#Yeah there's a human version of him in there because I had the momentum

[cosmicwhoreo]

Made a son, called him Cornelius and I don't know what to really do with him. But thought I might share him with you because I'm proud of him.

#Art #Character design #original character #character sheet #Cornelius #Cosmic's Children #Yeah there's a human version of him in there because I had the momentum

[sometimesthatsbetter]

Every thing i read in Febubary

I Became the Tyrant of a Defense Game

The MC of this novel is so fucking silly cause who tf names their kid Ash 'Born hater' Everblack? Like i'm being for real right now, his mom literally called him her 'little hater'. Love that

So, a Korean gamer who was streaming about this old strategy game on hardmode where if you fail once the game resets. The guy got isekaied the moment he finished the game on stream and right in the middle of the battle field too, tough luck hater.

Before we go more in depth about this story I would recommend that you read the novel version, the manhwa seems a little tacky and i've seen alot of readers complain that the manhwa makes everything look cheaper.

So, one of reasons why it made on to my reading list is because it was recommended by my guy friends who has great taste for this kinda genre. It drew him in because it used actual strategies that he would also use in his game instead of throwing around random lingo in hopes to cater to gamers. Like every battle was truly suspenseful and the author isn't afraid to show that every victory requires a sacrifice. Also I've seen people praise the character development of this novel, everyone starts out a little stereotypical and annoying but they get their own story arcs to shine.

Another thing i like is that this story is about the fight against the end of the world. Like i know alot of stories with that kind of premise but rarely do i ever feel the urgencey as strongly as i do with this story. The last stand against a sea of monsters waiting to consume the world and the young prince who's tasked with the question of remaining human or turning into a monster to save his world. I love me some classical fantasy

Anyways, it has 500+ translated chapters and it's all free. Go read it now.

The problematic prince

If i'm being honest here i can think of at least 10 more manhwa crown princes who are even more problematic than the ML, especially that guy from the abandoned empress, yeah fuck you blueberry head.

So the story premise is the typical bad boy x good girl story trope. Our prince Bjorn keeps getting pestered by his ex wife whom he doesn't want contact with and our FL is being sold off to the highest bidder in society, shinnaigans happen and so the are married. That's the very shorten version of the plot

First thing that i noticed, the vibes. It gave off so much Edwardian, turn of the century energy that i adore. From the costuming to the city streets and the interactions between common people. Love it.

The author seems to have been blessed with amazing writing skills because oh my god did the writing style made me swoon. Erna, our FL, can be classified as one of those soft girl heroines but i feel like she's more than that. She knew what she had to do to keep her loved ones safe and always strived for better, she's not a cunning villainess nor a simpering coward. Erna never settled and kept enduring and trying new ways to connect with others around her even when she's being labelled as a home wrecker.

Also the nobilities and medias reaction to their marriage was incredibly realistic, i see alot of manhwas with rags to riches stories or men marrying women with horrendus reputations but never mention how powerful the influence of the peoples opinions. Here you can see that Bjorn and Erna's relationship, while rocky still holds strong, it seemed like they are truly in love and happy with their choices. Yet media still condemns her as a witch, a slut and a disgrace towards the royal family. It even lead to a attempt on Ernas life. Which shows you how easily the public can be whipped into a frenzy just because of a narritive that she is other woman.

The spirit queen

If i even find the author of this manhwa i would like to make out with them and have their babies, cause this kind of genious deserves to be preserved.

Do you want a story with proper drama? Do you want something that actually keeps it's momentum and doesn't half ass shit half way through? Do you want themes about power and how it turns people into the worse version of themselves? Well look no further. The spirit queen has your back

Another thing that i loved about this story was it's sympathy towards the working class. The servants in this aren't the stereotypical happy go lucky loyal maids that you see in manhwas, they also aren't evil back stabbing people either. They know that their lives are worthless when it comes to the upper classes so they do all that they can to survive and to protect their loved ones. And i respect that as hell, even if it made them do less than savory things.

Also i recently learned that the author, Tutu-nim, wrote and drew this manhwa on their own. A true girlboss

Run away with me, girl

Remember all those times you said that you can be a better husband for the FL? Well this is a lesbian romance based on that premise.

It's a bittersweet romance story about two girls who were high school friends meeting each other after 10 years. Maki, who is till doing her graduate courses while living with her mom and lamenting her loneliness, while Midori is engaged and pregnant and living that perfect, normal life she wanted. Of course everything is not as it seems, and that's what the author wanted to explore in the coming chapters of the story

It's a short read, about 16? 17? chapters. But the author manages to do so much in that short amount of time. Every character felt so real and complicated. At first when you see Midori and the way that she treated Maki after their reunion, it's not hard to come to the conclusion that Midori is just playing around with Makis feelings. Especially with the way that she flirts and then reminds Maki of her engagement to her boyfriend.

This manga has the most realistic, hut wrenching potrayals of abuse, love and hate i've seen in a while. And if i'm being honest there is a high chance i would do the same if i was stuck in their situation.

#i became the tyrant of a defense game #tyrant of the tower defense game #the spirit queen #run away with me girl #every thing i've read #shoujo manga #manhwa #shounen #shoujo #yuri #gl #manhua #manga recommendation #review #sss class revival hunter #concubine walkthrough #cry or better yet beg #solche #kill the villainess #how to get my husband on my side #gl recommendation

[weirdozjunkary]

Golden heart (SATBK au fic) chapter 5

I had to do a bit of retconning and mashing together with Galahad considering his cannon origins. For context now, he is merged with Galahaut (because they’re names are similar). Also his story is fucking hilarious. More questions and answers are to come, so hold on and wait!

Chapter1 Chapter4 Chapter6

Chapter 5- stories untold

“WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT!” Sonic yelped as he desperately tried to stop himself. His shoes cried out loudly against the wooden floor, straining against the friction he was putting on them.

His efforts were useless as his momentum carried him into the two knights, and the two knights right into the king. 

They crashed onto the hardwood and Sonic launched off to face plant onto the floor a foot or two away. Lancelot sprung onto his feet and darted his attention to the speedy hedgehog. Galahad helped the king up, apologizing profusely to him. Sonic got himself onto his feet, his face stung from the fall, and his shoes smelt of burnt rubber again from his failed attempt at removing his momentum.

“What is the meaning of this…?” Blue groaned as he relaxed his quills.

“I’m so sorry Sire!” Galahad apologized. “We were-“

“We were trying to catch this intruder, who thought he could just walk right into castle grounds!” Lancelot interrupted and pointed at Sonic who was rubbing the pain off of his face.

The kings droopy lids fell more as he became unimpressed. “This is what I was hearing?”

“Y-you heard us Sire?” Galahad asked.

“Of course I did!” Blue dusted off his cape. “You two are the loudest ones in this castle! Apart from him.” He pointed to Sonic.

Lancelot looked at the king, puzzled and a bit nervously. “Y-You…. Know him, Sire?”

“Of course I do! I was the first one to even SEE him! He flew out of a book for Gaias sake!” He folded his hands behind his back. “As well, seeing a younger version of yourself, you know a thing or two about that kind of guest.”

“Wait…. He was telling the truth about being from a different world?!” Galahad said in disbelief.

“Are you serious right now? He even LOOKS like me from 17 years ago! Are you brain dead?”

“Okay, no need to insult them, your highness…” Sonic said sheepishly.

“I…… um…” Lancelot studdered and blushed in shame.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Blue said flatly. “Please, just go back to what you were doing. I don’t want to hear anything more from you two today.”

The knights bowed their heads. “Yes Sire. Sorry Sire.” Lancelot apologized. The two turned tail and left without another word, leaving sonic and the king in the silent room.

“Uh…. We’ll, that was sure…. Something…” Sonic fidgeted with his legs. “Think you were a little to hard on them?”

“I thought I told you to not let anyone see you?” Blue said, not looking at Sonic.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t realize they were nearby...”

“It’s fine.” Blue sighed. “I should have told them about you from the start. They’re not exactly the brightest at discerning who is truly a threat or not. He turned and grinned at him.

“Eh, I wouldn’t discourage their abilities too easily.” Sonic walked over to the king. “Sometimes they’re just confused or misled. Not the first time I tussled with the likes of them before either.”

“Really?” Blue raised a brow.

“Yeah. With Shadow, or who you recognize as Lancelot, he was a BIG jerk! He was working with Dr. Eggman, who is like my number one enemy at this point. Uh, do you have a Dr. Eggman? Never mind- Shadow was working with him, and he wanted to destroy the world because of some… uh- things I don’t want to talk about without his permission, it’s still a sore topic to him.” 

Sonic rubbed the back of his neck. “But let’s just say that Humanity wronged him so he wanted revenge. He snapped out of that and helped me save the world though. I thought he was dead after, but nope. He’s alive and as grouchy as always, haha!”

“Huh, that’s… something.” Blue was intrigued by the story Sonic told. His duel with Lancelot 17 years ago was somewhat different to what Sonic had said about him and Shadow. It seemed that they were alike, but different in ways too. Perhaps it was the age difference.

“What about Galahad? Or, your version of him?” Blue said, wanting to hear more of the hedgehog.

“Oh, that would be Silver! My mind is kinda all over the place about him. I feel like I’ve met him before when I did.” Sonic put a hand to his head as he tried to get his mind straight. “I met him as I was trying to stop this guy who was posing as Dr. Eggman. The guy said he needed to get to him first, so I challenged him to a race! First one to get to the poser wins! And he put up a decent challenge! But even after I won, the guy still had a very sour attitude, I didn't know what his deal was till he finally told me that that wasn’t Eggman.”

“Who was he?” Blue asked.

“Eh, some guy I tussled with a while ago. He calls himself ‘Eggman Nega’.”

“Are you serious?” Blue tried to hold in his laughter.

“I’m serious! The guy even said he HATED Eggman! Yet called himself ‘Eggman Nega’ and then POSES as him? I can’t believe it myself, and I SAW it!”

Blue laughed loudly in response. The hedgehog's stories were amusing, he had to admit.

“What about you?” Sonic asked. “I bet you have a TON of great stories locked up in the Ol noggin, huh?”

The king's laugh faltered, his smile wavering. He shook his head and glanced away. “You wouldn’t want to hear any of my stories.”

“What?! Of course I do! And if you’re like me, I bet they’ll all be ACTION PACKED!”

“Yes…. And they’re all the same. Some threat comes and I go to take it down…. That’s how it always has been…”

“Yeah, but… I do that stuff too! Like every month I’m out beating some bad guy! Sure, it’s the same, but I love it! Heck, I love it almost as much as I love chillidogs!”

“You still need to tell me what a chillidog is...”

“What I’m saying is that, it doesn’t matter if the plotline is the same. The best kind of adventure is the high stakes! The adrenaline! The friends you make along the way! Life is fun if you make it fun! At least… that’s what I figure!”

Sonic smiled at the king, and the king hid his face in his cape. His tired eyes glanced down at the floor. He was silent. Again.

Sonics smile faded. “….. Hey, if you don’t want to tell me about your adventures, fine. But why not tell me about Lancelot and Galahad? I told you about Shadow and Silver, I want to know about these guys.”

Blue stood and thought for a second. “…. Okay. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

Sonic smiled again and wagged his tail, he was always up for a good story. He might’ve been a bit too excited as the king smiled and rolled his eyes, sighing at the young hedgehog.

“You’re going to have to walk with me though, I have things to do.”

“Like what? Sighting and sulking around the castle?” Sonic teased.

“Do you want to hear the story or not?” Blue said as he began walking.

“Sorry!” Sonic hopped from foot to foot to catch up with the king. He gracefully stuck out a hand. “You may proceed with your story!”

Blue chuckled. “Well, Lancelot wasn’t special. It was just after I-...” he stopped himself from saying it. That name… that sword. It stung his throat to even think of it. He inhaled. “He had challenged me to a duel and I accepted. He put up a good fight, the best fighter on the team next to Gawain.” 

He shut his eyes. “I couldn’t deal the final blow to him. It wasn’t right. To kill someone just because they failed…”

“Yeah, I get that.” Sonic said. “Good or bad, everyone should deserve a second chance. No one should die just because they were bad one time.”

“…. What if they’re bad all the time?” Blue asked.

Sonic rubbed his arm. “Well… I know that deep down… even if every time they’ve done the worst things, they’re can be a smidge of kindness inside of them. I’ve seen it. That’s why that no matter what happens, I get up and fight. For myself and for everyone who deserves the same freedom as me.”

Sonic smiled softly. His words were genuine, he’s seen people turn around firsthand, and those people could not be happier for meeting him. Every single one of his adventures, he has helped someone. Human or animal, good or bad. The fact that he could have made someone better, that’s what kept him going.

A pit formed in the kings stomach. He agreed with everything he said, and it made him feel awful. The undoubtful kindness that Sonic had was only matched by the king himself. Kindness that Blue regretted ever believing in. And hate he wished he never have used.

“Sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I?” Sonic rubbed the bottom of his nose. “You can continue your story.”

“… I…” Blue sighed. “I don’t have much else to say for Lancelot.”

“Well, what about Galahad?” Sonic asked.

Blue paused to think, then chuckled. “His story is actually fairly funny.”

“Then tell it! Come on man!” Sonic bounced a bit before stopping himself. “Uh- sorry, I mean, your highness…. Does that work?”

Blue crossed his arms and sighed. “Sir. Galahad was a great knight, beloved by many. He would have been a great king, but he refused a crown, at least till he conquered my kingdom, he had said. At the time he had thought I was the fake King Arthur, an illusion created by the head wizard merlina.” 

The king ran a hand through his quills. “I’ll tell that story another time. I fought Galahad head on, he’s an excellent fighter, especially for how young he is.” He turned to Sonic. “He’s the youngest out of all the knights.”

Sonics eyes widened with shock. “Really? Huh. Seems to be having a lot going for him.”

Blue nodded. “He actually almost took me out. He managed to take… the sword out of my hand.” He strained those last words out his throat. “I would’ve been dead if Lancelot hadn’t stepped in and blocked the blow. They matched each other almost perfectly, it was like they were in cynic with each other.”

“Heh, kinda like they were related or something?” Sonic added in with a smirk.

The king looked at sonic and cringed at his comment. It gave sonic a moment to think. “… what?” Sonic said.

The king cleared his throat. “Nothing… just…” he inhaled and folded his hands behind his back. “Galahad forfeited the fight. He walked up to me and kneeled. He said that he wanted to join my side…” he put a hand over his mouth to hide a smirk, but it came through with his speech. “…. To be able to fight alongside Lancelot.” The king choked a chuckle. “He is utterly smitten about him... because of his ‘swordsmanship’. “

Sonic raised a brow at the kings amusement over galahad. Why was it so funny? It took him a little bit longer than it should have before the realization hit him like a punch from knuckles.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” Sonic yelled.

The king wheezed and put his hands on his knees. “YEAH!”

“Oh my gaia…. This is something I never thought I’d think of…”

“I swear, EVERY TIME Lancelot comes into the room, Galahad is head over heels for him! Face as red as Gawain’s dreads!” The king continued to laugh.

“Damn, I didn’t think Silver would be into the ‘tall dark and handsome’ type! I guess ‘handsome’ IS in the title!”

The king choked and coughed, his laughter made his chest and throat sting. He couldn’t hold it as long as he used to.

“Are you okay?” Sonic asked.

Blue coughed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Just something that comes with age I guess.”

“I think you’re only like 17 years older than me.” Sonic pointed out.

“Still makes me older than you!” 

The king instinctively ruffled Sonics head like he used to with Miles. He lifted his hand up and they both froze. Sonic looked up at the king, whose face was red with embarrassment. He had only been patted on the head a few times before, but each time felt a little weird. It was usually by someone who did it to disregard the hedgehog's abilities, or Tails who just wanted to return after he had patted the little foxes head. 

This felt different, is this how Tails felt? All those times he patted his brothers head? This feeling was… good. It made him feel loved, a warm feeling in his chest that, sure, he had felt to some extent, but not like this. Usually that warm feeling was coated in a layer of ‘being the big brother’. But now he wasn’t the big brother, not here. He was the youngest out of everyone, even Miles was older than him. He would've feel bittersweet about it, but he strangely didn’t. Maybe he needed something like that for a while now.

The king blushed in embarrassment at his instincts. Patting this kid like he did to Miles. He didn’t know what to think, he felt conflicted in his emotions. Embarrassed? Happy? Upset? Proud? Everything was to much for him. What was he to do? What can he say? What should he say?

Blue stammered. “I…. Have some things to do. You can go around and… um… introduce yourself to the other knights… if you meet them…” 

Before the blue hedgehog could say anything, the king had already hurried out of view. “I….. alright.” Sonic said. He didn’t have the chance to ask him about something he had planned after dinner…. Maybe it was better to keep it a secret till then. 

Sonic sighed and turned to the other direction, bumping face first into a new figure. He stumbled back. “Ah! Sorry!” He looked up at who he ran into.

A tall purple cat stood before him. Blaze the cat, or we’ll, whoever was taking her place. She strangely only wore her visor, nothing else to accompany it. Sonic thought back to Miles' comments from earlier in the day.

“So uh, you must be… Sir. Percival, huh?” Sonic said. He stuck out a hand to her and smiled. “Nice to finally meet you!”

Percival didn’t react, instead she stared at the blue hedgehog and then his hand. Her visor obscured her face and any expression she might’ve been making.

“It’s nice to meet you to.” She bowed before walking past him without another word. Sonic was used to the slightly cold exterior that Blaze had given him on occasion, she liked to keep to herself. But this was on the verge of how cold Shadow could be.

“Uh, okay… nice chat…” Sonic said. “What is up with the people here?” He talked to himself as he continued moving. “I hope I can figure out why everyone is so weird. I hate being out of the loop.”

#fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #longpost #sonic and the black knight #satbk #satbk au

[korasonata]

I think this is just what my blog is now. Model streams have taken over. Sorry, not sorry. Favourite moments of Joe and Cleo paper model streams part 5! (Featuring a heavily sleep deprived Joe)

—

Cleo (talking to her cat): Ok. You have had attention. Are you— are you going to go? *pausing* This is the sort of thing I ask Joe. Umm… *laughing*

Joe: Constantly!

Cleo: *laughing* You’ve had your attention, can you go now?

Joe: Can you just not be here. *both laughing*

—

Cleo: Yeah, I have to start gluing things to other things. Badly. And, uh, realizing where I’ve messed up. Which is EVERYWHERE!

Joe: Uh oh.

Cleo (totally not fine): Its fine. It’s fine. I’m fin— how are you Joe?

—

Joe: It makes about as much sense as anything else I do? So…

Cleo: I mean yeah. I mean, I wasn’t gonna say it cause I’m not rude. But, you know.

*both laughing*

Joe: Now you’re just lying to me!

Cleo: *laughing* WOW!! Joe!! My heart is just hurting! Now.

Joe: Mhm.

Cleo: You can tell can’t you, I’m deeply— intensely wounded by that statement that you just made.

—

Joe: I was gonna say, we’re gonna have to call whatever the British version of an ambulance is.

Cleo: Um, I think— and I could be wrong here, the British equivalent of an ambulance is…an ambulance.

Joe: oh, ok that’s really good to know. Cause like, not that I’m planning on getting injured while I’m over there, but like—

Cleo: I mean, if you carry on talking that way you might.

Joe: I mean if I meet you, then there’s a chance that somethings gonna get shoved in my eye or something.

Cleo: Somethings gonna get taken off.

—

Joe: I mean, they say it’s the shotty carpenter that blames his poor tools, but I mean look at this.

