#no thoughts only dumb crossovers

[demethinkstoomuch]

How Would The Locked Tomb Cast Do At Survivor?

Yes, it is time for my highly-researched opinions about how my current hyperfixation’s cast would do at my favorite reality game show!

I went through big chunks of the cast and sorted them into groups by playstyle/likely outcome/role in the season.  A few characters are not easily sorted into a group, so they’re on their own. This mostly assumes the cast is isolated, though I may assume “someone like so and so” as options for tribemates; if I have a Blood vs Water thought, how they’d do with their loved one, I’ll bring it up. I will be ranking the groups on their likeliest boot orders, with a bit of wiggle-room, because after a certain point, that stops being super meaningful. I should have just done a Brant-Steele, I wouldn’t have to organize that.

Away we go under the cut!

...Survivor? That’s still on?

Let me give anyone unfamiliar with a 22-year old show a quick rundown: Game starts with everyone divided into usually 2-3 tribes of 6-10 people each. At this phase, immunity from tribal council earned in challenges is tribal, and the losing tribe goes to tribal council and they vote someone out. The tribes might swap players or change considerations, Survivor hates consistent formatting; somewhere in the 13-10-ish range, the tribes merge and immunity from the vote at tribal council becomes individual. People voted out join the Jury, who watch tribal council; at the end, the final 3 face the jury for Q&A or speeches, and the jury votes for the winner. You can get 1-use immunity from a vote by finding a hidden immunity idol. I am treating Final 4 as a point where no one meaningfully controls who goes home, because the current mechanic kind of works that way. I hate it, and am ignoring its existence.

Now, please note that Survivor is a very, very swing-y game. The things that win you the game one season might not in another, so there’s only some cases where I’m very sure how they would do, and some cases where I think there’s a range -- if you’re in theory capable of making it to the final 7 or so, and capable of doing it without screwing yourself out of victory, there might be a universe where you can win... or you could just miss your shot, who knows.

The Total Disasters (Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Silas, Judith, Mercymorn, Honesty, Crux, probably Pash, maybe Ortus  but maybe not)

Look, some people are not destined to win Survivor. That’s most people, honestly. But some people are very, very clearly destined to be voted out immediately. These are people who cannot disguise any part of themselves to get along, who cannot chill, who need to have things their way or the highway, who eschew social bonds in favor of their own machinations and standards. Survivor is a game of connection, and it’s a game of connecting to people who are nothing like you. You can see why everyone on this listing might be total, unmitigated disasters. 

Judith is the most likely person in the universe to force the entire tribe to just sit there in the shelter, we have no need for duplicity or sneaking off for private strategy talks, we will just eliminate the weakest link, It is very straightforward! No one likes that. It never goes well. 

Harrow and Honesty are both very likely to get in trouble for immediately scouting for idols -- and not being subtle enough about it. Harrow is at least reasonably likely to find one, though.  Honesty probably just applied when he heard about the time a cellophane-wrapped block of cocaine washed up on the beach during filming. It could happen again, on a different beach. Maybe production won’t take this one away. It could happen! Silas is most likely to interpret the immunity idol as a form of idolatry and be pissed about it. Both of these stories actually happened, though one never made it to the show.  (Also, no one would want to see Silas after he’s gotten dirty. It’d just be sad.)

For some reason, undefinable for me, Mercymorn feels like she’d last a round or two, she just has big “third boot” vibes. I think she can maybe be functional enough in her hate to stick around. Ortus can stay out of this group if he does not quote too much poetry, and is not too big a downer. Pash can if she does not get into too many fights.

Precious Cinnamon Role Too Good for this Game, Too Pure (Nona)

Nona lives in her own category. She probably would be a form of disaster, but a very different one.  Nona’s social skills honestly would preserve her from Harrow’s fate of immediate vote-out. That said, her inability to lie and her general softness would combine to make her a major problem as an ally: you could not tell her anything. She would be very uncomfortable about votes. I think she probably would not get very deep in before her unease at voting people out would make her too unreliable an ally to keep. I’m picturing Marquesas’ Gabriel Cade as I say this, and that was pre-merge. Cinnamon roll too good for this game, too pure.

On the other hand... I feel like there is an incredibly unlikely chance, if the stars align, that Nona could win. It would be a disaster season -- and probably very funny. This would require everyone else to be missing at least one of the following Survivor skills: Surviving to the End, Being Likeable, Removing Threats. Nona would have to be the only person whose two remaining skills are Being Likeable and Surviving to the End. If that happens, maybe everyone else would all self-destruct on each other while Nona has a fun adventure with all the blase innocence of a Cartoon Baby in a Cartoon Construction Site, and people like her more than the other members of the Final 3. This has happened before, so let’s call this Fabio upside.

Sit-Out Bench Gracers (Cytherea the First, Dulcinea Septimus)

These two have more or less identical early games, and only slight divergences in the late game. In the early game, they’re massively endangered due to, you know, being  dying. Their hopes are twofold: #1, That the rest of their tribe can pull their weight, and they can be queen of the Sit-Out Bench; #2, that their social games are enough to protect them on likeability and they can shift the targets over. If that happens -- if they make it through the early game -- then they have a good shot at a deep run. They’re both likeable and cut-throat, a good combo... But then, do you want to go up against the inspirationally dying girl? Do you? You don’t, right? You cut that. I think Cytherea has a better survival rating than Dulcie, because being underestimated is Cytherea’s biggest skill, I think.

But let’s say they make it to the end-game: then, Cytherea’s ability to be under-estimated becomes a detriment. You have to be able to sell your game. You have to be able to sell your game and be respected for it, and the person who gets in close with personal reliance and deep intimacy, and then slits your throat callously? The jury tends not to like that. That tends to piss them off. In that regard, Dulcie, who’s just more edgy and less likely to play it personal, has a better rate of winning. But these differences would play out only in the rather unlikely endgame. I’d rather see Dulcie, though; she’d give an amazing confessional. I get big Courtney Yates energy from her, a tiny skinny girl, 0 physical presence, but hell of a sass on her. (She’d probably be less mean than Courtney, but I’m just saying.)

Smart Mom and Mom-Adjacent People (Abigail Pent, Juno Zeta, Commander We Suffer, The Angel)

So, there’s some good long-term potential, very little win chance, and very, very good Early Boot chances here. This is where Mercymorn would fit if Mercymorn were capable of Chilling. Let’s get to explaining that mess of a set-up. There are two driving factors: We’re dealing primarily in this group with “older” (Survivor “old” runs from early 30s to anything else; the show skews young, on average) women or women-adjacent people who are very smart and not capable of disguising it. On average, they’re not very physically tough, which becomes a problem in the early game -- they just might not be enough in challenges early on. On the second level, being undisguisably smart and no-bullshit can become...A little bit threatening. A lot of smart older ladies smell the rats early -- and the rats freak out and take them out. Which is more or less what happened to Abigail Pent in canon, so that seems a likely fate for her in Survivor.

But lately, that type has done a lot better, which is fun and exciting, so let’s talk about the final danger: If they last to the end, people might not like it when “Mom” betrays them. They very well might undervalue her strategic chops if she stays in deep. Even if they did not come here to be “Mom,” they don’t want it, stop that. But how you are perceived in Survivor is more relevant to how the game plays out than who you are or what you do. Survivor is not a fair game, and the double wombo-combo of agism and sexism is ruthless. But man, when this type does really well, they are a delight: they can be chaotic, ruthless, canny, and just really gratifying to watch. We Suffer probably does the best on the grounds of not being a necromancer, and therefore, being physically the toughest -- she has the most Chaos Kass or Chrissy upside (both of whom were delightful, think that this trend is BULLHONKEY, and nevertheless failed to escape it.)

Slow Down, You Crazy Child (Isaac Tetteres)

Isaac is a funny one. He’s pretty OK, but I think the odds of him melting down in a paranoid and self-destructive spiral are very high. This could begin at any time, but ultimately means that when Isaac spots a big threat, or starts to feel like someone is coming for him, he will come at them so hard that it destroys anything he’s built. Which is a shame: he could build stuff. Observation is a valuable Survivor skill, and I think he’s not actively repellant, so he’d probably make some decent alliances early on. But if you act like everyone is out to get you, you’ll make people out to get to. And if you show your chops too early, you might just take out your target...And then get taken out yourself. This quality is one that makes him one of the types of players Nona needs a whole season of to win: he’d be one of that season’s better players, too. It’s just that the best that sort of disaster comedy season has is juuuust sharp enough to cut themselves.

There’s some sort of connecting thread between himself, Augustine, Naberius, and Ianthe, but their over-all outcomes become so different that it becomes hard to lump them together. But if I did, that type would be: Too Schemey. How good they are at the socializing, how likeable they can be, how concealing of their cunning, determines their fate.

The Meatshields (Gideon Nav, G1deon, Marta, Pro, Colum, Aiglamine if she’s not too old for it, Jeannemarie if she doesn’t get into too many fights, Ortus if he can get his act together.)

This is, of course, an enormous group. The basic thing prognosis is this: If you are physically strong, you will be valued in the early game, and viewed as possibly threatening as a challenge threat in the middle of the game around the top of the merge. Even though, basically, if what you’re primarily delivering on is raw strength, the challenges really stop being geared that way. Survivor individual challenges are a lot more endurance, balance, and puzzle-based. People will still target those they perceive as threatening...And most of the people in this group do not have the ability to avoid that, so they’d probably all go in the early to mid merge. This bundle are not strategically very dynamic, though some of them -- Gideon, I mean Gideon -- are at least socially engaging. But the rest of them, except Jeanne, really wish this was about surviving, and not about people. It’s not, though!

Gideon has the upside of being very likeable, but you have to be way more clued-in, and willing to use those clues, to fare really well. But she gives a FANTASTIC confessional, which makes her a delight to have. She’d get asked back, but Survivor still resents you skipping Leg Day. Her namesake, not so much -- but if Gideon Nav improbably makes it to the end, she could win. Her namesake, though...  if he’s lucky, someone picks him up as a loyal #2, and he gets voted out to weaken them or dragged to the end as a dead fish, setting his leader up for an easy win. 0% chance of winning. The rest would be loyal enough to be good allies, except Jeanne-Marie, who might be loyal, but could be a bit too much of a firecracker (though that makes her a good person to take to the end) ...But they’re all too honorable to wriggle out of trouble, and not strategic enough to take out bigger threats, so win odds are low.

The Godfathers (Commander Wake, Hot Sauce)

I think that they both operate on Having a Gang. If they have a Gang that they can be absolute ruler of -- and, given people, they will seek to become absolute ruler of -- and can dominate its comings and goings, it will become a thing of iron, and if it has the numerical superiority, they will march the Gang to the End and crush the other alliance/tribe/whatever. What if Boston Rob really, really hated necromancers? What if Boston Rob were a 14-year old girl?

Forced into a situation where her numbers are inferior or her tribemates resent the idea of being controlled, Wake has far and away the better odds compared to Hot Sauce, but she’s still more likely to go scorched earth and hopes to ride the chaos. Which...rarely works, honestly. I think Hot Sauce would have a harder time, being younger and all. They both have an incredible charisma and force of will which will hopefully get them their Gang, but Wake’s edges are harsher, while Hot Sauce is more withdrawn. Both are under considerable threat, playstyle-wise, of the whole premise of The Gang just not working with the cast around them. Like, most people don’t really like the idea that they are not allowed to have independent strategies in a strategy game. Their approach is more or less a high-risk, high-reward one. It fails at inflection points: the start of the game, the swaps, the merges, where they’re capable of being outnumbered or outgunned or overthrown. Wake probably has a better sense of who to take to the End Game than Hot Sauce, but that’s down to not being 14.

