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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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doctor who but i've never watched it

and so it begins again. the people asked for it. the people got it. i will ensure the people regret it.

i have never watched this show, or seen an edit, but i am a thorough researcher and i feel that i've got the essence of it.

this is what i have gathered. academicians worldwide take note.

Firstly, so I don't anger anyone, I accept and acknowledge that the tardis is blue and not yellow. My misinformation was from a Drarry fanfiction, and I had hitherto regarded Drarry fanfiction as the absolute truth.

There are doctors, and there are at least fifteen of them. At least two of them are David Tennant, which I can respect.

I'm not sure why the doctors are doctors, because I can find no trace of any medical procedure except for one doctor who licks things, which he learned from the previous doctor. If this is sufficient reason, I apologise for doubting their credentials.

On the other hand, if they are doctors thanks to a postdoctoral degree, this is also fine, though I have never seen anyone study anything. There is however a doctor, and there were people upset about her, but the fandom pointed out she set the tardis on fire, which is apparently a very doctor thing to do. Setting things on fire is absolutely something any research scholar would love, so again, apologies for doubting their credentials.

At least one doctor is gay. It is probably one of the David doctors, which checks out. He says someone, I think a dentist, is hot. I envy the maybe-dentist.

A t least one doctor is trans. I was unable to find them. But they exist. Oh yes, the fandom assures me they exist.

David Tennant as well as Ncuti Gatwa were fanboys, first of the show, and second of David Tennant, and thus they got into acting. Just a fun tidbit from me, since I am now the authority on this fandom.

There are time machines with which the doctors have sex by piloting them, which is questionable because the time machines are only partially sentient. I am not sure if the time machines are the tardis. But the tardis is blue, and not yellow, of that I am certain.

There was a stage play. Or maybe that was a metaphor for the production budget of the early seasons. I am not sure, but toddler David Tennant watched it. I assume no one took a 3 year old to a stage play, so through scientific deduction, it must have been a metaphor.

At some point, Death is an agony aunt and they have to spill secrets to it, or drown in a lake of human skulls. Who is this they? It's so obvious that the fandom sees no need to explain it, and neither do I. I do know it though. Of that you may remain certain.

A David doctor has a niece and she likes being his niece.

A David doctor has a best friend named Donna. He kisses her head. She supports his fruitiness. It is wholesome. It killed him when he lost her.

Slight tangent, but younger David doctor looks like Andrew Garfield. Current David in photos does give Ben Barnes energy. Any Wolfstar shippers, I believe you've found the Wolfstar kid. It is David Tennant.

A lot of people are David Tennant. A reliable Pinterest post on Doctor Who, clearly well researched, gave me the statistic that 15% of Doctor Who is David Tennant. From the amount of David Tennant that I ran across in my research, I don't understand it but I don't doubt it, either.

Speaking of Andrew Garfield, he in involved in this somehow. I am not sure how, but you cannot escape Andrew Garfield. He is even a part of fandoms he never acted in.

There is an individual named Catherine, I think she is the actress, but she could be a character. She seems to have much less knowledge about Doctor Who lore than I do. David Tennant finds it funny. Maybe he would find me funny, too.

The doctors installed some things in the tardis, from a wheelchair ramp to a jukebox. I don't know why a jukebox was needed. If I'm honest I don't know what a jukebox is. I don't know what the tardis is. But it is blue, and not yellow.

There is a French catchphrase.

Something happens in Wales. I don't know what it is, but something always seems to be happening in Wales in these fandoms, so I don't doubt it.

There is an old Doctor Who in a wheelchair, and he is happy to see a David doctor.

They go around in space, and do things. Who is this they? You and I both know the answer, so we needn't talk about it.

The show intro is "doo wee doo".

There is an alien who is not a mouse, the alien is The Meep, and uses the definite article as pronouns. David doctor is supportive of this, which is very good.

I found baby Yoda in the show, but apparently they call it a 'goblin' there, and someone doesn't like it.

There is a lot to do with time. There is a time hole, and things happen, and people die and are resurrected. There is danger, but it is fun.

They have CGI, and it is not good, which is the best thing about it. Who is they? Please stop asking me. It is rather obvious and something I definitely know.

Someone's boyfriend dies and the boyfriend is then resurrected but then gets lost with his boyfriend but then is reincarnated as a girl who would still call herself the someone's boyfriend but then she is replaced by the boyfriend but he's different now. I apologise for any errors that have crept it, but the tardis is blue and not yellow.

Someone named Martha is a doctor, and someone is very proud of her for it.

The eleventh and twelfth doctors like bow ties.

David Tennant wants to be ginger. David Tennant always gets what he wants. Who can refuse David Tennant? David Tennant is then ginger.

A David doctor gets a happy ending.

Someone yelled at Neil Gaiman about this. It was a mistake. He said that since it had already been done, he wouldn't want to give David's character a happy ending in S3, that would be a trifle unoriginal.

A lesson to be learned, Good Omens fandom, just a bit of advice from your son, do not yell at Neil Gaiman, it does not go well. Rumour has it he murdered the people who complained about him always wearing black. Of course, there is the fact that he doesn't exist, but that doesn't seem to have stopped him.

The doctors manifest in the previous doctor's clothes, which is apparently so last season. The tardis also manifests. I don't know where, or how. But it is blue, and not yellow.

I know, there was a lot of lore, so many of you thought I wouldn't be able to gather it all. But look how much research I did! I've got it better than maybe-actress-maybe-character Catherine, I'm sure :"]

Anyway, all the major plot points are covered above, so anyone who hasn't watched Doctor Who, feel free to refer to this and impress your Whovian friends with your knowledge! [not to be judgemental, but what a dreadfully Dr Seuss name, I rather like it]

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saby-chan · 3 years

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Why the ATLA comics fail when it comes to Zuko and his family

To whom ever took their time to actually stop and read this post, thank you in advance for not skipping my post and willing to stay and read my humble opinion! I hope I won’t disappoint you!

As a relatively newcomer to the ATLA fanbase since 2020, I’ve come across a lot of interesting debates, comments and rants about the show, characters and fandom in general, but nothing has captivated me as much as the dumpster-on-fire that are the ATLA comics, more specifically: The Promise and The Search.

On one hand we have the hardcore fans who want them to be animated or serialized into the Netflix live action, praising the comics for the new views and subject matters they’ve brought into the show’s lore, while on the other hand we have the furious Azula fandom who is really angry for the fact that best girl didn’t get the redemption arc she rightfully deserved so much after the painful event that was the Last Agni Kai and the even more angry fans of the Urzai ship (yeah, the people who actually ship Zuko’s parents unironically) who hated the retconning of the show’s cannon since the comics basically took a huge fat dump on what was previously established as official cannon, when the Search entered the scene, but between these two sides, who has the more valid point? In the end, are the comics good cannon or bad written fanfiction?

Well... Here are my two cents on this matter since I myself happen to be an Azula and Zuko fan and had huge expectations from these comics (since I wanted more from my fave hot-headed fiery siblings duo) but ended up disappointed: the comics are indeed a huge mess and actually bad written fanfiction when it comes to Zuko and his family! Don’t click off yet, because I actually documented the reasons why exactly the comics fail in this area:

1. The author of these comics is not part of the BryKe duo

Yes, I would like to start with the fact that if you actually take a second to look up who in the heck took the time to write these two books, you won’t find Bryan, nor Mike, but a fellow man named Gene Yang. This is important because while the wiki of both The Promise and The Search state BryKe as the creators, that doesn’t mean that they were the actual minds behind these comics, but rather because ATLA is their “baby” and these comics involve their characters, over which they have copyright. Mr. Yang here is the actual brain behind the plot, as the main writer, which explains why we find huuuuge inconsistencies between the show lore and the comics, especially Zuko wise.

My main issue with Mr. Yang isn’t that he isn’t BryKe specifically, but because he did an unforgivable mistake in his writing process: He projected himself into Zuko’s character, based on the relationship Zuko had with his father. This is a documented fact from an interview in which he explains that he sees himself and his dad’s relationship into Zuko and Ozai and used that when writing their interactions and built Zuko’s character in the comics. And this is wrong because when you have an already very developed and complex character such as Zuko, you can’t just come in and be like “Oh, I was an angsty teen just like him in my teenage years, fighting with my dad and whatnot, so he must have the same thought process as me!”. NO! This is bad fanfiction writer behavior! Zuko has his own personality and philosophy, which he developed over the course of 3 seasons and is not defined by only 1 unfortunate aspect of his past, so you can’t just base his whole mindset and actions off of your own personal experience just because you had the same daddy issues he had!

2. The whole “Promise that you will kill me if I turn out like my dad!” nonsense in The Promise

Reason number 2 why these comics fail and go under the category of “bad fanfiction” is because they fail to convey the core essence of the source material. The whole point of Zuko’s redemption was that he realized the wrongdoings of his ancestors and his own mistakes. He outgrew his desire of gaining his father’s acknowledgement in favor of choosing his own destiny. Having him worry that he’ll turn into his father is utter nonsense and feels like poor angsty drama material for the sake of angst. At this point in time, Zuko has overcame that obstacle in his life a long time ago and should be at the level where he himself is the “Uncle Iroh” for other people and in no way someone concerned of becoming their own worst enemy!

Not only that, but the whole point of Aang’s journey and the story of the show as a whole was to teach us, the viewers, the importance of forgiveness, empathy and love in life. Aang didn’t spare Ozai, aka “the ultimate evil” just to flex in front of his pals or because he is a “ 12 y/o vegan pacifist monk kid”, but because he knew that killing someone, no matter of what they did or wanted to do, wouldn’t restore balance into the Universe, on the contrary, him killing the villain would have meant perpetuating the “endless cycle of hate” that plagued the world. So having Aang promise to kill his best friend in case “they turned into an evil maniac like their dad” contradicts Aang’s whole character and it’s a nonsense that throws into the trash what we’ve learnt throughout the entire TV series.

3. Azula deserved (and was supposed) to have a redemption ark

This might still be pure speculation, but I count it as a documented reason because I’ve heard quite a few people saying that there should’ve been a book 4 in the show, aka “Book 4: Air”, and no, it wasn’t The Search, but actually Zuko and Azula’s journey as Zuko helps his younger sister heal her broken mind by being her very own “Uncle Iroh”. Sure, they prolly were going to end up looking for Ursa, but the journey should’ve ended with them actually being happy and a family again and not the bs we got in The Search where a still very unstable Azula runs away and becomes the “Next Joker”! The only problem is that M. Night had to pop up and curse the world with his movie, which forced BryKe to delay the project (and eventually abandoned it in favor of Korra).

All in all, either if BryKe had this preplanned or not, it made sense for Azula to get a redemption ark, she deserved it because she was just a broken 14 y/o child! If Katara’s mom’s murderer deserved to be forgiven, so did this poor child who had no fault for what happened to her since she had a dysfunctional family! What Gene Yang did in his poorly written fanfiction was to just antagonize a broken child, turning her into a monster for the sake of friggin angst!

4. The Search is the worst of the two, being flat af character wise

And finally, getting to the point that I personally find the most annoying about these comics: The Search. This one... This one is a mess on a hella lot many levels, and just to list a few: characters are flat as fudge, being either black as vanta black (like Ozai and Azula) or pure white like Gene’s Gary Stue OC, Mr Ikem (or how I like to call him, IKEA man) and his ‘victim’ rendition of Ursa, Azula gets to suffer more for no reason (see reason number 3 to why I find this as a no no), Ursa’s whole character sucks ass (man, I could write a whole thesis on why Yang’s version of her is terrible and doesn’t match the strong woman we got in the show) and Zuko does morally wrong stuff (my man literally used his unstable sister to bribe their dad into spitting info about Ursa... Show Zuko would never do that!;-;)

Oh boy, as a person who’s seen a ton of anime and other media and read many books, I can’t begin on how much I despise this type of writing: flat characters are the worst!

ATLA characters in the show are nothing close to being flat! What I mean by that is that none of them fall perfectly into pure white (aka goodest of good characters with no imperfections) or vanta black (aka lowest and darkest twisted monsters out there), each of them are various shades of grey (like Aang who is a very light grey because despite being a very kind and nice character, he still isn’t a “perfect hero” since he ran away from his duties, practiced tax fraud with Toph, had insecurities and even threatened to kill people on ocassions like with the sand benders who took Appa) and this is a good choice because that prevents them from becoming what’s globally known as Mary Sues and Gary Stues (aka those either “perfect” characters with no flaws and/or unlimited power, or the twisted monsters full of flaws).

And the other reason why many other people hate The Search: it literally negates previously established cannon. And here comes my short essay on why this comic fails Zuko’s family (since we’ve already talked enough about Zuko himself).

