#he likes both blowing up the BLUs AND cutting off their heads

[swindlesol]

KENNETH ❤️❤️❤️ (Demoman OC :))

#he's part of Harvey's new team #he likes both blowing up the BLUs AND cutting off their heads #he's a hybrid knight so win-win #killer aim with a grenade launcher but he sucks ass with literally any other guns #aka me. that's me #anyways isn't he handsome :) #I painted this is Painttool SAI instead of Procreate and it looks so much better #the watercolor brush is insane man #ketchart #fanart #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanart #tf2 demoman #demoman tf2 #tf2 oc

[toxicanonymity]

midnight blow

3.3k / slasher!Joel x f!reader | slasher masterlist

beautiful slasher!Joel art by @bonezone44 💙

joel master / SLASHER JOEL MASTER

Can read alone w/ recap below.

RECAP (midnight tow): You were DTF with your tow truck driver Joel, then you offended him and he almost killed you just because. You fucked for your life and promised him a bj. Now instead of strangling you and shredding your car, Joel is taking you home--just for the night, he claims.

SUMMARY: Joel takes you back to his camper and you suck him off, then go to bed with him where you find a way to take control of the whole situation and make your getaway.

WARNINGS: I8 plus, spanking, hair pulling, oral m receiving, ball sucking, face fcking, degradation, somnophilia, dubcon unsafe P in V, creampie, riding, jacking off, implicit threat of violence, the tables turn,  joel is a serial killer. NO Y/N.

dividers by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Joel drives the tow truck deep into his sprawling, dilapidated property. You’re straddling him the whole time, with his cum trickling out of you and onto his coveralls.  He opens the window and you enjoy the breeze.  Your dress is pressed up against his dirty white tshirt. Your head is over his shoulder facing the back of the truck.  You said you wanted to suck his cock, and you guess that’s what you’re going to do. Yeah, you’re letting him take you to a second location, but it feels like an improvement after having a ligature around your neck thirty minutes ago.   You’re going to have to suck it so good he falls into a coma so you can make your escape.

By the time the tow truck rolls to a stop, Joel is getting hard again beneath you, and his hips are moving, grinding into you. He cuts off the engine and puts his hands on your thighs.  You pull your head back to look at him. A toothpick rests between his teeth.  He grabs it out of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger and says, “you’re a damn good time, sugar. Lucky for you,” before throwing it out the window and returning both hands to your thighs. 

His hands slide to your ass, his hips lift into you again, and he says “Mmm.” He tilts his head back against the headrest,  falls into a trance and brings his fingers to your cheek.  He thumbs your bottom lip and you let your jaw fall open.  He wets his lips and murmurs, “you look thirsty, sweetheart. C’mon.” 

Joel pulls the handle of the truck door and pushes it open for you.  You’ve learned your lesson, and when you climb down, you stand there obediently.  It’s still dark out, and you’re parked right at the treeline in front of a small camper.  There are party lights strung outside the camper and a blue volvo parked next to it.  It’s impossible to tell how dense the woods are or how far the trees go back.

Joel hops down from the tow truck and mumbles, “good girl. smart, too. nowhere to run.” He gestures toward the camper and you obediently walk in front of him. As soon as you’re in front of him, he slaps your ass and says “Ouch!” for you.   

When you get to the door, he reaches around you to open it.  It isn’t locked.  You go inside and to the right where there’s a kitchen area.  You stand awkwardly with your arms crossed and look toward him.  There’s a sad old sofa with a folding tray in front of it and the cardboard from a Hunger Man  meal.  The windows are tilted open, and the camper smells faintly of sweat and cigarettes.  

As soon as he gets inside, he reaches over his shoulders to pull his dirty t-shirt off over his back and discards it.  Then he looks down at the crotch of his jumpsuit and slowly rubs the sticky dark blotch that rests over his hardening cock.  “Now look at this mess you made. Must’a stretched you out good.” He looks at you and his face hardens as he tells you,  “Sit down,” and points at the sofa.  You sit on the old sofa, grateful to be alive, and he disappears into the restroom. There’s a tv across from the sofa.  

-

The water turns on and off a few times, and when he comes back, he’s in dark blue joggers with no shirt.  His torso is solid, tan, with only a little chest hair and a happy trail.  He’s built, with a little bit of a belly.  His arms are hulking.  He goes to the refrigerator, pulls out a five pack of beer, and un-rings two of them. He hands one to you as he sits down.  He wants to hang out. 

He asks you what kind of tv you like. You say reality tv, the first thing that comes to mind.  

“No shit,” he nods with a contemplative frown.  You sit there and drink your beer, pretending to watch a kitchenware infomercial he seems genuinely fixated on.  When your beer’s empty, you put it on the tv dinner stand next to his can and look at him. You’ll never have more liquid courage, so you might as well make a move. 

You scoot toward him and put your hand on his closest knee then drag your fingers up his thigh. 

He tears his eyes away from the tv and whispers darkly.  “There’s my sex kitten."

You massage his inner thigh, getting closer and closer to his cock, watching the bulge in his joggers grow. Then you run your hand over it.  

You press your palm into his hard manhood, sliding over the fabric, only moving an inch in either direction as you apply pressure.  Then you cradle it with your fingers.  

His breath deepens. “Oh you’re purrin’ for it, aren’t ya, kitty.”

You nod. 

He drags the TV dinner table out of the way without standing up.  “On your knees.” 

You get on the floor between his legs and he watches with a scowl as you continue massaging him. The flickering blue light of the tv illuminates him.  Your knuckles dig into his lower belly as you hook the fingers of each hand into his waistband. 

You pull his cock out, then he holds it by the base.

With his other hand, he reaches between the couch cushion and armrest and fondles a black plastic object.  When he sees you eyeing it, he pulls it up out of the couch and a blade emerges.  A large knife.  He takes his hand away from his shaft and presses the point of the knife into one of his fingertips, admiring the blade as your hands wrap around his cock.  

You get up on your knees and lower your head into his lap. When you inhale, his musk sends a pang between your legs.  You quickly suck his tip into your mouth.  He continues to admire the blade, now just inches from your head. You suck him thirstily, making good on your claim that you really wanted his cock in your mouth.  He sighs as you take as much of him into your mouth as you can. He sits back and holds the knife on the armrest. You take his length down your throat.  His girth is challenging. Your jaw quickly begins to get sore. You bob your head, slurping and sucking hard with your lips curled over your teeth. 

He puts one hand on your head and with the other he fidgets with the knife on the arm of the chair. He moans and you glance up to see his head resting back against the cushion with his eyes closed. 

You take the opportunity to glance around to see what you could use for your escape or self-defense. You rotate your knees and change angles so you can better survey the RV for a flashlight or weapon.  

He grabs you by the hair and makes you look up at him. “What the hell are you doin’?” He pulls your head off his cock. 

You shake your head, “nothing, just curious.”

“Well, get curious about my balls.” He pulls the waistband under his balls and glares at you. 

“oh my god,” you whisper with your eyes wide, admiring his cock and balls together.

He nods slowly. You cradle his balls in one hand and take his cock all the way into your mouth with the other, getting it wet for your hand.  Then you slowly stroke his shaft while turning your mouth’s attention to his balls.  You lick up the seam of his scrotum and he shudders. “Fuck, woman.” 

You swirl your tongue around one ball before taking it into your mouth.  It really is a mouthful.  You suck  his ball and stroke his cock and glance up to see his stomach rising and falling, nudging your pinky. He groans as you suck.  You give the other one some attention.  He shifts under you and you glance at his cock to see precum  leaking from his tip. 

You try taking both into your mouth at the same time, but it’s too much. He laughs at you. Then you start sucking again and his face darkens.  You trail your tongue down and tease his taint. His balls tighten.  You lick where they meet his cock, then drag your tongue all the way up to the head and take him into your mouth again.  He pulls your head down on his cock again and again. “Fuck, yeah, fuck, oh god” then he twitches between your lips. He slams your head down with his tip at the back of your throat and breathes, “Oh fuck you, kitten,” before exploding into your throat with a groan. 

You choke on his cum, but he doesn't let you take your head off his cock yet.  Your eyes water and he shakes his head at you, then closes his eyes, emptying the last of his load.  

Finally, he releases your head and you let him out of your mouth.    

You cough and cough, then you thank him. He stares at you.  “For letting me suck your cock,” you clarify.  One side of his mouth curls upward and he looks at you darkly.

He tucks himself back into his pants, then holds the knife in his hand and touches the point to a finger, admiring it again.  You’re still collecting yourself when he furrows his brow and says, “I dunno if I’m gonna need this. What do you think?” 

You shake your head no. 

He looks at you skeptically.  “long as you're here, you gimme what I want, when I want it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But-” He wraps his fingers around the handle.  

You continue, “but what about when I want it?”

His face softens in amusement.  “Oh-ho-ho, you really are a slut, aren’t ya?”

---

Joel puts the knife down, stands up, and stretches his arms behind his back.  His bulge presses out against his joggers as his broad chest juts into the air. His triceps flex behind him.  Then he stretches an arm over his head and you get a whiff of his sweat. 

“Clothes off," he commands. 

You remove your dress and he motions for you to go in front of him. "Shower." 

It's a tiny bathroom. He makes you sit on the shower floor while he cleans himself. You hug your knees and watch the gray water go down the drain as he washes away the day. You look up at his hulking quads as he lathers his pubic hair with a bar of soap.  He grumbles, "whole bar just to get the whore off me." He puts the soap in the hanging shower caddy. 

After showering, Joel dries off then makes you use the same towel. You’re about to put your dress back on when he says, “you’re in luck. just did laundry.” He hands you a light blue laundry bag half-full of clean but wrinkled clothes.  You rifle through it and your stomach turns.  There are women’s clothes mixed in with his.  Different sizes, some of them ripped and stained. You freeze and stare at a crop top with a short cut on the breast and a brown stain around it. 

Joel loses patience and asks, “God damn, is it that hard?” He snatches the bag from you.  He takes out a heather gray t-shirt and shoves it up against your chest. It has a zombie in sneakers and says The Running Dead 5k.  “Heh,” Joel laughs when you hold it out to look at it.  There's an open gash down one side of the chest and a brown stain around the collar.  When you put it on, your nipple peeks through the gash. 

"Shorts?" You ask. 

He shakes his head no, then begins to walk back across the camper and picks up his knife from the sofa. "Bed," he says and nods toward it.  His bed is notched into the wall at the end of the camper.  He follows you to it then grips the back of your neck, still holding the knife with the same hand so the plastic digs into your neck.  

He lifts the mattress and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. "I'm not gonna have to use these, am I?" He chains one of the cuffs to a metal lamp that’s screwed to the wall right above the headboard. He leaves the other cuff dangling open. He lets go of your neck to swat the dangling cuff with the point of the knife, then wedges the knife between the mattress and the headboard and abruptly grabs you by the neck again.  

He bends you over the bed, pulls his hand back, and slaps your bare ass so hard it’s sure to leave a handprint. "Asked you a question.”

“No, I’m gonna stay right here.  You don’t need those.” 

“Don't try anything," he warns. Then he pulls his hand back again and slaps you harder on the same cheek.  Your ass tingles then it fades to numb.  He lowers his voice. "Or you're not gettin’ home tomorrow." 

"Okay," you whimper.

"Good girl."  He lets you go with a shove and you land face-down on his blue flannel sheets. 

“Shit, I’m bein’ selfish, right? Not returnin' the favor?”

He makes you get in bed first so he's blocking you in. 

“Maybe I’ll give it to ya in your sleep,” he says. “Bet ya’d like that."

You nod.  

"Yeah, there’s my sex kitten. Bet ya can’t get enough'a this.”  He lewdly grabs the bulge in his joggers before getting into bed behind you.  

While you’re sleeping, Joel slips his hand between your legs.  He feels how wet you are and whispers to himself,  “oh get the fuck over here” as he gently rolls you onto your back.

He spreads your thighs and gets between them, He feels your cunt again and breathes, “fuck me, sweetheart.” The next thing you feel is his stomach against yours, then his tip at your entrance. You’re disoriented, still not really awake as he shoves himself into you. You sigh but your eyes stay closed. He pulls back then slams into you and bottoms out.  It feels like a vivid dream. He grunts and pants as he pounds you.  He must have been at it for a while already because his sweat is dripping onto you.  Your mouth falls open with a moan and a salty drop lands right on your tongue. You open your eyes with a sigh. 

“Fuck yeah, harder," you pant. 

He tries his best but he’s already fucking you as hard as he can, and he’s nearly spent. 

“Let me ride you,” you beg.  “Wanna ride this big cock again. Swallow it whole with my cunt” 

He slows his hips.  “God damn you got a mouth on you.” 

“Please.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs as he pulls out of you and lays down on his back.  He holds his cock at the base as you straddle him and align yourself over it. His eyes fixate on your nipple poking out of the shirt.  

You take his tip slowly, then abruptly sink down onto him. “Ohhh, Joel,” you sigh. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he mutters, still catching his breath. 

You ride him vocally, and put your hands above his shoulders. His hands are planted on your hips.  When you come, you fold your body forward, discreetly grabbing the knife as you groan in pleasure.  

“Come inside me,” you breathe, and begin rolling your hips again. “Fill me up.” 

“Oh, fuck,” he pants and pinches his eyes shut.  Then he pulses inside you and groans as he comes.  You bring the knife to your thigh, then get off his cock. 

“No,” he sighs. Then you take his cock in your hand and press the flat of the blade against his pubic hair.  “What the fuck!” he gasps. “Hold on, hold on,” he begs.You press the edge of the knife against the base of his shaft.  “Look, I’m sorry about the wire and all that.”

“Prove it,” you say.  “How do I know you’re not gonna kill me?”

“Cause you’re a damn good fuck.”

“Cuff yourself.” You nod toward the handcuffs dangling from the lamp.  He hesitates and you tighten your grip on the knife. “Don’t think I won’t. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Okay, okay.”  To your astonishment, he actually cuffs himself to the lamp. 

Mercifully, you take the knife away from his cock. “Where are your keys? The keys to the volvo.”

“On the hook in the kitchen.” 

You grab the keys and come back.  “Ya know, you’re not a bad fuck yourself. Maybe I should stick around.”

-

Instead of leaving, you go to the sofa and turn the tv back on.  Something possesses you to clean his camper for him.  You can’t stand to be around the mess, and enjoy exerting control over the environment. Like you’re wrecking his vibe and leaving your lasting touch.  You spend an hour cleaning, then come back to the bed where he’s dozing off. You wake him up with a palm on his cock. 

You pull his joggers all the way off. “C’mon now, kitten” he whines. Then you straddle him with your naked heat against his semi-hard manhood.  He sighs and starts getting harder right away. 

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he sighs as you grind against him. “You’re nasty, aren’t ya.”

You nod.  He uses his free hand to guide your hips. You make room for your hand and cup his balls. “Tank empty or got a little more?”

“Oh, fuck,” he sighs then looks you up and down.  “Reckon I’ve always got more.” 

You hover right over his cock and he starts trying to thrust up high enough to fuck you.  You let his tip graze you a few times, then decisively sink onto him with a moan and he shudders. You move yourself up and down his cock, lean forward and grind against his pubic bone. “I didn’t think you’d really cuff yourself,” you say.  “What are you gonna do if I let you go?”

“Give you a ride home,” he pants under you. 

“Hah!” you keep riding him. 

“Really.”  He begins to grunts as you fuck him. 

“Why don’t I believe you?” You slow your hips. You lift yourself up and start to let his cock out of you.  

“No,” he groans. “Kitten, wait.”

You sink back down and take his free hand in yours, putting it between your legs.  “Make me come.” You sit mostly still on his cock as he works his thumb on your clit until you see stars, strangling him with your walls. 

When you’re finished coming, you push yourself off him and he groans at the loss.  He begins to jack himself off desperately as he watches you get a pair of shorts out of the laundry bag and put them on.  

"Oh bad girl," he shakes his head slowly as he keeps fisting himself. "baaaaad girl."

You leave him naked from the waist down, chained to the lamp with his cock in his hand.  

“Told ya it was dangerous out here, sweetheart,” he shouts as the door slams behind you. Then you hear him finish loudly as you unlock the Volvo and get in. 

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There will be another part but not right away. Follow for lore and more meanwhile.

Thank you so much for reading and an additional thank you to those who engage out here!! 🖤🖤 It really helps and makes me feel good. It's especially helpful bc i get labeled.

I will go back through my requests including slasher when I can.

There are more dark joels on my joel master list. you can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for fic alerts.

-

to @jazziepascal, diehard slasher!joel fan, don't worry he's not done

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore  @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy  @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk  @filthfairy  @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles  @harriedandharassed  @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy  @cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy  @pedropascal-whore  @spideysimpossiblegirl  @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

@bunnyskisses

#joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller #joel miller fic #serial killer!joel miller #slasher!joel miller #tw dubcon #tw somnophilia #joel miller smut #content label #slasher!joel #slasher!joel ☠️ #toxicanonymity ☠️

[captain-pheonix]

Blu scout and red sniper getting into a fight on the battlefield, but its just insanely homosexual?

A/N: Yes!!! Thank you sending this in 🤣 also sorry it took so long life has been busy plus I got a million bouts of writers block trying to finish this 😞

Caught ya.

Sniperscout/speeding bullet Oneshot (Scout x Sniper)

Warnings: Maybe a teeny eeny bit suggestive? Blood, knives, death before respawn, yelling if that’s triggering, Scout and Sniper beating each other up

Sniper could hear bullets firing and loud screams from every direction. He had just respawned from the other Soldier killing him for the fourth time. He seemed to have been getting targeted recently.

“Bugger.” He grumbled under his breath. He stepped out of spawn and he heard calls for help coming from the right of him. Sniper ran and started fumbling down the staircase to intel as fast as he could. He lifted his rifle to his face and looked out the scope rounding the corner, but his field of view was instantly splattered with red. He could hear blood-curdling screams of pain and familiar laughter. Sniper froze up. The Scout had been cackling like a hyena, dominating him at least once in every battle for the past week. What did he find so funny? Whatever the reason for this sudden interest, Sniper wanted to know before he personally assassinated him when the battle was over.

The Australian threw his gun to the ground, but he couldn’t manage to get his Kukri before the Scout knocked him hard against the back wall, aiming straight at his head.

“Ha. Maybe I should be your new Sniper. Your aim is TERRIBLE!” The Scout chuckled, then everything faded to black.

The familiar clicking noise, and Sniper was thrown back into spawn once again. He had to come up with a strategy, or nothing would get done this battle.

He began thinking before leaving spawn. The administrator sounded over the speakers: “Your intelligence has been dropped.” Sniper knew one thing: the Scout was going to come back to get the case when he respawned. If he could ambush him before he got there, he might have a chance.

Sniper headed to the intel room and waited around the corner.

Some time had passed and he was starting to wonder if he should just give up sitting there. Then, he heard the fast pattering of footsteps echo through the rock and concrete walls.

Sniper pounced at the Scout’s legs as soon as he rounded the corner, intel falling off his back and knocking them both to the cold floor.

“CAUGHT YA, YA LIL’ PRUDE!” Sniper shouted aggressively. He looked at the scout squirm for a moment caught under his grip like a wild animal. Then he just stopped.

“Fine, hot stuff, you win.” The Bostonian looked at Sniper and made eye contact. His face had a cheeky and sly expression on it, despite him being extremely red in the face. Was that just Exertion? What was going on? It seemed like he wanted to be caught.

“What’d’ya want from me!?” Sniper asked him. “Because I’m gonna—“ Scout cut him off with a sharp blow to the face. Sniper was knocked into the ground in pain, and Scout was kneeling over him, giving him several more weaker punches. His blue shirt getting slowly more painted in Sniper’s blood.

Sniper snatched his Kukri and slashed it across the BLU Scout’s face. He let out a high pitched yell, and Sniper took the chance to push him into the wall, pinning the smaller man down again.

Scout opened his eyes to find Sniper’s sweltering angry face, which he only smiled back at.

“Oh, you’re smilin’ now? Think that’s funny?” Sniper muttered.

“Nope. I think it’s super terrifying…in a hot way.”

“WHAT!? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Scout managed to shimmy his hand out of Sniper’s, and he brushed it under his chin before kangaroo punching the Australian down to the ground with his leg. Now it was Scout’s turn to pin him down. His Kukri was just out of reach, but it didn’t stop Sniper from trying to grab it.

“Quit wigglin’, already.” Scout smiled down at him.