The Dads (Magnus Quinn, John Gaius)

These two technically have very different fates, but I thought their superficial approach would be alike enough. Both are reasonably physically competent mature men who are approachable, sociable, and not obvious about taking charge. They’re charming, reliable, and competent without being overwhelmingly so, which gives them good odds. But Magnus isn’t cutthroat, isn’t deceptive. This makes me think he’d go through the tribal stage, and he’d do well -- but when the time comes for his alliance to cannibalize itself, he won’t be long left, so he’s in The Zone, but loosely, 12-5 or so. Magnus is a great guy to have in your alliance, though, and a really great guy to have in your cast. He’d get an invite back and he’d do exactly the same, but we were expecting him to be delightful, not successful. He probably makes the DVD cover, so good for him!

John is deceptive, and he’s never as sentimental as he looks. His best-case scenario is that he activates his manipulation skills, plays innocent, finds someone worse to stand beside, and he is the coolest man on the ice. His worst-case scenario is that he makes a plan, over-reaches, and bungles it, perhaps melting down in a “who voted for me???!!” paranoid spiral, and does not understand why people do not want him to win. I’m not sure which I find more likely, but either could happen, and at just about any time. Winning is possible for John Gaius, unfortunately. 

The Grand Vizier Probably Eats Brunch (Augustine the First)

I think Augustine maybe could win. I think it’s not a sure bet, but sometimes, you just have to be just charming enough, just good enough at pretending you care, just clever enough, without being any of those things too much. I think Augustine is good enough at playing second fiddle who turns around and tries to murder you that it will serve him well. That’s a winning role in Survivor. I could also see him on the losing side of the post-merge dynamics -- in which case, he’d go somewhere in the 10-7 zone, but outside of that scenario, I think you can pencil Augustine in for any point between Final 8 and Victory, Inclusive. 

Too Dangerous To Live (Coronabeth Tridentarius, Palamedes Sextus, Camilla Hect)

All of these are people who I think could do very well at Survivor, except for the part where there is really no disguising how well they could do at Survivor. They will probably be valued members of their tribes and alliances, in the hub of things, making moves and doing great! Until everyone looks towards the end-game, and what do they see? This is the longest write-up, because each of them is a different picture of a great Survivor player in their field.

They see that Palamedes is crazy smart and has about 35 million scenarios for the endgame planned out. He can probably solve any puzzle put in front of him in, like, 3 seconds. He’s quite likeable most of the time, a good dude, and undeniably respectable as a strategic force in the game. He’d murder a final tribal speech.  He runs the slight risk of being the sort of high-strung nerd who goes home early, but I think he can avoid it. He’s less likely to avoid being a high-strung nerd who gets voted out late.  He’s a season’s fallen angel, the person who played brilliantly but fell short. Unless a miracle happened, but I think he’s in the Christian Hubicki slot; everyone’s gonna love this nerd, which is part of his problem. Some of the fandom will absolutely love him. They will be right, and not joyless reddit husks.  

They see that Camilla is, for all she’s a little quiet and anti-social, a formidable challenge beast. She can do everything a Survivor individual challenge is likely to expect of you: she could throw beanbags at things, she could walk on balance-beams, she could endure in weird postures, she can solve a puzzle at the end. And she’s got a very strong strategic sense and understanding of the game rules, fully capable of recognizing who the threats are and who’s working against her and so on. She can find idols like she’s pulling them out of a pocket. I think she’d be the worst of this bunch at selling her game at the end, and the worst at convincing people to not target her now, but there’s a chance it works for itself.

They’d see Coronabeth. Who is Coronabeth, and is almost, very nearly, the perfect Survivor player: endlessly charming, endlessly charming, percieved as fantastic by all who survey her. Every move gets credited to her, even the ones she had nothing to do with. But she probably has a lot to do with a lot of them, because she is also rather cunning in the way a social-strategy game like Survivor is concerned with. And she is physically capable enough to win some immunities. Coronabeth could win Survivor by just standing there.

And the entire rest of the cast would go, “Huh, that’s a problem for me, because I would like to win Survivor.  That is what Survivor is about, winning Survivor. And they could definitely stop literally all of us from winning Survivor.” And then the threat singularity would begin, and everyone’s mission would be to Get Out The Biggest Threat. Now, any of these people could go a few rounds on immunities or idols or stupid tribemates -- Corona gets the most out of stupid tribemates and the least out of idols because she’s less good at those -- but it’d be risky. They’d be sprinting through fire, scrambling from tribal council to tribal council like they’re walking on a tight-rope. Which makes a great show for the jury, which makes them more likely to win, which makes them more threatening, lather, rinse, repeat. The luck is, more likely than not, going to run out at some point. It will most likely run out somewhere between the final 7 and the Final 4, with 5 as a very likely point: last call before it’s too late to stop them, oh god, somebody, please stop them!

Funnily enough, I think a Blood Vs Water with Palamedes and Camilla dampens both of their chances, because they can’t protect them both. A Blood vs Water with a Redemption Island twist, where someone who can do well at challenges can come back, though... Then he and Camilla would absolutely wreck shop if she gets voted out early, hiding his threat level a bit, and then she wins her way back at the final hour, and then they are an Unstoppable Survivor Machine. Let’s call this the Paul Scenario.

Almost Perfect, Except For the Glaring Part Where She’s Ianthe (Ianthe Tridentarius)

Ianthe is almost a great Survivor player, if only she weren’t...Ianthe about it. She seems to be aware enough that you have to charm people to at least make an attempt. And she’s clever and cutthroat. But...Would it be enough to overcome... Ianthe? And, if so, then what? Could someone willingly vote for Ianthe to win a million dollars? Could someone Ianthe has backstabbed turn around and applaud her? I think Ianthe would gloat too much, honestly, and that would end up making people turn away from respecting her game. She is her own worst enemy. I think she makes it pretty far, though -- and either gets taken out for being too schemey, or she stays and is a 0 vote finalist... But maybe, just maybe, she’d have a shot.

Here is what her shot looks like: She needs a Coronabeth. She needs someone who is attention-drawing that she can pair up with and hide her threat level behind. Unlike actually playing with Coronabeth, though, she’d need to get that person to about the 5-6 remaining point and then take her out... after lining up a collection of saps who absolutely could not get more than a few anti-Ianthe votes, and those guys take her to the final 3. Like, say, Babs. Everyone hates voting for Ianthe, but they just can’t vote for those other guys, because in some way, they are worse. That’s what an Ianthe win looks like. Missing any of those elements means that Ianthe probably falls just short of a win.

Mr 0 Votes (Naberius Tern)

Oh, hey. It’s the guy Ianthe needs to take to the end. He is his own special sort of disaster: he’s the perfect goat, his own worst enemy. No one’s going to vote for Naberius to win. In general, he strikes me as the exact sort of player that could lead to a Nona win if there were enough of him in a season: he’s smart enough to know how to strategize, but not so smart and not so charming that he wouldn’t overplay, and not nearly subtle enough. He thinks he’s a strategic mastermind, he probably has a confessional or three about how he’s the one controlling this game. He isn’t. He could really go at any point in the game, honestly. If he goes early, it’s because he’s a slimy, whiny twerp who overplayed his hand and overestimated himself; if he goes at top of the merge, it’s because he’s a big physical threat. After that, though... He probably doesn’t go home in the 8-4 zone, not if anyone can help it. He’s the perfect losing finalist,  you want to take him to the end no matter who you are. Unless he’s not your sacrificial goat, or unless there’s no better targets vulnerable. Then he goes. No one’s sad about it.

THE WINNER, GENTLEFOLK! (Pyrrha Dve) 

Bow down before your new Survivor God. Pyrrha is really, really, really good at Survivor. She is probably the single best Survivor player of the cast, prove me wrong. A huge part of that is that she’s capable of lying low, in addition to being charming, a great liar, cut-throat, cunning, and physically capable. I think she is capable of taking a season of Survivor and ruling it in a way which is so low-key and so complete that she makes a really boring Survivor season, because she’d crush all the life out of it. They might want to take her out every week, but they can’t -- but next week! But no, not this week, either. And so on. Pyrrha’s said all these things, but really, she’s in with them, right? They need her. They can’t get rid of her now. And the chance slips away... Things could break badly for her, but she would need some bad luck to not charm her way, subtle and powerful, to the win.

#The Locked Tomb #TLT #Survivor #Stacking Obsessions #I'm not listing the entire cast in tags #I'm not a monster #Nona the Ninth Spoilers #I am in delight imagining the clown-car pile-up scenario required for a Nona win. It'd be hilarious. #I am not going to call Ianthe Russell Hantz but I thought about it #But I didn't want to be so insulting to Ianthe. #Meta #TLT Meta #The Mortifying Ordeal of Posting Your Dumb Crossover Concepts #Courtney Yates rather did look like a malign fairy #Camilla Hect on Redemption Island would be a delightful terrifying experience #Just looming in the background. #People getting on the DVD cover almost regardless of placement: Gideon/Magnus/Pyrrha/Anyone Too Dangerous To Live #People getting on the DVD cover if they do REMOTELY well: Ianthe/Dulcinea/John/Augustine/Any Smart Mom-Types/Nona/Any Godfather Type #Babs might get on the cover only as a losing finalist but only MIGHT. G1deon would not get one even as a losing finalist. #Harrow would at least like the food! #The None or the Plain White Rice Boiled in Water

[cowboybuckleys]

that OC ep felt like it was supposed to be more of a crossover with SVU than just a brief character swap and it’s honestly weird that it wasn’t one.

#law and order organized crime #law and order svu #is it cos they only wanna do them when it's all 3? #cos that's dumb #i dont think every ep needs to be a crossover #and i thought the episode was great #and im happy to see that they're continuing storylines past one episode #cos thats why i like it #but damn that was a missed opportunity if ive ever seen one

[buckttommy]

When buck and tommy end up on the same call, which is rare but it happens, they stay professional. But they have quiet moments were they pass each other and maybe give each other a squeez with their hand to reassure the other 'they are here and they will be safe'

YES. YES this is the thing i'm actually so sensitive about. like. i've thought about this before in great detail, just stay with me, because i think one of the ways they keep from worrying about each other when they're on shift is that, like, no matter the situation, they know they can have each other's back. like. when buck goes to work, tommy kisses him and murmurs against his lips, "i've got you by air" and. it started out as a joke is the thing, like. one day, only a couple weeks into their relationship, buck was complaining about going to work one morning because he didn't want to get out of bed and tommy made a joke about flying overhead and throwing down a ladder so he could escape and it just became their thing.

so when tommy had his moment of not wanting to go to work because buck was gorgeous and beautiful sprawled out in his sheets, buck made a joke about kidnapping him and throwing him in a white creeper van before he got to his job so he wouldn't have to fake call out sick and right before tommy left out, he was like "don't worry, i've got you by land" and they laughed and it was. it was supposed to be ridiculous, you know, and it still kind of is. like, it's fucking dumb. but at some point, it stopped being a joke and they started feeling a lot more like promises. promises that if anything went bad, tommy would be there overhead to make sure buck came home. and no, maybe buck can't fly a helicopter but it's a promise all the same that when tommy needs him, he'll be there. he'll go anywhere or do anything to bring him home safely.

and so. when they're responding to the same call, say, a multi-day wildfire similar to the crossover, there's this moment right before one of the choppers goes up where they make eye contact across this sea of first responders. and tommy looks up ("by air") and buck looks down ("by land") and it's their promise and everything is going to be okay and if not, they'll make it okay by doing everything they can to ensure that the last time they said goodbye is not the last time they said goobye, and i just kjffhkdfgjsfdslsjdkgj fuck okay let me stop before i lose it fr

#*takes a deep breath**screams* #tv: 911 #jack answers mail #bucktommy

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Chapter 1: Alternate Universe

Previous Chapter: Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Your unexpected arrival in Hawkins brings many questions for Eddie...but he knows better than to ask dumb questions.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Fluff, Love at First Sight?, Tiny Angst if you Squint, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events and characters, Lovesick Eddie, unbelievable pacing...just roll with it, Everything's Coming Up Munson

Note: Thanks to everyone who read the prologue.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

It seemed like everyone was there to say goodbye.