In cannon and even interviews with BryKe, it was clearly stated that Zuko’s family was “once happy”. Where is this “once happy” family in The Search? All I see is pain, deception, lies and betrayal, nothing close to anything that resembles happiness. Okay, some of you might come in and say that “It’s because it was never the case! It was only lies and Zuko trying to convince himself that he didn’t live in hell forever!” and here is WHERE YOU WERE ALL WRONG! And why? Because, my dear fella, where were depicted the flashbacks of Zuko’s “happy family” in The Beach? Ember Island. And what do we know and had been even quoted in the show? "Like waves washing away the footprints on the sand, Ember Island gives everyone a clean slate. Ember Island reveals the true you." (direct quote from the show). Exactly, no matter who you are or how hard you try, you can’t hide your true self when you are on the Ember Island, best example being Azula, who’s impenetrable though shell cracked and revealed the true vulnerable child that was underneath. If Azula couldn’t resist the “spell of the island”, no one can. So this means that Zuko’s family was indeed happy once and yes, Ozai wasn’t always the douchebag we got to know in Season 3 (I have a whole nother essay on my theories regarding what could be his real past story and why he’s actually the “Zuko” of his generation, based on stuff I gathered from old wiki entries and character analyses I made, but that’s for another time, lemme know if ya’ll are interested).

And what I guess is the biggest proof why The Search did this family’s past trash is comics Ursa herself. My dude, if this woman were indeed the victim of years of endless abuse and never loved her husband, I guarantee you that she would’ve been closer to what we saw in Todoroki’s mom from BNHA and Zuko would’ve gotten that scar or even worse long before the Agni Kai, not from his “daddy dearest”, but from “mommy dearest” herself, because no sane woman would be soo affectionate and attached to a child that’s the perfect copy of their abuser, sepecially appearance wise (again see Todoroki’s mom’s case from BNHA because the stories are really similar) and in no way would’ve she been willing to sacrifice her life for said child’s sake. With this ocassion, I remind ya’ll folks that according to the ancient ATLA cannon wikis on Nick’s site, Ozai was designed with Zuko’s appearance in mind, being meant to be like a “grown up scarless version” of Zuko. So yeah, remember this with a grain of salt that whenever you simp over grown up Zuko, you involuntary simp for Ozai too.

So yeah, I guess this kinda concludes my “not so short” rant about why the comics fail and are bad fanfiction. Lemme hear your thoughts in the comments and if you agree, feel free to leave a like and even reblog.

Bye bye and remember that Momo is the true strongest character of the show!

Saby out.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla comics #zuko #azula #ozai #ursa #fire siblings #the promise #the search #atla rant

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wishingstarinajar · 3 years

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I am going to ramble a bit but I will hide it under a cut because it's a bit long. It will be about the previous fandom I was active in around two years ago and how it affects me to this day. It's also about popularity and putting others on a pedestal.

If this sort of ramble isn't up your alley then feel very free to skip over this post! I don't mind. If you want to read more about it, just check under the cut.

The Franchise And Its Creators

====

THE FRANCHISE AND ITS CREATORS Around mid-2014, I joined the Wakfu and Dofus fandoms, a small-ish fandom as a whole but popular in certain circles.

For those who don't know, Wakfu and Dofus are (online, console, mobile, figurine, card and board) games, comics, animated series, specials and movies created by a French studio named Ankama. These two franchises are intertwined with each other as they play out in the same universe but in different timelines. I myself dabbled around in the animated part of the fandom; I was a huge fan of the two series and the Dofus movie.

There was very little catering to the international part of the fandom when it came to the studio's attention and interactions. There were no English dubs or subtitles; international fans had to rely on English fan subtitles on ripped/pirated episodes of the show and movie, same for the franga/comics. Merch was hard to get. A lot of articles related to the shows and whatnot were in French only, which is understandable because it is a French-made product. But there's no denying that the international fanbase felt a little neglected back then.

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MY FANDOM JOURNEY

Because I was very interested in the lore of both franchises, I had to do a lot of digging and translating to be able to fully indulge in it all. I went full in! I dug deep, created OCs, art and also tried to write fanfiction. I also shared news and info about the series and movie; I ran a fan blog dedicated to sharing things with the international part of the fandom. I was also often approached about lore, particularly for a few of the canon characters and one of the races that play a role in the Wakfu franchise; the Eliatropes. It was fun, it felt good to help other fans out, it was nice to make friends and be creative with others about similar things.

Eventually, the character and art theft began. We all know this is a 'normal' part of fandoms, so I won't hammer too long on it. My issue with it was the fact that my main OC, a female Eliatrope, gathered a lot of attention because female Eliatropes were a rarity in the Wakfu franchise. They existed but didn't get a moment in the limelight, except for one that even received her own game (Islands of Wakfu) but it was so obscure that a lot of fans didn't know about its existence. My OC was somehow mistaken as canon by plenty of folks and many others started to use her as a template to create their own (female) Eliatrope OC. I didn't mind, as long as they weren't straight-up copies and I tried to be supportive by answering lore questions and give feedback whenever it was asked for it (which happened a lot). Of course, copying and theft happened more often than not; over the five years I was part of the fandom, I sent out almost a hundred DMCA reports for art and character theft (like true theft; I could handle some similarities or one-time occurrences). One particular case went to the extreme but I won't beat that dead horse any further; it brought me enough misery to last me half a lifetime, that's all I'll say on it. I kept a lot of the negative experiences behind closed doors and dealt with a lot of it quietly to not bother, worry or burden anyone else with any of it. I wanted a positive and supporting environment for my followers, even if the truth wasn't as pretty.

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ANKAMA'S STRUGGLE

Over the years, studio Ankama increased attempts to cater more to the international fanbase of its animated properties (articles in English, English dubs and subtitles, etc). However, the studio's struggle to garner the attention of international supporters (aka companies and sponsors) didn't go too smoothly, and to make matters worse, they were also struggling with finding a platform in France to broadcast the Wakfu series on after wishing to take a different and more mature direction. Ankama wanted more freedom with the Wakfu show, like less censorship, a serial rather than episodic, and it not being aimed at a young audience like its previous contractor demanded Wakfu to be. Ankama even turned to crowdfunding to get certain projects (like new Wakfu seasons) off the ground and let's just say that those crowdfunding projects are best described as tiny dumpster fires; they weren't pretty to watch. The first one was a disaster with plenty of displeased backers and the following crowdfunding attempts often didn't meet the end goal due to bad past experiences or the lack of interest.

Luckily, Netflix breathed some life into the international Wakfu fandom, which was great! But it was still received badly (mostly due to the awful English dub and sound mixing of the first two seasons and special) that the third season Netflix made possible was not getting the attention it deserved. It was also a rushed product due to financial and time constraints on Ankama's part. Netflix eventually declined a fourth season and it all fell a bit apart from there. Ankama turned to crowdfunding once more to try and make season 4 a reality. Last time I checked (which was quite a while ago), it did decently enough to make season 4 a reality. (Please don't ask me about it, I don't know anything about it.)

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THE PEDESTAL

While all this was happening behind the scenes, I was starting to struggle with the reputation I built up in the Wakfu and Dofus fandom over the few years I was a part of it. The best way to describe it is that I had grown exhausted.

Aside from dealing with the theft and answering people's questions daily, I wanted to be treated as an average fan but I kept getting put on a pedestal. People went as far as to call me by titles (like lady Wish and miss Wish) more often than not. To be called and treated as such made me feel alienated, like as if I wasn't considered real. I often asked to just be called Wish, no titles/formalities required, and that I wasn't as 'popular' as they believed, but the majority of the people didn't seem to listen. People were either afraid or refused to interact with me because they considered me 'too popular', or simply wanted nothing but my validation, feedback and/or free art. I also had my fair share of haters and people that didn't approve of my 'status' in the fandom. Join the club xD I wasn't very happy with it either.

I really started to dislike being called 'popular' because it had such a bad impact on the people around me (and my own mental wellbeing). Friends started to become jealous of the attention I garnered and it dragged me down every time. At times, it would turn toxic. It was never my intention to make my friends feel like they meant less because they surely didn't. To learn that they believed others were only friends with them or only looked at their art/writing because they were good friends with me hurt so much. It still does. I refuse to believe that was fully true because I was (and still am!) surrounded by very creative people and they all deserved as much attention as I was getting, at times more. I wish others saw it that way too.

I was also heavily chained down thanks to the role (model) I played in the fandom. Too many people (especially young ones) looked up to me and there were a lot of expectations that I felt forced to meet. I started to lose the energy for it, but if I dared to stray a little from the path, the pitchforks and torches would come out. It was very restricting.

In the end, I felt stuck. Things started to grow toxic. There was a point where I began to dislike the franchise because of the bad feelings it brought me. I couldn't even get myself to watch the series or movie anymore. I focused less and less on the canon side of things and more on my own ideas, which was one of the only comforts I really had left in the fandom. I started to shut myself off, which upset a lot of people. I am sorry for that, I wish it didn't happen that way but I was at my wits' end.

When I realized and also accepted that I was no longer enjoying myself with canon or fanon, I knew I had to move on or stuff would end badly. It was a very tough realization and decision to accept and make; I literally dedicated five years of my life to the fandom. I spent hours a day digging for info and news to translate and share, doing 'research' for my fanfics, answering questions, and whatnot. I truly lived the fandom day in and out. It was the first fandom I ever actively participated in to this degree. What the heck was I going to do without that?

====

THE NOW

Abandoning the fandom was a scary step to take but not one I regret. I left the Wakfu and Dofus fandom behind me in late 2019. I feel freer now and so much happier. I no longer have the burden of expectations, being a lore guide or be forced to portray a certain role model weighing me down. I am no longer on that f*cking pedestal. I can finally explore interests that aren't exactly child-friendly without a big part of my following pummeling me down for it. (Don't worry, I always try my best to keep it in the appropriate places.)

Do I still like Wakfu/Dofus and all the stuff I've created with it? Yes, I do but I also want nothing more to do with it. Aside from the friends I've made there and also stuck around on my new adventures, I left the fandom behind me.

I still get approached at times about how my Wakfu OC, art and writing inspired someone and ask me if I could give them feedback for their own ideas or give them advice/information on Wakfu/lore. I am extremely humbled by it every time. It's great to see someone feeling inspired and be creative. However, I've moved on. I've left interacting with the Wakfu/Dofus fandom and fan-made stuff far behind me. I haven't touched it for almost two years and it shows on all the social media I share my art and writing on. I at times wish people could be considerate about the fact that I moved on but I also know and understand that not everyone knows my reasoning or my side of the story. I try not to be too harsh on it.

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MY ADVICE

I don't hate anyone for how things turned out; a lot of it was my own doing by not saying no or taking a stronger stand.

It did teach me a lot of things, especially about caring for my own well-being and putting others on pedestals. Please be mindful when you treat someone like others treated me before; it's not healthy, for yourself and the person you put on that high pedestal. Take everything in moderation and consideration, that's all. Everyone's human, everyone has feelings, and everyone deserves a sense of being. Even your favorite artists and content creators. Don't treat them like an otherwordly being that you have to worship.

In turn, if a fandom or something you enjoyed is making you unhappy nowadays, you owe it to yourself to make or find a change. Be good to yourself, always!

Thanks to anyone who read through this ramble. I needed to get this off my chest. I am not asking for advice, neither pity or whatever else. I just wanted to share my thoughts on past experiences because I have a feeling others might be going through something similar.

Thank you again, please take care.

#wish talks #wish rambles #edited with some format fixes

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shield-sheafson · 4 years

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Chapters: ¼ Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown Additional Tags: Found Family, Fluff, Light Angst, Homelessness, Cass knows like 8 words rip, slight crime, Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain meet earlier, Cassandra Cain and Jason Todd are Siblings, but not blood siblings in this just two kids who adopted each other, street siblings au Summary:

Professional street urchin Jason Todd is struck by an uneasy feeling and suspects someone is following him. That someone is former child assassin Cassandra Cain, who, with nowhere else to go, is taking a leap of faith.

—

This is my take on the Street Siblings AU by @a-sketchy-character! I told them earlier that I’d write something for it, so here I am owning up! Of course, you can read their comic based on this au @streetsiblings. Of course, @greytoiletpaper also wrote one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100699/chapters/66175306) and Experimental_Muse wrote this one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037882). Go check them out! Since this is such a popular concept, I hope I do a good job.

—

Jason pops another M&M into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue instead of chewing it. He has no idea why someone would throw away a perfectly good bag of candy, but he’s not going to think too hard about it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he can feel the strength coming back into his limbs. He feels less sleepy, too.

He tucks the empty bag into the pocket of his frayed jeans, already regretting finishing them. Now that he’s eaten something, what else is he going to do with his day? He hasn’t found any cigarettes, which is a pain, since it’s so cold that his nose feels numb and he could really use some warm smoke to fill up his aching lungs.

Maybe he’ll go to the library. He’s still too small to kick out for loitering, right? Just as he turns to leave the alley, Jason feels a shiver run up his spine. He whips around, raising his fists defensively. Nobody’s there. This doesn’t calm him down. Jason squints as he peers into the dark, wet alley, looking for any sign of movement.

“Hey,” he says in the deepest, roughest voice he can muster. “Think good and hard about what you’re about to do, buddy.”

What is the invisible person about to do? Jason isn’t sure, but he wants them to think good and hard about it. He hears a scuffle and nearly jumps out of his skin only to realize that it’s just a rat migrating from beneath the dumpster to a pile of cardboard boxes.