—

Cleo (about her bisexual tags on twitch): Hold on, hold on, I need to explain what “visibility” means to bisexuals. Bisexuals are often— um, hidden in the community. They are often, um, not treated as either part of the gay community and the straight community doesn’t really appreciate them either. So, having visibility for bisexuals is very important. As it is for any other place. Also having those tags on your stream show that you are a safe place for those people to go. So, you know, actually labeling those things is important because it shows people that they are not alone. And not being alone? Really important. (To Joe) Sorry, am getting frustrated.

Joe: As somebody who’s been alone for the last year and a half with this stupid isolation, uh, yeah.

Cleo: Yeah! Being alone and not feeling alone is really important.

Joe: If you need to be explained at this point in the pandemic why feeling alone is not good, like I don’t know what to say.

—

Cleo (reading chat): What’s my favourite minecraft mob? Do people have favourite minecraft mobs?

Joe (very tired): Just say whichever mod’s here. Who’s got a sword *scrolling through Cleo’s chat* umm… yeah it’s AnnaBomBanana. Is everyone’s favourite minecraft mod.

Cleo: …moB.

Joe: …MOB! OH!

Cleo: *continuous laughing*

—

Joe: This is gonna go off of the rails further and further. There’s no— there’s no rails anymore! It’s just, somebody has scrawled “here there be dragons” on the ground.

Cleo: I mean, isn’t that pretty much how you live your life anyway?

Joe (high pitched squealing): It kind of is. *laughing continues*

Cleo: You know. Here there be dragons— Sometimes it’s not dragons. Sometimes you might be lucky.

—

Joe: So, like, one thing you can do is after this project you can build tiny dollhouses. And create like a bedroom for each of your tools. And so the knife can just be in the knife room. In the dollhouse. And it can have a knife day.

SILENCE

Cleo: Umm…I’m gonna pretend like what you said made sense.

—

Cleo: I could have said something really nasty then, but I’m not going to. See? I’m growing as a person Joe.

—

Joe: You know what? Hold on, we’re gonna— we’re gonna— at the point where NJ is concerned about my caffeine intake, I’m gonna go get a red bull and I’m gonna take my headphones off before anybody can tell me otherwise, byeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! Be right back!!!! *leaves*

Cleo (calling after him): Well done Joe! I believe in you! *narrating* She did not in fact believe in Joe, and was very concerned.

—

Cleo: I know when there’s a bad idea. It’s when Joe has made it. Joe has suggested it, that’s— that’s when you know it’s bad.

—

Joe: I know that there are ways to have computers automatically send invites, but that’s a good way, like, I know there’s a saying like, to error is human, but to screw up like a hundred thousand things all at once—

Cleo: That’s the Joe Hills Difference.

—

Cleo: Ugh, I feel like poop today.

Joe (genuine): I’m sorry.

Cleo (tiredly): No, that’s ok…(groggy) I’ll torment you…later…it’ll make me feel better…

Joe (equally as tired): Yay!

—

Joe (about Cleo and Xisuma): But Cleo, you’re the responsible adult in this scenario, so yeah you probably should have some answers.

Cleo: X is almost as old as I am.

SILENCE

Joe: …it’s a maturity gap?

Cleo: *laughing* Is that why I’m here with you?

Joe: …no.

Cleo: *laughing*

Joe: I say very confidently.

—

Joe (teacher voice): Quantum mechanics is a fundamental theory in physics that provides a description of the physical properties of nature at the scale of atoms and subatomic particles—

Cleo: *flipping him off*

Joe (blissfully unaware): Now classical physics! The collection of theories that existed before the advent of quantum mechanics—

Cleo: *trying to ignore him*

Joe (carrying on): Quantum mechanics differs from classical physics in that energy, momentum, angular momentum, and other quantities of a bound system are restricted to discreet values—

Cleo: *fingers drumming impatiently*

Joe (still going): Now! Quantum mechanics arose gradually from theories to explain observations which could not be reconciled with classical physics—

Cleo: *physically going through all 5 stages of grief*

Joe: (insert continuously long string of rambling science here)

Cleo: *mutes Joe*

—

Cleo (responding to her partner in chat): You have the movie poster for Dora the Explorer? Cam, I’m suddenly questioning our relationship now.

Joe: Uh oh.

Cleo: *laughing*

Joe: Yeah, I knew I was gonna get blamed for that eventually.

—

Cleo (frustrated): I’m gonna kill someone. And since the person who made and designed this castle isn’t here…(trailing off) Hi Joe.

Joe (accepted his fate): Hello.

—

Joe: Have you ever officiated a wedding?

Cleo: No I haven’t. Why, do you want me to?

—

Joe: Oh! Oh! I found my cross stitch the other day!

Cleo: Oh cool!

Joe: *rummaging in the background* Yeah, so, I don’t know if you’ve seen this before—

Cleo (excitedly): ShowMeShowMeShowMeShowMe!!!

—

Joe (reading chat): Am I excited for Minecraft Live? Umm…

SILENCE

Joe: You know, so much of life is minecraft, but you know, maybe this is just a step too far. You know? Um, I think Mojang asked if they could and never stopped to ask if they should. Um, you know, I think their decision in particular to clone dinosaurs at the event as part of their Jurrassic Park, uh, map thing that they put out— which, also, it’s not even like the Jurrassic Park movies are really for kids, but here’s— here’s Minecraft with Jurrassic Park in it, and also we’re gonna clone a bunch of dinosaurs for this livestream, it’s like *groaning*. I dunno. I’m dubious. I think it’s gonna backfire. Ya know, there’s like 4 cautionary films about why you don’t clone dinosaurs. And they’re just jumping in feet first. So…but, you know, I’d like to be wrong about this. Maybe it’ll go great.

Cleo: …are you having a moment Joe?

—

Cleo (reading chat): “when the arts and crafts streams become Cleo with a scream mask” I am not X. I am not X, I promise you I’m not X. I just don’t have a face.

Joe: Heh

Cleo: And if I was— hang on I’ll be back in a second.

Joe: …wait, did you just realize that you do have a scream mask?

Cleo: No, I have a better mask. *leaves*

SILENCE

Joe: *watching Cleo’s stream intensely*

—

Cleo: Are we seriously doing guillotine jokes right now? I’m not saying I disapprove, but

Joe: yeah, we say “Giatine”

Cleo: That’s ok, you can be wrong.

Joe: …It’s a french word.

Cleo: And? You’re allowed to be wrong.

Joe: …*deep sigh*

—

Joe: It’s funny too. Because people will tell me that I don’t seem like a very— like, mostly my coworkers. Like, would tell me that I didn’t seem like a particularly emotional person.

Cleo: *bursts out laughing*

—

Joe: Yeah, I feel like I didn’t make a lot of…visible progress today…but…it’s fine…

Cleo: I made progress for both of us Joe.

Joe (tiredly): Thank you Cleo… (resting head against the ring light)

SILENCE

Cleo (tenderly): …You’re welcome.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #zombiecleo #zombie cleo #joehills #joe hills

[professorspork]

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

-

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

-

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do. 

#typeoneninja #emerald sustrai #nora valkyrie #rwby #emerald and nora #fic what i wrote

[crispychrissy]

Connected - Part 4

Summary: Dr. Austin's theory is put to the test, and she shows Tony, Bucky, and Steve the woman behind the mystery. Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2976 Warnings: Angst, medical stuff, stretching the medical science behind the super soldier serum, discussion of Bucky's previous trauma & a mention of the horrible things the Nazi's did A/N: I apologize for the late posting, I fell asleep so hard last night I didn't have a chance to queue this, and then I was out all day (good 14 hours out and about) so I am just now able to post the new chapter since I'm home now. As I mentioned in a prior post, I no longer have a forever taglist, but I will still tag series specific people if they request. You can also follow this story & others on my Ao3 as well. The series was beta’d by the lovely @idjitmonkey and I hope you enjoy! Please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged in the series. :)

Series Masterlist – Marvel Masterlist

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Bucky made a quick call to Shuri who, after a thorough interrogation as to why he was asking, assured him his arm would not be affected by the magnets of an MRI machine. So now, Bucky was laying down on his back inside the machine and staring at the small glass covered camera embedded in the inside curve of the plastic above him.

“Stop staring at the camera, Barnes, you’re giving off some crazy resting murder face right now,” Tony’s staticky voice came through the pair of disposable earbuds he was wearing to protect his hearing from the noise of the scan. “Might sell these scans to Ripley’s Believe It or Not. You actually do have something going on in that head of yours.”

“As much as I know you want to answer, Sergeant Barnes, please do not speak or move,” Dr. Austin’s voice came through after what sounded like a small scuffle for the microphone.

Bucky blinked several times in an unnatural yet controlled fashion, and when he heard Steve’s laughter coming through the earbuds, he had to fight the urge to smile, knowing Steve got the message he blinked out in Morse code.

F-U-C-K Y-O-U T-O-N-Y

The scan was over almost a half an hour later, and Bucky couldn’t hide his exhale of relief once the table began to slide out of the massive scanner. Confined spaces still made his skin crawl and flash back to the cryo tube he was kept in, but the MRI was surprisingly open in design and not like the ones he usually remembered seeing in hospitals. When he brought it up to Dr. Austin on their way back to her office, she smiled at him and explained most of the soldiers they treat have PTSD and claustrophobia, so an open MRI design was necessary for the comfort of the patients she treats.

It made sense, and when they entered her office and Bucky’s stomach growled for the fourth time in the last fifteen minutes, she tossed him the orange he’d been eyeing earlier before taking a seat at her desk and flipping open her laptop.

“Normally we have to wait for the images to be reviewed by a radiologist, but I’m well versed in how to read brain scans,” Dr. Austin explained, clicking a few times before leaning forward to study the screen. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” Bucky asked, using his teeth to bite a chunk of the orange’s peel off since his right hand didn't have nails long enough, and his left didn’t have nails at all. Once he could see the flesh of the orange underneath, he slid his flesh finger under the remaining peel and began to remove it in large pieces, trying to avoid getting sticky juice on his metal hand.

Dr. Austin spun her laptop around to show Bucky the image on her screen. It was a scan of his head, he could tell that, but the mess of swirling bright colors on the inside where his brain was made his eyes hurt. There were bright greens and blues swirled with more vibrant reds and pinks dancing around inside the image. “This is your brain.”

“Looks more like those posters… the ‘this is your brain on drugs’ pictures if they were made in the sixties, Doc,” Tony said. “I’m guessing it’s not supposed to look like that?”

“No. There’s so much brain activity that it’s likely what’s been burning through your energy and why you’ve been hungry all the time,” Dr. Austin explained. “Any type of brain activity, including emotions and problem solving, requires energy, whether it’s planning a complex strategy of attack for a mission or a simple math problem or crying at a sad part in a movie. Overworking the mind usually leads to tiredness, which leads to sleep, naturally refreshing those energy reserves. Most humans don’t expend enough energy, even when the brain is very active, to require major replenishment. Take Mr. Stark for example.”

Tony looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes, you’re a very intelligent man, and I’m guessing that when you’re elbow deep in your inventions or developing something, you don’t sleep and will go days without rest… so you find you get somewhat hungry at random times, right?” Dr. Austin asked.

“Well, yeah, I usually keep snacks around the lab that I nibble on so I don’t have to leave to make an actual meal. It ruins the momentum,” Tony said, confusion in his voice. “Pep’s found me passed out over the kitchen counter halfway through making a sandwich.

“Your body shut down and went to sleep before you were even able to replenish that energy via food since sleep is more efficient. So, that is a normal human mind.” Tony opened his mouth to protest, when Dr. Austin rolled her eyes and switched analogies. “Fine, that’s a standard engine, if you will, that can easily be refueled by a small energy source for a limited amount of time before it needs to be shut down and rebooted,” Dr. Austin said, slowly twirling her right pointer finger in a circle.

“Alright, I’m following you so far.” Tony’s head was slightly moving along with the circular rotation of her finger.

“Now, in the case of our super soldiers here, imagine that engine, but amplified almost five hundred percent,” Dr. Austin began to rotate her finger faster and faster until it was a blur of movement. “The need for sleep is suppressed by the serum, since alertness is crucial in combat, so that reboot requirement is easier to put off. In order to keep this kind of engine going at the same speed and level of activity for prolonged periods, it would burn through a small snack, or a small source of energy, too quickly and would signal the driver of the car, if you will, that it needed more.”

“So you’re saying that something is making Bucky’s brain so active, and he’s burning through so much energy, that it’s manifesting as hunger to make sure he keeps up with what’s being expended?” Steve asked, his mouth slightly open in shock. “I mean, I always remember being hungry after mission strategy and planning meetings, but I just assumed it was because I was bored or had skipped a meal.”

Dr. Austin shook her head. “Nope. You were using your brain in overdrive, doing quick calculations and mission scenarios in your head to find the best possible plan of action, much faster than any normal human brain would be able to calculate. It makes you an excellent strategist, but that kind of brain power burns a lot of energy.”

Bucky snorted in disbelief and leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “It makes sense. I was a good sniper when I was first in the Army during the war, but after Zola… after he injected me with that bastardized version of the serum… I could calculate trajectory angles and wind velocities and distances in my head in seconds, didn’t have to write them out to do the calculations. Didn’t even need a spotter anymore.”

Dr. Austin nodded. “Exactly. The serum allowed you extra mental acuity at the expense of more energy consumption.”

“But that doesn’t explain why Bucky’s brain is lit up like a psychedelic Christmas tree,” Tony said, gesturing to the laptop image. “Barnes obviously isn’t doing any kind of advanced calculus in his head right now.” Tony looked at Bucky. “You’re not right?” Bucky shook his head and Tony continued, “so why is his brain so active?”

“And that leads me to my theory about Y/N,” Dr. Austin said, standing up from her chair. “Follow me, gentlemen. And Sergeant Barnes,” he looked over and raised a brow as he trailed after her into the hallway, “please let me know if you feel any increased feelings of hunger or exhaustion. The effects might come on quickly, so please let me know if, or when, you feel anything.”

Bucky nodded, and looked over to where Steve was walking to his right. Thanks to their childhood friendship, Steve could always see anxiety and nervousness in Bucky even when he tried to hide it, like when he saw Bucky off the morning he shipped off to Europe. Bucky kept his face stoic, but when Steve hugged him goodbye, Bucky was practically trembling under the Army-hardened mask he had worn then.

Steve reached over and clasped a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze of reassurance.

The doctor led them down several hallways, until they reached another wing of the military hospital which held secure patient rooms that could be locked down if necessary, whether due to outbursts of violence due to psychological issues from recovering soldiers or to hold prisoners who had been injured and needed medical intervention. Dr. Austin stopped in front of a room at the end of the hallway and gestured to the one-way mirror in front of her.

“Gentlemen, meet Y/N Y/L/N.”

The three men stepped closer and looked into the room, all eyes frozen on the figure sitting upright in the hospital bed. Y/N had shoved herself in the farthest possible corner of the bed, her knees tucked under her chin and arms wrapped around her legs. The photo in her file, and even the video of her they’d seen looked nothing like the woman before them. She looked almost emaciated, her skin a sickly pale that was almost translucent, and her stringy grease matted hair twitched slightly as her body trembled.

“Jesus,” Steve breathed. “She… she looks like those prisoners… the ones—”

Bucky swallowed and nodded. “From Natzweiler, yeah, I remember.” Bucky took a deep breath, fighting against the telltale tingle in his mind of a long since forgotten memory beginning to rise up like a wave. “Doc… is she eating?”

“She was when she first got here, but only if the food was left for her after she passed out from exhaustion,” Dr. Austin explained. “Now, ever since things have escalated, she rips out her IV’s, pulls out NG tubes, and refuses any food we bring her. I’m not going to sedate her just because it’ll make it easier to feed her, we haven’t reached that level of intervention yet, but we’re getting close. She told one of our staff yesterday, in Russian, that she was not going to eat any of our poisoned food, that she wasn’t some kind of lab experiment and that we were animals for not just shooting her in the head to get it over with.”

All of the air in Bucky’s lungs came out in one hard breath like he’d been punched in the chest, and he had to brace himself against the windowsill to keep his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

“Bucky?” Steve gasped at Bucky’s sudden weakness, grabbing onto his friend’s arm and placing a gentle hand on his back. ”What? Are you feeling the stuff Dr. Austin mentioned?”

Bucky grit his teeth and closed his eyes at the onslaught of memory fragments bombarding him. “No, I’m… I don’t know, maybe? I just… she’s…” Bucky’s thoughts were so jumbled he could barely form a coherent sentence, even in his head. He made a choked off noise that sounded more like a sob before he lifted his head to look at Y/N. “She’s reliving my captivity with Hydra. This… this was after I was transferred from the facility the Russians held me in after they found me to the one where Zola did his experiments. They were, umm, they were testing the limits of the serum, trying to figure out what I could survive.”

Steve’s face dropped and he took a sharp breath in. Bucky’s captivity and torture was not something he talked about often outside his therapy sessions. Steve only knew a handful of stories, ones that had come directly from Bucky’s mouth, and even then they were very hard stories for him to tell—lots of starting and stopping, frequent breaks, and plenty of tears. But here, with two extra people with him, and one being a stranger?

“Buck, you don’t have to talk about it,” Steve whispered.

“No, I need… she said exactly what I said to the guards who brought me food one day.” Bucky swallowed hard, flexing his fingers against the painted metal of the windowsill, the cold against his flesh hand grounding him. “They were testing different poisons and how the serum would fight it off… arsenic, ricin, even different kinds of snake and spider venom. I had seizures, strokes, and my heart stopped so many times I lost count.”

“Fucking hell,” Tony murmured, leaning against the wall behind them, his face a few shades paler than it was ten minutes ago. “Y/N is reliving your memories, reliving your life.”

“We need to find a way to pull her out of this,” Bucky said, straightening up with determination even though his bones felt like liquid and his mind was full of numbing static. If Y/N was reliving his life, even if it didn’t seem like the moments were in order, he knew it was only a matter of time until she would experience how the Winter Soldier was born, how he was forged, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Dr. Austin nodded and looked back at her patient through the glass. “If my theory is correct, which I believe it is based on your shared memories and brain scans, Y/N’s mind has somehow melded with yours. And your memories, powered by your mind’s energy, have somehow taken over hers, suppressing her personality completely. I don’t know if it was some kind of dormant mutant ability that was activated by the trauma of her captivity and torture, or something else… but there is obviously some kind of link between the two of you that we don’t have the technology to test for and verify. You’re essentially feeding her your memories, which is why your brain is lit up like that and why you’re expending so much energy.”

“It’s like she’s stuck inside one of Stark’s virtual reality headsets and can’t take it off, experiencing everything I went through while my brain keeps playing her different…” Bucky trailed off and his eyes widened before his head snapped to look at Y/N through the glass.

In a flash of movement, Bucky grabbed Dr. Austin’s ID badge from where it was clipped onto her white coat and darted for the door to Y/N’s room, scanning the badge so the door opened with a green light and soft click. Bucky, ignoring the shouts of his name and hands trying to grab at him to pull him back, opened the door and shut it firmly behind him, engaging the door’s auto-lock safety feature that he knows secure wings of hospitals have. The group outside would need to find another ID badge to get in, which would buy him some time.

Y/N’s wide and terrified eyes settled on him, and she tilted her head in an almost confused dog-like fashion, her eyes softening with an air of familiarity. Bucky could feel the hunger gnawing at his stomach turn into sharp cramps that almost made him double over, and there was a soft circle of darkness starting to creep in around his vision.

Bucky took three large steps forward, and even though she flinched away at his sudden movement, Y/N didn’t scramble away to try and avoid his hands as he lifted them. Her weary bloodshot eyes were full of unshed tears, and the closer Bucky’s hands got to her face, the more she began to tremble.

“You’re safe,” he whispered to her in Russian, before repeating the same sentiment in English.