Your parents, Sam, Pat, Bonnie, all of your friends and their families. Everyone you know.

What a surprise.

You thought it was gonna be a quick morning getaway.

You'd already had dinner at Danny's last night with your parents and had seen countless faces—familiar and unfamiliar—who'd wished you well. This morning was just supposed to be about bags placed in the trunk, last minute hugs and tears from your mom, and then off you'd go.

You hadn't expected this.

Some little voice inside of you questioned why you hadn't; you'd known them all for practically your whole life.

5 years.

What...no...18 years.

Why wouldn't they want to be here as you embarked on your big journey away?

Sam gave a tearful speech. Your dad made some corny joke that only a dad could, one that had everyone in uproarious laughter--more laughter than people, it seemed--and then it was time to go.

You didn't have a real schedule, of course, you just wanted to make it to your destination with ample time. Nothing like driving into an unfamiliar town in the middle of the night only to find yourself in a heap of trouble.

Pat, ever observant, was the one to notice the anxiety etched on your face. He was as much your best friend as Sam was, maybe even more than she was; you'd known each other since Kindergarten, sat next to each other in the reading circle, of course he could tell you were itching to leave.

"Alright guys," he announced, clapping his hands twice the way a star quarterback would. "I'm sure she's ready to get away from all of us."

"Yeah," Sam let out a watery laugh. "You need to go so you can come back as soon as possible. Wink wink." She flashed her hand with the little diamond chip engagement ring that you helped Pat pick out, and then she collapsed against you in a hug.

"You go and you have the best time," she whispered in your ear. You nodded and buried your face in her hair. "I can't wait to hear all about it. Write letters home? Call? But don't worry about us, we'll all be safe here. Ok?"

"Yeah," you said breathlessly.

Then the next thing you knew, in the blink of an eye, you were in the driver's seat of your car, rolling towards the end of the block. You adjusted your rearview mirror and saw everyone you loved waving goodbye to you. You rolled down your window, and blew them a kiss and sent a wave; you'd miss them so much. You'd be back soon enough though; now it was time for you to just be free.

“Go back?” you quoted one Mr. Bilbo Baggins to yourself as you turned the corner and left everything you knew behind. “Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!”

This was it.

Eddie was dead.

That had to be the explanation.

Your car was one thing, and he could excuse it. He could convince himself it was anything else.

But you? His favorite character from his favorite television show. Someone who was absolutely, definitely fictional.

It was impossible.

"Hey!" you called out to the Mayfields with your voice, your your voice and not Rosemary Glass's voice. Your real voice. Yours.

Eddie pinched himself pretty unforgivingly—one last ditch effort to prove this was a dream—and winced.

Not dreaming. Definitely dead.

You quickly shut the door and crossed the distance towards Susan and Max.

"I'm sorry, it's late and it's cold; I've been driving all over and the road got icy, I must have lost traction. Need new tires maybe."

"Too bad," Susan snapped at you. "You hit my car, I'm calling the sheriff."

The two of you went back and forth for a second as you tried to get her not to call the cops and she stood her ground.

"I can pay for it!" You exclaimed suddenly and Susan froze in her spot. "And then some, for...I dunno, emotional distress I guess. I know it's late. I'm sure I woke you guys up. I'm just...I'm sorry."

You looked around self consciously all of a sudden, and Eddie could hear the faint murmur as you said something under your breath. He froze as your gaze slid over him, paused, and then kept going.

Play it cool, Munson. Don't pass out. Don't fuck this up.

It was hard when the love of his life was standing right there, in the flesh, and had just looked at him.

As Susan and Max met you in the middle of the yard to talk details, Eddie gave himself the pep talk of the century.

Even if he was dead and this was some sort of afterlife, surely the fates had certainly set this up for him. Some being of greater conscience than he--a mere human--could possibly comprehend was giving him this chance at...love? Happiness? It would be a good reward after an unremarkable end to a shitty life.

Or maybe he was still alive and had actually sold his soul to the devil back inside and this was the payoff.

"I'll fucking take it," he muttered to himself and fished another cigarette from the pack with shaky hands; he was gonna need it if he was gonna survive the night.

He watched the interaction between you and Susan with a keen eye, eager to witness the little gestures and mannerisms that he'd only seen on screen. Once it seemed Susan was happy with whatever deal you'd negotiated, you pulled a scrap of paper from the back pocket of your jeans and gesture vaguely around. Max was the one to snatch it from your hand and then point to a dark trailer that sat kitty corner from Granny's.

Were you gonna be his neighbor? This was just getting better and better.

"Thanks," you smiled and, even from this distance, Eddie's heart stopped.

If he was barely hanging on thanks to your presence, how was he gonna survive your smile? Especially if it was inevitably directed at him.

"Pull it together," he grumbled and took a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry flaring extra bright in the darkness of night.

The Mayfields retreated into their home and you shuffled back over to your car, feet kicking the gravel.

You were about to get back in when Eddie abruptly jumped to his feet.

"Hey!" He called out to you. "Uh...I...know my way around cars, I can take a look at it in the morning. I-if you want. Bang out any dents."

"Can you?" you scrunched your nose in the way that made his knees shake. God he was pathetic. "That'd be nice, thanks."

"Yeah no problem," he smiled the friendliest and most welcoming smile he could.

His thoughts raced at lightspeed now, a mixture of logic and hope. No matter the circumstance, you were here because of him, which meant that this was his shot. So, he would fix your car--or at least try to--figure out if you were some sort of demon or something, and then ask you out.

Easy.

And hopefully you'd say yes. Hopefully. Eddie was gonna be optimistic, but not an idiot. He had to stay humble.

As you maneuvered your car the short distance to the dark trailer, Eddie watched. And in the glow of your taillights, he noticed the abundance of bumper stickers that adorned the trunk. Stickers that weren’t there in the finale, which meant…

"She got to have her adventure," he said to himself in awe, happy that...at least in the few months since you left Port Geneva, you might’ve gotten to experience the world just like you wanted to.

He couldn't wait to ask you all about it. He couldn't wait to find out everything.

The morning took way too long to arrive.

Eddie tried to sleep but he was too wired, too excited.

He already decided that he was gonna skip class the next day. Or maybe roll in late if you had someplace you needed to be and he wouldn't get to show you around town or something else totally not lame.

That’s what he was banking on, though. If you had no plans, he could take you to Benny’s and get you a short stack with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, just like you got at Danny’s Diner back home.

“Alright,” he stared at himself in the mirror as he stepped out of the shower. “See? You can’t do that kind of shit. Can’t scare her away by making her think you know her already. That’s creepy. Gotta act like we don't know her. Easy.”

Not that easy, actually.

He was just...bubbling with thoughts and feelings. Enough that they caused his brain to go into meltdown.

At first, he tried to rationalize it all, tried to come up with some solution. Because somehow, for reasons to be determined at a later time, you left the confines of Port Geneva’s universe and made it to this one, where you were actually definitely real.

Right? You couldn't be a hallucination if the Mayfields had talked to you too. In fact, they talked to you first. So if anything, you were their hallucination.

Eddie tried to recall something that Henderson and Sinclair had babbled on about at lunch the other day: some new issue of the Flash comics. Crisis on Infinite Universes or something where people jumped to different timelines. Whatever that meant. If he had the time, he knew he should ask them a few questions about different universes and how this might all be possible.

Purely hypothetical, spin it as some idea for a campaign.

But why would he wait and let a good thing pass him up just because this was weird and he had questions?

Best case scenario, no one beside him would realize that you were a tv character, they would just think your name was familiar or something.

Worst case scenario they accuse him of witchcraft and bringing you into this dimension or something because there was no way you were real.

It would all work itself out in the end. He just had to be uncharacteristically optimistic and keep his eyes on the prize.

Come morning, Wayne got home from work and he walked in the door just as Eddie had changed clothes for the fifth time, made coffee AND breakfast for him, and washed the dishes.

“Well isn’t this a surprise,” he remarked and stared at the scene in front of him. “Do I wanna know what you did?”

“You remember when I was younger,” Eddie began as he fiddled with his rings. “And I asked you…I dunno…something about the birds and the bees and you said ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older kid?’”

“Hmm,” Wayne crossed his arms over his chest and ran a hand over his mouth. “Go on.”

“It’s nothing bad but, uh, I’ll tell you when you’re older Wayne.”

His uncle cracked a fond smile, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and then shuffled down to the bathroom.

Eddie sighed in relief and took a sip of his coffee while he looked out the window towards your trailer. It was daytime now; he didn’t expect to see lights on or anything, but he knew you got in late and didn’t want to interrupt your sleep. Not a great first impression.

Before long, though, he’d just gotten too antsy to wait anymore. He practically sprinted—damn when was he gonna learn that he shouldn’t skip gym so much—across the park to your door, Wayne's meager toolbox from under the sink swinging from his hand.

He paused the slightest bit to admire your car--

How many hours of screen time had been spent in this exact car as you drove Sam and the gang around for various shenanigans. There was one episode, a favorite of his, where everyone was belting out a tune from the radio and you sat there in the driver's seat...too shy to open your mouth. When they finally coerced you? You had the worst singing voice...but you smiled so brightly...that was the moment he knew he loved you...

--and, more importantly, the stickers that adorned it.

There were some normal ones: funny phrases, a few band stickers he wouldn’t have expected you to listen to, and a single borderline political one. A sticker that specifically caught his eye said “Greetings from Erebor” with a sword that had to be Orcrist and dwarvish runes below it.

You were a girl after his own heart; fortunately, it already belonged to you.

Then there were the ones you’d obviously picked up on your travels. He took an extra moment to look at them and think of some questions he could ask. A favorite place you visited, something crazy you might have eaten, or even some fun facts about...Monument Valley, Ocala National Forest, Mystic Falls Virginia, or…Cicely Alaska?

“Damn,” he let out a low whistle. “Must've put some miles on this thing.”

Having spent enough time just standing there, Eddie finally climbed the stairs and knocked on your door; the walls were thin enough that he could hear you shuffling around inside and he was relieved that he hadn’t woken you.

The door swung open--Eddie swore he heard the applause track from Port Geneva play in his head--and then there you were.

It was a moment he would cherish in his heart for the rest of his days. You, standing there, smiling that sweet, unsure smile at him with slightly tired but nevertheless bright eyes. Your clothes were askew from sleep or aforementioned shuffling and you straightened them out a little when you realized what you might look like.

“Cigarette porch guy,” you pointed a finger at him in recollection after a moment.

Now was the time, though, to muster up every ounce of Munson Magic that he could. He collected it deep in the core of him and then let it mingle with affection in his heart.

"Cigarette porch guy is my father. You can just call me Eddie."

You snorted a laugh and he beamed confidently; that confidence, however, fled his body as he felt the urge to hop around, giggle, and say "I know" when you introduced yourself. He needed to not screw this up by being a hyper mega-fan.

“I was so tired when I got in, I honestly thought you were a figment of my imagination,” you explained. "I woke up at like...4am trying to figure out if you were real or not."

Funny. He was trying to figure out the same thing.

Still, his heart skipped a beat to know you'd thought about him in any capacity after the few words you'd shared.

“Ouch,” he laid a hand on his chest and feigned a stumble. “I know it was late but I would hope I made a bit of a better impression than that.”

You pressed your lips together, scrunched your nose, and looked down at your feet.

“I’m, uh,” Eddie thumbed over his shoulder. “Here to take a look at your car.”

“Oh!” Your head snapped right back up. “Right! Yes, oh my god thank you. Let me just…get my keys and my shoes hang on.”