“What are you playing?” Jason asks. This voice is making his throat hurt. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Nobody answers. Jason weighs his options and decides that the best choice is to make a run for it. He nearly slips on a patch of slush in his haste to get out of the alley. Even when he’s a safe two blocks away he still has an uneasy feeling.

—

A couple of hours later, Jason has shaken off that gross feeling and has settled down outside the 7-11. He used to go here a lot– when his mom was around, it was where they got their groceries. Sometimes she’d splurge and they would split a can of Yoohoo. Even though he doesn’t have any money to go in with, something about the worn bricks and the smoky smell is comforting.

A gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes and a scraggly gray beard joins him, sitting gingerly on the damp ground.

“Afternoon,” he says cordially.

“It’s dark out,” Jason says. He’s not sure what time it actually is. Days and nights tend to blur together. They’re basically the same, though nights tend to be more dangerous.

“Damned if it isn’t,” the man says. “What’s a kid doing out this late?”

“Anywhere else I’m supposed to be?” Jason asks, scowling.

“Just askin’, just askin’,” the man says, raising his palms. “I’d just get somewhere safe if I was you. Some guy’s been– what?”

“What?” Jason repeats after him. “What’s going on?”

“Just thought I… It’s not safe for kids out there lately, is all I’m sayin’.”

Jason sighs and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, dragging down the edge of his hoodie. “Is it that big a deal?” It’s never really safe out there, but he’s always gotten by fine. “You’re not a kid, so you’re fine.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a little empathy,” the man says.

Jason rolls his eyes and walks off to find another place to lurk.

—

It happens the next day, too. Jason has the unpleasant feeling of eyes on his back when he covertly removes a woman’s wallet from her purse and he’s certain someone is about to yell “Stop! Thief!” but nobody does.

When he walks proudly out of McDonald’s with a bag of french fries bought will ill-gotten money, he expects someone to ask for one. Of course, he would have said “no,” but it’s almost disappointing when there’s nobody to answer. He’s not disappointed enough to be really put-off, though. He still stuffs his face wholeheartedly.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid.

—

Jason has been sleeping rough lately. The condemned buildings are already full of squatters, and he knows better than to accept “help” from people who offer couches to young boys. With nowhere inside to sleep, he’s been hiding from the sleet in a cardboard shelter he built in an out-of-view area between buildings and lined with newspaper.

Of course, it’s not usually safe to build a fire when your whole house is so flammable, but he’s risking it tonight. He has a pile of yet more cardboard and newspaper on the other side of the alley, but it’s damp and he’s having a rough time getting it to set alight.

“Come on,” he mutters as he clicks the lighter yet again. It’s a nice one (his mother had liked it a lot) but it doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Jason curses under his breath as the edge of the funnies page smolders and blackens without actually catching fire. Garfield stares at him judgmentally. That’s when he hears it.

A light “thump,” soft but unmistakable. Jason’s head snaps up. He’s afraid to turn and look. At best, it’s another bum looking to share his fire. At worst, it’s…

“What are you looking at?” he says harshly, still not turning his head. “Go find somewhere else.”

The presence at his back doesn’t go away. He feels frozen in place– he’ll admit it, he’s afraid. He knows someone has been following him. He doesn’t know who or why. He hasn’t had a moment where it’s not on his mind, and now his mysterious pursuer is right behind him. His only option is to protect himself.

Jason very slowly reaches into his pocket for the worn switchblade he’s carried since he was nine. His hand trembles as he wraps his fingers around the cold handle.

A hand is laid on his shoulder. He shoots up, pulling the knife out of his pocket and spinning around to face the person behind him.

Before he’s able to do anything a small, strong hand wraps around his wrist, stopping the freed knife in its path. His arm is yanked forward and a palm is shoved under his chin, forcing his face up. He just stands that way for a second, too shocked to move. His opponent doesn’t try to do anything else; they just keep him stuck with his chin pushed up and his arm stretched out, knife useless.

Slowly, cautiously, the hand under his chin lowers, though the grip on his wrist is still tight. He gets a good look at the person who’s apparently decided to hold him hostage.

They’re a kid. They’re (she’s) a little girl, much shorter than him, with big, serious eyes and a mouth covered by a heavy scarf.

“You’re really small,” he says through the hand that’s still partly covering his mouth. “What the fuck.”

She assesses him, eyes darting from his face to his free hand to his battered shoes. Slowly, she loosens her grip and lets go of his chin, releasing him. She takes a step back, body tense and ready to attack or dart away at any second.

Jason clicks his blade back into its case and slides the knife back into his pocket, not looking away from the girl’s face. She has dirty black hair that hangs in her eyes and thick brows. Her nose is delicate and rounded. If she hadn’t just had him in a painful hold, he would have assumed she was harmless.

“Why have you been following me around?” he asks. She doesn’t answer. “What do you want from me?” Again, no answer. Jason sighs (a puff of mist from his mouth). “I’m Jason.” He holds out his hand. Hesitantly, she grips it. Her hand is cold and thin. She still doesn’t say anything.

The girl lets go of his hand and points to the lighter on the ground. It glints at him in greeting.

“What?” Jason asks.

The girl squats on the ground and retrieves the lighter. She hands it to him and points at the pile of cardboard and newspaper.

“Wanna make a fire?” he asks. “There’s garbage in there, so it’ll stink.”

She doesn’t nod. She just points again expectantly.

“'Kay,” Jason says. “Can you talk at all?”

The girl doesn’t respond. Jason shrugs and crouches by his fire heap. The girl plops back on her bottom and crosses her legs.

It takes a while to get it to light. It’s a little embarrassing failing again and again with someone there to watch. Finally, one of the dryer pieces of paper goes alight and spreads to one of the bigger pieces of cardboard.

“See? It does work!” Jason says. Does he sound defensive? “It usually works fine,” he adds. This doesn’t make him any less embarrassed. He puts the lighter in his pocket with the switchblade and holds his hands out, taking in the heat. The girl pulls down her scarf. In the flickering light, he can see she’s smiling at him. She holds out her hands too, and they sit in silence for some time.

—

Jason realizes he’s awake before his eyes open. He’s aware again that his nose and fingers are cold and the back of his hair is wet from the damp concrete. His eyes flicker open and he sees that it’s daytime, pale gray and foggy. He rolls over, realizing with some consternation that he’s not even in his box hut. Anybody could have come and gotten him while he was asleep. He’s lucky they didn’t. He shouldn’t be so– what.

Someone is a few feet away from him, sitting up with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, looking at him thoughtfully.

Jason scrambles backward, scraping his hands on the rough concrete. He bumps his head on the brick wall behind him. It seems that the bricks knock some sense into him because suddenly the events of last night come back to him and he feels like an idiot.

“What are you doing?” he asks, rubbing his head.

The girl scoots over to him and pats his shoulder. Ah. She’s still not talking. Jason sits up straight. He pats her shoulder back. She smiles.

“So, do you just want to hang around here?” Jason asks, even though he knows she won’t answer. “In this alley?”

The girl just looks at him. This is starting to get frustrating.

“Just– just stay, I guess,” Jason says, standing. He points at the ground. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go get something to eat.”

He backs out of the alleyway, raising his palms as though he’s trying to calm a wild animal. He turns around when he’s certain that she’s staying. He puts his hands in his pockets and releases a breath of relief. Something about that girl makes him nervous. What’s her game? Is she just stupid? He wraps his fingers around the lighter and somehow feels a little more secure.

Jason settles outside a coffee shop and crosses his legs. Dozens of people walk right past him, ignoring his grubby face as they head to work.

“Hey, miss,” Jason says, making eye contact with a woman in a blue pantsuit. An almost fearful look falls on her face as she realizes she’s been wrangled into an interaction with him. “Got a dollar?”

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t carry change.” She scurries off, nearly slipping in her high heels on the icy sidewalk.

“'Scuse me,” Jason says to the lady with the corgi on a leash. “That’s a cute dog you have there.”

“Thank you,” the lady says apprehensively. She walks a little faster.

“Wait!” Jason says. “Can I pet him?”

“S-sure,” the lady says. She turns and walks the dog up to Jason. It smiles stupidly at him. Jason stretches his hand out and it sniffs him with its wet nose. Jason rubs it between the ears. Even though this is for selfish reasons, he appreciates its attention.

“Can you spare seventy cents?” Jason asks. “For a bottle of water?”

The lady, with nowhere to escape to, reaches into her purse, takes out a dollar, and drops it into Jason’s open hand. Jason thanks her sweetly. When she walks away, he can’t hide his shit-eating grin.

Jason manages to gather up seven dollars before the coffee shop’s manager comes out and says “scram.” Jason smiles appeasingly as he leaves. He knows better than to get in a fight with someone without holes in their shoes.

At the convenience store, Jason buys an energy drink and a hot dog, like usual. Then he remembers someone is waiting for him and adds a plastic-wrapped breakfast sandwich. He’s wondering whether the stupid girl is a coffee person when the cashier starts giving him suspicious looks, so he grabs another Red Bull and pays quickly.

It’s kind of nice shopping for someone else. Even if it’s a little sad to think about the last time he was shopping for two. He whistles quietly as he walks through the glass door when– oops.

“Watch where you’re going!” he snaps.

The girl steps back and smiles apologetically.

“Oh… It’s you.” The door swings shut behind Jason. “I’d ask you to stop following me, but I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”

The girl tilts her head. Maybe she does understand? Whatever.

He gestures for her to follow him. The convenience store people don’t like it when he hangs out right by the door. It creeps out the customers.

There aren’t as many people on the sidewalk anymore; they’ve all gone on with their days. Jason notices that the girl skips a little on her shorter legs to keep up with him. She isn’t wearing socks, he realizes. That can’t be good in this weather.

They stop to sit on the front steps of the law office. Jason pulls the food out of his plastic grocery bag and hands the sandwich to the girl. She takes it gratefully. He takes out his hot dog and realizes that the jostling while he was walking has deconstructed it. He shrugs.

“I’m guessing you’re new around here,” Jason says. “You’re not supposed to just latch on to people.”

The girl starts tearing greedily into her sandwich.

“I do pretty well on my own. I’m not gonna babysit you, you know.”

She nods. Again, Jason isn’t sure she’s taking in what he’s saying.

“Seriously. You can’t hang out with me. I’m busy.”

She smiles. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I like being alone.”

The sandwich is gone. She points to his hot dog.

“I mean, I guess,” he says, handing it to her. She looks at it for a second. A guilty expression falls on her face and she hands it back. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Cassandra,” she says.

“Wait, you can talk?”

“Jason,” she says, patting his shoulder.

The snow is dirty, but the sun glints off it prettily. Jason hates to admit it, but he’s in a pretty good mood right now.

#batman #dcu #jason todd #cassandra cain #street siblings au #dc #me writing

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the-fusionist · 4 years

Text

Jasonette July: First Meetings

A/N: Hello, I’m back at writing again! I suck at commitment, but I’m going to do my best to follow up with the stories for this event. Hope you all enjoy! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list!

HERE I GO:

If Marinette had to rate her time in Gotham so far on a scale of one to ten, it would probably be a 4 or 5. The reason she had moved to the United States was for college, having been accepted into Gotham University.

It was amazing to have a change in scenery after the defeat of Hawkmoth. Her and Adrien became good friends after realizing who the other was, and she knew that there wasn’t really a chance of a romantic relationship with Adrien now. He was with Kagami, and she really had no right to come between them. Besides, a long-distance relationship would be difficult to maintain.

Adrien had given up his miraculous after finding out who Hawkmoth was. He didn’t really want to have anything to do with the miraculouses after how much they had destroyed his family. Marinette couldn’t blame him for that, and she didn’t push Adrien on the subject. Now she had all the kwamis in her possession as Guardian. Last she saw Plagg and Tikki, they were talking with all the other kwamis in her apartment.

Now though, she was regretting her decision of leaving Tikki behind. She had been working on a project and was in desperate need of some red satin. She knew that it was past midnight, but the fabrics shop was just two blocks away. She could get there quickly and come back to her apartment in a short time, and it probably wasn’t likely that there were too many people out this late.

Oh, how wrong she was. Out of the corner of her eye, she could spot a shadow drifting across the sidewalk, keeping pace with her brisk steps. As she tightly clutched her shopping bag that contained her new purchases, she could faintly make out several pairs of heavy footsteps. She groaned internally, this was not her night. She blamed lack of sleep for her stupid decisions, deciding she should probably bring Tikki everywhere from now on.

At this point, she was almost one block away from her apartment. She definitely didn’t want them to know where she lived, and just two yards ahead of her was an alley. If she made the sharp turn into the alley, she would have the element of surprise and she would have a better chance of taking them down. Her time as Ladybug had given her plenty of fighting experience that wasn’t lost on her.

So, after walking a few more feet, Marinette turned sharply into the alley. She quickly spotted a convenient dumpster, and crouched behind it. Hastily, she shoved her shopping bag and purse under the dumpster. She only had to wait a few minutes, before two dark shapes entered the alley. Slowing her breathing, she listened as they trudged deeper into the alley, closer to where she was hiding.