“Agh. You bloody—“ Sniper was cut off by Scout leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Been trying ‘ta get your attention all week. Don’t lie, I’ve seen how you look when you’re about to shoot me. You get all red and you have a hard time aiming for me? Sound familiar?”

Sniper broke eye contact, embarrassed.

“An’ when my other teammates a’ there, you always go for them first. I’ve noticed a little pattern with you, Snipes.”

Sniper was dead silent. Now it was his turn to become beat red. “…fine. Maybe I don’t wanna shoot someone who isn’t as much of a maniac as everyone else in this dump.”

“When we met at the bar, I might’ve got a tiny hallway crush too…” Scout looked at him, confident but red enough to explode.

Sniper pulled him into a kiss. Something Sniper could’ve only dreamed of. He reached up to hold his waist. Scout’s hand drifted up to rest on Sniper’s face.

A gunshot shot out one of the security cameras from their right, breaking the kiss.

One of the team’s spies re-cloaked and ran out of the room.

————————

Haha hopefully that was gay enough. I do in fact love writing gay little men. Thanks for sending this in! 😂 and thanks for reading, dear viewer!

#team fortress two #tf2 #scout tf2 #tf2 scout #sniper tf2 #scout x sniper #sniperscout #speeding bullet #tf2 fanfiction

[mistertf2xreaderfluffballcake]

Merc finding out that another merc also like their crush?maybe?❤️Btw your work is great!

Oh no. no-no-no. Our battle will be legendary! Damn. Lets get one thing clear, nope its a big fatass nope. Nope, they are not worthy. Also, I made sure it was the opposite team merc. To make this spicy. You guys are not prepared! *A lot of swearing a lot* *This not romantic really...just swearing... so yeah, you might be disappointed anon sorry...)*

~How the mercs are if their enemy team also has a crush on you~

Scout

He found out that the blu engi liked you. That little shorty? Really? HA! He stood no chance. He is an angry boy tho. Nope. He will screw with him so much (same with engi) He will always brag about how he is good and how blu engi is...less good. ''Hey! TOOTS! Did ye see that I just beat him so much I bet he will go back crying home to texas! HA!'' 24/7 insult time. He also cuts off him if he sees you talk to him. Oh! Hi, engi! Oh hi, sug- S/O THERE IS AN EMERGENCY!! Oh no, sorry engi! scout`s calling me. *engi smile with the most fake-ass smile ever* What is the emergency scout! I was talking to blu engi! Nothing. ...wtf

Soldier

The blu Demoman liked you. That drunk maggot!? He was unhappy. Very unhappy. Oh boy, you bet he will beat up him during battle! He will also be with you the whole time!!! Soldier, I am fine. NO! CUPCAKE THAT DRUNK MAGGOT COULD BE ANYWHERE. Blue demo is not a bad person you kno- *KABOOM* I am here s/o~! MAGGOT! They will fistfight ok? They both are pretty close in the strength you, but the important question is who is stronger and is worthy of cute little s/o?

Pyro

...um...um...Pryo is just a bit more clingy. Pyro found out how the blu pyro liked you...BURN EACH OTHER TO ASHES. TASTE THE RAINBOW! It is just fire everywhere. *Both pyro burning each other* I made cupcakes~! *stops* *happy pyro noise comes from both pyro*

Engineer

The other scout liked you. OH hell no. That tiny weak buddy boy!? Go back to mama! He will make his sentry especially target him. Was the sentry hitting demo a few moments ago? Welp is that thing now shooting scout from a far range at a much faster speed? That is weird... a bad sentry day I guess. He also chills with you a lot. Oh? Another discussion about your weapon? hmmm...I wonder why. Oh! Hi, sugar! :) Have a seat I just wanna have a quick chat about your weapon and how we can improve it. (it was not a quick chat it was a 2 hour long nice conversation it was good tho)

Heavy

The enemy scout likes you? That baby boy? He knew he shouldn't get mad over such a thing but...he just had to ok? He will destroy that tiny man. Was he trying to impress his crush? Oh, he is now on the floor dead. Oh hi heavy! Hi s/o, You having a good da- *hears enemy scout calling for you* Did you hear that? NO, Do you want to go to the base and have sandvich? sure!

Demoman

...the other soldier liked you. That loud rude idiot? (Pft...He has no chance. )I am now going to fistfight him so bye~! Cheer for me love~! He will spend more time with you. just always chilling with you. During the battle, he will blow up soldier so many times! *KABOOM* hehe, I got him...again! *hick* Did ya see that s/o! He just went boom ya know! All the other mercs are just watching two crackheads just beat each other to death, it`s like a movie! yey free movie.

Sniper

...The other spy liked you. Oh hell no. That sneaky bastard! He was really worried that you would fall for him, but you know what he had to be the big man. He *sign* only targets spy now. ONLY. He sees him, boom headshot! Oh, he was doing a neat magic trick to give you a flower? the flower is now gone oops I was aiming for his head. He will screw him off so much. It is insane. Whenever you are around he will be more clingy...he knows spy is watching. He will pat your head, have a hand around you, etc. (Haha, what ya gonna do bloody spy? Kill me in front of dear s/o hmmm? hahaha I hate you)

Medic

This boy is very very mad. Flirty medic mode: OFF ANGRY MEDIC: ON The...other sniper liked you. That disgusting unhygienic pissman!? He will be next to you ALL DAY LONG. GO ON SNIPER I KNOW YOU ARE WATCHING! WHAT ARE GONNA DO? THROW PISS AT ME? HA! This boy will also flirt with you more...in front of that damn sniper. Oh, his tower is behind me? dont care. flirt and make you blush. He is next to you during battle, healing you... I am fine medic you should heal others!! No its ok they could use the health kit. I can too you know????

Spy

The other spy liked you. That absolutely unprofessional piece of shit He was let`s say...unhappy. He actually felt loved around you! He WILL NOT allow some garbage spy to take you away from him. Spy fight all day long. BACKSTAB,BACKSTAB, BACKSTAB. Of course, you never saw it happen tho only a few know about this. They will always show how much a better spy they are. They are always gone as soon as the battle started, I wonder where they went... They will insult each other in french. So again...what are they saying hmmm a nice conversation? (nope) Instead of flirting he will show that he cares about you. Patting your head, giving you compliments, just spending with each other.

This was fun to write. Sometimes just take a break from cheesy, fluffy, all that stuff. Writing insult/crap is fun too you know. I am sorry anon this is probably what you didn't expect. It`s just my crackhead brain mode went on. Ok? Anyway, I hope you enjoy my random energy writing. Let me just go back to my cave and eat some rice crackers. I apologize for swearing so much um bye.

#asks #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 pyro x reader #tf2 engineer x reader #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 spy x reader

[realcube]

characters dealing with a deep sleeper! s/o  (_　_)。゜zｚＺ

characters: bokuto, oikawa & saiki k 

tw// swearing, fluff, mentions of death, illness, funerals, sexual references 

Kōtarō Bokuto

he literally thought you died 

this was your first time sleeping over at his home and last night, y’all were stuffing your faces with treats until your stomachs ached

you had mentioned several times how you were feeling sick - even after bokuto took you out for a late-night run - but he just told you to take a pain-killer and sleep it off

but now he was kinda regretting not calling someone to help 

like what if the sickness was a symptom to a deadly disease which took you overnight?

plus, he had tried everything he could think of to wake you up: he shook you, he blasted music from his phone, he opened the curtains to allow blinding light to shine on you, he flicked spits of cold water onto your face and he literally wafted cookies around the room in hopes you’d catch the scent 

but it was no use as even after all that, you didn’t move an inch

he tried to check your pulse which he believed to be on the wrist but he couldn’t think it 

so either he was too stupid to find the exact location or......you didn’t have a pulse

he’ll admit, it was an eerie thought that there could be a dead person in his bed rn but even he considered that a rather outlandish idea 

how could a person as healthy as you just die overnight? so he did what any reasonable person would do in that situation-- no, not call a doctor

he held a funeral for his beloved s/o 💀

he gathered all five of the plushies laying around his room (all of which were owls) and lined them up on the foot of the bed 

‘we are all gathered here today to celebrate the epic life of my partner, (y/n) (l/n).’ he sobbed into the sleeve of the black blazer he had pulled out of his closet, ‘gone too soon.’

silence. but in his mind he was met by a chorus of ‘aww’s and whimpers from the crowd

‘i loved them. (y/n) was my rock; they helped me through some of the hardest points in my life--’

his speech was cut off upon hearing one of the audience members pipe up, ‘bo, what are you doing?’

a wave of excitement washed over him as he scurried up to the line of guests, closely examining each one, ‘i didn’t know y’all could talk!’

you rolled your eyes before leaning forward and gently tapping the back of his head, ‘it’s me.’

upon laying his eyes on you, healthy and alive, his lips curled into a foolishly large grin as he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, ‘(Y/N), you’re alive!’ he cried

you gasped at his rather dramatic reaction before slowly melting into his embrace, ‘yes, i am.’

as your lips parted from the skin of his jaw and he slowly let his arms fall from your waist, you finally inquired, ‘did you hold a funeral for me?’

bokuto’s eyes-widened at your ‘crazy’ suggestion, ‘uhhhh, nooooo.’

if his elongating of each word wasn’t enough to show that he was lying, the dead giveaway would have to be the sheet of A4 paper with ‘(Y/N)’S FUNERAL 😭’ written on it that was stuck to the door with blu-tac

ignoring his completely false reply, you leaned back on the bed and picked up on the owl plushies, gently stroking it’s soft fur, ‘are these the guests? why are there only five?’

bokuto shrugged, picking up one himself and absentmindedly attempting to balance it on your head, ‘seven; if you count me and you.’

you giggled, about to make a inquire about the names of each guest until bokuto suddenly through his arms around you again 

‘why didn’t you tell me that you are such a deep-sleeper before?! i was so worried - i thought you died! please never die on me again, (y/n)?’

you smiled, pulling back to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, ‘i promise.’

Tōru Oikawa

he would take advantage of this opportunity lol

the first time y’all slept over together as a couple, he had no idea that you were as deep of a sleeper as you actually are

like he thought you meant ‘i sometimes sleep through my alarms’ deep-sleeper

NOT ‘IT TAKES A WHOLE NATURAL DISASTER TO WAKE ME UP IN THE MORNING’ DEEP-SLEEPER (/h)

anyway, at first, he’d probably just freshen up while you sleep: take a shower, wash his face, brush his teeth, floss etc so he’s no longer effected by that ✨morning crust ✨

but when he pokes his head out of the bathroom and noticed that your sleep asleep, he tries to blow-dry his hair bc he knows how much you like it when it’s all fluffy

but his blow-dryer was quite loud so he put it on for a few seconds to see if it’s wake you up and just as he expected, you were still sound asleep

so he blew-dry his hair until it was that soft texture that you liked so much- all while you were still like (∪.∪ )...zzz even though the blow-dryer was making a racket 

you were still sleeping and upon looking at the time, he realised that it was completely fair considering it was currently half past 8 and he had just woken up extremely early for some unknown reason

he didn’t want to wake you so he was just doing to go out for a run or make breakfast until he caught a glimpse of himself in mirror

o.O

despite his  puffy hair and pearly-white smile, he still looked sloppy

but it was definitely bc of his stained, torn, washed-out pyjamas tbh

he was just wearing an old T-shirt that he’s had for god-knows how long and a pair of grey sweatpants; it wasn’t a look

he had no idea what possessed him to wear such casual nightwear while you were at his house - especially when you chose to wear something so relaxed yet titillating - but he knew that he needed to change

after a while of rummaging through his nightwear drawer, the best he could find was a pair of white, silk, loose-legged trousers which he had bought for a halloween costume many years ago

it was pretty classy though :)) he was sure that you’d like it 

however, he still couldn’t find anything to wear on his top half but there is no fashion problem oikawa can’t solve 

thus, he went shirtless ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

he also threw on some jewellery too, just for the lols

you weren’t awake yet thought, so after he set up some candles to create a ‘mood’, he just sat next to you on the bed, scrolling on his phone and anticipating your reaction once you woke up

for a moment, he thought that he might’ve went when too far but upon taking a look at himself in his front-facing camera, he realised that there was no harm in spicing things up

once he noticed one of your eyes slowly flutter open, he quickly tossed his phone to the side and turned his body to face you, shooting you a kind smile and he gently ran a hand through his fluffy hair, ‘morning, angel~’ he cooed

you grumbled your greeting in response, then proceeded to rub your eyes to make sure you were seeing him correctly, ‘what are you wearing, tōru?’

‘can a guy not dress up for his special someone anymore?’

you rolled your eyes, playfully slapping his chest and going to hop out of bed until he pulled you back down against the sheets

a faint gasp escaped your lips but you were quickly hushed by oikawa pushing his finger against your lips, ‘you’re not going anywhere, (y/n).’

Kusuo Saiki

this was the first time you ever slept over at his house or next to him yet y’all had been dating for year and a half

he was just scared that he might accidently do something crazy in his sleep (bc of his powers ofc) and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you 🥺

you were patient with him though but bc y’all had never woken up together before, he had no idea how deep of a sleeper you are

he thought it was cute at first bc you were laying there like the beauty you are, lookin’ all serene and calm and stuff

but after a while, he got bored on his own  #•̀ ︿ •́

also, you promised to bake macarons with him for breakfast and he was hungry as hell, still he didn’t want to eat without you but if he didn’t wake you up rn to make macarons, he’d surely starve to death while they were in the fridge

on any other day, he’d just try do it himself but when you helped him make food- it just hit different 😍

‘(y/n), wake up.’  he spoke into your mind using his telepathy, while light nudging your arm, ‘i’m hungry.’

you didn’t reply, seeming completely knocked out

he tried the next best thing, holding his annoying alarm noise near (but not too close) to your ear

still nothing, though

his last human attempt was aggressively pulling your blanket away but even after that you showed no signs of waking up so he realised that he’d have to resort to using his physic abilities

he considered using his astral projection to possess your body but he felt as though taking over your body might cross a few boundaries 

but he did try duplicating himself so he could shake you from many different angles but it was still no use

he continued to use his telepathy to try wake you up but it didn’t seem to work either

after multiple different attempts of using his powers to try wake you up; here he was, standing in the middle of some dystopian, apocalyptic scene - alarms ringing in the distant along with sirens, screaming, honking and wails. everything around him seemed to be engulfed by flames which created thick, smoky air 

he wasn’t really sure how he got here but he was pretty sure it started around the time he tried to form an energy ball 

whatever 🤷‍♂️ it’s no biggie

he jumped back in time so he was standing next to your bed once again, exactly where he left off before he created the energy ball

he stared down at your sleeping figure and let out an exasperated sigh as he realised that he’d have to employ one of his most dangerous tactics

he really hoped it didn’t have to come to this

‘(y/n), if you get up right now.’ his voice rung through your head, ‘i speak with my voice.’

just like that, both of your eyes shot open as you hastily sat up on the bed

‘do it, saiki!’ you cheered, a foolishly large grin plastered on your features

and he couldn’t help but smile too 

curse you for being so cute

#bokuto #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #saiki k x reader #saiki x y/n #saiki x reader #saiki fluff #oikawa torū #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #bokuto x y/n #bokuto x you #oikawa fluff #oikawa scenarios #kusou saiki #oikawa tooru #kōtarō bokuto

[kinglazrus]

Dead Man Walking

Phic Phight | AO3 | FFN

Submitted by @syrren: Instead of making him half-dead, the portal accident makes Danny unable to die. This....changes things.

(or: how canon changes if the accident leaves Danny with deadpool-style regeneration abilities to make for a horrifyingly self-sacrificing vigilante, or with some kind of reset ability every time he dies to equally horrifying implications)

Summary: The accident changes Danny in ways he never thought possible. Sam and Tucker watch him fall from the portal dead and burnt beyond recognition, but he doesn't stay dead for long. He never stays dead. Of all the things Danny expected to happen when he walked into that portal, getting unlimited regeneration wasn't one of them, but now that he has it, he's going to put it to good use. Deadpool AU.

Word count: 3606

The first time Danny dies, his friends bear witness. They will never forget the ominous whirr of the portal as it turned on, the warning crackle of electricity, the final throat-tearing scream of their best friend. There are other things, too, that burned into their minds that day. How his body hit the floor of the lab with a thud, burnt beyond recognition, burnt so bad there wasn't any blood. How it smelled, to their horror, not so different from charred barbecue.

They like to pretend that part never happened. It's easy when all they need to do is call his phone and hear his voice, unaffected by the savage electrical heat that brought him to ruin that day. When he doesn't stay dead, it's not hard to pretend he never died at all. It took minutes for his body to fix itself, blackened skin overtaken by fresh pink muscle, which then sprouted new skin, perfectly unblemished.

Even the scar he got when he was fell off his bike at six years old disappeared.

"I liked that scar," Danny says, pouting when he finally notices its absence three days later.

"I don't think that's the right thing to get hung up," Sam says.

"But it looked like a spaceship!"

"I always thought it looked like an upside-down nine," Tucker muses.

"Or six," Sam says.

"Upside down nine is more fun."

They proceed like this for three weeks, mentioning the accident only in the lightest of terms, joking about their new, shared trauma. They are content to move on with their lives, forget it happened, go on as normal high schoolers. Until Danny dies again.

—

"What do you mean you don't want to hunt ghosts?" Jack exclaims. He gapes down at the trio, wholeheartedly baffled by this confession.

"I'll stick with tech, thanks," Tucker says, holding up his phone.

"Ghosts just aren't cool anymore," Sam says.

"Can I go back upstairs now?" Danny asks. At his question, Sam and Tucker fall silent. None of them make eye contact, and neither do they look toward the portal innocently humming only a few feet away. Danny is very aware that this is his first time in the lab since the accident. The same thought runs through Sam and Tucker's minds.

Jack doesn't notice the sudden change in mood. "Nonsense, Danno! You love ghosts. Why, I remember when you were just a tyke, you wanted to be a ghost when you grew up." He clenches his fist. "It was unacceptable. But that's okay! You can hunt them instead!"

He turns his back on Danny and his friends, eagerly going over the array of tools laid out on the counter. Ghost detectors, ecto-guns, protective shield, and an empty space where a thermos should be. "I forgot the best part! Wait right here, kids." Jack charges upstairs, leaving the kids alone.

Danny glances at the portal, unable to suppress a shiver. "You think he'd notice if I snuck away?"

"Nuh-uh, if you go, we go, too," Tucker says.

No one gets to go. Two sets of slimy green tentacles poke through the portal, probing the empty air. Their soft bodies soon follow, revealing a pair of ghostly octopuses.

"Holy shit ghosts are real." That is all Tucker has time to say before the ghosts attack. They launch themselves forward, shrieking in excitement. One goes for Sam and the other charges Tucker. They try to jump out of the way, but the ghosts are faster. The ectopuses tentacles wrap around them, pinning their arms down.

"Danny!" Sam shouts.

In retrospect, a smarter person would have gone for the ecto-gun lying on the table, freshly loaded and ready for a demonstration. Or, they might have shouted for his father, a ghost hunter who has trained his entire life for this scenario. But Danny acts faster than he thinks. He dives toward Tucker, the closest of the two, and digs his fingers into the ghost's tentacles. It screams as Danny's nails dig into its flesh.

The ghost's body goes translucent. Tucker slips out of its grasp, dropping to the floor in a heap, but Danny's hold stays firm. The ectopus panics, thrashing and tugging, its flailing limbs cutting through Tucker over and over without harming him. No matter what the ectopus does, it can't shake Danny loose, and his nails are starting to cut.

"Dude, you're doing it!" Tucker says, too soon.

As it flails, one of the ectopus' tentacles smacks Danny in the face, making his head snap back. At that moment, he and the ghost have the same realization. If he can touch it, it can hurt him back. The ectopus gives another shriek and its remaining seven tentacles surge forward. They wrap around Danny's arms, his chest, curling so tight his bones ache. The last one closes around Danny's throat.

His throat, weak like the ghost's flesh, crumples in an instant. His air disappears. No sound leaves his mouth, not even a wheeze, and his eyes bulge as panic sets in.

"Danny!" Sam and Tucker scream. Sam struggles against her captor kicking and gnashing her teeth, but her boots can't reach its body. Tucker grabs Danny, tries to pull him away, to bat off the ghost’s grip, but it is no use. The ghost is too strong, and Tucker can't touch it in this state.

Danny loses focus of them, then. His brain goes fuzzy, everything blurring around him while his face grows hot. All he can feel is the burn, the ache, the need to breathe, breathe, breathe damn it! The haze of the ghost looming over him fills his vision, slowly overtaken by red, then black spots.

As everything goes dark, Danny's last thought is this:

I guess I'm dead after all.

