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tinyundercover · 1 month

Text

pepper & felix

part three

this is my fav chapter so far :D word count: 2.4k

Pepper was in trouble.

It had been a risky decision to try and grab some spinach from the human’s leftover salad— and right now he was suffering the consequences. He trembled behind the mug on the counter, which had been the quickest hiding spot for when the human had entered the room.

It had been ten minutes, and the human was still doing dishes. With the setback of the bowl breaking, it was taking even longer.

Pepper winced. When the bowl had cracked in half only a few inches from his hiding spot, it had been so immeasurably deafening that he couldn’t help but shriek out loud. Somehow, the human hadn’t seemed to hear him.

His soulmate, however, had noticed his sudden terror, and after a few moments Pepper bid him farewell. It was nice to talk to his soulmate for a few minutes just to take his mind off of the situation, but after the bowl incident he was starting to feel too stressed to focus on anything but the human two feet away.

He glared down at the piece of spinach in his hands. This was so not worth it.

A shadow crossed over Pepper, and in that moment he realized that his chosen hiding spot had been a mug… while the human was doing dishes.

“Fuck—!” He muttered under his breath, spinning on his heel, trying to decide if he could make it to the wall without being seen—

The mug was lifted off of the counter in a terrifying display of strength, and Pepper’s heart dropped into his stomach, an icy chill settling over his spine.

“Wha— oh—!”

Pepper only caught a glimpse of startled blue eyes, high above him, before cold adrenaline seized him. He sprinted, dropping the spinach.

He didn’t have a definite escape route, he just knew that he needed to get the fuck out of there. His heart pounded as he made a beeline for the toaster, which he could hide behind, maybe—

Wham.

Pain rocketed through Pepper’s body as he slammed into something and stumbled back, bringing a shaky hand to his forehead. Within seconds, heat and pressure closed around his miniscule frame, and suddenly Pepper’s feet left the counter. No— NO! The world spun around him.

When the movement and vertigo subsided, Pepper gasped for air, arms pinned against his sides. Massive fingers surrounded him.

He was in a hand.

He was in a hand!

His heart dropped past his stomach into the floor down below. Cold realization settled over his spine that he was completely trapped.

Pepper’s parents had drilled one single rule into him from the moment he was born to the moment he moved out. Never, under any circumstances, should you let a human get their hands on you.

Now he was trapped, and there was nothing he could do.

“Woah…”

A voice, low but overpowering, filled the air. Pepper stiffened, staring up at the human whose massive form took up the entirety of his vision.

Blue eyes scanned Pepper’s body, wide and curious. Blonde eyebrows disappeared under a mop of matching blonde hair, and the human’s voice was filled with disbelief when he asked, “What are you?”

Pepper’s heart pounded against the massive thumb pressing into his chest. He barely processed the human’s question, too focused on glancing around, hopelessly trying to find some sort of escape route.

“Can you talk?” The human pressed, either not noticing Pepper’s panic or ignoring it.

Beginning to thrash and squirm against the overpowering hand, Pepper elected not to answer. There was no way he would willingly talk to a human.

Aside from his soulmate, he thought briefly, and in any other situation he would have laughed.

Pepper froze as the human’s second hand approached. A massive finger the size of his body touched the top of his head, ruffling his black hair with a surprising gentleness. After a moment the finger withdrew, and the human leaned forward, squinting at the small borrower.

“There’s no way you’re real,” the human muttered, seemingly to himself.

Pepper couldn’t see very well, but he was fairly certain that he was only being held a few inches above the counter. If he managed to squirm free of the human’s hand, he would probably survive the fall with minor injuries. Then he could escape behind the toaster, where he knew there was a hidden crack in the wall…

The human suddenly seemed to acknowledge Pepper’s thrashing, and he carefully loosened his grip, just enough that the borrower could breathe without gasping for air. Pepper continued to jerk around to the best of his ability.

“Here, little guy, don’t hurt yourself– ah!”

With a sudden determination, Pepper sunk his teeth into the human’s thumb.

The hand instantly snapped open in shock, accompanied by a sharp gasp from the human. Pepper instinctively yelped, throwing his hands out as if to stop the sudden free fall.

Slamming into the counter sent cold pain rocketing through Pepper’s body, but he barely acknowledged it, too focused on getting away. He was on his feet in an instant, bolting towards the wall, the world spinning around him.

“Shit—!”

The massive hand reappeared, attempting to block Pepper’s path, but the borrower was prepared this time. He dodged around the human’s grasp, lightly grazing the fingertips, and dug his heels into the ground to further his stride.

The toaster was only a few inches away when Pepper slammed into something solid for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Expecting to be trapped in a hand, he staggered back, lifting his arms—

—and stared, dumbfounded, at the wall of glass surrounding him.

He spun on his heels, heart still pounding with adrenaline. The human’s face was slightly blurred through the glass, frowning down at Pepper.

“Sorry,” the human murmured, leaning closer to peer in at the borrower. “I don’t want you to bite me again.”

Pepper stumbled back, falling against the glass wall behind him. Pain was beginning to settle over his ribs and arms, his body finally acknowledging that he had been knocked around far too many times in the last ten minutes. Considering he had just been gripped in the hand of a human, Pepper decided that he was alright with a little soreness. The alternative had been death.

The glass cup around Pepper was solid and unmovable. Dread filled his stomach, and he slid down, pulling his knees close to his chest.

“See? You’re okay, little guy,” the human said softly, leaning against the counter. Pepper sent him a miserable glare. Being called “little guy” was so dehumanizing.

He hated being under the scrutiny of such a massive being. After years of hiding in shadows, he felt sick underneath the bright overhead light, trapped inside a glass cup like some sort of bug.

“What the hell are you?” The human wondered, crossing his arms on the counter.

Pepper wasn’t listening. All he could think about was his beautiful sister.

She’ll never even know what happened to him.

Fresh tears began to flow before he could stop them. Pepper choked on his breath and buried his face in his arms, shoulders shuddering with each gasp.

“Oh… you’re crying. Uh, okay, I didn’t mean to scare you, little guy, please don’t—“

“Fuck you.” Pepper’s small voice was thick with tears when he snapped his head up, sending a tear-filled glare up at the human.

The human’s face went blank at Pepper’s words, and silence fell over the two of them. After a few seconds he jerked back, lips parting in shock. “Wh— you can talk?” His words were quick, filled with a sudden panic.

Pepper momentarily regretted his words, but decided that he was already caught, who cares if the human knew he could talk? He huffed, dragging his shaky hands through his sweaty hair. “Fuck. You,” he repeated, more firmly. “You— you don’t own me.”

The human went still, staring down at him through wide, blue eyes. His face was pale.

After a moment his massive hand appeared, slowly closing around the glass. Pepper inhaled quickly, jumping to his feet, ignoring the soreness in his ribs. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry,” Pepper said quickly, fear flaring up in his chest. He stared, wide-eyed, as the glass was effortlessly lifted away and set aside.

He locked eyes with the human, his brief confidence vanishing with the lack of a barrier between them. He hugged himself, feeling smaller than ever, unsure if he should apologize or run away or just cuss the human out.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” the human said hollowly. “I didn’t mean— I— I wasn’t gonna trap you, I promise, I just wanted to see you. I’m sorry.”

Pepper ran his hands over his arms, at a loss for words. His gaze danced around, lingering on the human’s nearby hands.

“Are you hurt?”

Pepper’s lips thinned. After a moment’s consideration, he glanced down at his body. He was wearing a jacket and pants, and he couldn’t see his skin, but he was very confident that he would have heavy bruises in the morning. (If he lived to see the morning.)

His joints ached, and a soreness filled his entire body, but he didn’t think anything was permanently broken. Considering the circumstances, this was getting off easy.

“I’m… alive,” Pepper said simply, frowning up at the human.

The human exhaled. “Okay, that’s good, I just wanted to—“

“Are you gonna kill me?” Pepper cut him off.

The human blanched, jerking his head back. “Kill you? Dude, wha—? No! No, of course not!” Genuine hurt filled his voice, and he blinked several times, staring at Pepper in concern. He swallowed. “Why would you think that?”

Pepper nearly laughed. “You just grabbed me and then trapped me in a cup,” he pointed out, voice wobbling. “And— and I know humans kill people like me all the time.”

“People like you?” The human echoed. “So… you’re not human…?”

At Pepper’s ashen face, the human continued quickly, “Nevermind. Um, if it makes you feel better, I don’t think most humans even know you exist, let alone would want to kill you.”

Pepper pursed his lips. “That’s good,” he said carefully, keeping an eye on the human’s hands. “I’m… sorry that you found me. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You didn’t bother me,” the human said hurriedly. “I promise. I’m sorry about everything. I shouldn’t have grabbed you, or— or trapped you. I didn’t realize that you were, well, a person.” He frowned apologetically. “What’s your name?”

Pepper was startled to receive a genuine apology. He turned the question over in his mind several times before saying flatly, “Pepper.”

“Pepper,” the human repeated. The sound of his name on a human’s tongue made his stomach squirm. “That’s a nice name. I’m Felix.”

“Okay,” Pepper said simply. After a moment, he added, “Can I leave?”

Asking a human for permission to do anything made him sick to his stomach, and judging by the human’s uncomfortable expression, he wasn’t fond of it either.

“Well, yeah! You don’t have to ask. But— do you need help… getting to the door…?” He gestured vaguely to the front door, way across the room. It would take Pepper probably thirty minutes to get all the way over there. “And… I feel weird to ask, but… where exactly are you gonna go?” His gaze danced over Pepper’s tiny form.