A gruff voice could be heard, “Where did the bitch go?”

Before the other man could reply, Marinette jumped out and socked the man closest to her in the chin. He stumbled backwards for a second, before falling to the ground, knocked out.

The other man, who had been in a shocked state, moved his hand under his jacket. Marinette presumed that he was reaching for a gun, and acted fast. She whipped her leg up, and kicked the man's ribs. A sickening crack was heard, and the man gasped before falling backwards. He ended up on the dirty floor next to his friend, moaning in agony before passing out.

Marinette almost sighed in relief, before she heard a quiet thud behind her. It almost sounded like someone had come from the roof above, but that didn’t make sense. So, a panicked Marinette swung around to face her new attacker. Without even processing the appearance of the person, she smashed her fist into his face. Years of fighting akumas lead to pure muscle memory, and her urge to survive had taken over her completely at this point.

She felt her knuckles press against cool metal, surprising her momentarily. However, the idea of an attacker who was wearing protective gear spurred her into an onslaught of blows. She kicked and punched her new opponent as they staggered backwards, cursing colorfully.

“Holy shit, lady! I’m trying to help you!” came a strangled voice that was somewhat muffled from what appeared to be a red helmet.

Marinette paused, looking a bit more closely at her would-be attacker. She gasped in shock before letting out a word vomit of apologies in French and English. Before Marinette stood none other than the Red Hood, one of Gotham’s resident heroes. He was still holding his forearms up to his head, trying to protect himself in case she decided to continue hitting him. Slowly though, he lowered his arms and Marinette could fully look at the vigilante.

His brown jacket was wrinkled and smudged with dirt. His clothing overall was in disarray, and he looked awful. The worst part though, was an ample sized dent in his shiny, red helmet. Marinette felt overwhelming guilt. She couldn’t believe she just did that. Oh, hell, what did she just do? She continued to blurt out panicked apologies while hyperventilating before the vigilante in question spoke.

“Whoa, calm down. I’m okay, and you’re safe now. Deep breaths, you’re okay. I’m not dead, you’re okay.”

Marinette stopped blurting apologies and slowly felt herself calming down. Oh god, why did these things happen to her. She took deep breaths like he advised, and little by little she felt herself coming off the adrenaline high.

Once she was mostly calmed down, a cloud of discomfort fell over the two. It was currently 2:00 a.m., and Marinette and the Red Hood were standing in a damp alleyway next to two unconscious bodies. The awkwardness was so thick, Marinette was sure she could cut through it like a knife. So, she decided to break it.

“Umm…Thanks. I’m really sorry about attacking you, I really didn’t mean to. I totally wasn’t trying to kill you on purpose or anything so I’m so sorry. And I damaged your helmet, I can pay for it if you want?” Marinette nervously stated.

To her surprise, the Red Hood burst out into deep laughter that was slightly smothered by his helmet. Despite the situation, Marinette couldn’t help but smile a bit.

He finally replied, “No, you’re totally okay. I’m fine, and you don’t have to pay for the helmet or anything. I scared you too, and I probably should have probably said something before jumping down into the middle of an alley at night. But, damn, you punch good!”

Marinette let out a burst of laughter, though it was partially due to relief that the Gotham hero wasn’t totally pissed at her.

“Thanks, but please let me pay you back somehow. It’ll make me feel better about beating you up. Please?” she asked.

“No, trust me, it’s totally fine. Besides, you should probably get back to wherever you live. I’ll make sure the cops get these two goons, but it would probably be safer if you were back inside. I can walk you back to help you in case you get bothered again?” Jason had no intention of leaving her all alone at night. Even if she refused him, he would tail her by the roofs to make sure she got home safe.

Luckily, Marinette agreed, “Yes please, and thank you so much! I really am sorry though.”

Distractedly, Marinette grabbed her purse from under the dumpster while the Red Hood tied up the two men. Hurriedly, she walked with the hero in a comfortable silence all the way back to the entrance of her apartment building.

“Well, this is goodbye. Nice meeting you Warrior Lady, despite the shitty circumstances,” the red helmeted man said good humoredly.

Marinette laughed at the nickname before replying, “Goodbye to you too. And thank you for everything.”

“Your welcome. And it really was no problem, trust me. I better get going, but it was fun to meet you.”

So the Red Hood gave a quick nod to her before turning around. Right before he could disappear though, Marinette cried out.

“Wait!”

He abruptly turned around, before a small tin was shoved into his hands.

“Thank you!” Marinette smiled before stepping into her apartment building and leaving the vigilante standing alone in the dimly lit Gotham street.

Jason curiously looked down at the box in his hands. Cracking it open, he found several macarons sitting in a row. Underneath his helmet, a small smile crossed his face. He decided to make his way back to the two idiots the girl had knocked out. He needed to check if the cops had found them. Stilling smiling to himself, Jason mused over the events that had just transpired. It had definitely been an interesting night.

Marinette had come back into her apartment, dropping her purse onto the floor. After being fussed over by the kwamis when she told them what had happened, she crashed into bed. However, a thought occurred to Marinette, and she groaned. Her new red satin was still under that dumpster. Her whole trip had pretty much been pointless. Too tired to care anymore though, she fell asleep.

The next morning, when Marinette walked onto her balcony contemplating last night's events, she was surprised. Sitting on the table of her balcony, was Marinette's shopping bag with her forgotten red satin. Smiling to herself, she grabbed the bag and rushed back inside with a new bout of inspiration. Some outfits based on the Red Hood flashed into her mind, and she quickly got to work.

TAG LIST: @rebecarojas07 @theatreandcomicfreak @maribatlife @ethelphantom @18-fandoms-unite-08 @mochegato @jasonette-july-2k20

#jasonette july 2020 #jasonette july 2k20 #maribat #maribat au #jasonette july #jasonette #jason x marinette #marinette x jason #ml x dc au #mlb x dc #idk what im doing #marinette dupain cheng

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sylvanfreckles · 3 years

Text

I Didn’t Mean It (FebuWhump 14)

(Two in one day! Now I’m only three behind!)

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Summary:Hank's offer of a place to stay after the android revolution couldn't have come at a better time. Unfortunately, the issue of Hank's previous attitude towards androids still hangs in the air between them.

* * *

The hug had been a surprise, but not unwelcome. After the events of the last few days a simple gesture of camaraderie was very pleasant.

Hank slapped him on the back and pushed away from the hug, shoving his hands in his pockets as soon as he was free. “So, what's next for you?”

Connor hesitated. His eyes slid away from Hank's face, to the street behind him where a group of humans was loading what possessions they could into an already-crowded passenger van. “I'm not sure. I don't think Cyberlife will want me back after this.”

The lieutenant had twisted to follow Connor's line of sight and grunted in affirmation. “What about your new friends? That, uh, that Marcus guy?”

An unfamiliar feeling caused a momentary pang in his chest. The androids of Jericho had enough to worry about without him—the wounded sheltered in the church, the liberation of the androids still held in the camps, the rescue of the dozens still in hiding around the city. They didn't need his help, didn't want his presence. “I'll...adapt,” he finally said after a moment, offering Hank a reassuring smile.

With a roll of his eyes, Hank dropped a heavy hand on Connor's shoulder. “Well, my couch's free, if you need a place to crash.”

Connor began to reply, but his gaze was suddenly caught by the scrape on Hank's cheek, left there by the other RK800 they'd faced in the warehouse. The wound was still red and irritated, though it would undoubtedly fade over the next few days.

We don't bleed the same color.

“Thank you, but I'll be all right,” Connor said.

“Come on,” Hank squeezed Connor's shoulder and leaned in further. “Where else you gonna sleep, huh? My place is a hell of a lot warmer than some park bench.”

“If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of ya in a dumpster and set a match to it.”

Connor gently twisted away from the man's grip and brushed at the wrinkles in his jacket. They had been through much together in the last few days, but he wasn't so sure a few words spoken in the heat of the moment could really overwrite years of prejudice. “I can recharge at the station,” he replied simply. “Or, if Captain Fowler won't permit it, there should be a few public stations still standing.”

“Jesus, Connor, you think I'm just gonna let you wander off on your own?” Hank shook his head and threw his free arm up in a shrug. “Don't be ridiculous, I'm not letting you loose when there are still assholes out there knocking android heads off for chuckles.”

“Concussive damage is a faster death than incineration.”

When Hank's face paled Connor realized he'd actually vocalized that thought. How strange. His new emotions seemed to be disrupting the usual precise control he had over his speech unit.

“Connor...” Hank looked like he wanted to reach out again, then shoved his hand back in his coat pocket and turned away. “Shit. I fucked up, didn't I?”

Despite the difficulties they faced at the beginning of the case, Connor found he was unwilling to cause the man emotional distress. “They were opinions made in ignorance. You've given me no reason not to trust you.”

“Bullshit,” Hank's head snapped around, eyes narrowed in anger. “Why do you look like you're ready to bolt for it if that's the case?”

“I'm not...”

“Every time I take a step forward you take a step back,” Hank continued. He took a purposeful step toward Connor, and Connor barely caught himself before taking a step away. “You're afraid of me.”

Connor pressed his lips into a thin line. “I'm not...not afraid of you, Hank.”

“So waddya want me to do? Want me to throw away all the matches or something?.”

“That's not the point.”

“Then what is? Jesus, kid, I just want you to have a safe place to go, all right? I've gotten used to you over the last few days, and you're finally acting like a person...ah, forget it.” Hank folded his arms over his chest and took a few angry steps toward the closed Chicken Feed cart. “Will you at least let me pay for a hotel or something? Get you a few good nights in a safe place before you try to, I dunno, adapt to the world?”

Connor slowly approached the cart and leaned his back against it, standing next to Hank but not looking him in the eye. “The slogans on your screen were a bit...concerning,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well, I was stupid, all right?” Hank turned around to lean against the cart as well. “I know this might surprise you, but I haven't always shown up to work the sober and respectable lieutenant you see before you.”

He couldn't quite hold back the smile at Hank's words. “I have seen you vomit after consuming a high amount of alcohol, Hank.”

Hank waved the comment away. “Right, right, not my proudest moment. Anyway, I was pissed, had been on the trail of this kidnapped kid, and the captain pulls me away to go to some fucking android first aide course. We were probably too late for the kid anyway, but damn if it didn't feel like those two hours were the difference between life and death.

“So yeah. I was pissed at Fowler, and I wrote that shit because I wanted him to know how I felt. Wanted him to remember not to partner me up with a godda—with an android. I made a mistake.”

Somehow, Hank's story relieved some of the uneasiness Connor was feeling. “He shouldn't have pulled you off the case,” Connor finally said. “You're a good detective, Hank.”

“You too,” Hank replied, bumping Connor's shoulder with his own. They were silent for a few moments, then Hank awkwardly cleared his throat. “Would it, uh...would it help if I said I was sorry? Goddamn, I bitch about Reed not caring about his job all the time, and you come along and just try to get me to investigate my own fucking case and I treat you like shit. I know it's not much, but...sorry, Connor.”

Connor mulled the lieutenant's words over for a moment. Hank eventually gave a grumble and pushed himself away from the cart, angling his feet toward the car he'd left parked at the curb.

“Hank?” Connor called after him. The man stiffened and slowly turned back around, loooking like he was bracing himself for condemnation. “Is your couch still open?”

Hank's face split in a wide grin and he moved back to Connor's side to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Damn straight, as long as you can put up with a grumpy old man who needs mend his ways.”

Connor returned the smile and let himself be lead to the Oldsmobile. “As I've said before, adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.”

“Smartass.”

* * *

I've seen a lot of stories about Connor going to live with Hank, but not many where he apologizes for his shitty attitude toward androids. So I did it myself! I hope you liked it!

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday14 #i didn't mean it #detroit: become human #dbh #fic #fanfic #hank anderson #connor #found family #friendship #after the mid-credit hug

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Tiny Terror

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Hitoshi Shinso

Hi, all! Here's my entry for @bnhabookclub's Bingo Event for the prompt "Adopt a Pet"! Hope you all enjoy some cute Shinso fluff~

Hitoshi scowled when pounding rain, not pleasant sunshine, greeted him as he strolled through the glass doors of the convenience store. The small fabric awning shielded him from most of the onslaught, but the sheer volume of water falling from the sky was inescapable; the canvas overhead bulged with pooling rainwater, and a sheet of fat droplets cascaded from its edge. The force of the drops propelled them inward, leading them to splatter over the soft cloth of his white tee-shirt. Beyond the waterfall streaming from the awning, puddles blossomed in the streets, rippling with the continuous rainfall.

When on Earth did this storm blow in? he wondered with a weary sigh. He tossed the plastic bag of canned coffees and mochi snacks over his shoulder while using his other hand to scratch the tufts of his lavender hair thoughtfully. The weather report hadn't predicted a rainstorm, so Hitoshi had neglected to bring an umbrella. It wasn't a terribly long walk back to the U.A. dorms, but in this deluge, he would be drenched within ten seconds. He pouted up at the cloud-choked sky. There's nothing for it. I'll have to wait it out, he decided. He walked to the large glass window and eased himself down on the sill, pushing aside a small flowerpot of violets to make himself comfortable, then pulled out his phone to scroll through his social media feed.

