#using the argument that one should win because it is sounds cheap and a bit like

[d0d0-b0i]

yknow what, after having slept on it, i /guess/ i can see why people outside of the fandom might not get it, but still. the disregard of the bracket that explicitly states it doesnt have to be a canon relationship, only to then want a pair to win because they are, is annoying specifically to me and barely anyone else lol

[mahixa]

so @maxricciardo messaged me earlier today and maybe possibly probably inspired me to write this cute, fluffy lestappen fic. Listen, she’s great and she deserves to read something nice and comforting about Max after today’s race. And for any of you searching for something sweet and a short fic about the boys being happy together - I hope you will enjoy it as well.

You can read it on ao3 [HERE]

ship: lestappen

word count: 1734

fluff. It’s fluff. Boys kissing. Fluffity fluff. Let there be fluff. Max realises his feelings for Charles and thinks Charles is pretty. We all agree with Max.

The interviewer is someone Max has never seen before during their press conferences. He looks like he could live and survive on drama alone. Beastliness shines dangerously in his eyes and the way he tilts his head before he asks Max the question indicates deviousness.

Max doesn’t like this at all.

“So, Max,” his voice is obnoxious already. “We all know how painfully honest you can be. Let me ask you about Charles Leclerc.”

Something stings Max’s chest. It has been difficult couple of days for Charles, with his bad last racing weekend and a lot of family burden going on right now. The Monegasque, if asked about it, would kindly state that everything is fine and there is nothing to worry about.

But Max knows Charles and he is aware when things become too much for him. And it’s obvious that Charles has his ups and downs. Should anyone be surprised by that? No one. And yet the media keep doing what they do best – they wait for the smallest mistake, the tiniest inconvenience, and they dig deep into the topic. They remind Max of vultures, always ready to find a person during their weak moments and portray such person as the biggest victim possible. A loser. Rend their vulnerable skin and make them bleed for the sake of the headline. Pain them black and white.

For the media everything is zero to one. You either win, or you lose. You drive or you crash. There’s no in between.

And Charles is sitting right next to Max during this press conference, and Max can feel him switching his position uncomfortably as they both hear the begging of question.

“Charles seems to like creating controversy,” the man states the biggest lie Max has heard in a while and dares to continue speaking. “And recently he has been loosing his nerves in the most crucial moments. He is, let’s say, not good under pressure these days. Does it even make him a good driver then?”

Something boils inside Max.

“Does any of it have something to do with the upcoming date of Charles’ father’s death? Should Charles continue to drive during this weekend, or is he a threat to others? Clearly he might be, with his mental condition.”

The conference room goes completely silent.

Max doesn’t take his eyes off of the interviewer. He doesn’t even blink. His gaze must look dangerous enough for everyone to make them to look at him and the man multiple times, anticipating the answer. Max lifts his chin defiantly and squints, and it sends unspoken fulmination all across the room. Someone clears his throat nervously.

“You know,” Max starts, joining his hands together. “I think it takes some fucking audacity to come to this room and say such things about one of the greatest driver of this generation.” Someone gasps in the room and everyone lifts their cameras up. “So you come here, and you have your confidence, and well. You have to be confident, for sure, to ask such dumb questions and state such idiotic statements, clearly not understanding what does it mean to be a normal human in this sport, having better and worse days. So no. Charles is more than the questions about his father, he is more than your silly cheap mind games and neither him, or me, will waste our time on you. And he will drive with us on Sunday. He’s the best person out there when it comes to mental strenght and he doesn’t deserve such crap from the media. So shut up. Next question,” he finishes and points at another man.

His heart is beating incredibly fast and he can hardly hear another question. His mouth is dry, palms sweaty and his legs bouncing nervously.

He does his best to ignore Charles’ stunned look on his face and Lewis’ dropped jaw.

When Max comes back to his hotel room he is exhausted and doesn’t really know why. He has dealt with stupid interviewers on more than one occasion by now, and he thinks he should be able to handle this situation better. Not that he regrets saying what he said.

He just doesn’t know why it caused such him such an emotional response.

Before he can think about it more, there’s a soft knock on the door and there’s only one person who knocks like that.

“Come in, Charles.”

Charles’ smile is small and almost timid, as he enters the room and then looks around. Max smiles to himself, observing a very awkward Charles. As if he wasn’t here yesterday to see the room. And the day before.

“I, eh,” he starts, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to say thank you, Max.”

Max doesn’t know how to react to his cheeks which turn bright red.

Charles has always been like that. Like that? So like what? Max thinks, forcing himself to finally understand what he has been feeling for so long, searching in his head for the best word to describe the other man.

Lovely. Charles has always been quite lovely, he admits to himself.

That describes Charles pretty well, actually. And now Max thinks about all those moments they shared together, from the early karting days too. Their fights and arguments when they were children, and Charles coming to check on Max after their races. Bringing him his home-made cookies or lemonade, and thanking Max. Or saying he is sorry. And these confessions were always a bit clumsy, always a bit awkward, but the words were always there. Charles might not always look the most confident during moments like this, but he always is there. Ready to speak and be tender when other people hide themselves and run away from confrontation. Charles is ready to say the things Max is often unable to.

Today’s press conference was different, though. It was the first time Max said so many things about Charles. In a room full of people, on top of that – people who were paying attention to his every word. Wasn’t that rather stupid, to go off like that? But that question has to be one of the dumbest and most arrogant he has heard in a long while. And it was about Charles.

No one should ever talk about Charles like that.

Not about Charles. How dare they? Have they ever seen the way he drives? The way he trains? How he can stay under pressure? The way he achieves his goals and keeps his cool even in the most stressful moments?

Have they seen the way Charles smiles? The way he rolls his eyes when he sees something silly or the way he wrinkles his nose when he laughs, but truly, truly laughs? Have they seen the way Charles can’t cook or dance, but he likes to do these things and it makes it even more enjoyable to observe him?

And what about the way Charles sleeps, with his lips slightly parted and his strong chest moving up and down? Or the way he gets excited over the stupidest TV programs Max doesn’t understand, but doesn’t mind when Charles asks him to watch them together, already too fascinated by the way Charles comments on things? And the way he plays the piano. The way he chooses songs and hums to himself when he plays.

The way he sneezes and then apologizes for it. The way Charles can assemble furniture from IKEA, and refuse to use any instruction, but somehow his chaotic energy helps him manage? And Max knows how it looks like.

Because Charles helped him with his furnitures.

Charles has always been there. When Max was sick and didn’t want to take any pills, Charles was there. Brining him his mum’s soup and talking how much he likes the fact that they both live in Monaco now. And when Max got completely wasted in one of those bars they like to go to, it was Charles who helped him get clean from all the unpleasant post-party aspects of the night. And he didn’t complain. He didn’t make a sound. He took off Max’s clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, and helped him shower. He made sure Max made it to bed and he placed a glass of water on his bedside table.

Charles was there when Max won his most important races and he was there to celebrate it with him. He was there when Max argued with his father and when it all looked like a lost cause. He was there to rub soothing circles on Max’s back with his gentle hand and embrace him with his soft voice.

And he always says “thank you” and “I’m sorry” when other people could never do it, for different reasons. Charles has always been brave and able to rise above others. Be a bigger person.

Charles is kind and lovely.

And so damn handsome.

It all makes Max’s head dizzy. The realisation of his feelings washes over him and he has to grab the chair not to stumble. What now?

Charles looks beautiful in his blue hoodie, messy hair and his confused smile. He looks way too soft to remain reasonable or sensible about this.

“Those things you said during the press conference, did you mean them?” he asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Max nods, coming closer to Charles who doesn’t move away. His eyes are focused on Max’s and he licks his lips.

“I meant every word,” Max says, his voice becoming almost a whisper, as he moves even closer and cups Charles’ face with his hand. “Jesus, Charles.”

Charles closes his eyes at the contact and breathes in through his nose. He looks stunning and Max is mesmerised.

“Kiss me,” Charles whispers, not opening his eyes. “Please.”

Max feels like melting. He slowly cups Charles’ face with both his hands.

“Look at me,” Max whispers back, and when Charles opens his eyes slightly, Max places a kiss on Charles’ forehead.

Then on his cheek. And then the other.

And then they kiss. They kiss and kiss and kiss, Charles’ arms around Max’s shoulders and Max’s hands on Charles’ waist. It’s the softest thing to kiss Charles, his lips eager and opened and lovely, lovely, so, so lovely, and warm.

Max moves them around the room so Charles can fall on the bed, and as soon as he does, Max climbs on top of him. The way Charles’ reaches out for him, the way he holds him closer, kissing him harder and deeper – that definitely goes on top of “the different ways of Charles Leclerc” list Max has made.

And Charles is beautiful under his touch, and he glows like a golden, Autumn sun, and he sounds like the softest, warm melody.

“I meant every word,” Max says between kisses and touches, between moans and sighs. “Every word.”

[thekrazykeke]

title: just keep breathing

fandom(s): fallen hero rebirth/retribution

pairing(s): wei chen x sidestep. ricardo ortega x sidestep. wei chen x ricardo ortega x sidestep. ricardo ortega x wei chen. 

playlist/song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMkz9JF7teY

rating: t+

summary: maybe it’s not about fixing what’s broken. maybe it’s about starting over and creating something better.

warning(s): pre poly relationship, comfort food, pining, mild spoilers for the alpha build, angst and hurt/comfort.

Listen. 

I played Fallen Hero Rebirth and rated it a solid 9, and the story initially left me crying my eyeballs out but mildly confused, wanting to understand things. So I replayed and replayed and replayed. I picked up things and the clues started fitting together. I paid for the Retribution alpha build and I’m still crying my eyeballs out at night over it but I wanted resolution. I wanted to give (one of) my character(s) a light at the end of the tunnel. 

So this is what it is. Or an attempt at it because FHR is really quite dark and not for the faint hearted. Those warning tags are not for show. 

Sidestep’s name is Tyndall Bowman in this one.

~

It happens on a Sunday. The last weekend before a new month started, technically.

Ortega frequently visits Chen’s apartment and brings food, lightly ribbing the other man for his lackluster kitchen space. Chen’s routine response becoming less and less exasperated each time. 

You think that he not so secretly fears that you’ll both starve or subsist off canned food and cheap takeout. ...Which probably isn’t a far off assumption, considering the implication day one of your temporary living situation.

It could be considered sweet, if it wasn’t so very funny. (You had to get your kicks somewhere).

Your legs are still broken. 

Progress is frustratingly slow. 

You’d tried to move to a schedule of crutches-only by the second week out of sheer boredom and the flat look Chen had leveled in your direction caused you to nix that idea stat. 

There’s a tension between Chen and you now. 

Not to say that there rarely isn’t tension, but that’s usually due to an aftermath of an argument. Now? Now, you’re aware of him. Aware of him in a way that you’d only been aware of Ortega.

Fucking hell.

Someone’s knee brushes lightly against yours, breaking you out of your reverie. You glance to the left and catch sight of Ricardo watching you with soft, worried eyes. Chen also watching, but less obvious in his concern, features more stoic, controlled. The three of you are in the living room, they are siting on the couch, you’re in your wheelchair. 

They probably asked you something and you were zoned out.

The lie is on the tip of your tongue, “I’m fine,” you mumble and grip your bowl which has half melted blueberry swirl ice cream and salted caramel cheesecake. Sweets are your kryptonite but Ricardo has pulled out your top favorites...

“You’re fine?” Ricardo scoffs, his tone skeptic. 

A muscle jumped in your jaw. “Yep, just fine,” you reply, using your spoon to scoop up some ice cream, take a bite and enjoy the flavor. Refusing to give an inch and let him win. 

The two of you had played this game many times, too many actually, and it usually ends with you being the one to fall for the prodding, and then you get angry, lash out. 

Walk away.  Only this time you can’t. 

Another scoff. “Typical. You do this every time, you know.” There’s a surprising amount of bitterness in Ricardo’s voice now. 

“Ricardo,” Chen starts to interject, the strain clear in his voice. “Tyndall. Stop.”

It’s too late though. 

Placing down the bowl on the nearest surface, freeing up your hands, you clench then unclench your fingers, trying to avoid cracking your knuckles. “And what about you, then huh, Saint Ortega?” The sneer on your face is ugly. “You’re always on about me being honest with my feelings and talking, but the truth of it is, you’re just like me, or worse!”

Ortega looks dumbfounded. As if he can’t believe you’d dare to throw the truth in his face like this, so obviously. He recovers quicker than you’d like, much to your annoyance, though. “...Maybe so,” he acknowledges, his voice softer. Enough to lull a more gullible individual into complacency or just anyone not paying attention. You know better. “That’s a topic we can revisit in a moment. I’m more curious about how long the two of you expect me to play the idiot here.”

Unwillingly, your eyes dart to Chen’s, then away. 

Not focusing on any particular point in the room. Does Ortega know that you’re Mastermind? Since when, and did Chen tell him? Or is he bluffing right now and he doesn’t know? Is he talking about something totally different than what you’re thinking about?

Quick! Think up an appropriate answer and throw him off the trail!

“....I don’t....know what you mean.”

That’s not what you should say!!

Chen sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He looks pretty much done with the both of you right now, not that you can blame him. “Be clearer, the two of you have a propensity for telling half truths which leads to the majority of these absurd arguments.” 

Ricardo winced and you feel the sting from that particular burn as well. 

“In response to your statement, though, no one is expecting you to play the fool.” He looks a little nervous, guilty. “ I... We’ve kissed.” There’s a pinch to his brow, the tips of his ears turning pink. “That wasn’t an example of being a good friend to you, kissing Tyndall and murkying the waters further when I knew the two of you were...” There’s a pause as he tries to find a word for what you and Ortega shared before you and he tentatively stopped antagonizing each other and bonded over Spoon. 

You snorted, lips twisting into a wry smile, “The phrasing of that sentence makes it sound as if I found it a chore to kiss you or something.” Chen cuts you an admonishing look which you temporarily ignore as you turn to glance at Ortega who’d been watching the byplay between you and Chen with an unreadable expression. For the nth time, you wish you could read his mind, and at the same time, you’re grateful that you can’t. 

“...He’s right though. It was an epically shitty thing to do, kissing your oldest friend, who’s probably had a crush on you since he’s met you, while we were kissing. Totally and unnecessarily complicated.”

He just looked at the two of you for a moment. Then Ricardo sighed heavily, running a hand over his face, wearily. “Esto es un desastre.”

You say nothing, staying quiet because honestly, you agree. This is a mess, and it was poorly handled, on all sides. You’d already spilled the beans about Chen having a crush Ortega before it got to this point because you sincerely thought the conversation should have come up properly over seven years ago, your ‘death’ should have been a nonfactor. 

They likely would’ve been a couple already if they weren’t such obtuse idiots.

“Okay... okay...” Ricardo seems to have come to a conclusion. He nods resolutely, turning all his considerably intense focus onto Chen who seems taken aback by it. Leaning forward into the other man’s space, slow enough that it’d be easy to shove him back, but of course Chen doesn’t. Ricardo’s hand went to the nape of his neck, lightly urging Chen forward, the other man obeying that silent request, and in the span of a breath, they’re kissing.

Your don’t avert your gaze, as much as you want to. 

This is a private thing, you shouldn’t look, shouldn’t stare like a pervert. 

‘Isn’t this what you knew would happen?’ Of course, your brain isn’t nice. 

This is what you wanted right, for them to get their act together. 

Humans falling in love with each other is normal and acceptable. (Although your education depicted of men and women falling in love, primarily). It happens all the time. 

Such emotion is a luxury a Re-Gene cannot afford, nor can they sincerely feel it, that’s what you were taught on the Farm. So resistant to the idea of going back to being treated as an unfeeling thing, your re-education had been particularly brutal.

“Whatever horrible thing your mind is telling you, it isn’t true.”

Once again caught off guard, lost in thought, you’re unprepared for Ricardo to kiss you. He tastes faintly of blueberry swirl ice cream and sweet tea, and maybe it’s your imagination, but maybe even a little bit like Chen. It’s that stray thought that has you jerk your head, trying to turn away from him. “W...what the hell, asshole?”

He snorted. “You know you sound really cute when you curse.” 

Baring your teeth, you snap, “Tomber d'une falaise!” Although the idiot clearly didn’t know what you said in French, basically telling him to fall off a cliff, it didn’t stop him from dramatically clutching at his chest, as if he’d been stabbed in the heart; he could probably guess it was at least an insult.

“Stop teasing him, Ricardo.” Chen admonished. Ricardo mock pouted. “I mean it. Can’t you see that he’s overwhelmed?”

“I am not overwhelmed!”, you vehemently protest.

“Out of your depth then,” Chen countered and before you could complain that it was pretty much the same thing, only with differing meanings, he continued on, “What our resident idiot is clumsily trying to show instead of explain, is that he wants both of us.”

“If you want a threesome, fine. It’ll have to wait, as I’m a bit physically impaired at the moment.” You’re almost surprised by the bitterness in your voice. 

Chen stared at you for a brief moment and then he braced both hands on either side of your wheelchair. Heart slowly turning over in your chest, oddly feeling as if you’re caught in the gaze of a hunter, you stubbornly keep eye contact for a second or two, but can’t maintain it for long. That doesn’t stop him from murmuring in your right ear, “Stop being so stubborn. Stop lying. You want this. To be in a relationship with both of us.”  A brief pause. “Correct?”

Fucking hell... 

Swallowing thickly, wondering the logistics of how that would work out. Wondering if you were about to once again make a horrible mistake. Then again, since you’d come back to Los Diablos, since Ortega found you again, that’s all you’ve been doing so far, haven’t you. Making mistake after mistake after mistake. 

“Yes.” 

As Chen’s left hand buried itself in your curls, taking control, tilting your head back, idly you wondered if the next time you hit the ground, if it’d hurt less. This is after a freefall into madness, it feels like, and twice as foolish. Yet you surrender, and you stop thinking, enjoy the kiss. 

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Be Mine, this Quarantine

"Dude." Dean nervously chuckles, scrubbing his face with his hand. The other one holds the phone to his ear. "I haven't even been able to ask this guy out to dinner. And you're asking me to ask him to go into isolation with me?"

"You're being dramatic again." Sam tells him, matter-of-factly, as if Dean's the one being unreasonable here.

Sam is the one who specifically called him on a Sunday from California to remind him to self-isolate, but "do it with someone like Castiel, okay?" - like he's supposed to be taking care of his older brother from fucking Stanford, like Dean knows anyone else like Cas, and like he's ever going to be able to propose something of that sort to Cas.

"He has a third-floor apartment." Sam points out, revisiting all of his super valid points. "You share a dorm with three other guys. And he just seems like the kind who'd be the correct amount of a germophobe." Dean rolls his eyes - although he also agrees. "Dean, you share so many classes with him that if nothing else, you could revise your entire semester together - and to top it all off, you're like best friends."

Benny comes to Dean's head and he starts to protest.

"You text him, Dean." The eyeroll and bitchface are audible in Sam's voice. "You, who exits all text chains you've ever been added to because quote unquote you're not an adolescent teenager with a celebrity crush, or looking to be catfished - you, Dean Winchester, text Cas."

That - wasn't far from the truth.

He wouldn't call them texting buddies or anything, but Castiel always sends a good morning text, and Dean always sends him a picture of his breakfast (because that's what he's up to by the time Castiel wakes up) and sometimes Dean's late for class because he lost track of time while talking to Cas, and sometimes they stay up all night together discussing the most inconsequential things like why mattresses matter to Dean and bees matter to Cas, and - yeah. He should probably call them texting buddies.

"Whatever, bitch." Dean throws back, taking the small losses his way as long as he wins the final battle. "Fine, we're friends. That doesn't automatically mean we'll be able to live together."

"You cannot actually mean that." Sam scoffs. "You're the best kind of neat freak I know, because you just end up doing all the tidying up by yourself. And you can cook." Dean huffs. "Admit it, jerk. Compatibility in a shared living space shouldn't be your concern."

Sure, Sam makes some good points, but Dean has the biggest card up his sleeve - which will trump all of Sam's meticulously presented arguments.

He's sorta in love with Cas.

But to say out loud to his little brother, it comes out as, "What if Cas doesn't want me there?"

Sam pauses.

Point, Dean Winchester.

"That's exactly why you need to talk to him." He finally says, but he sounds more thoughtful like it finally entered his twenty two year old brain that Cas might not want to shack up with Dean.

"Like hell, I will."

"I swear on your bullshit, Dean," Sam threatens. "I won't hesitate to take a cheap-ass flight, straight to Cas's apartment."

Dean balks. "You're not getting on any planes right now, Sammy -"

"And you're asking him." Sam declares, and if he were in front of Dean, he'd be crossing his arms on his chest which usually implies the end of a debate in Sam-the-to-be-lawyer speak. "Promise me."

"What will I even say?" Dean retorts, indignant. "Like, do I just go up to the guy like 'hey, wanna have me impose on you for a bunch of weeks?'" Sam snickers like Dean's trying to be funny. "'I promise to clean and make you food if you let me live with you during a pandemic'?"

"Something like that." Sam laughs, and Dean has to smile - because that doesn't happen very often and when it does, it reminds him of a past where they were much closer than California and Kansas. "Tell me how it goes, okay?"

"Nothing's going -"

"You promised."

"I didn't fucking promise a thing -"

The line clicks, and Sam is gone. Dean lands back on his bed, and wonders briefly if it'd be easier to die.

*

He calls Cas - because they're not goddamn texting buddies, no matter what Sam says - and asks if he's free for lunch.

Cas says yes and actually sounds excited about it.

*

When Dean reaches their usual diner, he takes longer than usual to park the Impala - all the while thinking about how he's going to frame the question to Cas, because he's fought it out with himself and knows that he's going to do it. He'd also taken longer than usual to drive there from the University apparently, because when he reaches, Cas is already there.

He's sitting on a table for two - probably just because that allows him to have a seat against the wall and Cas is kind of adorable about small things like that - and he's slumping over his phone.

But he puts it down when Dean approaches, and as Dean takes off his jacket, Cas puts his phone back in his jeans and uses his fingers to fidget instead. When Dean sits, a little amused, Cas is the one who speaks up first and in a hurry.

"Would you like to quarantine with me?"

Dean blinks. He takes a moment to think and then asks, "Did Sam get to you?"

"Uh, your brother Sam?" Cas frowns, shaking his head. "No, why would he?"

"Nevermind." Dean believes him. Though he cannot believe what just happened.

"So?"

"Oh." He's supposed to give an answer, because Cas doesn't know how much Dean's been thinking about it. Though, in his defense, most of the time, Cas tends to be so goddamn intuitive that Dean feels like he can read his mind.

Nonetheless, Dean tries to answer as casually as he can. "Yes. I mean, of course. Thank you for asking."

That's Dean Winchester in a sentence.

He tries to shoot for the normal, and ends up in affirmative-response-to-a-promposal territory.

"Are you sure?" Cas asks, sounding slightly less sure than before.

Did you not hear me say 'of course, thank you for asking' after that yes?

"Yeah, buddy." He pulls the menu from Cas's side of the table to his, sliding it on the table. "So what are we eating?"

"I'm not forcing you into this, am I?" Cas interrupts, hand on Dean's wrist jolting his attention back and ruining his complete 'casual' cover, because now Dean's sweating too. "Just because I asked, and just because we're friends - you don't have to say yes to anything, okay?"

"I know that." Dean gives Cas his best reassuring smile, though it's a little non-assured from his own core.

"I wake up late and I'm not sure when I sleep." Cas confesses, eyes worried. "The flat is clean only because I stuff everything in the closets. And I have a neighbor - you remember Balthazar, right? He just returned from France."

"How long ago is 'just'?" Dean repeats, and then adds. "And frankly I'd assumed he was simply being pretentious when we met."

"Two months." Castiel bites his lip. "And he is. The accent is fake."

"We'll survive." Dean announces, grinning broader. "Plus I can't wait to hear that guy minus the accent now."

Castiel makes an exasperated sound.

"Cas, how do I put this?" Dean sighs, knowing that things would eventually come to this. "I would be grateful if you'd let me stay with you, and -"

"Sometimes I wander around the house with my cat past midnight." Cas volunteers, out of the blue.

Naked?

Dean's brain jumps there and then he drags it back from the gutter - or, you know, the land of tempting imaginable scenarios.

"I want to live with you, you dumbass."

Cas pauses like that's at all surprising. "You do?"

"I was literally trying to figure out how to ask." Dean rubs the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up. "And then you did, okay? And then I said yes, and I wanted us to not talk about it all lunch because later we're going to have important shit to figure out like food and beer and toilet paper and -"

"When exactly you'll move in." Cas offers, and when he puts it like that, a little bit of Dean melts.

"Uh-huh."

"Okay." Cas smiles, and finally it's that smile - eyes all crinkled, nose all scrunched up, the very definition of gummy - and fuck, Dean's very much in love with him and has just dug himself a huge, apartment-shaped hole, but he'd fucking like to live with him too, and he's a fucking liar if he isn't being a little hopeful about it too.

"We'll not talk about it." Cas declares. "And before, you'd asked me what we were eating?"

Dean nods.

"Well, I asked the waitress for recommendations for something memorable and she offered me the specials menu." Cas says, innocent as though everyone in the city doesn't know not to ask for the specials' menu at Reed's diner.

Dean starts to pray.

"So, kale pecan pesto." Cas announces. "And yes, I had to Google what that is later and no, I'm not showing you."

"God-fucking-dammit, Cas." Dean glares at him. "These might be our last diner meals for the foreseeable future, I don't want to have rabbit food -"

And then Cas winks at him like that's something he's allowed to do, and Dean's suddenly flustered again - and if that isn't an apt summary of how living with Cas is going to be like, he doesn't know what is.

[krsnlove]

Halloween Phases

A/N: An idea came to me one night about the different phases we go through in life and how holidays/important events and their associated activities can change. Also, I know we’re in November ...Don’t. Just don’t Lol. 

Pairing: Bryce x Casey

Rating: PG

SINGLE MAN

“Did you see Lahela’s costume?”

Casey scrolled through her patient’s chart, reading the results of the lab work drawn earlier, unbothered by Sienna’s question.

“Surprised he’s dressed as someone else other than his meathead self,” Jackie arched a single brow at the news.