—

He hears the sobbing first. It starts off quiet and distant, but quickly grows louder, great hiccupping coughs scattered between heart-wrenching cries.

"Mr. Fenton!" someone screams. It happens fast, after that. Thundering steps, a deep cry of shock and pain that cuts him to his core. A piercing whine followed by two quick blasts.

The ectopuses' retreating shriek cuts through Danny loud and clear. His eyes snap open and air rushes into his lungs, a hoarse, wheezing breath that he holds for a moment. Then he takes another, and another, and he's breathing again, and he's not anymore.

Sam and Tucker, kneeling at his side, cry out as one. They throw themselves on him, blubbering messes the both of them. Danny's father, facing the portal, turns disbelieving eyes on him.

Danny's gaze drops to his father's hand and the ecto-gun clutched in it. "Oh, right." The word scrapes against his throat. He swallows, twice, until speaking doesn't hurt and says, "I forgot we had the gun.

"Danny!" Jack dashes toward them, dropping to his knees beside Danny. Sam and Tucker scramble back, giving him room. "Are you alright? What happened? You looked..."

Dead.

Because he was. Again.

"I'm fine," Danny assures him. "Lost consciousness, that's all.

"Danny, your face was blu—" Tucker yelps when Sam punches him in the shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence. He rubs the spot, shooting her an offended look, but Sam's eyes are only on Danny.

Danny nods, just enough that she can see, a silent thanks.

"I think you kids should go upstairs now." Jack's voice trembles. He raises his hand, about to run it through his hair, but stops when he sees the gun he's still holding. "I'll take care of things down here. Call your parents and all that."

For the first time, Danny notices the green splotches littering the floor and the wall. Probably from the ectopuses.

Sam loops an arm around Danny's shoulders, hoisting him up. He stumbles when he gets to his feet, bracing himself against her as the room spins. It settles after a few seconds, but he still feels a bit lightheaded. A side effect of choking, maybe?

Tucker helps from Danny's other side. They go up to Danny's room in silence, their steps thumping up the stairs. Only once they're safely behind his closed door, and Danny is lying on the bed, does Sam speak.

"You died again," she says.

Danny touches his throat. "Yeah." Pressing gently, he feels is no lingering pain. Just like before, he healed without a trace. "Can I just not die now?"

"More like you can't stay dead," Tucker says.

"Tucker!" Sam hisses.

"What? It's true! Sorry that I'm not handling seeing my friend die twice very well!"

"Be quiet!"

Danny cuts in before they can devolve into shouting. "Let's just leave it at two, okay?"

Sam and Tucker share a glance over Danny's prone form and nod. The weight of that action is lost on Danny, whose only thought is that he wants to sleep for a very long time.

—

The knives don't kill him. They hurt like hell, but they don't kill him. He sees them flying toward him and leaps out of the way. Something strikes him in the gut, a solid punch that blows the air from his lungs and knocks him back into the walls. He thinks one of the frozen steaks got him, but when he looks down, he sees the handle of a kitchen knife sticking out of his stomach.

He stares at it, stunned, not feeling anything at first. Then, his body jolts, like a shock of electricity is running through him, and his nerves scream, heat building, until every little twitch sends a jolt of pain so deep coursing through him that he can hardly breathe.

"Danny, look out!" Tucker, or Sam, he can't tell which, so lost in his pain, cry out a warning. Danny doesn't move in time and two more knives bury themselves in his body, another in his stomach, and the other through his chest. The Lunch Lady cackles with glee as Danny gurgles. The last knife got his lung, and he can feel it slowly filling.

The pound of Sam's boots on the tiles reaches his ears. She shouts something, but he doesn't hear it. Trembling, Danny grips the handle of the knife in his lungs. In first-aid, they tell you to leave whatever object stabbing you in. It keeps the wound plugged, stops you from bleeding out. But Danny's instincts cry out against everything he was ever taught.

Take them out! Take them out!

He braces himself, then yanks. It hurts so much worse coming out, now that he's aware of the pain, the sharp edge searing as it rips the wound wider. He drops the knife and goes for the next one. All three fall to the floor beside him with a clatter, their blades shiny and red. Danny can't breathe, can barely think through the pain. He presses a hand against his chest, feeling the wound beneath his shirt.

It stitches itself together beneath his fingers. The searing pain retreats, replaced by a dull ache. By the time Sam reaches him and rips his shirt open to see his wound, his chest is healed.

"Technically, I didn't die," Danny croaks.

Sam sobs, covering her mouth with her hand. There's relief in her eyes, beneath the horror, and she makes a noise that might be a laugh, choked and garbled as it is.

Danny dives back into the fight with renewed vigour. Twenty minutes and one Fenton Thermos later, the ghost is gone, but not before half the student body saw some bloody idiot fighting it bare-handed.

"Did you see who it was?" Dash whispers to his friends.

Danny, clean of blood and wearing his gym t-shirt, slumps against the wall nearby, listening. Someone called the police when meat started flying through the hallways, and they apparently called Danny's parents. Ghosts are real and everyone knows it now, but Danny doesn't care about that at the moment.

"No, man. I wasn't close enough," Kwan answers Dash.

"Whoever that was, he totally just saved us all," Paulina says. She clasps her hands together and leans against Star. "He's such a hero."

Hero. The word resonates with Danny. He can't explain it, but it pulls at him. A hero. The school is in chaos, the yard covered in raw meat, the hallways hacked and slashed, but everyone is safe and unharmed thanks to Danny.

"More like a dumbass," Sam mutters from Danny's left.

"Semantics," Tucker says.

Between them, Danny only grins.

—

Jack paces in front of the portal, a tub of fudge cradled in the crook of his arm. Every few steps, he grabs a square and pops it in his mouth, chewing furiously. Between bites, he mutters.

"I'm telling you, Mads. He must have been some kind of ghost," he says.

"I don't know, Jack." Maddie, staring at the computer screen, tilts her head. They managed to grab a few stills from the school's security footage of the figure who fought off the ghost, but they didn't come out right. The surroundings are a little grainy, but no more than a standard security camera, so they know there's nothing wrong with the film itself. The ghost, who called herself the Lunch Lady if Maddie remembers correctly, is little more than a green haze in the image. They expected this. Ghosts don't interact with most technology well, not unless it is designed to interact with them.

But the smaller figure is distorted, a twisted shadow obscuring their form. Not ghostly, but not human either.

She clicks to the next image, getting the same results.

"Are you saying it's a human?" Jack asks without breaking stride.

"It's humanoid, but I don't think it's human, either. Yet it bled, so it's not a ghost. And look at this." She closes the files, revealing a folder full of pictures, all of them taken over the past couple of weeks as ghost sightings increased. "They show up at most fights and leave lots of bodily fluids behind." Jiggling the mouse, she circles a series of four images with the courser, all pictures of significant blood splatters. "But the samples..."

As one, she and Jack turn to the sample tray sitting on the far counter. Where the blood is deep red in the pictures, the samples they took have slowly turned to a dark, murky brown, like thick mud. The oldest sample from the first sighting is black.

Jack grabs a handful of fudge and shoves it in his mouth. "Not to mention," he speaks around the chewy squares, "what does it do with the ghosts?"

The lab door squeaks as it opens. Maddie and Jack fall silent, gazes turning toward the stairs. A pair of red sneakers appears on the top step, creeping down, until the wearer slowly reveals themself. Their son, Danny, with what looks like a thermos clutched in his hand.

"Sweetie, are you only just getting home?" Maddie asks.

Danny yelps in surprise. He jerks the thermos behind his back and swivels to face his parents, freezing on the step. "Oh, hey. I didn't think you guys would be here..."

Maddie narrows her eyes. "What did you do, young man? You were supposed to be home from school an hour ago."

"Nothing! I just got held up." Danny tugs the collar of his jacket.

That's odd. Maddie doesn't remember him leaving with a jacket this morning. The sleeves drape over his hands, down to his knuckles, and he has the collar turned up to cover his neck. It must be cold outside, even though September is only just ending. "What held you up?"

"Uh, that's kind of why I thought you guys wouldn't be here? There was another ghost fight. It got pretty bad." He shifts, pressing his arm against his side. Is his jacket darker there, against his ribs?

"Another ghost?" Jack exclaims. He slaps the fudge down on the closest surface, rattling the test tube samples. "Mads, we gotta go! There might still be some evidence!"

Maddie's eyes widen. "Oh, shoot. You're right! We need fresh samples." They race to grab their equipment, snatching up sample gathering packs from their desks, and charge up the stairs.

Danny presses himself against the wall, offering them a nervous smile as they go. "Stay safe!" he calls. The front door slams as Maddie and Jack make their exit, leaving the house in silence. Still, Danny doesn't relax until he hears the rev of the Fenton RV and the familiar squeal of its tires against the pavement. His shoulders slump and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"That was close." Taking his hand out from behind his back, he looks down at the Fenton Thermos. "Now let's get you taken care of."

As he empties the thermos back into the Ghost Zone, his gaze wanders to the computer screen, still open to the photo evidence. Danny reads the title of the folder. "Challenger?" He snorts. "That's lame." As he skims the photos, a couple jump out at him. In most, he can barely make out the shape of his own body—something he tries not to think about—but in one or two, he can recognize the colours of his clothes beneath the distorting shadow.

Danny slaps the cap back onto the empty thermos before moving closer to the computer, frowning at the screen. "That might be a problem."

—

Danny stands in front of his friends, fists resting on his hips, and shows off his new look. "Well? What do you think?"

Tucker looks him up and down, body shaking as he suppresses his laughter. "Is that a paper superhero mask? Did you spray paint your hair white?"

Danny's hands rise to his head. "It's a spray-on dye! I thought it was cool!"

"Ten bucks says it's super crispy."

"Don't be mean," Sam admonishes Tucker. "I think he looks pretty good. For a discount Jack Frost."

Tucker snaps his fingers. "Emo Jack Frost! The real one would never wear this much black."

"We are no longer friends," Danny says, turning away from them.

"Come on, don’t be a spoilsport."

"Nope, too late. I'm already dead to you."

Sam and Tucker share a confused glance. "Don't you mean we're dead to—" Before Sam can finish the sentence, Danny turns and throws himself out his bedroom window. "Danny!" They scramble after him, falling against the sill as they lean outside, peering down to the alley below.

Danny lies face-first on the pavement.

"Are you dead?" Tucker asks.

Danny raises his arm and gives them a thumbs up.

—

Valerie holds back a startled shout when the metal suit crashes onto the sidewalk next to her. She is not scared, but anyone would be surprised if two tons of metal suddenly fell from the sky. A scream, rapidly increasing in volume, drawings her gaze upwards just in time for a black-clad figure to plummet inches from her nose and land with a sharp crack on top of the suit.

This time Valerie cries out because holy shit, is he dead? Her panic sputters out when she peeks at the possible corpse and gets a good look at exactly who, or what, came falling after. A human figure dressed in all black with poorly coloured hair. It looks crispy as hell.

Valerie sneers. What kind of cheap dye did they use?

She recognizes the Challenger on sight. By now, more than half of Amity Park can, although Valerie can't account for the sudden style change. Maybe they realized how lame their regular t-shirt and jeans are and decided to switch things up. This isn't much better, though. Black hoodie, black pants, black boots, no style.

No one knows their name, but the moniker the Fentons gave them seems to have stuck. Valerie thinks it's a little on the nose, though.

Something wriggles in the corner of her eye and she looks to the Challenger's fist. It clutches a bright green blob, with stubby limbs and a wide mouth.

"Let go of me!" The blob beats its penny-sized fists against the Challenger's thumb. "You are my prey!"

The Challenger groans. "Can you shut up for a second? I think my neck broke." They squeeze the blob until it squeaks.

"Hey. Watch where you're throwing this stuff around." Valerie kicks the arm of the metal suit. "You nearly crushed me!"

The Challenger jolts. Their head whips up, accompanied by a loud crack, and they lurch to their feet. A mask covers their eyes—cheap like the hair dye, probably from a costume stored—but judging by the way their eyebrows shoot up, they look at Valerie with wide eyes.

"Uh, hey, Va—citizen." Their voice drops a solid octave. "Sorry about that! I'll watch out next time." They are about to say something else when a loud squeal interrupts up, the signature sound of the Fentons' approach. The Challenger pales. "Sorry, gotta go!"

They dash into the nearest alley before Valerie can get another word in, leaving her with the empty metal husk and the sound of the Fentons from two streets away. She gapes after them, unsure what to make of the brief exchange.

"Actually, wait a second." The Challenger pops back around the corner, leaping over the ghost's suit to reach Valerie. They grab her shoulders in a cold grip. "Are people really using that dumb name for me?"

At a loss for words, Valerie nods.

"Ugh." The Challenger groans and lets her go in favour of rubbing a hand down their face. "Stop that. It's so boring. Just call me... Phantom. Okay? See ya!" They spin away, too fast, and trip over the metal suit.

Wow, Valerie thinks as Phantom scrambles around the corner once more. We have the lamest superhero ever.

#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #danny fenton #deadpool au #danny phantom fanfiction #humour #tumblroneshot

[factual-fantasy]

Thank you! I’m very glad you like them! ♡ඩᴗඩ♡

As for their story? Ohhh boy uh.. how do I explain this...

Okay uh.. let me attempt to make this as comprehensive as possible. Also this basically turned into a mini fic.

You know those tf2 sfm channels on YouTube? The ones that make videos that usually look like this?

Well, I had this idea one night while trying to sleep..

Imagine that there was another one of those silly channels, just making dumb videos using the tf2 mercenaries as its characters. No story or timeline, just silliness with every episode that was made.

Well, as the episodes go on the idea is that you begin to notice something.. odd. Sneaking around in the background of the videos is a Red Engineer. An Engineer that doesn’t move around like the other ragdolls do, he is well animated and moving as if he is alive. It appeared that he is trying to avoid being seen by the camera that is filming the tf2 ragdolls

As the episodes progress further you begin to notice something else too. A Blu Solder doing the same thing. Sneaking around behind the scenes trying to avoid being seen by the ragdolls and by the camera.

As the episodes go on FURTHER, eventually the Blu Soldier and the Red Engineer’s outfits change and they are seen lurking around in the background together, seemingly as a team. Time progresses and they begin to grow beards and the Engineer ends up wearing the Soldiers coat.

So about 10 episodes in, and these two have been sneaking around and have not been spotted by the dolls or the camera yet. But one fateful day on episode 11, they slip up. They end up getting too close and the camera gets a good solid look at them. The moment where they were caught was this picture.

When they were spotted, the viewer got to get a good look at them both. It is clear that the Engineer is wounded, made apparent by the blood on his clothes, his sickly pale complexion, and the fact that the Soldier is helping him stand. We also are able to see that the Soldier is wearing clothing from other mercenaries. I.E Pyros gloves and Snipers vest.

After they are spotted, the Soldier scoops up the Engineer bridal style and books it. The camera attempts to peruse them but looses them. The camera appears to get frustrated, making strange sounds and then the video ends.

In episode 12 everything is different. Its not some silly video his time. The video starts with the camera activating and staring at a wall. The camera floats closer and begins to peek through some of the slats on the wall, peering into a hidden room in one of the tf2 maps, the camera sees backpacks and weapons. It appears to be a little hide out full of supplies.  

The camera lowers to the ground and peeks through the lower slats. Its spots a wounded and sleeping Red Engineer, who is laying on some bags stuffed with who knows what on the ground.

Then foot steps could be heard. The camera pans up and tilts to the left while looking through the higher slats, its now able see a kind of hatch like door off to the side of the room. The steps get louder and louder until stopping at the door. The door creaks open and the Blu Soldier comes climbing in. He’s covered in blood and is carrying a duffle bag that resembles the one Scout wears.

The Soldier walks over to the Engineer silently and plops down beside him. He takes off his bag and sets it aside. Then the Soldier tries to gently wake up the Engineer. He softly nudges his arm with his knuckles to stir him, but the sickly looking Engineer does not wake up.

“Engie?“ The Soldier asks. He then lightly shakes his shoulder. “Wake up Engie, I brought you stuff.“ Still no response. “..Common Engie..” Concern beginning to creep its way into the edge of the Soldiers voice. He shakes him a wee bit harder, which finally wakes him up. When the Engineer finally woke up the Soldier smiled. “There you are!” He says. The Engineer mumbles something inaudible.

“I’m back! Feeling any better?” The Engineer mumbles something inaudible again, but then mumbles what sounded like a question, something about a medic? “Unfortunately the Medic blew up.” The Soldier starts. “But I did find a med kit, so its basically the same thing.” The Engineer sighs and the Soldier opens the bag and brings out a med kit. “There’s got to be some kind of pain killers in here right?” The Soldier asks. The Engineer mutters, “hopefully” in a gravely voice.

The whole time the camera is staring intently and zooming in on certain things. Like zooming in on the Soldiers bloodied shirt, and zooming in on the med kit as it is passed to the Engineer.

Soldier hands the med kit to the Engineer and begins to search through the bag some more. He takes out a round canteen filled with something, and something small wrapped in a cloth.

“Did you see anything unusual?“ The Engineer croaks. The Soldier stops. “..Sort of.. I didn’t see any movement today. They were all face down on the ground again. That’s where I found the medic, on the ground..“ The Soldier then frowns under his dented helmet. “..And I didn’t see the camera today..” The Engineer pauses making a concerned expression, but then shakes his head. He then pops some pills and chases it down with what ever liquid was in the canteen, probably water. Hopefully water. Which then prompts the Soldier to hand him the item wrapped in cloth. “So the Medic thing didn’t work out today, but hey, at least I found a Heavy!“

The Engineer unwraps the cloth to find a sandwich. A sandwich that is 100% identical to the ones Heavy makes. The Camera zooms in on the sandwich and a slight whirling sound is heard from inside the camera. The Engineer kind’a looks at it.. and then splits it in half and hands one half to the Soldier. He’s about to protest but the Engineer speaks up, “Take it, you need it.” he said in a sickly voice.

The Soldier pouts and gingerly takes the quarter sized sandwich. “..But you need it more than I do..” He laments. The Engineer pushes the Soldiers hands towards himself, encouraging him to eat it. “You haven't eaten in days Sully, I’ll be fine with just half.” He says, his voice sounding worse and more gravely.

The two of them then sit and talk for a while about their situation and what to do next as they eat. By what they are saying, it becomes clear that these two are sentient, and are the real mercenaries that somehow got transported into an sfm channel and are trying to survive. They talk about their next goal being to “wake up” a medic to tend to the Engineers injuries, and then to “continue building it”.

You see, the Engineer months ago magically woke up in this weird world all by his lonesome. He knew right away that this wasn’t his home and that these strange dolls were not his friends. So he tried to hide from them but eventually he accidentally bumped into a ragdoll Blu Soldier.

If someone from the real tf2 world touches one of these ragdolls, they turn into the real mercenary and regain their consciousness.. With only one catch.

Lets say you take a scout ragdoll and drop him from a tall building. He’ll fall but get right back up without taking any damage because haha funny whatever. But then after that what happens if a conscious mercenary touches him? He’ll wake up and become real. Which means that his legs will then instantly snap and break because his real body is feeling the damage that his ragdoll body took.

These ragdolls are used in every episode and are tossed around a lot. After waking up the Blu Soldier without incident, Engineer thought that he could just touch one of his team mates and they'd wake up. So he found a Red Sniper and grabbed his shoulder...

In which the Sniper Screamed out in pure agony and literally blew up. His ragdoll had taken so much damage that his real body just fell apart the moment he was given consciousness. The reason why the Blu Soldier didn't blow up when he was touched was because he was a newly loaded in ragdoll, he was brand new, untouched, undamaged.

Cut back to the present. The Engineer is talking about needing to find a ragdoll Medic that is undamaged, so that when the Solder touches him he wont instantly die. The Engineer trails off at the end, beginning to sound exhausted all of the sudden, Its as if simply talking is draining all of his energy. The sudden exhaustion concerns the Soldier. He reaches his hand out and places it on the Engineers arm in worry. The Engineer looks even paler than he did when he first woke up, and it seems like he is becoming very distressed. The Soldier rubs the Engineers arm gently to try and comfort him. At this point it is made very clear to the viewer that the Engineer needs a medic, and fast. 

Engineer was building a machine that might just be the key to getting them both back home.. but their progress was halted when the Engineer was somehow severely wounded. If he can just get a Medic, then maybe he could recover enough to get back to work and get them back home..