The borrower hummed. Right. The human didn’t know that there were more than six entrances for Pepper hidden all over the apartment.

He debated his options. He could be honest and admit that there was a crack in the wall less than six inches behind him, but that might lead to more questions from the human.

Or… Pepper could accept the human’s insane offer to carry him to the front door, placing him inside of a human’s massive hand once again, and then deal with surviving outside of the apartment with barely any belongings, most likely ending in his immediate death.

“Actually…” Pepper sent Felix an awkward smile, inching towards the wall. “There’s an exit right here.”

The human’s eyebrows lifted and he followed Pepper’s point to the toaster. He seemed somewhat confused, and Pepper said heavily, “There’s a crack in the wall, behind the toaster. That’s how I got here in the first place.”

“You live in the walls, then?”

Pepper’s mouth opened, then closed several times. “Um…”

The human— Felix— seemed to understand that Pepper was apprehensive to respond. He nodded quickly. “Uh, it’s okay, nevermind. Here, I’m just gonna…”

Pepper watched in amazement as the human suddenly backed away, hands raised. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

The borrower blinked, then slowly nodded.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Pepper.” Felix sent Pepper a quick, encouraging smile before turning around and exiting the kitchen.

Pepper blinked several times, wondering if that had just happened. He stared around the countertop, locking his gaze on the discarded glass cup a few inches away.

Did the human just… let him go?

There was no time to dwell on it. Heart pounding with adrenaline, Pepper spun around, booking it for the wall, making sure to snatch up the piece of spinach as he went. (This can’t all have been for nothing.)

He stumbled through the crack in the wall, mind wandering. Did that really just happen? Was he just caught by a human, only to be released with a couple of bruises?

Felix had actually seemed apologetic, too. A massive, terrifying human had actually felt bad for trapping Pepper. The borrower let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his tears, unable to believe his luck of being caught by a nice human. He almost felt disappointed, knowing he would have to move out now, according to the borrower rules.

He supposed he could just move to a different floor, or to an apartment further down the hall. He wasn’t quite sure how big this building was, but it might be fun to explore a little more. After tonight’s ordeal, he was just happy to be alive.

He was trying to remember which floor Felix lived on when a familiar voice entered his mind.

“Hey– the craziest thing just happened to me.”

The borrower lifted his eyebrow, bringing his interlocked fingers to his chest. “What’s that?”

His soulmate’s next words made Pepper freeze in his tracks.

“I just met a person the size of my finger.”

-----

they finally met!!! probably not in the best way, but....... they met!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! pepper and felix still have a lot in store for them :]

#g/t #g/t writing #gt #gt writing #pepper & felix

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muses-of-the-mind · 8 months

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Possessive

Hero’s breath came in little gasps, head bowed as they staggered against the binds. Their fluttering eyes flit across the room, scanning for any cracks in the wall or pieces of furniture that they could make use of in their state. Their brow trickled with sweat at the realisation that there would be no way out this time.

“Who was that, by the way?”

The soft voice broke Hero’s frantic train of thought and they lifted their head to look at the blurry figure.

Villain leaned against a broken table, their stoic gaze focused on the twirling dagger in their hands. “The villain you were fighting with on TV recently. The one that made you go famous.”

Hero paused, nausea churning in their gut. “…Other Villain? They’re a criminal I caught.”

The dagger came to a stop. Villain’s gaze caught theirs, a hardness growing in their eyes. “I’m aware of that. Why did you catch them?”

“Because it’s my job?”

“So they don’t mean anything to you?”

“Villain, what?” Hero’s knees trembled, close to collapsing and Villain’s cryptic questions did nothing to help their vertigo.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Villain snapped, striding towards them. A quiet rage purposed their steps and they leaned down close enough to cast a shadow across Hero’s face.

“First you show up late to my robberies and now you’re out here fighting other villains?! Does the word arch nemesis mean nothing to you? I swear, ever since you’ve gotten famous, you won’t even respond to my threats anymore.”

Hero’s head spun, though now they were thinking it was more due to Villain’s idiocy rather than the drug. “I’m-I’m sorry?”

“You should be.” Villain crossed their arms, a dark look passing over their face that vaguely reminded Hero of a petulant child.

A few moments passed.

“Is that why you kidnapped me?”

“Maybe. I mean, you have to admit it hurts when you think you’re devoted enemies to one another and then they philander with someone behind your back.”

Hero exhaled, shutting their eyes with exasperation. “If I promise not to fight any other villain except you, will you let me go?”

Villain’s eyebrows furrowed as they considered it, lips turning into a soft frown. “Sure. But if you ever break our promi—“

“Yeah yeah, I get it. Now, please, give me the antidote before I regret my decision.”

Villain returned to their usual state of joviality at Hero’s acceptance, “Oh, there is no antidote! It wears off after a couple hours so have a good nap.”

Hero didn’t even have time to curse at them before their knees hit the ground, body wracking in one final spasm before becoming limp.

Villain turned around, humming under their breath as they went to investigate about the criminal.

Of course, just because they had let Hero go with little repercussions didn’t mean they had any intention of giving Hero’s beloved criminal the same treatment. They had a little treat in store for whoever messed with their dear nemesis.

#heroes and villains #hero x villain #villain x hero #creative writing #snippet #my writing

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payasita · 7 months

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Speaking of fic stuff: The Lamb and Nari wake up one morning covered in bandages, surrounded by empty bottles. They have ZERO recollection of the night before. Now what?

He awakes to a taste like bile and rust, and with one hand wrapped in at least twenty layers of gauze.

Narinder takes a second to stare at it, wiggling immobile fingers and contemplating the mechanics of sitting up with a head somehow filled with both cotton and lead. He drops the hand and decides against it, rolling over and pulling a blanket over his head. The movement does absolutely heinous things to his stomach.

A slow minute passes before he realizes he is not under a blanket at all. It's comfortable regardless, so he cannot summon the effort to care. Far softer than anything yet available in the commune. The familiar scent doesn't hurt, warm and securely claimed with his own, and indeed does a good job in blocking out the currently unmanageable stench of the outside world.

Until it's nearly pulled away from him. He clutches onto it with a hiss, and instantly regrets moving so quickly.

"Oh good, you're alive." The Lamb gives it another tug. "Give me back my fleece."

Narinder vaguely remembers having lost a battle against them while at his full divine potential. He'd even had both hands available to him and everything. He cannot truly imagine the odds are with him now.

"Thank you," they huff when he unlatches his claws. He searches for something else to cover his face while they clothe themself. His skull appears to be imploding.

"I am dying," he declares. There's a few seconds of silence. Contemplation on the Lamb's end. Abject suffering on Narinder's.

"Nope. Not sensing it."

"Your competence with the Crown is dubious at best."

"You're not dying," they assure him, lightheartedly, "It just feels like it."

He groans, rolling over and hitting himself in the face with the large gauze lump in his attempt to throw his arm over his eyes. He snarls, and begins blindly picking at it with his free claw to find the edge.

The Lamb snorts, leaning over him. They have an armful of empty bottles under an arm, and are looking infuriatingly chipper.

"How'd you go and do that to yourself?"

He glares at them, pointedly.

"I clearly cannot have done this on my own."

"What, you don't remember?"

"...No," he admits. "What happened, then?"

"Oh, hell if I know," the Lamb laughs, and is saved from having that smile shorn off their face by his vertigo alone.

They move around him and pick up another bottle, inspecting it. "I was at the same feast you were, y'know. And if you'd had all this yourself, you probably would be dead," they gesture to the bundle under their arm, already five or six strong and slipping a bit.

"... Actually, we should probably both still be dead," they tut. "I don't even know what the flock puts in this stuff, 'sides from berries. But wow, they're good at it. Hey, actually, do you think maybe we have the makings of something worth exporting to the outside world? Plimbo's always making trips back and forth to who-knows-where, I bet we could--"

"Lamb."

"Mm?"

"Your chattering is causing me physical pain."

"Oop. ...Guess I should be grateful for the divine healing factor, huh?"

Narinder ponders the irony of wishing Death incarnate to choke, and finally finishes unraveling his hand. He squints at it. He sees no damage whatsoever that might have compelled anyone to waste medical resources on him. Not a strand out of place. He inspects his claws, and finds a bit of blood under them. Odd.

"There must be, like, a dozen bottles of wine in here. Do you think I drank most of it? I remember everyone in the temple cheering when I started chugging one. ...Or, uh. Three," the Lamb recounts, setting the pile down on a nearby table. Narinder watches them, scanning down their body for any abnormalities. No claw marks or stab wounds remain, but they would be gone by now. Still. The fact that he feels metal when he pushes his hand under his pillow is probably worth noting.

"You have a basket around here?" the Lamb asks after a point, "I need somewhere to put these."

Narinder says, "I do not live here."

"...Whuh?"

"This is not my hut."

The Lamb pauses. They glance around, newly curious. Narinder grasps at the bit of metal under his pillow, and retrieves a dagger. It is smeared with blood. He eyes it, vaguely toying with the way light plays off of the dull blade.

"Did I attempt to kill you last night?" he asks idly. The Lamb looks over. They see the knife.

"...Nnnno?" They try, not even attempting to sound certain.

"I believe," Narinder mutters, hardly feeling bothered to spare the focus, "I might have killed someone."

The Lamb looks at him, having the grace to at least look troubled. Narinder, on the other hand, remains far more concerned with the roiling in his stomach.

"... Okay, wait. Wait, I think I remember-- yeah," the Lamb snaps, and points at him. "Yeah! You lost your hand privileges."

"What," Narinder says.