The moment his fingers, both flesh and metal, touched the skin on either side of her face, it felt like he was on the wrong side of an attack from Thor’s hammer. Whatever weakness and hunger he’d been feeling was burned out of his body at the sheer shock cascading through his entire being. It didn’t hurt, but it was bordering on wildly uncomfortable, and Bucky was afraid he’d never be able to let go, his hands stuck to Y/N like a magnet.

There was something different passing between them, more than what touch alone could provide. Trying to understand everything that was happening was overwhelming, but when Bucky focused, he could almost feel Y/N inside his mind, like another whisper of a presence, a ghost in his consciousness. When he reached out in his head for her where he’d felt the ghost of her presence, he was assaulted with bursts of memories he knew were not his own, images of unfamiliar people, places, and things flashing in his mind like photographs. Bucky's curiosity was almost childlike, awestruck and trying to understand what his brain was comprehending, sorting through what Y/N was showing him.

The more information Bucky absorbed, the darker each memory became until it felt like he was wading through molasses, each image being harder and harder to move past. A hoarse whisper of “No” echoed in his mind, and Bucky couldn’t tell if it was his own voice or Y/N’s.

A solid arm wrapped around Bucky’s middle, one much more firm than human flesh would be, and pulled him backward until his hands dropped from Y/N’s face, breaking whatever connection had refused to release him when he’d touched her. Reality came rushing back, and the room and people around him flashed into existence, the change in environment and sound disorienting him and leaving him panting for breath, his knees wobbling.

“She…” Bucky looked over at Y/N, who was just as distressed, and watched her collapse onto the bed, unconscious, before his vision blacked out and darkness took him as well.

***

Connected Tags: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @that-one-gay-girl @fanofalltheficsx @joseyrw @lana-writes-04 @gia-25 @klanceiscannon14 @ahahafudge

#connected #part 4 #marvel series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #reader insert #bucky barnes x y/n #angst #medical stuff

[salparadiselost]

Incubus AU- Alternative Scene

This is an alternative version of the first scene in the last chapter of “Let the Devil In”. I had originally written it in Tim’s POV, until I decided I needed it to be in Damian’s POV. 

So yeah, here’s an alternative version in Tim’s POV. Not all the details match up because some things got changed in the final version, but I figured some people might enjoy it!

Story Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151114

“I will not remain at the bottom of the pack,” the little demon hissed, and the sound rang dangerously in Tim’s ears. It had lost the annoyance, and now held a tone as sharp as a snake’s fang. “because I’m going to put you there.”

Damian struck and it was only Tim’s Robin training that saved him from getting a knife to the throat.

Unfortunately, if did mean that he got an angry demon ramming into his shoulder. The kid ploughed into him like a truck, knocking him from his feet and making him fall messily on the ground. The landing was awkward and sent a sharp pain up his arm that told him he might of just broke his wrist. He couldn’t deal with that though, not with a small ball of fury about to bring his knife to Tim’s throat again.

The Luciferean smiled in cruel glee, slashing the weapon forward. Tim jerked to the side, twisting to his feet and barely missed another attack.

But before he could really gain his balance, or figure out what the hell was going on, the little demon was on top of him again. Tim blocked another jab of the knife and swung his foot out to catch the demon. The Luciferean had to twist to avoid the leg, and it gave Tim an opening to smack the knife out of his hand and send it flying across the room.

“You’ve been trained,” Damian noted, jumping out of Tim’s arm reach to circle him from a safe distance. Tim held his hurt wrist to his chest, trying to ignore the slices of pain coming from the limb.

Tim accessed the little demon warily, turning so his back was never to Damian. “What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled, and he flinched when the sound was more human than demon.

“I’m challenging you and taking a better place in the hierarchy,” he said nonchalantly, even though his eyes were anything but careless. He watched him like a serpent preparing to strike.

“And you’ll do that by killing me?” Tim said incredulously, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Damian scoffed and the sound was as cruel as his knife’s edge. “I do not intend to kill you, sex toy. I intend to make you submit. You are nothing but a weak excuse of a weak species of demon.”

Tim couldn’t completely hide his flinch, and Damian’s smile widened. “And you know that, too. You know that you’re just an inferior little plaything that Todd is keeping around for entertainment.”

“No, I’m not.” Tim snapped, trying to growl like Jason did, but his body betrayed him, and the sound came out cracked.

Damian snorted at the pathetic attempt. “I can’t believe Todd thinks I will bow to the likes of you.”

Tim opened his mouth to say something else, but Damian launched himself at Tim.

Tim tried to dodge, but Damian was prepared for it. He grabbed Tim’s already hurt wrist, and yanked, using Tim’s momentum to topple him back on to the floor. He had felt an internal pop, and when he hit the ground, agony sliced across his dislocated shoulder. Damian pressed his small weight against the injury and made it scream in pain.

Tim choked down a sob, and the little demon’s confidence seemed to crumble for a second. Suddenly, the Luciferean was a kid again. Just a scared kid who was desperately trying be a part of a pack and didn’t understand what he was doing.

“Damian,” Tim said, fighting to keep his voice even through the pain. The boy’s weight on his shoulder lightened and the younger demon stared at him with wide eyes. “You don’t need to do this.”

“But I do,” Damian insisted, and Tim could see frustrated tears in his eyes. “Todd hates me. I need to show him that I deserve to stay. I’m not weak.” “This isn’t the way to do that.”

Damian hesitated, before suddenly his gaze steeled and became knife sharp. “This is the only way.” He growled, pressing into Tim’s shoulder with renewed viciousness. He howled as pain screamed through his arm.

“Submit, sex slave,” Damian yelled above him, his tiny face twisted. “Just submit already.”

“No,” Tim spat. He tried to flip them, using his greater weight to pin the boy, but Damian sharpened his hand into claws and ground them into Tim’s shoulder. Five knife slices scorched his skin and Tim spasmed in pain.

Panic rose in his throat and made his breath stutter. The fear that his adrenaline had been keeping at bay, suddenly roared to the surface, threatening to overtake everything.

The kid didn’t seem like a kid anymore. 

He was a demon.

A demon with the intent to cause him pain and rejoice in it. A demon that wanted nothing more than to see him whimpering on the ground. A demon that only wanted to win and crush Tim under his foot. 

Be careful of the Luciferean. They only want power, and they don’t care who they hurt to get it. 

Jason was right and now Damian was going to make him pay in pain because of it.

The demon over him tasted like victory and instead of being sweet, it was sour enough to choke. 

Desperately, Tim scrabbled for the bonds in his chest, thinking that maybe he could get someone’s attention if he yanked them hard enough. 

“No,” Damian commanded, voice hard, “None of that.” 

Then, Tim’s bond with Damian felt like it was on fire. It burned. It scorched. It made Tim feel like he was being burned from the inside out. 

He screamed as his world was swallowed in agony and flame.

“Submit,” hissed the demon in his ear, “submit to me, incubus.”

Tim couldn’t even think past the pain to answer.

Where was his pack? Where was Jason and Dick and Bruce? Why weren’t they here?

He keened and it was a long, painful sound that came the back of his throat. Then, there was a growl, much too deep to Damian’s and a yelp. The weight that had been digging into his shoulder was suddenly lifted, and there was a crash across the room. “Get the fuck off of him,” Jason snarled, and the sound reverberated through Tim’s bones.

Tim struggled, his hands trying to find purchase on the polished wood below him, and he let out another whining keen because he wanted Jason to save him. 

His brother’s growl impossibly deepened, becoming heart-stoppingly dangerous. Tim had never heard a more comforting sound. He wanted Jason to come here and take him away, to curl him under his chin and make everything safe again. 

Please, Jason, come.

“I told you to stay away from him, Luciferean.”

The smaller demon was crumpled on the other side of the room (had Jason thrown him?), but then stood in a single fluid motion. He stuck his chin up in defiance, spine as straight as a soldier.

“Todd, I have defeated this lesser demon in combat, and I wish to advance my place in the pack hierarchy.”

There was a long pause and then suddenly, Jason was laughing.

The sound was scary and full of menace. It was so deep and cutting that only an adult demon could have made it. The confidence in Damian’s stance cracked a bit.

“I told you if you put one foot out of line that I would break your pack bond,” Jason purred, stepping forward. Damian took an equal step back, his mouth falling open. “And this is more than a fucking step. I should have known never to trust you. You don’t deserve to be pack.”

The little demon flinched, his face spasming between keeping his stone face and melting into disbelief. “But, I, it was to impress you.”

“You thought torturing my little brother would impress me!” Jason yelled, everything in him was furious. Damian tried to take another step back, but he hit the wall. The little demon cowered away, and Tim could feel the fear coming off of him.

“That’s how,” Damian tried to defend himself, “That’s how you earn your place.” “No, it isn’t!” the oldest demon rose to his full height. “But it does make me reconsider your place to begin with.”

Damain’s eyes widened in horror as Jason began to say the words that chilled Tim to his core. They weren’t even directed at him, but they still spoke to Tim’s deepest fears. 

And apparently, Damian’s too if the pure horror on his face was anything to go by.

“Damian, as the Heart of the pack…”

Tim felt the bond between him and Damian sink into heart-breaking resignation and the hollow loneliness that Tim knew like the back of his hand. The loneliness was so sharp that felt like Tim’s own and he realised he couldn’t let this happen to pack.

“Jason,” he said, his voice quiet, until he repeated louder. “Jason.”

His older brother paused in his words, and glanced at Tim. His brother’s anger was still there, but underneath was that ever-present undercurrent of sibling protectiveness. 

“Don’t do it,” Tim commanded, shakily getting to his feet. His side was on fire and he grit his teeth through the flare up of pain. “Don’t cut his bonds.”

Jason startled, eyes blinking in disbelief. He looked the obviously injured Tim up and down, clearing not understanding why he would say that. “Tim, he hurt you. He manipulated his bonds against you.”

“I’m fine,” Tim isn’t, even though his shoulder screamed in protest. “I’ve had worse hits on patrol.”

Jason didn’t look convinced but he backed away from looming over Damian. He edged over to Tim and caught his face in his hands. Jason searched his eyes, fury gone and replaced with worry. 

The earnest expression on the feared vigilante almost made Tim chuckle. Figures, that his older brother would go straight into mother-henning mode. Dick was rubbing off on him.

“Are you sure?” Jason whispered.

Tim hummed and gave a reassuring little chirrup out of pure instinct. Huh, he hadn’t even realised he could make that sound. 

The noise seemed to relax something frantic in Jason, though, and his older brother rubbed his forehead against Tim’s.

“Alright, let’s go find Dickiebird and Alfred, so we can get you fixed up.” Jason began to motion around Tim, practically pushing him out the door. Tim rolling his eyes at the manhandling, but allowed his brother to fuss over him.

Before Jason could shove him out of the room, though, Tim looked back at the smaller demon. 

Damian was curled against the wall, staring at them in shock and disbelief, like he couldn’t even comprehend what he was seeing. He was crouched, partially obscured with shadows, and his eyes gleamed. Tim had the sneaking suspicion that it was because of unshed tears.

Tim felt the bond between them, weak, but definitely there. The kid was miserable and the emotions around him were a noxious mix of fear, disbelief and confusion. It made something inside Tim whine and want to bundle the kid up, even though he had literally just put a knife to his throat. 

When Damian saw Tim looking at him, his emotions immediately shut down, sealed away completely from Tim.

That didn’t matter, though, Tim saw the emotions shining through the kid’s teary eyes. 

“You stay here,” Jason barked to Damian, making the kid flinch back. “I’m coming back later to deal with you.”

When Tim looked up, he saw that Jason’s eyes were all demonic ire. A chill ran down his spine and he felt a fear for Jason that he hadn’t felt since Hood had cornered him in the Titans Tower.

He felt sorry for the small demon. 

He just hoped Jason would find it in himself to give the kid some mercy.

---

Check out the full story at https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151114

Cheers!

#My writing #writing #batfam #batfamily fic #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #kay speaks #The Demon AU

[siorca]

Autobots set up cameras to spy on the Decepticons but they instead witness Momma Soundwave (any verse)

Anon I have no idea why you send me this prompt because I literally have not written in years, but I felt inspired. Didn’t edit, might fuck around and put a proper version on my AO3:

“What are you doing?”

Ratchet was tired, and the throb of a processor ache buzzed between his optics. His voice echoed his state, dull and unperturbed where he might have shown a level of concern on a good day. Meetings with Prowl tended to do that. Primus, did he have respect for that mech, but how frustrating it was to sway his stubborn nature on issues of medicine.

Sideswipe spared him a passing glance, returning to his task with added fever, as if completing it quickly could keep Ratchet from spoiling his fun. Ratchet had pulled rank on him for more minor infractions before. In a rare case of fortune, Ratchet had no interest in the resulting paperwork today.

Laid before him was one of the few drones that the Ark still had left, between the crash, Decepticon interference, and drunken Autobot hassling. Its simple processor was split open neatly, and Sideswipe moved between its internals with precision. In another life, Ratchet would have gladly mentored him as a junior surgeon for such a display, but knowing what he knew of him after millions of years, he could only muster a vague sort of impressed detachment.

Sunstreaker was only a few feet away, not contributing much, aside from a cool atmosphere, leaned against the wall like he was the last line of defense before a sudden collapse. While Sunstreaker rarely participated in Sideswipe’s more mischievous endeavors, he was never far behind to witness the fallout, like a specter of misfortune. A classic form of sibling bonding, in Ratchet’s experience.

He locked optics with Ratchet, raising an expectant optic ridge, the edges of a smug smile pulling at his lips. Ratchet waved at him in polite greeting.

Sideswipe let out a loud huff, hovering over his pet project protectively when he realized Ratchet wasn’t moving - mostly because a majority of the hallway had been turned into a makeshift workshop and Ratchet ached in too many places to try maneuvering around the little space left for travel.

“I’m winning a bet,” he said, oozing the brand of determined confidence that only Sideswipe was foolish enough to exude. Ratchet rubbed his optics, unimpressed, trying to keep his processor ache from spreading. Deflated, Sideswipe fiddled with his screwdriver a moment more, ducking back into his task, neatly and swiftly installing a small camera in the midst of the fissures he had created in the cranial unit.

“And what bet involves you vandalizing Autobot property?”

“He thinks the Decepticons have a pet sea monster,” Sunstreaker supplied, helpfully. “He got hooked on one of Hound’s stories about Earth creatures.”

“What?” said Sideswipe, incensed. “Just because the humans haven’t been able to get much scientific proof, doesn’t mean the Decepticons haven’t discovered something they missed. They live down there, for Primus’ sake!”

“Don’t you think they would have managed to outfit it with some sort of Cyber-tech to make our lives more difficult by now? Megatron would have at least called to brag the first deca-cycle they captured it.”

“Maybe they’re saving it for a secret mission? You never know!”

Ratchet’s shushed them, waving his hands frantically to avoid a brawl. Sunstreaker still looked unperturbed, but Sideswipe’s hackles were raised enough to hint at an inevitable pounce. Sideswipe pouted, welding the suffering drone back together with far more force than was necessary. The camera poked out of its head inelegantly, though blinking steady enough to prove that it worked.

Ratchet held onto only enough processing power to put the pieces together.“Are you...planning on breaking into the Decepticon base with that? To see if they have a sea monster?”

Ratchet was impressed, truth be told. This sort of ingenuity was something that Jazz would be interested in. It was almost a shame that Sideswipe was not cut out for Special Ops. Still, he could appreciate the craftsmanship, not to mention the sheer absurdity of going to these levels for the sake of pride. It reminded him of something Wheeljack would do, and it was only the fond thought of his conjunx that fueled his further investment.

“Yeah. Good to make sure the ‘cons aren’t planning anything.” Sunstreaker scoffed behind him. Sideswipe shot a glare over his shoulder.

“Huh,” said Ratchet. “If only you could muster this much effort on any of your assigned projects.”

Sideswipe sputtered in indignation, standing from his crouched position. He naturally towered over Ratchet, but knew better than to use his bulk for intimidation where Ratchet was involved. Sunstreaker snickered behind him. The drone, which had finished powering up, chirped, hovering around Sideswipe’s knees like an eager youngling.

Sideswipe gathered himself, brushing past

Ratchet brusquely. “Excuse me, I have a point to make,” he shot over his shoulder. The drone chirped again, matching his pace quickly. Sunstreaker peeled himself away from the wall, trailing behind him, sighing dramatically.

Ratchet looked down the empty expanse of hallway, his quarters tantalizingly close. The processor ache was starting to fade, replaced with a dangerous curiosity. “You doing this now?”

“No time better.”

“Curfew is soon.”

“So?” said Sideswipe, crossing his arms in a defensive manner.

Ratchet sighed, cursing every weak process in his body that caused him to make equally as foolish decisions as those around him. “So, it’s best to have an officer escort you. After all, said officer might be able to cover for you if you happen to be late.”

Sideswipe grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m more so interested in seeing if your monstrosity can get the job done.” Said monstrosity beeped irritatedly, as if its neglect was a personal affront to something that held no personality.

Sunstreaker groaned. “Don’t encourage him. This is only going to end badly.”

“Most likely, but what else do we have to do right now?” said Ratchet, trailing after the strange trio and out of the base.

—

The sun was just beginning to set by the time they made it to the shore, the pinks and oranges of the sky reflecting on the ocean in a dazzling kaleidoscope. In the distance, the one moon was beginning to peek through the clouds, struggling to outshine the fiery final performance of the sun. Humans found something romantic in such periods of transition. Ratchet, of a species who built their existence out of transformations, remained nonplussed.

“Mirage mentioned a security loophole near the back hull of the Nemesis a while back. Fancy words for ‘there’s a hole in it.’ Salt water makes it difficult for repairs to take, I guess.” Sideswipe placed the drone near the edge of the water, facing the general direction of where the Nemesis lay dormant. The drone did not move, ever eagerly awaiting orders.

Ratchet made a humming noise. On the other side of the beach, Sunstreaker was hassling a tiny crab that didn’t make it back to the water before low tide. It couldn’t harm him, yet it’s posturing begged to differ. If force of will could kill a mech, Sunstreaker would be in critical condition right now. Sunstreaker smiled crookedly at the creature, taking care not to accidentally step on it.

Sideswipe reached into his subspace for a datapad, tapping at it with his stylus in a rhythmic manner while he waited for it to fully boot up.

“Rigged this up.” Sideswipe waved the awakened pad, the crisp image of the sunset on full view.

“Clever,” said Ratchet. “You even sure the drone’s going to survive the water?” Most Cybertronian tech did not play well with salt water. One of the drawbacks of being born on a planet that was not intimate with the substance.

“It’s survived this long. Seems to be made of sturdier stuff than the average drone.” Sideswipe patted it good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“If you say so. Let’s get started before a ‘con patrol shows up.” Ratchet waved Sunstreaker over. He grumbled something too low to hear, moving down the beach. Once reunited, he folded his arms, cocking one hip to the side in his usual aloof stance, shooting his brother a challenging glare. Sideswipe stuck his glossa out at him in retaliation.

Sideswipe turned his attention to the datapad. He nudged the drone with his foot. It beeped, inching its way forward slowly. He nudged it again, the drone making a more affronted noise, quickening its pace.

There was a palpable tension as the drone immersed itself, the watery image of the Pacific melting into itself as the camera adjusted to its new temporary home. The image crisped the deeper it went, the shapes of small fish, scampering away from their newest visitor, becoming clearer. Sideswipe let out a whoop of excitement, the drone dutifully fulfilling its task and Sunstreaker huffed in annoyance.

“Well I’ll be slagged,” said Ratchet, placing his hands on his hips in astonishment. Autobot ingenuity was truly only at its best when petty pride was involved.