You retreated back into the trailer and Eddie, nosy as he was, peeked inside after you. Wayne would be ashamed of him, but he couldn't exactly care right now.

Your trailer mirrored other ones in the park, in terms of layout: a living room, a little kitchen, a hall that probably led to a bedroom. There was furniture though, which was not the norm.

A green armchair and a very well-worn blue plaid sofa that was home to a granny-square quilt, a too-soft pillow, and a very fancy canvas bedroll that Eddie assumed must have belonged to you. There was a dusty coffee table stacked with dustier magazines and newspapers and some very questionable looking mugs and plates of what used to be food. Yuck. A green bicycle with one tire was hung vertically on the wall beside the couch. And a little dining set off the kitchen looked like something straight out of the Brady Bunch.

He tried to remember who lived here before you did with such weird taste in furniture. Even more peculiar, where they might have gone for them to leave all of it behind. Especially the plates. No one came to mind though; he'd have to ask Wayne.

You shuffled down the hall--presumably from the bathroom since you'd slept out on the couch--and hopped as you tugged your sneakers on.

You jingled your keys at him excitedly.

"Here we go," you exclaimed. He held his hand out to take them and you were about to drop them in his palm when you hesitated. "I hope I'm not putting you out."

"Of course not," he reassured you and then backed out of the doorway. "It's my pleasure."

You listened aptly as he touted his excellent mechanic skills--

"You, uh...might hear my van rumble a little bit though. Haven't quite figured out why it's making that sound yet."

--and then you sat on the porch steps to watch him as he got to work.

The two of you talked as he inspected your car.

You were surprisingly very good at making conversation. Eddie always believed that you were a little soft spoken or a little shy, watching you on tv. However, as you spoke so excitedly and confidently and he saw you bloom in front of his very eyes, he wondered if it was just a byproduct of being overlooked whenever Sam took the spotlight with her grand speeches, big emotions, and too-bright personality.

He was suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing the real you and learning a lot more that wasn't shown on TV. In return, he could show you the real him too. Hell, he was always trying to be the real him...there were just some things though...

What an odd idea that hadn't really hit him until now. The desire to have you in his life to share things with, and the reality of having you here. He'd never thought of a relationship with a future before, hell hadn't even thought of his future really. Not even with Paige and the whole rockstar pipe dream, as short-lived as that was.

But the more he thought of that with you, the more he liked it. Desired it.

You started the conversation off by asking him about Hawkins and if he'd lived here for long. He gave probably the most unbiased opinion that he could as he hammered out the dents from your collision: it was a sleepy suburb where nothing ever happened and everyone was judgmental and opinionated and hated everyone who disturbed the status quo.

“Aren’t they all like that?” You asked, one eye sliding shut in a mischievous wink as you raised both brows in question.

“Yeah, I’m sure they are.”

Then he asked you about how you ended up in Hawkins, of all the places you could have picked, as he taped up the headlight that you'd cracked.

"It was fate or something. Had to bring me here so I could meet you right?" He sputtered over a response to that and you just laughed. "Actually, I just picked a place on a map. Pick two places. Flip a coin. That's how I pick most places I’ve been, you know?"

You took the opportunity to spin a tale about the so-called "perpetual roadtrip" that you'd embarked for the past year. His heart soared to hear that you’d been “practically everywhere” and he nodded eagerly when you offered to show him your sketchbook sometime with drawings of your favorite places.

"I know I need to go home at some point," you explained with a dismissive wave of your hand. "I guess I just don't know how to...stop driving. I've started this thing recently where I settle down somewhere for a little while. Maybe a few weeks? Maybe more. Get a job, get to know the people. Then I get to like...the final page of that chapter--the end of my little story in that place--and it's time for me to move on again.

"Actually, I guess it's not moving onto the next chapter; it's more like I've been written into a corner. I just...don't know what it is that I'm looking for. What it is that I need."

Eddie snorted to himself.

How many times had he asked himself what deity wrote his story into a pathetic corner where he couldn't leave Hawkins? And here you were feeling the same, only you were stuck in another way.

"Well...I hope you don't move on from Hawkins too quickly," he said, full of naive hope. "Maybe you'll find what you need here."

"Hmm," you rested your chin on your knees and sighed. "You know what? I kinda hope so too."

There was a lot of weight in your gaze as you watched him, and Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly and continued his inspection of the outside of the car so he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself with a mushy smile or a giggle.

He made his way back to the trunk and the bumper stickers; it was then that he asked about Cicely.

"Alaska? Seriously? You drove all the way up there?"

"Ok listen," you said with a conspiratorial grin. "I'm maybe a little bit of a phony. I traded someone for that one. This guy in a diner in Washington."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm. Damn fine cup of coffee." You snorted to yourself, some inside joke that he wished to be a part of.

"Is that, uh...a perpetual roadtrip thing?"

"I…I guess it is."

Finally, to end his self-proclaimed "ten-point inspection," Eddie got into the driver's seat to start the car, chatting all the while.

"Well, if you want a damn fine cup of coffee, there's this diner nearby that I swear makes the best. I know I haven't driven past Chicago or anything but..."

He trailed off as he turned the key in the ignition and noticed the odometer.

Your miles were in the millions.

Several million, at that.

He had half a mind to call you on your shit that you'd never been to Alaska because, surely, you had to have been with that high a number, but then he began to question the sight. He didn't think his odometer even went that high; none of the cars he'd ever seen went into the millions.

Was it just a Volkswagen thing? Or maybe a bi-product of you being here? A wrinkle in the fabric of reality?

Eddie tried to do the mental math but he couldn't figure out how many times you must have circled the states to hit that many miles. Or for how long.

A million miles divided by 365 days divided by 12 hours of driving in a day? He couldn’t do that much math without his head hurting. Still, it just didn't make sense. Maybe it was just broken?

"Everything alright?" you suddenly appeared at the door, teeth worrying your lower lip. You laughed but it didn’t quite meet your eyes. "You were just saying something about coffee and then you got all quiet. I don't need a new transmission or something do I?"

“You…” Eddie swallowed and stared at you, wondering if he should point out the odometer, if he should ask. Bur hadn't that been his problem just a few hours ago? Too many questions, too little time. Why was he going to pick this wonderful thing apart when he finally got what he deserved and yearned for all along.

“You...probably need an oil change,” he announced instead. “It sounds a little clunky. I, uh, can do it for you but I’ll need to stop by Thatcher Tires for some supplies.”

Your shoulders lost their tension and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Eddie, you’re seriously trying to be my hero, huh?” You fawned; hearing his name from your lips, let alone the fact you called him a hero, made his day. His year. Possibly his entire life. “You wanna fix everything else that’s wrong with my life?”

“I could try,” he offered eagerly.

“Don’t, I’ll seriously take you up on the offer.” You pressed your hands to your cheeks then looked back at the trailer. “Ok tell you what, give me like…20 minutes to get the road off of me and change. Then we can go to Thatcher Tires and you can show me this place with the best cup of coffee? And I can get you breakfast or something?”

Eddie was speechless again; were you…asking him out? Ok no you were just showing your gratitude, but it was a first step. Was everything going according to plan for the first time in his life?

He couldn’t count everything that happened in ‘84 for obvious reasons.

You noticed his hesitation and your eyes went wide.

“Unless you had other plans or someplace to be? I’ve already taken up enough of your time—“

“No!” He shouted and then backtracked to be a little softer. “I…no, there’s nothing else I have to do today. I’m…I’m all yours sweetheart.”

The rest of the day went by without a hitch.

And it truly was the rest of the day that you spent together.

It was almost too good to be true.

Eddie acted as chauffeur and self-proclaimed tour guide of Hawkins. He pointed out specific landmarks you'd need to know as he passed them: the town center, the grocery store, the post office.

"In case you want to send letters home or anything." He glanced your way slyly, hoping to maybe get some excited response about your friends back home, but you hummed noncommittally and turned your attention to the radio instead.

The rest of the ride to Benny's was spent swatting at each other's hands and bickering as you discussed music. When he mentioned that he had a band, you were awestruck, and Eddie's chest puffed with pride.

"Ok," you nodded appreciatively. "I see it now. The whole alt. metal wannabe rockstar thing. It suits you."

"You're gonna take back the whole wannabe rockstar thing when I write a song about you and it's a chart-topper," he teased.

"What's it gonna be about? My loser neighbor crashed her car, she held me hostage at the...dine-ar." You winced at the bad rhyme, but Eddie thought it was adorable. "Obviously I'm no Shakespeare. Please don't consider that my interview to be your songwriter."

You'd surprised Eddie by ordering an omelet instead of your usual, so Eddie, quick on his feet, ordered your usual instead and surprised you.

"Are you a mind reader? I always get that," you confessed. "I was just so tired last night, I figured I needed something a little more substantial."

Once the food arrived, though, you stared longingly at Eddie's strawberry and whipped cream covered pancakes. He took mercy on you and slid his plate to the middle of the table so you could take a few bites. You mirrored him with your own plate and he snagged a couple of bites of eggy, hammy, cheesy goodness.

You butt heads good-naturedly when it came time to dress up the plate of hash browns that came with your omelet. You wanted to keep it simple with salt and pepper, while he wanted them doused in ketchup. Back and forth, your forks clinked against each other's chosen condiment, over and over, until it was a veritable sword fight over the side dish.

"Stop it Eddie! They're so nice and crispy, don't ruin them."

"It won't ruin them. What are you saying right now? That you just don't like ketchup? You're breaking my heart."

"Some things are meant to be enjoyed in their pure and undisturbed state. Keep your filthy tomato goop away from my potatoes!"

The two of you laughed all the while, and Eddie swore it was the most fun he had outside of Hellfire in...quite some time.

Benny, who was also amused by your antics but not enough to listen to it for the rest of the morning, decided enough was enough and brought another plate of hash browns, "on the house if it'll prevent a food fight," before he retreated back to the kitchen.

The trip to Thatcher Tires was quick, and then the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon outside of your trailer again, chatting away as Eddie changed your oil. You sat on your stoop and doodled in your sketchbook as he regaled you with stories of his friends and his favorite haunts around Hawkins.

Granny had come out at one point to say hello and promised a welcome-to-the-park casserole, but after she left you noticed how he'd gotten a little sad and asked him what was wrong.

Eddie told you about Ronnie then, how much he missed her. How it was like missing a whole...bite had been taken out of his side when she finally left for college.

It felt like the easiest thing in the world--telling you everything and having you listen--because he'd already done it before, so many times. Only now, you were able to respond; he could look over and see you smile or laugh at one anecdote or another. Or offer some advice about your own friends who you missed. You didn't even judge him when he mentioned he was on his second repeat senior year; you just told him about your own story as an almost-drop-out.

You understood. You saw him. Just like he knew you would.

At some point late in the afternoon, as the sky began to take pink and orange hues and people started coming home from work, Eddie reluctantly called an end to your day together.

"I took up all of your time," he admitted bashfully, hands shoved in his pockets. "I'm sure you have a million things to take care of."

"I mean yeah," you shrugged. "But one day won't hurt. And it was a really good day."

"It was."

"Thanks for everything Eds." You immediately made a face and he laughed. "Eds? No. Ed...Eddie. God, sorry, I hate the whole figuring-out-the-nickname thing. So weird. Thanks for everthing Eddie."

"Yeah don't mention it," he chuckled.

It was a real midwest goodbye as you loitered at the bottom of your steps, prolonging both of your departures. A promise to bring over that tape he said he'd let you borrow, or to come share in Granny's proffered casserole when you finally received it.

Then finally, when you were practically in the door of your trailer, you turned around and stared at him, worrying your lip with your teeth as you often did.

"You know, I wasn't the valedictorian or anything, that's my best friend Sam," you shuffled your feet and paused for a minute. "But if you ever need help with homework or anything..."