"Bah," he mumbled. Ninety percent of the posts refused to load. The convenience store wasn't a dead zone, so he surmised that the torrential downpour deadened the signal. He closed out of the app and shoved his phone into his back pocket, then disinterestedly stared out into the street. Despite the storm, people were still strolling out and about. The air thrummed with splashing water and the smacking of raindrops against the rubber umbrellas. Occasionally a car would zoom by and throw up an impressive arc of the dirty rain puddles, sending it washing over the sidewalk like a great wave. When the car was going fast enough, the sloshing water would kiss the tips of Hitoshi's Converse.

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow as a little mew drifted into his ears. The lavender-haired boy searched for the source of the sound, but there was no animal in sight. He began to wonder if he had imagined it until another tiny meow floated out of the alleyway on the side of the building. Hitoshi eased off of the windowsill to creep along the brick wall, not wishing to startle whatever little creature was voicing its opposition to the pounding rain. His eyes widened, and he blinked confusedly when all that greeted him was a big green dumpster and some sodden flyers that had blown in from the street. Just as he was about to turn around and resume his perch, the mew sounded again. He glanced down at his feet.

"Oh. Well, hello there." The sodden white kitten toddled on its unsteady legs to paw at the equally white front of his shoes, then raised its bobbling head to meow curiously at him. Hitoshi grinned and squatted down to observe the wee creature. It was incredibly small, most likely too young to survive without its mother. "Where's your mom, little one?" The kitten responded with another miserable mew. "Gone, huh?" He concluded and peered down the empty alleyway. He spotted no mass of fur, nor any nook or cranny a mother cat could hide. "Unless some cruel person dumped you here," he muttered angrily under his breath.

Hitoshi glanced down when the stumbly kitten thumped its head against the hem of his jeans, leaving a circle of dark blue smudged with brown behind. The water streaming down the small incline of the alleyway crashed against the kitten's stubby thin legs, making it stagger and wobble in the current. It whined and jumped on its back two legs to sink its tiny, needle-like claws into the jean fabric and steady itself in the speedy flow. Hitoshi chuckled and gently rubbed its wet tummy, displacing the clumpy sodden fur. "Whatever the case, you're a long way from home, huh?" The kitten meowed sadly.

"First things first, let's get you outta this rain," Hitoshi smiled and plucked the kitten up by the scruff to cup it in his palm. The corner of the awning shielded them some, but the ferocity of the pounding rain and bubbling current from the overflow dampened them both. Hitoshi kicked his feet annoyedly when he realized his socks were soaked through with the dirty water, and similarly, the kitten shook itself. Hitoshi smirked as tiny little water droplets spattered down his front, leaving coffee-brown dirt stains behind. "You little asshole," he laughed and used his index finger to scratch it under the chin. The baby cat began to rumble with a thundering purr and tilted it's head back so Hitoshi could pet all along the column of its throat.

Hitoshi cupped the cat to his chest and returned to his perch on the windowsill. Now subject to the breezy wind, the little thing was beginning to shiver terribly. Hitoshi shrugged off his jacket and set the kitten down on his lap to wrap the thick cloth around its body several times. The kitten's head poked above the mound of material, sniffing the dark fabric with its small pink nose. "What do I smell like? Coffee? Mochi? Exhaustion?" He joked. The kitten meowed matter-of-factly and gripped the metal zipper in its pin-needle teeth, tugging on it fiercely and growling. "What a tiny little terror you are. First, you splash me, and now you try to destroy my jacket after I'm kind enough to give it to you." The cat stopped yanking on the metal piece and blinked up at him with big blue eyes. "Yeah, little man, I'm talking to you."

The cat went back to terrorizing his jacket zipper.

Ignoring the squirming cat warming up on his lap, Hitoshi glanced out at the street. The rain was letting up; it was dripping more slowly from the overhang, allowing him to see more of the road and stores across the street. The puddles rippled more peacefully, as smaller drops caused less of a disturbance. People were venturing out from within the shops to jog quickly to their cars or destinations. Squinting, Hitoshi glanced up at the sky; what were once ash-gray clouds were lightening to a light hue, and spears of sunlight punched through their wispy frames to beam down to the earth. Puddles of light began to appear alongside the water puddles, golden and warm and bright.

"Well, what am I going to do with you?" Hitoshi wondered aloud and glanced back down at the kitten. It was now purring loudly, near-asleep, and staring at Hitoshi with bleary squinty eyes. Smiling, the lavender-haired boy softly stroked the patch of fur between its ears, and its purring jumped in volume. The kitten then yawned, flexing its pink sandpaper tongue and squeezing its eyes shut. When it finished, it smacked its lips and stuck out a little paw to nudge at his finger. Hitoshi smiled at the flash of its small pink pads when it wound around his middle finger and pulled his hand across the bunched-up jacket so it could snuggle into his palm. "I guess there's nothing for it…" he sighed and used his phone to snap a picture. He sent it to the Class 2-A group chat.

Me: I've made a friend. His name is Tiny Terror.

Ochako: T. T. for short! He's adorable. :D

Fumikage: He doesn't inspire much terror just looking at him.

Eijirou: Tokoyami, I can see you grinning from here. You think he's cute, don't you?

Fumikage: Be quiet! >:(

Tenya: You are NOT bringing that home.

Denki: He's got a name, RUDE. Come on, Iida! If you ask nicely I'm sure Hitoshi'll let you hold him.

Tenya: That's beside the point!

Tooru: He's so small! Did you rescue him from the rain, Hitoshi? How admirable~ \^u^/

Momo: I have some cream I can give him!

Izuku: I saw some DIY cat toy recipes on YouTube the other day! Let me find them.

Mina: Why were you looking at DIY cat toy videos?

Izuku: … I like to see the kitties play with them… >///<

Ochako: Aw, Deku, that's so cute!

Tenya: Why are we still discussing this? I said NO! Put him back!

Kyoka: Wow, way to be heartless. >.>

Katsuki: No one cares about your "orders," Four-Eyes.

Tenya: You guys are mean. :( … He is cute, I'll grant you that much.

His phone continued to ping with message notifications as the group discussed the newest addition to their lives. The rain was but a sprinkle now- certainly manageable enough to trot back to the dorms. Hitoshi bundled the tiny cat in his arms and stood up. The kitten peered up at him and meowed fearfully.

"Don't worry," he smiled kindly and bopped his little pink nose with a fingertip, "we're going home."

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @simplybakugou @sadistiks @wesparklebitch

#bnhabookclub #bnhabookclub event #bnhabookclub bingo event #hitoshi shinso #hitoshi shinsou #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku hero academia #my hero #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic

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lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

A (not) Special Day

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), MCU, imagine Avengers 2012

summary: Tony and Steve became a couple not so long ago and came a day, that started as every day in Steve's dating life with Tony Stark, but the more it progressed, the weirder it became, almost as if the universe was hiding something from him... Meaning, it is Tony's birthday and everyone knows except Steve.

length: 2 513

a/n: yes, I posted yesterday already a happy birthday fic for Tony, but felt inspired and wrote another one. so, once again, Happy Birthday, Tony! Hope you will like the fic and as always, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

——————–

A (not) Special Day

"Sooo... Any plans for today?"

Steve looked over his shoulder, hearing the question. It was a regular question but said in that sing a song way as if suggesting something and the way Clint had put his elbows on the table and leaned in, eyebrows raised expectantly just added to the mystery. And Steve had no clue what that was about.

"Uh. No, not really," Steve answered, cracking some eggs into a bowl and adding milk, not measuring it, just eyeballing. Pancakes for breakfast. That was his nearest plan.

"Wait... You didn't make any plans?"

"Why should I make any plans?" Steve asked back, adding melted butter into the mix, before leaving the bowl on the counter and taking flour from the cabinet, digging through boxes of cereals and pop tarts. There was not a single kid in the Avengers Tower, but the content of the cabinet told a different story.

"So, you don't know that-"

"Morning, handsome!"

Clint immediately zipped his mouth shut, when Tony waltzed into the kitchen. In black tank top, drawstrings pants, still ruffled from sleep. Tony Stark in his most natural state. Steve puffed out his cheek for a good morning kiss, and Tony pressed his lips into the soft skin, his stubble leaving a light scratch behind.

"Hi, babe. Clint, you were saying?" Steve turned his head to look at the archer, just in time to see the stumped expression on Clint's face, and Tony's gentle bewilderment. Something didn't add up.

"Uh, nothing," Clint said quickly, focusing on his bowl of multicolored cereals and small marshmallows. A perfectly balanced breakfast.

"You are making breakfast for me?" Tony turned to Steve, smiling brightly.

Steve felt suspicious for a second longer but decided to let the topic go, seeing that Tony didn't dwell on it either. Oh, well, probably it wasn't anything important.

"Actually, I am making it just for myself," Steve teased, adding flour into the mix of eggs and milk.

"Ouch, harsh," Tony narrowed his eyes, scoffing playfully. "Didn't know you were so selfish."

"That's not what you said last night," Steve pointed out with a smile, going on with the banter. Behind their backs, Clint made some gagging sound.

"And that's my cue to go," Clint said, taking his empty bowl and spoon, and put it into the dishwasher. Before he could walk out of the kitchen, his eyes lingered on Tony, and after some hesitation, he reached his hand in brunet's direction as if to pat him on the arm, but instead pulled him into a hug in the last second.

"Uhhh," Tony smiled awkwardly, hugging Clint back and patting his back, "thanks," he said. Clint moved away from the hug and nodded to Tony doing some thoughtful face, and walked out of the kitchen.

Okay, that definitely was suspicious.

"What was that about?" Steve asked when he and Tony were left alone.

"Jealous?" Tony asked, smiling happily. One look at Steve's face and it was clear that it wasn't jealousy, just a heck lot of confusion. "I don't know. Maybe he fell into a dumpster again and bashed his head?"

Steve thinned his lips, muttering a concerned 'hmph'. Seemed that the whole team needed another 'safety during world saving' kind of talk.

"Coming back to that breakfast... You are seriously not going to include me?"

Steve blinked, hearing the complaint. He looked at his boyfriend and saw Tony giving him an extra pleading look as if he didn't eat for days. Which for sure wasn't the case, because Steve made sure that Tony ate regularly, and on most of the days, Tony was pretty good of keeping track of his meals. Food was too good to skip.

"You mix, I fry?" Steve smiled, handing Tony a whisk. Teamwork at its finest.

Tony groaned in disappointment, finding the hour too early to be useful. But fine, he would comply. "I am adding chocolate chips though," Tony said, dipping the whisk in and carefully mixing before he would go faster and try not to splatter the batter everywhere.

"Fine with me," Steve took a step back, and sat at the table, just appreciating the view, because the faster Tony mixed, the more he wiggled his butt, something Tony wasn't aware of, but Steve knew and found very attractive.

***

"Steve, let's get hot-dogs!"

"Sure," Steve agreed, taking a stroll with Tony around the park, seeing the cart in the distance. It was a calm, sunny day, the air was crisp and Tony looked very elegant in navy blue coat paired with some slacks and sport shoes, giving it a casual look. Steve didn't look too shabby either, in a faux leather jacket in brown color, jeans, and a white shirt. Wherever they went, the superhusbands couple, as the press named them, was always attracting attention, but this day differed from others. Meaning, they attracted even more attention. Especially Tony. During their walk, Tony already heard a couple of 'yeah, Iron Man!' which made him smile and wave to whoever shouted it, and while it was sweet, Steve couldn't help to think that everyone around him knew something he didn't.

"Steve, what topping you want?"

"Oh," Steve blinked, too deep in his thoughts to notice that they reached the hot-dog cart, "um, mustard and ketchup, please," he said to the mustached man running the cart.

"Traditionalist," Tony complained about Steve's basic choice and started placing his order, enlisting almost every topping and sauce available.

"Please give him extra napkins. Or a bib," Steve said to the seller, and the guy laughed friendly, while Tony scoffed and playfully pushed at Steve's shoulder.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. People always talked about him and Tony and today was no different. Tony thanked for the hot-dogs and paid, and they resumed walking. Steve held his regular looking hot-dog, while Tony measured every bite, trying to get all the avocado, salsa and sliced jalapeños in his mouth, without getting it all over his clothes, while still holding hands with Steve and watching it, Steve felt somehow calm and happy. Being with Tony really made him happy.

"You seriously need a bib," Steve pointed out in good humor, biting his hot-dog and observing Tony struggle with his food and failed attempts to eat neatly.

***

"Babe..."

"Hm?"

"Don't you think it was kinda weird today?"

"What, why?" Tony leaned against Steve's bare chest, rubbing hand cream over his hands. All the work with heavy machinery and different machine oils and greases was drying his skin and Tony used to rub a ridiculous amount of moisturizing cream into his hands each time before going to sleep.