The drone traveled deeper, the pressure of the depths squeezing around the hydraulics in its lower half, slowing its momentum only slightly. The remains of the Nemesis were laid deep, near to the point where light had difficulty penetrating to the sea floor. Just enough sunlight peeked through to illuminate the remains of coral and the clinging vines of seaweed crisscrossing the outer hull. It looked monstrous in the semi-dark. If any sea monsters were lurking here, the Nemesis could certainly qualify as one with the right argument.

A large hole, poorly obscured by a large wad of algae, pocketed the side, toward the back. Small creatures hovered near it, mistaking it for a haven from the larger predators. The drone made its way through the throng, scampering up the remaining shrapnel that passed for a crude ramp into the interior. Inside, the Decepticons had managed to use some feat of engineering to stave off the water after a few feet. The result was a lagoon in the middle of what Ratchet would assume was the remains of part of the cargo bay.

Emergency lights flickered overhead, bathing the otherwise empty space in an eerie, energon-pink glow. The bay was smaller than expected, only made more obvious by the tall wall of concrete, sectioning off one side, no doubt to protect their precious mechanical stores on the other side. The drone gave a quick sweep of the area.

Sunstreaker tapped his foot impatiently. “Nothing here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we just got here,” shushed Sideswipe.

A convenient ventilation shaft lay across the room, wide enough to pass through. The drone meandered its way there, clambering inside with little effort. The tunnel was dark, but the basic night vision on the drone could make out the forward path.

“They probably have it stored somewhere where they can keep an eye on it,” said Sideswipe, matter-of-factly.

Ratchet kept a close optic on the screen, his sharp senses picking up the tell tale notes of conversation. Up ahead, a vent peaked out into a hallway, somewhere near the living quarters. Ratchet hushed them, pointing at the screen firmly. Valuable reconnaissance was important, regardless if sea monsters were involved or not.

Sideswipe commandeered the drone toward the vent, tilting the datapad to encourage the drone to look through the grates. It pressed up against them firmly. Even distorted, the distinct, blocky shape of Soundwave was hard to mistake, two smaller bodies with him that could only be his own pair of twins.

One brother was cradled in his arms with a painful looking dent in his right cheek. A sour frown marred his face while his body sagged in an overdramatic sprawl over Soundwave’s arm. The other had his arms crossed over his chest, his visible forearm sporting a nasty scratch, petulant scowl twisting his features.

“You must mind your strength, Rumble. You nearly cracked Frenzy’s optic,” chastised Soundwave, gentle and firm in only the way a creator could manage. There weren’t many of those left, between the two armies, and it only made it extra bizarre to hear such a rare tone from Soundwave, of all mechs.

It was obvious that the drone had stumbled upon some sort of familiar conflict. Perhaps not imperative to the war effort, but tantalizing all the same.

“Should they be doing this out in the hallway?” said Sideswipe, absentmindedly.

Sunstreaker shrugged. “Maybe it’s a Decepticon thing.”

On the feed, a loud huff came from Rumble. “Well, he started it!”

“And yet I have told both of you multiple times to stop rough-housing.”

“Soundwave, I’m fine,” piped up Frenzy, drooping further down Soundwave’s hip. He seemed to be trying to turn himself into pure liquid in order to escape his creator’s arms. Soundwave only tightened his hold.

“That is not the point. You will seriously hurt each other one day. Last week, you nearly blew out Rumble’s audials. What will it be next time?” Soundwave’s words must have struck a nerve. Frenzy had the decency to look bashful, pausing in his squirming. Rumble simply pursed his lips.

“Both of you must be more careful until you have better control of your sigma abilities.” Soundwave finally freed Frenzy from his makeshift prison, who promptly scampered to his brother’s side.

Soundwave’s concern was familiar to Ratchet, echoing a time long ago when creators used to bring their Outlier sparklings to his Dead End clinic. Those whose abilities were extreme enough to affect their health or those around them and the rarer cases of those that thought he might be able to help control their abilities.

He empathized with him. Soundwave himself was an infamously powerful telepath, and it was only logical that his creations would inherit some sort of power. The proof was in their terror on the battlefield, the few times that they had participated in the more small scale scuffles. He had nearly forgotten how this would reflect in what would pass for home these days.

Soundwave sighed, for the moment deflated. “Go to Hook. He owes me a favor. Make sure to behave yourselves.” The twins nodded, for now behaving themselves as they made their way down the opposite side of the hallway. Soundwave, himself walked a few doors down, assuredly to his own quarters.

Sideswipe pulled the drone away from the grate. “Give them a few days, they’ll be right back to trying to kill each other.”

Sunstreaker grinned. “Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a round 2 before they hit the medbay.”

Ratchet barked a laugh. “Probably.”

“Now to find that sea monster.”

#cass fics

[septnautical]

Sketchy Meetings

Marvin was tossing and turning in their cave- his mind spinning from the images plaguing him. He panted and whined in his sleep, eyes shut tight. He was so warm the water felt unnaturally cold…

It was following him- he had to swim faster- faster! He tried to glance behind, thinking for a second he lost it...but then, he smashes head first into a body. He screeches, bubbles flying out of his mouth and almost stealing his breath away. Blue glowing claws shoot out through the froth and tries to grab Marvin. But, the merman shot backwards- his heart was pounding so loud in his ears.

Two pairs of glowing pink eyes stare down at its prey- a sickly white mask on its face, long flowing green hair floating around its head like a seaweed halo. It swam almost mechanically- but still too fast for Marvin to predict. It lashed out and drove Marvin into the ground, digging claws into his shoulders. Marvin screamed and tried to wrap one of his tails around the creature, then both his tails. It wouldn’t budge- if anything it pressed up against him harder. Its face leaned down and a broken mechanical noise like a ruined receiver whispered to him.

“How long will it be till you fall again?” Marvin shook and blinked tears out of his eyes as they floated away to join the dark water. Even though he can’t see the bottom of its face- he feels like its smiling, enjoying his pain. It laughs then gets right in Marvin’s face, so they are touching nose to nose.

“When will you become me again, Marvin?” His controlled self cackled- and Marvin was shaking his head, trying to find his voice. But- it was being stolen from him again- the ringing and static starting to fill his head. He sobs, feeling that numbness he despised so much-

“P-Please-” He pleades to the clone, “I… I’m not like you-! I..I won’t be a w-weapon for them! I… I’m not a machine!”

The twisted version of him shakes its head and laughs harder, before increasing the pain yet again. All that Marvin could see was its eyes and that horrible, horrible mask.

“We can’t change what we are- this is inevitable.”

Pink and static filled Marvin’s vision as he screams-

With a jolt, Marvin sprang up in the cave, hardly able to catch his breath. His eyes were wide and he gripped a hand over his chest, as if he could claw that horrible awful feeling out again.

He started to hear something close to ringing- sending him into further panic as he searched around desperately for his mask. Marvin sees it just a bit from him and he snatches it up, hurriedly putting it on- not caring if it snagged on his hair. With the mask on, he started to relax some, sinking into the sand and holding himself. That… was one of the worst nightmares he’d been getting… but it kept happening- and each time he panicked in the same way. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, frustrated- exhausted.

The warper mer looked back to his brothers- Anti and Jameson were curled around each other. Jameson had a peaceful smile on his face- and Anti’s posture was actually relaxed. He was finally starting to trust them again- knowing that he didn’t have to hide or reject touch from his family anymore. It was a big step… and yet, Marvin couldn’t help but feel a weight on his chest.

...Why wasn’t he getting better?

Marvin snorted quietly to himself, anxiously balling up his fists and feeling restless. He would wake up the others if he tried to join them… and he wasn’t sure he could handle it either. That’s why he’d been sleeping on his own anyways… Henrik had started doing it too. But- he couldn't just stay in the cave… he was too agitated. He looked back out the mouth of the cave then back to his brothers. He swallowed stiffly, took his ribbon off his wrist and tied up his hair messily- then quietly and swiftly took off into the night sea.

Marvin knew he could warp away- but… it was nice to do something more natural. Like… he wasn’t just some… He tried to steer away from that thought. He wasn’t… he knew he wasn’t. He placed a hand over his heart as he swam, the rhythm of it a small comfort.

The path Marvin took was random- but it had drawn him to the Ocean Arm’s base. It made sense… even if they were keeping their distance because of those new white suits… Before that they had spent so much time there. Learning all new things, talking to the blue suits, playing with equipment. The blue suits… really cared about them all it seemed. They never tried to pull his brothers or him into random dark rooms for answers to their questions- knocking them out or taking random samples. They… just simply asked. And- it was nice to answer... who knew it was possible? The boys had never really seen compassion or patience with the white suits… they took answers and asked questions after (if at all). And if neither the blue suits or them knew- they could go look or find stuff… and it didn’t have to be painful if the boys were uncomfortable. It was nice… and they even taught them to make their cool machines!

It really made Marvin… feel something different. That he wasn’t some lab freak- that he was more than just- something fake… some creation- a machine. Some days it would make Marvin think…

Was this what it was like? To be human?

But, Marvin couldn’t let himself think like that. He knew what he was- or... at least he thought he did. Now, he wasn’t so sure. And it scared him.

Marvin swam over the base and looked down. Most of the lights were off, only the machines’ lights flickering below the surface. That made sense… it was night. But- Marvin saw one of the bubble like structures that was lit up bright. He didn’t want to be in the dark… or wake anyone else up by going into the base. So, without really thinking, he swam over to the bright place and looped over it for a second before he settled on the glass. He pulled his tails to his chest and then wrapped his cape around himself- kinda like he saw the blue suits do. It was actually kinda nice… warm in a way he didn’t expect. He was ready to just lay over the bright glass and drift back to sleep- but then the sound of a hatch opening had him startling up.

Over the side of the bubble glass- a female face popped up, goggles over what… looked like a second pair of goggles? Short cropped hair flew up with her momentum as she curiously peeked out.

Marvin had never seen this one- it couldn’t be a blue suit then. He quickly swam up, tails shaking as he stared at the white suit with wide eyes. He’d warp away- but she could have a weapon! He was scared- he was really scared- and he could feel his warp powers wavering. That wasn’t good- was she doing something to him??

The girl fully popped up and quickly held out a hand to the merman. “Wait!” She called, sounding just as panicked as Marvin. “I- didn’t mean to scare you! You… just scared me when I was working is all!”

The warper gave her a look, a laugh coming from him before he can stop it. “I scared you? How is that possible?”

The girl seemed to flush but she fully swam up to be a eye level with the merman. She had a glowing PDA in her hands- but… it wasn’t filled with the stuff Marvin usually saw on them. Instead of diagrams and long blocks of words- it was.. Drawings? He thinks that’s what they’re called? She had a pointy looking stick stuck behind her ear- but it didn’t look sharp, it was blunt. That would make an awful weapon…

“Oh well- I was working in this observation pod because i was… uh- studying the nighttime creatures. I wanted to look at their bioluminescence.” Marvin gave her a confused look and she quickly responded, “Glowing! The.. fish that can glow in the dark-” She giggled then gestured to Marvin. “Kinda like you!”

Marvin knit his eyebrows together and looked down at his tails- he was giving off a soft blue and purple glow. But, her just sitting here and watching… that didn’t sound right.

“Why don’t you go and catch one?” Marvin asks, a bit of venom in his voice. The girl now looked confused- and she pushed back her hair to keep it out of her face as she held her PDA close.

“Oh, I’m no hunter. I like to study them naturally! I don’t want to make any of the fish scared- they’re so much prettier to look at when they’re swimming and free-”

“What would you know about swimming free, white suit?!” Marvin suddenly growled, baring his fangs.

“W-What?” She stammered, swimming back a bit.

“Were you just- sitting there studying things in- in their tanks! Watching the ‘pretty’ fishes and- and my brothers trapped in there! Doing nothing but watching?!” He started to shout, feeling his anger rising almost painfully.

The girl looked scared (which she should be) but… she didn’t run. She tried to get a bit closer and Marvin growled, curling his tails up towards him and getting into a defensive position. The girl kept her distance but didn’t back away- her voice was gentle. Like.. Dr. Danan when she wanted them to calm down.

“I.. I think you’re confused-” She said, expression concerned. “T-the people that I came with.. N-none of us were part of the... The hybrid experiments. I.. I didn’t even know we had anything like that- i… I just studied and drew out in nature! Out in the ocean and provided visuals- I.. I had no idea about you… a-and your brothers.” She seems genuine, which has Marvin pausing and starting to uncurl.

“That… blonde one… and the d-dark haired one with goggles.. They said the same thing…” He muttered, remembering the day the crash happened. The girl cocks her head at his descriptions, then speaks up.

“O-oh yeah- I bet Stacy scared you… she can get intense. Especially when someone is hurt- that’s why she was a nurse-” The girl adds quietly, a sheepish look on her face. “And Goog- oh um… Tillman- he’s kinda scary. He takes charge very well- but he has a voice that kinda reminds me of a robot.” She giggles, “D-Don’t tell him I said that! He’s actually very kind… and can be funny.”

Marvin turns to really study the girl now, just daring to get a bit closer. He sees- what looks like seaweed bandages wrapped over part of her head, and scratches on her cheeks and neck.

“...you were the one hurt… that day-” The merman mumbled.

The girl blinks and then laughs a bit, “Oh! You saw me then? I… guess I was-” She seems to nervously push back her hair to lightly massage the bandaged area. “I don’t remember much from the crash- I just remembered danger.. And scary lights- I remember seeing the kids and hurrying to do something… then it was black.” She giggles quietly, reserved, “I’m just glad they all got out alright… we may have only been neighbors… but I really like those kids.”

“...you talk a lot-” Marvin found himself saying. The girl’s face turned even redder.

“O-Oh? I.. I guess I do- I ramble.. I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to make you…”

Marvin got closer and shook his head. “No- it’s… okay. Just… weird.”

The girl cocks her head again, “Weird? Why is that?”

Marvin had trouble finding the words, “You.. don’t act like a white suit…”

The girl still looked confused. “Is that a compliment?” She laughs a bit nervously. Marvin nodded.

“Yeah… it is-” He found himself responding again without thinking. Then, he backs up a bit and messes with his mask- his hair.

“M-My brothers- w-we call… t-the people in HQ… they’re the white suits… because of-”

“-The white on the suits...!” They both end up saying, the girl realizing as Marvin spoke. She stopped and covered her mouth. She looks at her suit- it's the last intact one she had from home: white, orange and black.

“I.. I’m really sorry-” She warbled out, “I… I had no idea- If I knew there were creatures- …human-like things in our facility- I never would have stayed there!” She ends the sentence with a type of fire in her eyes, passion making her voice raise.

Marvin felt his chest tighten slightly. She- saw them- him… as human-like? That… used to scare him- but… right now it gives him some comfort. He gave the white suit a small timid smile. She paused then smiled back.

After a few seconds of silence, the girl seemed trouble by the quiet and quickly swam a bit closer and stuck out her hand. “I’m Lizzie! By the way- Elizabeth actually- but i don’t like Elizabeth… L-Lizzie Scott!” She still kept her distance but seemed to hold her hand out invitingly. Marvin hesitated, confused by the gesture… but then he remembered meeting Zara. This- is what Humans did when they meet someone. Slowly, the merman creeps a bit closer, the white yellow light from below lighting him up instead of the cold blues of his membrane. The girl seemed to suck in air in her mask at the sight, making Marvin’s stomach drop slightly. Did he scare her? Was it his mask?

She notices the hesitance and quickly bridges some of the distance again, “Oh no- I’m sorry! I… have just never gotten to see a Warper up close! Or… a-anything like you…” She sounds- starstruck. “You’re…like nothing I’ve ever seen before…” The phrasing of that almost has Marvin swimming back again. It reminds him too much of the white suits- they used to tell him how beautiful him and his brothers were…. But it was all a trick- used to placate them. But… coming from her- from Lizzie, it sounds different.

He finds himself repeating something she said earlier, a light but stressed laugh escaping him. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Lizzie seems taken a back- but soon she’s laughing too, hiding her laugh behind her hand. “Y-Yes- it absolutely is!”

Marvin feels himself relax then and once again, he slowly advances. He offers his hand to her, a sheepish and unsure expression hidden behind his mask- showing in his eyes.

“...Marvin-” He whispers, feeling a rush of… some emotion he’s not sure of. “My name is Marvin.”

Lizzie is quickly smiling again, seeming overjoyed. She takes his hand then shakes it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marvin!”

Marvin chuckles a bit uneasily, but he nods. “Um… s-same- .. i think.”

The refugee studies Marvin for a second before getting just a bit closer, hugging her pda to herself again.

“Hey… I know you’re probably anxious being around… people who are from the place you… got hurt from… but would you like to sit with me?” Her cheeks seem to flush again as she looks at the merman with a shy expression. “I… noticed you sitting on top of the bubble… and I figured it might have been just the light cuz its dark… but- you looked kinda lonely too…”

Marvin hesitated and looked away slightly. He… didn’t want to admit it. But he was a bit… he didn’t want to bother his brothers or wake anyone up. But.. he didn’t have a mama grim- or a scrap pile or favorite place to be. When he feels this way… He’s always so lost.

He finds himself nodding, “... y-yeah… i… think that could be nice…”

Lizzie’s eyes sparkled as she excitedly kicked up in the water with a grin. “G-Great! We can… just chill!”

Marvin knit his eyebrows together, “...like the cold boxes inside?” He asked with confusion. Lizzie erupted into bubbly laughter, bubbles flying up into her hair. “Kinda! Except we don’t have to be cold-” She gently took Marvin’s hand again and brought them back towards the glass bubble, settling on the top of it. As soon as she had sat she let his hand go then sat with her legs over each other, rocking slightly as she placed her pda in her lap. “We say chill to mean like… staying kinda still like something cold- but its just so we can stay in one place and chat!”

“Ohhh-” Marvin answered, settling next to Lizzie and folding one of his tails over the other. It.. felt kinda weird to be this close to someone, being friendly.. And not laying on top of each other. Guess he didn’t spend enough time away from his brothers.

Lizzie was still giggling to herself, “We have lots of silly words and phrases like that!”

Marvin nodded with a polite smile. Lizzie patted her legs kinda then pushed hair away from her face again. “I’m sorry! I’m talking too much again aren’t i?”

The warper shook his head, “No no… it’s okay-... it’s nice.” He looks out into the dark of the ocean around them. He whispered, almost to himself. “... it’s too quiet at night…”

“I think that too!” Lizzie exclaims, “Quiet is only good for sleeping- but I like staying up and… just listening to music or drawing.” She closes her eyes and smiles, “Night is peaceful- and its a cool kind of silence. Like the world is getting rest, and so you can too. Even if you’re not sleeping- it’s like rest for your soul-” She stops and bites her lip, “o-or heart, I should say.” Marvin hummed in thought.

“I… guess it is,” He mumbles, rubbing a hand over his own heart. It… wasn’t racing anymore… he was actually feeling calm even after that nightmare. He was almost feeling… better actually. He didn’t think he could feel like this when he wasn’t around his brothers…

Lizzie let the silence linger for a second, picking up that white stick and starting to push it to the pda’s surface. Lines followed after the point, creating lines that came together...and was forming into something. Marvin wasn’t sure what… but he was intrigued. He knelt a bit closer, watching Lizzie work. They sit there for a few, Lizzie’s eye flicking to look at Marvin every now and again. But, slowly she stops the stick and looks fully back up to the merman.

“Hey, Marvin? Can I ask you a question?” She inquires quietly.

Marvin tilts his head. Then, he smiles. “If I get to ask you one too-”

Lizzie giggles and nods- then pauses and adds back kinda nervously, “Oh- its kinda two! A-Actually…”

Marvin smirks, “Then that means two for me too, right?”

She chuckles and nods, “Yeah!” Then she hesitates before trying to ask. “I like your mask… why do you wear it?”