"Yeah," he agreed a little too quickly, eager to get more time with you. "No, yeah...that sounds...great."

"I'm pretty good at history," you went on. "I have a crazy memory, you wouldn't even realize."

"No that sounds great, I'm, uh...failing history right now, actually," he admitted.

"Perfect! You know where to find me."

"It's a dat--study session!" He caught himself quickly, but not quick enough. He felt the heat building in his cheeks as you covered your mouth in a giggle. "Ignore me. Ignore that. I'm just gonna go...yeah."

And then, it was like in the movies. The angels were singing, birds chirping, the slowly dying sun beamed brightly on you as you opened your mouth and said:

"It can be a date if you want it to be. I had a lot of fun today, so I, uh, think that would be pretty great actually."

It was everything Eddie ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed.

A real date. With the real, very real, definitely not fictional girl of his dreams.

He smiled the biggest smile he ever had, big enough to rival a shark, that's how happy he was.

"It's a date, then."

Next Chapter: Out of Character

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger than (fan)fiction #stff #stff updates #Eddie munson fic #stranger things fic

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Marvel

Dumb, Dumber and Dumbass by tempestaurora

As Coach Wilson peered out the window in the living room, May said, very quietly, “You didn’t realise your brother worked at Peter’s school?”

“We all make mistakes!” Sam hissed.

Then Coach Wilson was leaning back and a figure in a hoodie and jeans stepped through the window and into the living room, and Peter’s heart sank into his stomach like a rock. Sam’s brother was, true to story, scarred from head to toe. He could see the puckered skin on his hands, the burns across his bald head. But that wasn’t the shocking part—the shocking part was that he’d already seen it before: he’d seen it when a certain vigilante’s suit had been destroyed three nights before, and Peter had walked with him back to his backpack to loan him some clothes.

“This is Wade,” Sam introduced.

Sam Wilson had two brothers: one was Peter’s gym teacher, and the other was fucking Deadpool.

OR: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Family Dinner, during which Peter and May meet Sam's family. Meanwhile, Tony sends constant text updates about his search for whoever graffiti-ed Avengers Tower.

Death Before Inaction by hppjmxrgosg

"Fuck off, Nicky.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Hasn’t anyone ever told you spider-napping is illegal?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “You can’t hold me here, I know my spider-rights.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “God, you guys are so old. What are you? Like 27?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Scale of 1 to 10, how upset would you be if I told you I banged your mom?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Or, I got my grubby little hands on the spider-man time line and fucked around a little bit. Not much (everything) changes.

DC / Star Wars (Crossover)

Obi-Wan in Gotham by hoebiwan (+ podfic)

Obi-Wan falls through a hole in the universe and ends up in the Batcave.

Clone Wars

the war has just begun by unintentionalgenius

The first problem was that the Supreme Commander didn’t give them enough warning about what they were stumbling into, when they were ordered out into it. Someone above General Kenobi’s head sent the men planetside in standard-issue gear, without thermal clothing or heat packs or sleeping kit or enough food for more than a single day. They had no extra ammo, no tents, no heavy artillery. They had barely any warning.

The second problem was that Supreme Command underestimated the strength of the enemy; it was supposed to be an easy enough job, holding the planet long enough to route the Seppies and then right back to the ship, leaving a contingent of troopers stationed there to retain what they’d won.

The third problem - the real problem - came when they let themselves become surrounded and the Separatists cut their supply line. Cody’s partially at fault for that one; a better Commander would’ve seen it coming. A better Commander would’ve had more backup plans, been prepared for more contingencies.

Being cut off from re-supply would’ve been a problem before the snow started.

Then the snow started.

I've never made it with moderation by Trixree (+ podfic)

He’d known how some of the men are with younglings—known from Waxer and Boil how sharply those attachments can form with little ones. Hell, the men were raised to be protective, so much so that Obi-Wan has often wondered if their protective drive was not written into their very atoms, some intrinsic part of their DNA.

It wasn’t something Obi-Wan had ever questioned. He’d thought he had understood the scope of it. In reality, he hadn’t understood a thing.

Not until Kamino.

Or: Not all that dive from cliffs make a running head start. Sometimes, the Fall is only a natural progression.

Standards of Professionality by Trixree

"Are we going to pretend I didn’t just find you fucking your General, vod?” Rex hisses over private-comm.

Cody doesn’t even turn his head to look at him. Rex can hear the smile in Cody’s voice when he replies, “No, because I am not fucking my General, Rex’ika. I am fucking Obi-Wan. We are professionals.”

5 times Cody and Obi-Wan struggled to maintain plausible deniability regarding their affections for one another + 1 time they decidedly Did Not.

The Hunger Games

Lover & Loner by amateurwordbender

Haymitch once told him that he’s a survivor. It hadn’t been a compliment; he’d slurred out the words in pity after finding Finnick shaking apart from a panic attack.

Jo’s a survivor, too.

(Finnick and Johanna, from the moment they meet to the bitter end)

Original Works

for the want of a jewel by FormlessVoidbeast

With his country fallen to the unstoppable tide of the Dread Warlord, a terrified king sends a peace offering of his own flesh and blood in the hopes of buying leniency.

When Prince Damian of Miska is accepted as the symbol of his country's surrender and immediately wedded to the Warlord, he expects his fate to be both painful and humiliating, and his death inevitable. To his confusion, the Warlord and his terrible Warlock seem to have no interest in abusing that which they have claimed as their own. As Damian finds his feet and gains friends in a new land, he begins to question everything he once thought was true.

But some jewels were never meant to be sold, and the consequences of Damian's sacrifice are more far-reaching than anyone expected.

#i have also been in the trenches of hunger games fic over the past week #i've been in dark fandoms before and read a lot of heavy content #but hoo boy the hunger games fandom is BLEAK #my posts #weekly fic round up #fic recs #marvel recs #sw recs #original works recs #misc recs #hunger games recs

[urrockstar-xe]

detective sweetheart - n.a x fem!reader

posted nov 3rd, 2023 12:22 am

this was what i did for my "based on my day" challenge (i spent it watching svu season 14 lmfao) its also my first time writing for nick amaro or any detectives in general so I'm sorry if he's a bit ooc, its also a crossover with criminal minds and i think i made up the whole technical analyst assistant thing but that's my job in my criminal minds DR lmfao. hope you enjoy :)

this includes alcohol (reader consumption), use of Y/n, and possibly wrong wording for FBI stuff?? the reader likes children (in a not creepy way). Jennifer Jareau

summary: the BAU's technical analyst assistant develops quite the crush on SVU's detective Nick Amaro

masterlist

word count: 0.8k

You sat quietly in a bar, sitting amongst a group of FBI agents you knew well and a few detectives you’d just recently had the pleasure of meeting, chatting about the now-closed case and a few chatting about their children, you hadn’t spoken much, too busy trying not to stare at Detective Nick Amaro.

“Detective Amaro, this is Y/n L/n, she’s our technical analyst assistant, our official technical analyst is back at Quantico focusing on another case” Your boss, Aaron Hotchner, introduced you to one of the detectives you’d be working with for a necrophilia serial killer case, 

You two spent the last few days working very closely together on this case. 

Penelope had been working on another case and due to a small fire that you and Penelope accidentally started with a candle in your already small office, Hotch decided to bring you with the team to Manhattan.

And of course, with your luck, Penelope couldn’t be there to fangirl over the hot detective with you, so you had to deal with the consequences of your short attention span all on your own, (granted our beloved Spencer did try to relate and fangirl with you, he did his best, but he was quite busy getting into conspiracy arguments with Sergeant John Munch).

Now that the case was over, Hotch decided that the team was in no rush back to Quantico and could leave in the morning, so while he called in early and left back to his hotel, the rest of you went out with some of the SVU detectives,

Including Nick 

of course.

“What about you? Got any kids?” Nick asked, accidentally snapping you out of your trance, as he handed JJ back her phone after she showed him a photo of her boys.

“Oh, uh”

fuck, he smelt good, why did Derek have to sit you right next to him?? 

“No, no kids, I do adore them though” You smiled in a way you hoped wasn’t too awkward, before Emily spoke up “She’s great with them too! I mean they just love her” 

Nick smiled at that, nodding as Emily talked. 

You laughed awkwardly in response, “she’s exaggerating” you whispered just loud enough for Nick to hear, earning a laugh. 

oh my god, he LAUGHS?

“As much fun this has been, I’m gonna call it a night” JJ announced, standing up from her seat, her actions mirrored by Spencer as he agreed. 

They were shortly followed by Olivia, Fin, and Emily. Derek went home with a pretty girl (obviously) and finally, Rossi left with Rollins, after she offered him a ride back to the hotel.

That left, you and Nick, alone

of fucking course

“So, miss L/n, how was your first time in New York, huh?” He asked, taking a sip of his bourbon or was it whiskey? Maybe scotch? You couldn’t remember

“Oh, you mean besides the corpse-loving freak? Pretty great, thanks for asking, Detective.” you joked, feeling less intimidated thanks to the vodka cranberry sitting in front of you.

He laughed, “Yeah, dumb question” he shook his head almost embarrassed but you were eating it up.

“How was your first time working with the BAU, hm?” Nick smiled as you practically hummed the question, he thought it was cute, and you could tell, which only boosted your confidence.

“Gotta be honest, I was worried you guys would swarm in and take everything over but, it was a lot easier than I expected” You nod in response, 

“A lot of people think that, but typically it’s an ego thing. was it an ego thing for you, Nicky?” The nickname had slipped off your tongue with ease as you teased your schoolgirl crush, having called him that just a few days ago when you first started working together.

Nick scoffed, “What? No, absolutely not” but the small smirk on his lips was a dead giveaway. “Okay, maybe it was kind of an ego thing, just a little bit” he whispered his confession. You all but giggled in response

“It’s gettin’ late, what do you say I walk you back to your hotel huh?” he offered, standing up and putting his coat on before reaching for yours 

“I’d like that, thank you, Detective” You smiled, standing from your seat and sighing as he carefully put your coat on for you.

The hotel wasn’t far but god you wished it had been, it would’ve given you some more time to flirt with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life

(exaggerating? Pft nuh-uh) 

But yet, here you stood, in front of the tall building that ruined your excitement.

“Hey, uh how would you feel if the next time you were in New York, I took you out?” Nick asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

You smiled, hoping the lights surrounding you both hid the blush on your cheeks instead of accentuating it. “Or if you’re ever in Virginia?” 

He smiled, nodding. 

“I think I’d like that a lot” You responded, quietly, suddenly very sober.

“Great, have a safe flight back home, alright?”

it's already over

“Thank you for walking me back, Nick” 

“Anytime, goodnight, sweetheart” he smiled once more.

Sweetheart

“Goodnight, detective”

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x you #nick amaro imagine #svu imagine #law and order svu imagines #nick amaro fluff #nick amaro #Spotify

[cryonme]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

—Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

—summary: you lose your temper at a party and expect Conrad to be mad, but instead he breaks down.

—word count: 1.3k

—tw: fight, mentions of abuse, men(🤢), panic attack, swearing

—a/n: had this in my drafts along with complex so I thought why not give the hotties a double update, huh? also, if you read ocean eyes, keep ur eye out for a teeeeensy crossover.

Conrad’s hands were shaking as he drove you home, his car blanketed in the dark of the night as he tried his best to grip the steering wheel so he could just stop fucking shaking.

You sat in the passenger’s seat, biting your nails. Your heart was in the pit of your stomach, being swallowed whole by the acid and you were sure you could vomit. The thought of Conrad ever being mad at you made you sick.

It wasn’t like you went around the house party looking for a fight, in fact it was quite the opposite. You were excited for the party, to take a couple shots, dance with your friends, take mirror selfies with girls you just met and makeout with your boyfriend in a corner. But, the night had other plans for you.