The Soldier swears to his sickly friend that he will bring him a medic, but he also apologizes for how long it might take. He mentions how its really hard to get to a medic, because the medics are always too close to the camera. At that moment the camera makes a noise outside which grabs the Soldier’s attention. The Soldier grabs his fully loaded rocket launcher off the floor and stands up, looking for a fight. The camera than takes off in the other direction and the video ends.

Now, remember that one comic I made? Well Sully went out to try and find a medic, and he almost had one!.. But then he bumped into a Red Scout, This Scout’s ragdoll body had taken damage to its arm, but he was alive. The first mercenary other than Soldier himself to be alive upon being awoken. Scouts screaming in pain grabbed the cameras attention. Sully decided that he couldn’t just leave him here, so he grabbed Scouts good arm and ran off with him, disappearing into the map somewhere.

Later on the Soldier finally manages to snag a healthy Blu Medic. Both the Scout and the Medic are filled in on what’s going on and they both understand what’s happening. The Blu Medic begins to care for the wounded Engineer and overtime he begins to recover.

Sometime later while out looking for supplies, the Red Scout runs into a Red Demoman who is surprisingly brand new and undamaged. He takes the pristine Demoman back to base and this ensues. The Engineer and Medic weren't too pleased because they were concerned about there not being enough rations to feed everyone.

So far, that is as far as the story has developed. I have considered adding more mercenaries and stuff to the team but I think that’s plenty. There's a little more to the story, like how they get food is by waking up broken heavies and looting their sandwiches off of their corpses. And how they get water is by doing the same thing to Snipers. It kind’a branches off from there but I think that’s as long as this explanation is going to be.

I hope you understood this all and it all made sense. And I hope you liked it too! Would you guys like to see more of these characters? Drop me an ask or a comment and we’ll see what happens! :}

#my response #team fortress 2 #my ocs #mentions of broken bones

[hankwritten]

TFComics Rewrite

I am currently plotting an outline for a TFComics, and I want to get my thoughts about fixes to canon and possibly get feedback. Since this is a rewrite there’s really no *spoilers* or anything, so I’m willing to answer all questions about what I plan to do. Also some characters I’m not so sure about how I want to retool them, so if your have ideas for your fav let me know!

Disclaimer:

This rewrite is intended to critique the content/choices made in the construction and telling of the Team Fortress 2 comic series. It is not a personal attack on the artists/writers/directors or any of the creatives that made contributions to this series, nor is it meant to substitute or replace the official release. This work is transformative in nature, and relies on an understanding of the source material to be understood. TF2 and its characters belong to Valve.

TFCR is working on the assumption that the audience has read the original comic, and as such will skip over scenes and plot points that are unchanged from the original. I don’t think it needs to be said, but this fanfiction will not make sense if you are not familiar with the source.

I also recognize that there are strengths within the comic’s writing and weaknesses within my own. Namely, that Valve writers are gods in the realm of comedy, and I’d rather not try to match them in the regard. As such, I will state up front that these will not be as funny as the TFComics. That is not to say there won’t be jokes (either ones transplanted from the source or some of my own) or that the tone of this will be terribly grimdark, only that my focus will be on improving story structure and character development as those are what appeal to me.

 The Broad Strokes

The goal of TFCR is to give a more engaging story for all the mercenaries we know and love, as--let’s face it--the TF2 mercs are side characters in their own damn story. These are some of the planned improvements.

There will be reason for each of the mercs to actually be there. As it stands, the motivations for almost every character besides Pauling and Saxton Hale are vague and unsatisfying. We’d usually say something along the lines of “money” for hired killers, but clearly Scout doesn’t even know if they’re getting paid, and some of the other characters are even worse. The hunt for the Australium is, therefore, boring. MacGuffins usually are, but at the very least the characters should care about the item even if the audience doesn’t. This work aims to give each of the nine mercs a motive and a reason to be in the story instead of just replaceable joke dispensers.

Explain what “Team Fortress” means, and how it relates to RED and BLU. Long and short: the nine mercenaries we see on the team are not from either RED or BLU but rotate between the two, and were the individuals selected to fight the robots. That means all things do happen to all characters. As Valve pretty much goes with “whatever is funniest at the time”, it’s very hard to make a cohesive theory about “where the hell is BLU team?”, but I’ll do my damndest. We’ll also examine Team Fortress’s relationship with the other capital T Teams, and why they’re considered the “rejects” of the bunch.

Comics 1 & 2 will be removed from the timeline as they serve no purpose, only taking what needs to be known about the plot’s setup and jumping straight to A Cold Day in Hell.

We will introduce the Classic Mercs right away so they can generate threat and play against the TF mercs when they do actually meet head to head.

We will not be killing off Gray Mann. (Not preemptively anyway.) In fact, there will be more focus on him and Olivia as villains facing off against the Admin, providing her foil as the TF2 and TFC mercs provide foils for each other.

I considered waiting until the final comic was out to begin working on this, but that may never happen. Jay Pinkerton said he may reveal what plot they had in store eventually, but considering it took Half Life over a decade to get the “I was once a Valve writer but my NDA has expired and now I can go buck wild” treatment, I’m not holding my breath. The main reason I wanted to do this is that the Administrator’s motivations are not interestingly foreshadowed, to the point where there aren’t even any good fan theories out there. That said, WritingDispenser and Riddle of the Sphinx helped come up with a pretty fun one, which was actually the inspiration for me to get off my butt and start plotting this.

There will be no queerbaiting. This refers both to HeavyMedic (which has been simultaneously used as wink wink nudge nudge joke many times and as encouragement for fans to play their stupid hat game) as well as lesbian Pauling (since femme lesbians are the preferred method for front facing LGBT representation across almost all media, but video games especially). If you need to understand why lesbian Pauling is an issue, Sarah Z coined the term “queercatching” in order to describe word of god confirmations on characters sexualities that are not followed up on in the text. I recommend the full video on it.

Due to the importance of immortality in the theming of the comics, respawn will not be a thing. Deaths we think should have happened previously will be explained as close calls, or that Medic can heal a short time after death. Medic and Scout’s deaths will be cut in the story itself, as after Sniper died and came back, them doing the same thing kinda lost their punch.

Scout

There will be no ScoutPauling hints. It doesn’t make sense to give screentime to this relationship because Valve obviously doesn’t think it’s going to go anywhere so why make Scout turn down advances from other hot women? I mean I get Expiration Date was a Thing but it feels like Scout’s whole motivation shouldn’t be reduced down to chasing a girl who doesn’t like him back.

He’s here because he lost his life’s savings in bad investments and needs the money. That’s it. Which is still somehow more than his canon motive which is question mark question mark question mark

He, Soldier, Spy, Demo, and Pyro all start the adventure with Miss Pauling.

Engages with Heavy on a genuine level when they go to collect him, Heavy doesn’t blow him off when he tries to level about dead dads.

There will be no DadSpy reveal. The way Spy treats Scout has never been “deadbeat dad feels bad about abandoning his kid” but more “this is someone I would kill without a second thought if I felt like it” which makes his reveal in comic 5 feel very disingenuous. I don’t think Valve even had this plotline in mind until comic 3, as #2 still has Spy seeming only to care about Scout’s Ma and not Scout himself. It also makes “seduce me!” retroactively weird.

Uhhh hooks up with Zhanna. This one isn’t critical I just think it’s funny.

Soldier

Soldier is going to be the Ur example of the Admin not treating her people well, as we’re going to lean into the whole “Soldier was only mildly messed up until the whole lead poisoning” thing.

He’s here because he’s blindingly loyal to the cause. He’s actually going to very little from canon because of this actually.

Might be the reason Team Fortress has a reputation of being the lower tiers of the Teams, but that doesn’t mean he’s damn good at his job. Fatal flaw is that he’s unstable, and even though the courthouse plotline won’t be in this fic, it should be noted that he actually does cause problems for the other protagonists due to his short temper. He’s a risky asset, but still essential.

There will be a minor explanation for the WAR! Comic, but I think that’s better saved for Demo’s analysis.

Pyro

Pyro is the character you could cut entirely from the comics and have the least change. Now, they’re going to be Pauling’s right hand. Let me explain.

Engineer and Pyro are implied to live together, and Pyro doesn’t have anything better to do than go with Engie after Team Fortress is disbanded. Rather than having a reveal, we will see some of what is going on with the Admin and friends early on, and see what leads up to her sending Miss P the note that kicks off the whole plot. However, while Engie needs to stay and look after her, Pyro’s skills aren’t useful here, and they are sent as a direct messenger to help Pauling.

They’re loyal, and unlike Soldier rarely mess up orders. They’re also partially mute, making them ideal for handling sensitive info. Pauling trusts them to handle the burning of “Elizabeth’s” paper trail.

Will be using they/them in the narrative voice, but other characters will refer to them as he/him. I considered going with it/its because that’s bubbled up in popularity again, but ultimately I decided against it.

We’ll get glimpses to their train of thought, but like the comics they will remain virtually silent.

Demo

Demo’s role in the cast is going to be very similar to Spy’s. The events of WAR! involved him nearly dying and Soldier taking the win, and he’s very bitter that after all those events *apparently* mercs can just be switched around teams willy nilly and don’t have to kill each other anymore. (As the audience, we know this is because the Admin found out the “make them so angry they won’t ask questions” wasn’t a long-term viable solution, and instead brought TFI forward as a neutral third party that was pretending to mediate the gravel wars.) But Demo’s suspicious, and is only along because he really has been miserable since he lost his job.

This conflict will eventually come to a head, more on that in the Sniper section.

Is fairly forgiving with his teammates. Doesn’t like Sniper but I’m willing to drop a little angst during that submarine scene. Is glad to see Medic actually. Here to be some glue to hold this merry band together.

The Eyelander will not be forgotten after 2 comics because I love this character concept and I think it was underutilized.

Drunk jokes will be kept to a minimum. What I liked about WAR! and Bombinomicon was that it took Demo and showed that they knew how to make him funny without making him one note, which they sort of did in the early TFComics but stopped in the later ones in favor of him….being asleep for the whole plot. I promise 100% awake Demo in my rewrite.

Demo likes Pauling on a personal level, but has trouble reconciling her with his feelings on TFI.

Doesn’t get knocked out by moonshine because. Seriously? Poisoning the Demoman with alcohol? In what world does that work.

Heavy

Not too much to change. Scout doesn’t accompany him when he goes to look for the secret Australium cache, and he engages with Mags and Saxton (which will be when the audience finds out what they’ve been up to) and actually cares about what’s going on with them. He thinks Darling is up to something. Which he is, he’s attempting to unseat both Gray and Helen due to long family history.

Will at least mention Medic. Their reunion falls a little flat since it mostly relies on Meet the Medic for context, as they don’t really interact in the comic. There can be a bit of a flashback to what it was like as all these mercs broke up.

I know uhhh Valve seems to think found family is really dumb, and that these murderers could ever like each other is silly or something, but the mercs do? Like each other? For the most part anyways. 

Bronislava and Yana come alone for adventures, not just Zhanna. Again, no real reason, but sometimes I get to have tacky fanfic stuff in my own fanfic because I Wanna.

Engineer

Engie ruminates on his family history of allowing all this bullshit to happen and just kind of shrugging. Basically Moss’s analysis of the Conagher themes.

Has put a lot of time, sweat, and tears into BLU and now TFI, isn’t willing to let it fall now, even if Admin is basically living on borrowed time. He’s doing this because of the ‘ole sunk cost fallacy.

Also we get to see more of Pauling and Admin’s relationship through his eyes.

Medic

Congrats on being the one merc with an actual arc, Medic! As a reward, you will not be changed much.

I’m actually going to use Medic’s section to say that the Classic mercs will be referred to by their first names in order to differentiate them, and we’ll get little previews of what they’re like from Medic’s perspective before we actually see them fight Team fortress. The battle at the submarine will be more of a fight in this sense, working it out so it seems like surrender is the only option after Sniper is killed.

Final fight with Cheavy will be...not blocked so awkwardly. I mean this is now a textual medium so my work is already halfway done, but still the pacing is so weird. Shudder.

Sniper

These are the big guns. Most changes, even more than Demo. He’s been actually hunting for New Zealand/the Australium cache on his own, and doesn’t want Pauling interfering, saying for a he knows she could have been the ones to kill his adoptive parents.

(She hasn’t, but the Admin did actually order them killed in an attempt to stop Sniper because she thought she could prevent the exact thing that is going on right now which is that Sniper is considering trying to get at it.)

Sniper doesn’t know this, but Pauling, Demo, and Spy eventually convince him to share his findings and help them get to New Zealand.

Spy

Similar to Demo but is less conflicted about it. He knows just because he likes someone doesn’t mean he won’t have to kill them later. 

Spy knows about who killed Sniper’s parents, and tells Demo, sort of as a test to see where his loyalties lie. He also knows that Pyro is Pauling’s confidant for certain things.

Demo questions him about what he’s doing here, whose side he’s really on. But you know. Spy is Spy and he was never really on anyone’s side but his own. When it comes down to it, it might be exactly as Scout thinks: that he’s ditched them all and run off when he had the opportunity. But, big damn hero, comes back in the end.

He’s here mainly to “keep an eye on things.” Also maybe because his gf asked him to keep an eye on her son :)

#tf comics rewrite #tf2 meta

[fuckyeahscienceparty]

Writing prompt: rival teams, Engineer finds the enemy Medic injured and waiting for recovery, instead of going for the killing blow he lets him wait for the respawning medikit and pretends to have not seen him

tweaked this one just a little, hope that's ok! might post this on ao3 later, i actually ended up liking it more than i though i would :0

-

Stalemate

A moment of fear. A chance untaken. Just your normal, everyday(ish) encounter in the Badlands.

-

A chorus of bullets and rockets rang through the air as one RED Engineer wiped the sweat from his brow with his one free hand.

It'd been a rough day. Another case of RED and BLU ping ponging between capturing the same point, neither having managed to capture all 5 for least 3 hours, much to Everyone's dismay. Engie himself had had his entire nest blown up twice, mowed down by an ubercharged Heavy once, and had gone through respawn at least 7 different times.

Needless to say, it hadn't been ideal, and getting a level 3 sentry up with no dispenser at his disposal was no easy feat. (It'd gotten smashed up as soon as he started setting up the sentry. Go figure.)

But enough mulling over the past. The present was now, and presently? BLU was still frantically trying to make their 5th repush for control point #3 and he didn't want to make it any easier for them.

He scanned the battlefield for a certain friendly face, attention grabbed by a muffled, triumphant yell and the faint smell of kerosene.

"Hey, Py, you got a moment?" He called out to them, the arsonist in question turning their head when they'd heard their name.

Upon seeing Engie, they gleefully trotted over, slinging their flamethrower over their back in favor for their shotgun.

"Mrr, hurr uhr?"

"I'm outta metal and I need a dispenser but I don't wanna leave the ol' girl out here by herself. Think you could cover her for me for a few minutes?" He grinned apologetically, lightly tapping his sentry a few times with his wrench as it proceeded to murder BLU's own Pyro in cold blood. They gave him a thumbs up

"Hhur, urr hurrf!"

"Much appreciated, buddy. I'll be back as quick as I can!" He yelled out over his shoulder as he started jogging toward where he was vaguely sure the closest (and biggest) ammo box was, wrench still in hand as he made his way up the creaky wooden steps and into the barren, wooden shed.

"Ammo, ammo... where on Earth is that damn box..." Engie frowned to himself, hoping that this building even HAD an ammo box and didn't just have like... a giant health kit in it.

Yes, he knows he should've memorized where resupply points were by now, but give him a break, they'd all been fighting in the blazing New Mexico sun for hours with no end in sight. Everyone was getting pretty frazzled at that point.

He was honestly getting ready to just give up and go looking for another one, not wanting to keep Pyro waiting for too long. RED still had a fight to win, after all, and they needed as many people bullying BLU for their control points as they could get.

That is.. until he heard a startled gasp as he stepped into the last room in the building. Panic rose in him as he put his hand over his pistol, turning his back to the wall to see... a rather injured BLU Medic.

Ok, 'rather' was a bit LOT of an understatement. From what he could tell, the Medic in question had some rather nasty looking gashes in his right arm and abdomen, as well as several different bruises and cuts that implied he'd been in a pretty brutal fight. There was literally no way he had more than say... 20 health points, give or take.

And he seemed to be in the middle of (attempting) to patch himself up just as Engie had entered the room, frantically reaching over for his Crossbow and color draining from his face as he aimed it at his newfound enemy. Engie braced himself for the incoming syringe, putting his gloved hand in front of his face as some sort of shield when...

Click. Click. Click...

"...Seiße."

Engie turned back around in time to see him close his eyes and let out a wheeze of defeat, slumping against the wall behind him as both his arms dropped to the floor.

"Please, just... make it quick," He croaked, more blood dribbling out of the side of his mouth and onto his already sullied coat.

A bullet to the head and all of this would've been over. A solid wack with his wrench would've done the same job. Hell, he was pretty sure he could shoot the wall NEXT to this man and he'd just about keel over.

But something about seeing BLU's Medic so... defeated, so vulnerable, made something in him... hesitate.

So he left. Just plain hightailed it out of there, leaving a completely confused enemy healer in his wake.

By the time he was able to find a full box of ammo, he could feel his heart about to beat out of his chest. Whether that was out of fear, adrenaline, or something... else, he couldn't say.

When Pyro saw him returning, they'd waved to him, the Homewrecker in hand and a broken sapper at their feet.

"Hrr! Hurr huuf hur ffo mrrg?"

"Oh uh.. I got a little lost. All this sun is makin' my head spin. Sorry Py, I didn't mean to keep you," He chuckled sheepishly. He could feel them raising an eyebrow at him through their gas mask but they shrugged it off, getting their flamethrower out again.

"Drr hur frrr mrrd mrr?"

"Naw, you're free to go bud. Thanks again for your help!" Engie grinned, Pyro giving another thumbs up before turning and charging into the fray.

As Engie opened up his tool box and started getting his dispenser up, he couldn't help but start thinking about his... encounter with BLU Medic again, pausing only to shoot his pistol at a Scout that had somehow managed to evade his sentry's range of fire.

He couldn't remember a time he'd hesitated like that before. Even when he was first starting out, he knew his job included a rather hard and fast "shoot people first, ask questions later" guideline, it really wasn't like him to not take such an easy kill.

'It was just wanting to get back to Pyro before things got ugly,' he thought to himself. 'Wasn't good to ask a teammate for a favor and make them wait for you when they could be out causing havoc, after all.'

But deep down, he couldn't help but think it was more than that, which was a terrifying thought in and of itself.

So he pushed it aside, focusing on keeping his wits about him and his machines up and running. And if he paused every once in a while to see if he could spot a bloody blue lab coat and tousled hair curl in the sea of bullets and gunpowder before him?...

...well that wasn't anything anyone else needed to know about.

#tf2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 science party #medic x engineer #fic #c's writing #l-i-n-u-s-k-a #asks

[vibingintheritzcar]

Jumping The Gun

Plot : Spencer is a little intimidated, a little impressed but mostly worried for your well being when you exhibit dangerous, albeit badass, moves on the field.

Category : Neutral, minor fluff and angst

MASTERLIST

. . .

“𝙄’𝙢 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚. 𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣’𝙩.”

. . .

“Y/N, he’s heading left! Towards you!” Morgan’s yell in your ear immediately turned your feet to sprint towards the right to meet the unsub half way.

Having to use your arms to speed up your pace meant your revolver wasn’t at ready but close and available. However, the milliseconds it would take to aim it could mean life or death.

Those milliseconds were already calculated by the teams resident genius, who always found himself worried about your and Morgan’s well being. You two were the resident, as the doctor put it, “I’m gonna run into oncoming traffic because I can.”

That’s exactly what you were doing in that moment, and far behind, Spencer felt his heart drop seeing you almost carelessly run across the street, Morgan probably somewhere down the road doing the same.

Your heart pounded in your ears, yet you could barely hear yourself breathe. Sweat beaded on your forehead but didn’t last long as the wind from your run would blow it away.

Sounds of horns honking would scream and then cease seeing your vest and the chase. However the unsub and you quickly began a game as you both maneuvered through the four lanes.

In a moment of a predictiment, a moment Spencer dreaded and Immediately thought of multiple outcomes for, you were cut off by a car slamming on its breaks right in front of you.

Of course, in the movies, the protagonist would slide over the front. However, this wasn’t the movies, and your FBI vest would most likely get caught.

So, you simply took a large leap ontop of the hood and sped across, ignoring the cry of the civilian in the front seat.

Spencer wanted to stop and let out a cry of “what the fuck, Y/N?” But knew it had to wait till everyone was secure. He was in shape, but didn’t have the same determination to keep his adrenaline going as you had. He continued anyway, a different goal in mind.