"Yeah! You were doing-- something," the Lamb waves off vaguely, "Yeah, I think I remember-- I had to take the claws away? I mean. That would explain the bandages?"

Narinder glances over. It certainly sounds like the sort of logic they would act upon, in the event of his own uninhibited violence.

"...So I did try and kill you, again."

"Iiii, dunno? I mean. Maybe?" Again, they don't sound remotely sure. The "divine healing factor" does not, it appears, account for episodes of alcoholic blackout. Good to know.

So, trying to kill his spouse was one possible explanation. Admittedly, it wasn't even a far-fetched one. But the ambient stench of this hut offers another.

"Lamb," Narinder sits up, winning a valiant battle with his own vertigo, "Whose shelter is this?"

The Lamb pauses. They look around again at all the bottles strewn about. They look up. At the same time they do, a droplet of blood plops onto their cheek.

"...I think his name was Bremar," the Lamb hums.

"You think?"

"I mean, the Crown can only tell me so much. 'Specially when the corpse in question has somehow been reduced to... uh... streamers."

"Ah."

"So, uh, we should--- we should go."

Narinder growls. His stomach does not agree with the prospect of standing up anytime soon.

"Ten more minutes."

"Nari," the Lamb deadpans, "You eviscerated a guy."

"...Five, then."

#cult of the lamb #narilamb #drabble #and then they had breakfast there. it's fine #man its been FOREVER since anyone sent me an inbox prompt #this was fun thank u saph #cotl #nice to do something i dont have to spend a full day editing #cw warnings for canon typical murder and also booze

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waspsarebetterthanbeesanyways · 1 year

Text

Only the Dead 9

part 1

Jason looks at the bloodstains by the computer, and Barbara’s wrapped corpse. “And who is that?” he asks warily.

Cass looks away. Damian buries his face in his hands and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to explain any of this. His heart hurts; he doesn’t want to acknowledge Barbara’s death, doesn’t want to have to put it into words.

Jason watches them quietly, soberly. His expression pinches when he looks back at the body, coming to his own conclusions.

Of course, that grim scene is the one Phantom emerges into. He comes flying through the wall at a breakneck speed, only to stop on a dime. He’s covered in several sluggishly bleeding wounds, and he’s panting, each breath fogging up in the air. His scans the room rapidly, and visibly relaxes when he sees all three of them. “There you are,” he says. “Come on, we have to go, now.”

Damian snarls, hand automatically going to the hilt of his sword. “Phantom. How did you find us?”

“I can explain later, but we’ve got a bunch of angry ghosts on our asses and we need to go right now!”

Damian draws his blade. “I don’t think we should go anywhere with you, Ghost Prince.”

Phantom rakes both hands through his hair, eyes wide open and wild. “Are we really doing this right now?!”

Damian grinds his teeth. He feels so hot, he feels like he’s burning, and rage erupts in him. “All of this is happening because of you,” he hisses. “All of this death, and for all I know you’re the one leading this invasion. I will not let you creatures win!”

Phantom’s next breath doesn’t fog, and his eyes widen. “Get down!” he shouts, lunging towards Damian. Damian slashes at him with his sword, but it harmlessly passes through Phantom, and he successfully knocks Damian to the floor. Barely a moment later, claws sweep through the air where Damian’s head had been.

Damian turns his head to look at his new assailant, and all at once, his rage drains away. Vertigo rushes through him. Even despite her orange eyes and bright green skin, he recognizes this ghost.

“Al Ghul spawn,” she says. “I’ve finally found you. Do you remember me?”

“Aadya Majumdar,” slips out of his lips without his conscious permission. All at once, he’s a child again, on one of his first solo missions with the League of Assassins. He’d been meant to kill her in her sleep, but despite his training, despite his already growing kill count, he’d hesitated. She’d woken up and fought back, screaming and scratching at him with her nails. In his mind, he’s staring down at her, covered in blood, watching the light drain from her eyes.

“And if it isn’t our dearest Prince Phantom,” she says, staring at Phantom with dark eyes. “Are you intending to get in the way of my rightful vengeance?”

Phantom floats upright, flipping midair to face her. “I’m against the murder of humans, no matter the circumstances.”

“Murder? He murdered me!” she shouts. Her voice crackles like electricity, and all of the lightbulbs in the room shatter, leaving only the dim light from the computer screen. “But then, you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Phantom crosses his arms and stares at her with icy blue eyes. “If I were you, I’d spend less time thinking about my death and more time wondering what the hell you did to get killed by a child.”

With a screech, Aadya launches herself at Phantom, claws extended. Phantom gracefully whirls into a roundhouse kick strong enough to send her careening through the wall, and then he swiftly dives after her.

“What in the everloving fuck was that?!” Jason asks.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #only the dead au

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swaps55 · 3 months

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Trademark: Pining So Hard They Become Trees(tm)

Proud to be home to this particular trademark, my friend. Is it really pining if they aren't going so hard they can still long for each other while in each other's arms? I think no. XD

I could cite this entire chapter of Cantata for Pining So Hard They Become Trees, but I'll keep it to this bit, which is one of my favorites: ~

In the silence of space, the ‘Yang skips through firing lanes close enough to stick a knife in the enemy’s gut, the knife in this case being the GARDIAN lasers chewing away armor plating and shearing apart small enemy fighters that stray too close.

Ship-to-ship combat is an attrition of heat and numbers, and Kaidan has no control over any of it.

Not the moments of vertigo as the inertia dampeners temper the ‘Yang’s maneuvering burns, the intermittent shudder as the weapons systems find a target, not the slow, steady buildup of waste heat that will eventually force them to flee or cook within their own hull.

And not Shepard. The entire covert operation will play out on helmet cams and comm channels, with Kaidan as a witness. Shepard is nothing more than a pinprick of warmth, lost in the rage of heat playing out on sensors. Kaidan glues his eyes to that pinprick, heart in his throat as he waits to see if the Cannae’s GARDIAN lasers detect the infiltration team hidden in the heat signatures of the battle playing out around them.

It’s not until Shepard’s grav boots connect with the Cannae’s hull that the white drains from Kaidan’s knuckles.

But now that they’ve reached the target, there’s a new fear. Pendergrass hovers over Kaidan’s shoulder, chewing a hangnail as the N team hunts for explosives along the hijacked ship’s hull, because its captors would rather slag the whole thing than see it taken back.

Shepard finds the first bomb.

Pendergrass stops chewing and reviews the scans, walking Shepard through diffusing it, and every other one they find, while Kaidan listens in helpless silence until he’s forced to take another breath.

The comms erupt with gunfire when they breach the hull. Kaidan fixes his gaze on Shepard’s helmet cam, the visual slightly out of sync with the audio feed. They had no way to know how many enemies would be waiting on board, but four N6s led by the galaxy’s first N7 don’t give a shit about the odds. Somewhere in the mix Anderson manages to shut off the gravity, taking the linear firefight into multiple planes.

It’s like freeing a predator from a cage. Shepard’s helmet cam spins with dizzying swiftness as he kicks off walls, floor and ceiling ceasing to have meaning in zero G. His shotgun barks over the comm, tendrils of blue flickering around the edges of the camera lens, but this far away Kaidan’s gravity well remains silent and still.

A ragged cheer raises the rafters on the ‘Yang as the lead ship of the ragtag flotilla goes up. Kaidan presses a finger against his ear to ward off the sound, concentrating instead on the helmet cam and looking for any change in Shepard’s biofeeds.

The N team reaches the CIC. A lieutenant named Angevin goes down when they trigger an explosive while breaching the door, but not Shepard, it’s not Shepard, because there he is on Anderson’s helmet cam, blowing in like a tempest and executing three people, including their leader, without uttering a word. Minutes later, the stolen ship’s transponder changes back to an Alliance signature and the cheering begins anew.

Half the crew waits at the ‘Yang’s airlock to greet the N team when they return, Kaidan among them, swallowing back his relief like it’s a living, breathing thing. He gets lost in the shuffle when the airlock opens and the yelling starts, but Shepard’s gaze cuts through the crowd, and he parts it like Moses and the Red Sea. With a grin on his face that could shake the stars, he throws an armored arm around Kaidan and hugs him tight, thunking an energetic palm against his shoulder. Kaidan returns it just as fierce, the plating stiff and sterile against him.

“Did you see that?” Shepard exclaims when they part, elation on his face, hand still on Kaidan’s shoulder, biotic field humming with kinetic energy. This is Shepard in his element, Shepard at his best. The impossible means nothing to him.

Kaidan grins back. “Yeah, I saw it.”

How can I look away when it’s you?

#swaps replies #mallaidhsomo #mshenko #mememe #meme replies #opus!verse

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unemployedmage · 2 years

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John Constantine by Eduardo Risso

VERTIGO X

April 2003

#hellblazer #john constantine #vertigo comics #eduardo risso #dc vertigo #dc comics #featuring Death's hand in the upper left lol #im not gonna lie ive been obssessed with this for a long while #make eduardo risso the new hellblazer artist 2022 #my vertigo scans

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pablohunie1993 · 5 months

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how i'm looking at my phone when i spot a picture of a grown british man wearing an earring

#everyone at work thinking i'm texting my gf cause im cheesing so hard #when i'm just looking at hellblazer scans #hunched over my phone pupils dilated drooling and sweating experiencing the dopamine rush only a cocomelon baby knows #john constantine #hellblazer #john constantine's gay little earring #and then it's just an uncolored outline of a circle on his ear #dc comics #dcu #vertigo comics #dc vertigo #blah blah blah tags

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skinnyazn · 1 year

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In the Bleak Midwinter

The sequel to this story: The Masks We Wear

Ch.2 Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader Chapters: 2/5 Notes: Simon wakes up from a lil nappy nap, he can't stop thinking of Jag but she's gone, what's a man to do??, it's a short chapter but sets up the next chapter

It’s like floating through zero Gs—weightless in an endless void, deprived of all senses. He must be dead. He’s not known this kind of peace since a past life, but that was so long ago. And it’s easy to give in to its blanket-like warmth. A promising caress enveloping his entire body, conforming to him soundly and telling him it’s ok to yield—to stay. It’s peaceful here.