“What’s he dressed as?,” Elijah asked as he straightened the plush E.T. doll of his Halloween costume.

“Oh, you’ll see. By the way,” Sienna adjusted the strings to her Red Riding Hood outfit, “the contest for Best Costume ends in an hour. I hope you all voted. The winner gets a $50 Visa gift card.”

“$50. Wow. The hospital sure is pulling out all the stops.”

“I’d be negative too if I lost,” Elijah gave Jackie a pitiful stare in her usual work attire. “Where’s your Halloween spirit?!”

“Right here,” she flashed her middle finger in his direction with a wide smile before walking away. “Byeeee!”

“She’ll be sorry when she sees what I’m going to buy with my winnings,” Elijah proudly smiled before wheeling himself away. “I’ll see you guys at home!”

Sienna watched him turn the corner down the hallway before turning her attention back to Casey.

“So, have you seen Bryce’s costume?”

Sienna made sure her question didn’t go unanswered as she tapped her pen on the computer screen, forcing Casey to look up from the screen.

“I haven’t,” she blinked a few times, surprised to see her still there.

“It’s pretty good,” Sienna’s cheeks color slightly. “I mean, it’s not too bad to look at. You should check it out.”

Casey studied her usual calm friend, nervously surveying the nurses station they were at.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine it’s just...it’s hot in here, isn’t it?” She closes her eyes for a brief moment as she begins to dab her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Weren’t you just complaining about it being cold earlier?”

“No. No. It’s hot now!,” Sienna begins to fan herself with one hand. “I wonder what...what do you think the temperature is in here?”

“Sien, it’s only--,” Casey’s sentence is cut off as a familiar voice comes from behind her.

“It’s one Lahela degrees!”

Casey turns to face the familiar voice. Bryce stood there, fully dressed in his Halloween costume: a firefighter. Or, Casey’s eyes slowly take in him being shirtless with suspenders holding up the yellow latex shorts, almost sort of fully dressed as a firefighter.

She can’t help the smile that comes to her as Bryce stands there beaming with pride.

“How long were you two working on that?,” she looked to Sienna who playfully shrugged her shoulders before walking away leaving you alone with Bryce.

“I owe you, Double Oh Tiny!”

Casey stands from her seat and sits on the edge of the desk, watching Bryce begin to greet each passerby.

“Quit shopping at the toy store for your clothes Lahela,” Zaid groaned before turning around and walking the opposite direction.

Ines is barely able to form a sentence when she looked up from her notes and saw Bryce in his costume. It was a wonder she didn’t walk into a wall when he escorted her to the safety of the elevators.

“Is it too much to ask to go a week without seeing you shirtless?,” Ethan shook his head as he walked past him with Rafael following close behind.

“Seriously Lahela. Do you even own shirts?”

“Okay Jealous #1 and Jealous #2. I’ll see you guys at tomorrow’s game,” Bryce called out after them before turning to face Casey once again.

“So…,” her head tilt slightly to the side, “big fan of Halloween I take it?”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Why would I want to pretend to be someone else when my life is already great? Besides,” he took off his helmet and wiped at the smudge on the shield, “$50 is $50. I love a good contest.”

“Bryce Lahela, did you just share something personal with me? Be careful. We might become friends if you keep it up.”

A smug smile came to him as he put his helmet back on and looked at her determinedly.

“I’m counting on it, Valentine.”

MARRIED MAN

“Babe, please?!”

“Absolutely not Lahela!”

Bryce kept the laugh threatening to surface at watching his pregnant wife waddle away from him, signaling the end of their discussion. It had been weeks of scouring the internet for an idea and even longer for Amazon to deliver the costumes.

And after an extremely convincing argument, or so he thought, to his wife, Bryce was all too set to don the blue body paint and glossy pants like the Genie from Disney’s Aladdin.

“You’re not putting that thing on me!”

Casey’s adamant voice echoes from their bedroom down the hall.

“Have you talked to Sienna lately?,” he casually asked while picking up the genie lamp costume.

“No. Why?”

“They’re having another Best Dressed Costume Contest.”

The sound of Casey’s mocking laugh overpowered the sound of an episode of the Golden Girls; Her latest series binge.

“$50 will only cover my cravings for one night Lahela. You know that better than anyone.”

Bryce laughed out loud at that, thinking back on the last few nights of his 3AM food runs whenever a new inspiration struck for a strange food combination.

“It’s not $50.”

“$51?,” she scoffed.

“Not exactly,” he sat down at the kitchen table still holding onto her costume. “Winner this year doesn’t get any money.”

“Wasting my time Lahela.”

“You’re right. I mean who would be interested in a month's supply of chocolate?”

The familiar voices of Blanche Devereaux and Dorothy Zbornak lowered, just slightly, from the TV in the bedroom.

“Chocolate?”

Casey’s curious yet cautious tone brought a smirk to Bryce’s lips.

“Yeah,” he said regretfully, “And pickles. Can you believe that? What is anyone going to do with a bunch of chocolate and jars of pickles?!”

Bryce can hear her footsteps growing closer as he holds up the undesirable costume.

“Not a word Lahela,” Casey tells him just before snatching it from his hands.

FAMILY MAN

Jackie straightened the gold cuffs covering both her wrists. Never mind the sleeves of her doctor’s lab coat hid them once she put her arms back down. Or the fact that the majority of her Cleopatra costume is hidden if she didn’t purposely pull her doctor’s coat back.

“This is the year guys,” she announced to anyone within earshot.

Elijah, fully dressed as a Roman soldier with his wheelchair made up to look like a chariot, glanced up at her for a moment then back down at his phone.

“You said that last year.”

“Wasn’t Casey’s baby bump last year dressed as the genie’s lamp adorable?!,” Sienna chimed in.

“That was a cheap shot,” Jackie pointed out. “Anyone who uses their child, unborn or not, to win a contest isn’t afraid to hit below the belt.”

“And,” Rafael unenthusiastically added, “Big surprise. Lahela upped it last year by not only being shirtless but had blue body paint on too.”  

Sienna chuckled at the memory of Bryce smearing blue paint on her lab coat last year after announcing him and Casey as the winners. 

In an attempt to boost morale at the hospital, the costume contest was born. Watching her colleagues slowly participate each year was thrilling especially knowing they weren’t in it for the prize. Bryce’s winning streak was enough to bring the competitive spirit out of everyone.

“I’m going to knock him right into a v-neck shirt. He seems the type to wear one if....you know, he actually were to wear one,” a smug smile spread across Jackie’s lips.

“Hopefully with a sweater on too,” Ethan casually mentioned while walking by, perusing a file he had in his hand. Even the infamous diagnostician participated in this year’s contest with a Halloween-themed tie.

“Sienna, will you please announce the winner already?,” Aurora bit out. “If Elijah’s chariot run over my toes one more time…”.

He grimaces at the reminder and avoids her glare.  

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Bryce and Casey?”

Ines’s voice cut through the icy tension between Aurora and Elijah. A delightful expression crosses her motherly features as she took in the variety of costumes surrounding her. The boost of morale at the hospital around this time of year never fails to bring a smile to her face.

“They both know how to tell time. It’s not our fault they’re late,” Jackie stood with folded arms.

Just then the familiar sound of the elevator doors being opened caused everyone to face the same direction and out step Bryce and Casey in their Halloween costumes with their newest family member in Bryce’s arms.

“I know the both of you must be cold,” Aurora shook her head, eyeing Casey’s one-piece bathing suit and Bryce’s red lifeguard shorts.

“The winners,” Bryce’s voice is almost above a whisper as he motioned to his daughter fast asleep in his arms, “are here!”

Jackie points to their daughter, fully covered in a shark costume.

“Below. The. Belt!”

Casey gently folded back the material of the costume obstructing her daughter’s face. 

“Our little baby shark has had a long day. Scouring the ocean waters for her next victim and all,” she shot a playful wink at Jackie.  

Elijah begins to clap in total awe of the commitment the couple had in the contest.

“I vote for you guys. Mostly because of the cute baby shark in your arms but since you came with her…”.

“Weren’t you saying something about knocking a certain someone into a v-neck shirt?,” Rafael nudged a begrudging Jackie.

“Bite me.”

“Look out for your lab coat Sienna,” Jackie’s glare at Bryce and Casey softened once her eyes settled on her goddaughter.

“Looks like Lahela is going to get spray tan on it when he comes to hug you.”

Tagging: @alj4890 @vickypoochoices @anotherbeingsworld need more Bryce shippers LoL

[yamithediaperdork]

Happy Fathers Day (Mortal instruments..because..of course XD)

It was the annual father day picnic in central park, and while something semi scandalous seemed to happen every year, this year would be the one to take the proverbial cake. If nothing else one group of boys, close knit friends since they were in pre school together, would have a whole new world opened up to them. they were Alex and Jacob Wolfe, 12 year old twins with dirty blond hair that Jacob had in a mushroom cut while Alex kept his buzzed, Keith Ryan who had shoulder length brown hair and finally Kevin west, who kept his black hair buzzed down. Today while their four man band (At least that's what their dad's liked to call them, the boys all just rolled their eyes at that) where playing a game of football, waiting on their dad's to call them over for food, they got treated to a sight one may not of expected at a public park, at least not during the day. It was Jacob who noticed the sight first, stopping and starring and his jaw dropped which let the ball deck him in the face, but the pre-teen didn't seem to notice. "Dude, what's with you?" Keith asked, running up, annoyed since they were on the same team. "Jacob, you ok?" Alex asked, worried about his brother. "Oh man, he's gone comatose..tell me you didn't eat any of my dad's chilli. I warned you guys about that!" Kevin groaned. All Jacob could do was point, and the other three followed the finger, and joined him in drop jaw reactions. After all, it wasn't every day you saw a adult baby being lead into the park.

going back to a few days earlier, and Jace had been snuggling in his daddies arms. the shadow hunter had just finished a coming out party involving all of his closet friends and while not everyone was happy, they had been understanding and gushed about how cute he'd been in his barbie diaper and teddy bear top. Simon, the vampire daddy of the littlest monster killer had been semi glad about how well the party had gone, though he was also disappointed. "and then when Alec gave me head pats and said he knew it, had knew it fer years..ehehehehe your right daddy! Coming clean was the best thing to do!" Jace coo'ed, and nuzzled into Simon's chest. "Well to be fair, I guess I shouldn't of been shocked so many of them knew, since you've been wearing them to bed every night." Simon admitted and patted the boys soggy diaper. Barbie had long since faded away from the front but the diaper could take a bit more punishment, and with how often Jace went well, they had to make every diaper count. "And pull up's during the day, just like you told me to cuz I'm SUCH a good boy!" Jace beamed, all proud of himself for letting himself be sent back into 24/7 diaper wearing. "It's just..I dunno..I was mayybbeee..." Simon started and Jace giggled and smirked. "You wanted them to tease and torment me and make me a red faced big baby so I'd be super squirmy and cry baby~" Jace giggled. "Well tough! They were loving and understanding and I'm just all happy and want cuddles, not filled with massive humiliation and going into a whiny big baby mode!" Jace finished and blew a raspberry. "..You know. since you're gonna be my widdle guy 24/7.. I think we need to let even more people know and see the real you." Simon said, as he wiped the spittle from the raspberry off of his face. the fact he had a evil grin on his face made Jace gulp and lose his, and a muffled fart sounded from his rear. "...I don't like it when you get that look on your face daddy."

In the following days some steps were taken to help Jace be the little boy he wanted to be 24/7, even though Jace started regretting his decision to ask for it soon after. Step one was to gather up every adult piece of clothing that Jace wore, and have a nice big yard sale with them. the money was tucked away nice and next, and would be used not on booze or toy's, or anything like that. It went just right into Jace's diaper budget, with him going poopies at least 3 times a day, and diapers not being cheap. "This sucks! I should at least be able to get some toys!" Jace had argued. "well you can get a lot of toys, if we get you cloth diapers and plastic pants instead. but I'm not gonna be the one washing them or hanging them out to dry." Simon said as they sold the last of Jace's pants. the teenagers buying it had been laughing seeing Jace sitting there in a chair in just his diapers (with the weather being so nice and all) and laughed even more when they heard the argument. "But..but.I'm a baby! I don't do washing!" "and you don't get a say in what money is spent on. maybe if we'd been able to sell your undies we could of gotten you some action figures, but their just too skid marked and no one wants them, even at a nickle a pair." Jace huffed at that and in the end they did get rid of all 10 of Jace's undies, for 10 cents and they were sold to a blushing young man who couldn't stop looking at Jace. "Bet you he's gonna wear them all as like, a form of toddler pants." Simon said as the guy dashed off. "Pffft that's silly, who would do that?" Jace asked,. "oh, you'd be surprised."

The next part of Jace's permanent transformation was taking him out to load up his closet in Simon's home. that meant dozens of cute outfit and loads of diapers. Jace didn't mind the overalls or the shortalls, but the onsies were kinda squirmy to try on at the mall,m double so with the sales lady claiming that she needed 'extra help' and calling over all of the other clerks so Jace was basically putting on a little fashion show. Which only got worst when Kelly, the clerk they had started with, after hearing Simon jokingly complain about how often Jace needed a diaper change suggested that they try some dresses and skirts, They had already seen the poor big babies barbie diapers but Jace was NOT a happy camper as he then spent half a hour shaking his butt, and twirling in his short party dressed, mini skirts, and basically girl clothes that didn't do anything to fully hide his diapers. The fashion show thankfully ended when Jace in the middle of showing off a jean skirt with a fake plastic diamond heart on it off and popped a squat and destroyed the back of his diaper. Kelly hadn't let them get changed in there, though she had to hold a nose while ringing them though.

After a diaper change in the parking lot Jace and daddy had been on their way home when they heard a announcement on the radio about the father's day picnic in the park, opened to anyone and everyone. Jace despite having just gone poopie got a badddddd feeling in his tummy as he looked at daddy in the rear view mirror from his car seat. "Havvvve I ever mention how much I HATE the park?" Jace asked, gulping and squirming. "Oh Really? Maybe that's just because you haven't gone to the park with daddy, and been able to show everyone your cute widdle outfits." Simon said. "..You just want me blushy!" Jace whined and pouted, folding his arms and sulking. "Mmmhmmm, and DADDY gets what DADDY wants." Simon said. "Now who wants McDonald's?" "...I do but i'm not wearing a dress to the park!" Jace said. "We'll see~"

In the end Jace did win his campaign to not wear a dress or skirt to the park, mostly by pointing out that he'd just cry rape and beg for a adult if Simon tried. With Simon knowing the big baby well enough to know that wasn't a bluff, Jace was instead dressed in triple his normal thick bulky diapers, and in a light blue onesie with a teddy bear print all over it. (though to be fair, he'd given Jace a choice between the teddy bear themed Onesie or a white one, just the pink barbie diapers semi showed with the white one) a pair of white socks and Paw patrol light up sneakers were on his feet and a blue paci was in his mouth with a ribbon on it that was clipped to his shirt and his hair had been neatly brushed. One hand was in daddies as they walked into the park, getting stares and a few comments, and the other was hugging a Chase from paw patrol stuffie to his chest. With Jace being tripled diapered Daddy only brought along one change for the little guy, and it was in the picnic basket he carried in his free hand as they looked for a good spot to sit down. "See anywhere that looks nice little guy? or cat got your tongue?" Simon teased. Jace was sucking fast on his paci, quickly going crimson faced as the taunts came at them. "Awww that's so cute!" One girl said, pointing Jace out to her father. "What the hell.." Anther dad said. "Fucking fags. keep it indoors!" Called a big bearded biker dad. "Er..is this against the law?" A mother asked. "I KNEW YOU WERE LYING! THEY DO MAKE BIG KID DIAPERS!" one 5 year old huffed, yelling at his parents.

The 4 man band stared in shock and as Jace and Simon walked/waddled by them a strong smell of baby powder was in the air. two of the boys were fixated on how powerful and cool Simon looked, totally in control of the dumb big baby and wanted to experience a power rush like that,. The other two were biting their lips and squirming as they both focused on different parts of Jace's humiliation. "Whoa..L-Look at how massive those diapers are..t-they are diapers right?" Alex said, gulping. "No dork, he just has a massive butt. of course he's in diapers." Kevin chuckled. "T-That outfit.. oh man.." Jacob  chipped in. "Could you even picture wearing something like that? that would get a 3 year old teased!" "heh, your got that right. only a total bitch would let himself be dressed like that. or his daddy is just THAT freaking awesome he's making that blond bitch come out like that." Keith said with a grin, turning and noting the look on the twins faces. "heh, Jealous?" "NO!" both twins yelled out, their own faces going bright red and Kevin and Keith just exchanged grins.

Of course with his Vampire senses Simon knew what was happening and chuckled softly. 'I suppose I should feel bad corrupting the young and all that..buttt fuck it. I'm already a soulless blood drinker.' the vampire thought. "Don't look now but I think we just inspired two new big babies." Simon said in a low voice, then paused and waved a hair in front of his face, acting as if Jace had just let out a stink bomb though the blond baby was holding his poopies in. "Jace! did you go uh-oh already?" Simon asked loudly. Jace's blush couldn't get any worse, but the big baby shook his head no,but kept his paci in. "Mhmmm. likely story. I know you like to sit in it it." Simon said, again in a loud voice and drawing more attention to them as he rolled his eyes. "turn around for a bum check little man." Jace squirmed like crazy but knew better then to argue with daddy, and when he was this humiliated, he went into a whole new level of subby. turning around Jace looked at the group of boys who half of which were watching with grins, the other half with semi envy as Simon dropped down to one knee and patted Jace's butt a few time. "Hmmm I guess it was just gas. sorry for not believing you little guy." Simon said. he looked around and then opened up the basket and pulled out a checkered red and white blanket and spread it on the gas. "I know you wanted to sit at a table buddy, but with the extra diapies you begged to wear daddies worried you'll fall and go boom." Simon said, and ruffled Jace's hair even as the blond baby glared at him, then nodded and plopped on his massive rear. Simon was pulling out their lunches, some fried chicken with mashed potatoes for him, with a bottle of what he would tell anyone who asked was fruit punch but was some of Jace's blood, while pulling out 4 large jars of prune flavored baby food and a bottle of formula for Jace. "Is daddies little man hungry now, or wanna let daddy eat first then spoon him him?" Simon asked, and reached forward, lightly tugging on the paci and pulling it from the big babies mouth. "I um..I.." "Use your big boy words." Simon said, smirking. Jace, who had been about to anyways squirmed and just nodded his head. "I um.. Daddy can eat first." he said,using his baby voice anyways. "ok buddy. I know you wanna eat big kid food like daddy but we BOTH know it doesn't agree with you an-" Simon was cut off as the boys from before strolled over. "Hey Mister um.. if you don't mind, I can feed him" the brunette with the buzz cut said. "Oh, have you ever spoon fed a baby before?" Simon asked. "It's not as easy as it sounds, they can be little fuss buckets." Simon added, reaching forward and tickling Jace's chin making him giggle a little. "well no, But Me and Keith." and the brunette jerked a thumb to the long haired kid. "Figure we'll need the practice." he said, giving a toothy grin as the blond twin blushed and squirmed. "heh Oh?" "Kevin! Don't tell him that!" one of the blonds squeaked out. "W-we're not babies!" the other one added. "Alex, Jacob, Hush. big kids are talking." the one named Keith said and Simon chuckled. 'oh yeah, they're gonna be little naturals.' he thought.

Jace whined and mentally begged Simon not to let the kids spoon feed him, but if anything the chance to pass on his knowledge made Simon even MORE teasing, which was something Jace didn't think was possible. Simon showed the boys how to tie a bib around the babies neck, explaining how important it was to use a good enough knot it wouldn't come off, but not so good you had to cut it loose after. "If I had brought some of his extra bibs, you could of practiced with your little guys." Simon smirked. Jace's heart went out for the blonds as they paled a little at that, and they seem to be trying to decide whether to run or stick around. "It's ok. I think their dad would be mad if they came back wearing a teddy bear bib anyways." Keith said. "they again maybe not. you know he's always saying what messy eaters they are." Kevin added. "Guysssss!" the twins whined in unison and pouted. "ok, that was cute. Now if Jace isn't a total little piggy like he normally is." Simon said and Jace whined at that, and pouted much like the twins were. "And there's any baby food left, you can split whats left between your little guys there, and they can take turns with the bib." "What!?" Alex yelped. "No way!" Jacob added. "Sounds good." Kevin and Alex said in unison. As Jace locked eyes with the twins, they gave him a pleading look and despite knowing just how bloated and gassy he'd get, Jace knew he had to take a bullet for them. 'god I'm gonna be farting like crazy!' Jace groaned. it didn't help he already had 5 pieces of high fiber toast that had been coated in apples and banana flavored baby food for breakfast and a big bottle on top of that. No two was about it, before they left the park Jace was gonna be filling his diapers. "Now you wanna get a fair amount, but not too much on the spoon." Simon was saying, snapping Jace out of his thoughts about his impending boom butt. "Jace here is a bigger boy so he can take more, but every baby really has a different amount." Jace looked at the heaping piled Kevin had on the spoon, and looked over to Simon, silently pleading with daddy to at least get the amount cut down, but Simon just winked and took a bite out of a chicken leg. "I know what to do next. Seen this enough on TV." Kevin said and then switching to a baby talk voice voice added. "Here comes the airplane~ Open widddde!"

Simon almost choked on his chicken as Kevin talked, he knew how much Jace HATED that bit and was nice enough to spare him that much. He flashed the big baby a look that said 'play nice' and Jace like a good big baby opened his mouth as big as he could. Sadly (or was that amusingly?) with the heap of mush on the spoon, there was no way it was going to fit all in Jace's mouth and purple mush dribbled down his chin. "oh crud uh.." Kevin looked over his shoulder to Simon, as Jace closed his mouth and swallowed what had made it in, and made a little face. "use the spoon and get what you can off of his chin and into his mouth." Simon instructed, taking a sip  of his drink. "Oh ok!" Kevin said. It took awhile for the boy to get his rhythm down but soon he was stuffing Jace's face like a pro even as Jace started to burp now and then, which made Kevin make a face. "you think that's bad, wait till it comes out the other end." Simon commented. "why don't you boys switch so Keith can get a turn in. and Alex, Jacob..My little guys looking awfully full already, hope your hungry." The twins shared a whimper and were holding each others hands, though Simon noted they didn't try and run for their dad. either they didn't think they could outrun their daddies to be, or while they were scared and nervous, they on some level wanted to be Jace and were rooted to the spot. Either way, Simon had a hunch next time he saw them they'd be sporting diapers. Keith took a different approach to feeding Jace and it didn't take long to figure it out. The Brown haired boy was a tormentor, plain and simple and it showed as he kept missing Jace's mouth on purpose and smudging the food on Jace's cheeks, and would scold him for it. "No no no you silly big baby! Stay still! it's like you wanna wear your din din!" Keith teased and Jace whined loudly and looked to Simon for help. Simon pretended to be interested in a game of soccer that was going on near by instead. "I think your baby is full mister. he just doesn't wanna eat anymore." Keith said, looking at Simon then over at the blonds. "N-No! I hungee!" Jace cried out, and Kieth pouted a little. "I think he's just fussy because he wants daddy to feed him. you boys have been a big help but I better take over." Simon said, he was finished eating anyways. "besides, any second now the fart factory is gonna-" Simon was cut off as a massively long and loud despite the padding fart filled the air and the boys went from laughing to holding their noses. "Yeahhh that." Simon chuckled. "Side effect of the baby food." "Oh god, it's like ten million farts in one!" Keith gagged. "Or worse!" Kevin added. Adorably the twin's only commented on it by saying stinky, though there eyes were watering too. "Is that what they'll smell like if they eat that?" Kevin asked, waving a hand in front of his face but jerking a thumb at the twins. "Pretty much. I'd go with oatmeal if you want them not as rotten." Simon suggested. "Should I take that to mean you don't want one of the remaining jars?" "Uh..I mean..it's a really generous offer..But..we all drove over here together and.." Kevin started "We'll all die in the car if the twins are ripping out back door bombs like that!" Keith finished. "W-we wouldn't be that bad!" Alex huffed and crossed his arms, Jacob following suite and adding "Yeah!" "...Wait..do you dorks WANNA eat baby food?" Keith asked, seemingly forgetting about the stink in the air as he grinned. The twin's seemed to realized that had just tried to argue in favor of it and Alex covered his mouth while Jacob shook his head. "NO!" "looks like you boys have some things to figure out. Thanks for feeding the baby." Simon said and took a couple of 20's out of his wallet and handed one to each boy. they went to say thank you but anther back door bomb ripped out of Jace's backside and they took off running instead. "Cute kids. gonna have to get used to stinkers though if they wanna be be daddies." Simon commented, then turned his attention back to Jace who let out a burp. "then again..subjecting them to your funk when they're just starting is like teaching someone to swim by tossing them in shark infested waters." "DADDY!"

With the rest of the baby food in Jace and his ba-ba, the poor baby had a bloated tummy and was pooting up a storm. Simon had been forced to take the onise off of him with his big Jace's tummy tum had gotten and had tickled his sides till Jace wet himself. In just his socks and shoes and Barbie diapers, Jace was getting lots of attention though no one came too close, his poots were like a fog horn warning people to keep their distance. "you know, I was hoping to help you make some friends today but your butt is scaring them all away stinker." Simon teased. "I sowwy." Jace whined, rubbing a eye. After a month of training Jace was conditioned to get sleepy after a big meal. "well we'll go play in the sandbox for a little bit, then go home ok buddy?" "But sweepy daddy." Jace whined, eyes drooping and nuzzling into Simon. "Already? are you sure you don't wanna play on the slide or the swings or something like a big kid?" Simon asked, smirking. "No Big -yawn- kid. Just Jace. sweepy." The blond baby said, almost stumbling now and so Simon stopped and picked him up, setting his head on his shoulder and a arm under his butt, carrying the basket and Chase was tucked inside. "I guess we can go home. I hope you had fun today buddy." Simon said and kissed the big babies cheek, then whispered. "Because we'll be coming here a lot more often." "Ngggh.. yesh..daddy." Jace mumbled, and then drifted off to sleep, even as a series of wet farts erupted from his back side and the back of the babies diapers bloomed out. "oh I see. go sleepies and leave me stuck with changing you. really nice." Simon teased but as he headed for the car he had to admit, he didn't really mind. He was tempted to stop and change Jace on a table, but then spotted a older looking couple talking to a police officer and pointing over at them, and decided that could wait for anther day and not to give the cop a reason to hassle them.. as long as Jace's diapers stayed on he wasn't naked in public. Thankfully the cop seemed to agree as they weren't hassled on their way to the car, though before he went to put Jace in his car seat, Simon was treated to one last cute site. Kevin and Keith chasing the twins, holding onto a couple of towels each and having safety pins. 'Damn. now I really wish I could stay.' Simon thought and chuckled. there was always next weekend.