"I don't know," Steve frowned, lifting his arm so Tony could fit better into him. He pulled the covers over them and sunk into the bed, making himself more comfortable. Overall, it was a nice day, just something felt odd. "People kept staring at us."

"People always stare at us," Tony smiled patiently. That wasn't anything new, and Tony thought that Steve already got used to their public status.

"Yeah, but - it was different today," Steve thought out loud, stroking Tony's arm with his thumb. Usually, people flocked to them, trying to initiate small talk, ask for autographs. Today, it was only staring. As if everyone made some silent agreement to give them some privacy, while just observing. It was eerier than openly going crazy over them. "You even got donuts for free," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah," Tony laughed, sounding embarrassed. After they had eaten hot-dogs, Tony had a craving for something sweet and talked Steve into visiting his favorite donut place. He was a regular and usually his order was prepared even before he had placed it and today a smiley girl handed him a box, saying that it was on the house. Tony had a rule of not accepting free stuff, but the smiley girl, who turned out to be the manager, insisted. Begrudgingly, Tony had agreed, not to cause a scene, but had left a generous tip, which was more than enough to cover three boxes of donuts. "I kinda feel bad about it. But the donuts were good, right?"

"Yeah, they were," Steve agreed, not quite satisfied with the answer. The day was ending, and he still had more questions than answers.

"Alright, I see that's something is bothering you. And you know what is good for that?"

If Steve had hope for some explanations, he was quickly proven wrong, once Tony rolled on his side and put a leg over Steve's thighs, straddling him. Warm hands resting on his chest and Tony moved in closer, evoking some heat in lower parts of Steve's body.

If he couldn't get any answers, it was the best way to silence his brain.

Until Tony's overly moisturized hands slipped on his skin, and Tony instead of leaning in intimately, fell forward, headbonking their foreheads and temporarily blinding Steve with pain, while both screamed.

"Ow," Tony rolled down, massaging his forehead, "okay, that wasn't how I planned it," he admitted, hissing the words out.

Steve shook his head, getting the shocked feeling out of his system. He growled and threw himself over Tony, who squeaked in self-defense and started laughing, laughing some more until Steve kissed him quiet, planning to make his boyfriend loud again later.

And it was sweet again.

***

The mystery resolved itself the next day when a colorful cover of a magazine got in Steve's line of sight while he had been standing in a queue to the cash register in his regular supermarket. It was one of those gossiping magazines, ones Steve usually paid no mind, but the photo on the cover was of him and Tony and it was a recent one, snapped yesterday. The headline, written in bold letters, sounded absurd at first, but the more Steve focused on it, the more it made sense and he felt as if someone dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on him. He had grabbed the magazine, paid for the groceries, and hurried out, different feelings brewing in him and making his steps heavier.

Shock. Anger. Betrayal.

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

Tony's shoulders jumped when a colorful magazine fell on his lap, covering his tablet and interrupting his work time back in the Avengers Tower. He quickly scanned the covers, seeing himself and Steve, holding hands and walking down the sidewalk, chatting and smiling at each other, Tony holding a paper bag with the box of free donuts. It wasn't the worst picture, they both looked happy and in love, but it was when Tony saw the headline and understood the snappy tone.

'Tony Stark celebrating his birthday with Captain America on the streets of New York'.

Exclusive material. Of course.

Tony carefully lifted his eyes, meeting Steve's judging look. The way Steve crossed his arms below his chest and furrowed his eyebrows made him look intimidating but also pronounced his biceps and chest and the clenched teeth gave nice definition to his jawline. Unfairly attractive.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," Tony blurted out, feeling only minimally sorry. For him, birthday wasn't that grand. True, back in the days, he liked to throw big parties, but since he joined the Avengers, calm days were rare, and he was happy to spent his birthday calmly, just with Steve.

"Not a big -" Steve raised his voice, stopping himself on time, when Tony cocked his head to the side, sending his boyfriend a quizzical look. With a sigh, Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I wish you had told me," Steve admitted, more mad at himself than at Tony. Definitely more mad at himself. How he could not know that it had been his boyfriend's birthday? He saw Tony's SHIELD file and his birth date was right there, in front of his nose, how he could skip it? He was supposed to have a photographic memory and even memorized Tony's social security number, which was the easiest combination of numbers in the world and it was a true puzzle how someone as intelligent as Tony couldn't remember the combination of nine digits.

"Baby, it's fine-"

"No, Tony it's - It was your first birthday since we started dating and we didn't even do anything special," Steve continued, frustration and embarrassment clear in his voice.

"Well, if that counts, I think yesterday was pretty great."

"You do?" Steve opened his eyes, seeing Tony smiling warmly at him.

"Yeah. We ate breakfast together, went for a walk, got hot-dogs and donuts, and had sex," Tony listed, counting on his fingers and showing five of them, "that hits every mark of great birthday in my notebook."

Steve's eyes softened. It was a relief to hear that Tony saw yesterday like that, but Steve still felt that they could do something better and more memorable. But as long as his boyfriend was happy...

"You just didn't tell me, because you didn't want me to have my revenge," Steve pointed out in humor, feeling relieved about his screw up and sat on the couch next to his boyfriend.

"Revenge?"

"For my birthday. You hired two girls in Captain America USO girl's costumes to follow me around and sing 'The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan' for the whole day."

Tony laughed, remembering that day well and how embarrassed Steve had tried to lose the girls, who were surprisingly fast on their high heels. They had even followed Steve to the bathroom, singing their hearts out in front of the closed door, something Tony had to pay extra for.

"They were two actresses in training and did a great job. I am sure that it boosted their CVs," Tony giggled, unbothered by Steve's unamused look. "Besides, what revenge? We were not dating back then!"

"Oh, so you think that I forgave you all the things you did to me just because we are dating now?" Steve asked, lips curling into a smile.

"I thought that since you started to find me pretty, I got a clean slate," Tony smiled, sounding smug.

"I found you pretty back then too. Pretty annoying!" Steve summed up before Tony could get too smug. There were no hurt feelings, just Tony bursting into laughter again. One of the prettiest sounds in Steve's opinion. "Hey," Steve took his boyfriend's hand, trying to get Tony's attention and end the laughing fit. "Can I at least wish you a happy birthday now?" he asked. It was delayed, but Steve really would like to do that.

"Sure," Tony smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. To make it sweeter, Steve moved in closer and cupped Tony's chin, locking their lips in a delicate kiss. Sweet and simple and full of love.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Steve whispered when the kiss ended, looking into Tony's brown eyes with all adoration he had for his man.

Tony smiled, eyes and nose scrunching with the movement, his face having that happy, soft glow that showed on Tony's face only during special moments. "Thank you," Tony said, going in for more kisses.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #SUPERHUSBANDS #stevetony #fluff #humor #humor and fluff #domestic #domestic fluff #happy birthday tony stark #fanfic #fanfiction

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pocket-luv101 · 4 years

Text

Whispered Promises || Part 1

Fandom: Servamp Ship: KuroMahi Characters: Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: After Mahiru witnesses a major crime, he is targeted by the mafia. Kuro becomes his bodyguard to keep him safe. (KuroMahi, Bodyguard AU)

(Part 1) || Part 2 || Part 3

“I’ll be at the station in ten minutes and then we can walk to the pub. Don’t you dare buy hotdogs for dinner though. That’s barely a meal and you won’t have energy for tomorrow.” Mahiru laughed with his friend over the phone. Kuro’s shift ended late but he called him to ask if he wanted to have a late dinner with him. “You still have unhealthy tastes from when we were kids.”

Since Kuro was a detective, he was busy most days. It was difficult to make time for each other but their friendship was worth the effort. Mahiru decided to go to the station and walk Kuro to the restaurant rather than meeting him there. He thought it would be a good opportunity to spend more time together. Even though they could talk over the phone, he preferred to speak with him in person. He pictured the subtle smile Kuro would make and grinned to himself.

A gleam of light caught his attention and it made him to pause. He assumed that the light was caused by moonlight reflecting off glass. Mahiru looked in the direction of the light and noticed a car sitting idle in an alleyway. His eyes narrowed when he saw that the car didn’t have a license plate. Kuro’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Mahiru, did something happen? You suddenly went quiet.”

“Kuro, what reason would a person have to remove the license plate from their car? I’m not a cop but I assume it’s not good.” Mahiru told him in quiet whisper. He hesitantly crossed the street to the alley. The light he saw earlier meant that there could be someone in the car. “The car is parked next to the beer store on the corner of Fleet Street. I’ll stop people from entering the alley if it’s something dangerous.”

“You shouldn’t go near that car either, Mahiru! Just wait in the beer store for me to get there. The police station isn’t far from where you are so I’ll be in ten minutes. Just stay somewhere safe.” Kuro pleaded but he knew Mahiru wasn’t the type to ignore people in danger.

“It might be nothing and I’m just being paranoid. I’ll keep my phone on so you’ll hear if anything happens.” He told him and crept into the alley way. He kept a tight grip on his phone to calm his nerves. Mahiru was a normal civilian and he had never been in a dangerous situation before. He didn’t know what he might see but there was a possibility that someone innocent was hiding or in danger. The least he could do was give the police as much information he could when they arrive.

He peered into the car but he couldn’t see anything inside. Mahiru started to walk around the car until he heard voices nearby. He instinctively covered his mouth to not make a noise and he crouched beside the car. The alley was dark yet he could make out two people a few feet in front of him. His heart stopped when he saw that one of them had a gun.

“You missed this month’s payment. I thought we had an agreement. We protect your store and you push some drugs for us. You haven’t been selling your share and we’re starting to think you’re skimming us. You should know better than to cross us.” The man said. The other person stumbled over an answer but it was clear that any explanation was pointless.

A gunshot echoed throughout the alley and Mahiru couldn’t stop himself letting out a sharp gasp. He turned around to run but, in his panic, he tripped. He grabbed the car door to stop his fall. The car alarm blared to life and his heart stopped. The car’s headlights flashed and the light allowed Mahiru to see the shooter. Their eyes met and fear made his legs stiff even as his mind was screaming for him to run.

The moment the man point his gun at him, Mahiru was pulled backwards. His surroundings became a blur and he wasn’t able to make any sense of what happened next. Mahiru felt himself being dragged away with the sound of gunshots following them. He wasn’t hurt when someone took him behind a dumpster and blanketed him in warmth.

“Hyde, the shooter is escaping on foot. He’s heading south down Fleet Street.” Kuro shouted the orders to his brother. His voice brought Mahiru out of his daze and he looked up at him. He wanted to thank him for saving him but his voice wouldn’t come out. His body shook but he regained enough control of his hands to grip Kuro’s shirt. “Lily, take care of Mahiru and I’ll go after the shooter.”

When he would’ve left, Mahiru stopped him. He let go of his shirt so he could throw himself into his strong chest. Mahiru wrapped his arms around him and clung onto him. Kuro couldn’t leave after he saw how pale he was. He tenderly stroked his brown hair to comfort him. “You’re safe, Mahiru. It’s okay.”

“Please, don’t leave me.” He whispered.

“I won’t. JeJe, can you take charge while I get Mahiru somewhere safe?” He asked his brother who nodded. Kuro wrapped his arm around Mahiru’s waist as they stood. He pressed himself close to his side as they walked out of the alley. Mahiru sat on the curb and he glanced around them worriedly. His eyes fell back to his clenched hands on his lap.

The danger had already passed but Mahiru was still struggling to absorb what happened. His hands trembled until Kuro wrapped them in a reassuring warmth. The simple gesture made him feel safe. He found his voice again and asked: “Will that man be okay? Oh God, I couldn’t do anything and I just stood there. If you hadn’t come… Why can’t I stop shaking?”

“It’s the adrenaline. Take deep breaths and count with me, Mahiru. That will help you calm down and return your heartbeat to normal.” Kuro took off his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders. While it was a warm summer night, Mahiru found himself pulling the jacket tighter around his body. The lingering warmth from Kuro’s body clung to the fabric and he took comfort in that. After a few breaths, colour returned to his cheeks and Kuro was relieved to see him relax.

Kuro wasn’t the best with words so he wasn’t comfortable speaking with the victims and witnesses. He would usually have Lily speak with them. Mahiru was different though. They had been friends since they were children and he would do anything to help him. He wished he had arrived sooner or convinced him not to enter the alley. He pushed his own guilt aside to focus on Mahiru.

Slowly, he brushed his bangs from his brown eyes. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Now that you’re here.” Mahiru managed to give him a small smile. “Thank you, Kuro.”

“If you’re ready, we need to go to the station and take your statement.” JeJe’s voice came between them. Even as Mahiru nodded, he didn’t want to let go of Kuro’s hands. He must’ve read his thoughts for he adjusted their fingers to thread together.

“We’ll go together. I won’t let go of your hand until you feel safe.” Kuro vowed. “I’ll protect you, Mahiru.”

After they returned to the police station, Mahiru made a statement and worked with a police sketch artist. They weren’t able to leave until well past midnight. Mahiru asked Kuro to stay the night since he wasn’t comfortable being alone. The shooter had escaped and officers were currently searching for him with the sketch the artist made.