“I’ve got him cornered!” You called out to the team in your mic, somehow barely out of breath. Your heart pounded in your throat as you aimed your gun at him at the end of the alleyway. “Put your hands up!” You roared, “get down on the ground!”

Ignoring the fact your demands would piece the ears of your teammates, you advanced slowly on the perpetrator, watching as he put his hands up and behind his head. “Get on the ground! I said get on the ground!”

His eyes showed the challenge still inside of him, something you noticed too late as you advanced too close. Lunging forwards, he attempted to reach for your weapon.

Throwing yourself to the side, you caught his arm with the barrel, slamming it down on the inner of his elbow, effectively creasing his arm and causing him to loose his balance. The struggle was heard over the mic, causing everyone to speed up to the scene.

“Bastard!” You cried as he used his free arm to drag you to the floor with him. Your weapon went sliding down the alleyway, two pairs of eyes set on it.

He began to crawl for it but you pushed yourself up and tackled him once more, flipping him onto his back. He was well built and furious, two things that never mixed well.

Somersaulting over him to your weapon, you slid in to grab it before he got to his feet. It was in your possession for all but five seconds before he was advancing on you again.

No one knew who had the upper hand in the situation, and when the next few gunshots rang out, they all felt their blood run cold.

Spencer felt the urge to puke before your voice came on. “I’m good. Unsub down, though. Still alive.” You wheezed our the words a little, causing Spencer more concern. “I’m good,” you repeated.”

Spencer was growling words to himself the whole time when the team regrouped, refusing eye contact with you. You knew that attitude meant a “we’ll talk later” and rolled your eyes, more focused on the dull ache in your side.

Immediately back at the BAU headquarters you made your best efforts to leave before Spencer had a chance alone with you, exhausted and sore, you wanted to get home before midnight and not deal with him.

You almost got to the elevator, dreaming of a hot shower and cool bed shoots, when a throat cleared. “Y/N.”

Stifling a sigh, you turned to look at the man behind you, arms crossed, normally calm face contorted in seriousness. “Spencer,” you replied casually. “Goodnight?”

“Sit.” Was all he said, and you sighed, rolling your eyes as you took a seat in the nearest spare chair, already anticipating the next conversation. “What you did today was extremely -“

“Dangerous? Stupid? Non thorough? Not well thought out? What is it this time, Spence?” You leaned back in the chair, watching him grow more irritated.

“I don’t get it. You know everytime you do something irrational, expect the lecture, and do it anyway. Why?” You scoffed, leaning forwards.

“Because I’m not gonna stop doing what I do best because you’re worried I’ll get hurt, Spencer. Does it look like I’m hurt?” His gaze turned flat as you attempted to show you were okay.

“You’ve been holding your side ever since, Y/N, don’t think I didn’t notice.” You sucked in a breath and went silent, unable to come up with a good remark. He sighed, “stand up, please, let me see.”

Unable to resist his politeness and wanting to show that you were okay, you did as told, fully expecting your skin to be your normal shade of flesh. His eyes widened as your shirt lifted, and you smirked, hoping maybe he just got a glimpse of your chest and got flustered.

Your smirk fell into an ‘o’ shape when you followed his gaze to see that a nasty dark bruise covered most of your side. You must’ve gotten it somewhere along the chase or the struggle. “How did that get there?”

Your joke fell flatter then his expression. “This is why I get so worked up,” he said in a genuinely worried yet agitated tone, coming closer to get a better look. “This is bad. It could’ve been worse. You almost got hit by half a dozen cars.”

“But I didn’t,” you reiterated, “I know what I’m doing. I trained for this. Derek did the same thing, why are you not on his ass?”

“I was on his ass earlier,” he retorted, “now it’s your turn. I’ll be honest, I am heavier on you but that’s because. . .” His words drifted away as he pressed his lips together, averting his eyes back to your side.

Your eyes narrowed. “Because why, Spencer?” To cover his mistake, he brushed his fingers over your bruise, “answer me-“

You seethed out in pain, wincing viciously, when a surge of pain went through you. Spencer’s eyes widened as he too jumped back, then his face heavier with guilt.

“Damnit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! Please, stay here, I’ll get some ice and maybe a medic. It’s possible you bruised a rib or something -“

You grabbed his arm to stop him from moving, roughly shoving down your shirt but immediately regretting it when another snap of pain came. “I’m fine, Spencer,” you said through gritted teeth.

“No you’re not,” he snapped back, meeting your eyes seriously. He was hardly confrontational, but for some reason, he had absolutely no worries when it came to you sometimes. “Don’t pretend like you are. I’d rather you admit you’re hurt then pretend you’re not.”

“Why? So you can shove it into my face and prove yourself right, that I get myself hurt everytime?” You scoffed, body heating up with anger. “God, Reid, I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. I do my job. I get the bad guy. I stop him from getting away. Where’s the bad in that?”

“The bad is that while doing so you’re putting your life at risk and taking unnecessary risks! Not every raid has to end up with you hurt or you alone and in a struggle, Y/N?” His eyes danced with a controlled anger. His temper was well kept.

“That’s the job, Spencer!” You spat back in a tired tone. “What do you want me to do, desk work?”

“I want you to be more precautious! You didn’t look at traffic once today. If I saw you glance one time I wouldn’t be doing this right now.” His focus on you made your chest react in an odd mix of ways, and because of that confusion, you resorted to anger to sort it through.

“Why does it matter?” He appeared taken aback. “More specifically, why does it matter to you? Hotch doesn’t even reprimand me this much! I just want to do my job and not fear you telling me off when I just want to go home!”

“Well, maybe Hotch doesn’t care like I do!” Your eyes widened but Spencer was too in the moment to notice his words. “Maybe Hotch doesn’t go to bed every night this happens thinking about the ways you could’ve gotten hurt or killed that day, unable to sleep.”

You felt like the wind was taken out of you. Taking a step back to try and force yourself back into reality, Spencer took in a few breaths after his outburst. “Why - why does this worry you so much, Spencer? And why can’t you let it go?”

“𝙄’𝙢 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚. 𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣’𝙩.”

He just wouldn’t stop taking you by surprise. Your eye brows raised, your body forgetting the pain in your side for this time being. “Do I even have to ask why or can you just explain?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The more timid and vulnerable side of him you were used too slowly started to fine back out. “I think about you too much, Y/N, not even including the times where I’m terrified for your well being. I don’t know how to describe it. But all I know is everytime I see you running towards danger all I can think about is the fact that it might be the last time I ever see you. And god, I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you like that.”

Before you get the chance to respond, let alone let the words sink in, he moves closer again. “May I?” He asks, hand by your shirt.

You nod, unable to form words. Gently, he raises your shirt up again to expose your purple and blued skin. He closes his eyes tightly like it hurts him too.

“You see this? This may not be a bullet or a stab wound but god, this kills me, Y/N. I hate seeing you in pain more then I hate pain itself. And the next time who’s to say it won’t be a bullet? And then where would we be, where would I be?” His eyes hold a absolute heart wrenching plea.

“I . . What is it you really want to tell me, Spencer? This isn’t just about me getting hurt.” You could see this because he didn’t even try to hide it. He was too distraught to attempt to do so.

“I want to tell you that I want to take you out for a coffee, or dinner, or lunch, whatever you like. And the fact that one day I might never be able to do that sickens me. And I’m tired of going to bed thinking about you bleeding out in my arm, Y/N, just please try and understand that.”

You shut your eyes, his broken tone hurting your soul. You imagine Spencer in your arms, bleeding, hurt, and dying. The fake pain in his eyes and face making you snap out of it almost instantly, unable to handle it.

Your open your eyes to his again, and let out a sigh. “I see your point. I know, Spence, it’s not like I want to die like that it’s just. . Once I’m in the situation my mind goes blank and all I focus on is getting to him, y’know?”

He licks his bottom lip, a horrible habit. “I get that. I’m not asking you to stand back and watch. I’m just asking that you make yourself think of the risks and weight out the situation before you dive head first. Your feet can’t move without a signal from your brain.”

“God, I hate it when you bring out your intelligence on me.” He chuckles, smiling shyly. You look at him for a moment and your heart swells, not for a second forgetting the propositions he just made. You couldn’t let him be worried like that, much less stress over you. And he was right, you had to be more mindful of your own safely. “Alright, you got me. I won’t stop chasing but I will use my brain, okay, genius? And I’ll be safer so you can get the chance to take me out for breakfast.”

His eyes widened and you broke out to a grin. “Breakfast? That wasn’t on the list.”

“I know; but breakfast has the best meals.” A pink blush spreads across his cheeks as he smiles himself, looking adorably flustered. “Just stay off my ass a little bit and I promise I’ll work on myself.”

“Good. Thank you. Now, come on, let me look at this a little bit,” he motions to your side, “just to make sure it’s only a bruise. And then I can send you home and then tomrorow we can discuss breakfast, is that a deal, Y/N?”

You smile, already picturing the French toast and waffles. “Okay, Doctor reid, I’m all yours.”

. . .

#mgg #criminal minds #spencer x reader #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #doctor reid #reid #dr reid #spencer reid fluff

[marshmallowgoop]

Kill la Kill Books!

Got a small haul of Kill la Kill books the other day!

SUSHIO CLUB LOVE LOVE KLKL has been a glaring omission from my collection, so when I saw a listing of the book for 3,600 yen—which usually goes for 10,000+ these days—I bought it right away.

And I figured I might as well pick up a few more things while I was at it, right? To make the shipping more cost effective?

That’s definitely the only reason.

But anyway, my growing mass of Kill la Kill books and magazines has now reached 36 items.

And I’ve talked about some of this merch before; you can find my post about the Febri volume 21 issue here, my post about Fractal 10 here, my post about the Talking About Composite books, The Complete Script Book, and The Art of KLK Vol. 3 here (and I have a whole tag for the script book, #klk-script-book), and I yammer on about the nine Blu-ray key art collection and artboard books here. I also have several essays discussing the official manga adaptation: 

Kill la Kill Manga Chapter 7

Kill la Kill Manga Volume 3, Chapters 8-17: Thoughts and Impressions

Kill la Kill Manga Volume 3: Translation Notes, Anime Differences

Kill la Kill Manga Volume 3: Worth it?

Manga Differences

And now, I wanna briefly (lol) yap about the six new additions to my collection.

Because I have a lot of love in my heart for this ridiculous, ridiculous anime.

SUSHIO CLUB LOVE LOVE KLKL

So, I got this book for cheap because it was allegedly in poor shape and “not suitable for collection.”

(My reaction to “not suitable for collection” is always, “It’s suitable for my garbage collection! I’ll give your ‘ugly’ copies a loving home!”)

But, like? There are a couple of dents and folded corners, but the condition is really not bad at all. The art is completely intact and beautiful.

Sushio—who is the character designer for Kill la Kill—has shared much of this book on his Twitter, and I would definitely recommend fans of the series to scroll through his photos and have a look. There’s such a cute, sweet charm to Sushio’s work, and along with the polished, colored pages from LOVE LOVE that he shares online, he also shares sketches of his own fanart for the series, too.

(Okay, maybe this isn’t exactly the best demonstration of Sushio’s absolutely precious artwork, but. It’s one of my favorites from the book. Ryuko resorting to such wild extremes to be with Senketsu again is just. My heart. Kill la Kill is actually adorable.)

In any case, I don’t think any of the content in LOVE LOVE was new to me, but there’s just really something about having the book in my hands. I know there’s such a strong desire for digital media these days, but call me old-fashioned—there’s nothing quite like holding this art and really seeing every stroke and line in person.

Being able to physically flip through the pages also makes me notice things I didn’t before. For instance, I found myself charmed by the little detail of Barazo, Mako’s father, loving and adoring Sukuyo, Mako’s mother.

I mean, aw? It’s stuff like this that really makes me wish Kill la Kill were a kids’ show (as Sushio himself seemed to want!) Barazo is so much more likeable when there aren’t any signs of his less-than-pleasant behavior and he’s a loving, supportive husband and father.

Seriously!

Another thing I notice from having the book now is the order in which the pages are organized. Like, I couldn’t help but be amused about how Ryuko gets her own page here...

(Smiling for her Starketsu in the sky, right? Just like he asks her to in “Till I Die”?)

...and then the next pages have Satsuki beside Nonon and Mako (and Mataro) beside Ira...

...which strikes me as a bit funny because this isn’t exactly how Sushio organized his Tweets of these images. There, Satsuki was next to Ryuko, Nonon was next to no one, Mako and Mataro were next to Ira, and Uzu was next to Houka:

So, in LOVE LOVE, is Sushio deliberately trying to say something with the changed placement? Especially when it comes to the direction of the ladies’ eyes? 

Yeah???

I kid, I kid.

(But really, it looks much better to give Ryuko her own page and not have Nonon standing next to nobody.)

Also, one of the first things that popped out to me about LOVE LOVE is how Senketsu’s pages are right next to Ryuko’s pages. As they should be.

They belong together, okay?!

And speaking of Senketsu and Ryuko, I remember a comment years back that said you could probably find pics of your OTP with matching expressions in this book.

But, uh. Just compare Senketsu posing to Ryuko posing...

They’re kind of different types of people, lol.

But hey, they do both make cute sneezy faces.

As a final note about my copy of LOVE LOVE, I will say that my only disappointment is that I received the version with print errors. As such, this page of Nui...

...was accidentally printed twice, and I miss out on this page of Nui as a result:

There are also some minor goofs, like Mako’s arm getting cut off by the background here:

But considering I got this beautiful thing for only 3,600 yen, I really can’t complain!

Now I just need Sushiotan 2 to complete my Sushio Kill la Kill doujin collection....

Takepro

This charming little volume is a collection of animator fanart for the show (and other shows). The book includes a short profile for each featured artist, and their big Kill la Kill pieces are—like all titles in Kill la Kill—named after classic Japanese pop songs. You can read and see more about Takepro here.

It’s hard to pick favorites from this doujin because there is so much adorable and wonderful artwork, but I especially love Naoki Takeda’s “ここに幸あり,” or “Here is My Happiness,” named after the song by Yoshitsu Ootsu.

The picture features Ryuko, Mako, and Satsuki sitting together, all having a good time, and there’s just something so sweet about seeing happy Satsuki.

I also found an English translation of the song’s lyrics, courtesy of beast-senior 810:

The storm breaks and the rain falls Thorny as the women's path might be I would still keep on living with you And my happiness is here in the blue sky 

I could not tell anybody of my scars A bird of love that resided in my chest If only I wander about crying and evading A sorrowful night wind will blow through the streets 

I call out your name from the bottom of my heart Who will be awaiting me at the end of the echoes? Snuggle up to you and cheerfully look up to your face And my happiness is here in the white clouds 

Aw. This song is so Satsuki.

And speaking of Satsuki, I can’t get over how cute she and Ryuko look on the cover of this book. Like??

Aw! 

I also am quite fond of a small piece by Syuichi Iseki, which is in a super-deformed style and features Satsuki comforting Nonon after her uniform is destroyed during the Naturals Election. Nonon cries, and Satsuki pats her head. In the background, Ira looks distressed at the display, Houka seems to be deciphering it, and Mako smiles. It’s really, really cute.

Yoshie Endo’s “僕笑っちゃいます,” or “I’m Laughing,” named for the song by Shingo Kazami, is also real cute. It depicts Mataro holding up Guts, who licks his face. It’s another one of those, “I-so-wish-Kill-la-Kill-were-a-kids’-show” kinda pieces....

Hiroyuki Imaishi’s Doujin

Admittedly, I don’t actually know the title of this one, but it’s a very small doujin by Kill la Kill director Hiroyuki Imaishi. There isn’t too much Kill la Kill content, but there are two pages of Ryuko and Satsuki in their respective Kamui, accompanied by some text.

I thought the text might be something about the show, but it seems like it’s actually about Imaishi’s experience working on the show. And... it’s rather sad? He talks about how he’s able to accomplish more now, but he also has to consider a lot more as well, and he doesn’t have the time and energy that he used to. It’s a lot about aging and growing old.

At least, I think that’s what’s being communicated. Here’s a transcription, though:

なんだろう。

初会社役員とか。

昔よりやれることは増えたが考えなきゃいけないことも増えて時間と体力は足りなくなっていく。

年相応とも言える。

だけどいつまでも大人気なく生きていきたいものだ。

One last interesting thing about this doujin is the material it’s made from; it’s different than any other book in my collection. I’m not an artist, so forgive me if I sound totally ignorant here, but the paper reminds me watercolor paper. It definitely took me by surprise!

SL Sketch 3

SL Sketch 3 is a small fan doujin by Buzin. You can find most of the art in this book on their Tumblr!

Sketch 3 is a really fun collection of sketches, and I especially love the cover. I’m so desperate for art where Senketsu is acknowledged as an actual person that I’m just all heart eyes over Ryuko smiling at him here.

March 2014 Newtype

Okay, so this one’s really a magazine, not a book, but wow. I was taken aback by what’s inside!

I’ll definitely have to look at this issue in more depth because there are a bunch of Kill la Kill goodies in here that I didn’t even expect. And I don’t think most of it has been translated at all!

I also realized that I’ve been mixing up my Newtypes and will have to fix my resources page. But on the bright side, there is so much to love about this issue.

Like, the Elite Four Light Novel got reprinted in the Kamui Bansho, but it’s way better here because it has pictures!

I also love how Nonon, out of all the Elite Four, is the only one who stands beside Satsuki in these illustrations.

And I don’t even know what this is (VR or something with Ami Koshimizu, Ryuko’s VA?), but it’s cute and got me smiling:

And Ryo Akizuki, the mangaka for the official Kill la Kill manga, made a small comic about his experience working on the project. I like the little title panel with Ryuko, Senketsu, and Mako a lot:

Plus, there’s a shiny ad for the manga’s second volume, too:

One of the things that most caught my interest, though, is an article about the second opening song for Kill la Kill, GARNiDELiA’s “ambiguous”:

I got so curious about this bit because I’ve heard varying, conflicting information regarding the meaning behind the song’s lyrics. On the one hand, I’ve heard that half of the song is from Ryuko to Senketsu, and the other half is from Satsuki to Ryuko. On the other hand, I’ve heard that the whole song is from Satsuki to Ryuko. But I’ve never found any concrete sources for either of these claims!

So, I was hoping the Newtype article would help, but it’ll take a lot more digging into. Still, briefly looking over the page, I did find this bit: 

そんな私の思いと歌詞が一致しました。 『キルラキル』でいう流子ちゃんと神衣・鮮血の関係に近いかもしれませんね。 

Roughly, it says, “As such, my thoughts about the song agreed with its lyrics. You might say it’s like the relationship between Ryuko and Kamui Senketsu in Kill la Kill.”

I’m not totally sure about the context here—and I admittedly don’t even know the author’s involvement in the making of "ambiguous”—but this article might explain where the Ryuko-and-Senketsu reading of the song came from. It’s definitely something I’d like to delve into more.

Because I really love the Ryuko-and-Senketsu reading of the song, okay, and I’d love some actually official backup for it!

Finally, another favorite part of the Newtype is simply all the art. Takafumi Hori’s spread is particularly great:

(You can find a cleaner image here.)

Just... dang. I wish I got a little poster of this instead of the ones actually included in the Newtype! The artwork is just stunning.

And one of the cutest things about the Newtype is all the fanart from its readers! I particularly love the little Valentine’s Day special; there’s an illustration of Ryuko giving Senketsu chocolate, and there’s also a Ryumako piece, too!

Kill la Kill Storyboard Ep. 01

Finally, one of my favorites from this haul is the Kill la Kill Storyboard Ep. 01. The book was included as a shop bonus for the original Japanese Blu-ray/DVD release, though I was able to win it by itself in an auction. I do think I overpaid a bit, but gosh, it’s a lovely addition to my collection. It’s just really neat to see the production process of an anime in action. I wish there were storyboard books for every episode in the show!

Hiroyuki Imaishi’s storyboards are also just super amusing. Here is a small sampling of some of my faves (because there is so much gold in here, my goodness):

And that’s all for now!

...I guess this really wasn’t so brief at all, huh?

Shocker.

#kill la kill #klk official art #sushio #hiroyuki imaishi #sushio club love love klkl #takepro #sl sketch 3 #newtype #klk storyboard ep. 01 #naoki takeda #syuichi iseki #yoshie endo #buzin #ryo akizuki #takafumi hori #video #music #ramblings #long post #blood #i still have to pick all my books up off the floor....