The end, fer now

[thatyanderecritic]

i really like the yandere dynamic but i dont openly post or reblog about it anymore cuz i've had people give me a hard time over it being problematic. and i get told im terrible, get called a freak... idk. do you have any advice for dealing with this...?

Hey anon, sorry for not getting to you sooner. We have a lot of questioned queued up to be answered but I decided to put you first since this is a pretty big issue. 

To be a yandere fan, we’re in a rather precarious position. Like any fandom, we are plagued with bad apples that end up painting the community’s face as a whole. You know the type of bad apples that all fandoms have: the overzealous stans that either attack those outside the community for not sharing a view or catering to our fandom. We also suffer from infighting/bullying between yandere fans because not everyone shares the same views on what a yandere is or even for something as stupid as a yandere headcanon for a character that never was a yandere, to begin with. But unlike most fandoms, the works that we support tend to go against us at times. That is to say... since we’re a bit of an under “funded” (e.g. don’t have enough yandere media. Especially for male yanderes) fandom, people tend to quickly put CrAzY characters on a pedestal without question. And this hurts our credibility, ALOT.  Having group within the fandom worshipping some non-yandere, psychotic girl as a yandere just because she’s kawaii while the more “sane” fans try to explain, “No, we swear yandere’s aren’t like that” doesn’t look good for our case. 

Is there anything we can do about people attacking us for our preference? Not exactly, I’m sorry to say. The moment humans gained self-awareness and free will, universal mental unity became a myth. There will always be a disconnect, even on concepts that all humans should be in agreement on. Would you believe me if I say that some people don’t believe that people should be allowed to have a livable wage? Of course, people will have their reasons as to why they think a certain way regardless if it sounds logical or not. Just because they have a reason doesn’t mean it’s reasonable but in a world where emotions is king, logical will never win.

People who attack you for liking yanderes most likely were victims of abuse and went through some sort of trauma that yanderes are usually identified/linked with. If they weren’t direct victims then they know someone who is a victim. And if it isn’t either of these two, then they’re most likely a bleeding heart with a “higher than thou” sense of morality. Regardless of the reasoning, they all have their hearts in the right places but rigid in their perspective of the world. Already, the decision is cemented and may never change. To most, we’re as egregious as pedophiles and incest-lovers just because we like villains. After all: “How in the world could anyone remotely ‘like’ such awful people?! Clearly, there is something wrong with THEM.” Of course, we have our reasons for liking yanderes but most people close their ears and eyes since they already judged us based on our interest. For those who were victims of abuse or know someone, I understand that they’re reaching out to attack those who seem to defend characters that may or may not be similar to their assailant/abuser. They attack, they defend invisible victims, and in a way, looking for purpose... looking at how they can turn their trauma into a positive. But most of the time, they overstep their boundaries and try to enforce their authority in something they don’t understand. 

The only way we can approach these types of people is to send an open invitation for a diplomatic talk in trying to reach a middle ground. While a change of opinion would be nice, it would be nearly impossible since a lot of people are grounded in their personal moral compass. If they are open for a conversation, then all hope is not lost. Ideally, if a conversation is open then the most important thing is to validate their emotions invested in this situation. 9 out of time 10, people are stubborn in an argument because they feel like they’re getting personally targeted either by their identity, their pride, or their emotions. Therefore, they double down and become louder in their argument, not because of their view but because they believe they are defending themselves. From there, once the other recognize that you aren’t attacking them, you shift the conversation onto yourself and point out how they were making you feel the same away but they were actively attacking you; not only that, treating you as less than human just because you prefer villainous FICTIONAL characters. Ideally, at this point, the other recognizes their hypocrisy and you both agree in staying in your own lanes. If by some miracle they’re open of a different perspective, then you’re given a platform to say why you like yanderes... typical reasons being the idea of unconditional love or coping. 

But this is all hypothetical and the most desirable outcome. But more than often, people are more than comfortable at screaming at you every time you try to open your mouth... most likely something they learned because someone shut them down in such a way. Not only that, they most likely formed their own counter-arguments already since a lot of yandere fans have the same reasons as to why they like yanderes: unconditional love or coping. The counter-argument can usually be boiled down to two reasons: unethical and risking future victims seeking a “yandere” partner. Ethicality... this is a low hanging fruit to argue. Everyone (well the majority of people, again it’s universally impossible to be on the same page) would agree that it’s bad to stalk a person. Even a yandere fan would say never to stalk a person IRL. But because of this, they think they got you in an “ethical checkmate”. It’s a cheap argument and they’re just trying to make you feel like a monster for your preferences in fictional characters. Funny enough, this is a tactic that abusers would use to shame their victim into compliance... hm...

The second counter-argument people use is “think of the youths!” Let’s be real... it’s scientifically proven that kids and teens are easily impressionable because of their underdeveloped brains and lack of experience. Not only the concerns of the younger members of society, they fear that by allowing us to enjoy our media, we are “normalizing” abusive relationships in society. Considering the state of the United State’s government, I understand where the fear is coming from. But they’re barking up the wrong tree and especially using the wrong method in preventing this dystopian future. I always see these people bring up the ‘Jaws’ case as to why there should be no yanderes and no support for them. You know, the case where there was a sudden increase in shark hunting due to public fear which pushed certain shark species into endangerment. It’s always this argument, I swear... anyways, they always toss this without never diving in deeper as to why this happened. 

Before Jaws, people didn’t know anything about sharks in general. There just wasn’t any interest in sharks because we humans just didn’t find time interesting at the time. They were there and we can’t really eat sharks. But, there were already tales about sharks being “man-eaters” from those stranded out at sea or curious citizens. The stereotype was already there. But Jaws brought sharks to the forefront of public scrutiny and shark hunting competitions came up because “what’s the harm? Sharks are man-eaters”. This dropped the shark population, but because of this there was an interest in sharks, funding to research them suddenly increased. Scientist turned their attention on sharks while later on fed to informing the public, making them educated and less scared of shark attacks. Jaws came out in 1975... Shark Week on the discovery channel came out in 1988... there’s a reason, folks. People became interested in sharks. Yes, Jaws hurt the shark population but it’s slowly been going up. Damage takes time to repair. But it also brought about awareness. While the stereotype isn’t dead (that’s just humans at this point and it’s always been a stereotype ever since man was on a boat), it opened a conversation. And that’s the key point here. (Here’s a link. But you can go even further if you research)

Abusive relationships, manipulative people, toxic actions... these are nothing new. “Getting rid” of yandere fans will not solve this issue, just like telling your kid “there are kids starving in Africa” will not end world hunger. For the Jaws example, I point to the argument that politicians make about how video games create violent people. We know that it’s nonsense, you know it’s nonsense. But there is a fear of the “unknown”. People back then thought that cartoons like Tom and Jerry would cause kids to grow up violent. And even further back, people thought that reading books created lazy people. The fear on what’s on TV is a fear people had since the beginning of time. People aren’t as soft as they believe they are but they can lack information... Instead of shutting down people and censor what goes on TV, use it as a stepping stone for the bigger conversation. It’s a lack of knowledge and fear of the unknown that killed the sharks but it is knowledge that is now protecting them. 

This is especially important for our younger peers. Raise of hands, who actually changed their minds as a teenager after someone called you stupid or told you “no” with giving a logical reason besides “because I say so.” I’m going to guess we got an empty room here. Attacking our younger peers or those who are older just because they like a character trope IS NOT HELPING THEM AND ESPECIALLY NOT MAKING THE ATTACKERS LOOK LIKE HEROES. THEY LOOK LIKE JACKASSES. Fuck man, the younger ones want acceptance and looking a supportive group by joining a fandom. Calling them toxic just pushes them to the edge these people never wanted them to be. The same applying to the older ones. We all got our issues and y’all never know what it is. That’s why I hate seeing people in our fandom gatekeep against our younger peers. They’re going to come in even though you say crap like “Lmaooo, my blog/game is 18+! Okay, byeeeee!” If you want to protect them then be their fucking guide, my dudes. You can have a mature conversation with them and explain the difference between fiction and reality and what’s wrong and right. “Yanderes are pretty cool, ay sport? But notice how that guy gaslighted the girl? That is a common tactic people do IRL. Be sure to recognize it as a red flag.” Fuck, is that so fucking hard for everyone? Some people act like they never grew on the internet during the early 2000s.Y’all were a teenager once. If what you’re doing wouldn’t help teenage you in the past, then you’re doing it wrong. Smh. 

Finally, I do want to make a point for those who use coping reasons. While I do understand where you’re coming from, you guys are our most vulnerable to these attacks but also the reason for the attacks as well. It’s the mindset of “How could you support something like this?! You must be a horrible person.” I know a lot of people aren’t like that but also, we got bad apples... people who take this for coping reasons way too far. To them, I ask them to come back from the edge and let’s look for help together. Using yanderes to embrace “yandere tendencies” or rationalizing your abuse as normal isn’t the way. Use it to help you breathe and help you feel grounded but don’t let it define you... especially don’t make it a lifeline. As for those who know the difference and can separate fiction from reality, I applaud you but you got some work in helping those who are too deep. I’ve seen some of the yandere Tumblr group chats on the app. I’ll be real... YIKES. It’s a bit of an echo chamber. I ended up having to message a user on a side since I saw red flags in the group chat when I was lurking. People were trying to give the wrong help by encouraging their actions. Just... don’t do this y’all. I get you relate but don’t get your homie in jail or a court date for a restraining order. 

Anyways, I’m sorry anon for pulling farther and farther away from you specifically since this is a big issue that everyone tackles and I’m also sorry that I can’t give you an “end all” answer. First, you can try having a civil conversation with these people. Try for the middle ground and if you feel like you can push further, then try to do a change of mind. But I know this is hard, especially when tensions build and emotions get heated. But it’s important to never explode that anger... or at least direct that anger into a logical response. The moment you explode and made an error of judgment, you will lose and suffer publically. If a conversation isn’t possible, then encourage these people to stay in their lane and unfollow you. Why the fuck are they following you if they hate the things you reblog? Sounds unhealthy... suggest some hobbies or blogs to follow instead. From there, if they try to continue the hate, just block them and delete the messages. As they say, don’t feed the trolls. Y’all may think you’ve seen all the hate anons we get but we get a lot more than what we answer. We just delete them because they’re typically incoherent or stupid. They don’t come back lol. 

From there, anon, surround yourself with people who you find agreeable and who you relate to. A lot of yandere blogs are down for a talk, I’ll be real. Just be sure you open up that you want to be friends lol. So... yeah. I’m sorry this isn’t perfect, but I hope it helps. Don’t be afraid of being yourself!

[longitudinalwaveme]

Villainy Squared

Dramatis Personae

Batman/Bruce Wayne, the heroic but grumpy crime fighting vigilante

Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel, the eccentric and dimwitted girlfriend of Joker

Harvey Dent/Two-Face, the angry D.A. turned mob boss who bases his decisions on coin flips

The Riddler/Edward Nygma, a childish, riddle-obsessed technological genius

The Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane, a psychopathic psychologist; obsessed with fear

Script

Act I

(Enter Riddler and Two-Face from different directions)

Riddler: Riddle me this, Gotham! What has- (Pause) Two-Face? What are you doing here?

Two-Face: Out of the way, Nygma. This is the Second National Bank, and I’m going to rob it.

 Riddler: But this is my heist! I’ve been planning it for months! You can’t just interrupt months of detailed planning because of your obsession with the number two! Why, I’ve already set up my riddle-based death traps of doom in there!

Two-Face: Tough luck, Nygma. You should’ve known better than to gamble on  the Second National Bank with me on the loose. Now get lost. (Shoves Riddler to the ground)

Riddler: Ow! (Stands up, brushes himself off) That was entirely uncalled for! And I’m not going anywhere until you find a different bank to rob. This one is mine! Mine! All mine!

Two-Face: Do you really want to tussle with me, Nygma?

Riddler: You aren’t so tough. I can take you. Probably.

Two-Face: (Laughs) A skinny little nerd like you? In your dreams, loser.

Riddler: I’m not a loser! Why, I’m Gotham’s greatest criminal mastermind and the smartest person in Gotham! You’re just a dumb thug!

Two-Face: I may be a thug, but I’m far from dumb. I was a lawyer before I turned to crime, remember? You have to be smart to get through law school!

Riddler: Whatever you say, Two-Face, whatever you say.

Two-Face: (Grabs Riddler by collar) Look here, punk. I’d feel bad fighting a weakling like you, so I’ll give you one last chance to leave. If you don’t, I’ll beat you to a pulp. Got it?

Riddler: But-but I can’t leave! I spent ten thousand dollars on this heist! If I don’t make a profit, I’m gonna be broke! Those riddle traps aren’t cheap, you know.

Two-Face: That’s your problem, Nygma, not mine. Now leave, or it won’t be just your bank account that’s broke.

(Enter Harley)

Harley: Hi, Two-Face! Hi, Eddie! What are you guys doing here?

Riddler: Hi, kid. I’m trying to rob this bank with the help of my riddle-based death traps of doom, but apparently Two-Face had a similar idea, and so we’re now having a difference of opinion regarding who should rob the bank.

Two-Face: (Shakes Riddler a bit) Yeah, and Nygma was just deciding to leave the bank robbing to a professional. What are you doing here, Harley?

Harley: Mister J sent me to rob the bank to fund our next comedy show.

Two-Face: Well, tell that green-haired freak that Two-Face beat you to it. This is my bank to rob, not his or anyone else’s. Isn’t that right, Nygma?

Riddler: Y-yes, sir. Just let me go and I’ll be out of your hair- (Aside) And out of money again! This stinks! How am I supposed to get respect when this keeps happening?

(Two-Face releases Riddler; Riddler rubs his neck)

Harley: Uh, I don’t think Mister J will like the idea of you taking his money, Two-Face.

Two-Face: Well, that’s too bad, because I’m taking it anyway.

Harley: Couldn’t the three of us just split the money, Two-Face? That way, we can all get what we want, and we don’t have to fight over it.

Riddler: Kid, we’re villains. We don’t share money with anyone, not even adorable little things like you. Sorry to disappoint.

Harley: But we’re friends, aren’t we?

Two-Face: No, we aren’t. At best, we’re acquaintances. Now you two had better get lost before I lose my temper. Like I said earlier, this is my heist, and I don’t share.

(Harley starts crying; Enter Scarecrow)

Scarecrow: Greetings, citizens of Gotham. You are about to participate in the largest experiment in mass hysteria ever recorded, courtesy of me, the Scarecrow! (Notices others) Wait- what are the three of you doing here? You’re not part of my experiment.

Two-Face: Go away, you sadistic creep. I don’t want anything to do with a sicko like you.

(Harley pulls out improbably long handkerchief to blow nose)

Scarecrow: Scared, Two-Face? You should be. And Riddler, how nice to see you.

Riddler: H-hello, Scarecrow. I-I was just leaving. See you around! (Tries to exit, only for Scarecrow to grab him and pull him back)

Scarecrow: Leaving so soon? Why, the experiment has only just begun!

Two-Face: (Mutters) Experiment, my foot. (To the others) I thought I told all three of you to leave! This is my bank robbery, not a fear experiment or a way to fund stupid jokes or a way to prove intellectual superiority! Now go before I get violent!

Scarecrow: Leave intimidation to me, Two-Face. You lack the proper finesse to be truly frightening to anyone-except for cowards like Riddler, of course.

Riddler: I-I’m not a coward! I’m a genius! (Aside) Why, oh, why did I have to pick the one bank in Gotham that three other supervillains wanted? It’s going to ruin me, and then I’ll never be able to prove that I’m better than Batman! It’s not fair! They cheated me! They cheated! (Pouts)

Harley: (Notices the Scarecrow, runs to him, hugs him) Hiya, Professor Crane! It’s nice to see you! How have you been?

Scarecrow: Good evening, child. I have been doing well, and I have conducted many fascinating experiments in fear. How have you been?

Harley: Great, Professor Crane!

Two-Face: (To Harley) You actually like this psycho?

Harley: Of course! He was my professor of psychology!

Scarecrow: And she was my favorite student. Her grasp of the physiological and psychological effects of fear, as well as the names and causes of many phobias, was astounding. (Pause) Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have a fear experiment to conduct.

Two-Face: Oh, no, you don’t. No one’s committing a crime in that bank but me!

Harley: No, I’m robbing it for Mister J!

Scarecrow: Child, my experiments are much more important than petty thievery, and there are plenty of other banks for you to rob. Couldn’t you attack one of them instead?

Harley: Mister J specifically told me to attack this one, Professor Crane. Couldn’t you do your experiment somewhere else? Or just wait for me to rob the bank before you start your experiment? I really wanna impress Mister J, and he’ll kill me if I don’t do what he says.

Two-Face: Why do you stay with that clown? He’s such a creep!

(The three ad lib an argument)

Riddler: Fellow villains, I have a brilliant solution to our problem! (Pause) Hey, guys, I have an idea! (Pause) Is anybody listening to me? I said I have an idea. (Pause) BE QUIET SO I CAN TELL YOU ALL MY PLAN!

(Other villains stop arguing)

Scarecrow: So, you finally grew a spine. I’m impressed, Riddler. What’s your idea?

Riddler: We all want to attack the same bank, but none of us are willing to team up or take turns, right?

Harley/Scarecrow/Two-Face: Right.

Riddler: So why don’t we bet for it? I have a fine set of cards at home, after all. The winner of the game gets to rob the bank-or spread fear gas, as the case may be- and the other three have to help them. Does that sound like a brilliant plan or what?

Harley: I love games! I’m in!

Two-Face: Everybody has equal odds of winning. That sounds fair to me. But I’ll have to flip my coin to decide. (Flips coin) The coin says that it’s a good idea. Let’s play.

Scarecrow: I normally dislike games, but, as this one will allow me to spend time with Harley, study three severely disturbed individuals, and get assistants for my experiment, I will play your game as well, and study how much you suffer from Ludophobia- the fear of losing-by so doing.

Riddler: Terrific! Let’s go to my Riddle-Lair.

(Exit all)

Act II

(Enter Batman on the phone)

Batman: Hello? Hello, Commissioner Gordon. Is something wrong? (Pause) The Scarecrow’s escaped from Arkham, too? That makes four high-profile criminals on the loose. Do we have any leads as to where they might have gone? Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. Make sure that Gotham’s citizens know not to attempt to engage them. The last time someone tried that, they ended up in the hospital. Thanks for telling me about his escape. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Well, I’ll start looking for him-and Arkham’s other three escapees-straightaway. Good-bye, Commissioner. (Puts phone away) Hello, audience. I am Batman, the guardian of Gotham City. I have been protecting the innocent citizens of Gotham City from its large collection of lunatics, mob bosses, corrupt politicians, psychopathic psychologists, and ordinary thieves and thugs, and I have also trained my ward, young Dick Grayson, to help me fight crime as Robin. However, he is in Washington, D.C. for a field trip, and so I am single-handedly striking fear into superstitious, cowardly criminals until he returns. However, I am currently facing a much more serious problem than usual: namely, the fact that Harley Quinn, Two-Face, the Riddler, and the Scarecrow have escaped from Arkham and are running amok. Each one is a dangerous criminal in their own right, and the idea of all four on the loose simultaneously would be enough to strike strong fear into the hearts of the good people of Gotham. Therefore, I must quickly defeat and recapture all four criminals before they can start committing crimes-or, worse yet, decide to team up. To the Batmobile, audience! (Batman pantomimes getting into car and then driving it) My sources tell me that the Riddler is hiding out in an abandoned publishing facility, while Harley Quinn is in an abandoned amusement park and the Scarecrow is in an abandoned haunted house. Two-Face is probably in one of his many apartments, but I’m not sure which one he’s in, so I should probably look for him first. Tell me if you see anything, audience. Thank you.

Act III

(Enter Riddler, Two-Face, Scarecrow, and Harley)

Harley: Nice place you got here, Eddie.

Riddler: I know, right? I took over this publishing facility after it was abandoned, added a few personal touches, and wallah! Instant masterpiece of home decorating!

Two-Face: If you like neon green question marks, maybe.

Riddler: Who doesn’t ?

Two-Face: 99.9% of people who aren’t you.

Harley: I like it. It’s so shiny and pretty!

Two-Face: That’s because, you, like Nygma, have the attention span, maturity level, and taste of a six-year-old.

Riddler: I do not have the brain of a six-year-old! Why, I’m the world’s greatest criminal mastermind! If I wasn’t a mature adult, I couldn’t be.

Two-Face: One, your claim to that title is very, very debatable. Two, even if you are a mastermind, your crimes are based on riddles, puzzles, and brainteasers. You’re an adult who uses children’s games for your crimes, and you throw hissy fits when you lose. Even I can’t deny that you’re a genius when it comes to tech and wordplay, but you have an extremely immature outlook on the majority of life.

Scarecrow: In other words, Riddler, you’re a technological and linguistic savant. Your skill in those areas far outstrips your capability in any other aspect of life, and in terms of social behavior you are extremely delayed to the point of it being clear that, emotionally and socially speaking, you’re still a small child. And Harleen has regressed to that point as well, in large part thanks to the Joker. Both of you are adults who act like children, and it’s why you’re insane.

Riddler: Whatever. You’re just jealous because neither of you has a brilliant mind like mine. (He grabs a box of cards and sits down at a table with them)

Scarecrow:  (To Two-Face) And, of course, his delusions of grandeur make his mental issues worse. (Both laugh and sit down)

Harley: Professor Crane! Two-Face! Stop being mean to Eddie! (Sits down)

Riddler: Yeah, stop being mean to Eddie-er, me!

Two-Face: (To Riddler) Aww, did we hurt your feelings? Scarecrow: (To Two-Face) Knock it off, Two-Face.

Two-Face: Why? It’s fun to watch Nygma freak out.

Scarecrow: I told you to knock it off! I don’t particularly care for Riddler, either, but we’re upsetting Harleen by making fun of him, and I hate it when she gets upset.

Two-Face: Who are you, and what have you done with Jonathan Crane?

Scarecrow: Harleen is my only friend, all right? I’m allowed to be nice to one person, aren’t I?

Two-Face: So, the big bad Scarecrow has a soft spot, huh? How cute.

Scarecrow: Mock me again and I’ll give you a faceful of fear gas.

Two-Face: Okay, okay, I’m sorry!

Scarecrow: That’s better. So, Riddler, what are we playing?

Riddler: I was thinking poker, but it’s really up to you three. I mean, I’ll win no matter what we play, so it doesn’t matter to me.

Two-Face: (Flips coin) The coin says we play blackjack.

Scarecrow: I was hoping to play rummy, myself, but as I am here to win, not to enjoy myself, I don’t particularly care what we play.

Harley: Um, the only card game I know how to play is Go Fish. Can we play that?

Riddler: You’ve never played a card game besides Go Fish? Really?

Harley: Really really, Eddie.

Riddler: Why?

Harley: All the other ones confuse me.

Riddler: I see. Since I don’t feel like teaching you to play poker, I guess we’re playing go fish.

Scarecrow: Very well. As I said, this  is merely an opportunity for me to study human behavior, nothing more. Go Fish is as good a game as any for that purpose.

Two-Face: No way are we playing Go Fish. That game is for little kids, not super criminals. Can you imagine how we’d look playing a game for little kids?

Riddler: Well, according to you, Harley and I act like children anyway, so why wouldn’t we play a kids’ game?

Two-Face: Okay, then, imagine how I’d look playing a kids’ game.

Harley: Aww, you’d be adorable , Two-Face!

Two-Face: Not the point I was trying to make. I wouldn’t look adorable, I’d look stupid, and nobody in the underground would ever take me seriously again. I am not playing Go Fish!

Scarecrow: All right, then you forfeit the game and have to help whichever one of us wins carry out our crime.

Two-Face: Fine! If that’s how you’re gonna play it, then I’ll ask my coin whether I should participate. (Flips coin; groans) Deal me in.

(Riddler deals and the four play Go Fish, ad libbing all the while)

Riddler: Yipee! I won! I won! I actually won! And you two thought I was a joke!

(Two-Face and Scarecrow grumble and glare as Riddler does an obnoxious happy dance)

Harley: Congrats, Eddie! Do you mind if I steal a little something for myself to keep Mister J happy while we’re helping you?

Riddler: Of course not. I may be a psychotic maniac, but even I don’t want to see you get hurt by that barbaric clown again. Speaking of which, you should really find a new boyfriend who treats you with the respect you deserve.

Harley: Whaddaya mean, Eddie? My puddin’ loves me!

Scarecrow: No, he doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t threaten to kill you for failing to fulfill his requests. I’ve told you this a thousand times before-he doesn’t love you, he’s using you.

Harley: Well, maybe Mister J is a little rough sometimes-

Riddler: A little rough? He pushed you out of a fourth-story window! What’s a lot rough for you, having him drop a nuclear bomb on you? Oh, wait-he was willing to do that, too!

Harley: But I l-l-love him!

(Harley starts crying again, Riddler pats her on the back awkwardly)

Two-Face: Does anyone else find it a little odd that three supervillains are lecturing someone about how they’re in an abusive relationship?

Scarecrow: Maybe a little. But then again, I used to be a psychologist. I know the signs of an abusive relationship when I see one.

Two-Face: You do? I thought you only cared about fear.

Scarecrow: I may be fascinated by the effects of fear on the human psyche, but that doesn’t mean that I have completely forgotten everything else I learned in order to become a psychologist. And besides, that poor child’s fear of disappointing the Joker, while invigorating for me in the abstract, is also what keeps her from leaving him. Fear plays a large role in such abusive relationships, and as such, I know a lot about it. (Pause) Poor child. Poor, poor child.