The sun had barely risen when Kuro woke. He walked into the kitchen but he didn’t find Mahiru cooking like he usually would. It was rare that he woke up before him but the previous night had been stressful. He thought of all the times Mahiru would cook for him after a difficult investigation. Kuro wanted do the same for him and make him smile again. He decided to cook breakfast for Mahiru and rummaged through his fridge for food. Kuro would often sleep over at his house so he was able to easily find everything.

His phone rang and Kuro answered it as he heated water. His brother’s name flashed on the screen and he knew the reason he called him so early was likely related to the case. “Hey, JeJe. Has there been an update on the shooter? It’s only been a few hours so I didn’t expect for someone to identify him so soon.”

“I sent the sketch to Mikuni and he recognized the man.” JeJe told him. A rock dropped in Kuro’s stomach. Mikuni was working undercover with that mafia group, Karasu. His brother would only contact Mikuni if he thought the two cases were related. “The shooter is one of Karasu’s favourite messengers, Watanuki. Captain has already ordered us to bring the guy in. I thought I should tell you so you can prepare Mahiru. His testimony is the best chance we have to take them down.”

“Shit.” Kuro cursed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. For the past month, they had been slowly building a case against the mafia group but their Captain was impatient to arrest them. Karasu would murder witnesses so gathering evidence for a trial was difficult. “Mahiru said the shooter saw him so the mafia will go after him. Can we protect him? Did the prosecutor say anything about the trial date?”

“Misono won’t have a date until we arrest Watanuki. Even if we arrest him today, the trial will likely be weeks from now. You know how backed up the system is.” JeJe said and caused Kuro to sigh heavily. He wished that things were as easy as the movies. “I can ask the Captain for Mahiru to be put in witness protection but that’s not in the budget. The best we can do is have a cop drive by his house hourly.”

“Karasu has killed five witnesses already and I don’t want Mahiru to be their next target.” Kuro’s grip tightened around his phone. He knew that his brother wasn’t able to do much either. The frightened expression Mahiru had the previous night made Kuro want to protect him. “There must be something we can do.”

“If you’re worried about Mahiru, you should be the one to protect him like a bodyguard. Hyde suggested the idea. You have a lot of paid vacation days saved up and we’ll take care of your cases. Mahiru’s our friend and we don’t want him to be hurt.” JeJe said. “Kuro, we know Mahiru is important to you so it’s okay. We just need to talk to Captain about it. Hyde is already doing that.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to Mahiru about the situation and ask him what he wants to do.” Kuro said and ended the call. He heard the door open behind him and he turned around to see Mahiru step out of the room. He didn’t know if he had overheard their conversation but said: “That was JeJe. We can talk about his call after we eat. I wanted to make you breakfast but I got distracted. It should be ready soon though. There’s orange juice.”

“Thank you, Kuro.” He said and took the cup from him. Mahiru leaned against the counter and watched Kuro pour noodles into a pot. Usually, he would lecture Kuro for heating up processed food but he knew the breakfast was a thoughtful gesture. He tasted a spoonful of the broth and said, “It’s good. I must be a lucky man to have your special instant noodles.”

“Did you sleep well?” Kuro didn’t know how he would tell Mahiru about the mafia group. He was a normal civilian and the situation could frighten him. He never wanted to see Mahiru scared again.

“I overheard your call with JeJe about the mafia group targeting witnesses.” His words made Kuro’s eyes widen. He looked into his brown eyes but they weren’t fearful like they were last night. Mahiru set down his cup and said: “Honestly, I was terrified when I heard you say that. I read about Karasu in the papers. But, if I can help you stop them by testifying, I won’t run away.”

“You must be more courageous and reckless than most of the police force. The only one crazier than you would be Licht but that’s a high bar.” Kuro joked and stroked his brown hair. At first, he only meant to smooth his hair back into place but he found his hands lingering. He didn’t want to let go of him. “I’ll protect you, Mahiru. JeJe and I are working on ways to keep you safe.”

“I wouldn’t have anyone be my bodyguard but my best friend.” Mahiru didn’t know if he should confess that Kuro was the only reason that he was so calm despite the situation. He trusted him with his life. “I don’t know a lot about police work or things like that outside of movies. Will it be a risk to go to work? I don’t want to endanger my co-workers by simply being there.”

“It might be best to move you to a safe house. The Karasu has a lot of connections and they might be able to find your address and work. We can stay in a hotel so they won’t find you. I’ll have JeJe call your boss to explain the situation too.” Kuro knew how much Mahiru loved his job as a veterinarian. “We’ll catch that man as quickly as we can, Mahiru. I won’t let anything happen to you in that time.”

“I know you will protect me, Kuro.” Mahiru smiled up at him and trust shone in his brown eyes. He stepped away from him and said, “I’ll start packing some things for the move but I need a shower first. Do you want to join me to make sure there’s no one hiding behind my towels, Mr. Bodyguard?”

“Anything to make you feel safe.” He joked and they both laughed. Mahiru walked down the hall while Kuro continued cooking.

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

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awesometheydontknowiamhere · 5 years

Text

In Your Honour

Summary: The Reader finds a stray kitten in an alley behind her building. She rescues him and secretly nurses him back to health in her spare bedroom in her shared apartment with her boyfriend, Diego. Diego grows suspicious of her activities and assumes the worst.

Requested: Nope.

Warning: None at all. Minor tones of angst and jealousy. Overall fluff.

Diego Hargreeves Taglist: @wh3n-1t-ra1ns-1t-p0urs @imultifandomstuff @w0nder-marie@chloemac86 @theladywholivesonthemoon @hemogobllin@pansexualpaperdragons @gorgeourrific-nerd @purplezebra68@vividholland@bands-and-shietz @onlydeanandjensen @slither-in-a-half@reblogserpent@missscarlett1802 @lovelyheadrush @mrsdiegohargreeves@mrsdiegohargreeves @katylovescats @vividholland @lilithsweetghost@ynm1505@siriusjohnpotter @ratfuckb0y @energy-for-fandoms-not-your-shit @writingsbychlo

A/N: Back from the dead. No, I don’t have any excuses. I tried writing something with a No Smut condition. Hit me with the criticism.

Also, Karambit is a small Indonesian curved knife resembling a claw. Remember that, it’s going to come in handy.

Inspiration for this fic:

I mean are you guys seeing this?!? He looks so soft.

Word count: 1584

“You know, I am eventually going to give you a kickass name,” you said to the black cantaloupe-sized furball in your lap. You were glad that Diego wasn’t home because you couldn’t explain the presence if the gorgeous yet starved feline in the house. Coming to think of it, you didn’t even know what his thoughts were on pets.

You had found the kitten that morning, mewling and terrified outside a dumpster behind your building. You had crouched and inspected him from an arm’s length, scared to touch him lest he freaked out and didn’t let you help him. You had spent a considerable amount of time on your knees and he had approached you, allowing you to pet him. You had gently scooped him in your scarf and carried him home.

He wasn’t injured but looked severely malnourished. You had made him a cozy bed in a large cardboard box lined with soft sheets and fluffy pillows. He had a long nap in his new abode, but not before slurping down a bowl of milk and a whole shredded chicken breast.

He was currently lounging on your outstretched legs, occasionally looking up at you with his dark eyes. You stroked his fur and he screwed his face when you scratched him behind his ears.

You heard the front door and realized that Diego was calling out for you.

You placed the tiny black cat back with into his bed and looked around to check if his water bowl was full and he had a few makeshift toys to play with.

“I will see you in a few hours, be good for mommy, okay?”

You blew him a kiss and shuffled out of the room, carefully locking the door behind you.

Diego was standing at the kitchen counter, guzzling down a large bottle of water. He looked over the rim of the bottle and winked at you, instantly turning your heart into a fluttering mess.

You were new at this live-in lifestyle and you were elated when he decided to move into your two-bedroom flat. After all, you weren’t going to let your lovely boyfriend rot in that dark hellhole.

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him and rose up on your toes to kiss him while his hand smoothed down your back. He pulled back and said,” I am all sweaty, babe, let me shower first.”

“You know that’s exactly how I like you, all sweaty and worked up.”

“Well, in that case,” he said as he pulled you to him and walked over to the couch.

He plopped down and pulled you on to his lap. He murmured something about getting pizza for dinner but his lips on your skin stole your attention.

“Babe, why are you covered in weird fibres?”

Your head jolted right up.

“Oh, I was just trying on an old faux fur coat. The fibres must have clung to me.”

You mentally kicked yourself for being such a terrible liar but thankfully Diego looked convinced.

After dinner, Diego retired to the bedroom while you fixed a bowl of chicken and a cup of milk. Diego was busy with his knives which gave you ample time with your furry baby.

A couple of weeks went by and you thought you were doing an excellent job of secretly fostering a cat. Occasionally, you were cutting it too close to the edge. For instance, you had bought a few cans of cat food but had to hastily conceal it in the nearest shopping bag when Diego had emerged from the room. You had done an incredibly poor job of diverting the conversation when he had asked about its contents. The other major near-miss incident had involved him waking up in the middle of the night when you had gone to check on your little kitty. You had returned to find Diego waiting for you with a raised eyebrow. You had pecked him on the lips and gone back to sleep.

Maybe you weren’t that good at being sneaky. It hardly mattered, you were going to tell him about your new pet any day.

Diego came home that night, his behavior a little different than usual. His kiss lacked passion and he didn’t pull you into him as he usually did. You filed it under stress and exhaustion.

“Why don’t you go change, we can have dinner together,” you said, laying your hand on his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

Diego sighed and pressed his palm to his eyes.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

Your heart cracked a little. The combination of his somber mood with those words forced you to think of the worst. You sat down on the couch facing him. You slipped your hand into his but he made no effort to hold it.

“Diego, I-“

“I am sorry, Y/N, but I’d really like to go first.”

You nodded and braced yourself for the worst.

“Are you cheating on me?”

“What?”

That was certainly unexpected. You couldn’t even bear the thought of him not being a part of your life and there he was thinking you would break the sanctity of your relationship by cheating on him. You looked at him, aghast.

“Why on earth would you say that?”

“Do you seriously want reasons, because I have plenty. Fine, I will give you reasons. You disappear during al-all hours of th-th-the night. The other day I saw you with a bag full of stu-stuff from a lingerie store.

He took a breath and continued.

“The wor-worst of it was last night. I heard you say I lo-love you on the phone last night when you tho-thought I was asleep.”

He sighed in frustration, upset that his surge in emotions making him stammer.

“Diego, baby, look at me,” you said, placing your palms on his stubbled cheek.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” you said, wiping away an escaped tear.

“Wrong?”

“I am not cheating on you, I promise,. I wouldn’t do that to you, not even in my wildest dreams. I have perfectly logical explanation for everything you saw, but I think showing you would be better than telling you. Come with me.”

He looked apprehensive as you dragged him to the spare bedroom.

“Before we go in, baby, I need you to promise me you won’t freak out. It’s going to answer all your questions.”

Diego looked at you and tucked your behind your ear.

“Okay.”

“Close your eyes.”

He looked dubious for a second, and then closed his eyes.

You took his hand and lead him into the room, guiding him to the bed. You pushed his shoulders down, asking him to sit.

“Don’t open your eyes, I will be back in a second,” you said, kissing his forehead.

You bent down to retrieve a tiny bed and scooped up the onyx furball.

Planting yourself in front of Diego, you said,” Open your eyes.”

Confusion coated his features. He looked at you to figure out what you were showing him when a soft mewl pulled his attention from your face to your hands.

“Umm..Y/N?”

“How rude of me, let me introduce you. Diego Hargreeves, meet Karambit,”you said with a soft smile, a little wary of what might come.

Diego quirked his eyebrow at his name.

He cleared his throat and shifted on the bed, making space for you to sit.

“Can I hold Karambit?”

You smoothed the look of surprise on your face and placed karambit in his outstretched hands. His tiny body fit in Diego’s hands, and that sight warmed your heart.

Diego’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he looked at Karambit. He held his attention and Karambit tilted his head forward, giving him permission to pet him.

“I think he likes you.”

“Did you think he wouldn’t like me?”

“Oh, I was talking to Karambit, because I am sure he loves you. How could he not, considering he was named in your honour? Trust me, he knows all about you, he’s seen nearly all your pictures on my phone, heard all about you,” you said, placing your hands on his cheek.

Diego looked amused, and though he hid it well, you could tell he was touched.

“Y/N, baby, I am sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have said any of that, I truly am sorry.

You slid up to him and took his free hand in yours.

“No, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have kept it from you. All those things you saw were just me hiding Karambit’s things in the house. The lingerie bag contains can of cat food, and I go to check on him every few hours because he sleeps alone in the room and I worry about him,” you said.

“God, I feel so stupid, now that I know the whole truth.”

“You aren’t stupid,” you said with a laugh,” you were just unaware. I didn’t know how you felt about pets. I am sorry, I should have told you anyway.”

“First, this is your house, your life, your world. Babe, you say the word and I’ll get it for you. Nothing about your choices should depend on me. Second, I love animals, you had nothing to worry about. I am glad you brought him into our lives,” he said, with a grounding air of reassurance.