Marvin visibly flinches, and Lizzie almost immediately responds, “Y-You don’t have to say! I know there’s some things that people don’t like to talk about…”

Marvin touches a hand against his mask, “It’s okay… i-it’s a long story…” He digs some of his nails into the familiar grooves he’s made on its surface. “... it keeps me… as myself- in a way…” He shares just hardly above a whisper.

Lizzie looked confused, and a bit concerned. But, she didn’t push. And that made Marvin feel so much more at ease. “...second question?”

“Oh! Right!” She giggles a bit, then looks back at Marvin with gentle smile.

“Would you mind if I drew you?”

Marvin blinked and tilted his head, looking at the lines on her pda. They… kinda looked like how his cape looked… and his tails.

He looks back up to Lizzie. “...I think so- but can I ask first-?”

“Hm? Oh go ahead!

“...what’s drawing?”

Lizzie looked dumbfounded for a second- then she bursts into giggles and waves her hand. “Oh! Of course you guys don’t know- here! I can show you!”

She twists around then sits legs crossed in front of Marvin and fixes her gaze at him, picking up the white stick and going back to the surface, making marks a lot faster than she was before. Marvin watched in confusion and tried to tilt his head to look but, “hey! Stay still! I’m almost there-” Lizzie said. Marvin didn’t get it but he settles down and tries to watch from the opposite side.

After a few minutes, Lizzie perks up then grabs her PDA and turns it around so Marvin can see. “Ta-da”

On the blue surface of the PDA- the lines came together and made something that looked how Marvin looked. It wasn’t perfect like the cameras the white suits used… but somehow it was nicer. She… made that- without one of the fabricators or other weird gadgets they had. Just… her hands. That was amazing to Marvin.

He swims up closer and pokes at the PDA- expecting to feel the scratchy texture he sees. Lizzie is patient as he looks and traces his finger over the lines. “...that’s me- but… not a picture that your machine takes… right?”

Lizzie nods with a smile. “Yeah! I just take this stylus-” She holds up the stick, “And I use the lines on the surface to try to capture the likeness of things around me!”

“...don’t you have things that can already capture images like that?”

She hums in thought, “Yeah… we have lots of things for that. But. even if its long out of practice- art or well, drawing! Is an important skill- there’s always a need to communicate with drawings… and it’s a way of really understanding the things around us.” She finishes with a smile, but quickly blushes and hides behind the PDA again. “Or… at least I think so- I’m...kind of biased…”

Marvin’s face is looking at the drawing with a strange expression that Lizzie doesn’t know what to think of. Then, he meets her eyes, “...could you teach me?” He asks in a hushed whisper.

Lizzie looked so happy. “Oh! Of course! Ah… I’d have to see if they have extra PDAS like this! But- i’d love to teach you-!”

Marvin waits a second and swishes his tails against the glass before looking back up sheepishly. “...could we… tomorrow?”

Lizzie grins then points a finger at him, “oops! That’s another question!”

The merman’s face falls and he almost withdraws, but Lizzie quickly corrects herself. “Oh! I was teasing!! Of course I’m okay with that!”

He stares at her, then laughs a bit, nodding at Lizzie. She smiles in return. Marvin does still seem a bit nervous though- he looks like he wants to stay- but also like he wants to go.

Eventually he whispers out quietly, “I… should get back to my brothers…”

Lizzie nods and smiles gently, “That’s okay- I do need some sleep for tomorrow!” She giggles then rocks her PDA on her legs, blinking up at Marvin with soft green eyes. “I’m… excited to see you tomorrow…”

Marvin hesitates.. Then smiles. “I… think I am too.” He nods to her and then swims up into the open sea. “Tomorrow night- … I’ll- see you then.”

She giggles and returns the nod, “Okay- be careful getting home!”

The warper mer pauses at this, then gives Lizzie a lazy smirk. She hadn’t see a Warper before right? With a flick of his tail, a warp gate opens right behind him, the purple and blue making the water around them bright. Lizzie gasped then laughed in disbelief. Marvin grins at her, “I think I’ll get there just fine-” He then waves and slips through the gate. As it closes, Marvin sees the energetic white suit wave back.

#septnautical main story #refugees #refugee arc #lizzie scott #warper marvin #marvin’s mask #nightmares #meet cute fluff #another new white suit friend for the boys! #only like- 3-4 more to go |D

[inkribbon796]

I Thought We Were Brothers Ch. 1: Wish I Could Relive Every Single Word

Summary: Marvin and Chase have a lot of unspoken grievances between each other and neither of them know what to do about it.

A/N: For Marvin’s birthday. Chapter title from the song “Brother” by Kodaline.

Chapters: 1, 2

Marvin knew he should say something. Anything at this point was better than the growing chasm opening up between him and several of the Septics. J.J and Henrik were civil on a good day but Chase was a different matter.

It started way before time travelers came came back with grim news, or Marvin first voiced the want to train Chase’s daughter in magic. It began with Robbie.

Sweet, innocent Robbie.

Marvin would never apologize or regret raising the young teen from the dead. He couldn’t.

The magician had looked the young man’s mother dead in the eyes and swore that he’d protect Robbie. Had sworn on his magic and own soul that he would do everything in his power to always bring him back to her alive. And Marvin had done just that, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t tried.

But that night had left Marvin and Chase on unspoken bad terms. Chase ceased trusting Marvin, had started drinking again, and then cleaned himself up a couple months after. The atmosphere, forever spoiled.

After the incident with the Suits, Marvin had ceased trusting Chase as well. Chase now had a part of Clubs forever buried in his soul, and it showed in little ways. His beard was getting trimmed instead of him just allowing it to go wild until he shaved it back. He’d gotten a gun, a real one, and was hiding it in his room in the base. None of the heroes tried to talk about it, but many of them knew it was there. The marksman sometimes made especially barbed jabs at Marvin when he was tired or too exhausted to keep his filter up. Then there was the matter of Dark.

Marvin had seen the look in Chase’s eyes whenever Damien was on the news. Chase was especially anxious whenever Marvin got near any of Dark’s kids. Even if those kids were King and Host. Dark was more willing to hold long conversations with Chase, and Chase had been caught by Marvin on more than one occasion texting Dark.

There was something growing between Dark and Chase and everyone was too busy walking on eggshells to confront either party about it.

Well Marvin was sick of watching his friend group tear itself apart. He needed to talk to Chase, before the guy did something stupid.

Marvin walked into the comms room. Chase was in there with Tommy and King.

“This job always as borin’[1] as shit?” Tommy asked.

King chuckled, “Yeah but so long as you’re listening to the feed you can be on your phone or work on stuff. Logan and Bing once built a transforming roomba from the ground up during a couple comms sessions. It’s why Logan likes to be in here, he gets his little side projects done.”

While King and Tommy were talking, Chase immediately noticed that Marvin had opened the door and was just staring at him.

“Hey Chase, can we talk?” Marvin asked.

“Logic, takin’[2] a smoke back,” Chase scoffed into the microphone and stood up, “King, yeh[3] have seniority, call us if anythin’[4] happens.”

“Yes, finally!” King smiled in joy and threw his arms up as Tommy groaned in annoyance, flopping back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “I got it!”

Without a word, Chase stepped out and quietly motioned for Marvin to follow him and took him out to the little smoking area. There Chase lit up a cigarette and took a deep lungful of nicotine laced smoke, before even acknowledging Marvin’s presence, “What do yeh[3] want?”

“I wanna talk,” Marvin reminded. “Why do yeh[3] think I followed yeh[3] out here yeh[3] bollocks[5]?”

Chase took a seat, “Fine, what yeh wanna go on about?”[6]

“Look, I know we don’t usually talk, but we need ta[7] talk about somethin’[8],” Marvin told him.

The marksman gave an amused chuckle, “Nah, we don’t have anythin’ ta talk about. Just go back ta yer books Marv.”[9]

“Yeh[3] hate me, so we got shite[10] ta[7] talk about,” Marvin told him.

“You murdered Stacy an’[11] the kids, ‘a[12] course I fookin’[13] hate yeh[3]!” Chase ripped the cigarette out of his mouth and stomped towards him.

Marvin flinched and Chase pulled away, “An’ sure yeh didn’t this time, but yeh did the other times, yeh did before they came back. Yeh set an entire city on fire, killed hundreds ‘a people. What am I supposed ta say ta yeh?”[14]

“I know,” Marvin called back, terror in his voice. “I know an’ don’t know what the fook was wrong with me ta brin’ me ta that point. That is hundreds ‘a thousands ‘a people who did nothin’ ta deserve the horror ‘a fookin’ burnin’ ta death!”[15]

“I don’t remember what was wrong with yeh[3],” Chase shot back, still angry. “I got stuck with that fooker’s[16] feelings, not his memories.”

The two of them fell quiet, the air nasty and injured between them.

Marvin felt like poison was bubbling in this throat. “The fook[17] happened ta[7] us?”

“Yer gonna have ta be specific,”[18] Chase asked curtly.

“I wanted ta[7] learn magic an’[11] hunt ghosts,” Marvin raked his hands down his face. “I didn’t want ta[7] save the world an’[11] deal with the fact I fooked[19] the future so bad it had ta[7] be fixed.”

“Yeah,” Chase frowned, before his phone went off. Chase pulled it out to see a text had shown up. It was Mori, in the water, near some tunnels with a fish in his mouth, the photo taken from the shoreline which meant Memento or Tempus had probably taken the picture.

The picture got a tiny breathy laugh from Chase, and a small smile. His kids seemed to be having fun, they didn’t seem to be getting into some big trouble. Yet, at least.

“They usually text yeh[3]?” Marvin asked, trying to make his tone sound less hostile.

“Yeah,” Chase’s expression turned bittersweet, he started texting Dark with an update. “Helps ta have a second pair ‘a eyes on ‘em. They tend ta slip out ‘a the Manor or the warehouses when Dark’s not watchin’. An’ that’s on a day when Wil doesn’t just sweep ‘em away an’ cause trouble with ‘em.”[20]

“Why are yeh in charge ‘a watchin’ ‘em?”[21] Marvin asked, completely confused. “Can’t those two just rise an’[11] repeat what they did with the other six? I mean if yeh[3] can handle raising six fookin’[13] demons in secret, three seem like no big deal.”

Chase paused, his fingers still. They were going to figure it out eventually. King already knew, he’d confided that in Chase already. “Cause[22] they’re mine, Marv.”

Marvin spent the next minute trying to figure out if Chase was joking, and then another minute trying to figure out how that was possible since they were demons and Chase was still human.

But a nagging feeling tickled the back of his head: was he still human?

Logan and the other Sides had been demons since the first moment he had met them and no one had been the wiser. Not even the Sides, and Marvin should have known. He should have taken one look at Virgil and more importantly Remus and known. Chase could be a demon, he could not know, and fly under every kind of test and radar known to magic itself. Hell, Patton and Roman still came up as humans for those tests.

“Do— Does uh,” Marvin floundered for an adequate response, because what the hell was he supposed to say to that! “Does Dark know?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who told me,” Chase was moving his cigarette back up to his lips. “Don’t know if he told the rest ‘a[12] his kids but they all know too. King said as much.”

“So what now?” Marvin asked.

Chase let out an ugly, contemptuous snort, “What about now?”

“Dark’s got yer[23] kids, is there another custody battle comin’[24] up?” Marvin winced at the memory of Chase’s last custody battle, one he had lost handedly.

“They’re Dark’s kids, he’s the most powerful bein’[25] in all Egoton, there’s nothin’[26] ta[7] fight against, Marv,” Chase dismissed, rolling his cigarette around in his mouth.

“Chase, no yeh can’t just roll o’er an’ just—”[27] Marvin spat.

“Calm yer[23] fookin’[13] tits, Marv,” Chase scoffed. “Dark an’[11] I have somethin’[8] set up. I see ‘em[28] more than I see my human kids.”

Marvin shoved his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do with them. “Okay, that’s good at least. So did yeh an’ Dark talk about stuff then. I know that the Clubs version ‘a yeh was with him in the future.”[29]

“I don’t have a future with Dark anymore,” Chase snarled. “He’s with Wil.”

“Wil cheats on him with practically the entire town,” Marvin reminded.

“I know!” Chase slammed his fist on the bench before raking his fingers down his face. “Yeh[3] think I haven’t noticed that bubblegum bastard perched on his arm, being the fookin’[13] shittiest arsehole[30] in the whole fookin’[13] world?”

Marvin opened his mouth but Chase turned and started on a tirade, “Dark is loyal ta[7] him. He fookin’[13] raised those kids almost by himself. An’[11] what does he get in return? The fooker[31] rips his heart out an’[11] leaves. It pisses me off.”

“I thought they said Wil died?” Marvin asked and all the momentum bled out of Chase’s system.

“Yeah he did,” Chase corrected himself. “Fook![17] I did it again.”

“Did what again?” Marvin asked.

“I say weird thin’s[32], I do weird thin’s[32],” Chase dismissed. “Yesterday I made like three different coffees, one fer me, one fer Eef, an’ another fer Dark. Crank wasn’t e’en in that day, an’ why the hell should I be makin’ a fookin’ coffee fer Dark? I was in the base.”[33]

“Wasn’t future yeh datin’ him or fookin’ him or somethin’?” Marvin asked.

“I think he was gonna[34] propose,” Chase admitted.

Marvin just stared at Chase, “What? How do yeh[3] know?”

“I caught myself lookin’[35] at rings,” Chase admitted. “Tryin’ ta find somethin’ that looks nice with red an’ blue. Not that it’s ‘a any use now.”[36]

“How much do yeh[3] remember or feel?” Marvin asked, coming closer and taking a seat next to Chase.

“I don’t have memories, just his feelin’s[37],” Chase frowned in thought. “Frustration, anger, love. Future me was so smitten with Dark that I know he was killin’ fer him. The weight ‘a my guns feel off now. Whene’er I look at Mori an’ Memento I feel so upset ‘cause they’re with Wil an’ they’re so big an’ it eats at me. Wilford fookin’ stole my kids an’ changed ‘em, an’ I’m supposed ta stand by an’ watch his aura keep changin’ ‘em.”[38]

“Have yeh tried talkin’ ta Dark about this?”[39] Marvin questioned.

“An’[11] tell him what?” Chase demanded. “That I fookin’[13] hate his guts an’[11] I wanna[40] take him out on a date ta[7] this nice curry place I saw on my last patrol at the same time. That I think his boyfriend is awful fer[41] him an’[11] I wanna[40] put a hollow point right between his fookin’[13] eyes?”

Marvin was trying to find some way to comfort or calm Chase down as he kept rambling. “Yah know maybe I should march my arse o’er ta his office an’ tell him that I hate wakin’ up in the morning. That when I wake up, I can’t stand it when my bed is fookin’ empty. That someone is supposed ta be in my bed with me an’ I just lay there fer hours ‘cause I can’t leave until he knows I’m there.”[42]

“Yeah, Marv, Dark would love that,” Chase laughed sadly. “Big, powerful mob boss would love some sad alcoholic who can barely hold himself together long enough ta[7] get out ‘a[12] bed in the mornin’[43]. That’ll really get his attention.”

“Well he must’a liked somethin’ ‘cause he was datin’ yeh,��[44] Marvin tried to offer.

“Wil was dead,” Chase reminded. “He’s alive an’ kickin’ now. Dark’s not gonna e’en look my way if Wil’s alive.”[45]

Marvin and Chase went quiet again. Unsure how to help either of them.

Fortunately for Marvin, he didn’t have to. King called them both back in. City hall wanted Average, Marvin, and Jackie to come in for a meeting.

Marvin saw the tense look in Chase’s eyes but he agreed and the two of them set off to meet Jackie at City Hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. boring

2. taking

3. you

4. anything

5. balls

6. Fine, what do you want to talk about?

7. to

8. something

9. Nah, we don’t have anything to talk about. Just go back to your books Marv.

10. shit

11. and

12. of

13. fucking

14. And sure you didn’t this time, but you did the other times, you did before they came back. You set an entire city on fire, killed hundreds of people. What am I supposed to say to you?

15. I know and don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me to bring me to that point. That is hundreds of thousands of people who did nothing to deserve the horror of fucking burning to death!

16. fucker’s

17. fuck

18. You’re going to have to be specific

19. fucked

20. Helps to have a second pair of eyes on them. They tend to slip out of the Manor or the warehouses when Dark’s not watching. And that’s on a day when Wil doesn’t just sweep them away and cause trouble with them.

21. Why are you in charge of watching them?

22. Because

23. your

24. coming

25. being

26. nothing

27. Chase, no you can’t just roll over and just—

28. them

29. Okay, that’s good at least. So did you and Dark talk about stuff then. I know that the Clubs version of you was with him in the future.

30. asshole

31. fucker

32. things

33. Yesterday I made like three different coffees, one for me, one for Eef, and another for Dark. Crank wasn’t even in that day, and why the hell should I be making a fucking coffee for Dark? I was in the base.

34. going to

35. looking

36. Trying to find something that looks nice with red and blue. Not that it’s of any use now.

37. feelings

38. Frustration, anger, love. Future me was so smitten with Dark that I know he was killing for him. The weight of my guns feel off now. Whenever I look at Mori and Memento I feel so upset because they’re with Wil and they’re so big and it eats at me. Wilford fucking stole my kids and changed them, and I’m supposed to stand by and watch his aura keep changing them.

39. Have you tried talking to Dark about this?

40. want to

41. for

42. You know maybe I should march my ass over to his office and tell him that I hate waking up in the morning. That when I wake up, I can’t stand it when my bed is fucking empty. That someone is supposed to be in my bed with me and I just lay there for hours because I can’t leave until he knows I’m there.

43. morning

44. Well he must have liked something because he was dating you

45. He’s alive and kicking now. Dark’s not going to even look my way if Wil’s alive.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #birthday post #footnotes #Marvin the Magnificent #Chase Brody #angst #Chase is dealing with his feelings #so is Marvin #unrequited feelings

[rwby-nwbe]

Just Finished RWBY Volume 4...

...and I actually liked it?

[Spoilers Ahead, Y'all Know The Drill]

I mean, from what I've heard the Volume gets a lot of flack but honestly? I don't think it deserves it.

Yes, this is the first volume without Monty, and yes, the fights lost a bit of their momentum compared to earlier volumes, but aside from that... it's actually pretty good?

Alright, let me give you the play by play character style.

Ruby Rose

There goes my baby... off to destroy evil.

Ruby hasn't changed much, at least to a noticeable degree, compared to the rest of the cast. Actually, no, that isn't true, she just hasn't changed in a way that would force her overall character to noticeably shift. And I think that's fine. She's still a child at times, and is still really optimistic. But the thing is, she has matured. She doesn't immediately jump head first into danger like she used to, and it's clear she's still trying to process what happened at the Fall of Beacon. And yet, she's pressing on, and I'm glad that she and the rest of Team RNJR have each other's backs.

My only concern is what will go down in Mistral...

Weiss Schnee

Welp, Jacques Schnee, congrats! You've joined Cinder and Adam on the hit list I'm writing up!

The a-hole aside, I really like how Weiss played out this volume. According to what I've heard, volume 4 took place about 6-8 months after Beacon, so I'm kinda sad that Weiss was stuck home for all that time. On the bright side, we get a look at her progress on her summons, which looks to be coming along quite nicely. Then we see the concert, and ooh does that make my blood boil. I'll get to Jacques in a bit, but personally, I'd have no qualms watching him burn, figuratively, or literally.

Fly, Weiss, fly from the coup. Give your bastard of a father the metaphorical middle finger he deserves! (P.S. Klein is best dad.)

Blake Belladonna

Oof. I hurteth.

So Blake tends to stay away out of fear that she'll hurt her friends (i.e. some alternate version of survivor's guilt). In order to make amends from her point of view, she heads home to Menagerie. And once again, we're reminded on why humanity sucks sometimes!