[not-close-to-straight]

Secret Santa Shenanigans (Stuckony)(One)

This one is for @ceealaina who wanted Stuckony falling in love at Christmastime. This is a news station au featuring super hot weatherman Bucky Barnes, goofy sports reporter Steve Rogers, and station manager Tony who is just done with all of their shenanigans. 

PART TWO 

******************

“Well that’s it for weather today.” The screen behind Bucky faded to a calm outdoor scene and he turned towards camera three. “Looks like snow which looks like a whole lotta fun, so stay warm, New York.”

His signature closing— a crooked grin and charming wink that never failed to make any and all women in the room swoon just a little bit— and the camera swung back towards the sports desk, pausing at Steve while the big blonde sent Bucky a look and asked, “Isn’t it nice to have such a perky weatherman? What on earth would we here at Channel 8 do if Bucky had gone to college instead of deciding to pointing at fluffy clouds on the screen all day?”

“Oh I dunno, Stevie.” Bucky shot back without ever breaking eye contact with the camera or losing his benign smile. “What would we do if your phone didn’t let you Google sports stats right before you announce them on TV?”

“Thank you, Steve and Bucky!” Sam interrupted, and the camera panned to the main anchors desk. “Always love that winter weather report with Bucky Barnes, everyone stay tuned for Sports—“

“I think you mean Google!” Bucky called from off-camera. “Right? You mean Google?”

“Sports with Steve Rogers.” Sam’s left eye twitched a little but that professional smile didn’t budge an inch. “This is Channel 8 news, we’ll be right back.”

“We’re clear!” Someone shouted as the broadcast went to commercial and the news team relaxed for all of five seconds before the station manager headed their way.

“Sam, beautiful as always but you got a little schmutz right here.” Tony pointed at Sam’s cheek and news anchor snapped his fingers for make-up. “Pepper darling, I love your blouse, you look fantastic in pale purple, but you’re sort of disappearing on camera, maybe a scarf?”

“I have one in my bag!” The co-anchor said brightly and Tony blew her a kiss before moving on to the more problematic members of the Channel Eight news team.

“Bucky.” He said with a sigh and the brunette turned around with a smile that had no business being so flirty.

“Tony.” Bucky looked the station manager over in interest, lingering over the way the red shirt fit across his shoulders before eyeing the flattering cut of the black trousers. “How you doin’? How come you only come over lookin’ like you’re gonna get me in trouble, you ever thought ‘bout comin’ over just to say hi?”

“You’re not in trouble, I just have a quick note before we go back on air?” Tony steadfastly ignored the urge to flirt back with the gorgeous weatherman, despite the way Bucky’s grin bordered on indecent. “Stop blowing bubbles with your gum, it’s distracting and it interferes with the audio when you pop them.”

“I got a fan letter last week saying blowing bubbles gave me an impish charm!” Bucky protested. “My viewers expect me to be cute and playful, how’s a man gonna be cute and playful without blowing bubbles?”

“Your viewers also expect you to know how to tell the weather forecast.” Steve sauntered over from the sports desk and gave Tony an equally interested once over before sidling close enough to pat Bucky on the ass. “But we forgive your lack of brains because you’re just so gosh darn adorable.”

“Rogers, for someone who has obviously take steroids for years in an attempt to look even somewhat athletic, you’d think you would know that basketball has fouls not penalties.” Bucky retorted, smacking Steve’s hand away from his rear. “But we’ll forgive that because you’re so gosh darn All American.”

“Okay okay okay and also.” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Things are less strict here at Channel 8 than the other stations, and for the most part I love it. I know all the flirty crap you guys do on air makes our viewers fan girl or whatever, and our ratings are sky high and we are one of the highest watched broadcasts in the state--”

“Not hearing a complaint, Tony.” Steve said easily, reaching out to grope Bucky again and getting flat out rejected by an elbow to the gut. “Ooph, easy on the goods, doll.”

“Ain’t nothin’ good bout you, punk.” Bucky muttered, and pushed his hair out of his eyes to ask, “What were you gonna say, Tony?”

“Bucky.” Tony pointed a stern finger at him. “You cannot call Steve out during a live broadcast for having to google the stats. And Steve--” pointing at the big blonde. “For the love of all that is holy stop googling stats while we’re on the air!”

“Sorry, Tony.” Bucky muttered, folding his arms petulantly and Steve echoed, “Yeah, sorry Tony.”

“Moving on.” Tony cleared his throat loudly when it looked like Steve was going to lean in and kiss Bucky right there in front of him. “Please stop doing that, thank you. Alright, the Secret Santa name exchange is happening after the broadcast so make sure you stick around, yeah?”

“Oh sure thing, sweet thing.” Bucky winked and Tony hated himself for blushing. “I’ll stick around for you.”

“Anything you want, Tony.” Steve deepened his voice until Tony blushed harder and they both laughed as the station manager cursed and stomped away.

“Make sure you get my name for Secret Santa.” Steve said then. “I need a new blu ray player.”

Bucky snorted, “If I pull your name for Secret Santa, I’ll jump off the building. Ain’t buying you shit.”

“But then you’ll come over right?” Steve goaded. “Right? Gonna jump off the building and then come over so I can pound that ass into the--”

“THE MICS ARE ON GENTLEMEN!” Tony shouted from the back of the room and over at the main desk, Pepper started laughing.

“Ugh.” Bucky covered the mic on his shirt with one hand and lowered his voice. “Yes, Steve after I jump off the building, I’ll come over for some pounding.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Steve grinned at him. “Coming in for an inappropriate work kiss, too fast, you can’t stop me!” he smacked a loud kiss on Bucky’s cheek and then jogged back to his desk as the countdown to get back on the air began.

Bucky rolled his eyes in the general direction of the sports desk and the ridiculously hot blonde that was his sometimes-booty-call and wondered how hard it really would be to get Steve’s name for Christmas. He didn't know if a new blu-ray player was exactly on the list, but he’d like to get Steve something...something that maybe said they should move from just hooking up to something a little more serious.

Steve sat back behind his desk and sorted his notes for his sports segment, side-eyeing his almost boyfriend and thinking about the very expensive watch he’d bought a month ago and then hid in his top drawer because he was a damn coward and didn’t know how to pretend the gift was just platonic, when in fact it was anything but platonic.

Maybe he could ask Tony to give him Bucky’s name for Secret Santa and then the gift wouldn’t seem so extravagant and out of the blue.

As the countdown ended and the camera zoomed in on Sam for a recap of the news so far, both Steve and Bucky peered past the cameras to keep an eye on the too-cute-for-his-own-good station manager and secretly hoped they’d each get his name too.

Then, in Steve’s earpiece-- “Steve for fucks sake, put your phone down if you don’t know the score from last night’s game by now, you’ll never know it.”

“Shut up and study the cloud types, weather-man.” he muttered, then turned a mega-watt smile to the camera. “I’m Steve Rogers, and this is Sports on Channel 8.”

*****************

Tony had to physically steady himself when a quiet knock on the door brought the insanely hot weatherman Bucky Barnes right into his office.

Every damn time he and Bucky were in this room together Tony got vivid flashbacks to the previous Christmas when someone-- most likely Pepper-- had hung mistletoe above his desk as a joke. Bucky had walked in the door much like he was doing right now, had looked up at the mistletoe and then down at Tony and before Tony could even breathe, Bucky had kissed him senseless. Big hands in his hair, an unfairly muscled body wedged against his own, a moan that was practically a growl--

-- and then the bastard had pulled away with a wink and a laugh and sauntered back out the door as if he hadn’t just fueled the next six months of Tony’s uh-- self- gratification.

And Tony had felt bad for day dreaming about it, had felt bad for enjoying it so thoroughly, had felt bad for ages because he knew Bucky and Steve were together or at least sort of together but damn. Damn how was he supposed to forget a kiss like that?

“You look like you’re thinkin’ awful hard.” Bucky teased. “Am I interrupting something important?”

“Nope.” Tony steeled himself against his rather errant thoughts and forced a hopefully bland smile to his face. “What can I do for you, Buck?”

“Well I was wonderin’, since you’re in charge of the Secret Santa and all--” Christ, even when he was being awkward Bucky was cute. “--maybe you could see to it that I get Stevie’s name in the drawing?”

“It’s supposed to be random, Bucky.” Tony said flatly. “Random. My control extends to putting all the names in a hat.”

“Right, right.” Bucky nodded in apparent agreement but then tipped his head and smiled shyly. “But you’re the boss, ain’t ya? Can’t you make sure a little holiday magic happens?”

“Tell me, Mr. Barnes.” Tony went back to scribbling names down. “Do you only bring that Brooklyn voice out when you want something?”

“Is it working?” Bucky asked hopefully.

“Holiday magic? Oh my god.” Tony pointed at his door. “Leave me alone and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Sure thing.” Pleased that he’d pretty much gotten his way, Bucky glanced around the office and then up at the ceiling. “No mistletoe this year?” A wink that nearly devastated Tony where he sat. “Damn shame that.”

It took Tony a full two minutes to catch his breath after that little interaction and his heart rate had just barely calmed down when the door opened again and Steve walked in.

Kill me.

“Tony.” Steve had a grin that would put a Cheshire cat to shame and he turned the full force of it on Tony as he leaned over the desk. “What’s it going to take to make sure I can get Bucky’s name in the Secret Santa?”

“What part of random don’t you people understand?” Tony poked at Steve’s finger with his pencil until Steve gave him some more space. “I don’t have any control over who gets which name, it’s all luck of the draw.”

“But you’re the boss.” Steve cajoled. “Can’t you work a little--”

“Holiday magic?” Tony finished. “I gotta tell you, it’s feeling less like holiday magic and more like bah-humbug right about now.”

“What if I sweeten the deal?” the big blonde waggled his eyebrows coaxingly. “Hm?”

“Nobody wants anything you’re offering, Rogers.”

Steve made a show of rolling his shoulders, flexing those over sized arms. “Aw c’mon Tony, we both know that’s not true. Why don’t you loosen your tie a little and let me take you out for a drink? We can test my bribery skills.”

“Go away and go bother Bucky.”

“You wound me Tony.” Softly, damn near honestly if those blue eyes wouldn’t have been sparking with laughter. “You know you own my heart.”

“Out, Rogers!”

Steve laughed all the way out the door, ducking when a pen winged by his ear, the station manager having had enough of his shenanigans for one day.

“Did Tony just throw something at you?” Bucky was already posted up in the break room and halfway through a foot long sub when Steve showed up. “You better be careful, he’ll bump you down to janitor and let me have your job too.”

“You need to be more than pretty to work an actual desk, Buck.” Steve took the sandwich and scarfed down a big bite. “It’s not exactly pointing at clouds and guessing temperatures.”

“Whatever.” Bucky took his sandwich back with a scowl. “How hard can it be? You do it. I got a smart phone to google shit too.”

“Boys boys.” Sam stripped off his tie and tossed it over a chair as he went for the soda machine. “You’re both pretty and both pretty useless. No reason to argue over it all, just a waste of good quality oxygen.”

“He has a valid point, loves.” The always beautiful Pepper came in next, a sunny smile for the three men. “But listen, before Tony gets in here we need to figure out what we are getting him for Christmas. He puts up with enough of our crap--”

“And by our crap she means your crap.” Sam supplied helpfully and Bucky scowled at him.

“-- so I’m getting him a nice bottle of imported scotch, Sam has a connection for season tickets, the least you two can do is hefty gift certificates, do you understand?” She finished. “And I do mean hefty, we all remember the five dollar Starbucks card fiasco from last year, let’s not do that again.”

“Sure thing, Pepper.” Steve and Bucky chorused, and then to each other-- “We should get him a terrible gag gift.”

“Oh definitely. Definitely a terrible gift.”

“I’m gonna get you something real stupid if I get your name too.”

“Ditto.” Steve nodded, and then quieter, “You’re coming over tonight, right?”

“Only if you feed me after.” Bucky crammed the last bit of his sandwich in his mouth. “Not gonna come over unless there’s food.”

“The fuck I will.” Steve argued. “Last time you ate an entire pizza!” and Bucky snarked back-- “Okay, but only after I got you off twice so you know, I earned that shit.”  

“Hey guys.” Sam grimaced. “Learn to whisper, huh? If I have to listen to anymore of this my ears are gonna start bleeding.”

“Attention attention!” Any snappy comeback from Bucky or Steve was silenced when Tony finally got to the break room, holding a bowl full of folded scraps of paper. “Here we go, Secret Santa. Price limit is fifty bucks this year, don’t tell anyone who you got, and you really aren’t supposed to swap but I don’t care all that much.”

He shook the bowl at them. “The colors mean nothing at all, I had a bunch of different colored sticky notes that got used, there’s only two green ones though--” he widened his eyes meaningfully at Bucky and Steve. “-- so no one fight over them.”

Tony set the bowl down and drew a name first, then backed up to let everyone else have a turn, smiling to himself when Steve and Bucky both picked up a green piece of paper.

Dorks.

Damn, he sort of loved them.

***********************

#ncts fics #stuckony #stucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #pepper potts #christmas commission

[tisfan]

Take this Job (And Shove it Out the Airlock) Chapter Two

Title: Horrible Working Conditions Square: R2 - quarantined! Warning: space opera Pairing: WinterIron Summary: So... Tony meets his co-worker and it goes about as well as can be expected. Also, Tony doesn’t like being told what to do. We knew that, right? I mean, like, we all knew that. Link: AO3

For @tonystarkbingo

“So, what’s the deal with this guy?” Tony was staring at the man in the glass cage, although if someone had held a laser blaster to his head and asked him why, Tony might not have been able to say.

The man was, to start with, chained down tighter than a life pod in an asteroid field; the collar around his neck was attached to solid beams that were set into the floor, and his arms were stretched out, caught in heavy cuffs. He was forced onto his knees, head tipped slightly back to keep the collar from choking him, his hair thick curtains on either side of his face.

Despite that, there was a terrifying amount of power in the man’s body; thick thighs, powerful shoulders. He looked well and truly contained -- not even including the fact that he was inside a durasteel glass pod -- but also that there was more than enough reasoning for it. He was half naked, chest gleaming with sweat, his feet were bare. He should have looked vulnerable.

He didn’t.

But even that aside, the man had an arm made of metal, probably adamantium or a titanium alloy, based on the color. It was capped on his shoulder, surrounded by thick, pink scarring. Some of those scars looked as if the man had tried, more than once, to claw the arm off.

It was a lovely piece of tech and Tony had a sudden itch to put his hands on it. “Involuntary bodily modification is against the law,” Tony said, softly, aware that Fury hadn’t answered his commentary.

No one answered that one, either.

(more below the cut)

And on top of that, the man was gloriously beautiful, face like an angel, combined with just the right amount of attitude. He had a mouth made for kissing, a cleft chin, and eyes the color of blued steel. He was utterly, unspeakably perfect, and there was an ancient sadness in his gaze that made Tony ache to do something for him.

“Hey,” Tony said, louder this time, “what is he in here for? Who is he? This is my team member?”

The man’s gaze snapped up to meet Tony’s, despite the fact that the duraglass should have shown him nothing but his own reflection from the inside. Despite the fact that he should not have been able to hear Tony from the inside.

“This,” Natasha said, her voice barely even carrying to Tony’s ears, but the way the man’s gaze shifted, Tony knew that he could hear, “is the Winter Soldier.”

Tony licked his lips. “Oh.”

“I see you’ve read the files.”

“Hasn’t everyone?”

There were people who didn’t think the Winter Soldier existed. He was the whispered rumor behind every big hit, and every bagged bounty. The Winter Soldier, one of the galaxy’s most notorious bounty hunters; he wasn’t the bring ‘em back alive type, either. If someone could afford him, and the Winter Soldier took the job, a target better start putting away money for his funeral expenses.

Not much into mercy, the Winter Soldier.

Or failure.

“I don’t do that anymore,” the Winter Soldier said. His voice was low, smoother than silk, and darker than coffee. Lightly accented, and Tony couldn’t place it.

“We need you to fix him,” Fury said.

Tony choked on air. “Excuse me?”

Fury tapped his flexi, shooting files to Tony’s device. “The arm’s Hydra make,” Fury said. “We need you to take it off, disable the remote, any trackers, and download any data stored. Depending on what we find, we might need your help destroying it. We’ve got a lab set up in a detachable pod for you--”

Tony could read between the lines; the device was likely rigged to explode on any tampering, and Fury wanted to be able to eject the Winter Soldier, arm, and mechanic, in a single button press.

Lovely. “Good to know I’m considered expendable. You’re really not selling me on this whole team idea.”

“Me, either,” the Winter Soldier said, and he looked at Tony and he fucking winked.

“This whole press-ganging thing sucks balls,” Tony said. “Are you gonna be awake for this, sunshine? Or do we need to knock you out? I’d prefer you to guide me through the whole arm thing… helps to have an expert opinion. But I’d also like to keep all my teeth.”

“Smile for me.”

“Huh?”

“I want to see if your teeth are worth it,” the Winter Soldier said.

Tony plastered on his press smile. He’d done it for decades, pretending to be happy when he was anything but. Sometimes, even he couldn’t tell the difference.

“I want th’ arm gone,” the Winter Soldier said. “They-- they did this to me, an’ I want it gone. Can you make a new one?”

Tony shrugged. “I’m Tony Stark,” he said, “and if you read the newscasts at all, you don’t need me to answer the question.”

“Stark?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“I’ll let you do the replacement.”

“Great. Let’s get to it, then, let him out, come on, chop chop,” Tony said. “Time’s wasting.”

“They really do not trust you,” Tony said, because they’d moved the duraglass cell entirely into the detachable pod.

“No,” the Winter Soldier said. “And they’re right not to. I can’t always control myself.”

“Sounds like a you-problem,” Tony said. The door slid down behind him, locking him in the pod-cum-workshop with the Winter Soldier. I’m not locked in here with you, you’re locked in here with me.

“All right, let’s see what we’ve got to work with. Tony sent a command out to his nanites that he’d left aboard Fury’s ship. Everything got very, very dark for a moment, and then, a vibrating clang echoed through the pod. “Pod detached, stealth activated.”

“What are you doing?”

“Well, glad you asked Winter Cupcake,” Tony said. “I love the sound of my own voice, so-- let there be light, God said, and there was-- Light.”

The pod’s lights came back on, and he pulled up several external screens. “The first thing these fuckers forgot is that you can’t trust a Stark not to meddle. I don’t really like being told what to do, either. That one’s a me problem, so we’ll just have to deal with things as they come.” There was more to it than that; Tony didn’t quite trust Fury, but he also wasn’t sure about the Winter Soldier. Better one person dead than hoping that Fury could push his damn button in time.

“So, here’s the deal, I hope you’re into enlightened personal interest, because otherwise, this trip is going to end really damn quick. I have dropped us off Fury’s ship, I’ve got manual control over the escape pod, and if my nanites detect my heart stopping-- they’ll vent the atmo from this pod, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. Scorpion and the maiden, we both die. Got that?”

“I understand.”

“So, I don’t kill you, you don’t kill me, that’s the basics, here. And, astonishingly enough, Fury did trust me with a full, working pod, and a complete workshop, so, if we want to move this from ‘where can I drop you off’ to some sort of ‘how can we help each other,’ I’m eager to hear your suggestions.”

“We’re not going to go get Steve, then?”

“Steve?”

“Captain America,” the Winter Soldier said.

“Big bounty, I guess?”

“Probably, but that’s not why I asked. He’s… I knew him. He’s my friend.”

Tony blinked, and then he blinked again. “Wait, wait, what--”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” the Winter Soldier said, “is my best friend.”

“Holy shit, you’re Bucky Barnes,” Tony said. Well, that set all of Tony’s plans on end. Bucky Barnes, holy shit. He punched the release button for the duraglass cage, letting him go immediately.

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck as soon as his arms were released. “Thanks, that was gettin’ tiresome.”

“Right, okay, then. Uh… let’s get that arm off you, okay?”

Bucky gave Tony a smile and it was like the sun coming up. “Let’s do that, then.”

“Things are never easy,” Tony muttered, tapping his fingers against the control panel, “but this is even worse than I imagined. And for me, that’s saying a lot.”

“Good imagination?”

“Bad luck,” Tony retorted. “Every time I think it can’t get worse, the universe says challenge accepted.”

“So, how bad is it?” Bucky wasn’t looking at his arm, staring instead up at Tony, which was somewhat disconcerting, since his eyes were blue and beautiful, and he wasn’t showing any fear. Someone strapped to a bomb ought to at least be a little concerned, right?