It’s hotter now, a searing heat infecting his limbs. He must be in hell. He’s fevered and pained and it makes him crave his endless void. He wants to go back. The inferno consumes every extremity and organ. The darkness is ripped away; that warm blanket set on fire. Please take me back. But there’s no rest for ghosts.

____

The lights were too bright when Simon woke. The throb of his killer headache made him want to vomit and everything was spinning. Movement felt like trudging through mud. His fingers slowly probed his face and he let out a sigh when they scratched a fabric mask. He shifted on the bed and was hit with a wave of vertigo.

“Easy there, Simon.”

Things were staring to come into focus. A sterile room with a bland curtain. The steady beeping of a monitor. An IV in his arm.

“Fek, you’re a tough bastard, hey?”

Price. Johnny. Simon’s eyes scanned the rest of the room, searching for something he couldn’t quite remember.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Soap’s hand pressed softly onto Simon’s shoulder. It felt like needles.

Simon groaned. He opened his mouth to speak but it was all sandpaper.

“How long?” he croaked.

“Just under a week. We had to induce a coma with all the blood you lost,” Price said. “You’ve been drifting in and out the past five days.”

Searing heat and pain. Grasping for the void that wouldn’t come.

“Gave us quite the scare there, Ghost.”

“Worried about me, Johnny?”

The Scott smiled. “You know it.”

Simon groaned as he shifted. “Would murder for a water.”

Soap laughed and uncapped a bottle. He gently lifted the bottom of Simon’s mask and gave him a sip.

“Cheers.”

He screwed back on the cap.

“What happened in Kokshetau?” Soap asked in a low voice.

“Jesus, Soap, he’s only just bloody woken,” Price chided.

Cold and white and beautiful. Snow crystalized on long, black lashes. Red cheeks flushed with exertion.

He tried to recall more but the memories were slow to percolate.

“Bastard dead?”

Price exhaled. “Yeah, yeah. Plus three others. Mission accomplished, Simon. A job well done.”

Simon hummed contented. He closed his eyes.

“Let’s let him rest, Soap.” Price stood and left the room. Johnny started to rise from his chair.

“Johnny,” Simon spoke, eyes still closed.

“Awrite, chief?”

“How is she?”

“Sound and well,” he gave a weak half smile. “Back home now that the job’s done.”

Of course. He knew she’d leave when it was over. People in her line of work didn’t stick around; people like him never got closure. But some selfish part of him hoped that she’d stay—that she’d be here in this room when he woke up.

Stay alive. And I’ll tell you one of my biggest secrets.

“She did visit though. Quite a lot actually. She uh, slept in here the last night before she left.” Soap’s eyes weren’t subtle when they flicked to the pulse line on the monitor. He shifted in his seat.

“Good man, Johnny.”

Soap rested his hand on his shoulder and gave a nod. He shut the door quietly behind him on his way out.

____

It was weeks before Simon was out of bed and nearly back to himself. Considering his near-death status, he had progressed exceptionally. But he hated the mundaneness of physical therapy. The scar on his thigh itched, and he had too much time to think about her.

“When’s my next assignment?” he asked Price in the mess hall. His captain looked at him.

“Think you need some more time off, Simon.”

“Think I need my next assignment.”

The older man sighed. “Take another week off, keep up with your P.T.. We can revisit the subject then.”

Simon's stare was gelid but Price didn’t budge.

“That’s an order, L.T..”

The metal chair scraped across the linoleum floor as Simon stood and walked out of the room. He reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed a number.

“Simon, this is unexpected… to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Got a favor to ask, Laswell.”

***** For those who wanted to be tagged!

@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago, @shuttlelauncher81, @k4marina, @embers-of-alluring

#ehehe #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost #cod fic #my fic #my fics #my writing #simon riley x you #mw2 fic #ghost mw2 #captain john price #oc #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #johnny soap mactavish

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shybunnie20 · 1 year

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★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie questions his disbelief in love at first sight when he spots you at the fall fair.

Author's Note: This is sort of a lovesick!Eddie, pretty fluffy stuff. Anywho, I've been focusing on heavy themes lately so this piece acts as a palette cleanser. I've got more angst in the works! Be sure to reblog, follow, and show some love ♡

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Insecurity (reader and Eddie), includes swearing.

tags: @protecteddiemunson4vr

It’s an immaculate evening for the annual Hawkins autumn fair. The town’s people are eager to relish outdoor activities before the relentless Indiana winter rolls in. Hues of pink and orange flood the sky and seep through the sparse clouds as dusk settles in. The whirring of the amusement ride motors stirs with the chatter of the masses in attendance.

Gareth, Mike, Dustin, and Eddie are hunched over a splintered picnic table, scarfing down freshly deep-fried treats. Eddie looks up from his half-eaten funnel cake and licks traces of powdered sugar from the corners of his mouth. He enjoys people-watching almost as much as he enjoys greasy food. It’s entertaining to observe the herds of sheep that blindly adhere to society’s expectations. He scans the bustling crowd of young families, past classmates, and people from neighboring towns.

His gaze lands on you and your friend, Erika, standing a few yards away. Eddie’s brows lift, eyelids widening at the sublime sight of you pulling at your wispy cone of cotton candy. He’s mesmerized by your spit-glossed lips pressing together as the candy floss dissolves on your tongue. With utmost certainty, he’s never witnessed someone this captivating.

Dustin notices the trance that Eddie is stuck in. “Why don’t you just go talk to her? It’s kinda creepy to stare like that.”

Reluctantly, Eddie tears his eyes from you. He fears that you might disappear into the crowd when he looks away. “I’m not staring. I’m just-”

“You’re absolutely staring. I don’t think you’ve blinked in the past minute. You’re practically gawking.”

Gareth chimes in with a mouthful of partially chewed mini doughnuts. “I agree with Henderson, you should go introduce yourself. She’s cute. ”

“Cute?” Eddie scoffs. “She’s fuckin' gorgeous… and out way of my league.”

A mischievous smile forms on Gareth’s face when he glances at you. “Dude, if you don’t talk to her, I will.”

Beneath the table, Eddie’s leg begins to bounce rapidly. “What would I even say? I can’t just walk up to her and be like ‘Hi, I’m Eddie. I run a satanic cult with my friends! Wanna join?’ No way, man.”

Dustin laughs, “I wouldn’t say that, it’ll scare her off. At least break the ice first. Perhaps a pick-up line?”

Eddie nibbles on his lower lip, pinching it between his teeth. “Y’think so?” A fierce vermillion tints the apples of his cheeks as he wonders what you sound like. An angel, probably.

Mike feels the need to give his two cents since he’s convinced himself that he’s the dating expert. “Are you nuts? You’re doomed if you think that’ll work. You gotta play it cool. Pretend you bumped into her or something and then strike up a conversation. Not one about being a cult leader.”

Dustin, Mike, and Gareth begin to argue about what the least humiliating strategy would be. Meanwhile, Eddie is too enthralled to wait for the verdict. Without realizing it, he’s gotten up from the picnic table and walked away, now standing inches from you and your friend.

In the midst of your conversation, Erika’s attention shifts to him tottering anxiously behind you. The manner in which he’s innocently admiring your figure gives away his reason for approaching. She nudges your arm with her elbow and nods to him to guide you.

Eddie tugs on the hangnails that line his cuticles while his mind blanks on what he’s going to say. When you pivot and your eyes lock with his, vertigo hits him like a brick wall. It’s like the racket of the environment is dampened, making it sound like he has cotton in his ears. Eddie feels a tugging in his ribs as tingling courses across his skin. Indisputably, the shade of your irises is his new favorite color. With an involuntary gulp, he holds on for dear life.

Your expression is meek but there’s an inviting softness to it. Guys don’t typically come up to you out of the blue. You’re well-convinced that only happens in the movies. Maybe you dropped something and he wants to return it?

“Hello.” Erika squeaks, assessing his appearance.

He really should’ve thought this through. Eddie clears his throat and wets his lips with his tongue, addressing you instead of her. “Uh- hi.”

You cock your head at him in lack of anticipation for what he’s going to say. Instead of returning the greeting, you pull another wad of cotton candy from the cone and eat it. The gritty sugar causes your mouth to water, the shine returning to your lips.

Eddie’s head is spinning from being this close to you, so he attempts to steady himself. He digs the toe of his right sneaker into the loose dirt on the ground. “D-Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? …‘Cause, you’re the only ten I see.” Fuck.

Judging by your expression, he thinks you’re embarrassed for him. Frankly, you’re astounded because a pretty guy just hit on you. Eddie’s eyebrows knit together and he averts his gaze. He wants to kick himself to the moon. Rather, into another galaxy.

Erika giggles at his malfunction but slaps her hand over her own mouth when you shoot her a shot-across-the-bow look. She knows that signal, so she respects your silent order. You watch as she gets in line at the food stall just out of earshot.

You turn back to face Eddie and flash him the most precious grin he’s ever seen. The gentleness of your expression submerges him in heat, juxtaposing the bitter wind that rolled in with the newly darkened sky.