Two-Face: Why does her relationship with the Joker bother you ? You’re the psycho who deliberately makes people see their worst fears for your twisted “research”!

Scarecrow: That doesn’t mean I entirely lack standards, Two-Face. And, even if it did, that doesn’t mean that I want the only person in my entire life who ever wanted to be my friend to be constantly abused by the clown who claims to love her.

Two-Face: Okay, you have a point. (Examines his gun)

Harley: Why does everyone think that my puddin is abusing me? He doesn’t mean anything by what he does to me. (Blows nose)

Riddler: We think he’s abusing you because he is! He threw you out of a fourth-story window, drove you insane, got you involved in battles with a crime fighting ninja, throws you around, hits you, never listens to what you have to say, lies to you, makes fun of you, makes you do things against your will, and ignores you when you’re not convenient. What else would you call that?

Scarecrow: It’s simple psychology, really. He follows the standard pattern of abusers: he pretends he’s nice to win you to his side, then he makes you think that you can’t live without him, and once he’s convinced he can control you, he starts with the abuse.

Harley: But I love him!

Riddler: Is loving him worth him trying to kill you when he gets angry?

Harley: Yes.

(Riddler and Scarecrow groan)

Scarecrow: Child, if you stay with him, he will kill you. I am very similar to him, so I know that he is incapable of love. At best, you are a diversion to him. At worst, you are a punching bag. You need to break up with him and find someone else-preferably someone else who is less prone to creating gigantic explosions.

Riddler: My vote would be that you turn “puddin” into pudding, but that’s neither here nor there. Either way, you should ditch that creep and move on with your life.

Harley: But where would I go?

Riddler: Poison Ivy likes you. Maybe you could go live with her.

Harley: Thanks for the suggestion. You guys are the best friends a psychotic nutcase could ask for. (Blows nose) From now on, I’m done with that homicidal, abusive clown.

Scarecrow: Wonderful! And if he tries to bother you, I’ll give him a nightmare that he’ll never wake up from.

(Harley hugs Riddler, who looks thrilled, then hugs Scarecrow)

Riddler: (Aside) I got hugged by a girl! Score!

Two-Face: Can we go rob the bank now, please? I’m as fond of weird counseling sessions as anyone else, but if we don’t get going soon, I’m going to forget our deal and rob the place by myself using my own plan.

Riddler: Okay, okay, we’re coming. Don’t have a cow.

Harley: You know, now that I’ve broken up with Mister J, I don’t really need to rob the bank, so I’m going to go find Ivy. Good-bye!

Riddler: Atta girl, kid! Bye!

Scarecrow: Farewell, child.

(Exit Harley)

Two-Face: You two really are crazy.

Riddler: And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s go rob that bank!

Commercial Break!

Act IV

(Enter Batman)

Batman: I’ve checked the hideouts of Two-Face, Harley Quinn, and the Scarecrow, but they weren’t at any of them. That means that they must’ve teamed up with Riddler for some reason, and they must be hanging out here, at the abandoned publishing facility Riddler uses. I hope that, whatever nefarious crime they’re planning, they’re still here now, because if they aren’t, I’ll have to deal with panicked civilians.

(Enter Harley)

Harley: Hi, Batman! (Does double take) Batman?

Batman: Surrender  quietly and things will be much easier for you, Ms. Quinzel.

Harley: Great! I was just looking for you! (Hugs him) I’m breaking up with the Joker, so I need to go to Arkham to get away with him and meet up with Red.

Batman: (Confused) You’re surrendering?

Harley: Yeah! I’m breaking up with the Joker, so I need to go to Arkham so that he can’t get me, and this is the quickest way to do it.

Batman: All right. (Handcuffs her) Why the change of heart regarding the Joker?

Harley: Eddie and Professor Crane told me he was abusing me, and they made sense, so I decided to leave him and become my own person again.

Batman: I’m glad to hear that, Ms. Quinzel. I wish you the best of luck with your attempt to break the cycle of codependency and abuse.

(They pantomime getting into the Batmobile and driving to Arkham in it. Harley throws her hands in the air like she’s on a roller coaster)

Harley: WHEEE!

(Batman stops the car and lets her out. They ‘walk inside’ Arkham)

Batman: Good-bye, Ms. Quinzel.

Harley: Good-bye, Batman. (Hugs him) And next time, you can call me Harley. Everybody does.

Batman: Good-bye, Harley. (Aside) Now I just have to hope that the other three have kept out of trouble.

Act V

(Enter Riddler, Scarecrow, and Two-Face)

Two-Face: If this plan fails, I’ll make you eat your hat.

Riddler: Fail? I’m a genius! So long as Batman doesn’t show up, my plan can’t possibly fail!

(Enter Batman)

Batman: Hello, gentlemen.

Scarecrow: (To Riddler) Congratulations, Riddler. You jinxed your own plan. How predictable.

Batman: I assume that asking the three of you to come in quietly would be too much to ask.

Riddler: How did you solve my riddles, Batman?

Batman: I didn’t have to. The three of you left a trail so obvious that anyone could have followed you here.

Riddler: You didn’t solve the riddles I sent you? Then I won! I won! I actually won!

Batman: Sure. Whatever makes you happy. (Aside) It’s like fighting a six-year-old.

Riddler: And now, I’ll kill you with a riddle-based death trap of-

(Batman knocks him out)

Batman: There’s your prize, Nygma.

Scarecrow: Did you see Harleen, by any chance?

Batman: Yes, I did. I took her to the asylum myself, in fact. Why?

Scarecrow: I was hoping that she would find a way to keep herself safe from that lunatic. Good for her! (Pause; Brandishes fear canister) It’s time for you to face your fears, Batman!

Batman: No, it’s time for you to face the law. (Knocks fear canister out of his hands) Why did you willingly help Harley, Crane?

Scarecrow: That’s personal information, Batman. (Tries to grab fear canister, is knocked out by Batman)

Two-Face: (Makes a run for the bank) Looks like I get the money after all! (Is knocked out by Batman)

Batman: Good night, Dent. (Pulls out phone) Hello? Commissioner Gordon? It’s Batman. I have three criminals for you to arrest. They’re right outside the Second National Bank. Thank you. (Puts phone away) I can’t believe that the Scarecrow and the Riddler care enough about Harley to try to get her away from the Joker, but it’s beneficial anyway, as it means that I might not have to deal with Harley Quinn any more. Who would have expected that?

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Road Trip : Punk!AU

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Jaskier x Reader, Punk!Geralt x Punk!Yennefer Word Count: 2,589 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ a/n: Here we gooooo! Part one is complete and we are on the road! Part two will be coming by @heroics-and-heartbreak at their leisure. Enjoy!

Part I – Coming Out of My Cage

Aevryn hung up the phone, closed out of Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook, took a deep breath and then walked into the little diner.

“It’s done,” she announced. The little ragtag group she addressed sat slumped in the booth. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged shrugs of resignation, Win gave Aevryn an encouraging smile, and you rubbed comforting circles into Jaskier’s back. He was clearly the most upset of all of you which was hard because he also set the tone for the rest of the group 75% of the time.

“Did Andrzej say when the bus would be fixed?” Geralt asked.

“They’re going to have to do some extensive work,” she said, voice falling into her most professional, clear tone as she repeated the words she’d recited to all of the venues you’d have to miss, “They said it could be as long as two weeks but they’re hoping to get it done in one.”

Jaskier slumped further, the pendant clunking against the linoleum tabletop.

“So we’re stuck here til then?” Yennefer asked.

“Not necessarily,” Aevryn said, taking her seat next to Win who placed a hand on her thigh and patted it comfortingly, “We just won’t be able to get to those places in time to perform. But they’ve agreed to refund the tickets or offer replacements for when we do them on the way back down the countryside.”

Win looked at you and could see the wheels turning in your eyes, sensing that you had a plan even before you lifted your gaze to hers and gave her that eureka smile you got when you had a scathingly brilliant idea.

“So we don’t stay here,” you said. Jaskier raised his head to look at you, skeptical but intrigued. “We do a road trip.”

“A road trip?” Geralt echoed.

“Yeah! We get a beat up van or something and we hit the road and when the tour bus is fixed it can meet up with us wherever we’re at!” you exclaimed, looking around the table for support.

“I’m in, that sounds fun as hell!” Win piped up, sharing a smile with their best friend who beamed at them and then looked over at Aevryn who was running the numbers.

“We could do that,” she said, “If we made sure we stayed in contact with Andrzej.”

“What do you think babe?” you asked Jaskier who had started to sit up a bit more, his sky blue eyes slowly clearing.

“It has been a long time since we were able to spend time together without working,” he said, turning to look at his bandmates. Yennefer nodded but you could see that Geralt’s furrowed brows were not convinced.

“Hmm,” Geralt began, a bad sign, “I don’t know, Jaskier. It may be safer for us to stick close by.”

“That isn’t very punk rock of you, Geralt,” Yennefer said coolly, sipping her coffee nonchalantly as though she couldn’t feel Geralt’s glowering stare shooting daggers in her direction.

“Road trip it is then,” Geralt snapped, “I’ll get the van.”

-----

“It’s perfect!” Jaskier cried, arms out wide as though he was preparing to hug the vehicle Geralt had driven back to them a suspiciously short while later. It was a vintage Volkswagen bus in a tawny brown and white. The front seats had wooden beads strapped to them and Geralt leaned with his arm around the wheel, shooting Yennefer a challenging look.

“What do you think, Yen? Isn’t she beautiful?” Jaskier asked excitedly, totally oblivious to the tension between Geralt. Well, oblivious or just desensitized after years of it going on at low levels around him.

“It’s a beast,” she said in a tone that wasn’t quite critical but also wasn’t clearly praising. It was also uncertain whether she spoke about the bus or the man she stared at as she answered who gave her a rueful smirk in response.

“This is what we should be doing these tours in,” Jaskier insisted, pulling you with him to jump inside and claim a seat. The car smelled like stale smoke and the seats crunched beneath you with a plastic covering that you knew was going to stick to your thighs after sitting on it for too long. It was perfect.

“We’ll see how you feel after sleeping in it for a week,” Yennefer said, taking the front passenger seat promptly.

“Hey nobody got a chance to call shotgun,” Win protested, though only jokingly as she and Aevryn had plans for the backseat anyway. Yennefer looked at her through the tops of her sunglasses.

“Guess you’ll have to draw quicker next time,” she said in a voice that sounded cold but a smile that was warm as she leaned back against the seat, the dark hair tangling in the wooden beads. The bus roared to life and they set off down the road, getting about as far as the exit for the highway before Jaskier announced that it was actually illegal to have a road trip without snacks and Geralt stopped by a gas station so they could get some supplies. The little bell above the door dinged a welcome and the man behind the counter gave you the barest glance and nod as you walked in. You split up to cover different corners of the convenience store, a couple of baskets between you to pile in things as you went.

“Ok I think we have all the food groups,” you said before long, looking down in the basket that held a large bag of sour gummy worms, a tub of red vines, two bags of chips (doritos and harvest cheddar sun chips), a couple of king size Hershey bars, three cans of pringles, and a multipack of pop tarts.

“This has actual food in it,” Yennefer said, casually chucking in a bag of trail mix that she knew you all would just pick the m&ms out to eat.

“Drinks?” Geralt asked, heading to the cooler with the rest of you hurrying in his wake.

“Waters,” Yennefer said, giving you all a look that said it was happening whether you liked it or not and she grabbed a few big bottles of Smartwater. Geralt rolled his eyes and threw some Arrowhead in the basket.

“Obviously Redbull,” Aevryn said, pulling open the door only to have Jaskier stall her hand with his.

“I think you mean Monster,” he corrected. She cocked an eyebrow at him and pulled a face.

“Don’t do this, Jaskier. Not here. Not in public,” she said warningly.

“I’m a Nos girl myself,” you piped up. Both Aevryn and Jaskier turned to give you twin disgusted faces but your plan had worked, giving them a common enemy to keep the fighting to a minimum.

“Just pick one,” Geralt said, suppressing a heavy sigh.

“Yes, one,” Yennefer emphasized, “We’re not buying six different kinds of energy drink.”

“You got two different kinds of water!” Aevryn challenged. Yennefer shot Geralt a look but he just smiled at her irritation which only made her more frustrated.

“Obviously it’s gotta be Rockstar. I mean, come on,” Win said, shaking her head like you were all insane. Yennefer and Geralt gave her a baleful look while Jaskier laughed.

“That’s pretty good. The joke, not he drink, which tastes like piss. Sorry Win,” Jaskier said. She stuck her tongue out at him and you smacked his chest, chastising him for being rude. He pouted at you and gave you puppy dog eyes and you planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Alright,” Geralt said, pushing past the lot of you. He reached into the cooler and pulled out roughly three of every energy drink, only taking care to pull out exactly five Mango Ginger Zevias which pulled a small smile to Yennefer’s lips though she made sure to keep it hidden until he’d passed her and headed up to the counter. He took a brief turn and then wove back into view with a 12 pack of cheap beer.

“Now it’s a road trip,” Jaskier said, pulling you in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey,” Win said, pilling Aevryn’s hand into theirs, distracting her momentarily from the phone she was squinting at with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah! Sorry! Just saw something,” she said, forcing up a smile though Win could tell something was wrong.

“Win, please tell Jask that I’m right and Powerade is better than Gatorade!” you called from the front of store to which Geralt barked something about not sitting through this again. Win shook her head and ran up to the front, preparing their argument for the great Powerade vs. Gatorade debate of 2020.

“Hey,” Yennefer said, walking over to Aevryn as soon as Win left, “What did he do?”

“What makes you think – ok, yeah, it is,” Aevryn said, sighing heavily and handing Yennefer her phone. Yennefer saw it was a DM for Aevryn’s personal twitter:

@valdomarxofficial: heard the concerts were canceled. everything ok?

Yennefer considered the phone for a moment. Aevryn bit her lip and watched Yennefer’s face, looking for something. Disappointment or anger or something tangible to respond to. Her friend just gave the phone the same impassive look she gave most things and then she deleted the DM before handing the phone back to Aevryn.

“I’d block him but you could just undo it,” she said pointedly. She looked towards the front where Win was posing for a selfie with you and then looked back to Aevryn. “Does she know?”

“Yes,” Aevryn said, ‘I mean, there isn’t much too know, honestly! But she knows I have an ex and that it’s…. complicated.”

“It’s really not that complicated, Aev,” Yennefer said. Before she could continue Geralt whistled from the front, pulling Yennefer’s attention towards him to shoot him a scathing glare that made him grin.

“Let’s do, this fucking chocolate’s already melting.”

Aevryn hurried past Yennefer to catch up to Win who took her hand and Yennefer followed suit, tucking the rest of the conversation away for later.

-----

The world passed by in a blur of steel that bled into trees. Jaskier propped his converse-clad feet on the window despite Geralt’s protests and rested his head in your lap to rest while you craned to face Win, joining her and Aevryn in singing along to music from their phone. Yennefer sipped her Zevia and rested her face against the open window, the wind and sun caressing her face and sending her dark locks flowing behind her. You noticed Geralt glancing at her, his eyes following the sun’s progress across her features as though he were imagining that he was offering her with that tender caress, that soft warmth. He saw your looking at him and though you quickly looked away he kept his eyes firmly on the road after, not noticing when Yennefer peeked an eye open to offer her own subtle scrutiny.

It was a fairly peaceful ride all things considered, until Mr. Brightside came on and everyone was forced to scream-sing along (another law according to Jaskier). They had just about reached the chorus when the song cut out, the whole bus pausing with their breath held.

“What happened?”

“It’s lost connection,” Jaskier explained. They finished the song acapella but it wasn’t the same and evrery one was a bit glum until Geralt pulled through McDonald’s. He’d spent enough time with his bandmates, and with people in general, to know that there was very little nuggets couldn’t improve. He rebelliously got a cheeseburger and ordered Yennefer a filet-o-fish but the rest got to share a massive pile of nuggets.

“You ok?” Win asked Aevryn, noticing how she kept picking up her phone and putting it back down again.

“Yeah it’s just… I’m used to always checking things, you know? For work,” she explained, ignoring the look Yennefer sent her in the rearview mirror.

“It’s a vacation for you too, Aev. You gotta loosen up a little,” Jaskier protested. She rolled her eyes and turned to face him.

“Hard to do that when you’re out there accepting every bloody birthday invitation and prom proposal,” she argued. His eyes widened and his mouth formed a little ‘O’ of surprise and indignation.

“What is the point of being a famous musician if we don’t do all the things we wish our favorite bands had done for us?” he asked. Geralt sighed heavily and Yennefer instinctively reached out and patted his thigh, knowing this was a fight they’d heard a thousand times before. Geralt stiffened slightly, looking down at the hand that rested on his thigh, but she didn’t pull away when he did. She offered him a small smile and she could see he wanted to return it but turned back to the road. Only when he shifted in his seat did she remove her hand, putting it back in her lap and looking out into the sunset as it bathed the land around them in gorgeous oranges and fuchsias that were muted by her warring emotions.

As evening crept into night and the signal didn’t come back Jaskier found a map tucked into the front seat pocket. It was old and yellowed but the land was the same and he handed it to Yennefer.

“I don’t need a map,” Geralt grumbled.

“Geralt don’t be stupid, you’re not even from America,” Yennefer replied.

“Roach and I know where we’re going,” he mumbled.

“Sorry – did you name the van?” Jaskier asked, his eyes lighting up with amusement that only doubled when he saw Geralt glare bashfully, not realizing he’d been overheard.

“Maybe,” he grunted.

“Oh that’s adorable! But why Roach?” Jaskier asked, crinkling his nose up.

“Because I found a dead roach in it and the dealer knocked off another hundred for it,” Geralt answered simply. Jaskier paled and then it was Geralt’s turn to be amused as he stifled a yawn.

“At the next exit you need to pull over so we can switch drivers,” Yennefer said.

“Nobody else is driving Roach,” Geralt answered, not caring who overheard his name for the van now that the secret was out. Part of Geralt’s allure was that once he said or did something he committed to it so hard it became not only acceptable, but cool. Yennefer remained unimpressed.

“How are you going to drive all night?” she argued. He slid one hand to the cup holder and lifted the half-empty can of a dangerous looking energy drink called Power Horse, gesturing it at her before taking a pull off of it. Yennefer rolled her eyes and folded the map back up.

“Fine,” she said, “But if you get us wrapped around a tree or worse, stuck in some field in the middle of nowhere, I get to decide the punishment.”

“Well you know how I like to be punished,” he said, fixing her with a smile that would have been charming on someone else but was devastating on him. Her face remained impassive but when she rolled her head back to face the window you could see the reflection of her smile in it as she settled in to rest. Aevryn leaned against the side of the van and Win lay against her, pulling the blanket they’d found tucked under the set against them. You and Jaskier cuddled together, this time your head resting in his lap so he could stroke your hair and hum a song for you until you fell fast asleep to the sound of his voice and the steady rumble of the van winding its ways through the countryside.

[musesonawhim]

about Britta Perry

characters I’d like for her to interact with: mostly just the study group? at least for now, and especially after the show ends.  

icons: only from Ibiza for now, not made by me

about community and this muse: she’s a test muse, I can't promise to pick the perfect phrasing she'd use. I didn’t memorize Community episodes but I did watch it several times and can google if needed. 

page in construction and important to read due to trigger-y themes and my own take on her. Keep in mind that Britta's actions aren't always right and I do NOT consider them okay. The most important things are bolded, it’s up to you whether to read the rest or not. 

She will definitely do 'woke' things just for brownie points or mean well but not research enough to discuss a topic, sometimes actually defending the wrong side because she listened to a loud vocal minority.

I consider her straight because I believe that if Britta had felt even the slightest attraction to women she’d have used it to win arguments in every way possible, being the person she is, and made it a constant topic of conversation. That and she said so (and denied Annie a kiss)

Very important: Britta has been molested as a child by a man in a dinosaur costume, specifically at her 11th birthday party, and told her father, who didn't believe her and took his side after she told the restaurant owner. This was both mentioned in the show, albeit subtly, and confirmed in the official website and confirmed by Dan Harmon. That is an important part of Britta to me, and explains some of her issues. There will be references to it in threads with tags such as "rape tw" and "abuse tw" since we don't know how far it went and it tends to be the most common blocked tag for people who can be triggered by it, and if requested 'pedophilia tw', just in case. Please do tell me if you’d rather avoid this topic completely, I can’t always ask everyone beforehand and I promise you I will not as questions about it nor be upset. Your comfort comes before my roleplaying. I would love if she got to share this and vent to a few important friends while she works on it through therapy, which I headcanon was an on and off secret thing during the serie, especially after she decided to study psychology, and became permanent at the end of the season while she worked as bartender.

This also means that what her parents did to her, not believing her, drug testing her as a child because she laughed too much and so on, will be portrayed as the abuse it was, not a laughing matter, and I'm in favor of Britta never rekindling their relationship and being angrier for a longer time with her friends for talking to them behind her back, even if she never told them just how bad they were with examples, but eventually lets it go because of that very reason. We can write canon divergent threads where she’s more forceful about not wanting their friends to interact with them in a more serious way, or even tell them what they did, but otherwise canon isn’t that different if we have just Britta cut them off her life. 

CANON “DIVERGENCES”

This may be an odd choice but I can't write Britta in a cartoonish way*, so in the present, as in after the show, I'd like to write her a bit more like she was in s1, capable of having an adult conversation (it’s a process but she’s getting back to that), the Britta who had the ability to be 'more' reasonable than in later reasons, and to have her behave more realistically even if still messing up a lot and with her ridiculous moments. She's still overdoing it with activism and going about it in often inappropriate/incorrect ways in her desperate attempt to be a woke and good person. She still says things she shouldn't say and gets needlessly defiant too. What happened in canon happened here too, except her forgiving her parents or talking to them again like I wrote above, or joking about them paying for her. She works hard to return all the borrowed money, especially after the show is over and she moves to a new and extra cheap place.

To keep the show canon the way it was, since her decay works in a tvshow but it’s not doable for me as ‘Britta simply opened up and was always that way’, I headcanon many of her behaviors around the middle of the serie -between s2-s3 until more or less the last season- as both a bit of a breakdown (when excessive; after all saying that she was always drunk/high doesn’t sounds as her being okay) and as her being a lost woman trying to find herself, and even playing up some of the 'dumbness' to fit in with her new persona and to shield herself from pain, because she would hide her real self to keep it from getting hurt. She becomes a bit more well-adjusted after the end of the serie, also because she puts an effort into not being high or drunk, and the therapy is starting to work, while still trying to heal from her past and still having trouble being a fully responsible adult - still the woman who postpones laundry and has weird cats. She joins her canonically unnamed brother (that I’ll name Walter) who works with disabled children after she gets her psychology degree - not actually as therapist, she becomes more of a helper who can give them advice while still working at the bar too.

*She went from being able to read Pierce's actions in the second episode correctly and say "He offered me a 100 dollars to switch cards with him just so he could be partners with Jeff. I think he thought getting closer to Jeff would bring him respect in the group. I think he spent his whole life looking out for himself, and he would trade it all for a shot at some kind of family" and invoke the freedom of information act to request copies of Annie’s notes 

to being so dumb she didn't know it was weird to say to Jeff and his own father that "I just want to acknowledge there are a lot of emotions flowing right now. You two are probably feeling a strong impulse to sleep with each other, and hey, that's normal." when applying psychology notions, talk about 'edible complex' or "what, I have 3d vision now?" and I just can’t see that happening, the person she ‘really’ was in later seasons couldn’t have pretended to be actually smart for a year and a half. Nor forget how people speak or even move normally, there is a difference between opening up and showing your dumb side and that.

RELATIONSHIPS - not necessary to read, just my take on them

To be clear, when it comes to the study group, I’d die to actually have Britta bond more, in a more genuine way, with everyone and straighten things up when they don’t work, and just really feel close to them all, more than canon showed, so what I’m writing here is just the way I see things right after the end of the show and they can be made better later.  Jeff is the closest person to her in terms of being a peer that she understands and that seems to understand her, whether it's written in a romantic or completely platonic way (I’m okay with both, but Britta may slightly resent Annie if in threads she’s portrayed as back together with Jeff, since she never seemed completely okay with that to me). She does care about his opinion in particular, while she is a little more able to shrug off the mocking from the rest of the group (see the concert she tried to pull off so he wouldn't win). Abed is also particularly special to her, since she considers him one of her first real friends ever and there was never a romantic or sexual interaction to mess that up. I don't ship her with Troy but I recognize her past feelings for him, even if ultimately they didn't fit. Her relationship with Annie may bring up some defensiveness, I’d love for them to be friends but during the show there was more constant disagreement than bonding (though living together helped), so I’d like for them to become friends instead of assuming they support each other. Shirley was possibly the closest female friend to her, who taught her more about how to be ‘socially girly’, with things such as bathroom breaks together and comforting Annie. Even there were plenty problems with the two disrespecting each other’s beliefs so often. Pierce was, well, Pierce, and she tried to be nice to him mostly out of ‘duty’ because that’s how people should behave. She’s less close to Frankie and Elroy because most of that school year she was drunk or high or in her own world but I like to think things got better after the show, especially with Frankie who gives her such a good vibe.. 

[bellamyroselia]

I found an unfinished KI fanfic from my computer and some stuff in it was pretty funny

“It’s hard to get any friends when you’re only angel around...”

“And what about Dark Pit? Is he currently unobtainable or something?”

“Well, he doesn’t want to fight right now, so... I guess he is.”

- Pit and Palutena

“Saltwater springs do indeed exist.”

“They do?!”

“Didn’t you just say you found one?”

-  Palutena, Pit and Dark Pit

“Hah! I only speak the truth and if Palutena thinks she’s so much better than me, she should come down here and challenge me herself!”

“... Challenge accepted, mortal.”

-  Arachne and Palutena

“It’s not like you have to. Dad never told mother about Dionysus and it turned out fine.”

“Palutena, mother killed Dionysus when she found out where father was keeping him and his heart had to sewed to father so he could be born again...”

“... You know what? You’re right. That was a terrible example.”

-  Palutena and Ares

“Hey! I thought this was about your daughter, not about that who has the biggest harem or horde of children.”

 -  Palutena

“I don’t know what responsible parents do!”

-  Ares

“You youngsters, always bored because there’s supposedly nothing to do...”