“Well, if my math is right, and my math is always right,” Tony said. “This little bit of nothing you got powering this prosthetic, if it’s removed improperly, could wipe out several large continents on Earth VII. It’s pure, solidified, cosmic energy. I don’t know where they got it from, but I hope to Tesla and Einstein that they don’t find any more of it. Why they’d use it to power your arm instead of duplicating the properties and building a bomb, I don’t know.”

“I am a weapon,” Bucky pointed out.

“Yeah, cupcake, I get that, but you’re also one man, and you’re not invincible.”

“Try me.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think we’re going to be doing that today,” Tony said. He was barely breathing and his hands weren’t shaking at all as he used microforceps to remove the fleck of cosmic energy. “I think they made this from the same material as the Tesseract.”

“The thing that powers your heart?”

“Not quite the same, mine’s based off-- details, details. And, well, mine’s a lot safer.”

“So safe it’s killing you.”

“Point. But it’s not going to blow up and destroy half the moon,” Tony said. He dropped the power source very carefully into a gel suspension. “We’ll keep this.”

“Even though it’s a bomb?”

“It’s a bomb that runs your arm, and can power my heart,” Tony said. “Or, you know, run a space frigate. What I’m saying is, too dangerous to throw in the trash, and we might as well use it.”

“I can’t decide if you’re brave or foolhardy.”

“Is it too much to ask for both?” Tony wondered as he pulled out the various attachments. Now that Bucky’s arm wasn’t going to explode, it could be safely removed.

“What’s gonna run the new arm?” Bucky asked, sitting up and looking at the cap end where his arm used to be. Most people would be deep in dysphoric panic by this point; people not being used to having their limbs removed, but Bucky seemed almost calm.

“Thought you could wind it up in the morning, like an old-fashioned toy,” Tony said, then laughed. “Oh, that was excellent, I should prank you more often. That was a great expression there, Barnes.”

“Seriously, Stark, I’m leaning toward foolhardy.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Tony said. “But no, at least for the time being until I can get something more efficient, you’ll be charging off the nacelles that power the shuttle. Should be able to run for about eighteen hours, and then you’ll need to plug in for an hour or two. You can do it while you sleep. It’s not ideal, but it’ll work.”

“What if we need to be off the shuttle for more than eighteen hours?”

“Well, that’ll suck, won’t it?”

“Like a goddamn black hole,” Bucky said. 

#tonystarkbingo2019 #bingo fill #winteriron #tony stark x bucky barnes #mechanic!tony

[castellankurze]

FSF - Iron Warriors (Heresy/Pre-Heresy Era), an unconventional type of warfare/weapon.

“Their coordination is perfect,” Eutropia said.

“Virtually perfect,” the Iron Warrior across from her stated with eyes narrowed in skepticism.

“No.  I mean perfect.  I’ve never seen anything like it before,” the Alpha Legionnaire replied.  Her fingers glided over the map of the city, indicating various markings made and subsequently crossed out or smudged over.  “We’ve tried every approach we can think of.  Sewers.  Heat vents.  Camo-cloaks.  Reflex fields.  We even tried brute-forcing the east and west gates.”  Her lips thinned into a line at the admission of such straightforward tactics.

For nigh on nine weeks the XX Legion forces - five companies’ worth - had labored to take the city of Castrus Veronia, a sprawling megacity nearly a thousand kilometers in breadth.  A request for reinforcement had come recently into the ears of the IV Legion, and the chapter of Warsmith Larisa had responded, bringing with them companies of the Imperial Army and heavy artillery provided by the Adeptus Mechanicus.  All of whom were about to receive a very rude awakening.

There was a rustle of paper as Eutropia laid a translucent image over the city layout.  “The problem is this central communications hub.  As near as we’re able to determine, it’s buried several kilometers underneath the city - too hardened to hit with bombardment, we ran the simulations - and it’s jacked into Veronia’s entire communications network.”  She placed a hand atop a pict-capture of a massive combat droid near the size of an Astartes dreadnought in the midst of tearing one of her squads to pieces.  “That enables them to use their pet warbots with perfect coordination.  Any detection of invasion and they come swarming in.”

Larisa pressed her lips together and reached out with a fingertip to draw the pict across the table towards her, inspecting the image of the war droid.  “I assume you XX have gone through your usual repertoire of feints and falsehoods,” she said.  Her voice was a hoarse, rasping noise, not unlike the grinding of her Legion’s war machines.

“You assume correctly,” the Alpha Legionnaire replied, keeping her own face neutral.  “Again I must stress that their coordination is perfect.  They respond to every threat, no matter how nuanced, with overwhelming force, all directed by the central hub, and we’ve been unable to get so much as a toehold before they come swarming in.  I’ve begun to suspect that the hub houses some manner of advanced AI,” she saw the Mechanicus representative twitch- “that handles the protection of the city.  Their response times, their adaptive tactics, they’re too good for human direction.”

“Orbital bombardment.  Smash the entire thing,” Larisa stated bluntly.

Eutropia thinned her lips.  The Alpha Legion did not pride itself on trading guile for brute force.  “We would prefer to keep such an option as a last resort.”

The Warsmith grunted and looked down at the maps once more.  “Attrition tactics.”

“We considered that.  We spent a week picking off what bots we could.  They drag away the scrap for repairs and the city has factories which produce replacements.  The only way to whittle them down would be by drowning them in blood, and we don’t have enough to make that work.”

“It may come to that, even so,” Larisa said, looking back up into Eutropia’s eyes.  The Alpha Legionnaire was mildly surprised she still had both, given the scarring that lined her face and continued along the right side of her head, leaving that side shorn of hair.  Like most of the XX Eutropia had undergone routine treatments to alter her own appearance into a shaven-headed, olive-skinned warrior monk, a face in a sea of faces, but given the character of the IV Legion a Warsmith who still had her original eyes was a rare thing indeed.  Not to mention teeth.  “My chapter is but the vanguard for a larger force, and when the Lord of Iron arrives it will not matter how fine-tuned the defenses of Castrus Veronia.”

Eutropia thought for certain she had heard wrong.  “The IV Primarch is coming here?” she asked, unable to help leaning slightly over the table.

Larisa nodded.  “The Iron Blood is approximately eight days out.  Ten chapters of the IV Legion.  If we so choose, we need merely shore up our positions and await them.”  Larisa went back to studying the tactical readouts, leaving Eutropia to stew silently at the thought of the titanic figure who even now drew inexorably closer to this very world with each passing second.  A primarch.  She felt a momentary jealousy, that the IV Legion could indeed call upon such a resource-

“Electronic warfare,” Larisa said suddenly, bringing Eutropia’s attention back to the present.  “These war droids aren’t hooked directly into the grid.  They must receive their directions via wireless.”

“We’ve tried that as well.  Their firewalls are very good, and the hub appears able to supersede any local vox traffic.  Our jamming has had limited effect.”

Larisa stared across the table once more, and then lifted a hand with her index finger extended even as she started to turn away.  “I have an idea.  Come with me,” she ordered, and without waiting to ensure the Alpha Legionnaire obeyed left the command tent.  Eutropia hurried after her, too curious to bristle at being dictated to, as the Warsmith made her way through the developing strongpoint of the IV Legion.  “Ophaellos!  Ophaellos!” she called out, and a man in the crimson armor of a techmarine responded.  “Yes, Warsmith?”

Larisa waved a finger at his chest.  “Where was it.  Tauros?  Torvis?  The nebula with the electronic interference.”

“That was Torvis,” the techmarine affirmed.

“How did you rig that beacon?”

“We tuned the systems aboard the Calibos so that the entire cruiser would act as a single gigantic vox antenna.”

“Could you do it again?” Larisa asked intently.

————————–

The bridge of the Iron Blood was a cavernous chamber, a place of stark utilitarian machinery without artifice or gilding.  It buzzed with activity, men and servitors at their stations coordinating the actions not only of the massive vessel itself but also the accompanying fleet of the IV Legion and their attendant Army and Navy forces.  Four days out from planetfall, the details of the initial drop and occupation steps were being finalized, a flurry of vox and astropathic communication between the multitude of vessels.

Amidst it all, a gigantic figure sheathed in steel sat all but silent on great throne of the Iron Blood, ringed by a bodyguard of armored terminators of the Iron Warriors and attended by a legionary in more standard armor, marked with the rank of captain.  The primarch Perturabo was reading a dataslate, absurdly thin compared to the massive steel gauntlet which held it, and yet the motion of his thumb as he scrolled through its contents caused not so much as a blemish on the slate’s screen.

A voice rang out, breaking through the hum of activity.  “Wide-spectrum vox coming in from the Ironheart!” the communications officer reported.

Perturabo lifted his eyes from his dataslate and nodded slightly before returning his attention to the information in his hand.  Beside him, Captain Forrix pursed his lips.  The Ironheart was Larisa’s flagship, and the report of a widebeam transmission at this distance was unheard-of.  “Put it on,” he ordered with a nod of his head.

A moment later, a disembodied voice filled the bridge chamber with a full-throated bellow of “BANG YOUR HEAD” accompanied by electronic interference from the power behind the transmission, a blast of audio so tremendous it felt almost like a physical blow to the chest.  Crewmen jolted at their stations at the unpleasant sound, and in the corner of Forrix’s eye the captain even saw one of the primarch’s bodyguard raise his stormbolter.  He turned his head to glower at the reaction and the man lowered the weapon once more, his posture sheepish.

Perturabo lifted his attention once more, frowning, and lifted his hand to make a curt gesture with two fingers.  The vox officer hastened to cut the broadcast, and the bridge chamber felt positively silent in the wake of the transmission.  “And we are yet four days out,” Perturabo mused, still frowning.

“My lord?” Forrix questioned.

The primarch did not reply.

—————————

In the end, the thousand kilometers of Castrus Veronia, a technologically advanced city-fortress which had stood for nine weeks against the Astartes, fell in mere six hours.

Blasted across the entire spectrum of vox capability from the warship in orbit, activity across the city ground to a halt as communication failed, and even the mighty war droids stood still and silent even as the armored figures of the IV and XX moved to occupy the city, encountering only sporadic resistance from hardpoints and individual cells that had managed to receive localized orders.  

Warsmith Larisa and Praetor Eutropia walked into the capitol building virtually unopposed, accepting unconditional surrender from the city’s rulers.

Indeed it could be rightly said that the arrival of the Iron Blood and the full fleet of the IV Legion served little purpose other than to ensure the transition of the world to the rule of the Imperium and the establishment of one of the Legion’s ubiquitous defensive garrisons, all while the Adeptus Mechanicus swarmed the vaunted central hub with the intent of picking apart all the secrets of its advanced technology.

Warsmith Larisa met with the Lord of Iron in his quarters aboard the flagship, and he did not fail to notice that a small crest bearing the likeness of a reptilian beast had been adhered to his officer’s collar.  “You blasted them with…juvenile music,” he said, his voice emotionless.  His eyes did not meet her own, but once more scanned the dataslate he held in one armored hand.

“Pre-Imperial recordings,” Larisa confirmed.  “A selection chosen for maximum psychological and electronic disruption.”

Perturabo lifted his gaze, his expression cold.  “You are dismissed, Warsmith,” he said bluntly, and Larisa departed.

Alone, the Lord of Iron slowly pressed a thumb to the screen of the slate until its display cracked.  As the seconds passed, Perturabo tightened his hand around the device, plastic and electronics crumpling beneath his inexorable grip, until at last he had closed his fist, the dataslate crushed to pieces.

[******]

[The Siege of Castrus Veronia was not entered into the histories of the Adeptus Astartes IV Legion]

#40k #Sillyhammer 40k #asked and answered #fanservice friday #female space marines #kurze writes #Iron Warriors #Alpha Legion #ivorytowerblr #music link may be loud

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky (Ch. 5)

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: So, @cheapbourbon came up with an amazing AU and did some lovely art for it: please look at it and love it.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Read Chapter Five on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time Edge got the Sno-Cat secured and signed back in, the others were already gathered in the mess hall. All the researchers were buried into their laptops and tablets, conversing softly with each other and the fact that no one had discreetly asked for the WiFi password was encouraging for their survivalist skills.

Red and Undyne were sitting at the end of the table, squabbling over a game of cards, which meant everyone was here.

Everyone that was, except Rus.

Edge could only shake his head in exasperation; this was not a trend he liked. In their corner, Undyne was laughing at something Red said, pounding the table hard enough to send most of their cards flying and the silverware dancing, but her grin faded, flipping into a scowl when she caught sight of Edge standing there alone. “Where’s the fashion victim?” she demanded. “What the fuck, Boss, did you leave him out there to walk back? He couldn’t have been that bad!” A dozen pairs of interested eyes rose from laptops and notebooks to look at him, awaiting his reply. As if perhaps the answer was yes, and that his body would soon join the others, so take heed.

It really was endearing the way she enabled trust between them and their wards. “Of course not,” Edge growled. “I sent him inside close to ten minutes ago, hasn’t anyone—” The door to the kitchen swinging open cut him off and Rus came out through it, which answered some questions only to create more.

He was laughing and carrying bowls, and Bonnie was at his heels with serving platters of her own. Her chuffs of laughter had all three permanent residents staring in disbelief. She was never one to laugh so readily in front of Humans and they’d never seen her allow anyone to help her with serving. “good evening, everyone, i’ll be your waiter tonight,” Rus said, in perhaps the worst attempt at a snooty English accent possible. He set down his bowls, shaking out one of towels he used as a potholder and draping it primly over his arm. With a stiff bow, he looked down the little nodule over his nasal cavity at them. “everything is delicious, in case you’re wondering. i’ve taste-tested all of it personally, so none of you need to worry about poisonings or wily sabotage from wascally wabbits.” Even the Humans looked amused. Undyne was laughing outright and Red was snickering with some reluctance, his eye lights hidden again behind his sunglasses while he picked up cards from the floor. Bonnie returned with more bowls and hip-checked Rus out of her way. He stumbled back, laughing, “ah, it seems i am bowing to the expertise of our bonny chef! bunny chef? anyway, dig in, i’ll be right back, i almost have her talked into dessert!” He slipped in front of Bonnie, his hands flashing as he signed while walking backwards towards the kitchen. It was almost too fast for Edge to follow but from his pleading expression and Bonnie’s of bemused indulgence, Rus was being true to his word and begging for dessert. He suspected it was a battle already won. They disappeared back into the kitchen and the rest of them dug into the serving bowls, conversations paused in pursuit of delicious nourishment. “That shirt he’s wearing looks familiar,” Undyne murmured, depositing a generous dollop of roasted vegetables on her own plate, “did he pick it up off your floor?” Edge chewed his own mouthful more thoroughly than necessary, then said with marked gentleness, “The more you talk, the more I look forward to kicking your ass tonight.” “Oh, there’ll be some ass-kicking tonight.” She stretched and her shirt bulged visibly at the arms, seams straining. At least two of the Male humans and one of the Females were watching with great interest and Edge made a mental note to quietly inform them that Undyne was in a very committed relationship and likely would not take any invitations well. “Nice trick,” Edge leaned back in his chair, “but some of us don’t need fancy muscles to fight.” “or any muscles, really,” Red drawled. “dunno, boss, you might be out of practice. i got ten on undyne.” Before Edge could berate him for that disloyalty, a shy voice spoke up, “I’d put ten on the Boss.” It was one of the women he’d worked with earlier and her eyes behind her glasses were sparkling with amusement. That was…different. Most of the researchers kept to themselves, particularly after their safety training, hardly speaking to them past verifying equipment requests or occasional rude personal questions. To have them willingly join simple friendly conversation was unusual. Red’s grin widened and he tipped up his sunglasses. “oh, now we got some action going.” He scrabbled a pen and a grubby notebook out of his jacket pocket. “all right, who else wants in?” Edge could only watch in disbelief as the other scientists began to call out bets, wondering when he’d lost control of this situation. It did not escape his notice that the ones who’d done their ride along with Undyne today were wagering on her. Maybe he should pay closer attention to the recording logs. Even Undyne looked taken aback, but not for long. She watched as Red wrote gleefully in his notebook, the entire group of them bantering and arguing over bets. Too low for any of them to hear, she murmured, “Gonna lay down the law, Boss?” “No,” he said slowly. It had been a long time since he’d seen Red honestly excited and there was no real harm in it. “Let them lose their money.”

Her grin widened viciously. “He’s got you in a good mood, Boss, how did he end up in your shirt, exactly?” she crooned and ducked when he swiped at her. “Ah, ah, save it for the ring.” The ring, yes. By the time Rus returned, grinning triumphantly, plopping into a seat and digging into the depleted serving bowls without complaint, the betting was over, but that was fine. Edge did make sure to leave room for dessert.

~~*~~

Before the dishes could be scraped and cleared, Bonnie returned, both expected and unexpected, with a large tray of peach cobbler.

It was from canned peaches but still delicious, and she gave Rus the first portion before allowing anyone else to dig in.

He signed a flurry of thank you’s at her, only stopping when she cuffed him lightly on the back of the head. But she was smiling as she went back to the kitchen and the entire tray was scraped clean in minutes.

Undyne was the first by the door afterward, almost bouncing with eagerness. “C’mon, let’s go see the rec center! Bet you guys could use some relaxing after today. You’ll like the walkway, too, this way.”

There was a low murmur of agreement from most of them, although they were surely more eager to get their money’s worth on their bets than to try out the treadmills. Rus perked up as well, his face alive with interest, and he trailed a safe distance after Undyne, buffering potential noogies through several Human bodies.

Edge followed last, Red at his side, and he pointedly ignored his grinning fool of brother as he paged through his little notebook. It was harder to ignore the slim figure walking in front of him, dressed in his clothes, but he managed.

The main building and the Recreational Center were the only two connected with Alphys’s prototype umbilicus, thus far. It was short enough to force Edge and Undyne, and now Rus, to duck a little going through but it did allow them to traverse between buildings without have to completely gear up.

Her goal was to have all the buildings connected by next year, if this tested well in the cold and wind this season.

For now, it was holding up, as warm as the rest of the buildings and without the barrier of metal hardware blocking the view. Nothing but clear, glassy material and there were times in the past that Edge had discovered Undyne and Alphys sitting out here together, watching the darkened sky where the low outdoor temperature wouldn’t be unbearable for Alphys.

At least he hoped they’d only been sky watching; he’d never cared to investigate too closely.

The recreational facility was one of the larger buildings at the station. In one corner was exercise equipment including treadmills and weight benches. In another were a couple of comfortable sofas, and a video game machine that doubled as a blu-ray player. One wall was lined with plush recliners with full spectrum lights stationed above them, where their ‘guests’ could sit with their notes and laptops, working on their research while staving off the effects of living in minimal daylight. And in the furthest corner were the sparring mats. It was one of the few things Edge insisted on in his contract. He and Undyne needed to blow off steam from time to time, and sparring together was the best way to accomplish that. Neither Red nor Alphys were interested or equipped for it, and that was fine. He and Undyne managed with each other. After a brief tour, most of the others were milling around the room but their attention was not on the movie that was starting up. They were orbiting the mats, wandering close, then backing off, and the sense of anticipation was heavy in the air from all of them. Except one. Rus was with them, but his focus was on the movie, unaware of any stakes. By the wall, Edge stripped off his outer layers and folded them, kicking off his shoes and socks and leaving only his tank top and pants. He ignored the interested eyes he could feel on him. Humans were endlessly curious about Monsters and scientists doubly so. If they were as smart as they were supposed to be, they would keep their questions to themselves, and if they weren’t, Edge was well familiar with giving a curt reminder of manners. “I’ll try not to kick your ass too hard, Boss,” Undyne said cheerfully as she taped her hands. “You’ll need to be able to do some work tomorrow.” Speaking of manners. “You might want to watch your mouth,” Edge threw back. He stepped on the mat, bouncing lightly on his toes. “The less you speak, the less words you’ll have to eat later.” Undyne cackled. It had been far too long since they’d had the opportunity to let loose and never with stakes. She slipped in her mouth guard as Edge did the same, both of them tightening their sparring gloves. They circled each other slowly, familiar enough with the other to be wary. Edge didn’t have to wait long. Undyne lashed out viciously and Edge danced back. Her fist still passed close enough for Edge to feel the rush of air and he didn’t wait for her to try again. He struck, catching her square in the face and her head snapped back. Redness glowed in her eyes, a thin trickle of purple blood trailing from her nose, but Undyne only licked it away, grinning savagely. "Come on, you can do better than that.” “I can, but if I don’t leave you standing, I’ll have to take on your duty sheet tomorrow.”

They went around the mat and each other, trading blows and insults while the others crowded close to watch, and Red stood nearby taking last minute bets.