His cuticles have been picked raw, nearly to the point of drawing blood. Eddie is too humiliated to speak, worrying that he might say anything else that would make him look more foolish than he already does. He considers walking away to save face, but before he can, he hears your voice. Eddie swears he can feel the soundwaves blend with the adrenaline surging through his veins.

You blink slowly, subconsciously trying to appear less intimidating. “Go ahead, give it another shot.”

Eddie chuckles at himself and shakes his head, abandoning the pick-up line method altogether. He keeps his gaze down, certain that if he looks into your eyes for too long, he’ll faint. Nevertheless, he needs to see them again. His eyes travel your figure before meeting yours. He’s only moments away from saying “sayonara” and toppling over. The reflection in your eyes swirls with a spectrum of colors from the illuminated rides that surround the two of you.

Words are spilling out of his mouth before he’s had a chance to think about what he’s even saying. Unable to hear his own sputtering, he hopes to god that he’s forming coherent sentences. “I’m sorry, that was um… yeah. Uh- I’m Ed. I mean, Eddie. Edwar-”

“Hi, Eddie.” you smile, halting his rambling to take some of the pressure off. His evident nervousness is genuinely flattering. It occurs to you how misleading Eddie’s appearance is. The leather jacket and black jeans make him look intimidating. Though, in disposition, he’s as kindhearted as they come.

The tension inside his head dissolves, your voice alleviating the pounding. Eddie is so used to girls being offended by his mere presence, let alone failing to use a simple pick-up line on them. He can’t believe you’re giving him a chance to redeem himself. With new-found courage, he closes the gap between you, without considering if he can handle it.

You smile at his apparent boost in confidence, admiring his nose and lips with his closer proximity.

Air bubbles up in his throat as he speaks. “I saw you, from over there-” Eddie points behind him at the table of his buddies who have been on the edge of their seats watching this entire interaction. They scramble to play it off like they aren’t busted. “-with my friends and I think you’re so... beautiful.” Well, there it is. He’s put himself out there and in a matter of seconds, he’ll either be elated or devastated.

This time, you’re the one to break eye contact. To hide your smile, you use your closed hand to cover your mouth with your sleeve, shaking your head in inadvertent disagreement.

Eddie’s heart melts like milk chocolate on a s’more as he witnesses the effect that sweet talk has on you. If flattery is what gets you to smile like that then consider him good for it. “So insanely beautiful. They think so too.” He chuckles airily, peeking back once more at his friends who continue to watch from afar. The narcissist in Eddie hopes that they think he’s “the man” for being able to make you squirm.

Minutes slip away as the two of you stroll side by side around the fairgrounds. Occasionally, your hands brush against each other. Eddie is dying to hold your hand but he’s terrified of being too forward as if he hadn’t been when he walked up to you. Instead, he cracks little jokes here and there to figure out your sense of humor. It’s not long before you’re knee-deep in banter, leaving each other in stitches from laughter.

Eddie fervently talks about Hellfire and his band. He doesn’t typically offer up details of his personal life with strangers. But because you’re being fueled by each other's exuberance, he forgets to keep his walls up. Right now, he’s an open book, pages blowing freely in the breeze.

You adore how animated he is as he talks about his guitar, eyeing how his fingers flex while he imitates playing cords on an air guitar. His eyes twinkle when he smiles at you, lost in enthusing about the first time he accomplished learning a song by ear.

Eddie can’t believe you haven’t told him to shut up yet, he just can’t seem to stop talking. There’s comfort in the way you listen intently to his babbling. It feels like he’s waltzing through a daydream because of how unusual it is for someone to understand him, much less show no malevolence toward him for his hobbies.

When there’s a brief pause in his monologue, you smile and mumble, “What a cute teddy bear,” as you walk past a game booth that has stuffed animals strung along the perimeters of the brightly lit hut.

Your focus abruptly switches to Erika, who strolls up to the two of you. “Gotta borrow her for a second,” she winks before whisking you away by the bend in your arm.

Although Eddie doesn’t know how much time he has, he intends on winning you that bear. He saunters over to the stand and greets the attendant who challenges him to try his hand at winning a prize. The tower-stacked milk bottles taunt Eddie as he takes one of the dirtied baseballs in his fist.

His first throw is embarrassingly lousy. Eddie groans loudly, forfeiting the hope that this is going to be easy. It would be one thing if the bottles were glued together to keep him from succeeding, but it wouldn’t make a difference when he can’t manage to hit them in the first place. If his father had taught him to play catch, rather than how to hotwire cars, this would be a piece of cake.

Gareth, Mike, and Dustin sneak up behind Eddie, startling him. "Jesus! Fucking.. Christ.” He exhales with the slump of his shoulders and his chest subtly heaving.

Dustin chirps while sipping on apple cider. “Where’s your girlfriend? Did you scare her away already?”

“She’s not my- ugh. I really wanna win her that bear but I’m not very good at this.” He admits with pronounced defeat.

Sympathy isn’t Mike’s strong suit, but he attempts to ease Eddie's frustration. “These games are rigged anyway.” Dustin and Gareth nod in agreement.

After repeated attempts, Eddie has burned through more cash than the bear is worth. There’s a tap on Eddie’s shoulder just as he turns to walk away. The attendant gives him a look of compassion and plucks the teddy bear from its hook. He holds it out to Eddie, giving him a muted nod.

“Thanks, man!” Eddie beams and accepts the stuffed animal, feeling the soft faux fur against his frigid palms.

Seeing that you’re heading back in their direction, Eddie hides the teddy bear behind his back. With a wave of his hand, he shoos his pals and they do as they’re told.

Once you’re face to face with Eddie, you smile weakly and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Heyyyy, sorry about that.”

Eddie grins warmly. “It’s okay, no worries. Uh- this is for you.” The plushie is revealed from behind his back.

With wide eyes, you gasp. “Oh my god! You won this for me?” You take the teddy bear into your arms and hug it tightly to your chest, nuzzling your face against it.

“Yeah- I guess I did.” Eyes sparkling with fulfillment, Eddie grins pridefully. He feels like he could run a marathon right now with the way that your sheer delight is revving him up.

You throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly. Eddie chuckles, his hands resting on your waist as if you’ve hugged a hundred times before.

As you bury your head into his shoulder, his frizzy curls tickle your face. You bask in his natural scent along with the smell of leather and cheap cigarettes. The fact that he went out of his way for you is arguably one of the most exhilarating feelings you’ve ever experienced. You pull away and step back to regain your composure. It’s difficult to keep yourself from worrying that your reaction was too much. “Thank you.” You hum, stroking the fur of the teddy bear.

Eddie is still buzzing from your unexpected expression of appreciation, despite the briefness. The feeling of your body pressed up against his is something he, without a shadow of a doubt, needs more of.

He wrings his hands, spinning the skull ring around the base of his finger. “So, uh. Could I maybe, get your number?”

You smile so cheerfully that your cheeks ache. “Got a pen?”

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

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venus-of-the-hrdsell · 1 year

Note

I want to get into Zatanna comics but I’m not sure where to start. What series do you recommend?

Hello! Don't worry, I can give you a short starting guide + some recommendations on this post so you can read without having to dive fully into thousands of issues (unless you want a detailed guide of more appearances).

The usual go to for any beginner is Zatanna (2010) by Paul Dini. It's her longest solo comic (16 issues) and it fits as a stand alone.

If you are interested, I'm currently working in a masterlist reading guide of her appearances. Zatanna is a very old character, so a lot of her appearances are scattered as cameo and team books, so often finding what to read is hard. If you want to get a little further into her character, these options I'm about to mention are good as well. More under the cut because this is a long post.

- Secret Origins (1988) (volume 2) #27

Offers a summary about of Zatanna's origin in the DC universe. A bit old, so the scans can be blurry, but still a nice read.

- Zatanna Special (1987) by Gerry Conway & Gray Morrow

Zatanna gets contacted by the ghost of her mother Sindella, which leads her to travel to secret city of the Homo Magi with her manager. A lot of details about her background are revealed her, it's one of my favourite comics for her.

Zatanna: Come Together (1993) by Lee Mars & Esteban Maroto

Four issue mini in which Zatanna tries to get a fresh new start in San Francisco, temporally retiring from her superhero career. Unfortunately, she doesn't expect to find her stay disrupted by a supernatural threat infesting the city. Still one of my favourite comics of her and the art is amazing too. It also explores her background from her mother's side of the family, which is always good and underrated.

Zatanna: Everyday Magic (2003) by Paul Dini & Rick Mays (one shot)

We see Zatanna in her best moment as a famous stage magician in a long tour. She seems to be doing great, but she still fights to have an ordinary personal life. Things get complicated when her former partner, John Constantine, shows up on her life once again.

This is a fun story! It's Zatanna only Vertigo solo book. There are some poorly aged jokes and the art is not everyone's cup of tea, but it's a fun light hearted read for everyone.

Zatanna: Seven Soldiers (2007) by Grant Morrison & Ryan Sook

Zatanna attends a superhero support group. Her powers are weak and she finds herself in a low spot in her life, but the arrival of a mysterious girl pushes her to go on a tripe to find her father's missing journals.

This mini series is part of a bigger event written by Morrison called Seven Soldiers of Victory, but it can be read as a stand alone. If you want further context, I recommend reading the event, though.

I really like this comic, though. I wish we got to see more of Zatanna's mentorship role.

Black Canary & Zatanna: Bloodspell (2015) by Paul Dini & Joe Quinones.

A fun team up comic! It's an original graphic novel. I love Zee and Dinah's friendship.

Wonder Woman: Agent of Peace (2020) #15

A fun team up issue with Diana and Zee spending quality time together.