Lexi and Olivia. The pair of best friends that had shot their shots with your boyfriend and his brother last summer, back when you were “just friends”. They had some weird fantasy about dating brothers and marrying into the same family, and were livid when they were both shot down. Ever since then, you and Jeremiah’s boyfriend, Hayden, endured the stink eye from the two girls. Not that you cared much, as long as they were smart enough to keep your family’s name out of their mouth.

Spoiler, they weren’t.

You had been walking to the bathroom, Belly behind you with her hand clasped tightly in yours when you overheard them saying nasty things about the brothers as they giggled with a couple boys you didn’t recognize. You stopped dead and your tracks and narrowed your eyes, your presence still unknown to them.

“No.” Belly said, trying and failing to pull you in the direction of the bathroom but you were firmly planted, staring down the two girls as they covered their mouths with laughter and rage boiled in your veins. Hell no.

You had no shame, walking right up to the girl who had been dumb enough to let your boyfriend’s name slip past her lips and shoving her.

She gasped as she spilled her drink on herself and you rolled your eyes.

“Learn to keep my boyfriend’s name out of your mouth.” You spat. And as you turned to walk away, your wrist was caught. The person dug into your skin so harshly you nearly whimpered, but instead you whipped your head around, eyes connecting with one of the unrecognized boys.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Conrad Fisher’s girlfriend, bitch.”

The boy pulled you closer, his grip on you harshening and you kept your tough face, but you were beginning to get scared. There weren't a whole lot of people near this section of the house, and the people who were occupying it only held their phones up, flashlights radiating the room. You prayed Belly had been smart and gone to get Conrad or Jeremiah.

“He needs to learn to keep you on a tighter leash.” The guy growled. You could feel his breath on your face and you whimpered as his grip tightened even more. He chuckled.

“Not so tough now, are you?

You were speechless. It was hard to be tough when your wrist was in the harsh grip of a man much larger than you, being slowly cornered into a wall. Becoming a man’s abuse fantasy come to life was fucking terrifying, and there was no tough face to put on anymore.

Thankfully, Jeremiah and Conrad had stepped in at just the right time, pulling the guy off of you and shoving him. 

Conrad pinned the boy to the wall, his forearm slammed against his chest, locking him in.

“You so much as look at my girl again,” He paused, his chest heaving as he put more pressure into the boy’s chest, making him groan, “You’re gonna lose your fuckin’ eyeballs.” 

He spit in the kid’s face before he let go and turned to you. He planted a hand on your jaw, chest heaving as he raked your body for any injuries other than your wrist, and when he hadn’t found any, he intertwined his free hand with yours and pulled you closer to him, planting a kiss to your forehead and ushering you to come with him.

He was mad at you, you were so sure he was mad at you. He looked so mad when he was talking to the guy that that’s all you could picture in your head, his anger.

Your fingers ached to slip through his shaking ones, to calm the tremors but you were afraid he’d get upset. So, you brought your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, careful not to put your wrist in too weird of a position.

Your outbursts weren’t anything new. In fact, they happened very frequently, but most of the time you were able to keep it under control until you were in private, usually doing breathing exercises with an ever so patient Conrad.

But you had lost it, completely lost your cool and embarrassed him. He wouldn’t even look at you, and you knew he was saving it for when you made it back to his house.

He gently put the car in park and took the keys out of the ignition, his shaky hands losing control and dropping them near his feet.

“Fuck!” His voice rang in the car and you jumped, closing your eyes and holding a hand to your heart. 

But when you opened your eyes you didn’t see anger. You didn’t see his nostrils flare or his jaw clench as he tried to keep his cool. You saw panic.

He was scared.

His hands were clenched and his eyes were wide, his knee bounced uncontrollably as he stared anywhere he could but you. He knew if he looked at you, saw your tear stained cheeks and the bruising around your wrist he’d lose it, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to break down in front of you when you were the one hurting.

“Conrad…”

His breaths were sharp as his eyes filled with tears, refusing to look at you.

You didn’t waste any time as you unbuckled your seatbelt, clambering over the center console and straddling your boyfriend, holding his face firmly in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“I’m okay.” You assured him and he nodded, digging his fingers into your thighs.

“Say it.” You said, your voice achingly gentle but firm.

“You’re okay.” He responded and you nodded, wiping away the salty tears that began to slip from the corner of his eyes and kissing away the ones that made it down to his lips.

His hands had traveled to your waist, softly gripping at the skin as he let his forehead drop to your shoulder. He was still shaking.

“Baby.” You cooed and he let out a sob and you held on tighter, ignoring the throb in your wrist. His tears didn’t let up and your heart ached as he cried, suddenly feeling guilty for not holding his hand and soothing him earlier. “I’m right here.”

You swayed him lightly back and forth, tangling your fingers in his hair and leaving sweet kisses to the side of his head.

“I should’ve been there I-” He gasped for air. “I should’ve fucking been there.”

You shook your head, “No, no, don’t put this on yourself.”

“He was holding you so tightly and you- you looked so scared and I- fuck, I don’t-” He bagan to stutter, his anxiety and panic barring him from forming coherent sentences.

“It’s okay, my love. Breathe.” You said, your voice even and calm.

You had been scared out of your mind but as soon as you saw Conrad’s shaking frame, something snapped, and you were still, holding your boy in your arms.

Conrad eventually relaxed enough for you to take him inside and he fell asleep with his head resting on your stomach, his body situated in between your legs while watching a movie on the couch, your fingers tangled in his hair and you felt a weight release from your shoulders when you heard his deep breaths and soft snores, finally allowing yourself to close your eyes.

*screaming* I LOVE CHEESY ENDINGS

anyway. not tagging, i don’t think i’ll be doing a taglist anymore, only like 2% of my reblogs are from people on my taglist, and i don’t feel like going through all of the trouble for nothing, so🫶🏼 unless ur a moot who specifically asks to be tagged in a fic we’ve discussed, taglist is discontinued!

i still love u all tho xo

#conrad fisher fic rec #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty fanfic #conrad fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher #belly conklin #steven conklin

[kathaynesart]

My biggest fear about Mutant Mayhem isn’t the movie itself, but the fan reaction leading up to it. I don’t want to see people give this a cold shoulder cause they’re bitter Rise got cancelled. I love Rise as much as the next fan, but this movie looks way too great to be even mildly annoyed. I want it to succeed, and for it to be appreciated as another take on the TMNT for its unique identity, animation, personality, and dumb teen energy that’s so infectiously lovable from the trailer already. Your thoughts?

Totally understandable and I think you make some good points. I do think the new version looks really fun. I doubt it will become a new hyper-fixation for me (Rise is the first one to capture my interest in such a way in over 8 years and it does not happen often), but I definitely think it deserves some love and attention.

To Rise fans who are still (understandably) bummed I would suggest this: if you can, go support Mutant Mayhem. If only because the TMNT franchise, like all long running intellectual properties, needs fuel and ongoing proof of its relevance. Give it money and it will give back. TMNT has a proven track record of bringing back old series via crossover movies at the very least. So I would expect nothing less than for the same to happen for Rise. But they need money to do that. Not just from a “greedy capitalistic” angle, but to be able to support all the hard working creators that pour over it.

In the end, animation is one of the most expressive and transparent forms of cinema and I feel like you can really tell when love is put into something, even if the style/theme might not be your specific jam. Just like Rise, this movie seems to have a lot of the same love infused within it and I appreciate that and will show my support for that reason.

[meowmeowriley]

Have a list of everything I've got on AO3! (And a few things I don't yet)

Current WIPS on AO3

Little Meow Meow - Emo catboy!Ghost can't die. Let's rewrite the games!

Poké-Pandemonium - Pokémon, COD, and secretsssssss. I've worked hard to make this fic welcoming to Pokémon fans and non-Pokémon fans alike ❤

More Than Just Loose Ends - after 09 Ghost dies he wakes up again, as an ethereal being that only 22 Ghost can see. Can we call him a guardian angel if he's actually a bloodthirsty psychopath?

Oh, Brother - An outsider POV of Ghost and Soap getting together, told through the eyes of their siblings. Now a series!

I Don't Think We're in Space Anymore - An alien crash lands in Mexico, and Price and Laswell decide to give it a mask and a gun. That alien is Ghost.

Was tHat thE BiTe oF 22 - FNAF, but with COD characters. Lot's of child death, but like it's fine, they possess the animatronics! They're totally fine.

Be Kind, Rewind - Ghost gets de-aged. He's still Ghost. In theory, this could be greatness! A soldier with his experience in a younger, more virile body. He's now young, not really dumb, and full of cum! (Provided he can convince Soap to sleep with him, that is.)

Current WIPS confined to my notes app

Duo Fatui - An Unus Annus tribute. Soap is Unus, Ghost is Annus. Rewriting my favorite episodes/moments with the boys in place of Mark and Ethan.

Is That Gonna be a Problem? - Simon met Johnny and Jenny, twins, as a kid. On leave in Glasgow, he reconnects with his childhood friends. Post Roba, Pre 141

Cohabitation - Simon Riley died and came back. Twice. His corpse was resurrected as a zombie, and his spirit remains as a ghost that possesses said corpse. Ghost!Ghost and Zombie!Ghost, and the 141 finding out about their odd situation.

Lost a Bet - Ghost lost a bet with Gaz, and Gaz gets to design Ghost's next mask. Ghost now has to wear the cat themed mask for a month. During that time he bonds with the stray cats around base.

Outlaw Outta Time - a COD and RDR2 crossover. The boys accidentally go back in time while looking for Graves, and get tangled up in the Van der Lind gang's shenanigans. A fix it for Arthur (side ships include Ale/Rudy and Arthur/Albert Mason)

??? - Unnamed fic about trans!Ghost dropping hints that he's trans, and Soap who thought he was straight having the most confusing crush on his lieutenant. They fuck about it.

??? - Unnamed fic about a rescue mission to save Elizabeth. Johnny thinks she's Ghost's girlfriend, she is not. She's his dog. Ghost is aware of the miscommunication, and does absolutely nothing to correct it, because it's funny.

??? - Unnamed fic about Ghost and Soap getting sucked into our world a la Supernatural's The French Mistake. They have to pretend to be Samuel and Neil until they figure out how to get home.

I also have a collection of completed One-shots! MMR's One-Shots

I'm desperate for interaction! Did a fic catch your eye? Have questions, comments, or concerns? Is there something you'd like me to write? Talk to meeeeeeeeee!!!!!

#cod mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #fanfic #ao3 #call of duty #my wips #current wip

[bookofmirth]

Did you like cc3 or love? Neither?

oh hello, why don't you pull up a chair because I have finished this book and I have Thoughts. I was thinking for a good chunk of this book that I would give it 2 stars. I still might. It depends on how it sits with me over the next couple of weeks. I ended up giving it 3 because I did enjoy some parts.

I will start with the more positive thoughts.

I am glad that the crossover was limited. One of my fears was that the series be unavoidably intertwined from here on out, so that pleases me.

I really did like seeing how Nesta has grown, her friendship with Azriel, and seeing more interesting things with his powers! That was really neat.

I did laugh out loud a couple of times, at points where I was supposed to laugh out loud. I think Tharion is dumb as hell but he made me chuckle.

The scene with Ithan and Sabine towards the end was good, I was like Gordon Ramsay, finally, some delicious fucking consequences.

Ummm... I like Ruhn and Lidia still. They had some silly moments, but overall they are the only characters in this book that I still have a shred of respect for. Maybe Perry and Sathia. Everyone else is on thin fucking ice.

Shout out to the one (1) line Bryce said that I liked: “I’m sick and tired of people using 'girl' as an insult.”

Unfortunately, the list of things I didn't like is far longer. I'm actually going to put it under the cut if people don't want their enjoyment spoiled or simply don't care.