Undyne had a hell of a reach despite being shorter than him and she was damned strong on top of that. It was better to wear her out dodging than to keep blocking blows, and to stay out of arm’s length as much as possible. It worked for a while, until the one time he was too slow. Undyne caught him by the arm, twisting him off-balance and flinging him viciously into the wall. It was only poor luck that he hit the seam of the wall mat, catching more drywall than cushion. He felt a rib cracking, bit back his shout of pain as he went down to his knees. Distantly, he could hear a murmur of dismay from their watchers and Undyne was by him in an instant. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Boss," Undyne said remorsefully. She started to kneel down, and Edge took that moment to nail her square in the gut, knocking her on her ass.

She whuffed out from the force of the blow, then wheezed a laugh, pounding on the padded floor with a fist. "By the queen’s tits! That was a low blow, you dick!" "the rule is not hitting when your sparring partner is down,” Edge panted. He pressed a hand gingerly against his cracked rib, testing. “There's nothing that says the downed partner can't.” He didn’t mean to look away from her, hardly more than a glance, but his gaze snagged on Rus, standing at the outer part of the crowd. He looked a little shocked, his skull oddly pale, and Edge climbed unsteadily to his feet. "I'm fine,” he said, a little louder than he might normally. He was, or would be by tomorrow. His injuries were nothing like what Red was recovering from and the bones would only be a little tender for a day or two. A quick treatment from Alphys and he’d be fine. He tore his gaze away from Rus. He couldn’t allow any distractions or one of them was going to get really hurt. But Undyne noticed Rus watching, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "Wanna get in here, Rus?” she called. Her grin bordered on feral. “Don't worry, he'll be gentle on you." The others turned to look at him with varying expressions of interest, Red’s pen poised for changing odds.

Rus took an actual step back and something like fear crossed his face. To her credit, Undyne noticed her misstep immediately. "Aw, I'm just kiddin', fashion victim. Leave the fighting to us, we’re a good spectator sport.” Rus grinned, that false smirk of his and having seen his real smile, Edge hated it instantly. It was a painful contrast to his posture, hunched in with his arms crossed over his chest, almost as if he were bracing himself. "yeah, well, don’t kill him, undyne," Rus called back. "some of us need to borrow him yet tomorrow." Laughter ran through the group of Humans, even Red chuckling along. Edge didn’t laugh, even as Rus met his gaze, that false smile of his faltering.

His eye lights were too narrow, shrunken to pinpricks and from the way Red was frowning, he noticed it, too. No one else would understand what it meant, but they did. Rus was upset and Edge wasn’t sure why.

There was nothing to say, not now. Undyne leaned in with a smirk and murmured, too low for anyone else to hear her. "Hope he washes you before he gives you back." Edge scowled and shoved her roughly back while she laughed raucously. He tightening his hand guards and stepped back up, dropping into an aggressor’s stance. He didn't need to go see Alphys just yet and Undyne’s eyes took on a gleefully red cast at his silent challenge.

If she wanted to blow off steam, she was about to get her wish. In the end, they called it a draw but there were no complaints from the viewing gallery, not with the variety of matching bruises they were both sporting. Undyne was nursing a bloody nose and Edge couldn’t see properly out of one socket. Tomorrow they’d both be aching and snarling about it, but tonight he wasn’t going to have any trouble falling asleep.

It was with disbelieving wonder that Edge watched Undyne and Red chatting with the researchers afterward, Undyne even going so far as to allow the young woman who’d given her a look at dinner a squeeze of her bicep. He didn’t know what Red was writing in his little notebook while talking in hushed tones to two of the others and perhaps that was for the best. Edge was only interested in one of their charges, but Rus was already gone.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Six

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #arctic AU

[takadasaiko]

Second Chances: Chapter Six

FFN II AO3

Summary: Steve has every intention of returning the Infinity Stones to their correct place in the timeline and heading back to his own. His problems start when he makes an impulse decision to jump over to 1946 and Peggy decides to go back home with him. It only gets more complicated from there when Howard tags along with them to 2023. Tony lives fix-it fic. Pepperony.

Chapter Summary: Steve tries to figure out how to best handle the situation without admitting to Tony that he's brought not one but two people from the past into 2024.

Chapter Six

Howard had always liked a good challenge, and convincing Steve and Peggy that he had reluctantly given up on the idea of going with them had certainly been one. Peg lived in a state of suspicion with him - especially after his fib over the vile a few weeks before - and Steve had called him on his tendency to misdirect and straight out lie more than once during the War. He had been questioning when the ruse would be up, but now the question seemed to be which one of them would take a swing first. Howard lifted his hands in defense. "It's not nearly as bad as you're thinking it is."

"No, it's worse," Steve snapped.

"How? You talk to your buddy - Tony, right? The one that set you up with that suit - and he'll be able to send me back to the same day I left. No biggie. I'll even get to deliver Peg's letter."

He glanced over to find Peggy massaging the bridge of her nose, all of the earlier joy and excitement completely washed out of her. "That's never been the issue Howard. I'm staying, but if you go back seeing all of the advancements, everything that could suddenly have Starkon it rather than whatever name should have been attached —"

"Ouch, Peg. You think I'm here to, what? Steal technology? Like I can't come up with my own?"

"You don't have to steal anything to alter your own timeline in ways that can't-"

"Like taking Peggy from it?" Howard cut Steve off, the amusement no longer lining his voice. He'd expected pushback and plenty of eye rolling, maybe even a swing in his direction, but this was rich coming from them. "Yeah, neither of you have a lot of wiggle room on that one. I'm not going to destroy time and space by being here. Not how it works. Hell, I could meet myself and three generations after me and all it'd do is make for a potentially awkward situation." He pulled in a breath, trying to reel in the burst of temper along with it. "I just want to see it. Walk through Manhattan and then I'll go home like I was never here at all. You've seen it, Peg gets to see it…. All I'm doin' is asking for a chance to peek through the curtain. That's it. No harm done, I swear."

The breeze pushing at the trees overhead was the only sound for a long moment as both Cap and Peggy stared at him. Finally Steve loosed a breath. "We'll have to get ahold of a couple of people to make it happen."

"See, not so bad," Howard responded, his tone light again.

Cap didn't look entirely convinced as he pushed forward. "C'mon."

Peggy followed immediately, falling into lockstep with him. Howard waited half a beat before hurrying to join them. Well, it hadn't been smooth, but at least he'd made it.

                                                      ___________

The first thing he did was grab a newspaper. June 2024. Okay. That wasn't…. terrible. Not great, but not terrible. He'd been gone just a little under a year then, even though it had only been a couple of weeks for him. That added complications, sure, but at least it wasn't decades this time.

Steve had no idea if his apartment would have been leased to someone else, but that was his second stop. If he were lucky - really lucky - the key would be….. there.

"Checkin' to see if the maid cleaned while you were away?" Howard popped off behind him as Steve ran his fingers along the top of the trimming around the door. He held up the key that he found there and Howard chuckled, lifting his hands in defeat.

Steve fit the key into the lock and turned, hearing the mechanisms shift and the lock slide out of place. He turned the knob and pushed inward. He was met immediately by the muted sound of the television. He was sure he didn't leave one on. Mostly because he didn't even own one when he'd left.

"Someone kept it up," Peggy said cautiously and Steve made a small sound of acknowledgement.

He was halfway to telling Howard to wait outside when the creek of the old, pre-war apartment's floor sounded a warning and Peggy shouted as Steve spun, meeting his attacker to block the blow aimed at him. Both men froze and he found a set of dark eyes on him. "I'll be damned," Sam Wilson managed. "Cap. You're back."

His lips tilted at the corners and he lowered his defenses. "Yeah, Sam. I'm back."

"With friends," the other man said uncertainly, motioning to Peggy and Howard.

Steve cleared his throat. "Yeah…. Sam, this is Peggy Carter and Howard….. Stark."

The younger man's expression inched towards amusement. "Hell, Cap. He's gonna kill you."

Steve didn't even have to ask who he was. He was well aware. "Yeah, I know. I, uh…. We're going to fix it. I'd rather let him know after we get Howard back to the past."

Sam lifted an eyebrow. "So…. she's staying?"

"She is," Peggy grumbled, obviously irritated at being talked about without being included.

"But he's not?"

Steve could feel the tension building in the room between the questions and the lack of names and the overall vagueness that wouldn't set well with anyone. Peggy had squared her shoulders next to him and Howard…. okay apparently the tension was all Peggy. Howard was halfway into the apartment. His fingers drifted over the TV that Sam must have brought with him when he'd taken over Steve's lease, dark eyes wide as he explored every inch.

The inventor crouched down in front of the entertainment center, fixated. "Is this a television?" he managed, and Steve was sure he'd never heard his old friend impressed until that moment. Great. The twenty-first century was going to give Tony's father an aneurysm and there'd be no sending him back. That'd be about the way things played out.

"Yeah…" Sam answered uncertainly.

"And these?" Howard asked, pointing at a collection of various boxes below the TV.

"Uhh… Blu Ray player and gaming systems." He turned to look directly at Steve. "Am I allowed to tell him that?"

"I'm not sure he'd give up until you did," Steve huffed and kept a wary eye on Howard as he continued to explore like a child on Christmas morning shaking gifts under the tree.

"So," Peggy cut in. "Sam, was it?"

"Wilson," Sam acknowledged, reaching a hand out to shake her. "And you are the Peggy Carter. Co-founder of SHIELD."

"Not anymore," she said tensely.

"In our timeline you are. Still makes you damn impressive. Ma'am."

She cracked a small smile at that and Steve found his friend's gaze back in him. "We thought you were gone."

"I took a detour."

"I can see that."

"And you moved into my place."

Sam looked sheepish. "We knew how long it took you to secure a place in Brooklyn that wasn't crazy expensive, and it just…. we couldn't let just anybody take it."

"We?" Steve echoed.

"You've missed a lot in the last few months."

A loud crash sounded off from the kitchen and the three vets jumped, all ready for a fight. Howard peeked around the corner from the kitchen. "Everything's good. It's fine. No irreparable harm done. You weren't attached to those big red bowls, were you, Sammy?"

Sam paled slightly. "You broke my popcorn bowl?!"

                                                     ___________

There was a shrill squeal that accompanied the five-year-old piling into the middle of the bed. Tony was halfway to sitting before his sleep-addled mind pieced together what was happening. He heard Pepper groan at his side and he reached up blindly, catching Morgan's around the shoulders with his arm and dragging her down into a hug she couldn't pull out of. Morgan squirmed and giggled, but her daddy had her locked into the bear hug, a smile tilting his lips even though his eyes were still closed

"Daddy! Let goooooo."

"Nope. I'm sleeping."

"No you're not!"

"Uh-huh."

"Nu-uh!"

"How did I end up with two kids?" Pepper groaned, and before Tony knew it there was a pillow being awkwardly smacked in their general direction.

"Pillow fight!" Morgan announced.

"Tony, I swear if you let her up —" his wife warned, but he was already loosing his grip.

"What can I say, hon? She's just too good. Regular contortionist. There's no holding her."

Morgan went after her mom first, Pepper laughing as she shielded her face. It wasn't long until she turned on her father too, and the Stark household dissolved into giggly chaos. By the end up it Tony was standing on the bed, feet sinking into the memory foam mattress, and in a standoff with his daughter.

"Drop your weapon or face Iron Girl!" Morgan announced in all seriousness and Tony had to swallow the burst of laughter.

"I thought you'd be at least thirteen before I became the villain. What'd I do?"

"Jumped on the bed and taught our daughter terrible habits," Pepper deadpanned from the bathroom that she had retreated to in order to stay as far away from the waging war as possible.

"You tried to blow up the world," Morgan told him matter-of-factly.

"Wow. I am bad. You're right," he said with a grin.

"I'm gonna beat you!" Morgan announced and threw the pillow, adding sound effects that sounded at least vaguely like the energy beams from the Iron Man suit.

The cube of fluff hit his shins and Tony made a show of going down, bouncing against the bed and flopping out. He felt Morgan creep closer and he cracked an eye open. "You saved the world. Good job, kiddo."

She grinned, showing off her newly missing tooth. "Can I have cinnamon toast for breakfast?"

"Definitely." He scooped her up on his way to rolling off the bed. "Pep, you want an omelet?"

"Just a smoothie. Do we have spinach?" she called from the bathroom.

"We do."

"With banana, please."

"I think I can manage that."

"No strawberries!"

"I know!" he chuckled as he slipped his feet into his slippers, flexing the fingers of his right hand. Stiff and a little slow, they still moved on command, even without the brace. It had been a full week since he'd had to use it, Peter's altered formula for Extremis proving to do the job without leaving his brain itching for more. The kid was good, he had to give him that. The real test would come when the nerve damage was fully repaired and he completely cut himself off from the localized doses. All he would have to rely on was the glowing ARC reactor in his chest to keep his heart beating, but that was hardly abnormal. Strangely enough it had almost been like welcoming back an old friend.

"Boss, Peter Parker is calling in," FRIDAY's voice echoed as Tony and Morgan made it down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"What's the kid doing up at this hour?"

"Fighting bad guys?" Morgan offered.

"Maybe. If so, he missed curfew and his aunt's gonna kill him."

"What's curfew?"

Tony glanced down, finding a big pair of brown eyes latched curiously on him. The questions never ended and he loved it. "When you need to be home," he explained to his daughter. "FRIDAY, put him through."

There was a click of the call connecting as Tony grabbed for the ingredients he needed, Morgan hopping from a stool to the table top and sitting there. She started to cross her legs on the table, but one look from her dad stopped that in its tracks. She gave him the most innocent grin he was sure he'd ever seen. He shot her a look. "Halo's a little crooked there, missy."

"Mr Stark?" Peter's uncertain voice echoed over the speakers.

"Good morning, Pete. You're up early."

"You too."

"If I told you I wasn't would you feel guilty?"

There was a long pause on the other end. "But FRIDAY wouldn't have…. you're joking aren't you?"

"Yup." Tony started sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on the bread. "What's up, kid?"

"Oh, uh…. hows's the new dose working out? Still lasting?"

"So far so good, but I doubt you called me at six in the morning to find that out."

"Daddy, more cinnamon," Morgan instructed and be quirked an eyebrow before dumping more on. She gave a nod of approval.

"Not that I don't like hearing from you, kid, but —"

"CaptainRogersisback."

It took a long moment for his pre-caffeinated brain to work through the run-together words, and even as he did he had trouble believing them. His hands stilled, his eyes unblinking. "What?"

"Captain Rogers is back," Peter said again, slower this time.

"Back?"

"Yeah."

"How…? And how long?"

"I don't know the details. I shouldn't even be telling you…."

"Like hell you shouldn't," Tony growled. "Where'd you hear it?"

"Uhhh….. through the Avengers grapevine."

Avengers grapevine? What did that even mean? Tony hadn't been thatfar out of the loop. "Where is he?"

"His place. In Brooklyn. From what I heard," Peter said, his voice entirely uncertain.

Tony pulled in a steadying breath. "Okay. I'll get to the bottom of it. Just…." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Peter didn't need any other pressure on him right then. "Thanks, kid. You did good."

"Really? I didn't break some kind of code or something, did I?"

"Probably, but you kept the one that mattered. I'll be in the city today. I'll drop by and we can talk after you're out of school."

"I'm… on summer break?"

"Right. Okay. Good. After I get done one Brooklyn."

"Do you need the address?"

"No, I've got it." He glanced up at the speaker. "End call."

"Is Uncle Steve in trouble?" Morgan asked from the table.

"He's got some explaining to do," her father grumbled.

"Can he explain after you make cinnamon toast?"

Tony blinked at the half put together breakfast he'd promised his daughter. "Yeah, sweetie. Uncle Steve can wait."

                                                     ___________

It was one delay after another. First breakfast, then Pepper decided she needed to go into the city that day too, so instead of hopping in the car and going, Tony was waiting on his wife and daughter to get ready. She could tell him all day long that she needed to go into the office for this or that, but she hadn't let him drive the two hours from their cabin into the city alone since they had moved back out. He had the OK from every doctor that mattered saying that he could drive again, but that didn't seem to satisfy her. What if something happened? It was a lingering, albeit unspoken fear, and as much as he would like to he couldn't quite hold it against her. Or tell her no. It was one less thing she had to worry about, even if he knew he was doing better than he had been in a long time.

"Do we get to see Pete?" Morgan asked as she bounded down the stairs, fully dressed and ready to go.

"Yep. After I talk to Uncle Steve."

"Can I see Uncle Steve too?"

"Why don't we let your daddy talk to him first? You can help me at the office," Pepper offered and she looked ready for a board meeting. Maybe she really had been planning to go in that day.

Morgan made a face at the idea and Tony reached out to ruffle her hair. "I won't be long."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"You ready?" Pepper asked as she grabbed the key fob from the ring by the door.

"Any chance you'll let me drive?"

Surprisingly enough she tossed the key his way and he reached up, thankful that his fingers chose to wrap around it rather than let it clatter to the floor. If it was a test or not really didn't matter. He felt like he'd won something in that. One more small step forward.

The trip was filled with Morgan's chatter in and around Pepper filling him in on the meetings she had scheduled for that day. Happy would meet her there and make sure Morgan wouldn't be too bored. Tony was sure that their head of security just lovedthe idea of being put on babysitting duty.

By the time he dropped them off at their New York headquarters plans had changed five times before finally settling on calling Peter to come keep her occupied. He left the situation in the best of hands before turning the Audii towards Brooklyn, his mind racing in the fresh silence. They had told him that Cap hadn't made it back, which they had all taken to mean that something had happened to him. What, they couldn't be sure, but popping back up nearly a year later didn't make any sense. Not telling Tony that he was back made even less. He had thought that, after everything, they were good. When he had left they had been good.

Tony pulled the car up to an apartment building that he'd never seen in person. It was old. Pre-war. Just the type Cap would have gone for. Sam Wilson had moved into it when Cap hadn't come back, so he must know that Steve was home. Who was next in the so-called Avengers grapevine was anybody's best guess. He still wasn't sure how Peter had found out, and he'd been too surprised that morning to press the kid on it.

A tap came at his window and Tony jumped in his seat, turning to find a patrol cop leaned down. "You lost, buddy?" he asked, but as Tony rolled the window down he watched surprise take hold.

"Nah, I'm good. Just here to see a friend."

"Holy crap. You're Iron Man."

"Used to be."

"I heard what you did…. everybody did. Are those —"

He was motioning to the scars that lined the right side of Tony's face and the former Avenger immediately opened the door. "'Scuse me, but I'm already late. You mind?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, sure. Listen, if it's not too much trouble, my son is a huge fan of yours."

Tony offered a thin smile. "Sure, what's his name?"

A scrawled signature and photo later Tony was on his way up the flights of stairs, feeling it by the time he reached Cap's floor.

He stopped at the door, pulling in a shaky breath and steadying himself. It was fine. He'd get answers and that irritating, nagging feeling of being purposefully left in the dark would dissipate. Cap was always annoyingly consistent in having his reasons for doing things. He reached up, ready to tap against the door as it pulled open from the inside.

Suddenly Steve Rogers was standing right in front of him, a look of surprise plastered on his face. "Tony," he breathed, a little guilt around the edges of his name.

"Knew you were forgetting to tell someone something, huh?" Tony tried for a quip.

"Steve, is really like to see —" The woman who owned the voice rounded the corner and slammed to a stop. "Oh. Hello."

Steve sucked in a breath. "Tony, this is —"

"Peggy Carter," Tony finished for him, the first real smile touching his lips since that morning. "This is all making a lot more sense."

"You're not mad?"

The question sounded too small to be coming out of Captain America's mouth and Tony cracked a grin as he stepped into the apartment. "Well, you're not gonna shatter time and space, I don't think. I'm sure her new timeline will find a way to compensate." He turned to meet his friend's eyes. "You deserve a little happiness after everything. I get it, Cap."

A rush of air left the older man. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that."

"That doesn't mean I'm not gonna hold this over your head until one of us finally bites the dust."

"Cap, did you say Tony? Your inventor friend?" a voice called out and Tony looked over. That voice sounded like —

"Holy shit," Tony breathed as Howard Stark rounded the corner.

                                                     ___________

TBC

Notes: And to think I thought this chapter was going to be on the short side... I had a lot of fun with this one. Pepperony fluff, Iron Fam, and Tony realizing that Steve not only brought one person back from the 40's, but two... the other being his dad. I've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time lol Even more so the next chapter.

Next Time: Tony tries to process what's going on and Steve asks for help.

#Endgame fix it fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Howard Stark #Tony Stark #Pepper Potts #Morgan Stark #Peter Parker