“You’re getting old, auntie Palutena.”

“You take that back!”

-  Palutena and young Nike

“You truly are a one big softie when it comes to your children, aren’t you?”

 -  Palutena

“Are you sure this isn’t about that golden apple? Because it sure does sound like it is...”

“Shut up.”

-  Hermes and Palutena

“You know what Discordia? You take your job way too seriously.”

“When I’m with you, the job practically does itself.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s a one strong word, Palutena! You can’t truly mean that, insulting your own dear sister like that-”

“You caused that problem in the first place!”

 -  Palutena and Eris, who’s referred by her Roman name

“Who’s Pyrrha?”

“... Please tell me you’re joking.”

-  Palutena and Pandora

“I did always found it weird that he just came out of nowhere. I should’ve guessed that dad was on it again.”

 -  Palutena

“My snakes are much cuter than hers.”

“... He sure lives up to his name.”

“He’s not wrong.”

-  Erichthonius, Medusa and Palutena

“What happened to our sweet baby brother?”

“... I was killed. Do you really need more reasons?!”

“Fine then, don’t tell.”

 -  Palutena and young Dionysus

“How was your day?”

“I must say auntie, I didn’t expect to save so many people from their own stupidity today.”

-  Palutena and Phobos

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe you could make an argument about his hair resembling that of a black-maned lion. They too seem to have a horrible case of root growth.”

-  Palutena and Deimos about Phobos

“I’m not going there alone Lucina. And don’t forget that I’m smart.”

“Palutena, you know that’s highly debatable.”

 -  Palutena and Eileithyia, who’s referred by her Roman name

“And what’s Poseidon going to do? Put me on a trial?”

-  Ares 

“That rings hollow considering that dad isn’t your only brother. And it’s not like my aunts are all that smart either.” 

“Are you insulting me?”

“Maybe.”

 -  Nike and Palutena

“For the last time, I’m not going to do your dirty job! Get rid of your mother yourself!”

-  Viridi to Phosphora

“You do have some experience about killing giants, don’t you?”

 -  Palutena about to make Artemis cry

“What’s that in your hair?”

“It’s dried blood.”

“But why-”

“Oh, there’s luxury urns with hot springs and rivers in them? Well, apparently giants can only afford cheap knock-offs then!”

-   Palutena and Ares

“Why you’re acting like this?”

“Oh shut up you old hag, you’re not my mother!”

 -  Viridi and Aphrodite

“All this happened because of her?!”

“She’s my mother. I couldn’t let them hurt her!”

“She caused this mess! Why are you protecting her!?”

“...You know what? Fine! It’s not like you understand any of it because you never had a mother! You could never understand the bond between parent and child!”

-  Palutena and Ares

“Bath bomb!”

“Brainfart!”

“Traffic-light-eyed freak!”

“... Is this why childhood is important?”

-  Palutena, Aphrodite and Hermes

“So sweetie, could you please explain why you don’t like Viridi?”

“Apollo told me she’s going to ruin my wedding!”

-  Palutena and young Harmonia

“What’s the point of having wings if they’re useless?!”

“Sweetie, it’s because you haven’t learn to fly yet. All you need is practice.”

“I have to do what?”

-  Palutena and young Adrestia

“I don’t know how to read yet.”

“Don’t worry, sometimes I think your father doesn’t know that either.”

-  young Adrestia and Palutena

“And why do you think so?”

“Because unlike you, I have every-man-appeal.”

-  Palutena and Aphrodite

“That has a lot of sexual energy in it. Are you sure these are for warfare?”

“I knew you were a freak Palutena, but what made you think that anyone would ever use bows and clubs in bedroom?”

-  Palutena and Aphrodite

Why is that import god still here?!”

-  Apollo about Pyrrhon

“Can things get any worse?!”

“I founded a city and got married!”

 -  Viridi and happy-go-lucky-drunk Dionysus

“Your descendants don’t count as your children.”

“Pothos and Himeros are my sons.”

“... Fine, you win this round.”

-  Palutena and Ares

“How did he manage to fit Thanatos into that small box?”

“Really? That’s what you’re wondering?”

-  Ares and Palutena 

“Angels aren’t allowed to get married, is that right?”

“What? Of course not! What made you think that?”

“Well... Actually, now when I’m thinking about it... Nobody would want to marry Adrestia anyway.”

-  young Harmonia and Palutena

“What’s scarier than a bomb?”

“According to your sister, sex is.”

“Things like these are why I don’t understand what Cadmus sees in her.”

 -  Deimos and Palutena

“You look a lot like their deceased son.”

“... What?”

-  Palutena and Dark Pit

“Young lady, explain this blasphemy right now!”

“She pays me better. It makes everything much easier.”

“For the last time, it’s not my job to pay for you!”

-  Palutena and Adrestia

“He’s adorable. What’s his name?”

“As if I would tell that to you, brainfart.”

-  Palutena and Aphrodite

“Hey! If you’re dumb enough to throw a tortoise, it’s your fault if it hits you on the head and you die.”

“But who threw the tortoise?”

“Hawks. They do that on a daily basis!”

“But they can’t throw, only drop...”

“And I saw when a hawk dropped a tortoise which lead to a death of a philosopher. Nature is scary.”

 -  Zephyr and Pit

“I have two girlfriends because I’m a better lover than certain others.”

“If that’s so, what about-”

“He’s a playboy.”

-  Zephyr and Palutena

“Honestly, I’m surprised that this hasn’t happened before. I guess all you needed was little help from mortals.”

“That sounds so morbid when you put it like that...”

 -  Palutena and Pit

“What was he even doing?”

“My guess is that he tried to make Viridi proud, but got drunk.”

“Because of you?”

“He’s a danger to society when he’s sober!”

-  Palutena and Hermes

“Then be thankful you haven’t heard stories of certain gods or mortals.”

“Like who?”

“Trust me Pit, you don’t want to know.”

-  Palutena and Pit

“Oh, so when lions do it it’s ‘sad, but normal part of life and we shouldn’t interfere’ but when I do it to a city that stopped worshiping me, I’m abusing my powers?”

-  not-so-happy-go-lucky-drunk Dionysus 

“Oh don’t you dare! I’m going to make you...”

“Make me what, suffer? You can’t kill me and even if you could, you wouldn’t be able to make it painful.”

“That’s it you little son of a-”

“Children, TIME OUT!”

-   Macaria, Phobos and Palutena

“I’m this close of sending him to Underworld.”

“Aren’t you overreacting a bit? He’s grieving...”

“And it’s getting on my nerves! He must get his fiancee back!”

“... A stone just dropped from my heart. Thank heavens.”

-  Apollo and Palutena

“Who names their child ‘breath of life?”

“It says ‘soul’, idiot.”

“You’re both wrong, it actually says ‘butterfly’. But they’re all practically the same thing so I don’t blame you for confusing those words.”

“Somebody isn’t telling the truth here.”

 -  Pit, Dark Pit and Palutena

“It wasn’t me! It was my body!”

-  Pit

“Hey! What do you think I am, a monster?!”

“Well, you do have six limbs...”

“I have six limbs?!”

“Palutena, did you teach him anything?!”

-  Pit and Apollo

“Lady Palutena, is he always this angry?”

“No, just when someone rejects him. He doesn’t take it well if people don’t like him.”

 -  Pit and Palutena

“You should be careful. Those sheep could kill you otherwise.”

“I figured it out myself. Do you have any advice that could be useful?”

“Well, there’s those thorn bushes there.”

 -  Dark Pit and Psyche

“That’s... Disturbing.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who locked a girl into a house full of invisible people.”

- Pit and Dark Pit

“So that’s why you refused to talk about it earlier? Because goddess of light was no match to goddess of beauty when it came to beauty?”

“Pit, this is your last warning.”

“And I have no questions about that anymore.”

-  Pit and Palutena 

“Come on ants! It’s time to eat the baby bird.”

“Baby bird? What baby bird... Wait, I’m the baby bird aren’t I?”

 -  sober Dionysus and Pit

[unlikely-rwby-aus]

Good Luck For The Bad Omens

(Dedicated to Cleo)

It started soon after the whole group had finished in Haven.

Qrow went to have a training session with Ruby, as they had been doing since he recovered from his poisoning. Mainly because Ruby wanted to be better at fighting around him, and despite his protests about her getting hurt, she showed unusual sharpness in her winning argument: as it was, fighting alongside him was dangerous, but it could both better her reflexes and intuition, and make her more used should a situation put them together in a battle.

'Heh, little scamp sure was good for a leader.'

A week before departing for Argus, Qrow was having another training session with Ruby. He went earlier to the training hall, a room filled with various equipment for all kinds of training, in order to get the placeready for a sparring fight. When he got there, Blake was already occupying it.

She was by herself, running and jumping from obstacle to obstacle in every way she could. Qrow recognized the training regime. It was aimed towards raising agility and sense of balance - perfect for her, he guessed. He used the same one in Beacon.

However, just as he entered, a wooden beam broke in two under Blake's foot.

Qrow made a grimace. There it was, his Semblance yet again hurting others. At least it was nothing serious this time. He could try and be a gentleman about it.

"You okay, kid?" Walking towards Blake, the alcoholic in him momentarily thought of offering her a drink as an apology. He decided against it, if only because he only had his flask on him.

Blake's reaction made him want to take a few swigs himself.

It wasn't a major thing. Her ears suddenly shot up, and she raised her head to look at him. Her bright amber eyes were a bit wider-opened than usual. Her muscles tensed a bit. It could've been just embarrassment from the graceless fall.

"Y-eah, I'm fine. Glad I don't have a tail as a Faunus feature." Her voice sounded stable enough, but Qrow couldn't miss the small note of... fear? Apprehension? The afformentioned embarrassment? He couldn't tell. It was justified, whatever she was feeling in that moment.

"Sorry about that, my Semblance acts up at the worst times."

"Your... Semblance?"

Ruby hadn't told her? Weird. Maybe she didn't find a good moment.

"My Semblance causes bad luck to happen around me. It activates on its own, though I can spike it up even more. Usually bad things happen when I'm around." He gave the regular spiel. It was the shortest h could get it without glossing over important details.

"Bad luck... people say black cats bring that. If you can't control it, don't apologize. It's not worth it to blame yourself for something you can't control."

Qrow immediately recognized those words. His sister, his brother-in-law and Summer had all said those exact lines.

Fate's decisions are not your fault.

Don't blame yourself for being born with a Semblance.

Don't apologise for something out of your control.

He had heard them enough times. Logically, he knew they were correct. On a deeper level he didn't believe them. They were wrong on one point - it was his fault. It was his Semblance and his responsibility. And the best he could do was warn those around him.

"Even so, sorry for the timing."

Blake looked at him for a second, as if considering something. Then she shook her head.

"Apology accepted, then. Do you need the room?"

"Yeah, me and Rub-"

Speak of the Beowolf, and it'll break down the doors to get to you. "Hey, Uncle Qrow, hey Blake!"

"Hi Ruby." Blake waved back at Ruby's enthusiasm.

"What's up, kid?"

"Yang dragged me along on a shopping trip earlier, so what do you say to skipping stretching and going at it today?" Ruby seemed excited. Maybe she wanted to show her uncle off to Blake?

Well, why not indulge her?

"...Just this time."

"Yes! Come on!"

The fight was a good one. Ruby was motivated, even more so than usual. Probably because Blake was watching.

At least, she had sat down to watch when they began. She was gone by the time they finished. And while he was concentrated on the fight, he was surprised he didn't detect her exiting.

She was probably worried about his Semblance. Good.

The next few days it continued on like that. Whenever possible, Blake would go into another room, or avoid eye contact.

It was a familiar scene - especially once someone felt the effects of his Semblance. He was used to it. Didn't hurt any less.

Then came the actual train ride.

There it was again. His bad luck, fucking everyone over.

Then his beliefs basically went down the drain. His trust was betrayed.

And again.

Then Brunswick Estate and the cart.

Once again.

He gave up, finding solace in the one friend that wouldn't leave - and it's siblings in the bar room.

Even in his drunken state, he could notice Blake escaping from his vicinity.

'Smart girl.' She had the right idea, with how he was gonna be.

Keep away, I just bring trouble.

He was glad there were no problems on the way to Argus. He still noticed how she was keeping her distance.

'She's even more insistent in keeping away than most.' It's why he was noticing. Most others didn't put this much effort into avoiding him.

He knew the lack of bad luck wouldn't last. But he was glad for it's lack while it lasted.

Then Oscar disappeared. He couldn't give a shit. He would sooner or later be Ozpin anyways, and Ozpin betrayed him. He was as good as gone to Qrow.

He felt the glares. He knew which was from Ruby, which was from Yang. The cold one was likely likely Schnee the Third.

He also felt feline eyes on him. He'd gotten used to it. She usually stared as she exited. Anger there was different.

Well, fuck it. Still angry at him, big deal in what way.

He didn't want to be in the house. Bar was nearby. Cheap. Did the trick.

Next he woke up, he was being hauled up the stairs. Probably didn't make it inside.

Fuck this headache. Fuck hangovers.

Another set of glares. They were the same as earlier. No, wait, one was now pity- and then it was gone. Kitty seemed disinterested this time.

Oscar was back. Guess the bar was a good idea, kept his bad luck away. He should consider leavin- no, Ruby still needed him. They all needed an adult. Ozpin was useless. The Cotta-Arcs weren't huntresses.

"We... steal an Atlas Bullhead?"

Qrow did not like that idea.

Too much risk.

And he'd be too close.

But they decided upon it. That was the chosen plan.

Gods, Ruby seemed so grown-up. When did she manage it? Was what he told her about the milk helping her grow true in more ways than one?

Whatever it was, she was now an adult. Or at least, about as mature as one could get.

'She'll not need me anymore.'

Just this last effort. He could help her one last tim-

He shouldn't have. He should've disappeared as soon as possible. Now even Blake was caught by his bad luck.

FUCKING AGAI-

...

"...When did you grow up so good?"

"I had a great mentor."

He had to get himself up. He made this mess. He was gonna help fix it.

Blake and Yang were back. Thank the twins.

They were allowed passage. His Semblance was taking a break.

So Blake and Yang ran into Adam Taurus. He'd been after them from the beginning. He didn't notice him.

'Gods, I'm really useless. I need to cut the drinks.'

His bad luck had gone into overdrive. Just for Blake. She lost her weapon. She was put through her whole past. Almost watched Yang get killed.

Gods, she had taken a life. He had really fucked her up with his bad luck.

And she seemed to realise it. She stood the farthest she could from him in the small space of the Bullhead.

Then they got caught in Mantle.

For fuck's sake, I did it again-

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

It started soon after the whole group had finished in Haven.

Blake was going through her training routine. She was dealing with it well. The recent victories left her feeling calm.

She finally dealt with Adam. He wouldn't bother her anymore. Not for a long while at least.

She heard footsteps. Someone probably wanted to use the training equipment.

She was at the end anyways. Just the last beam-

She yelped as it separated into two under her. She fell on her bottom, but she was practically untouched. Maybe aside from her pride.

"You okay, kid?"

She froze up, then relaxed. Same words. Different person. She recognized Qrow's voice.

"Y-eah, I'm fine. Glad I don't have a tail as a Faunus feature." She mentally slapped herself. She didn't relax fast enough. Play it off as embarrassment-

"Sorry about that, my Semblance acts up at the worst times."

Her ears perked up. What was his Semblance again?

"Your... Semblance?"

He looked a bit surprised she didn't know. Was it common knowledge? He was a famous Huntsman. Maybe it was? She didn't follow on the gossip of famous Huntsmen.

"My Semblance causes bad luck to happen around me. It activates on its own, though I can spike it up even more. Usually bad things happen when I'm around." The explanation sounded trained. He likely explained it often.

"Bad luck... people say black cats bring that. If you can't control it, don't apologize. It's not worth it to blame yourself for something you can't control." She recited one of the many stereotypes she was given. Then she recited what she told herself.

His actions are not your fault.

Don't blame yourself for not stopping him.

Don't apologise for Adam.

She had said them enough times. Logically, she knew they were correct. On a deeper level she didn't believe them. They were wrong on one point - it was her responsibility. She knew what he was like, but she helped him. She didn't stop him. She wasn't strong enough to defeat him. And the best she could do now was warn those around her of what he was capable of.

"Even so, sorry for the timing."

Blake looked at the older man again. The earlier impression of Adam faded more. Adam never apologised. Qrow was looking for a way to blame himself.

"Apology accepted, then. Do you need the room?"

"Yeah, me and Ruby-"

Speak of the Beowolf and it'll break your door down. "Hey, Uncle Qrow! Hey Blake!"

"Hi Ruby." Blake waved back at Ruby's enthusiasm.

"What's up, kid?"

"Yang dragged me along on a shopping trip earlier, so what do you say to skipping stretching and going at it today?" Ruby seemed excited. Maybe she wanted to show her uncle off to Blake?

Well, she probably had a lot to show off.

"...Just this once."

"Yes! Come on!"

The fight left her shaken.

Qrow fought like Adam. They were too similar. The image faded back more clearly over him. She left soon after. Once she saw the Aura strike, it was too much for her.

Whenever she looked at Qrow after that, it was Adam she saw. Sometimes she didn't need to look at the veteran Huntsman to see Adam. Between the train carts, he faded into existence for a second. He looked different. He didn't wear his mask.

'That's my ribbon.'

Then she saw him outside the shed at Brunswick Farm.

'He's not there.'

Then Qrow started drinking. She couldn't remember ever seeing Adam drink. She could remember him grinning weirdly despite the state of some gruesome situations.

She continued avoiding Qrow and not looking at him.

Once they could move, she tried not too look at Qrow.

Then Oscar disappeared and everyone got worried. Qrow didn't care. She saw Adam again. He didn't care about the White Fang.

She saw him again later, asleep on the stairs. She couldn't see Adam in that state. She only felt pity. Recent events resurfaced the image over Qrow again. She looked away.

Then Oscar was back. She momentarily forgot about the veteran Huntsman.

"We... steal an Atlas Bullhead...?"

Blake thought she was hallucinating again.

Qrow argued. She looked at him again. She saw Adam, arguing over logistics.

They chose that plan.

Qrow looked at Ruby. Blake recognised the look as the one her father gave her many times back at Menagerie. A look of "She's grown so much".

The image of Adam paled out just a little bit.

Then it became all too real at the comm tower.

He's after me and the others. He'll destroy everything I love.

Then she felt her blade sink into his heart.

She killed him. It was over. He wasn't going to threaten her again.

The others were safe.

They were allowed passage.

Relief washed over her like a hot shower.

She still kept her distance from Qrow. She could still see, hear, smell, feel Adam over him. She had just killed him, and yet he was still influencing her.

Mantle gave her other worries. She remembered she was still a Faunus.

It's not my fault-

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

Qrow couldn't quite believe their current situation. Working with the AceOps in an old Dust mine. Great.

Wonder how long till my Semblnace makes it all collapse-

Not long enough. Sentries caused a collapse.

Fucking again-

"This is my fault. Me and my stupid Semblance. Again."

Ruby and the others were alright. On the other side of a collapsed tunnel.

He was stuck with Blake. The girl so unnerved by his bad luck Semblance she made sure to avoid him whenever she could.

She was doomed, and it was all his fault.

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

Blake couldn't comprehend the situation. Working with the AceOps in an old Dust mine. She could feel the negativity of the Faunus workers. She hoped the Grimm would be too occupied with the old negativity to feel her ow-

Then she saw a tail. A cut off one.

Another victim-

Her negative emotions beat the ones in the mines. Sentries caused a collapse.

"No, it's mine. If I had kept my emotions in check-"

I was too weak again-

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

"What are ya talking about? There's no way you can cause enough negativity to beat that of these caves."

Me and my damn Semblance-

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

"You're Semblance isn't to blame for everything bad that happens, it's my incompetence that attracted the Grimm to us."

If I was only stronger-

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

"Your "incompetence" boils down to you caring about people you've literally met only partially-

Bad choice of words-

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

"...Was that an attempt at a pun? Yang would punch you for that one."

Joking at a time like this, what was she doing-

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

"A friendly punch to the arm, probably. She loves those. Should've been a better a better uncle."

But I'm doing my best by being away with small visits, they're safer that way-

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

"She did. Haven't heard her make one since she lost her arm."

She lost it because of me-

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

"Nah, she was not too serious before you came back. She arm wrestled with it and joked around about "vibration functions"."

She grew up fine-

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

"...Heh. Wouldn't be surprised if she added suck a thing. She always looked for a way to make me laugh."

I'm always in a bad mood-

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

"She's lucky to have someone as caring as you as a partner. Good thing my Semblance didn't affect her there."

Definitely didn't help her at the Fall-

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

"No, she isn't. She deserves someone stronger. She's lucky to have such a nice uncle, not a partner like me."

I'm just dead weight half the time-

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

"I'm a bad luck charm. She'd be luckier without me-"

"There it is again!"

"What?"

"You're blaming your Semblance for everything bad in the universe! Would she really be luckier without you when she went out to search for her mother?"

"...So she told you that story? She was only six then, so I was practically forced to watch over her. Now, though? She's better off without me. Maybe she'll keep all her limbs by the end of this. Woth you by her side it's practically guaranteed. She trusts you a lot."

"...She shouldn't. I've always let people down. Running away was just one way I did so. I had one job - don't attract the Grimm. Should've been easy here, and I still managed to fail at it. I'm just gonna get us all killed-"

"If you're this worried about it you're already well on your way to never do it. Unlike me. The only way they'll all be safe is without me around-"

"Now you're just saying what I was thinking when I ran after the Fall of Beacon. Let me tell you what I learned in that time - these people care about you. Disappearing will only hurt them further. They'll be in danger anyways with their career choice, so you got to be there for them to help protect them."

Qrow watched her for a few seconds.

Then he gave a small smile and looked away.

"You say that, but you don't believe it."

"I do-"

"The way you've been avoiding me ever since I told you my Semblance speaks otherwise."

Blake quieted down.

"I know you're trying to make me feel better. But you're avoiding me, keeping away so you're not hit by my Semblance. But you did get hit. You're ex decided to attack you. So long as I'm around, this is just gonna keep happening. What's next? Your ears get cut of-"

"STOP IT!"

Qrow was rarely yelled at. It was a good method to shit him up.

"What Adam did was his choice. His intent. It has nothing to do with your Semblance! And I'm not avoiding you-"

"You're not exactly sneaky enough. I could feel you staring. You were always watching my movements if you had to stay in the same room. How is that not avoiding me?"

"...Your Semblance isn't why I was avoiding you. You reminded me too much of him."

Qrow took a few seconds to realize who she was talking.

"...I've been called many things, but that's a first. How exactly am I Adam Taurus?"

"...It was your fighting style at first. He used the same spins, a similar shooting pose, you have a similar build, a similar hairstyle. Your grin when you're drunk is the same one he had when he was fighting."

"...Fair enough. Didn't expect to add "look like an abusive ex" to the long list of reasons to disappear, but it's a good one-"

"...What?"

"I'm a danger to my nieces. I'm in no good relations with Miss Schnee the Second, and according to Yang, my drinking habits are like Missus Schnee so I'm winning no points with Weiss. Jaune has never liked me, probably has his reasons, and his teammates follow after him with almost no question so they're wary of me as well. I can't look at Oscar without seeing Ozpin, and I don't want anything to do with that old bastard anymore. The Grimm Reaper might be the only person capable of living with my bullshit, but she's the minority. And now I'm over here looking like the person who singlehandedly fucked your perception of the world and yourself. All in all, compelling arguments for a Grimm to take me right now."

Blake was speechless. He had an excuse to leave everyone behind. Always for their own good.

"...I said I saw a resemblance at first."

His hair lost any indication of red, showing his feather-like 'do.

"But the more time passed, the more differences I saw. You're nothing like Adam."

Eyes went from blueish to a bright pastel pink, and the shadow of a scar disappeared.

"You're careful, consider others safety before your own and care for those close to you. Adam always put himself and his goals first."

The soft facial features were replaced with more rugged lines, clean-shaven skin replaced with a stubble.

"You do everything you do because you believed it would save people, even when that left you apart from your family for months. Adam only pretended to care about the Faunus' well-being, while he really only cared about killing off humans."

Black clothes were replaced by white and grey, slim body frame replaced by broad shoulders.

"You take the blame for everything and are ready to take what you believe would be your just desserts. Adam never apologised for anything he did and always ran from responcibility."

Qrow kept looking at Blake, somehow compelled to let her finish her spiel. Let it all out.

"I used to see some of Adam's looks in you. Now I see an uncle concerned first and foremost with his nieces' well-being. I saw Adam's animalistic fighting style, but I've come to see a beautiful dance in how you wield your blade. Where Adam killed for pleasure, you protect those you care about. Where Adam was nothing but spite, you never let your past break you. Where Adam took strength from others kneeling, you take strength from others standing tall."

Now Qrow was just looking at her with wide eyes. Very few have tried and succeeded in making him see his good sides. None had used (good) comparisons.

"Adam manipulated people into doing his bidding. You do the right thing, and people sincerely like you exactly for that. People love you exactly for that."

[simplerthingslikewatchinglt]

Chapter Thirteen

Larry's P.O.V

I decided to go see my bro, Laurent since he had texted me about an hour ago but I was too busy with Adelia. She wanted more 'us' time which didn't seem to make sense - we did that enough. Leaving Adelia in my room after putting her to bed - I was alone when I arrived at Laurent's hotel room door having a spare key card, I invited myself in. I figured why not do so being that he was single and hardly had any guests other than me . Before fully opening the door I could hear my brothers voice speak the words "uh oh" and then there they were. More like there she was, Kiera, sitting on the bed looking a mess while Laurent stood only a few feet away from the bed with his phone in his hand. I walked further into the room closing the door behind me, there was a weird silence in the room before Laurent finally decided to speak first - " Larry, my bro play UNO with us" . I was confused and only wanted to speak to Laurent in French not wanting Kiera to know what I say, so that's what I did .