In my opinion, sjm is a good storyteller, and an okay writer. This book really, really highlighted that for me. The plotting was a mess, I was constantly going back a page because I was confused about what was going on, there were weird inconsistencies that only made sense if you stepped back from the book and thought "well, the author needed that to happen, I guess."

There were some typos and word choice errors that should have been caught - "every muscle in Bryce's body went taught" and then a missing quotation mark (But it was Aidas who answered, pride flaring on his face. Apollion slew her with his Helfire when she attacked him—he pulled her burning heart from her chest and ate it.”). Not to mention the 255 "could have sworns" and 50-something "as if". I noticed a few similar phrases to this. If I'm feeling spicy one day maybe I will go back and find them.

The number of times she says "by whatever power" or "somehow" in a book where she has spent a lot of time explaining the power, and we should know what the "somehow" is???

Who in the ever loving fuck thinks that splitting up two tense scenes by cutting them into bite sized pieces and then interspersing them together is a good idea???

There were multiple times when I laughed out loud at scenes that were not meant to be funny, because they just seemed so dumb. Like... Ithan "accidentally" beheading Sigrid. Excuse me?? lmao (I edited this one because in my annoyance I misrepresented that a bit)

The tone was so, so off. That was a big source of my inappropriate laughing. Like, Hunt thanking Urd that he had such a loyal, fierce badass mate. Or a chapter starting with Ruhn saying "nah". I think this is because the genre could not decided what it wanted to be. SJM was still writing like this was high fantasy, but then used the word "like" in the way that I use the word "like". I do get that this is urban fantasy and she tried to smush it with a high fantasy (a high fantasy with very little world building, but still), but I really do not think that this genre serves sjm's style of storytelling. At all.

Dear powers that be in whatever heaven that exists, please stop letting sjm describe every single character as the most strongest beautiful fiercest loyal badass tough unflenching etc etc etc. I fucking beg. One of the big reasons that I dislike pretty much every character in this series is that they ALL HAVE THE SAME PERSONALITY.

Bryce is annoying as hell. I could write a whole essay on her but she is easily my least favorite sjm character EVER.

I am bitter at feeling like I needed to read this book when, after hosab, I would have given up on this series if not for the crossover.

The crossover really did feel like a "teehee I can do this because I want to" with very, very little thought as to how it would actually make sense. A crossover like this should NOT be done by someone who doesn't outline, and who pantses their writing. Pantsing is fine in itself! Pantsers should be barred from writing this kind of book.

Hunt's dick is too big for his underwear.

#hofas #hofas spoilers #house of flame and shadow spoilers #Leslie reads hofas #house of flame and shadow #sjm critical

[crazynerdandproud]

Leverage/Psych crossover ideas

Shawn and Elliot are cousins. They havent met because Henry is estranged from his sibling who is Elliot’s parent. Team Leverage does a job in Santabarabra while Shawn and co are in the middle of in unrelated murder investigation. They come within mere seconds of crossing paths several times until finally Parker runs into Lassiter. They both see someone do something dumb and mutter the same thing under their breaths. They hear each other and catch eyes. They have a short talk where they bond over being autistic coded. Then they go their separate ways, fully expecting to never see the other again. Yeah, they thought the other person seemed cool but neither of them are really in the market for more friends

The Leverage team finishes their con successfully and leaves town. Somehow the bad guys manage to learn Elliot’s name. Wait, Spencer? Like the psychic? They look into it and yeah turns out they’re related. They kidnap Shawn to get to Elliot and then call Sophie or rather Sophie’s alias and say hey guess what? We’ve got your cousin and unless you undo the damage you did and give us a bunch of money we’ll kill him.

Elliot is confused at first before he remembers yes, he does have a cousin who is from Santabarbara. Didn’t know he was psychic though. (Not that he’s sure he believes that) So they turn around and head back to Santabarbara.

Naturally since Shawn was kidnapped Lassie and Jules are on the case. (And Gus)

At first their are no leads. They have no idea why Shawn was kidnapped. Then, they find security footage and manage to link it back to the same company whose ceo Lassiter arrested for fraud the day before. They aren’t sure what the connection is, but it’s there.

Then team Leverage gets back to town. They team up with the Santabarbara crew and rescue Shawn. (Possibly Elliot intentionally gets himself captured because it’s the quickest way to find Shawn and then takes the bad guys out while Shawn is standing is standing in the background like “wow my cousin is badass!”)

Sidenote: Shawn gets his kidnappers to spill the beans on what’s going on and they tell him about how his cousin framed a guy for fraud. Shawn recognizes that for the half truth it is.

During the time looking for Shawn Parker befriends both Jules and Lassiter. (She goes with her fbi cover, which Hardison has officially made almost full proof in its authenticity.) or not. Idk.

Gus and Alec would obviously love going undercover together. Alec finally has someone who will go along with his dramatics easily, like it’s any other day. Gus meanwhile is used to working with Shawn and is having a blast, cause its very similar. Obviously it’s different then Shawn and Gus, I mean Alec and Gus just met, but its an equal tug and pull of power. They are both just grounded enough that neither one of them is the crazy one, but neither are either of them the completely normal levelheaded one either.

Maybe at the end, Henry reaches out to his estranged sibling or something. As for Sophie and Nate? Well Sophie can’t get involved because she was already the public face of the con. And Nate is intimidated by chief Vick, but he doesn’t tell anyone that. By the end only Shawn and Gus know that the crew are thieves. Lassiter and Jules know something is fishy about them, but hey, it’s probably just fbi stuff. (Plus Jules reached out to her brother and Ewan said Elliot is a good guy.)

Thanks to @duckapus for kickstarting this idea by your leverage psych crossover post

#leverage #psych #elliot spencer #shawn spencer #parker #juliet o’hara #carlton lassiter #burton guster #alec hardison #sorry Sophie and Nate don’t make much of an appearance #also Karen Vick is the best and would easily sniff out Nate’s bullshit #also idk Nate is an okay guy but he gives off weird vibes that I don’t like #and I have projected that onto chief vick #ooh! #maybe she also has her suspicions about the crew #but they are only suspicions #long post

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Ghosts of Our Past: pt 11

DP x DC crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne sibling AU

Ao3

Masterpost Prev Next

It's Wednesday my dudes, here you go

---

Constantine: Ya better not be asking because the pajama party managed to both find one and piss it off.

Batman: That is not the situation.

Constantine: Can you leave it alone? If yes: do that!

Batman: I am simply asking for information.

---

"Coffee buddy!" Danny called as Tim (or did he prefer Drake? He'd heard him called both so maybe it was just whatever?) walked into the cave shortly after Alfred. Who was liminal but in a weird way... Danny was guessing he was just your standard immortal. Anyway! Tim looked like he hadn’t slept in the time between now and when Danny had last seen him.

"Coffee buddy!" Tim shouted, as dramatically as he did, then in more of a whisper, "You have to help me! Alfred has cut me off!"

Danny glanced at Alfred, who had definitely heard him. Nope! Not worth the risk! "I can guess why. I might be half dead, but at least I don't look it,"

Everyone tensed at the joke, the opposite of what Danny had been going for. Scratch that, everyone but Jason tensed. Jason let out a snort. "They don't think those jokes are funny,"

Danny pouted almost as much as Tim.

---

Jazz chose boots instead of heels. Armored HAZMAT instead of a blazer. Hair pulled tightly back instead of free and unthreatening. If her roommate was still awake, she'd probably mistake her for an intruder, but she was not, and Jazz was gone before that could change. Gotham was over a days drive away— but only if she insisted on obeying physics.

---

Danny had waited until later in the night to tell Damian "We should talk." And had Damian stiffened but agreed. Because of the lateness someone suggested that Damian guide his brother back to the hotel. While, again, Damian agreed, the tension did not lift. They moved silently until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry." Danny "I should've come back for you, I was a coward, probably still am, but—"

"No— you’re not— Stop apologizing! I should be apologizing!"

The air was a swirl of bitter flavors, Danny gave a nervous laugh before starting. "It's fine— I mean, it's really not, but we were little kids and like, super brainwashed. So it's not purely your fault... I mean I don't blame you for it... anymore..."

"Just like that?" Damian's voice was small. Doubt was sour like inedible berries, honey sweet hope did little to balance it.

Danny sighed, "Dami, I've spent the last seven years trying to sort this out in my head. It's not 'just' like anything."

He turned around, his back to Damian as he climbed. "Like this, it freaks me out, and at first I thought you'd been hunting me, but you weren't and intentions matter."

Like all the ghosts who'd been teaching him how to ghost by lightly punting him, or his parents before the ectouranium incident. Damian had waited a moment before following him, putting enough distance between them that Danny didn't feel like his heart was going to leave his chest. Even if Danny wasn't actually that worried about being stabbed, he would be fine, he wouldn't even bleed if he didn't want to. Trauma was dumb like that though, and he appreciated Damian's patience.

His younger brother pulled himself up after him. "But I did. I meant to."

Guilt was another flavor Danny couldn't describe with human terms, but this specific guilt satisfied something entirely in-human inside him, a part that still hadn't let this death go. "And you did. But would you do it again?"

"No!"

"Then we're cool about that."

"And about you remaining hidden." Damian adds. "I would not have responded the same if you had returned to Nanda Parbat..."

"But you got out," Danny marveled. "I hadn't let myself hope, Dami... I'm so proud of you,"

Damian sniffled, and Danny pulled the younger boy into his arms.

---

Back in the cave, Bruce moved to the comms control panel, and silently hit mute. They didn't need anyone else listening in on this.

The league communicator buzzed.

Constantine: And you're sure it's a Doorway Spirit, not just a Barrier Spirit?

Batman: He said Doorway.

Constantine: Who said it?! Bats if someone is fucking around with one, ya lead with that!

---

Cleaning tears out of domino masks wasn't hard, but it did make one feel foolish. Danny seemed way too amused but the fact.

"They're designed to keep outside contaminants out. The usual amount of tears is minimal." Damian pointed out.

"It still seems dumb." Danny finished wiping his on the hem of his shirt. At least they both had hoods, otherwise they'd have to find a more secure location with fuzzy lenses.

"It is certainly an oversight." Damian agreed.

"Makes sense tho?"

"What does?"

"If you're having a crisis in the mask you probably should go home. And if you can't see, then it's gonna be hard to keep working."

"Sometimes we are still needed. It is something to improve."

Danny paused, mask still in hand. He looked Damian in the eye. "Even with all of you? It gets that bad?"

"There are times, it's not— Danny..." Damian took a step back.

"Is everything... oh, it's my eyes again isn't it." Danny flushed, and his eyes returned to blue. "That's just something that happens with me, it's not a sign I'm about to go all murdery or something."

Damian nodded slowly, Danny certainly seemed in control of himself, and earlier with Todd he'd focused on defense. That did not seem like someone under the influence of pit rage.

"I've got it on the list of 'things I need to explain at some point,'"

"You have a list."

"Yeah, I have a list, my life is weird. You should probably have a list too."

"I do not."

"I'm sorry?! Do you think I missed the Bat cave dinosaur?!"

---

Batman: Constantine. What do you know?

Constantine: for certain? Almost nothing. These guys are rare, and powerful.

---

"Why is there a magazine butt plate catch?" Jason asked, completely serious. Tim was too sleep deprived to not giggle.

"Replacement." Jason chided, almost sounding fond... Tim must be getting slap happy. Jason held up the offending piece of metal. "Where did this come from?"

"Probably from when Danny took apart the gun,"

"What?"

Tim was already pulling up the mask footage. They watched the two minute explanation, then, gun bits on the pavement.

"He didn't even look at it..." Tim realized, considering that the part on the table wasn't that easy to remove. He was also 90% sure you needed tools to take a gun apart that completely.

"You know what, that tracks." Jacen said, like he was aware of something Tim was not.

---

Batman: Do you want to have this conversation in person?