Humans: Here, have this desert island for your large spanning species that covers just as much ground as we do.

Faunus: But... but it's so small!

Humans: Is it? Oh well, we can't have everything!

Me: Y'all LITERALLY have several freaKING CONTINENTS-!

*Ahem* That said, Sun came along! And we met Blake's parents! But first, Sun; I'll admit, I had mixed feelings about him being there at first, but that was mostly because Blake was being angsty and despite Sun's best intentions, virtually nothing he did help. Although, towards the end of the Volume, he managed to help Blake realize why her way of thinking was wrong, so props to him for that. Uh, Sun, could you maybe knock like a normal person? Wait, Blake, DON'T SLAP HIM FOR IT!!!

Ah, Kali, you're just as chaotic as Sun, oh dear... Ghira, never change, man. Never change.

Yang Xiao Long

Oof. I hurteth again. (ADAM!! LET ME DESTROY YOU, DANGIT!!!)

So Yang has been... adjusting to life after Beacon and without an arm. Oh, and Adam gave her PTSD! Isn't that just swell?

[When the find your corpse it'll have Wilt running through your spine and your skull severed with bullet shots from Blush I swear-]

Luckily, Yang gets a prosthetic from Atlas. I was afraid she'd reject it, but it's actually kinda nice to see that she takes to it rather well. And after seeing Oobleck (YAY!) and Port again, it's cool that she's just trying to find her footing. Though, Tai, you might wanna consider NOT flying to close to the Sun Dragon, capiche?

And all this culminates in Yang finally getting back out in the end of the Volume, hoping to find some answers. Hopefully she takes Tai's words to heart.

Jaune Arc

IT'S BIG BOI SWORD HOURS!!

But seriously, it was... kinda off-putting to see Jaune act so... morose. Granted, we all know why (PYRRHA!!!), but still. I'm glad his team is looking out for him and that he's slowly starting to recover like everyone else. His conversation with Ruby in Kuroyuri was also really touching. Come to think of it, didn't Blake have a similar conversation with Sun? The PARALLELS!

Also, that upgrade, tho. CUT THAT NUCKELAVEE INTO DUST, MY DUDE!!!

Nora Valkyrie+Lie Ren

You can't talk about one without bringing up the other.

Guys, this was as much a Renora volume as it was a RWBY-Post Beacon volume. The Fall triggers some odd behavior in Ren, but we figure out why pretty quickly once we reach the Kuroyuri episode.

First, young Ren and Nora... adorable!

Second, I was NOT ready for when Nora had to talk Ren out of charging blindly at the Nuckelavee. The slap. The way Ren sees young Nora and then sees current Nora. Nothing could prepare me. Nothing.

They are so SOFT together, it's just... <3

New Characters (and Old ones, too)

Lightning round, baby!

Qrow Branwen. So Qrow serves as the inside man. He knows what's been going on, and he fills the rest of us in. We also know why he tends to keep his distance, because his semblance brings bad luck to allies and enemies alike. The poor birb. Glad he managed to survive Tyrian!

Jacques Schnee. Egotistical manipulative piece of garbage whom I will not feel sorry for once he's put in his place. 'Nuff said.

Whitley Schnee. Mixed feelings. Mixed feelings everywhere. 'Cause on one hand, I've seen plenty of the fandom's takes on his character putting him in a positive light, but on the other he starts getting kind of unbearable after Weiss loses her title as heiress. Then I have to remind myself that Whitley is the "Fawn" reaction to trauma. Weiss is "Fight," Winter is "Flight," their mother is "Freeze," and Whitley is "Fawn." Stuff like that helps me contextualize that when Whitley says things about their dad like "It's foolish to not do what father asks," or "It's barbaric. It's beneath me. Beneath father," Whitley's not just saying that 'cause he's a bit of a brat. That's his coping mechanism to the abuse Jacques put him and the rest of his family through, and it's probably been a long time that he's been telling himself stuff like this so he can keep in his father's good graces and not risk getting a slap to the face like Weiss, while also trying to deal with the fact that Weiss and Winter get a freedom that he never had a chance to get. And you have to remember that Winter and Weiss were abused to, and that trying to blame Whitley's current condition on the two of them doesn't make things any better. They're not obligated to care about Whitley just as much as Whitley isn't obligated to care about them. It would be nice if either one of them could get through to him, but they were all trying to combat Jacques in one way or another. Whitley was just the odd one out. And if you really think about it, the biggest brain play you can take from all this is to blame it solely on Jacques. I swear, when I get to Volume 4 in my NWBE AU, one of my top priorities will be getting Whitley the ever loving hell out of that accursed mansion alongside Weiss, mark my words.

Klein Sieben. Ladies and gentleman, the only valid man under the Schnee roof! And a Seven Dwarves reference no less. Thanks, I love him! Glad he helped Weiss escape his father's clutches.

James Ironwood. Oh boy, boss man is starting to lose his grip on things. Granted, he's trying to do the right thing, but it's clear his paranoia is getting to him. You know crap is getting bad if the most valid person in all of Atlas simultaneously needs to be told to get a grip from Jacques of all people (especially if he's making a point). Hope this doesn't trigger a downward spiral...

Ghira and Kali Belladonna. Ghira is done and Kali just wants to have fun. I love their dynamic and interactions with Blake and Sun! It was a nice wind down from everything else going on, though I don't think that'll last for long.

White Fang. So we got three more WF members: Fennec, Corsac, and Ilia. The Albain brothers are sleezeballs already, since they're working with Adam and all. Ilia's working with them too, but I'll have to withhold my judgement since she appears to have an as yet undisclosed connection to Blake, but I don't want to get my hopes up since she already stabbed Sun, so... Low expectations, but still expectations.

Salem's Group. Yup, Salem's a villain alright. I'll be keeping my eye on her, she just reeks of trouble. Cinder apparently lost her voice... eh, probably for the best. Emerald, Mercury, get the ever-loving FRICK outta there, you're clearly out of your element! Hazel, you're... fascinating. Neutral Evil, perhaps? Watts, you're on my radar, especially with the last episode of the Volume. And Tyrian... well, he's clearly beyond the point of no return, entirely devoted to Salem, and his psycho-sadistic tendencies are enough to freak Cinder of all people out. Needless to say, I hope something or someone takes care of him before the damage becomes irreversible.

And for now, I'll wrap this up with Oscar Pine. I'll admit, it was interesting how they set up Oscar's character as a slow burn this Volume. We learn he lives a quiet life with his aunt in a barn, and at first we're wondering "Who the heck is this kid?" But then Ozpin shows up and suddenly everything is like "Oh... wait, WHAT!?" So yeah, Ozpin just brought another child into thia conflict. At least they're both not happy about it, and hey, they met Qrow! Hopefully that keeps things from getting too crazy down the line. We still need answers, after all.

Well, those are my thoughts. Sorry they took so long. Hopefully Volume 5 won't be so hard to complete. Well... cheers!

-Mathewton, the RWBY Newbie (15 May 2020)

#rwby #rwby volume 4 #rwby volume four #rwby vol 4 #team rwby #team jnr #team rnjr #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #mercury black #tyrian callows #hazel rainart #arthur watts #jacques schnee #whitley schnee #klein sieben #james ironwood #oscar pine #rwby ozpin #rwby salem #qrow branwen #i just realized i forgot about Raven #yeah... she ain't a good mom #and i question her motives #if what tai said was anything to go off of... we might be in trouble #taiyang xiao long #liveblog #rwby liveblog #kinda #rwby-nwbe

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Fairy Contentious  || Morgan and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Downtown PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: There’s nothing awkward about finding a dead body between sometimes friends

Try as she might, Morgan still missed her humanity from time to time. Zombie personhood was alright, more than alright on some days, but in the heat of July, she missed the sweat on her back, the tanning and freckling of her skin, and the sharp, palpable comfort of a dive into cold water. She missed dollar soft serve from Whataburger. She missed spiked slushies. She missed having more of the world to share in. Lately it seemed like death had taken more than just her heartbeat, but was eating away at the world she had left too. There was Bea, and the human her sisters had sacrificed to bring her back. There were all those guards at the Ring and the woman whose body had turned shallow and empty beneath her hands. There was Erin and whatever she was getting up to her head in. There was the mummified pixie at the carnival. And then there were all the people she knew, people she loved better than most others, with blood on their hands. Was there any escaping it? Morgan turned down another block downtown, thinking more of her momentum than what shops she was nearby, aching for a burn, for something outside of herself to remember life being good and free and in her reach. What she saw instead was Kaden. Morgan stopped in her tracks and locked eyes with him. This is what she got for using binary words in her thoughts, wasn’t it? Morgan’s hand lifted in a hesitant wave.

This whole ordeal with Regan was more than taking its toll on Kaden. Maybe less the ordeal and more the lack of sleep that came with it. Closing his eyes brought nothing but worse case scenarios and for the most part, when he tried, he still couldn’t find sleep. Not to mention, the less he slept, the more hours in the day he had to try and find her. He’d searched plenty around her place and that had been a bust. So had the locator spell. So had all the hunters in town. So many leads and nothing concrete. Wandering the town was as good an attempt as anything else. Granted, he had no idea how long he’d been walking by now, if he had even seen her at all or if he was even paying attention anymore. He was so lost in thought he nearly ran into someone. “Sorry,” he mumbled, not meaning it. As he shuffled out of the way, he saw Morgan just behind them. Of course. “Hey,” he said flatly. Even if he’d wanted to convey any emotion, he couldn’t pull out any energy to display them. Funny he ran into a zombie while he felt something like the walking dead. At least what he assumed it felt like. Pretty numb, a lot of pain. He wanted to make a biting comment or five but he was just too tired to find any worth saying. “You good?” was all he could manage to say.

Morgan couldn’t remember the last time ‘you good’ hadn’t been a loaded question. She folded her arms over herself, fiddling with her sleeves as she tried to come up with an answer. She still didn’t feel completely right after what happened at the Ring. She would do it all again, but the weight of death was different than the weight of the retribution she doled out from time to time. “I’m fine,” she said at last. “You?” It was pretty obvious that he wasn’t doing so hot. There were shadows around his eyes thick as a ditch and a wasted, hangdog look, sunken and tired. “Looks like it’s been a heck of a time.” Normally she would have asked if she could do anything to help, but the words caught in her throat.

“I’m fine.” The words spilled from Kaden’s lips before he had a second to think about his answer. He was really fucking far from fine but he really didn’t want to explain it. Least of all to her. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the mess out of his way. Of course she caught onto him quick. “Haven’t slept much this week. That’s all.” Sure, that was true, but he was holding back the real reason. Part of him wanted to get this over with, but he also wanted to know if she was ever going to fucking acknowledge what had happened in the woods the other day. What had really happened, not the fairytale ending bullshit version she was harboring. Right. Doubtful. He should just fuck this and walk away, cut his losses. He needed to find Regan. This was just a waste of time. Then again… Putain. He sure as shit didn’t want Morgan’s help right now. But it was selfish and stupid not to get all hands on deck at the moment. “Regan’s missing. And also about the size of a pixie.”

It took all of Morgan’s willpower not to snort with laughter. This was a real pickle for Kaden and his distress was real. Also, there was a chance that Thumbel-Regan would come out of this traumatized in ways your average licensed therapist wouldn’t know how to cope with. But Stars, a tinkerbell sized medical examiner? Did she have a tiny lab coat? Or a tiny turtleneck? Morgan couldn’t help but snigger in the back of her throat. Mad as she was with Kaden, it wasn’t enough to kill the image in her head. “That uh, does sound like a wee problem, yeah,” she said, working her face into a more serious expression. “Do you know, uh, if she can fly? You guys didn’t happen to work out a hand clapping signal by any chance?” She cleared her throat. The universe was offering her a gift and she definitely didn’t want to turn it away. “Where have you looked so far? Maybe we could try by the butcher? Or the farmer’s market? Maybe she’s following her death spidey senses.”

Kaden rolled his eyes the second he caught that all too familiar look. The one that meant biting back laughter. He saw it on Blanche’s face enough the other day to recognize it. Granted, Morgan was doing a better job at reeling it in than pipsqueak had. It was annoying as shit all the same. “Fucking hilarious. Yup. It was fucking hilarious. Less so now when birds and squirrels are trying to eat her. But fine. Whatever, Morgan. Guess you only care when zombies are in danger.” He’d had no intention of actually mentioning the incident with whats-her-name the zombie but it sure fucking spilled out anyway. “Are you going to fucking help or are you going to keep making--” Before he could finish snipping at her, she brought up some decent suggestions. “I don’t know where I looked anymore. I just keep watching the ground. She can hover a bit so I guess I should look everywhere.” He rubbed his face. He was so stressed and so fucking tired, he wanted to just collapse into it, but he was determined to not give up. He could stop when Regan was safe. “I’ll look there. Fine.”

Morgan’s grin faded. “Seriously? I help save your ass in a diner, tell you what I am, help you with your denial girlfriend, and you think I only care about myself? Or my species? Is that a real thing or do you really just not get what it might’ve been like to see you cut into a woman just like me like she was a rabid animal? After, may I remind you, I pulled her off you, told you to run, and let me handle it.” It was like they hadn’t seen even close to the same thing. Like they hadn’t even been in the same place. Morgan shook her head. Kaden could be incredibly decent, often enough that she bristled uncomfortably at her initial distaste for him and the fear, the bitterness, she still held in some shrunken part of her. But this was not one of those times. This was the kind of moment that made her wonder why she didn’t just plant that bitterness and let it grow over everything else. Still, she straightened herself up as tall as her tiny body would allow and pointed in the direction. “You wouldn’t find a cheese fry if I jammed it up your nose with that much sleep deprivation. I’ll help clear that area with you.”

Kaden ground his teeth as he held back a comment about a good chunk of that sounding like self preservation. Whether that was true or not, he didn’t have the fucking energy. He was not going to waste what he had left on her. Until she kept going. “I cut into her like a rabid animal because that's what she was!” he said, reeling back to face her. “She was gone! There was nothing left! She was going to kill me! It nearly did! A few times! And you did not have it handled! If I ran, what the fuck was to stop her from killing whatever human walked by next? Or do you even care?!” So much for not wasting his breath. One thing he could say was the anger jolted him with energy. Mostly he just wanted to use it to punch something. Or storm off. But it didn’t seem like it was going to work because she was insisting on following him. “I told you I’m fine. But if you want to come I can’t stop you. Public fucking place.” That wasn’t quite true, he could stop her. Just not in any way that was remotely acceptable.

Morgan had turned to lead the way but no. That would just be way too easy and make too much sense. She clenched her fists at her sides. There were things that mattered more than this. Hypothetically, these things included Thumbel-Regan. But Kaden’s words cut into her fresh, reminding Morgan what had been so awful about that day beyond Ashley’s ruined body. “She was just starving. And I was trying to help both of you, dumbass. If you didn’t have your head so far up your arsenal, you might’ve figured that out.” She stormed ahead of him, fists clenched, and started for the butcher’s. This was a mistake; she should’ve just stayed home.

“She was just starving?! There’s no just starving from zombies. Starving gets humans killed.” Kaden continued as he followed after her. He really couldn’t figure out what about this was so hard for her to understand. Even if she did have noble goddamn intentions, she didn’t have it handled. That zombie was going to kill someone, even if it wasn’t him. “And you met her before, right? Seems like she didn’t want your fucking help.” He was considering telling her the same right now. But she wasn’t wrong about him being exhausted. Maybe not about the rest of it, but she had that much correct. He was ready to collapse. He almost wanted to ask if they were there yet.

“Of course that’s all you care about,” Morgan grumbled. She kept walking, fists clenched, trying not to think about how right Kaden was about the last part. Ashley had been lucid when she ran away from her and Rio. All those animals wouldn’t have lasted very long, but enough for her to do...something. She could have dug up a fresh body from the cemetery if she was desperate, or pounced on a deer. The smell from the woods was intoxicating sometimes, it would have been impossible to miss. So why had she been back at square one so soon. You shouldn’t have done that, that’s what she’d told Morgan. But Kaden couldn’t know that, right? Morgan pressed on ahead, crossing the next block, when she caught the smell. Death. Still soft, ripe death. Morgan came to a stop. They were still downtown, what was she smelling, some unlucky bird? “Wait.” she said. “Maybe…” Regan would be pulled to it too if she was nearby, right? “Do you smell that?” She looked around them, feeling a familiar sharp twist in her stomach. It couldn’t be too far.

“Oh, not dying? Other people not fucking dying? Right. What a fucking terrible thing to care about.” All of Kaden’s hopes for an apology were shot to hell. Not that he was holding out too much to begin with. Why the fuck she wanted to spend so much time defending a monster, he didn’t understand. Sure, she was a zombie, too, but not like that. And if she had tried to help earlier and failed… He had to wonder how many other people were in danger or if this had happened before. How many times had someone pitied a zombie only for them to slip back and take a human life? Was it only a matter of time until that was Morgan? Fuck. Not what he wanted on his mind right now. He stared ahead as he followed her. The scent hit him before he saw anything. That was death and decay alright. No mistaking it. “Of course I smell that. Hard to miss.” Especially with human senses, he thought. Still, there was no denying that carcasses and cadavers were siren songs to a banshee, in a way. “You can sense death, too, right? Not the same way but you know,” he asked as she guided them towards the source of the stench.  

“We’re people too,” Morgan grumbled. But of course Kaden wouldn’t see it that way. Maybe Deirdre had been right all those months ago. Maybe telling Kaden she died really had been stupid. She couldn’t help but smirk dryly at his question. “If you mean sense it the way I used to be able to sense fried chicken and waffles from two blocks away, then yeah, sure.” It wasn’t the same kind of comforting, soul-pulling call she understood the banshee death pull to be. A dead body called to Morgan’s insides like it wanted to devour everything she was and claim her for itself. Ravaged, held, and erased into a relief that came from no intelligence whatsoever. Morgan salivated as she turned down an alley and peeked around a dumpster, a common enough spot for finding felled birds and-- “No. Fuck...fuck, no, no…” She turned around and started to walk right back out the alley, clutching her stomach, but she couldn’t get the sight out of her head. The scales on the girl’s arms were scraped raw and crusted with blood from the mangled mess where her hands were supposed to be. And her face...her face was a ruin of burns and iron. Morgan had only been able to tell from her hair that it hadn’t been Mina. Morgan clamped a hand over her mouth, grimacing as her insides reached back for the body. She sank to the ground and dumped the contents of her bag, trembling. She had a snack in there somewhere to keep from eating roadkill in public, but she couldn’t make her fingers work the tupperware lid. She couldn’t stop seeing that girl. She had one eye, overexposed from her melted lids and staring up pitifully, dead and empty towards the street, towards the river that might’ve been her home. Morgan’s eyes filled with tears, too thick to see through, and let everything in her hands fall.

Kaden’s stomach churned at the thought of comparing decomposing flesh to food. And the combination of chicken and waffles. There was no reason any of those things should go together. That’s not what churned his stomach when they turned the corner. There was no mistaking that was a dead body sprawled out in front of them. It was strange to find one downtown and without Regan nearby, at that. Unless, she was. He paused to listen for any small screams or calls out to him. But he heard nothing but Morgan’s muttering as she turned away. Kaden stayed in place, finally allowing what was in front of him to really sink in. That wasn’t a human body, it was something else. Inhuman, the scales alone gave it away. His mouth pulled into a thin line as he assessed the situation. He looked for webbed fingers but couldn’t find her hands. The slits on the side of her neck were still easy enough to see. “A nix,” he said. A very mangled, very tormented nix at that. He crouched down to get a better look. Marks where iron instruments had surely burned into her, lacerations covering her body, and it looked like whoever did this had tried to split her legs again. It was hard to say how long the body had been there, not too long if he had to guess. Still, it was cold, it’s not like they’d missed the moment by mere minutes or anything. His cold assessment of the facts were easier to process, they were there, unchanging. What it all meant, how he felt about it, that was harder. Something he didn’t want to touch. The sound of something hitting the pavement made his head jerk back to see Morgan again. She’d dropped.. tupperware? Odd. “You alight?” he asked as he stood and turned to face her.