"Laurent pourquoi est-elle ici? ( Laurent why is she here ? )" I questioned, my face must've read irritated because Laurent smirked and then proceeded to answer my question using English. " She's here because I want her here baby bro" he kept his smirked planted on his face knowing how much he got under my skin when he did not speak French back to me . I continued in French anyway , " ça ressemble à im jouer frère? maintenant dis-moi" ( Do it look like I'm playing brother ? Now tell me ) I demanded from Laurent, curious as to why she was in his room . " Chill out bro... UNO we play, nothing happen. I call room service - they come soon" he smiled brightly at me while throwing his hands in the air trying to play innoncent like a child but he was just as grown as I was. Shortly after another pause into silence there was a knock at the door, my guess was room service and sure enough it was . I let my eyes follow my brother as he walked towards the front door opening it slightly before throwing the door fully open. I broke my stare from Laurent to Kiera who sat in silence, I wondered what went through her mind as she watched my brother and I argument . She probably felt awkward; her eyes were focused on the carpeted floor as if in a trance she just stared at the floor . I took this into an advantage letting my vision roam freely, I scanned down her body. In overall view from head to toe she was no Adelia for sure, Kiera didn't give me that sex appeal like Adelia did . Slowly my eyes roamed down her cute plain face to her torso where I noticed something just above her collarbone, right on her neck. I thought my vision was playing tricks on me so I decided to walk a bit closer to the bed, taking a seat on the night stand , I stared at her some more before my mess of a brother came throwing his arm around my neck. " Elle est bizarre, n'est-ce pas?" (She's a weird one isn't she?) , he had finally spoken in our mothers tongue knowing I wouldn't respond back , it was like night and day with us sometimes. What ever that was on Kiera neck irritated me for a reason I couldn't explain. Maybe it was the fact I was too over protective of my brother and didn't want him messing around with these American girls or maybe it was Kiera herself, she seemed so distant from this world and so innnoncent that I didn't want my brother using her with his player ways .

For a few seconds it was like everybody had been frozen in time, Kiera sat on Laurent's bed staring into space , I sat on the nightstand staring at her and Laurent had his arm around my neck leaning on me until I broke this frozen moment and spoke " et le suçon sur son cou?" ( And the hickey on her neck?) I directed my question to Laurent, finally breaking my stare down at Kiera looking at him in his eyes. "It's just a game bro. Right Kiki?" Kiera looked up at us and I was able to see the hickey more clearly now.

"Yeah we were playing UNO, Laurent wanted to add in a few rules" she spoke , her voice a sounding a bit nervous . "Why you sound like that ?" I questioned her and for a split second she looked confused before she finally realized what I meant . " It's nothing." She answered, "Larry stop asking my girlfriend so many questions" Girlfriend ? - Laurent released his hold from around me and walked towards Kiera, hovering over her. He opened his mouth to speak " did you open up your gift once you got home ?" 

"My gift ?"

" Yes the Victoria secret bag"

Kiera took a glance at me then back to Laurent , looking up at him as he hovered over her still. She must've realized what he was talking about when she shook her head 'no' to my brother.

"Is okay Kiki , open it when you get home okay?" He said with a genuine smile .

"Okay Laurent ..." Kiera half heartedly smiles back at him, the two of them leaving me out of the loop . What gift ? I wondered, but not for too long when he kneels down at her, "Laurent, what you doing bro ?" I was uneasy with him kneeling in front of her, he ignored me while I watched. " Kiki, can I ask you something ?" He was eye level with her, staring straight into her eyes while Kiera looked flustered a bit. " Okay" was her response , so he continued , " Will you be my" I had to cut him off short of asking her to be his girlfriend forreal . " Laurent!" I shouted , which forced his head to turn in my direction, our eyes meeting. " Bro is to be our friend...." friend? " huh ?" I was confuse, and maybe so was Kiera.

" Yes we don't know that many people in NYC so why not be our friend Kiki ?"

Laurent was anxious, he wanted this girl to be wrapped around his finger, he wanted this girl to himself in a way . Claiming her ever since that day and dragging it out for this long but I was the one that had her phone, the one that helped her off the floor when she fall. I can't help this feeling that Laurent and me are mentally battling for her and he's winning . I don't care for her but Laurent should respect my credit, if it wasn't for me she wpuld not be with us and he would not be so interested in her . I was beginning to get wrapped in my own thoughts, thinking why did Laurent have such a great interest in her ? Why was she so interesting to him ? I had to admit at first she was interesting to me in the beginning but there was nothing in her phone to see. So I left it like that.

My attention was brought back to the two of them, Laurent still on his knees and Kiera with this awkward ass silence coming from her . The silence from her was killing me even though I didn't show it on my face being a blank expression, I also didn't care what her answer would be.

"Okay..." I wasn't shocked by her answer, I could care less , she wasn't my friend she was now Laurent's "plaything" . We were starting to blow and become famous, we didn't need friends, our "friends" back home were there and they were even starting to drift from us . I took notice of Kiera's shyness and awkwardness , " Okay good, your our friend so as a friend I have to tell you quit smoking cigarettes Kiki" Laurent chuckled before continuing, " the cheap perfume can't hide the smell"

"Laurent !" I needed to check him in place, even though he was right about the smell but she was still a woman and that was too rude.

"What bro ? She's our friend ..."

"You friend.." I corrected him.

" noooo, we can share juste pas au lit (just not in bed) he quickly switched from English to French on me . I realized what he meant and it was funny in our younger days we did that a lot.

" you mean anymore..." I chuckled this time. Laurent quickly  rolled his eyes at me, " Larry, she's not like that" . What Laurent said caught her attention quick.

"Huh ? ... like what ?" She questioned, her confusion was plastered all over her face. Laurent pinched the bridge of his nose then sighed out of irritation because of me which made me laugh a little, finally getting under his skin . He rolled his eyes once more before taking Kiera hands into his own, he sighed again as if he really didn't want to answer her question but he spoke anyway .

"Ever had a threesome Kiki ?"

Authors notes:

OKAYYYYY and imma stop here! One cause I'm tired. Got work in the am guys . Tell me if you want this to be a Larry fix, Laurent fix, or Twins fic. I can't decide right now . Leave some comments for me . I'm trying with the action guys sorry if your bored ! I'll continue to write though! <3 bye!

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Collection} A Haunted Haus : Day Two & Three

That is a mask...right?

Day Three, Start.

The past 48 hours haven’t exactly been “business as usual” for the Stone Spider Family.

Atamu hadn’t figured life would be all sunshine and roses every day since the Merger almost three years ago, but the Patriarch hadn’t ever anticipated anything quite like this. His displeasure in the recent, strange goings-on under his roof was clear on his dark, weathered face as he sat with his massive arms folded across his broad barrel of a chest. His long dreads were secured back in a thick braid that reached his waist, an impressive feat for a man over eight feet tall--it was a task he’d asked His little to perform, something Monica was quite skilled at by this point and had done so without hesitation. Atamu wanted his hair out of his face so he wouldn’t have to think about it or push at the long, thick twists of soft hair as the day’s events continued on around him. And while he normally reveled in the time Monica spent playing in his dreads, enjoying the way her small fingers felt beneath the lovingly secured strands, today it had been more for business than pleasure. There were events going on at the Haus that required the old Chieftain’s full attention and he didn’t want to miss a single detail.

Helen’s office was currently holding several select, key members of the immediate Family--the Reaver herself was behind her desk, with Thomas standing in front of it. Atamu was seated in a high-backed chair facing the desk, with Monica safely in his lap--she wasn’t allowed down, much less out of the Patriarch’s sight.

Not after what had happened yesterday.

And while normally Monica might chafe under strict restraints on being told what to do...after what happened she wasn’t too keen on being out of Atamu’s embrace at all, much less where he couldn’t see her.

Luvon Dreadful was the newest addition to the room, the Alpha standing beside his Father and lifemate. The werewolf had his arms folded much like his Father, his large, heavily muscled body blocking Monica from the door and providing a second wall of protection for the young vampire. If Atamu hadn’t been overprotective enough to keep Monica at his side, Luvon would have done it. The overprotective Alpha did not play around when it came to Monica’s safety and well-being and anyone who looked at him now would only notice his tightly locked square jaw and the way his orange eyes glowed almost ferally. There was a dormant volcano of rage smoldering dangerously close to Luvon’s surface. All he needed was a target to unleash it on--but that was part of the problem. No one was quite sure what happened yesterday, and that was the cause of the current meeting.

“Would you like some tea, sweetheart?” Thomas straightened up from leaning against Helen’s desk, his gentlemanly smile aimed at Monica. “I would be happy to make you some, or perhaps a snack?”

“You need to be here for the recording, Thomas, you cannot be off making her tea. That’s why we have staff,” Helen’s sharp tone was back in full force, sounding like a whip of censure, though Thomas was used to her by now and didn’t react as if scolded. His smile didn’t even falter.

“I’d happily do it if she’d like me to.”

Helen didn’t doubt that for a split second.

“That’s okay, Thom.” Monica offered the Detective a small but genuine smile, showing she meant the gratitude.

“How about a blanket?”

Monica shook her head, leaning a little closer to Atamu, who reacted immediately by tightening his arm around her. “Poppy’s really warm!”

“Oh, of course he is,” Thomas’s smile deepened, before he tried again. “Perhaps a stuffed animal?”

“Thomas for god’s sake would you stop fussing over her? She’s fine.” Helen gave the man a look of heavy disapproval, and this time he had to sense to clear his throat and fold his hands against his trim middle, his earth-toned vest-coat a perfect compliment to the paleness of his skin and hair.

“Right, of course, so sorry.” His apology sounded even more sincere in his British accent. “I’m afraid I’m a little...out of sorts.”

“Why?” Luvon bit out gruffly. “Nothing happened to you.”

Monica looked up at Luvon in surprise at the line that might have been misinterpreted as hostility, but Thomas either was so used to Helen’s way of speaking he didn’t rise to the challenge...or he was simply too non-confrontational and understood Luvon was reacting as a lifemate should. Thomas simply answered honestly, as he was one of the more emotional members of the Family and was unafraid to show it.. His chin lifted, with the truth lightening his blue eyes and his accented tenor.

“Something could have happened to Monica. I’m as upset as you are about that.”

Luvon didn’t speak, unsurprisingly, but his defensive posture relaxed. It was an acceptable answer by the Alpha’s standards.

Monica reached up for Luvon’s hand and he met her halfway, lacing his fingers through hers with a grip like iron. In a movement that brought both of her men together, she turned her smile back to Thomas, one that he readily returned, pleased that she seemed to understand how deeply he cared for her. Feeling emboldened by her smile, Thomas moved to press a kiss to her forehead, and a little of the tension seeped out of the office.

“Are we all ready to review the recording?” Helen glanced first at Monica, then Atamu, then lastly at Luvon as Thomas returned to leaning against her desk.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer; Monica didn’t necessarily want to relive yesterday’s experience, Atamu didn’t want to put her through it again, and Luvon was still grappling with a lifemate’s raging need to protect his mate and being unable to do so. But all three knew there would be no moving forward without reviewing what happened, and when Luvon squeezed her hand reassuringly and Atamu’s lips found her temple, Monica felt strong enough to nod from her safe place between them.

“Yes! Let’s do it,” Monica nodded, and was rewarded by one of Helen’s rare, proud smiles. Monica seemed to be the only one to ever receive them, though that wouldn’t surprise a single member of the Haus to learn.

“Rollback the recording, JARVIS.”

Day Two, Recording Start

It was a fair assumption on Wade Wilson’s part (for once in his insane life) that Usopp had never been to a Halloween store, before. And that was why it was his duty, as Usopp’s newest bestest friend in the whole wide world, to take the sniper captain shopping for more costumes than there are days in a calendar year!

It was also a fair assumption that Wade Wilson often lost the rights to his Family credit card for doing things like buying 500+ Halloween costumes.

“Is this...how we’re supposed to celebrate?” Usopp asked, watching Staff member after Staff member bring in armfuls of shopping bags. The Staff had tried to arrange the bags in some semblance of order but Wade had quickly upended the entire system, because as soon as a servant set a bag down he was rifling through it like a kid on his birthday, flinging costumes over his shoulder with wild abandon. “All these costumes?”

“One for every day of the year!” Wade cheered incorrectly, arms lifted over his head.

Usopp was left staring and wondering how Wade had managed to pull a long blond wig on over his masked face in the split second it took him to straighten up.

The recreation room of the Haus (one of many, actually) was quickly covered in fabrics and masks, novelty weapons and other assortment of accessories for the many, many costumes that lay strewn about. It was no coincidence that the majority of the costumes were couples’ costumes, or “Bestie Suits” as Wade kept referring to them to Usopp in the store. There was no denying the Merc with the ever-running Mouth was thrilled to have a friendship with Usopp and true to his clingy nature, wanted to do everything with his new friend. In his twisted, often incorrect mind, somehow he was going to figure out a way to do a couple’s costume with Monica, Usopp, Peter Parker, Dick Grayson, Nathan Summers, Logan Howlett, Bruce Wayne, Bruce Banner (just to piss Hulk off) and Oliver Queen (to piss off Clint Barton because the hawk-eyed assassin ate his leftovers). He didn’t know how he was going to do this, just that he was, and like everything in Wade’s life, somehow this would work out.

Or it wouldn’t.

He didn’t know.

“Soooo...” Usopp watched with his hands on his waist as Wade upended another bag onto the floor. “How do we decide what to dress up as?”

“Well~” Wade’s strangely pitched voice was all aflutter with excitement. “Tomorrow is one of the costume parties being held this month and I’m pretty sure there’s no contest because we’re all supposed to love one another and just have fun, but if I insult enough people’s costumes by saying ours is better then we can get one started and win!”

Usopp didn’t think that sounded right but was quickly learning arguing with Wade was a dangerous game--because you either got sucked into an argument that lasted six hours because Wade liked to talk, or he’d kiss you to shut you up. Usopp was still deciding which of those was the lesser of two evils.

“So we just need to dress up as something really fuckin’ kick-ass so we can win!”

Usopp’s brow pulled together in the center. “...Win the contest that isn’t happening?”

“Oh it’s happening, good buddy.” Wade straightened up, holding up an incredibly stereotypical pirate captain costume, complete with a hat emblazened with a cheap skull and bones across the front. “Would Luffy be mad at me if you were captain for a day?”

“At you?” Usopp asked, confusion clear on his tanned face. He was still learning everything circled back to Wade eventually...even if it shouldn’t.

“Yeah! I mean, he can be mad at you but I’m a sensitive boy. I have all these emotions. Feelings. Mostly in my junk but that’s where they come from.”

Usopp’s face was blank and Wade didn’t even miss a beat.

“See because my thought is, if you’re the pirate captain, then I can be the parrot...sitting on your shoulder for the whole night. And I can just say really raunchy things and no one can be mad at us because I’m just a bird, the fuck do I know?”

That cracked Usopp’s resolve, imagining Wade in a giant bird suit. He was tempted to say yes just for that.

“Oooo!” Wade’s squeal indicated his wandering eye had caught something else and he tossed the first costume to the side, picking up two costumes to hold up side by side, peering around them to grin at Usopp. “How about Peanut Butter and Jelly!”

Given the years he’s now lived at the Haus, Usopp recognized the food items and the oversized jar costumes Wade was holding up were definitely...something. The hands were connected, sewn together actually, so whoever was wearing the costume would have to hold hands the entire night.

“That’s...uh, if you want!” Usopp was too kind to shoot Wade down, which was partially why they’d been gone the entire afternoon and also why they’d run up a bill with more zeros than Usopp wanted to remember. It more resembled a bounty than a price to be paid.

Wade dropped the costumes before making a heart with his hands and sending it in Usopp’s direction. “This is why you’re one of my besties. You just get it, Usopp.”

“Get what?”

“Everything.” Wade stated, dramatic and somewhat breathlessly. “You get everything.”

If Usopp thought shopping with Wade was an ordeal, that turned out to be only half-truth--now that they were home, they had the monumental task of sorting through the haul to find what they wanted to wear.

“Gorilla and his really big banana?”

A pause before Usopp ventured, “that sounds kinda...lewd.”

“Oh! So Franky would do it.”

Usopp didn’t know if Wade wanted Franky to be the gorilla or the banana and he wasn’t going to ask.

“Okay so we’re not getting anywhere and since you won’t let me take your pants off--”

“You never told me why you needed to take my pants off?!”

“I need a reason to take your pants off?” Wade asked, blinking beneath his lifted mask. Usopp could easily read the confusion in the scarred half of Wade’s face he could clearly see.

“I’m starting to see why Nami hits Brook so much.”

“I thought Nami was going to hit me once but it turned out Sanji kicked me in my face before she could, which was just as good.” Wade quipped, but his attention was on one of his many pouches on his belt that he was rifling through.

“Why did Sanji kick you?”

“I think it’s because I was saying something about Monica sitting on my face--”

“HAHA WOW, YES, MHM, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR IN YOUR SUIT?!”

Wade paused in his search, slowly looking up at Usopp’s panicked expression. His visible grin was nothing short of wicked.

“Does Monica sit on your face, Usopp? I bet that nose is her favorite part--”

Shutting Wade Wilson up was a monumentally difficult feat to accomplish, something Usopp had learned recently, but had been told that food helps. Wade’ll still talk with his mouth full, but it might help distract him from his train of though--so Usopp started carrying around an extra stash of candy in his own pouches and pockets, aside from the stash Monica kept on him. Acting quickly, face red with the ideas Wade was putting in his head, Usopp plucked up a piece of candy and expertly tossed it into the Merc’s running mouth.

“S-So what are y-you looking for?” Usopp took control of the conversation in the split second Wade closed his mouth around the candy, nearly exhaling with relief when Wade’s multi-tracked mind switched lanes.

“My phone, I wanna text Monica.”

Trying to ignore the way his heart skipped at the mention of her name, especially so soon after the recent topic of conversation, Usopp cleared his throat.

“Why?”

“Oh, well she’s the smartest person I know--I mean Tony Stark likes to say he is, and he’s not the only one who says it either, but even he doesn’t argue when I say it’s Monica, so I think that’s the consensus.” Wade switched pouches for the fourth time. “Fucking thing’s gotta be here somewhere...anyway I wanna text Monica and have her come help us pick a costume!”

Usopp couldn’t argue with that, Monica was the smartest person he knew, too--well, she was a lot of things. Smartest, funniest, prettiest...even now, he was smiling wide enough to show teeth at the thought of Monica coming by, even if there wasn’t a reason for it. For as long as he’s known her (and he was very proud of the years!) he’s been head over heels in love with her and to feel it only grow as time passed wasn’t something he’d been prepared for. So much of his young life had been about action and adventure, a lot of the emotional journeys he’d taken had somewhat been overshadowed--but Monica brought them to the surface. He’s loved and lost--not always necessarily people, either--and that taught him that holding onto love so you don’t lose it is very, very important. Usopp was considered a lot of things by a lot of people, but the only opinion that really mattered to him was Monica’s. Yes, his captain and crew, but it was different when Monica talked to him, about him, told him things that no one else ever had before. Love becomes as necessary to one as air when they’ve had it for a while and now Usopp couldn’t imagine loving anyone more. It was a sentiment echoed by his entire crew and she became the central, uniting force behind the Straw Hats. Nothing and no one else would ever be more beloved or important to them.

Wade could definitely relate to his new bestie’s feelings; Monica was the love of his life and had been since the first moment he saw her. He’d fallen and fallen hard, not even bothering to get back up. He didn’t want to. She was smart, beautiful, funny as hell, sexy enough to make his suit uncomfortable 24-fucking-7, witty enough to put anyone to shame--she was a knock-out in every sense of the word. The Merc knew he wasn’t anything to look at and he knew Monica liked pretty things, pretty people; he didn’t know how he’d managed to slip under her radar but now that he was here, he wasn’t going to leave. Much like the fact that he couldn’t die, Wade couldn’t live with Monica. Plain and simple, end of story. That fierce love and his tendency to hyper-fixate made for one needy combination that Monica had to deal with--the fact that he was in near constant contact with her was one result but she was always so sweet to respond to his many, many text messages, to send him pictures when he asks for them, and to even pick up when he calls needing to hear her voice. Wade wasn’t dumb or oblivious enough to think he deserved her, he knew he didn’t but had decided, fuck the universe. He’d been dealt a real shit sandwich for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for years and years, so now that he had something good, someone who loved him and took care of him, why shouldn’t he get to have her?

Monica was never really ready for the love every member of the Haus had for her, but that didn’t stop her from being bombarded with it at any given hour of the day. The matching, exuberant expressions on Wade and Usopp’s faces should have scared her--just how much time had they been spending together?--but she could hardly find one single thing to focus on amidst the insanity she’d walked into. From what she could tell, Wade and Usopp had bought an entire costume outlet and then thrown every single costume onto the floor and were now standing in the aftermath, waiting for her.

“Monica~ Sweet angel girl. You came for us!”

Monica laughed at Wade’s loving coo, missing the way Usopp’s smile widened at the sound. “You make it sound like you got kidnapped. What is all this?”

“Costumes! Usopp and I went shopping.”

“Yeah you definitely went shopping,” Monica’s eyes lingered on a giant grape costume whose grapes were at least the size of human heads. “Are these for the whole Haus?”

“Noooo, the whole Haus can suck it.” Wade slung one heavily muscled arm around Usopp’s shoulders. “These are just for Usopp and me. But don’t worry!” Wade held out his other arm, giving his eyebrows an enticing wiggle in the hopes Monica would move beneath the hollow of his shoulder. “I bought you and me a whole room to go through later~”

“...A whole...room?” Monica couldn’t resist the offer for affection, slowly side-stepping costumes as best she could to move into Wade’s embrace.

“Yep! They’re mostly lingerie, mostly for you but I did buy myself a few things I thought you might like to see me in. My juicily scarred ass looks pretty good in lace, I’ve been told...by myself.”

Monica immediately turned to Usopp, avoiding that topic of conversation. “S-So, you and Wade are going to dress-up together?”

Usopp’s smile was boyish and loving as he nodded down at her. “We need your help, though! We don’t know which ones to wear for the party tomorrow.”

Wade was nuzzling into Monica’s hair, sniffing with keening little noises. “And since you’re so smart...and pretty...and smell like fucking heaven...”

Usopp gave Wade a look when Wade didn’t even bother finishing his sentence, far too wrapped up in being affectionate with Monica, who was grateful for her inability to blush at this particular moment.

“...We thought you’d be perfect to help.” Usopp finished for Wade, his smile returning full-force when Monica met his gaze.

“I’d love to help!” Monica nodded, smiling just because Usopp was. He looked so happy!

And so, the hunt for the perfect bestie costume began, re-energized by Monica’s presence. The trio sifted through the insane costume pile side by side by side; neither man moved too far away from her, wanting to be near and enjoy her presence. Wade’s openly affectionate ways were rubbing off on Usopp, who, on more than one occasion, was brave enough to give Monica’s hand a squeeze or even lean down to kiss her cheek or forehead, when he was so overcome with happiness at her participating that he couldn’t help himself! It felt good, doing this with her; it was good for both of them, Wade now so relaxed his mask was entirely off his face and Usopp feeling confident enough to express himself to the woman he loved.

The banter between the three was natural and flowed as if they’d always been, just like this.

“AAAA?!” Usopp reeled back with a surprised peal of laughter. “Wade! Take off that mask! ...That is a mask, right?”

Monica was nearly doubled over at the giant baby mask Wade had on, because it looked so ridiculous on his normal, man-sized body.

Wade did not help matters by beginning to talk and gesture with the mask still over his head, so his scratchy voice was coming from the baby’s pudgy face and gap-toothed cartoon smile. “I know it’s hard to tell when I have a mask on, okay, because my face looks like a melted candle in the shape of what I think Freddy Kruger’s balls probably look like--”

Usopp’s laughter was so loud it cut off Wade’s sentence and Monica all but threw herself on the Merc, because she couldn’t take his words coming out of that stupid looking mask!

Wade caught Monica effortlessly, strong arms like steel bands around her back as he took full advantage of the hug, and as soon as she pushed the mask off his face he was nuzzling against her soft skin, cooing and murmuring like one might imagine a baby would actually do.

“Mommy’s skin is so soft~”

“W-Wade you’re being silly,” Monica’s giggling turned shy, but she held onto him all the same. His words had come out like a self-deprecating joke but she knew the Merc and she knew his self-esteem was likely the worst in the Haus. So when Usopp laughed, and Monica took the mask off, it helped Wade feel a little better--because Usopp was paying him attention, and Monica wanted to see his face.

Time flies when you’re with the ones you love. Monica could hardly believe that an hour and a half had gone by and they hadn’t even made a dent in the pile of costumes the two had brought home. It left her a little concerned about how much time it would take to go through the room Wade had set up for the two of them...not to mention the tummy flip at the thought of what all would likely take place in said room supposedly filled with costumed lingerie for two. Smiling to herself, Monica picked up and then immediately tossed aside a naval sailor suit that Wade probably wanted to try and stuff Cora into. It was safer not to ask what his plans were for half of these things--

A prickle of unease had Monica’s attention snapping up, and her green eyes fell on...well she didn’t know if it was Wade or Usopp since the mask on the face made it impossible to tell. Her face broke into a smile, the unease chalked up to that feeling one gets when they’re being watched and it dissipated as quickly as it came. She hadn’t heard them approach, so it made sense she’d be a little startled. The mask itself didn’t exactly help; it was modeled after an old timey ventriloquist dummy, with the finely painted wooden features, including the slits down the side of the mouth where the dummy would “talk”. It’s eyes were brilliantly blue and inhumanly realistic looking, like doll’s eyes, and apparently came with a costume to match because the wearer was decked out in a full suit and tie. She must have been really involved in her searching to not notice Wade or Usopp pulling on a suit, but she had to commend the boys. A dummy and a ventriloquist was a pretty damn creepy costume combination--especially with the way this one looked. As she continued to stare at the mask, the mouth slowly opened but given it was a mask, couldn’t smile. They were just standing there with the mask mouth unsettlingly wide, as if frozen in a silent scream.

The prickle of unease returned.

Monica knew Wade and Usopp would never scare her on purpose, but she couldn’t make sense of what was happening, why they were just standing there. Were they expecting a different reaction? Maybe just wanting something more than her smile? ...It still wouldn’t make sense, Wade was never this quiet and to be honest now that she thought about it a bit more, Usopp would probably have to be coaxed into something this creepy, and she definitely would have heard Wade trying.

It was then that she saw Usopp pass by her peripheral, his spine bent as he traced a lengthy costume to it’s source.