Justice League Dark (2011) (New52) & Justice League Dark (2018) (Rebirth)

Now, to clarify. I don't necessarily recommend the Justice League Dark books, but I'm incluiding them since most of Zee post new 52 appearances are in these two books which are...a mixed bag. Justice League Dark (new 52) wasn't of my liking with the exception of the last third of the whole book (Dematteis did a good job, probably the best out of the three writers heading the book). Earlier writers didn't know how to handle Zatanna, her personality is very watered down just as well as her abilities, and she isn't really given spotlight, leadership and full potential of her abilities until Dematteis takes the pen. I also don't enjoy how off was the characterisation of other characters of the book and the overall writing quality and pace, but that's a story for another post.

Justice League Dark (Rebirth) is a step up in quality from New52, but unfortunately it continues with the weird personality shift in Zatanna's personality and the a lackuster character design. As much as I love Diana, who is part of this team line up, I think Zatanna should have been given the leader role and the spotlight. Out of this book, I sincerely enjoyed Ram V's stage on the later half on this run, who deserved to stay longer on this title.

That said, you can take a look on these titles, but you know, at least you know what to expect.

Bonus: Graphic novels, webtoons and stand alone stories

DC's new talent showcase (2018)

Truth and Justice (2020) #7 - 9

Zatannna & the Ripper (Available for Free in Webtoon, still ongoing)

Zatannna & House of Secrets (Kids graphic novel)

Batman: Urban Legends (#11-16)

Johnny Constantine & Mystery of the Meanest Teacher (she's a co protagonist here)

#long post #zatanna zatara #zatanna #reading guide #answered #dc comics #i hope this helps! it took me a while but i think this makes sense #okay to reblog btw

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cuntylestat · 1 year

Note

heyy do you have a loustat fic rec list? would you mind sharing some faves?

yes of course! i haven't delved deeply into everything so i'm sure there's more out there, but i really like these. they're a mix of show fic (starred) and book fic.

begin again In which Louis and Lestat clobber each other with their respective baggage, argue in various locales, and make their own happy ending.

and back to the river* Fucking hell, Louis thinks.

the long way home Louis has a secret, something he’s never told anyone since childhood. Lestat has just moved into Pointe du Lac when Louis receives a mysterious letter. And now he’s on the brink of losing it all. Set after Louis’ turning when he and Lestat are living at Pointe du Lac, canon divergent.

go fetch god* He falls in love with a man. He loved the man because he answered a prayer Louis had been sketching in the dark, on his knees, hands down his pants that he couldn’t look at for fear of loving. Dying too, but mostly loving. They don’t go calling love fool’s gold for nothing. The very apple of Eden had a sheen to it.

objects of devotion 1999. After months on the run from the Talamasca, Louis just wants to spend Christmas in New Orleans with Lestat. Will either of them ever manage to say what they actually mean? Featuring religious imagery and a trip to Montgomery Ward.

tinderbox (or: a history of fire in colonial new orleans) [wip] 1794. Pointe du Lac lies in ashes. Lestat, desperate to keep Louis with him at any cost, tries something he's never tried before: he talks.

the devil's in the details Claudia is never turned into a vampire. Instead, Lestat and Louis end up raising a human child. A study on age and family life.

the souvenir 1908. Louis and Armand are traveling through Europe. Louis seduces a young man who reminds him of Lestat.

fear death by water (what the thunder said)* Louis puts down the knife. Claudia leaves the nest. Lestat endures.

dress up Seven scenes across canon. Costumes: what they hide and what they don't.

all our yesterdays New Orleans, 1985. Lestat, struggling with change, comes home to Louis and an unexpected gift.

the house of atreus [wip] In the summer of 1860, Claudia raises her knife to kill Lestat. This time, Louis makes a different choice.

reading between the lines “Yes?” Lestat interrupts, savoring the noise of frustration Louis lets out. “Would you have me promise to spend eternity by your side? Is that what you want?” Louis looks away sharply, but Lestat won’t have that—he grabs Louis’s jaw and turns his face, dragging those pretty eyes back to meet Lestat’s gaze. “Is it a horrible thing to want?” Louis whispers. “Don’t you want it?”

there's vertigo in my soul at your name* Louis, in all his self loathing, convinces himself that the bite never happened. It's all a nightmare but the real nightmare is the life he wakes to and just how much he hates himself. AU from season 1 episode 1, when Louis and Miss Lily leave Lestat's home.

these devils of yours, they need love too* “Kill her,” Louis demands as his furious eyes burn into Lestat’s. He wants to melt those eyes and the look of them, to turn them into nothing but a memory to be forgotten. “Do it. Prove to me how much you love me, Lestat." Louis finally does what he's wanted to for years: He asks Lestat to kill Antoinette.

on brûlera toutes les deux en enfer, mon ange* In that exact moment Lestat's expression shifted. He stopped, narrowed eyes scanning Claudia's face, then running up and down her body. 'They dared…' Lestat's voice changed as well. Instead of the mocking tone from before it was cold with fury. So cold that Louis could actually feel the temperature in the room dropping. 'They dared to hurt what's mine.'

the visit* Lestat’s mother drops in for an unexpected visit to Rue Royale. This leads to all kinds of new emotions in the Du Lac-Lioncourt household. A coming of age tale from Claudia’s perspective featuring the one and only Gabrielle de Lioncourt.

retour à vous Although he’d overseen its restoration over the past few months, it still shocks him each time he sees the New Orleans apartment again. It truly looks like their old home — the environment of their happiest days together recreated with all of the modern comfort of the present era. What truly makes him stop in his tracks each time, however, is the feeling that for the first time since Claudia twisted the knife in his heart, this place they so long called home is free of ghosts. Besides, no lover of his will live in some rundown Garden District house overflowing with vines and insects. Lestat loves the Queen’s Wreath and bougainvillea as much as the next man, but he won’t have Louis continuing to dwell in that dark little place. No, it’s time that they had a home again. A home together.

parce que c'était lui, parce que c'était moi* “So,” Daniel says, huffed on an exhale, and the book makes a telltale thump as it's placed on the nearby coffee table. “You finished burning the body. Then what?” Then what? Then we left, he wants to say. We took our bags and we walked out of that courtyard and we boarded the train and then the steam liner. We left that city, that life, behind to seek freedom and answers across the Atlantic. We didn’t look back, he wants to say. He does not say it.

i clutched your arms like stairway railings, and you clutched my brain and eased my ailing* Lestat and Louis in December 2022, working through their many problems one day at a time, while trying to enjoy life, and love, together.

#fic recs

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 11 months

Photo

Rebecca Ferguson: “ On Top with Tom”

Tom Cruise is famous for finding his female leads always himself. How is happened with you?

Exactly like that. Tom and Christopher had watched hundred thousand casting tapes and then asked several actresses for the next round, me among them. And when I met with Tom we lost ourselves in conversation immediately. We talked about everything - the film, our roles and life itself *laughs*. Somewhere Christopher said: “Maybe we can start with audition?” and Tom said, “it’s ok, she got the part!”

Were you a bit intimidated to be filming with the world famous start Tom Cruise?

You know, I live in a small village in Sweden where you learn not to judge people by their image *laughs* I love meeting people and I try to see everyone if possible without prejudice. And with that in mind I met Tom for the first time: the only thing I was afraid of is not getting the role. But as mentioned Tom and I understood each other right away. I really like him a lot, he is unexpected and he is honest.

Can you tell us a little bit about your character?

Ilsa Faust is a top agent, born in Sweden and recruited by the british secret service. When she meets Ethan they both understand that they are each other’s match (they are equals). But neither Ethan nor the audience know till the end who she is working for, she is quite mysterious.

And quite strong - did you have to train a lot before the shoot?

Yes, for months six hours a day six days a week. Everything was perfectly planned and organized: Pilates, weights lifting, fitness and of course martial arts. It was hard but important. For this kind of film you need enormous amount of strength and stamina, But I admire Tom who is almost always in training. He gets through his fitness program and he is also producer, actor, he is taking part in editing...I do 1% a day from what he is doing and fall in bed dead tired! But I also enjoyed training a lot. I like moving. And I could really test my limits and have learned things that I never thought I was capable of doing.

For example?

I've learned to hold my breath [under water] for 4 and a half minutes. I had severe vertigo before this film and had to film a scene where we jump from 35 meters high. I mean before that I haven't even stepped foot in the elevator *laughs* There was my phenomenal stunt double Lucy Cork, but you know, Tom does all his stunts himself - I was really disappointed if I couldn't keep up. And now when I watch the scenes, I think: “Wow, I actually did it!”.

What else did the trainings program give you?

I was feeling super. To build muscle strength we had a to keep a strict diet, we were given instruction what and when to eat. So everyday I had a thought through nutrition program that was tailored to my training with the best scientific nutrition knowledge. And it really worked - never in my life have I been feeling so well physically.

Translated from German by @edwardslovelyelizabeth for @rebeccalouisaferguson. For the scans special thanks to @kiwirazzi on Twitter.

#rebecca ferguson #tom cruise #mission impossible rogue nation #mi5 #interview #mi5 interview #photoshoot #charlie gray shoot

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bellysoupset · 9 months

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I just reread your fic were Jonah had a vertigo episode and Vince told him he was dating Wendy.

I just love Jonah and his friendships with both Vince and Wendy so much.

So I'd like to request Jonah taking care of either Vince or Wendy.

!!! This ask made all my braincells dance, I never got a request for Jonah x Vince's brotp, so I just had to rush and write it. Someone else asked for concussed Vin so... The best of both worlds. This is a part 1

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Jonah drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, trying to quell the anxiety and annoyance inside of him. He still wasn't quite convinced this wasn't a prank.