Morgan was gritting her teeth, trying to hold her body still. Snacking usually helped, gave her appetite something to fixate on, but she wasn’t usually this upset when she passed death during her every-day life. She tried breathing, maybe that would be a good distraction. “Need...food,” she said. “She’s...I can’t...after what she’s been through...I can’t…” Couldn’t destroy her any further. Couldn’t treat her like stuff. There was nothing natural about what was left of her body, nothing balanced about a death like that. Tortured, butchered for parts, left with the garbage to be...what? Ignored? Mistaken for someone’s film class final? Morgan sat back, banging her head against the side of the building. That wasn’t doing much good. “Can you open it? It’s not human, I just need…” Some relief. To not feel herself wanting for the soft candy of her insides. Stars, it was probably sweeter than anything she’d had yet too… And if she hadn’t been brutalized, Morgan wouldn’t have been able to imagine them with half as much detail. She grimaced and dug her shaking hands into her knees. “Just do it, just open it!”

It took a few seconds for the pieces to click together as Kaden watched her. Shit. Dead body. Zombie. Even after arguing with her back and forth about zombie rights and how often she took sheer glee in reminding him of what she was, he sometimes still forgot. Had to wonder if it was on purpose. Likely was. “You can’t what?” His brow furrowed as she explained further. Shit. He had to go over there. Open the container for her. He took a deep, shaky breath as he steeled himself to follow through on her request. There wasn’t much out there that scared Kaden. Truly scared him. Being bit or turned by anything undead was one of them. But he had to trust his friend. Bolting and running sounded easier, even in a dead end alleyway. Still, he walked forward and reached out for the tupperware, hand shaking as he pulled it towards him. He fumbled for a second as he tried to rip the lid open. This was fine. They’d both be fine. This was probably unwarranted fear. He held the container out to her for her, trying his fucking best not to look at what was in there. Even if it wasn’t human, he didn't want to know.

Morgan took the tupperware and shoved her dead flesh salad into her mouth by the handful. The flesh slid down her throat easily, offering its subtle flavor between the bits of diced brain. Her stomach settled and with the animal rage in her stomach had settled down more into an agitated grumble, she could make more room for what she’d seen, for trying to figure out what to do. They couldn’t just leave her there with the garbage, right? Then again, they couldn’t exactly call this in to the police. Regan was the size of a pixie and the number of incorrect to dehumanizing conclusions she might manage to come to were enough to make Morgan feel sick all over again. She couldn’t take her home, at least not by herself. She barely had the restraint to walk away and keep herself from making a meal out of her body. Morgan tried to breathe, tried to make each bite last longer. Distraction, that was the thing. As long as she could distract her body, she could be okay. “Thank you,” she said at last. “You didn’t manage to...I don’t know...notice if she had any stuff with her, did you?”

Kaden let out the breath he hadn’t intended to hold as she ate the contents of the container. It was fine. She had control. They’d be fine. There was no need for this to turn into-- It was fine. Kaden rolled his shoulders back and shook off any of the nerves he had before, like he could will his pulse back to a normal, steady rhythm. If only it were that simple. The distraction she offered to everything going on was more than welcome. “Any stuff? Uh, no. Not sure. I didn’t check.” He walked back over to the body and it all hit him again. Different this time. The more he saw it, the harder it was to just focus on facts. His mind tried to piece things together, make connections, as much as he wished it wouldn’t. He bend down and tried to feel around her clothes where there might be pockets, something left behind. It made him feel less like a hunter or even a cop and more like a petty thief. His stomach sank like a pit as the reality of this hit him a little deeper. This was a dead nix. Yes. He knew that. And on another level, what was this? A dead fae. Alright. But what did that mean? It meant someone killed a fae. Didn’t just murder them, no. Tortured them. Her. Putain. He was jumping to conclusions, there was no way to say this was a hunter who did it, but it was hard not to wonder. And if it was a hunter, that likely meant that it was a warden. And if it was a warden and they were nearby. And if Regan was nearby. And if they found her before he d-- Kaden realized he was sitting on the ground next to the body no longer searching it, just trying to keep the world from collapsing in on him as his breath quickened, shallow and ineffective. Calm. He had to be calm. He had to think clearly if he wanted to help or be useful or fucking anything. Why couldn’t he do that?

Morgan waited. And waited. She couldn’t remember what the nix had been wearing, it had to be something right? Maybe she at least had a wallet stuffed in her back pocket, something to give her a name, that could help them treat her like a person again. Then again she wasn’t, not anymore. The person was gone, this was just her remains, her body, her story. That wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t nothing. It deserved some dignity, some small, stupid scrap of respect. Morgan chewed slowly. “Kaden?” She called. “Kaden--? What did you find?”

Morgan’s voice snapped Kaden out of his panic. A little. It was still a bit of a struggle to keep getting air into his lungs. But he needed it to reply. “Nothing,” he managed to push out between shallow breaths. “Nothing yet.” Okay. Alright. If there was a warden nearby he’d deal with it. Later. Right now he was examining the body. Like any of this mattered. Come to think of it, why was he doing this? Because she asked. Right. But why? How was this going to help them find Regan. This was just a dead fae, what did it matt-- A thought creeped into his head. One he had to push away. Desperately. He couldn’t even imagine that right now. This wasn’t Regan. It wasn’t even a banshee. The body in front of him, she didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Finding his hopefully still alive fae girlfriend, that’s what mattered. But he had a sinking feeling if he didn’t try, Morgan would. To likely disastrous results. Alright. Looting the fucking body it was. He checked around for a purse or some shit like that, nothing. Front pockets of what was left of her shorts, also nothing. Fuck. He’d have to turn over the body. No time like the present. He swallowed back any disgust and pushed it over. There wasn’t a whole lot of solid flesh or scales left, like it was picked clean after a good bit of flesh burned off. He expected to find more of the same, may even more decay on the other side of the corpse. Shockingly enough, there was something in her back pocket still there. A phone. With a wallet attached to the case, one of those small things that held cards. He figured there wasn’t going to be much more useful than that. There wasn’t much else to identify her by anyway. “Uh got this,” he said once he walked back to Morgan, holding out the phone to her.

Morgan took the phone and flipped through the cards attached. She didn’t know much about hacking electronic passwords, that was more of a Winston thing. But she had a student ID from the university. Not another one of her students, thank god, but she was practically the same as them. Morgan pulled it out and passed it to Kaden. “Meet Coraline Adams. Would-be class of ‘23 at UMWC. Liked the Little Mermaid, maybe ironically--” she passed over one of her credit cards, which had a much faded sticker of princess Ariel in the corner, “And had a really nice phone. That’s it, that’s all that’s left of her.” She worried the slice of eyeball she was still chewing on as she spoke. This was so pitiful, practically nothing. At least with Emma there had been a funeral, there had been things  to do, there was the sad copy of her stories consigned at the local book store. But Emma had been human. Coraline wasn’t. “Do you know who might’ve done this?” She asked quietly. “Someone who’s capable of treating some poor college kid like this? For being fae?”

Kaden crossed his arms as Morgan went through the fae’s things. This was a far cry from any normal post hunt sort of moment. Or any time he came across a dead body on a hunt. If it wasn’t human, it got left behind, at best it was there to help inform them who or what had been there. Had to say, he kind of preferred that right about now. But this wasn’t a hunt. At least, not like that. Kaden shook his head at her question. “I don’t know any wardens in town, no.” He really should. Given, well, everything. But something about having to be two faced to colleagues sounded hard. Or shitty. Something like that. “I mean, can’t say for sure that it was-- But if I had to guess.”

“Yeah, well, they do make it their business to do a double-take at anyone with an Irish accent and cut down whoever makes their killer instincts go off,” Morgan said bitterly. “No matter how young they are, no matter how wrong it is. They see someone spooky and suddenly they don’t get to be a person anymore. I kinda figured that much out too. We don’t even know if this girl has a family who’s missing her right now, but it’s just another day at the hunter office.” She held out her hand to have the cards back. Suddenly, she didn’t like the idea of Kaden getting to hang onto them. “We can’t just leave her body there. Well, I can’t, but I also can’t get too close without...you know. But she shouldn’t have to stay there.”

Kaden let out a huff and shook his head. “Well then. Good to know how you really feel.” Why was it every time they were around each other lately, he questioned why he considered her  a friend at all. He couldn’t even begin to figure out what he was feeling about any of this, but he could feel the anger over her comments. And the exhaustion settling back in. The rest, well, he didn’t know what that was. He considered not taking the cards back. Fuck her, if he was just some mindless killer, why give them to him? Whatever, he took them, put them into his pocket. Which in hindsight, not a great idea. Regan may not be around just yet but he’d have to dispose of them before the medical examiner was back in full swing. Which, speaking of, the body. “We can’t. We can report it. Send her to the morgue. Not that Rickers or Regan will find the cause of death but it’s an option.” A shitty option. “Otherwise, we can burn it.” It was the safest option, really. One she probably didn’t like. “No matter what, we can’t do anything now. In broad daylight. Unless we’re involving the law.” Which didn’t sound like a great plan. But it was all he could figure.

“Is there something else I should be feeling about this too?” Morgan asked. She finally brought her eyes up to meet his. She’d never had the best control of her expressions at the best of times when she was alive, you would’ve thought dying might make it worse. But the face she showed Kaden was slack and impassive. Maybe it was the emotional exhaustion, maybe she was getting too used to this, but Morgan managed to stuff everything down. She wanted to dare him to tell her something different. To come up with one reason to justify any of this. “At least stash her for me, so she doesn’t wind up in a landfill. I’ll figure the rest out myself. You probably shouldn’t be too involved anyways with...everything you’ve got going on.” His job with the police department for one thing. His girlfriend for another.

“No, fine. Just jump to whatever conclusions you want. Can’t stop you. Every hunter’s a mindless killer with no fucking reason for any action they take. Of course.” Kaden was so sick of this kind of conversation. How it never ever seemed to sink in for any bleeding hearts seemingly ever. It wasn’t that he thought what happened there was okay. He didn’t. Torture wasn’t hunting. Neither was collecting trophies. Hell, he was pretty fucking wary of wardens himself as of late. But that didn’t give her the right to paint it all with a broad fucking stroke. Right to his fucking face, no less. That wasn’t the point now. “I’ll come back for her. Later. I’ll cover her up for right now. That’s the best I can do.”

“Can we put our bullshit aside for just five seconds, Kaden? This is not about Ashley, this is about a girl almost Blanche’s age whose remains are currently by a dumpster. I would take care of this myself if my stupid zombie body wouldn’t treat what’s left of her like a freaking happy meal, but them’s the breaks.” Morgan felt herself somehow getting more tired and more angry at once. She stopped, clenching and unclenching her hands and sighed. “Forget it. You have a tiny girlfriend who is definitely not in this area, otherwise she would be trying to perform an autopsy with a stick. You have a nice job you shouldn’t be risking, and you have no idea why I’m actually upset so just...give me her stuff and I’ll handle this. I’m sorry you got dragged in, but you can go now.”

“And I wasn’t fucking talking about Ashely either. But fine.” Kaden took the cards and phone back out of his pocket and tossed them at Morgan to catch. Fuck her. She didn’t know him at all or anything going on his head. Clearly. Apparently not breaking down right then and there or calling her out for her own words meant he had zero capacity for emotions. Whatever. It was always the same. “Right. Call me if you need something killed. Cause I’m sure that’s all you think I do. If you see Regan let me know.” He turned and walked out of the alley and back towards the city center. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him to stay focused on the actual reason he was there in the first place, but with a new threat of a warden wandering around, he’d have to fucking try.

#wickedswriting #writing #chatzy #morbeckmoreproblems #morgan #Fairy Contentious

[safflowerseason]

How do you feel about them never showing the night Dan and Amy got together? Would you rather have seen it, or do you like that they left it up to the audience to fill in the details?

I guess…of course, sure, if Veep were The Dan and Amy Show and I was the queen of the universe and in charge of writing it, I would have liked to have seen their night together. But…I doubt that the scene was ever “on the table” in the writers’ room, if that makes sense. For one thing, the scene in the bar is already telegraphing loudly to the audience that Dan and Amy are about to hook up. They’re truly alone (for the first time in years) in a dark and empty-looking bar, late at night, wondering if they’re going to prison, Dan wants Amy to get another drink…the audience is not stupid. We don’t need to see it to know what is going to happen. 

For another…there’s just too much meaning in the idea of Dan and Amy finally giving into desire for one another (physical and emotional). And as we all know, Mandel didn’t want to frame Dan and Amy’s relationship with a lot of meaning, nor was he as interested in their relationship as he was in other elements of the show. 

Tom and Selina in S5-S7 provide a neat comparison. Their relationship highlights just how “personal” Mandel’s approach was to Veep relationships. We see the whole rise and fall of their upside-down romance. They have sex in S5, have another almost-kiss in S6, we see them make-out and then later sleep together again in S7…and all of those moments are preceded/accompanied by BIG conversations where they talk about their relationship and how complicated and twisted it is. Even though everyone in Mandel’s Veep is a monster, sex and emotions are still treated very significantly. And yeah, of course, Selina is the star of the show and her journey gets the most attention. But Mandel didn’t make space for Dan and Amy to have even one conversation like Tom and Selina had. I mean, practically Amy’s whole arc in S7 revolves around trying to have an actual conversation with Dan and Dan blowing her off because a) he doesn’t think he and Amy have any kind of relationship or b) he’s actively negging her because he can’t handle his desire for her. 

To be honest, I’m not sure I would have wanted to see a Mandelian Dan/Amy sex scene, or even the build-up to one…I just feel like he would have tried to highlight, yet again, S6 Dan’s insistence on making Amy feel bad about herself and he would have wanted to work in Amy’s eternal sexual humilation at the hands of all the men in her life. That would have been just too depressing.

But, Safflower, you ask, what about in 6.10 when Dan and Amy are all glowing and smiling at one another? Surely their encounter in 6.09 would have been framed more positively!

Well…I have a totally unfounded conspiracy theory that Mandel did not specifically direct Dan and Amy to look so fucking radiantly happy in 6.10. There’s a lot going on in that scene—I’m sure they were all leaning into the momentum of a potential reunion, which probably heightened Reid Scott and Anna Chlumsky’s natural spark—and maybe the editors were secretly rabid Dan/Amy shippers and Mandel just missed it in the editing room. It is definitely a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, but it’s such an unequivocal flash of “Dan and Amy looovveeee each other”—Dan, especially, acts so different toward Amy in this scene, for all its brevity, and t it really stands out within the season—that I just do not believe in my soul Mandel would have wanted to emphasize their connection in such a genuine way, considering how badly his version of Dan treats Amy. Regardless of whether or not the scene was supposed to have any specific Dan/Amy undertones, there’s a pretty undeniable reading to be made there about their relationship and what has changed since the last episode. 

But I am very cynical about how Mandel felt about Amy-the-character. Do I really think that Mandel actually wanted to imply that Dan likely gave Amy multiple orgasms? No, I do not. So I also don’t believe he would have done something very satisfying with Dan and Amy’s night together, even if the subtle and possibly subconscious acting choices of Reid Scott and Anna Chlumsky strongly suggest that it was indeed quite satisfying. Seeing his vision of the night might have made things worse. It sucks that Dan and Amy share so little screen time in S6…but also because it’s so sparing, I get to fill in the blanks in a way that works for me.

I mean, literally right before asking Amy if she wants another drink, Dan—with a stone-cold straight face, with an utterly dry casualness in his tone—makes the crack about forgetting that Amy has a vagina. But since he immediately follows it up by asking her if she wants another drink, he doesn’t come actually off as someone indifferent to Amy, he just comes off as one of those dime-a-dozen assholic insecure men who feels like he has to insult a woman before he communicates his desire for her. Dan wants to have sex with Amy, which is emphatically not the same as not giving a shit about her. (For sure, sex can be just sex…but history is another thing altogether.)

It’s like Mandel wanted to have his cake and eat it too: he wanted Dan to be completely indifferent to Amy (or see her just as his ‘buddy’) and he also wanted Dan to make a bunch of jokes about how sexually unattractive she was to him (and thus all men). Except…that’s not how an actual human person operates, even an emotionally stunted asshole like Dan. A man who views a woman as a truly platonic friend or is otherwise completely indifferent to her existence does not constantly make jokes about how much he doesn’t want to fuck her. 

I forget where I was going with this, distracted by the terrible writing for Dan.

Oh yeah, so I just don’t really think Mandel approached their relationship with a lot of narrative coherency and I think that would have affected any kind of intimate scene between them as well…even though, broadly, he was probably more likely to give us a scene like that than Iannucci was. 

If Iannucci wanted to show us the actual first time that Dan and Amy kissed or hooked up on the show, it would have been some spur-of-the-moment triumphant and possibly drunken kiss over the credits, very quick. And then like two episodes later someone would have caught them in the West Wing and/or someone would have shown up at Amy’s apartment at 11pm at night and Dan would have been there too, and that would be that. But of course, Iannucci treated Dan and Amy as a couple already—Mandel didn’t. An “encounter” between Dan and Amy during the Iannucci years wouldn’t really tell the audience anything new about Dan and Amy, because they’re basically already together (if not actually already hooking up, in S4). The show would be so wonderfully matter-of-fact about it. *sigh* (Now, a pregnancy in the Iannucci years would have told us *much* more about Dan and Amy…)

Whew, another essay! But I love these questions so much ☺️

#dan x amy #veep season six

[rabidfirefoxfan]

When you responded, I started thinking back to when I first got into Loki. I am ashamed to say, that yes it was from gagnarok. but because I love the truth, I went out seeking it (so my love for gagnarok only lasted a few months) anyways, I do remember loving how great it was after watching it and spreading the word about it; ready to take down any YouTuber with a negative response towards the movie, even though I REALLY didn't want to see it twice. It just stayed in my brain for some reason. I still don't fully understand why, but I think you def hit the nail on the coffin 💜

You enjoyed something, you wanted to Keep enjoying that thing. There is nothing inherently wrong with this. You Subjective reaction to the Movie can be “I though it was a good film” and the Objective reality “This films has MAJOR Problems with it” are two different things.

For example, Michael Bay’s Transformers is objectively a Bad Film: Bad characterization, bad plot, dumb action, over-sexualization, really terrible main character. However, many people Subjective reaction to the Movie is “It was a pretty good movie.” The action scenes were entertaining enough to keep you interested and the character work well enough for ONE watch through.  Ragnorak is Similar, your first subjective reaction to the movie was to say it was good.

Your reaction to the movie is also, in some ways, artificial. After all, with big releases like Marvel Movies are is a lot of Fanfare trying to hype you up to go to the Movie. Trailers like to “Your going to have a great time watching this film. It has all the stuff you want.” And then there is the Disney Press Tour trying to encourage media outlets to say the same thing. Finally, when you are all excited to watch the movie, you watch the movie and before you can really process what you watch, you talk with your friends. Now, you had a fairly happy experience, so when you asked your friends they will say “Yeah that was a good Movie,” re-enforcing the Idea that it actualy was a good movie.