That only left Wade--

“If I get my head stuck in a bag again I’m gonna be really pissed off.”

Wade was directly behind her, apparently head first in a bag.

So who...was in front of her...?

The mask’s eyes continued to bore into hers, it’s mouth open as if silently challenging her to scream, to say something, do something, but every instinct Monica had was fighting against that urge. She felt fear wrap around her silent heart like ice, and fight or flight was kicking in and fast--

And that was when it moved.

Slowly, the head inclined to one side, the arms of the suit coming up, up, then twisting, as if the elbow joints were being wrenched to the side. There were no hands coming out of the sleeves but there was definite sound like bone breaking as the arms twisted--which caught Usopp’s attention first, and he let out a bellow of surprise, all but leaping the distance between himself and Monica to push her behind him.

Some might consider Usopp a coward, but he never, ever hesitated when it came to Monica.

“What, is my ass hanging out agai--WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!” Wade’s surprised bellow was accusatory, angry that someone was scaring his babygirl and bestie. His bulky body came into Monica’s line of sight but she caught the back of his suit, keeping him from fully approaching the mask--it had fallen still again, it’s face still staring straight at the group but it’s arms were still horribly twisted.

“W-Wade, don’t,” Monica managed, her instincts screaming at her not to let him get any closer. She didn’t know why, she didn’t know what they were looking at, dealing with, but she wasn’t going to let Wade get hurt--whether he would come back from it or not.

“Look, Dummy McDumbass, you better hope like hell you’re not anyone I know because you’re going to get spanked with the sharp end of my katana for scaring my wife and bestie like this,” Wade shot out, only held in place by Monica’s hand clutching the back of his suit. He was standing directly in front of her and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t resist leaning around him just to keep an eye on their silent “companion”.

It just stared back at her with that same screaming expression.

Usopp kept Monica in his hold, just a little bit behind him, but when the mask didn’t speak, when one of their Family members didn’t yank the mask off with a laugh, he felt the first shivers of true fear race down his spine.

This wasn’t someone they knew and loved. This was something else.

Wade just got angrier, slipping his gun from his thigh holster. He didn’t like the way he could feel Monica’s fingers trembling. He didn’t like that at all.

“All right, even better. You’re a literal dumbass who broke into this Haus to die. Congrats.” Wade cocked his gun, sights perfectly positioned right at the forehead of the silent, staring mask. “Gonna say, I don’t know, fucking anything before I shut you up forever?”

The mask still didn’t speak, but it did move.

Slowly, just like with it’s arms...the head began to spin around. The trio watched as the doll’s head slowly, creaking as if made of wooden bone, turned toward the right and then kept turning. As the neck started to break, the eyes remained locked to the trio, and it wasn’t until it snapped that the mask and suit fell to the floor in an empty, crumpled heap.

There was no one there.

Monica turned away from the reality of what they’d just seen, burying her face against Usopp’s chest and was relieved when his arms closed around her, his own face buried in her hair.

“I-It’s okay, it’s okay,” Usopp comforted, his voice quiet but trying to be strong for Monica. “I’m here, W-Wade’s here, we’re okay.”

Angry and with nothing to do about it, Wade unloaded an entire clip down into the mask that had somehow fallen face up, those blue eyes staring at the trio until Wade shot them out.

But a full clip shot into the floor couldn’t erase the truth--there had never been anyone there, at all.

Day Two, Recording End.

The silence of the office was deafening.

Monica was resting her head against Atamu’s chest, absolutely dwarfed by the Patriarch and grateful for it; he was surrounding her, physically and emotionally, his strongly beating heart an anchor for her relieving the fear she’d felt in that room. A full day had passed since the incident but she still didn’t know how to feel about it except scared, but Atamu was doing his best to keep her from feeling that way. His large hand was rubbing her back, his other arm draped across her body and his bicep alone was wider than her middle; she felt safe here, knew that he wouldn’t ever let anything happen to her and she basked in that feeling, letting it wash over her to drown out the prickling uneasiness and fear. Luvon was still standing guard over her, his orange eyes hard enough to break glass, but that oppressive anger was a comfort to Monica, too. She knew her Big Brother would never let anything happen to her, either, and she knew that was why he was in here. As an Alpha and a Soldier, Luvon took a heavy hand in the security of the Haus. He trained the wolves that stalked and protected the grounds and he was one of the direct reports that any of the Staff came to with any security issues. He actively reviewed security footage from the Haus and all it’s properties, especially any that concerned Monica, and that was why he was front and center, now. He wanted to know what was being done to ensure this never happened to Monica again.

“You were so very brave, sweetheart,” Thomas finally broke the silence, his tone reflective of the sunshine title he’d carried for a long time--warm. He was offering Monica a soft, proud smile. “It wanted your fear, your screams, and you didn’t give in to it.”

Helen didn’t say anything, that wasn’t her way, but the gaze she affixed to Monica let the younger woman know she felt exactly the same way.

“Thank you,” Monica offered quietly, before laughing a little. “I-I was scared, though.”

“Anyone would be,” Atamu met her attempt to deflect the praise in stride. “But you were very brave, little one.”

As Monica turned to nuzzle closer to Atamu, Helen looked up at Luvon. “Have any of your security teams found anything? How about the wolves?”

Luvon slowly shook his head. “So far, nothing.”

It was not the answer anyone wanted to hear.

“And it isn’t a poltergeist or demonic entity?” Thomas had already asked this and truthfully, he’d know if it was. But he was nothing if not the ever hopeful optimist.

“No. I’ve been reading the Haus for the past three days and have not detected anything demonic or spiritual at all. It isn’t a ghost and it isn’t a demon.” Helen’s sharply accented voice was matter-of-fact. “What Monica and the others encountered was a smokescreen. Something else projected that at them, for the purpose of inciting terror, but that wasn’t truly it.”

There was quite a gaping hole left on the table of options when one removes a ghost or demonic entity and it was felt by all in the room.

Thomas’s blond brows knotted in thought. “What else could possibly be doing this?”

“I’m afraid it might be too early to tell.” Helen’s long fingers folded in her lap. “Some hauntings, possessions, disturbances, can take days, weeks, or even months before the source is identified. Vigilance is still our strongest defense.”

“And in the meantime?” Atamu asked, fingers massaging lightly against the roots of Monica’s hair.

“In the meantime I will continue to consult with the others knowledgeable in such matters here in the Haus, monitor incidents as they happen--we had other minor disturbances yesterday but Monica’s far out-weighed any others--and Luvon will keep me informed on anything the security teams find.”

Luvon nodded, once.

“And what about the Halloween celebrations?” Thomas turned to face Helen more fully from his perch at the edge of her desk. “The costume party tonight, should we cancel it?”

That was a fair question. Helen glanced at Monica, wondering if she even felt like celebrating--not to mention, an entire Haus with people in costume was like a breeding ground for whatever this thing was, to pull another stunt like it had with the dummy mask. But...wasn’t that letting it win? It may not be a demon, but it clearly enjoyed fear and manipulation through terror.

If the Family bows out, gives in to fear, whatever this thing is could win.

Before Helen could voice any of this, the office door swung wide open and something far more disturbing than any dummy mask came sauntering in.

“Look, Pops, I dressed up as you for the party tonight!”

It was Cavon Dreadful, dressed head to toe like his Patriarchal Father. He had on a dreaded wig full of ringing dread charms, one of Atamu’s outfits, but the true genius of Cavon’s costume? The tribal patterned apron that Atamu was known to wear; it was quite obviously too big even for the Alpha, the bottom of the apron nearly touching Cavon’s boots, but the Wolf looked absurdly pleased with himself, a wide grin on his face as he spun around in the doorway. The apron had it’s pockets full of spatulas and tongs, even one of Atamu’s cleavers and the utensils all clanked together noisily as the Alpha spun around.

Everyone was left staring, but Monica was the first to truly react, erupting in a fit of adorable little giggles that widened Cavon’s grin. Atamu was next to crack, his thunderous laughter something of a notorious sound throughout the Haus, now.

Luvon shook his head but couldn’t help his grin--but if anyone asked, it was solely because Monica found it so funny. “You look fucking ridiculous.”

“Fuck you, Fam, I make this look good,” Cavon leaned back, doing a shoulder shimmy.

Thomas had his hands over his face, shoulders shaking in silent laughter, and Helen had her eyes closed, just shaking her head.

“Unbelievable. To answer your question, Thomas, yes I believe we should cancel tonight’s event but solely because Cavon’s costume is so terrible.”

“Y’all a bunch’a haters. Gramps loved my costume.”

Luvon snorted. “Well of course he did.”

Cavon gestured. “And babygirl obviously loves it!”

“Of course she does, too, idiot. Gramps and babygirl both love Dad.” Luvon shot back.

“HATERS.” Cavon pointed at everyone except Monica before looking smug. “I’mma win the contest tonight.”

“Contest?” Helen arched a brow. “I was unaware there was a costume contest.”

“Yeah, Wilson sent out a mass text ‘bout there bein’ some sorta contest.”

Helen took a sip from her wine glass in lieu of replying, but Cavon picked up what she didn’t say.

“You still got his number blocked?”

“There’s a chain of communication that can reach me if Mr. Wilson truly needs my assistance for something.”

Monica found herself laughing. “Does he really text you?”

“Sweet girl, that man will talk to an empty room. He was sending me so many text messages, that i was not responding to by the way, that it was either block him or send him to a different dimension where he cannot harass anyone anymore.”

“I once got stuck listening to him for three hours uninterrupted because I was too polite to tell him I had work to do.” Thomas chimed in, staring far-off into the distance as if reliving the nightmare.

Cavon threw his head back, laughing. “Yeah, that fuckin’ sounds right comin’ from you.”

“Yeah, they’re in here, c’mon!”

Heads turned toward the voice from the hallway, and Helen was beginning to think she might need to move her office to another dimension to get any real work accomplished.

“Y’all, guess who dressed up as the Von Triplets for the costume party tonight!”

It was Jax and Lucca, side by side, both clearly dressed in Cavon and Luvon’s clothes. Jax was decked out in Cavon’s biker gear and Lucca was wearing Luvon’s camo, with Jax having shaved his blond hair into Cavon’s trademarked mowhawked ponytail and Lucca wearing bright orange contacts. The younger pups were surprisingly spitting images of their Alpha Big Brothers...but hilariously different at the same time; Jax had Cavon’s grin and Lucca had Luvon’s deadpanned, almost bored expression.

And it definitely incited a fresh round of laughter, leaving Cavon staring slack-jawed and Luvon actually looking impressed.

“Wait, wait,” Atamu managed, holding up one large hand. “Who one of you is Savon, then?”

Jax turned as if just noticing their third was missing, and he was scowling out of the room.

“C’mon man, you gotta come in too or it don’t work an’ we won’t win the costume contest tonight!”

Three seconds later and in came Tod, dressed up just like Savon--right down to the fake horns and tail and the long, styled black wig. The Omega looked a little more sheepish than his younger brothers and it became very obvious, very fast, that he’d been roped into this idea.

Fresh rounds of laughter shake the very room, and it was as if yesterday’s events hadn’t even happened. The fear and unease were gone, replaced by Family love and laughter, as the Haus was known to be bursting with.

Atamu turned his head down, catching Monica’s attention with a proud smile. “What do you think, little one, do you think Wade and Usopp will be making use of the Peanut Butter and Jelly costumes? Because if not, Poppy wants to wear it with you.”

Monica didn’t even care if they didn’t win the costume contest; all that mattered to her was that she was going to spend the whole night dressed up with her Daddy!

Day Three, End.

[overdrivels]

The Way to a Heart (14)

/SCREAMS LIKE A BANSHEE

IT TOOK FOUR MONTHS HOLY SHIT THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR PATIENCE

I was also starting to lose hope, but thank you, several comments (unrelated to TWtaH but was still about Hanzo) brought me back to life. Thank you, thank you.

<< Chapter 13

Tracer’s and Lúcio’s arrival brings in the morning sun and an amount of supplies that could only be bought on a superstar’s salary. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but Winston treated it as such, calling down every awake and able member on base to come down and help unload them and the overwhelming mountain of gifts from Lúcio’s adoring fans. (When Hanzo first set eyes on it, he was sure it'd topple over him and that would be his death—buried by the overwhelming show of affection for another.)

Sourly, Hanzo notes the disproportionate number of bodies present to those he knows is on base. Soldier and Tracer spend their time bickering near the pilot’s seat instead of helping—something about bringing the gifts back to Brazil immediately—and he wants nothing to do with that, spending as little time away from the ramp and ship as possible in case Soldier’s argument wins out and the Orca suddenly flies off on a ten-plus hour flight across the equator with him in it.

“Your timing couldn’t be more impeccable,” Winston says cheerfully to a passing Lúcio as he loads one of many heavy crates onto a trolley. “We just finished doing an inventory check and found that we were very short on supplies and our monetary support is temporarily unavailable and suspended indefinitely, so all of this couldn't have come at a better time.”

Lúcio gives him a curious look. “How were you guys surviving before I got here? Don’t tell me you were just starving and selling scrap.”

“No, of course not! We had funds coming in but...circumstances got in the way and, well…” Winston trails off with a heavy sigh and recovers in the next inhale with the fakest smile Hanzo has ever seen any gorilla make—not that he’s had a wealth of experience with such a thing. “Murphy's law, wouldn't you say?”

Lúcio spins on his heel mid-step and begins to walk backward to keep talking to Winston. “Can’t imagine what sort of circumstance could stop you, big guy. Whoops—!” He almost slams into a too-sleepy Mei. “Sorry!”

She mumbles something, dragging her fuzzy yeti-clad feet across the floor toward the ramp to the Orca. Hanzo feels just a little bad for her.

“The situation is very complicated,” Winston admits. “And the circumstances are less than ideal. Very complicated.”

“Oh come on, something you can’t solve? Phh-shaw. Now you’re just underselling yourself. You gotta have more confidence.”

“Well—”

“Who brought back Overwatch?”

“I did.”

“And who recalled everyone?”

With more confidence, Winston answers with his chest more inflated, “I did.”

“And who—”

“Less talking, more lifting,” Soldier: 76 barks as he emerges from cockpit, clearly annoyed.

And Soldier: 76 has just earned himself a higher spot on Hanzo’s shit list.

“Oh, come on, dad!” Tracer yells behind him, voice echoing too loudly for this hour. “Lighten up, just a bit o’ curiosity, is all!”

“Yeah, dad. We can work and talk.” Then, Lúcio nudges Winston, ignoring Soldier’s irritated huff. “You brought this operation together, you brought us together because no one can do it on their own. What is it you always say?” The man puffs out his chest and fixes a pair of imaginary glasses on his face. “‘Together, we can solve any problem.’”

And Lúcio is quickly surpassing everyone else on Hanzo’s...other list. Or rather, he’s just joining you and several few people on a list that he never knew he was putting together.

It's plain to see the gears turning in Winston's head and the spark in his eyes as those words inspire a newfound hope.

“That’s right, together, we can solve any problem.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Soldier grumbles something disagreeable beneath his mask about being a father, walking away with three boxes, hefting two over one arm and the last tucked beneath his other. With the old man out of the way, Lúcio's good mood is nothing short of infectious.

Story after story is doled out in rapid-fire succession. The world tour. The fans. His home. The orphaned children he sometimes looks after. The man so desperately wants to tell everyone he's joined Overwatch, barely restraining himself until he gets the green light from Winston interspersed with anecdotes from his days before he reached international fame, chasing after his young dreams and led forward by his frustration and powerlessness, keeping everyone in the docking area long after they've finished loading their supplies.

Lúcio, Hanzo concludes, is an excellent storyteller.

But even better at making other people talk.

“We're facing a bit of a financial crisis,” Winston finally admits.

“Financial crisis? Wasn't Overwatch loaded? Where'd all that go?” Despite the heavy-handed questions, none of them sounded particularly accusing in Lúcio's voice. Hanzo isn't sure how he does it, but mentally notes that he is still not above learning something new from someone ten years his junior.

“Well, all the accounts related to Overwatch got frozen following its disbandment. So, when we initiated the Recall, we were essentially penniless.”

“But Recall was months ago, so you had to be running somehow. How were you all getting money anyway? Second jobs? Selling scrap?”

“No, no. None of that. We had...an arrangement with someone who funneled money to us. As you know, Overwatch is currently outlawed—not that it should be—so we couldn't blatantly accept money from just anyone.”

“So did you get yourselves a sugar daddy or…?”

Winston chokes, dark skin going crimson. “N-n-no! No!” He clears his throat, attempting to compose himself. “No, absolutel—no. No.”

Hanzo thinks the gorilla protests too much, but he stays quiet as Lúcio continues his line of easy-going (but effective) questioning. If he recalled correctly, there were ‘donors’ who gave Overwatch the funds they needed. Did the situation change somehow?

“We initially received a large amount of funding, but we seem to have...misbudgeted many things.”

“Like…?”

“The cost of maintaining the base, the Orca, jet fuel; we try to recycle as much as we can, but it's not possible in certain cases. We also had to pay the agents for their efforts and supplies, too. Dr. Zielger's nanomachines technology is not cheap to reproduce by any means, and Tracer's chronal accelerator requires unique components that can be very costly.”

“Sorry about that!” Tracer sounds just as sincere as she does guilty.

“But! Dr. Zhou and Ms. Vaswani are a great help.”

Mei blushes, waving away the praise. “Oh, don't mention it. Anything for Overwatch.”

“Dr. Zhou is very innovative in ways I've never considered, and Ms. Vaswani's hard light technology makes many of our endeavors possible and cut down some costs.”

“Glad to hear that,” Lúcio says sourly, corner of his mouth twitching into a frown.

“Though getting cut off so suddenly from our funding and losing the chef made me realize just how costly even our basic necessities are.” The gorilla sighs. “Takeout every day is very expensive and really adds up.”

A prickle of apprehension stabs at Hanzo's stomach, mentally willing Lúcio to dig into that topic as well.

“Rice and beans, Winston. Rice and beans.” Lúcio gives Winston a few pats on the back that are supposed to be comforting, but only receives confused looks instead.

“What happened to the chef, Winston?” Tracer's asks, worry evident in her voice.

The scientist stands up straight, looks around a few times, and then collapses back in on himself, fists on the ground and head dipped low. Everyone, even Hanzo, leans in.

“You see, Chef left us a little over a week ago without notice. We were concerned, of course, but there's a tracker on the chef's communicator which indicated Chef is still on Gibraltar.”

“And how are you so sure it wasn't compromised?” Hanzo spits out faster than his brain could tell him to stop showing that he was invested.

Winston, taken aback by the question, stumbles through his next words. “We-well, we. We thought of the—of the possibility. And so, we sent an agent to track down the chef's current whereabouts.”

““And?””—”Who did you send?” Lena, Mei, and Hanzo look at each other in surprised unison.

Winston strokes his chin. “I sent McCree, of course. Everyone else was on a mission or preparing to be sent off, so he was the only logical option.”

Hanzo is dumbstruck. He had been on a mission at the time, watching the happenings in Gibraltar with a ridiculously close eye. There was no way he would not have noticed if someone as (visually and audibly) loud as McCree was walking around. Either his skills were getting rusty or McCree's ability to hide in plain sight was commendable. Neither sat well with Hanzo's pride, and neither did the knowledge that McCree knew exactly where you were and didn't tell him. Not that he should've expected him to.

“He confirmed that there is no immediate danger, so we're leaving the situation as is for now. We can only wait until the chef decides to return or...informs us otherwise.”

Cold unease settles upon them all along with the implications. They can survive without you, of course, but it was not a future that Hanzo had truly ever considered until the other night. Somehow, he had always thought you'd be there behind that window, cooking for everyone. You had become such a steadfast fixture on base that it feels wrong to think that you would dare abandon your station for something else.

“So long as my customers still require me, I will be here.”

And yet...

“Hey, guys. Cheer up,” says Lúcio, likely noting the sudden shift in moods. “People come, people go. We can't force anyone to stay if they don't want to. And I'm sure that this chef wouldn't want you guys to be all mopey, right?”

Anger sparks through Hanzo's chest. How dare he say that when he doesn't even know you, but that feeling is quickly extinguished. There's no reason to be angry when is logically correct.

“You're right,” Mei mumbles. “I just hope that Chef is okay.”

“Don't worry, if there's any trouble, we'll be there in a jif’,” Tracer assures her with her signature poster smile.

Lúcio claps his hands once. “Great! Now who's hungry?”

Breakfast was a flop.

Among some of Lúcio's gifts—not the ones from his fans—were portable stovetops. Pots, pans, ladles, and other equipment were not among his possessions, so he attempted to go into the kitchen. Lúcio didn't have any of the same reservation the other agents do or any of the memories associated with attempting to enter them.

Unsurprisingly, the swinging double doors remained stubbornly shut.

Athena, when asked to open them, remained cordially (and frustratingly) loyal to you. “The kitchen is off-limits to non-kitchen personnel, Agent Lúcio.”

Hanzo unconsciously breathed a private sigh of relief as Athena continued to persist even against Lúcio's pleading and Winston's requests. At least he is not being discriminated against.

They gave up eventually, leaving your sanctuary intact. Lúcio swears up and down he'll get permission to enter, and Hanzo nearly chokes on his own spit. Preposterous.

Actual breakfast came in the form of McCree dressed down in normal civilian clothing (for once) with takeout from some local restaurant on the other side of Gibraltar. It explains his absence this morning.

Hanzo keeps his distance, the memory of the other night still burning a hole in his brain.

Winston asks between a mouthful of bread, “Where are the Junkers?”

“They seem to have found something interesting and wanted to check it out.”

“They wh—hrk!”

McCree has to clap his prosthetic hand hard against Winston's back to keep him from choking.

“Re-lax. Zenyatta is with them.”

Hanzo tries not to flinch at both the mention of the omnic or the sort of mischief those three might get into. He's heard enough stories to know that having them anywhere without sufficient supervision can only spell disaster.

Tracer leaves not too long after breakfast, citing that she had to pick up a few 'chaps’. The rest of the day is spent getting Lúcio up to speed about the current missions and happenings in Gibraltar. With suspicions of Talon watching them still high, they have to keep their operations small and discreet. It's likely the Orca hasn't gone unnoticed and they're plotting their moves already. Winston assured them that Soldier: 76 was on the case, thanks to the information Hanzo has gathered.

Meanwhile, there was also the matter of Overwatch's current state of financial affairs which Hanzo gave his objective input on, much to Winston's apparent surprise. After a few questions and back and forth, Hanzo was reluctantly tasked with designing something akin to a business plan. It's clear to see Winston wasn't comfortable with the idea, but even he had to admit that they needed money to function (or at least a backup plan until their situation is sorted out). Overwatch cannot operate on goodwill alone.

The day flies by as Hanzo works on drafting different plans and assaults Winston with sharp questions about current risks and exact numbers. Not once would the scientist give him a straight answer as to where the money is—or was—coming from, only defaulting to his vague explanation of 'donors’. Reluctantly, Winston asks Athena to give Hanzo access to the invoices, budget spreadsheets, and other financial documents the AI kept under lock and key. As much as Hanzo poured over the documents, he couldn't see beyond the numbers and vague transaction codes given. There's no indication of where this money came from, all deposits carefully redacted, leaving behind transfers and payments. (Funny enough, Hanzo knew everything is salary, unsure if he should be surprised, offended, or respect the attempt to keep everyone's pay equal.)

Even so, money has trails, transactions that can be traced. If he really tried, he's sure he could find out exactly who and where this money was coming from. It would certainly help in creating countermeasures when the judge's hammer came down on them. The legal angle had to be carefully and constantly considered and contingency plans had to be drafted out depending on what sort of crimes a decent team of prosecutors could peg Overwatch with and under what jurisdiction. Surely the UN would turn this into an international scandal, but Gibraltar may claim legal jurisdiction and decide to try them here and refuse to extradite anyone. It would definitely buy them some time.

Legislation and laws had to be pulled up every other minute and Athena was very helpful with providing the names of attorneys and law firms who were once under Overwatch's employ.

There are ways to operate within the current legal constraints; it's just a matter of being creative between now and when the UN decides to come down upon them. (In truth, it's near impossible to find a way to legitimize the actions being taken now when Overwatch is supposed to represent the 'good’ in the world, but Hanzo has never been deterred by a challenge.)

It was nothing short of exciting, mentally stimulating in the ways that the past few missions weren't.

The planning carried him through the day and dinner which was once again some unknown takeout. Even some home cooking would be preferable to the already-drying noodles clinging tightly to his fork.

When asked if pots and pans couldn't be created from hard light, Lúcio gave Hanzo a bug-eyed look.

“You kidding me? Hard light can't stand up to that sort of heat.”

Hanzo was treated to a surprisingly detailed lecture on the composition of hard light technology on a level that only Satya might be able to understand (or appreciate). Though, it's strange to think they don't get along when they both seem to share a similar interest. Wisdom had him keep those thoughts to himself.

In between listening to the temperature threshold that hard light can withstand or the delicate balance of its composition, Hanzo's thoughts drift as he mindlessly shoves the bland, lukewarm pasta into his mouth. The clumps of sauce do little to improve the flavors.

He wants saucy pasta with enough garlic to kill a vampire and onions that are still not cooked all the way through with too much butter to be healthy.

He wants meatballs that just hold their shape and give way when exposed to teeth.

He wants the clean, greasy crunch of pork cutlets, the juices and fat gushing over his tongue.

Even the dense, tangy European bread with the chewy crusts.

The sticky sweetness of a bread pudding that makes his teeth sing.

Perfectly brewed tea where the flavors of the leaf are present and clear, soothing his soul.

He wants so many things that he can't settle on what he actually desires.

But he can't complain. As long as his stomach no longer grumbles, it's enough.

It has to be.

He drinks away the grease with some tea that's been steeped too long, and talks his way through the toiling in his stomach.

The Junkers return toward the tail end of dinner with Zenyatta trailing behind them, all three dirty in a way that Hanzo has never seen even for the normally pristine Shambali monk: hands and feet caked in muddy dirt, faces and clothes full of soot.

The strange look that crosses McCree's face does not go unnoticed. It's the look of someone on the cusp of realization, separated by one missing piece. But that look is replaced by a tight smile that Hanzo loses sight of when McCree walks up to the trio.