Concern stirred in his chest and Jonah pressed the gas pedal a little harder. He'd be furious, but he'd rather this was a prank, actually.

It wasn't rare for Vince to text him. Their conversation was mostly unilateral, with Vin bombarding his instagram DMs with memes, messages that Jonah rarely reacted to aside from one snippy line here and there, but that he treasured a lot. When Vince went radio silent in their non reciprocal chat, Jonah worried.

It was, however, very unusual for Vince to call him. When they went on double or triple dates, it was Wendy doing the calling, never Vin.

So Jonah had been dumbfounded when his phone had rang in the middle of the day, Vince's name displayed across the screen.

He glanced at the map on his GPS, then scanned the deserted road, as if he'd see Vince- As soon as he turned the next exit, Jonah's stomach dropped to his feet.

Sadly it hadn't been a prank.

There was a tree fallen on one side of the deserted, middle of nowhere road, tire marks on the wet tarmac and then Vince, sitting on the curb, with his motorcycle fallen a couple feet away from him.

Jonah parked the car hastily, jumping out and power walking to his friend, "What the hell happened?"

Vince looked up from the ground, squinting at him, "uhm- Car, lost control-" he was slurring, gesturing to the site of the accident, "hit me straight on."

"Where is the bloody car right now?" Jonah seethed, crouching down to get a good look at Vince's face. He wasn't wearing the helmet anymore, it was on the ground near his boots. His face was milky white, a hard frown in the middle of his brows making Vince look quite intimidating.

"Drove off..." Vin rubbed his neck, then met his eyes and Jonah's anger all but doubled. Some jerk had hit his friend and simply driven off? "I'm sorry... I-"

"Shut up," Jonah rolled his eyes, leaning in to plant his fingers on Vince's vitals, "how hurt are you?"

"Not sure," Vin mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as Jonah explored his neck in search of bruises, personal space be damned, "my side hurts."

"Lean back, lift up your shirt," Jonah bossed and expected a cheeky Vince-esque remark in return. An at-least-buy-me-dinner-first line or even I'm-telling-Leo. Instead he got sullen silence and obedience, which only made him all the more worried.

Vince gingerly unzipped his jacket, then attempted to pull up his shirt, but he didn't get very far. His grip on the fabric was weak and his arm didn't seem to be cooperating. Jonah mentally made a note to check his shoulders, then slapped Vince's hand away and pushed the shirt up.

There was a nasty cut, covering all of Vince's left side, starting a couple inches under his armpit and going all the way near his belly button, surrounded by scrapes and scratches. It wasn't deep, otherwise he'd probably be bleeding out, but it was ugly nonetheless. The blood had already clotted over.

"Shit, Vince," Jonah frowned, leaning in to inspect the wound, "I think this need stitches..."

"Uhm, are you sure?" Vince blinked heavily, "can't you just- I don't know, band-aid it?"

Jonah stared at him, unimpressed, "You're a piece of work," he scoffed, then pushed the shirt back down, "what else hurts?"

"My foot," Vince gestured his left foot, "I think I broke it."

"And you didn't start by saying that?!" Jonah raised his eyebrows, sitting back on his heels to undo Vince's boot and carefully remove it. His foot was swollen alright and purple around the ankle, but once Jonah poked him on the sole, the toes all curled in reflex, "I don't think it's broken, but you definitely need an x-ray to check for hairline fractures or any torn ligaments- In fact, I think you need a whole body check up, Vin."

"I'm fine," Vince groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He had scratches all over his chin, dried blood where his eyebrow had split open, "I just wanna go home. Can you drive me home?"

Absolutely not, Jonah thought, but instead he nodded, "sure, I'll drive you home," he lied with an eyeroll, barely keeping the sarcasm from his voice, "you didn't happen to get the asshole's car plate, did you?"

"Nope," Vince seemed completely drained, "can you not tell Wendy? At least until later."

Wendy was in NYC, visiting her family, so Jonah shrugged. He wouldn't be talking with her until tomorrow, "okay... Put your arm around my neck, c'mon."

Between the wounded foot, the nasty gash on his side, the probably dislocated shoulder and the fact that Vince was fucking 6'4, it was a hassle to get him up and limping to the car.

Jonah was sweating and panting by the time he got Vince sitting down again. This would've been easier if Luke was here... Jon pushed the thought aside almost with a scowl. He hadn't called Lucas and he figured there was a reason why Vince had called him instead of his siamese twin.

"Jon," Vince leaned his head heavily against the inside of the car, near the door, "can we go?"

"Hold on a second, let me just get some pictures of your bike," Jonah squeezed his shoulder, "hang in there, don't fall off the car."

Vince's bike was in a surprisingly decent shape. The were some parts from the front scattered around the ground and the front tire had been slashed open- Jonah shuddered as he pictured just how the bike had gotten that way, Vince being catapulted out of it. He snapped a couple pictures, jolting down the license plate and then rushed back to the car.

"Be honest with me, were you speeding?" Jonah asked, as he put the seatbelt around Vince, wincing in sympathy as he felt his friend recoil when the wrap hit his wounded side.

"No," Vin leaned his head back, breathing through his mouth, "no... Raining..." he mumbled, as if that explained everything.

"Okay..." Jonah started the car, glancing nervously at the man lying right next to him, "hey, don't pass out," he poked Vince's thigh five minutes later, as he noticed him sliding down the seat, "I need you to stay awake, you could be concussed."

"Not concussed," Vince groaned, sitting up straight once again, "just in pain."

"Where?" It was a dumb question and Vince could say everywhere and it'd probably count as an accurate answer, but Jonah wanted him to keep talking. For once he missed the incessant chatting.

"Side," he answered quietly, "fuck, my bike..."

"I'm gonna call someone to tow it, it's okay," Jonah rolled his eyes, starting the windshield wiper as the rain started back up. He noticed Vince's teeth chattering, "are you cold?"

"Uhm..." Vin nodded, then leaned forward, resting his forehead on the dashboard, one hand resting on his stomach, "don't feel well, Jon..."

"Not concussed, uh?" Jon scoffed, already pulling the car to the side of the road. He reached over Vince when the man didn't move and unlocked the door, undoing his seatbelt, "c'mon, Vin, don't be an ass, puke out of the car."

Vince obeyed silently, making Jonah feel just a touch more concerned. He hated that his bantering wasn't getting an answer, it was widely out of character.

Vin hung his torso out of the car, bracing heavily against the door and let out a weak heave, followed by a pained gasp, "hurtssss..."

Frowning, Jonah planted a hand on his shoulder to keep Vince from falling off the car and then moved the other one down his spine. His leather jacket had been slashed clean through, something he hadn't noticed before. Vince heaved again, a delicate gagging that was so unlike him, followed by a whimper. Jonah drummed his fingers gently over his wounded side and then pulled his hand back as he met a weird poking under the skin.

"Goddamit, Vince, I think you have a broken rib," that would explain why he was struggling to even vomit without crying from pain.

There was a noise from his friend, followed by yet another retch and then Vince was choking on the liquid, vomit rushing out of his mouth and splashing on the road.

Jonah's stomach churned with sympathy and he squeezed his hand on Vince's shoulder, turning his face away and trying to tune the awful noise out.

Vince heaved again, whole body convulsing with the pain, and Jonah ducked his head, not bothering to muffle his own wet belch. He could taste his lunch all over again.

"Sssorry..." Vince groaned, from his right, before coughing once again and heaving loudly, the noise much louder now. Jonah heard, distinctively, as he emptied out the last of his stomach contents and was reduced to a mess of dry heaves and sobs from the pain.

He straightened up, sniffling and wiping the tears from his cheek, "sorry, Jon-"

Jonah ignored him, flinging his own door opened and bracing against it as he belched again, his lunch threatening to leap to his throat. He swallowed convulsively, gagged and then thumped his chest to dislodge one sick burp, spitting all the thick saliva on the road under. Stomach more or less settled, Jonah straightened up, daring to look at Vince.

He felt beyond humiliated. It was such a pathetic display, to be unable to help his loved ones when they got sick because his own stomach was too weak, "I'm sorry," he grumbled, voice rough and thick.

"I'm so-"

"You look awful," Jonah interrupted, choosing to do this instead of telling him to shut the fuck up and stop apologizing for daring to be sick with a probable concussion, "Vin, I'm taking you to the hospital."

Vince frowned, shaking his head, "I'm fine, really-"

"You have a broken rib, for sure. A sprained ankle at best. That wound is gonna need at least 50 stitches. I'm pretty sure you're concussed and fuck - who knows what else," Jonah glared at him, enumerating the injuries on his fingers, "I'm driving you to the hospital."

"It's gonna cost my right arm and for what? For broken ribs they only tell you to rest and take painkillers. I'm not concussed, I know how a concussion feels like. My foot they'll also just tell me to not walk around and let it heal. I don't need stitches, I'm not even bleeding anymore," Vince said, sounding annoyed and glaring at Jonah, "I thought you wouldn't make a fuss."

Jonah's glare took a steely turn, as he realized Vince had called him specifically because Lucas would've been frantic and probably called an ambulance. It was insulting, "Fuck you," Jonah scoffed, "Did you think I'd find you all mangled and just be like here, I'll drive you to the dorms so you can have internal hemorrhage in the middle of the night? Just because I'm not Lucas? Go fuck yourself Vince," Jonah spat out, slamming his own door shut and starting the car back again.