Without realizing it, there are 3 forces trying to convince you that watch you actually watched was Good, and not Crap in any meaningful way. Reason 1: You don’t want to have wasted you time and money, so what you spent you time and money on MUST be Good. Reason 2: Your Friends want to feed off you energy and have the same Reason1 working on them. These direct friends will again tell you that the movie is Good. Reason 3: Disney has a strong incentive to want you to think the movie is good, so they promote articles and Social Media pieces that say that the Movie is Good so they continue to Make MONEY off of it for as long as it’s in the Box Office. (Let’s not forget, Ragnorak made just as much as The Justice league did)

Because of all of these Factors, when you are going to talk about the movie a week after you watch, you are STRONGLY encouraged to say how awesome it was. And the People who said it sucked, well, they must just be no-good haters who want to ruin your happiness, RIGHT? There is no way the thing that you watched ONCE can be bad, it must be something else. There is no way I was wrong, that what I liked is bad, that my reasoning can be flawed. It must be those Haters.

And this Line of thinking Works .... for a little bit. The thing is, movie last forever (at least with the internet) and the internet LOVES to over-analysis everything. Piece by Piece, more and more voices start to voice some little things they didn’t like, and than those little things start to pile up, and more and more little things pile up, and OMG This Movie is horrible how did I ever like it in the first place.

You want to see this in Action. Watch Mauler’s A Critique of Star Wars: The Force Awakens - Introduction. Mauler has a whole playlist talking about the Sequel Star Wars movies, and it’s like 24 hours long when you include all 3 movies and like 5 parts of it (Each on like 2 hours long). You don’t have to watch the whole thing, just Watch the first 5 minutes of this specific video. You’ll see this EXACT thing happening to Everyone when it came to The Force Awakens.

One other Problem with the Thor IP that should be address though. IMO, the biggest problem with Thor, is honestly Thor. I don’t think Chris Hemsworth every capture that spirit of Thor, as Least in comparison to the other 3 major character for Avengers (2012). So, arguably the 4 most important characters of the Avengers was Iron Man, Thor, Captain America and Loki. Iron Man was the character to get the MCU kicked off, but Thor and Captain America Movies were there to build up momentum and build up to the Avengers. Chris Evans did a great job capturing Cap down-to-earth persona and how he really does want to be a good leader, a good man. RDJ did a FANTASTIC Job capture both the Light and Dark elements of Tony Stark. I don’t think I need explain with Hiddleston did a good Job capturing the spirit of Loki. So, that Leaves Thor.

In the Comics, the basic Idea of Thor is that Thor is an Arrogant Superman. Like Superman, Thor is really strong, nearly invincible, and just Loves Humans and the Earth while not actually begin Human (his mom is the Earth Though). Unlike Superman Though, Thor often thinks too Highly of Himself and can act like a Total Dick at times. In most versions of the Humbling of Thor, Thor often does a really Dick move that causes his banishment. However, even with his arrogant Nature, Thor still loves cute things and still wants to protect stuff.

Hemsworth, although doing a Great Job bringing the Body of Thor (look at those muscles), IMO never did an excellent job bring the warmth of Thor. Or, at least wasn’t as Good at doing Thor as Hiddleston was at doing Loki. Hiddleston, through just trying to do a Good job on his character, ultimately brought all the focus away from Thor and onto Loki. This ended up with the reaction, Thor was bad, but Loki was Good. Because the Main focus, Thor, wasn’t done well, both Thor and TDW suffered. Add to that that Marvel really never knew what to do with the Thor IP and you have a general atmosphere of “The Thor Movies sucked, but I like the Loki scenes,” a sentiment that I honestly agree with.

Hiddleston NAILS every scenes he’s in with Both Movies, but everyone else ... eh? Both Odin and Jane’s actors are phone it in, it’s not their worst performances, but it’s hardly their best. Humbling of Thor is Interesting, but Loki’s side of the story is Far more interesting. I mean, Thor gets banished and immediately gets a girlfriend and a nice life. If Loki didn’t go Mad and attack the Town, it’s likely Thor would have gotten married to Jane, been an amazing Trophy Husband and had 3 kids while Loki would have been miserable on the Throne. That’s not an interesting story for Thor.

TDW suffered from production problems. A director for the movie pulled out last minute and the movie was crap, then they noticed that Loki was popular and they did some Last minute re-shoots with Joss Whedon and Tom Hiddleston. Now it’s a crap movie with sprinkles of Great scenes. Honestly, cut out a lot of the Earth stuff, bring the Focus onto to Loki and I swear there is a great movie in the TDW, I just know it.

So, with the First two Thor movies having ?Eh? Thor content, fans wished for a new better thing and they wanted Ragnorak to be that new better movie. These Fans also ignored anything that said otherwise.

However, because of Taika’s habit of attacking Fans, it’s likely that it’s going to be hard for him to keep his fanbase. Bad movies can work for a time, but eventually People will move on to better thing. Transformers was able to make 3-4 somewhat successful movies but the 5 bombed. The same thing will happen to Taika if he’s not careful. If his next movie doesn’t scratch the same itch that the First movie does, people will re-examine Ragnorak with a critical lens and then it will be popular to bash on his movie.

There is a reason why Tom Hiddleston’s Loki Fans have endured for so Long. It’s because Loki in Thor and TDW really resonated with us, far more than most other Marvel Properties. Because of it, Loki’s personality, his strength and his stories are far more relatable and resonate and any other Marvel Characters. It on Marvel to make us products we are willing to support, not attack us when we don’t want to buy their crap.

For me, I have don’t like how Marvel (and Disney in general) is treating their characters and their fans. Until their general atmosphere improves (or they die in hell) I am going to read Through Loki Comic until I find those few Great one (I have fund like 5-10 out of 60 that are worth anything), continue to read fanfics from authors who give a crap and continue to promote and make Fan-based stuff that encourages Loki stuff I do like.

Um.... Thanks for reading my long answer. Thanks for sending asks.

PS: Do you have any good Loki work to recommend?

[ckret2]

I'm probably a little bit late for the hype, but for your radiosnake fic, was sir pentious being behind on current technology because he was just really heartbroken or bc he was somehow cursed? Sorry, sometimes i'm bad at understanding, so i wasn't sure if the karma bit meant that there really was some kind of supernatural intervention or not

It is never, ever too late to talk to me about one of my fics! People talk to me about stuff I was writing over a decade ago and I love it, you're good.

It's neither one, actually. He isn't too heartbroken to keep up, and he isn't cursed. He just lost so many resources that he can't keep up with new technological developments any more.

Long explanation below the cut!!

... god I think tumblr just, fucking deleted the cut. If there isn't a cut below this line I APOLOGIZE I tried to edit it back in, tumblr sucks.

Like, say in '64 someone comes into hell with knowledge of how to make a new weapon that's gonna change the game. Sir P's got a web of like a hundred informants who know they're gonna be rewarded when he has power, so he finds out about the weapon in three days and can snatch up the soul that knows how to make it in under a week. He's got a dozen mines from which he can extract the raw materials needed to make the weapon, so that takes a week; dozens of engineers working under him to figure out how to replicate the weapon based on the newly dead dude's half-remembered math, so that takes a week; and Sir Pent himself, the mastermind of this operation, has no more pressing needs to attend to--his airships are defending his turf without any need to call him in for help, he doesn't have to worry about collecting supplies because they have control of all the materials they need, nothing's disrupting their supply train in the sky, etc--so he can turn his whole attention to improving on this weapon, and he's done so in a week. So only a month has passed between this weapon entering hell and Sir Pent becoming not only the only person that has it, but the only person with the next generation version of it.

Compare: a new weapon enters hell in '76. After getting his ass stomped by the Radio Demon a decade ago, Sir P's lost most of his allies because they no longer have faith he can conquer hell (and even if they do, they don't want to risk getting on the Radio Demon's bad side—they don't know why he attacked Sir P, how do they know he won't attack his allies?) so he's got like, five informants. It takes him a month to find out about this weapon. If another overlord finds out about the weapon first and snatched up the weapon-maker, then Sir P has lost all opportunity to replicate it until the other overlord has made and started using it and he can get his hands on a copy to reverse-engineer, by which point this weapon's probably already on the way to being obsolete.

But say he DOES somehow get to this soul before anyone else: he's got like, maybe one or two mines under his control, so it takes a lot longer to extract the necessary raw materials, and that's assuming those mines have the materials this weapon needs. He might need to attack other factories or warehouses to steal the supplies he needs—and these factories & warehouses are probably being guarded by people armed with weapons he hasn't had a chance to replicate because a different overlord snatched up the weapon-maker before he ever heard about them, so they might overpower him, might even take out one of his airships. But say his raids succeed; they could take a couple of months, between planning and carefully executing the needed attacks.

It could take a couple more months for his heavily reduced number of engineers to figure out how to replicate the weapon, especially if it's outside their fields of expertise and he needs to find and recruit someone new to help—and what if he can't recruit anyone, because Sir P is no longer a top overlord that people will want to work for?

Meanwhile, Sir P is busy viciously defending his now very small turf with only a couple of airships at his disposal, AND he's got to plan and lead the raids for supplies, AND he's got to find and recruit new followers, AND he's got to organize repairs and do damage control if another overlord takes an airship out... so it might take him ANOTHER month to get around to looking at the designs himself and seeing if he can improve them. And maybe he's so stressed and overworked and tired he can't think of a way to improve the weapon.

So six months have passed and they have a rushed weapon that they might have had to make with shoddy stolen materials... and in that time, maybe someone with a weapon designed to overpower this one has died, and Vox has already snatched them up and made that weapon in a month, and so Sir P's new weapon is worthless before he uses it. Now he's six months behind.

Except he's not JUST six months behind. All his airships—which are his main bases, his main weapons, his main defenses, and his main transportation all in one—got blown up in '66, so he probably spent all of '66 and probably the next few years airshipless while he tried to rebuild them. Except while he tried to rebuild them, other overlords were stealing his turf because he had no airships to defend it—if he hears a facility of his is being attacked fifty miles away, he's powerless to go defend it. He's got no airships he can send to fight off the attackers. He's got no choice but to lose it. And that happened over and over, and he lost the very facilities he needed to rebuild his airships. So now it's gonna take twice as long to build half as many airships. And during all those YEARS he's trying to rebuild his airships, he's NOT going to be able to expend resources on keeping up with the latest weapons tech.

So in '76, he's not actually struggling to snatch up the newest weapon maker; in '76, he's finally built five airships, and they're all running on '66 technology. How is he going to even BEGIN replicating '76 technology if he completely missed out on learning about the '70 technology it's based on? By the time he's learned about '70 technology and is ready to face '76 technology, it's now '78.

Oh except another overlord who knows he's currently weak and fears what a threat he'll pose when he's strong again goes and crushes all his airships and now he falls behind five years again as he rebuilds AGAIN. And at this point Sir Pent is getting desperate, so he starts making stupid rushed mistakes in a scramble to gain some ground. (Stupid rushed mistakes like charging into Cherri Bomb's turf right after an extermination, or stupid rushed mistakes like aiming a giant cannon at Alastor just because he happens to be there.) And those stupid mistakes lose him more airships and set him back AGAIN.

It's an endless cycle. He lacks the resources to catch up with the latest developments; without the latest developments, he can't get the resources he needs.

History lesson! The fact that Sir Pent was a top overlord for so long was part luck and part momentum. When he died in 1888, he was THE first supervillain. In life he had no peers, and in death he had no peers. He was THE ONLY ONE who knew how to make the weapons of mass destruction he made. He was the ONLY human soul that could make a machine that could slaughter hundreds. The only ones stronger than him were fallen angels and proper demons (not souls who had died, but entities like Lucifer or Stolas) who had proper borderline-godly powers.

In 1933, the Radio Demon took out the power of a vast majority of those proper demons, and that's what buoyed Sir Pent up to being in a position where he could start conquering hell properly. Again, in '33, he was THE ONLY human soul who could do that. (Except, perhaps, Alastor himself, but he has no interest in claiming turf.) Other human souls began gaining power the way he had—both in the living world and in hell, there were people specifically following his example as a supervillain—but he was doing it first, and he was doing it with a lifetime (and afterlifetime) of experience. By the 60s, there were other human overlords around who'd gained some experience and were now just as good at him... but they didn't have his resources. He had a head start on them of decades. So all of them were the ones taking six months to make a weapon because he held all the supplies and personnel they needed to make the weapons. That's the primary reason he was ahead of them. Yeah, he's brilliant... but his overlord opponents are all brilliant too in different ways. The difference was, he's brilliant AND he had ten factories already.

(And it's worth remembering that he also had the Radio Demon, who's basically a walking tornado, on his side for fifteen years; so every once in a while one of Sir Pent's enemies would just have an entire facility mutilated by this dude. Not only is that a powerful weapon to be wielding, but who's gonna wanna go work for one of the guys that might be targeted by the Radio Demon?)

So! That's why Sir Pent fell behind and stayed behind. No heartbreak, and no curse. Just mathematics. Just resources. He stayed ahead because he came into hell with more resources than anyone else and stayed behind after Alastor reduced him to less resources than everyone else.

As for the "karma" section in the fic—not one single word of that scene reflects what's happening in hell in the slightest. Every single word of that scene reflects what's happening in Alastor's head. Fifty years after screwing over Sir P, he feels so miserable that he feels like he's being specifically punished. After seeing how massive and unintended the consequences of his actions are, he feels like he must be some kind of walking curse designed to torture Sir Pent.

On the one hand, seeing everything that's happened to himself and Sir P in the last fifty years and describing it as "karmic punishment/our assigned tortures in hell" is a reflection of how cataclysmically sublimely unhappy they both are. He's like, I'm so damn miserable it's GOTTA be divine punishment because nothing else could be this awful. On the other hand, it lets Alastor push some of the blame off of himself (because this REALLY IS all his fault!) and onto fate instead, like, oh, I couldn't have avoided this, it's our divine punishment. And if it's divine punishment, then there's nothing he can do to change it, is there? There's no point in trying. There's no need for him to say "I'm sorry" and try to make up for his mistakes. Because they aren't really his mistakes. He's just acting out some sort of karmic role. Right?

(And remember that a chapter earlier he was waxing poetic about how hell's not actually a bad place, really, he and Sir Pent deserve to be in hell together because it's the place they'll be happiest. :) :) :) Like, that's a direct contradiction to his "karma" theory. In both cases, neither scene is saying true things about the nature of hell—it's just Alastor's speculation based on how he currently feels.)

The logic fueling his "Sir Pent and I are each other's assigned punishments and there's nothing I can do about that but grin and bear it" is the same logic fueling his "dead sinners can't be redeemed, they had their chance in life and wasted it, now they're in hell forever" to Charlie in the pilot. The message behind both is the same: we can't and shouldn't be forgiven for our past mistakes; why bother trying to make up for them?

#(welcome to my blog I answer questions about my fics with essays) #(it's an act of love I promise) #anonymous #ask #about my writing #meta #sir pentious #alastor

[no-gorms]

hi! i just wanted to let you know that you're an incredibly talented writer and i love all of your stony fics! i especially loved the fic Cold Space, Warm Welcome, and was wondering if you could write a steve!pov version of it! i'd love to see your take on pining!steve, which i'm sure would be wonderful. thank you so much for sharing your writing with us, and i hope you have a wonderful day!

Hiiiiii thank you! 😘

I’m very fond of Cold Space, Warm Welcome, it’s true. I’m not gonna write a full-length Steve POV, but here, have a ficlet I just cobbled together! Hope you like, and that you have a wonderful day, too.

By the way, I’m mostly putting the tumblr prompts I’ve received on hold for now (though I love them all), because I’m currently struggling working on a timestamp for front row seats and want to get that posted before the auction for Marvel Trumps Hate starts. I’ve signed up for the auction and BY THE BY if anyone wants to bid on me, I’m open to timestamps/sequels to most fics I’ve written (please send me a message to confirm which ones are possible) sooooooo

+

Everyone’s making a fuss over nothing. Steve’s had more than his fair share of falling into vacuum, and really, it was only a matter of time before he’d do it with a malfunctioning suit. It’s only been a few minutes since he’d arrived on board the Iron Advance but he’s already regained coordination and feeling in his hands and feet. 

“You drink that up,” Natasha says, nodding at the cup in his hands, courtesy of Happy and the Iron Advance hangar’s drinks dispensary. Why didn’t they have one on the Furtherance? Oh well.

Steve squints at the steaming mug in his hands. “Don’t you have a black box to decode?”

“It’s on my list,” Natasha says. “After making sure the Captain hasn’t frozen to death.”

“C’mon, it’d take more than a space jaunt to freeze our Cap,” Clint says.

“Oh, so this is typical of y’all,” Rhodey says. “Is that what I’m hearing?”

While the others erupt into what is no doubt a fruitful discussion on what is and isn’t the norm of the two crews, Steve focuses on the drink. Truth be told, he thinks it’s not mainly the drink, nor the blanket on his shoulders, that’s making him feel better and raring to go.

It’s the excitement of where they are, all of them, on the Iron Advance. Although losing a good ship will sting for a long time, Steve has always kept his focus forward and onward and upward, through his military career and Sol service and wars that lost their purpose long before their momentum.

Better to be in the here and now, on a ship that belongs to trust allies, and especially…

Actually, there he is.

Steve thinks he might’ve developed a hypersensitivity to the color combo of red-and-gold. Just seeing it at the corner of his eye makes him perk up, as it does now, thanks to Tony’s marching across the hangar, his armor’s boots surprisingly light on the metal walkway. Steve wondered earlier where he’d gone off to, when everyone else had landed. Even now, Tony isn’t approaching them, but is instead walking towards a metal rig by the bulkhead.

Steve feels himself ready to get up and call out – Tony, where are you going?

But then Tony turns, stepping backward into the rig, and the armor opens.

The armor opens – Steve had no idea it could open like that, and he thought it was a far more difficult process what with how he’s never Tony so much as take off his helmet – whereby plates and flaps do a complicated but seemingly effortless dance around its human pilot, who then steps out.

Its human pilot, who is Tony, who steps down onto the grate.

He is – that is – that’s Tony.

Steve can’t say he’s never wondered what Tony looks like inside the suit. He’s wondered a lot, but he’s also figured that it didn’t matter, because Tony could look like anyone and he’d still be wonderful – funny, smart, sarcastic, and such a good guy when he’s not feeling self-conscious about it.

But Steve now realizes that he had developed some mental images of Tony that persisted. Namely, the strong association of Tony with the red-and-gold armor meant that Steve’s been thinking of the man underneath as having the traits of that armor, too – shiny, glossy, perfectly crafted like the amazing creations he makes.

But Tony’s not perfectly-crafted and glossy. He’s just… a guy. He’s a human being with messy hair, unkempt overalls and workshop stains on his arms and hands. A human being with clever brown eyes, a goatee over a chin that hints at a smirk, strong arms and tapered waist, plus all of above in a single package that is breathtakingly touchable and relatable and vulnerable in ways that the armor isn’t.

One thing remains true between the armor and the man underneath: they’re both beautiful.

The man rather more, though.

The man’s also scowling at him. And is turning away, muttering an instruction to the Iron Advance’s computer under his breath.

Steve should say something. He must say something. But all his brain can summon up is a variation of, Oh wow, which is neither useful nor witty, and Steve wants to be witty.

“I got your shield,” Tony calls out at him. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh, that’s—” Steve starts to get up, but pressure on his shoulder keeps him sitting. This is a sorry state of affairs, because Tony leaves without even a glance back, as though Steve’s the only one who feels the weight of this historical moment, because it is a historical moment.

“That’s…” Steve realizing that he’s still staring down the doorway Tony disappeared through. “That’s Tony.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey says slowly. “I’m pretty sure you’ve met.”

Steve blinks rapidly, as though a fog is just rising out of his brain. He quickly busies himself consuming the drink in his hands, and ignores the sound Natasha makes behind his back.

#anonymous #verse: cold space warm welcome #superhusbands #scaramouche writes superhusbands fic #scaramouche answers asks