Constantine: *Read 1:46 AM*

---

"So... Do you play Doomed?"

"Tt, Of course,"

"Oh, so you're good at it." Danny inferred, hopping down onto the fire escape.

Damian followed, noting how the metal had been silent for Danny, but made a soft clank when Damian stepped. The more Danny relaxed the more effort Damian had to put into tracking his movements. "Of course,"

Danny made a mock-offended gasp, "You're just saying of course to be annoying!"

Damian hadn't been, he had been distracted by the almost unnatural stealth. However he did not say this. He gave a sly smile. "Of course,"

"Well then, I don't suppose you'd want to come in and meet my friends?"

The game had been a trap. Damian was not going to admit defeat so easily... and well, he did want to meet the people his brother chose to occupy his time with. "Of course."

Danny beamed as he led Damian to the hallway window. He pulled it open in a too-smooth way and Damian knew that opening windows from the outside did not work like that. It did not, however, even surprise him at this point.

"They're going to love you," Danny said, right before pain exploded in the back of Damian's head. Then, the world went black.

-

-

-

I've made an executive decision that nights in Gotham are longer than nights in nearby locations. Most people won't notice or will think it's their imagination, Amity kids noticed immediately but shrugged and decided that technically meant they got to sleep in.

I don't think it's actually gonna come up in fic, but like nearly every plot point in Gotham happens at night, and I'm implementing a "magic" system, so Gotham gets quirks.

1. I was gonna have bats find out that Dami did the stab here, but then I realized how much potential there was in Danny just casually mentioning it.

2. Danny figures, he told them what he was, so he's done putting a ridiculous amount of effort into being human.

3. Cliffhanger

4. Why does Ao3 add in automatic spacing in the chapter text but not the notes section? It's weirding me out

Tag list:

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare

#dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #ghosts of our past #grey writes

[theminecraftbee]

i have one more silly bit of - well, okay. this is only sort of joe propaganda. this is a little bit me propaganda too. but for those new to the joe train, new followers who came here from other corners of joe fandom, or, indeed, people who want to read some fic as propaganda in order to sink into the true fandom experience:

hi! i write fic! i have written SEVERAL joe fic! here are some you can look at!

to convey a certain brilliance takes place in an alternate season eight where no one escapes before the moon hits, and joe must claw his way back to rebuilding enough to survive. inspired a bit by super hostile and actually written pre-season 8 finale, back when i thought they wouldn't actually PULL something like this. ah. more naive, good times.

god from the machine is a ficlet i wrote while joe was doing legends arceus stuff, taking place after the game and taking 'that's where joe was between seasons' as canon. god, sidenote? go watch joe's legend arceus streams. those were SUCH good streams. this has nothing to do with the fic just go watch those.

new moon is my inevitable moon's big feelings ficlet i wrote for joe and cleo. that's probably all you need to know.

beetroots is a character study ficlet people like where i have joe and grian have a conversation about the kinds of people they are. i still very much like it.

an empty head is a horror ficlet about what could have been happening while joe lived in cogsmede, given empires!false's memory potions. mind the fact there's a bit of intentionally talked-around, left-to-the-imagination gore in this one.

attempt thirty-three is my most recent proper fic, and it takes place during a slightly alternate 'pre-crossover' timeline where joe becomes trapped in a time loop. it's about a single loop during that time loop, and what joe does within it. i'm still quite proud of this premise and fic, it was an idea i'm glad i did fairly decent justice!

the last days of the free angel of carrows, finally, is a 79k 16-chapter noir-inspired urban fantasy in which joe and cleo together run a supernatural fixer/odd-job agency. when they're approached by pearl moon, a suspicious but extremely wealthy stranger, they take a job that the fate of the city ends up resting upon. if you like angel!joe, urban fantasy, action scenes, jleo friendship, or my usual standard for dumb jokes, this is an excellent longfic to read!

of course, you don't have to read any of these! there are a number of OTHER really good joe writers on ao3, and i encourage them to promo on this themselves! i'm just in a very joe mood and thought some people might also be, and decided to share!

#joehillssweep #a bee fic #...hope you don't mind i'm in the sweep tag this is TECHNICALLY propaganda #like if this fic helps propaganda anyone. i've SUCCEEDED #anyway i don't self-promo that often give me the moment

[fyrefrostanimus]

So I thought about the dumbest idea for a crossover of FNaF and Slay the Princess. It's dumb because there is no actual merging of worlds the player character from StP just fucking Backrooms's into the FNaF universe with all the voices and has to deal with being "the guy who's always in a suspiciously realistic bird fursuit"

I don't even know if I want to involve the actual Princess but I'm really tempted to if only because The Nightmare screaming "WHY ISN'T THIS WORKING?!" while repeatedly tapping a post-scoop Michael on the shoulder would be hilarious

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf au #slay the princess

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 11

Horror Movie Crossover

A few years ago, I was reaaaally into the It movies so I decided to pay homage to that part of my life by making today's entry a crossover between Metalocalypse and It.

I thought the iconic scene where the Losers defeat Pennywise would fit perfectly for this 🤡 Enjoy some clown bullying!

The guys stared at each other with fear and concern, sweat and dirt dripping down their faces. They had always hated him, for pretty mundane reasons, like, you know, the way he spoke and everything he fucking represented. He fucking sucked. They wanted him to die. So the last thing they expected was for him to turn into a huge spider with fucking creepy-looking legs and everything. 

They had never expected that clown to turn into a real monster. But Toki, ignoring everything they said, had given him way too much cocaine and he shapeshifted into his final form or whatever. What kind of stupid movie was this? 

Why were they against that fucking clown?

“Dr. Rockzo wants k-k-k-cocaine!” That stupid asshole clown yelled, crawling closer to them with his disgusting white legs. “Give me cocaine or I’ll k-k-k-eat you alive!”

“We don’t have any more cocaine!” Nathan yelled back. “Toki gave you everything we had!”

“K-k-k-oh, no!” Rockzo feigned sadness before a grin spread across his face. “Guess you’ll have to k-k-k-do!” 

“What does wes does?” Skwisgaar asked, one arm wrapped protectively around an injured Toki. 

When Rockzo started losing control, Toki had tried to calm him down, only to be propelled backwards by one of the cocaine-stained legs of the clown. He was still conscious, but he needed medical attention and fast. 

Pickles shut his eyes, ignoring the piles of dead Klokateers around them. They were on their own now. “Dere’s…dere’s more then one wey to make som’one small.” He said, before opening his eyes again. 

“What?” Murderface grimaced in confusion.

Nathan’s gaze was on the ground, on the rubble at his feet. He frowned, trying to remember. “Make him believe that he is?” He stared at Pickles.

Nodding, Pickles let out a “Yeh” before returning his eyes to Rockzo, determination overcoming fear.

“I’m Rockzo, the rock and roll clown!” He announced sinisterly as he loomed closer. “And I do cocai-”

“Not to us, yer not.” Pickles said. “Yer just a clown.”

Rockzo stood still, taken aback by the response. Seconds after, he tried to go for Nathan, unclenching his jaws to eat him.

“You’re just an annoying clown.” Nathan glared at him.

“The-” Rockzo stammered, then glanced at Skwisgaar, trying to attack him next.

“A useless clowns whats no ones loves!” Skwisgaar exclaimed, his hand gripping Toki’s shoulder.

“Just a dumb whores…” Toki added, with the little strength he had left. 

“A feckin’ creep!” Pickles shouted.

“A good for nothing clown that can’t even make people laugh!” Nathan took a step forward.

“Your muschik fucking schucksch and scho doesch your outfit!” Murderface pointed an accusatory finger.

“K-K-K-No!!!” Rockzo covered his ears in pain, morphing into a bag of cocaine, then a razor, then back to himself. “I do cocaine!”

They briefly glanced at each other. It was working.

“Your voice makes me want to kill myself!”

“Yer a kid diddler!”

“You have no perschonality!”

“Everytime I looks ats you, I wants to frows up!”

“Freak!”

“Failure!”

“Aschole!”

“Uglies!”

“Bad friends!”

“K-K-K-Stop it!” Rockzo cried out, visibly shrinking in size.

“Holy shet, it’s worken’...” Pickles said in shock before shaking his head. “I mean, clown!”

“You’re just a fucking clown!” Nathan yelled.

“A-And we hates you!” Skwisgaar nervously peeked at Toki who seemed to be in and out.

“People are embarrassched to be scheen with you!” Murderface spat.

“Ahh!!” Rockzo shut his eyes, in denial. “Cocaine!”

“Clown!” Pickles gestured at the guys to keep going and, soon enough, they were all repeating it. “Clown! Clown! Clown! Clown! Clown! Clown!”

As they kept their chant, they witnessed thee transformation, amidst cries and pleas from Rockzo. The eight spider legs slowly turned smaller until they disappeared, his torso grew back, his head diminished in size and he acquired his regular limbs. He was human again, naked and covered in some translucid goo. 

“K-K-K-Cocaine…” He bleated pathetically.

“Fucking disgusting.” Nathan commented, grimacing over the sight.

“Kick his ass!” Pickles exclaimed, and it was like a warcry.

At once, they all started delivering kicks at the cokehead, even the wounded Toki. Hearing Rockzo whine in pain was so funny. Especially when he begged them to stop, because it only prompted them to kick him harder.

God, they fucking hated that clown. 

#kloktober2023 #kloktober #metalocalypse #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #dethklok #dr rockzo #it #clowns #no beta we die like men etc #my writing

[thesoftboiledegg]

give me 10 random r&m thoughts, first things that come into your head, rn. i’m mid-s3, on e9

I never thought I'd like Rick because he was the dudebro mascot for years, and he ended up being one of my favorite characters. I was one of those people who (wrongly) assumed that the show is bad just because parts of the fandom are nuts.

I think that season three is the best season, but it's not a personal favorite because it gets a little too dark.

When Dan Harmon was designing Rick, I bet that he never imagined that so many people would be attracted to him, lol. Shouldn't have made him so tall!

It's fascinating to me how the Rick and Morty fandom is huge, but there's only about 6,000 fics on AO3 and it's rare for a fic to get more than 10,000 views. Meanwhile, fics in other fandoms like Hannibal easily break 600,000. I guess some fandoms just don't attract fanfic writers like others do.

I don't consider anything outside the series to be canon and don't read the comics because of it. This isn't just for Rick and Morty--I'm like that with every fandom.

If season one came out today, I think that Rick and Morty would still blow up because science and tech bro culture is bigger than ever. I still see Twitter bros with Rick icons and C-137 in their handles.

Nobody has to like Rick and Morty, but my fellow Adult Swim fans need to stop yelling that it should be canceled. Rick and Morty is probably PAYING for a lot of these series that they enjoy. Adult Swim canceling Rick and Morty doesn't mean that Smiling Friends gets ten seasons and a movie, it means that Smiling Friends goes bye-bye. 👋

People who call Mr. Meeseeks and the butter robot (or the show in general) "cartoon nihilism" have no clue what they're talking about. First off, they're talking about existential nihilism, not just nihilism, and second, life isn't meaningless for Mr. Meeseeks or the butter robot. They're created for a specific purpose, and they fulfill it. That's the opposite of existential nihilism. Admittedly, I think the writers were aiming for nihilism and didn't really understand it, either.

Rick isn't a sociopath and Morty isn't dumb, and I wish the marketing would stop selling them that way. I never understood where "Morty is dumb" comes from because he keeps up with Rick pretty well.

Rick and Morty is the only fandom where I've made OCs. Normally, I don't care for OCs/crossovers/AUs because I'm attached to canon, so--why would I read about an OC hanging out at a coffee shop or whatever? But Rick and Morty is a little different because an infinite number of Ricks, Mortys and other characters exist in the show. For me, Rick having a sister would be a true OC.

#ask #rick and morty #dan harmon #rick sanchez #morty smith