“Hey now, y'all trackin’ mud in here. What sort of mischief did ya get into?”

Roadhog pointedly ignores him with a grunt and Junkrat blurts out a, “Best pull your head in, mate!” that doesn’t seem to phase the cowboy in the least.

If they didn’t want to tell, Hanzo didn’t particular feel like sticking around to watch the ensuing fallout. They probably fell down somewhere and are too embarrassed to admit it.

Returning to his room, he makes a small attempt to flesh out the proposals and plans before he gives up and heads to bed. There's only so much that can be done with this much uncertainty. Their priorities are all over the place, unable to decide if keeping the peace as vigilantes or relegitimizing themselves or earning a grassroots type of support or legislative support is the way to go. Winston's answers to those questions were sincere, but woefully lacking. It didn't help that Overwatch is an expensive operation running on the feelings and good will of others. Such things have limits.

Hanzo stares into the glimmering darkness of his eyelids, inhaling and exhaling in slow, even measures. He needs to stop thinking. That is for tomorrow.

Time slips away as he repeats this process. Even his body begins to swim in the mindless ocean, all solid objects becoming abstract and loose. The only thing that remains painfully intact and sharp is his mind.

Sleep, however much he wills it, does not come.

His brain buzzes with too much data and too many possibilities. Each time sleep twirls into his grasp, the sudden memory or the ever-dreaded 'what if’ would snatch it away, leaving him wondering and in desperate need of his holotablet.

Damn overactive brain.

Tossing and turning a few more times, he gives up and gets out of bed like delayed clockwork, making his silent rounds through the base until he stands in front of the cafeteria again.

A private sigh makes its way out of his lips, rattling his chest.

There’s no point in being here. It’s far too early for your normal meeting time, and he already knows you’ve been gone—the reason is still lost on him, but it’s not really any of his business what the residents of this place does with themselves. You’re all adults.

Regardless, he steps forward, activating the sensors that allow the doors to rush open.

Where he expects darkness, there’s a light. For a foolish moment, he thinks you may have returned and he could feel his whole body lighten.

But all of that dissipates: the lights do not come from inside the kitchen. Instead, the lights right over the counter are on, shining down on one of the last people he would have expected to see at this time of night.

“Miss Mei?”

Disappointment bleeds into surprise. The scientist turns, scrunching her face at him before shifting her glasses from her head to her eyes; they brighten, sparkle even, for a reason that he cannot fathom.

“Oh, Hanzo. Good evening—or, oops, sorry, good morning, I guess?” She gives him a sheepish smile that he can’t be at all annoyed with.

“What are you doing here?”

She shrugs one shoulder good-naturedly, gesturing at a stool on the far side of the wall.

“Join me.” She holds up a bottle by the neck and waves it as though it’ll entice him. "I have Chinese wine and beer."

Haltingly, he looks between her, the barely illuminated darkness beyond the window, and the bottle in her hand before he decides he has nothing to lose. It’s late enough that it’s still acceptable to drink somewhere in the world.

Briefly, he has to do a double-take at that. Now he sounds just like McCree.

Hanzo brings the stool over and sits down beside her, careful to keep some distance between them in case she may be one of those people who cannot hold their liquor well. Now that he’s closer, he can see dishes laid out on the counter which Mei repositions to better serve two.

"I think you might enjoy. Help yourself."

“Where did you get all this?”

She brings a finger up to her lips. “Shhh,” she says too loudly.

It’s probably Lúcio. He hasn’t really talked to the man much, but it doesn’t mean the others haven’t. They likely made requests of their own ahead of time. Hanzo eyes the dishes Mei has prepared for this impromptu drinking session: dried squid, some jerky, rice crackers—the salty ones with that sweet icing drizzled on top—and some edamame. Almost all of them delectable and proper accompaniments to alcohol. Strange, considering China’s drinking culture and even stranger when he looks at the bubbly scientist. It’s appreciated, regardless.

"You don't seem like the drinking type," he muses, but not unkindly.

She gives him a mischievous grin, one that speaks of a person who has often gotten in trouble under the guise of being a model child. "My university days after examinations were good practice,” she says casually, popping off a lid of a beer and offering to Hanzo.

Hanzo laughs despite himself, taking the drink in hand. "You sound like Hana."

Despite the MEKA pilot’s appearance, she can put away a lot of alcohol. Though it's only hearsay. Hanzo has never witnessed it himself, but according to the source, she can polish off beer after beer and bottles of soju on top of that. Incidentally, she revealed rather cheekily that her favorite is grapefruit flavored—what Hanzo is supposed to do with that knowledge, he'll never know.

“Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment.”

“It is.”

She smiles and gestures at the food with a gentle sweep of the hand. “You should help me eat some. I have too much.”

“...thank you. I shall.”

He goes for the dried shredded squid first, taking his time with chewing and savoring the changing flavors of spicy, umami, sweet, and back to umami. If his jaw didn’t get such a workout from eating this, he’d have no problems eating it forever.

The bitter taste of beer, cooling the slight spice of the squid brings out a sweetness that's so simple yet delightful, he can't help but sigh in content. The alcohol is not strong, but it’s pleasantly hoppy.

If only he had something fatty to accompany this like a soy-sauce karaage or some meat skewer with seared green onions in between or lightly battered—proper—asparagus tempura or burdock root. Or—his mouth gushes with the thought—chicken skin with ponzu. He gulps down another mouthful of chilling beer, washing away the phantom tastes of his desires.

In another life, perhaps.

If it were you offering, what sort of food would you prepare? How far would you go? Would you change the dishes depending on their drink? Or would you just give everything you have to offer? Maybe, just maybe, you’d drink, too.

He scoffs into his drink.

Ridiculous. That would never happen, not so long as you refuse everyone alcohol.

The rice crackers go next and he can’t help but devour the disk in two bites, chasing it with a nice drink of beer. The bubbles fill the cavities of the crackers, adding a sort of texture play on his tongue.

He goes around, shameless sampling the different nibbles offered, almost forgetting his company who sits quietly, her cheek resting on her hands folded over the bottle she covets.

“It’s not sake, but I’m glad to see you’re still enjoying yourself.”

Enjoying himself?

He blinks slowly at Mei, chewing through the edamame he’s popped into his mouth. Then he furrows his eyebrows. Is he enjoying himself? Quieter, in the back of his heart, he wonders: is he allowed to?

“I hope you are as well, Miss Mei.”

She sighs into her drink, the beginnings of a drunken smile on her face. “Oh please, Hanzo, we’re about the same age. Call me Mei. We've been over this.”

He bites his cheek to prevent himself from mentioning that she is technically two years his senior and then he has to do a mental doubletake at the stunning realization that yes she is two years his senior and he should be the one offering her a drink, not the other way around.

“I was worried because you seemed down these few days,” she admits quietly, pulling up her glass to her lips.

He’s tempted to make some backhanded remark, but barely manages something less. “Your worries are wasted on someone like me.”

“Don't be like that. We're teammates. Of course I'd worry.”

He shakes his head, stewing in the sudden bitter disappointment and the sharp sting of guilt. Another unnecessary person dragged into his affairs. They all just want to get involved some way or other.

“What are you doing up so late, Miss Mei? With alcohol and snacks, no less,” he asks instead.

She turns a secretive smile into her glass. “I just felt like it, you know?”

“Is that so?”

Mei hums, a bit of distance in her eyes as she continues to stare into her drink, seemingly contemplative.

After a long, long moment, she quietly admits, “No.”

“No?”

She shakes her head, the lion’s mane of hair fanning out even further across her shoulders, shielding her eyes and face from view. “If Chef saw us, we’d probably be scolded, right?”

Startled by the change in topic, he stares, slowly letting his beer hit the counter, mouth dry.

“Alcohol isn’t allowed, but...I don’t know.” Mei sighs, a little more defeated than Hanzo has ever seen her. “I sort of thought….if I brought this out maybe, sorry, this sounds silly, but I thought that Chef might just come running out here.” Quietly, she adds, “I’m worried.”

“...about the chef, you mean?”

“Aren’t you?”

Mei turns and looks up at him, her gaze piercing through him like she sees something he cannot. He has to look away.

“The chef is not a child,” he manages to say. “There is no reason to be concerned.”

“Oh. I thought you’d be the most concerned beside McCree and them. You get along so well with the chef that I thought...”

“We do not get along. We are merely...merely…” The words and bubbles fizzle out on his tongue.

Proprietor and customer.

Colleagues?

Friends? He mentally cringes at the word.

There’s nothing he can say that wouldn’t make him a liar. Not that anyone else would know, but it doesn’t feel right saying any of the options that run through his mind.

“...if it seems we are close, it is only because of circumstance,” he finishes. It’s the best he could do for now, and if it sounds the slightest bit off, he could blame it on the beer in his hand no matter how weak it may be.

“I see.” Mei drains the remainder of her drink, sighing heavily before she laughs sheepishly behind a hand. “I guess I just worry too much. Thank you, Hanzo. Chef should be fine, after all, we’re always the ones getting taken care of, right?”

Even though as she says that, he knows it’s far from the truth. She’s probably never seen you collapsed from overwork or know that you’re a fool who would gladly disregard your own health on a whim. Did they even know you’re on medication? Were you taking them properly wherever you are? Did you get tired to watching over them?

Gibraltar is not a large place. Surely you could find some time to return.

But maybe you left for personal reasons.

Health reasons? Family? A lover?

And that thought twists something inside him, and for a moment, he thinks he may have gotten food poisoning and chugs the last bit of the beer to extinguish the ache.

“Thank you, Miss Mei. For the drinks and snacks.”

“Don't mention it. It's nice to have a drinking buddy.” She gives him a heartfelt smile with more teeth than she'd normally show that stood out against the deep flush of her skin.

“Should I help you clean and accompany you back to your room?”

Just as the words left his mouth, his brain screeches to a halt as another inconspicuous realization sideswipes him.

Where did you sleep?

Never once had he seen anything that could have been your room. Sure, there were plenty of rooms that could be yours, but Athena had made it clear that power was limited on the base and all agents were kept on a single floor to consolidate resources.

If you had ever slept or had a room to return to, he should have seen it by now.

Unless….

It is horrifying to think of it, but what if you slept in the kitchen? He spared the darkness another look, searching for what could hint at having been a makeshift cot or sleeping area, but sees nothing but the beginnings of imaginary lights in his vision.

No, that's not possible.

But if it were, it could explain why you left.

Or could it be…

Searching rapidly through his memories, he tries to recount the pages and pages of numbers he saw this morning, trying to put a name, a price, anything that could indicate that you were getting paid or somehow compensated for your time here.

Dread seeps into his skin as he tries and tries but comes up short.

Nothing.

You don't get paid.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

His stomach twists violently and a cold chill cascades down his back, eliciting a shiver that makes his hair stand on end.

It doesn't go out even after he's helped Mei gather all her things and escorted her back to her room, his head buzzing with the implications. He tries to return to sleep after brushing his teeth, swearing to return to this newfound revelation in the morning, drifting in and out between a fitful rest and a steadily growing angry wakefulness.

Hanzo wakes to an inexplicable feeling, but he feigns sleep just as he’s always been taught—there is no killing intent, no presence beside him, just a feeling. He’s acutely aware of the quiet hum of electricity, the eerie and unnatural hush he’s long associated with the remoteness of the base. He knows he mustn’t have been asleep long, so there’s a chance it could be just some other resident making their restless rounds.

The longer he listens, however, the more his doubts begin to pile.

Nothing seems out of place—and that might be precisely what’s wrong—but there is a rolling tension beneath the surface of his skin that hints at the glaring possibility that something is wrong, something that his five senses can’t perceive. There’s a tugging inside not unlike the dragons, urging him to do something.

Bow and quiver jump into his hands and he slinks out of his bed to find refuge in the deep shadows of his room. He presses his ear against the wall, seeking out any hidden sounds past the machinery and wires and shaking metals. Several tense moments pass by, but there is nothing unusual or alarming—no one else breathing outside, no unknown footsteps—just the sounds of the night.

By all accounts, he should return to bed; there is nothing wrong.

But his intuition says otherwise and it has saved him more times than his foolhardy reasoning ever has, and so he pulls away, unsatisfied. Quietly and quickly, he slips in the earpiece to his communicator in his ear, unlatches his window and slips outside. (If an enemy is inside the base, Athena would’ve already alerted everyone, and no one wants to deal with some of the residents when they’re sleep deprived.)

The night has gotten noticeably colder since months past, the wind tugging at his hair and clothes, willing him to fall into the abyss. However, he is not so easily distracted by such mundane things. He scales the walls of the Watchpoint, mindful of the volume of his steps against the cold metal.

The sun is not yet up, but the sluggish fade from black to a midnight blue at the edge of the horizon and the quiet fade of the stars tell him that will soon change. He must not have slept long.

Beneath his ribs, the feeling of panic swells until his chest can’t contain it, spreading and numbing his fingers as he continues his sweep of the compound. In his ear, the communicator remains silent.

‘It’s paranoia,’ he tells himself even as he leaps from ledge to ledge, looking and searching for anything in the darkness that could have even been deemed the slightest bit suspicious, almost slamming straight into a well-hidden turret that swivels its head, the red charge of it nearly opening fire on him before it recognizes him as an ally and turns away.

He nearly misses a landing trying to avoid it.

It takes a few moments for the newfound terror in his heart to settle before he continues his investigation, more annoyed than before and even more unsettled.

Damn Torbjörn.

(It’s smart to hide these turrets, but damn him for it anyway, and damn himself for being spooked by such a little thing. How did he even get them uphere? The man is missing a functional hand and eye. His climbing skill can’t be that good.)

His heart pounds with the adrenaline of a fight and without any release, it toes the border toward panic.

Twice he circles the base grounds, jumping down from a height most would consider dangerous just to feel that swooping fear in his stomach, hoping it would drown out the inescapable buzz in his skin.

Nothing.

His teeth ring from the weight of his jaw’s grinding. Around him, half the sky has started to regain its color, the birds are calling to each other and giving their greetings.

It has to be nothing.

His instincts, no matter how much he wants to trust them, have to be wrong.

Just this once.

[ INTRUDER ALERT, INTRUDER ALERT ]

Hanzo almost slips off the roof.

The base comes alive: light thrown up, and the sounds of movement, and doors shuttering to trap whomever it is in Athena's clutches. Shutters slam down in front of the windows themselves, effectively locking him out of the base.

So this must be what the feeling is about. Annoying, but he's relieved his instincts did not fail him.

“Athena, status.”

The earpiece clicks. “Four armed Talon agents confirmed. Three others have been incapacitated. Soldier: 76 and Winston are on the scene and actively engaged. Agent Mei and Zenyatta are en route. The others’ whereabouts are unknown.”

He jumps down, lands right outside shuttered glass. “Location?”

“They have been stopped in the kitchen.”

His chest is seized with fright for a second before it loosens again when he remembers you're not there. You should thank whatever deity is watching over you or thank your sound judgement for leaving before this happened.

He huffs and shakes his head. Foolish. There's no need to be concerned.

A little more composed, he brings a hand back up to his ear. “Athena, shortest path from here?”

“Head west 27 meters, then proceed south 10 meters. There will be an emergency exit accessible to you on your right that overlooks the cafeteria used for maintenance.” He's moving even before she finishes talking.

It doesn't take him long to reach the location. There's no visibility into the cafeteria—he recognizes the shuttered windows as the ones that normally overlook the mess hall, but he's never noticed this door before. He presses his ear against it.

Clashing and muted rapid fire barely permeate the heavy metal. If he focused, he could almost see it in his mind's eye: Soldier: 76 trying to maintain close combat and reduce damage to a minimum; Winston providing backup. There's other sounds mixed in there as well that he can't easily discern, but it doesn't sound like a losing battle.

Hanzo breathes in deep and exhales slowly, the adrenaline and unease forced to settle at the bottom of his veins. He repeats this twice more, mentally checking off his equipment and condition.

‘Clear your mind.’

He notches his bow, back to the door. “Athena, the door.”

“Understood.”

With a beep and a quiet hiss, the door grants him entrance and he's in before it can fully open and let in the beginnings of a more colorful sky. Running across the thin catwalk that circles the cafeteria, he quickly surveys the scene: an ice wall covering the service window with Mei and ‘Snowball’ right outside. He has no visual on Zenyatta, Winston, or Soldier: 76 and can only assume they are inside the kitchen. All else looks just as it did several hours ago when he was here. The sounds of combat are muted behind the ice, the occasional blast testing the very limits of its strength.

The kitchen is not small, but it’s not so big that a prolonged fight is possible.

He clenches his jaw to avoid clicking his tongue lest someone notices him.

He tries to get to the furthest edge of the catwalk just to see the double doors that Lúcio and Winston weren’t able to enter this morning without much luck.

If only he had his contacts, he’d be able to use his sonic arrows and actually see behind those walls. As it is, he has no choice but to get close. He debates it for a moment: if he breaks position, he might lose any chances at getting any stragglers.

“Athena. Change to main communications channel. What is the current status?”

“Switching communications channel. Soldier: 76, status report.”

Immediately, his ear is assaulted with harsh breathing and the sounds of metal on metal. “—ey don’t know how to stay down, do they? Yarrgh!!”

“Hanzo reporting. I am above the cafeteria. No visual on the team.”

“Hanzo?” He finds himself nodding despite no one being able to see him. There’s more scuffling. “Stay your ground. Keep an eye on the door.”

“Acknowledged.”

Winston’s roar can be heard even without the earpiece, crashing and banging and shouts following soon after. Two loud cracks echo, and from the way Mei has her modified ice-gun out, aimed carefully at the ice, he can only assume it's about to hit its limit.

He keeps his arrow aimed at the door, listening and watching.

Seconds go by at a snail’s pace, each noise and movement never going unnoticed. Hanzo keeps his breathing slow, blinks deliberate. There’s a cacophony of sensations in his stomach, across his skin, itching the back of his mind, that he steadfastly ignores until he finally hears nothing, sees nothing move.

And then: “...all clear.”

Hanzo doesn’t relax even a fraction.

Lúcio skates onto the scene just at that moment. “Someone call for an audio medic?”

“Get in here, punk. Hanzo, you too. Mei, stay outside.” There’s a bite of frustration and perhaps even panic in his voice, but Hanzo couldn’t be sure through the hoarseness of his voice and the wind rushing through his ears as he jumps straight down from his position, landing right beside Lúcio. Mei gives him a nod from where she stands, still at attention despite the weariness in her eyes, and he barely returns it.

The buzzing unease coils low in Hanzo's belly now that he has a moment, the beginnings of which make his hair stand on end. The danger isn't over.

Unconsciously, he takes a breath and both he and Lúcio push the double doors aside with their shoulders. They give without resistance.

The sight of the kitchen stuns Hanzo and even Lúcio has to take a moment to take in the scene and mutter, “Holy shit.” The scent of blood slaps them both in the face—there’s not too much, but enough that it couldn't be ignored.

The normally neat rows of containers, plates, and glasses are mostly askew, their shattered remains all over the rubber-matted floor. The metal work surfaces are pitted with deep dents and dings even Torbjörn would have a hard time fixing. One of the sinks spew water, the faucet ripped clean off. The glass doors of the walk-in freezers are smashed in, shards of glass still coming loose and falling to the ground like glittering snow.

The thought of you returning and finding the kitchen in this state brings a bitter smile to his face.

In the corner, seven Talon agents lay in various states of consciousness and distress. Winston is in the middle of tying them up with some rope, likely something you kept in the kitchen for whatever reason.

How did they get trapped in the kitchen of all places? It’s nearly impossible to enter it without trigger some alert or Athena and there’s nothing of value here. Unless they’re after the Cellar…?

Soldier: 76 hovers over the Cellar door with Zenyatta just behind him. Neither of their faces—covered as they are—give anything away. Soldier tears off his glove and slams his bare hand against the panel which is smeared with a paint of rust.

There’s a beep.

The door rushes open, the suction of air yanks and tears at an immovable Soldier whose red, red gaze seems to cut through the darkness before it drops down to something inside. Zenyatta gasps softly, an “oh my” escaping him just as one of his orbs fly past Soldier. Hanzo doesn’t even have the time to contemplate why the door opens for the man before he dips inside, the door shutting immediately behind him.

Dense silence fills the air as everyone waits with bated breath for him to return.

When the door opens again and Soldier: 76 emerges, Hanzo’s blood runs ice cold and his breath is knocked out of his lungs, his grip over his bow and arrow go slack.

Lúcio lets out something like a curse in his native tongue as he rushes over, but Hanzo barely hears it over the ringing in his ears, his stomach dropping to his feet as he registers the scene. The feeling of dread and panic rises up in his throat, solid and realized.

Lying limp in Soldier’s arms, pale and bloody, held close to his chest like a treasure, is you.

Chapter 15>>

[perahn]

Also realistically you could do all of AE and I wouldn't cry about it

I am spending an evening doing this instead of writing baby Khem and it’s a fun change of pace.

SO LET’S DO… Katy

favorite thing about them

She has so much love to give. Just SO much, offered so freely.

(also I’m grateful she takes the rap for jumping us into so many situations that the more cautious members of the party would never touch)

least favorite thing about them

It’s a kirin not a unicorn!

(shush, Khem)

favorite line

Again, there are just so many. Any time @bettydice opens her mouth, genius nonsense comes out. Claiming to be allergic to water? The first time she called Harper her brother-dad? Explaining to Khem that all she needs to do to win an argument with Harper is to tell him to go shave?

brOTP

Apart from the party members (especially Harpy), Katy and Celeste is TOO CUTE

OTP

I don’t think she’s ever had eyes for anyone except Shay, and it’s pretty cute. But I refuse to call Kayazi an OTP until I have seen some fic from Betty and @dakoyone​, hop to it.

nOTP

It’s really funny to remember that when we began this (there’s still a reference to it in the first codex) we thought she was crushing on Harper, her asshole won’t-say-I’m-a-boyfriend.

Also Vigo was hitting on her pretty hard before she pimped Harper out to him.

random headcanon

She still sometimes misses Bob and feels a bit guilty about exorcising him, even knowing that she had to.

unpopular opinion

This is tough to come up with. hmmmmm… She should stay blonde, because when I draw the party, I get tired of all the black in her goth look and Shay’s monochrome look.

song i associate with them

I mean, Tangled is already the Harpiest movie ever (disregarding the romance) so it has to be When Will My Life Begin?

favorite picture of them

Thiiiiiiis

SHAY’S TURN

favorite thing about them

The contrast between the steadfast patience of her usual demeanor… and the way she runs headfirst into a fight, then jumps on top of the giant monsters to punch them to death.

least favorite thing about them

Her bag must stink to high heaven with all the trophies she’s taken, and our garden is probably completely overrun with screaming mushrooms by now. WHYYY

favorite line

I mean, it’s a cheap shout, but…. “You don’t have to be alone, Harper.” She meant it so well, and it landed so badly.

brOTP

Thay buddies ftw!

(also I think she should see Jeremy Bonk again)

OTP

I stand by what I said. No Kayazi shilling until I have actual fic, thank you.

nOTP

So @codenamecynic​ mentioned that the first time Shay called Khem ‘ahket’ in-game, she had no idea what it meant, and she started wondering if perhaps Shay had feelings for Khem, if they’d been a little closer on the road than we’d said previously. (for the record, it means ‘sister’, and I nope right on out of Khem/Shay)

also SHART

random headcanon

Katy has definitely cut her lip on Shay’s broken tusk while kissing at least once.

unpopular opinion

She hasn’t been cooking fantasy meth in her room all those days, but don’t ask me what she has actually brewed up.

(this one probably is unpopular… I don’t think she’s as attracted to Katy or as invested in the relationship as Katy is)

song i associate with them

I am kind of drawing a blank here, but Stand Up Be Strong, maybe?

favorite picture of them

lookit, abs

AND FINALLY KHEM

favorite thing about them

She’s a robot who was programmed to be a bitch and is slowly learning to love, and I’m so proud of how far she’s come. 

least favorite thing about them

Never again will I create a character who is supposed to be a Machiavellian genius that I have to play at 3am.

But to be a bit more fair, the paranoia. She’s her own worst enemy about 90% of the time.

favorite line

I am still pretty fond of ‘Know you are not disposable.” On one hand it’s a very dry assessment, but in context it seemed to be exactly what Harper needed to hear. Those moments are rare but they’re great.

brOTP

Thay buddies! (even if that’s a little more complicated than it used to be). To look outside the party, though, I also think Khem and Celeste are shaping up to a great teacher/student relationship.

OTP

So here’s the thing, previously alluded to when I did this for Harper: I don’t think Khem’s in a position to be in a relationship with anyone. I find it really difficult to imagine a time when she might be. But if ever she was, the person I come closest to seeing her with is Harper.

There’s just nobody else on the board at the moment who has her attention and respect in the same way, nobody else who she’s opened up to quite as much, nobody else she thinks about and worries over and takes up half of her journal as Harper. And, as I said, there is something there, which she will ferret out at some point. Don’t ask me yet what she might do about it.

I get the Khem/Jorran shipping, I really do. He’s adorable and he’s obviously head over heels for Khem, and she’s been pretty pleasant to him overall (plus Kherran portmanteaus so nicely, and every permutation of Khem and Harper’s names so far sounds dreadful) But she’s never going to take him seriously if he doesn’t take those clownshoes off, and it would take him a very long time - if indeed it’s possible - to win as much of her trust as Harper has.

nOTP

So many. So very many. Highlights include Khem/Gerald, Khem/Valas Daevin and Khem/Banelar Naga.

random headcanon

As recently mentioned to Cynic, her back tattoo is the source of her ‘Lucky’ feat (which is actually flavoured as extra divinatory insight), and represents a coautl. One of the reasons it’s on her back is that a winged-snake-Celestial was a slightly embarrassing choice of tattoo, but the magic encrypted in it was powerful enough that she said yes to her ally’s design and just asked her to put it somewhere hidden.

unpopular opinion

um hm hmmm she doesn’t need actual clothes, Katy, the hooded potato sack robes do just fine

song i associate with them

If non-lyrical counts, the Rachmaninov C Sharp Minor Prelude. Otherwise… Fallen, Dirt Poor Robins?

favorite picture of them

There has been some lovely art of her, and some silly things that I’ve done

but I think I have to share this Very Important Egg