A heavy silence fell upon them. Jonah stubbornly ignored it, seething with anger. From the corner of his eye he could see Vince looking away from him, a pained frown on, the closest he could get to pouting in this much pain.

It went on for good fifteen minutes, until Vince broke it by mumbling a small, rough "I'm sorry. That was stupid of me."

"Uhm," was all Jonah answered, still just as furious.

He squeezed the steering wheel between his fingers, with much more force than necessary, and rolled his shoulders. The ugliest part of him wanted to yell at Vince a little bit more, bitterness coating the inside of his mouth.

"Jon," Vince interrupted his spiraling angry thoughts and Jonah pointedly ignored him.

"Jonah," Vince said a bit more strongly and Jon sighed, looking away from the road.

"What? If you'll try to get me to not dri-"

"Pull over," Vince groaned, a hand clasped tightly over his mouth, "now, Jon."

Jonah cursed under his breath, they were no longer in an empty road, but close to the hospital and it wasn't as easy to pull over so soon, "hold on, hold on-" he chanted, signaling the need to stop and scanning the crowded street for a spot.

Next to him, Vince let out a gag, hunching over further.

A car pulled out in front of a store and Jonah rushed to take it's spot. It was a tight fit, but-

Vince gagged again and then Jon heard a whine as liquid splashed on his hand and lap, "fuck-"

Jon pressed his eyes closed, the car coming to a swift stop, but clearly he was too late. He breathed in deeply, forcing himself to be on check as he turned to his friend, to assess the mess... "fuck, Vince."

Vince hadn't quite made a mess, because he hadn't puked actual vomit. Instead there was bright blood in his hand.

"I... This can't be good, right?" Vince's voice was shaking and Jonah shook his head no.

"No, it's not," he agreed, noticing Vince's eyes the size of platters, clearly mortified, "c'mon, let's get you checked up."

Jonah couldn't remember if he had ever seen Vince be scared before. Even when he had been severely dehydrated, almost a year ago he had been more annoyed and out of it than scared.

Now he was very awake and aware of everything, much to Jon's dismay. He couldn't help his own sympathetic wince as Vince got transferred from his car to the emergency bed, the paramedics grumbling about Jonah driving him there in the first place instead of calling an ambulance.

He busied himself with getting Vince's bike picked up and then sat on the waiting room, hating to be on the opposite side of the hospital experience for once.

His phone buzzed and Jonah glanced at it nervously, half expecting it to be Wendy miraculously knowing the hell had happened. Instead it was Leo.

Leo: I thought you said you had the day off today? Court ended early and you're not here 🥺

Jonah breathed out, ignoring the prickles of anxiety running up his arm and typed back "I'm at the hospital. Vin got in a car accident."

He saw Leo type and retype, the little bubble appearing and disappearing multiple times, before the screen suddenly changed into the call mode.

"Hey-"

"What happened? How is he!?" Leo's voice was up a whole note, "how did you-"

"He called me, I think two hours ago? He seemed a little in shock, but overall very aware. Sent me his location and everything," Jonah answered, sliding down the seat and staring at the ceiling, "I think the rain caused him or someone to lose control, but either way, they hit his bike head on and then ran."

"What the fuck-"

"He's in x-ray right now. For sure at least one rib is broken, maybe his left foot too. Something is up with his shoulder, I couldn't quite see... Oh yeah and there's this big fucking wound on his side. He's gonna get stitched up after the x-ray and MRI."

"MRI?" Leo said and Jonah could hear him moving around, "did he hit his head?"

"He says he didn't, but he flew off his bike, so," Jonah rolled his eyes, "the idiot didn't want to come to the hospital."

"Sounds like Vince alright," Leo let out a weak chuckle, "you're bringing him here, right?"

Jonah hesitated, thinking back on the fact he had told Vince to go fuck himself, "uh-"

"He can't stay alone in the dorms," Leo cut in, "Wendy's out of town and he called you. You're bringing him here, even if you have to drag him."

"Yes, sir," Jonah teased lightly, opening a smile, "...Don't tell Luke? Or Wendy?"

"I don't talk with Wendy," Leo pointed out with a huff, "...Do you need anything? A coat? Food?"

"What...?" Jonah frowned, "no, you don't have to come over. We're fine, he'll probably be out in an hour or two, unless they want him to spend the night in case of a concussion."

"Vince would rather die," Leo pointed out with a little snicker, "... Are you okay? You sound shaken up."

"I'm fine..." Jonah mumbled, "just worried."

"Aw, he cares," Leo teased lightly, "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Jon let out a smile, but Leo's teasing had only made him feel worse. He nodded, before remembering his boyfriend couldn't see him, "yeah, of course he will," he agreed, "I gotta go. I'll text you later. Love you."

"Love-" Jonah hung up before he heard the end of it, getting up from his seat and walking to the folding doors that lead to the closed part of the hospital, pacing around it anxiously.

It was another hour and a half before a girl he knew from class stepped out, "Vicent- Monacelli...?"

"Vicenzo," Jonah corrected, stepping forward, "hi Claire."

"Oh, hi Jonah," she smiled, "you're the one who brought him in?"

"Yeah... How is he?" he couldn't be bothered to hide the nervousness. He hadn't mentioned to Leo the coughing up blood, but that had been driving him insane with worry.

"He's fine," Claire tapped her clipboard with a pen, "giving the nurses a run for their money, he keeps trying to leave. Let's talk inside."

Vince hadn't been transferred to a private room, which Jonah counted as a sign he wouldn't need to stay the night. He was leaning back on a long armchair, with an IV connected to his arm, an angry frown on his face. His foot had been put in a boot cast, his shirt removed and his arm was now resting on a sling. A long bandage on his side, covered also by the bandages wrapping around his torso. A million butterfly bandages were scattered all over him.

"I thought you had left," Vince piped up, opening a lopsided smile, "can you tell the nice doctor I can go home?"

"No," Jonah rolled his eyes, looking at Claire, "doctor?"

"Alright, so let's start from the least worrying. You have a dislocated shoulder-"

"It happens all the time," Vince interjected, to which the doctor and Jonah ignored him.

"we've put it back in place and you're supposed to wear the sling and avoid moving your shoulder as much as possible for the next six weeks."

"That's crazy, six weeks?! Classes will start back up, it's my final season-"

"What else?" Jon pinched his nose bridge.

"Left foot is just twisted, but twisted badly. Three weeks of boot," she glared at Vince pointedly, "otherwise you will break it, then it'll be much longer. And you won't play your precious football game."

"It's a twisted ankle, please," Vince scoffed, "I've sported worse injuries during a game-"

"What about his ribs?" Jonah squeezed Vince's bicep to shut him up. Claire crisped her lips in annoyance and Jon almost laughed. Clearly Vince was not growing on the hospital staff.

"One broken rib, one cracked. Four weeks of bed rest and four more of little to no movement," she sighed, "I'm serious, Mr. Monacelli, if you don't rest, you'll end up breaking the one that is cracked and that one has a very bad angle to your lungs. Don't try your luck."

Vince grumbled something in italian, but nodded, wincing as he shifted on his seat, "she says I don't have a concussion, by the way."

Jonah scoffed, then looked at the blonde doctor before him, "really?"

"We ran all the scans, Jon, he's fine," Claire nodded and Jonah almost laughed as he could see she was holding back a mean comment, "Our best guess is the vomiting was due to the pain and shock."

"And the coughing up blood? His lungs are alright?"

"Yes. The blood was actually from a tear inside his mouth, he probably bit down when he hit the ground and the stomach acid irritated the wound," she opened a small smile, "as long as you rest and take the medication correctly, you should be fine, Mr. Monacelli."

"Alright," Vince nodded, then grabbed the IV pole to hoist himself up, "so I can go home?"

Claire mulled over the answer, looking conflicted. Jonah knew that technically, with those injuries, they couldn't hold him overnight, no matter how much it looked like Vince was just gonna ignore all doctor orders.

"He's coming with me," Jonah piped up, "I'll make sure he rests."

"The hell I am!" Vince whined, "I have my own dorm-"

"You're coming with me whether you want it or not," Jonah glared at him, "or you can stay the night here."

"They can't hold me here," Vince scoffed, then frowned and looked at the doctor, "you can't, right?"

Jonah grimaced and Claire clearly understood, because she shrugged, "if we think you're a danger to yourself, we can," she lied.

Vince's face fell and he sighed, sitting back down, "fine," he said, as if he had any choice on the matter. Jonah let out a relieved sigh.

Signing Vince out was easy enough, at least when compared to once again getting him to hop back to the car, since he vehemently refused using a wheelchair, much to everyone's displeasure.

"I don't think you realize you're a giant," Jonah panted as he pushed the passenger seat as far back as his sport car allowed and gave up on using the seatbelt.

"Uhm..." Vince let out a defeated sigh, leaning back against the leather seat, "I'm useless."

"You're hurt," Jonah reminded him with an eyeroll, "look... I- I'm sorry I yelled at you-"

"No," Vince sighed, "no, you were right... I was a jerk. Can we just go? Everything hurts."

"Your drugged, Vin," Jonah snorted, circling the car to get in the driver's side, "I doubt you can feel your face right now."

"I can and it hurts," Vince groaned, then closed his eyes as the movement started back up, "are you sure you don't mind me being at your place...? I can call-"

"If you say Lucas I'll leave you on the side of the road," Jonah slapped his friend's thigh, causing Vince to jerk and let out a whine.

"Fine, whatever," Vince smiled, eyes still closed, "...Told you I didn't have a concussion."

TBC

#narrator voice: and he was wrong <3 #mywriting #emeto fic #emetophilia #vince monacelli #concussion #sickfic

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