He pulled you to him, careful not to jostle a napping Karambit awake. You curled into him, hugging him close.

In that moment you knew that your family was complete.

#diego hargreeves #Domestic Bliss #domestic Diego #diego x reader #diego is daddy #tua #tua fandom #tua fanfic #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy fandom #diego hargreeves imagine #tua imagine #fanfiction is life #fanfiction is hard #diego hargreeves angst #jealous diego hargreeves #knife daddy #karambit

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oscar-piastri · 5 years

Text

secret & lies [peter parker x reader]

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter and reader both are keeping secrets from each others; they both have a secret identity they’re too scared to reveal

words: +2.8k

notes: haven’t wrote anything for this fandom in like a year??? but enjoy this to celebrate far from home (coming out in two days in France)

“I’m sorry, I have to cancel tonight. Something came up with the Stark Internship” your boyfriend blurred out. You couldn’t help but see that he was blaming himself for cancelling your little date once again. But this feeling slowly vanished when he saw you smiling.

“Don’t worry Peter! I was going to tell you that I also needed to cancel. My parents are going out and the nanny cancelled, so I need to babysit my little sister” you explained.

You and Peter started dating a few months ago, yet it felt like you’ve been together for much longer than that and you didn’t mind that. In your first weeks you were inseparable, always together, texting and calling. He was your first serious relationship and you felt like it would be the only one. Everything was perfect. And even thought you were spending less time together because of his amazing internship, you always reassured him by saying that you couldn’t be prouder of him and that only wish him good things.

Peter hated this situation, where he had to cancel date nights and where he had to lie to you all the time. What was breaking his heart even more was that you were happy for him while he was straight up lying to your face every time. Oh he was often thinking about telling you the truth; that he was Spider-Man, that he was ditching you to catch criminals but he knew it would bring danger and worries into your relationship.

Little did he know that his sweet and supportive girlfriend was also keeping a secret.

You hated faking a smile and seeing your boyfriend believing your lies. He was so nice and he didn’t deserve those awful lies. You loved him and you couldn’t stand the idea of breaking up with him, so you’re always trying to convince yourself that lying is the best thing to do; that it’s keeping him safe from your secret life.

“Alright, I’ll call you later” Peter said before pecking your lips. You wished he had more time so you could keep kissing him but you knew he had to go right away.

“Have fun!” You told him as he waved goodbye when he walked out of the room.

As soon as you made sure that Peter was outside your house, on his way to his internship, you ran back to your room and jumped on your bed where your computer was lying on a pillow.

You ignored the few things you were supposed to do for school and put your entire attention on your computer and the files inside. You also grabbed the box under your bed and took out some papers that you carefully put on your bed.

“Okay, let’s do this” you said out loud, looking at the numerous plans and maps: buildings, neighbourhood, and lists of names and timetables with key words.

After long minutes, probably hours because the sun was going down, you circled a house and highlighted some names while taking a sip of your drink. Your alarm went on and you knew it was time for you to get ready. You changed your clothes to a much darker color, put on a hoodie, threw the papers in a backpack and opened your window to get out.

As you were halfway outside your room, you turned around and grabbed some stuff in your closet. “In case I have an interesting encounter with this annoying Spider dude, might have to get ready to fight back” you said to yourself, carefully putting some gadget in your bag.

You walked discreetly in dark streets, playing with the shadows in order not to be seen. You knew the way by heart, you used to do it pretty often to spot places to hide. After a few minutes, you finally ended up in the neighbourhood you were looking for. You hide yourself behind huge dumpsters and took out your binoculars, mostly to make sure that the house you were targeting was empty.

“Let’s rob this shit” you mumbled as you put on a mask to cover a part of yourself; .

Easy. Quick. Entry via the backdoor. No alarm. No one was home. Perfect moment. You couldn’t remember how you got that idea, stealing stuff, breaking into houses, perfectly knowing that you’ll make people feel unsafe in their own houses. But you didn’t care, you were only thinking about the rush of adrenaline that was in your body as soon as you step a feet in the house.

You’ve been doing this for a few months, and to be honest, the fact that there was now a new vigilante protecting the city made all of this more exciting. You hated him, but you couldn’t help but love the thrill of getting caught or escaping. Not that you were keeping tabs but he never managed to catch you, and you were ready to keep that score.

Focusing back on the house, you hurried in the main rooms to find money, jewelry, pretty much anything that could fit into your bag, without being to heavy and that had value.

You were leaving one of the bedroom when you stopped in the middle of the stairs when you heard some noises. There was no cars, so you knew it wasn’t anyone from the family or even the cops. You stayed put, without making a sound so you could focus on what was outside.

“I know you’re in there! Wasn’t really discreet” your heart stopped beating when you heard those words. “I saw the flashlight from outside. Typically the sign of a thief” the voice continued and you recognized right away who it was.

“You still haven’t caught me. Let me tell you that I hate spiders, I kill them. But I’m feeling nice tonight, I might just run away” you answered, still loud so he could hear you, wherever he was.

Not wanting to get caught, you knew you had to leave right now. You weren’t good with jumping off the roof so the only solution was windows or doors. You looked around to find the perfect escape spot, when you saw a shadow behind a window in the living room. You assumed it was Spider-Man, so you decided to run as fast as you could to the front door.

You flew the door open and froze when you saw Spider-Man right in front of you. “Hey there! I knew I’d find you again!” He said.

“Aw, that’s so sweet! Guess what? I have a surprise for you” you smirked, discreetly taking something from your pockets. “Good luck finding me” you half yelled as you dropped some balls on the ground. It was smoke bomb and as soon as they hit the ground, a cloud of smoke covered Spider-Man, reducing his ability to see.

You took opportunity of this situation and escaped from a window. You knew he would be right behind you, so you gathered all your energy to run the fastest. You turned in a dark alley, and hide behind some cardboard. Only a few seconds later, you saw your not friendly hero jumping from buildings to buildings trying to find you.

Too scared to be caught, you stayed hidden for a few minutes, making sure that the way was clean and secure. You were out of breath and it was a little bit difficult for you to breathe normally, since you were still anxious about getting caught. Spider-Man has never been so close to catch you, and it drove you mad and scared. Beyond that, you were still proud of what you managed to do.

Once you were able to walk again without freaking out, you took off your dark hoodie and mask and join back the main street to go back home, without raising questions.

It was 11pm and you were completely exhausted. As soon as you got home, you grabbed something to eat and went straight to bed, without checking in with your parents. You assumed they read the note on your bed and that they knew you’d come home late, that is why they didn’t jump on you as soon as you step foot in the house.

You still had school the day after but you passed on the homework and fell asleep in 2 seconds, exhausted by all the emotions of the night.

You woke up earlier than usual the next morning, you still needed to do some homework and you could never go to school without them being done. Your phone vibrated and you found a text from Peter saying he was on his way to pick you up.

“Hey babe” you greeted your boyfriend with a soft kiss on his lips. “How are you?” You asked him a little worried when you saw that his sweet smile wasn’t on his face.

“Oh… I’m good. I just had a complicated thing to deal with yesterday” he lied, smiling a little to reassure you. It was obvious that Peter couldn’t tell you the truth; that he was mad because he let a criminal escape. So he just keep with the usual lie; the Stark internship. Not wanting to lie again this day, he quickly changed the subject.

“How was the babysitting?” He asked, holding your hands and intertwining your fingers as you walked together to school.

“I’m good! We just watched movies all night” you lied too. You couldn’t tell him that you escaped Spider-Man while you were robbing a house.

The rest of the walk was in silence, Peter was upset about something and he decided to keep it to himself and you decided to stay quiet, not wanting to say a dumb thing that would made him even more angry.

“I’ll see at lunch” you told Peter before kissing his cheek, when you got into the school.

“I’ll save you a sit” he simply replied, lost in his thoughts.

You didn’t realise Peter’s mind was somewhere else and that he decided to skip school for the day, in order to improve his suit so he could finally beat you. He was pissed off but he had the feeling that this situation would be over soon.

When you got his text at lunch time saying that he went back home, you didn’t bother meeting with Ned and MJ and went outside to find a calm and discreet spot to prepare for you next robbery.

You knew the perfect place, a house in your neighbourhood. The owners were out of town for the weekend and they were leaving today; in the middle of the afternoon. You saw them pack this morning when you were walking with Peter. The fact that you were familiar with the environment was a bonus for you, and it wasn’t the only positive thing: this couple wasn’t liked by much, so nobody would watch their house. It was all perfect for you.

“There you are! Ned and I have been looking for you” you heard someone. You quickly locked your phone where you were writing your ideas for tonight when you realised it was MJ.

“Heeeeeey girl” you awkwardly answered back. “Yeah sorry, didn’t feel like coming, I’m worried about Peter and didn’t want to force you to have to deal with my worry self”

She looked at you with her special suspicious look she used to give to Peter “Weird. Anyway, Ned, Betty and I are going out tonight, you and Peter wanna join?” She asked.

“Thank you for thinking of me! I don’t know for Peter but I already have something planned for tonight. But if it doesn’t last too long, I’ll text you to see if I can join you” you explained a little bit embarrassed for turning down your friends. Even though you still had Saturday night to deal with your secret activity, you couldn’t wait, already missing the feeling and rush of adrenaline in your body.

“Deal” she simply said before turning around to walk back inside the building, with her hands in her pockets.

You were quick to follow your friend because your first class of the afternoon was starting soon. This afternoon was probably the longest you’ve ever had. You were feeling like a child being all excited before its birthday, counting minutes until the gifts, and in your case, the gift was an empty house full of interesting things to steal.

As soon as you heard the bell, you grabbed your stuff and ran home to get ready. It was still early and you needed to wait until at least 9pm so it’d be dark outside, so you found yourself sitting in your room, counting the hours and watching the sun going down.

You tried to text Peter but he didn’t answer. You were getting tired of seeing your relationship vanishing. You knew you were to blame, because you were keeping secrets, but you knew deep down that Peter wasn’t always honest with you. Thinking of losing Peter made you rethink about your secret activities, Peter was the sweetest and he would never deserve a criminal as a girlfriend. Maybe the time for you to stop stealing should come soon.

By the time you finished thinking about it, your sister called you to dinner; something that would make the time fly quicker. But as you started eating, you realised how lucky you were to have a family like this, and knowing what you were doing would break their hearts. You put that thought in your head as a second reason to stop stealing.

You looked at your phone and the digits showed 10pm. You changed into darker clothes, put on your mask and grabbed your backpack. This time, you decided to go without gadgets; you were close to home and you figured you wouldn’t have to deal with Spider-Man. You locked your room and went through the window to leave. You took a detour to make sure that you’d reach the backdoor where no one would see you.

So distracted and sure of yourself, you made the mistake to forget about the alarm. You didn’t realise that with all the robberies around town, the owners decided to buy and install a secret and silenced alarm, which you didn’t know about. And as soon as you opened the back door, the alarm sent a signal to the cops.

You wandered around the house, trying to find objects that you could bring. You somehow lost track of time and it was when you heard the cops that you realised you’ve been here way too long and that you needed to run right away. On your way, you threw on the ground whatever you stole, it was heavy and could slow you down. You reached the backdoor and ended up in the garden right where you arrived. You were about to leave through the trees, just like you did before when you felt one of your leg stuck on the ground.

“Got you!” A voice half yelled. “I knew I’d make it one day” the voice continued. You tried to turn around, but it was difficult with your leg webbed to the ground. You eventually managed to turn half your body, to find yourself in company of your dear Spider-Man.

“Yeah, because I made a mistake, Spider-Dude” you growled, mentally punching yourself for being so dumb about this robbery.

“D-Don’t call me that! Anyway…. Lucky for you, I told the cops I’ll handle it” he declared, pointing behind him, where you assumed the cops’ cars were in front of the house.

“That’s nice of you. But could you like… Free my leg? My position is killing my back” you asked and that made Spider-Man laughed.

“It was quite a good idea, your little gadget last night” he said ignoring you. “Actually, now that I’ve got you and that you’re going to jail, I’d like the see who I was against” he suggested and you froze, almost forgetting to breathe.

“N-no, not fair. Not cool. I already lost, just… Just let me go and I’ll stop. And don’t take off my mask, it’ll kill the mystery” you tried to negotiate but you knew that it was useless.

“That’s not how it works. You should have thought about that before you started stealing” and with that, he used his webs to get out your mask.

You didn’t had the time to cover you face and closing your eyes would be useless, so you stayed like that, completely exposed.

“That can’t be….” He started and you rolled your eyes, assuming that he didn’t expected to see a girl that young. “Y-Y/N?” He asked.

When you heard your name, your heart skipped a beat. “H-how do you know my-” you didn’t had the time to finish your sentence because as you were speaking, Spider-Man took of his mask, revealing the face of your boyfriend.

“Peter?!” You asked, completely shocked.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfic #w*#*

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aelaer · 5 years

Text

Whumptober Day 9: Shackled

Don't ask me about canon timing because I think this is one of those "canon shmanon" type of timelines in this story. Thanos and five years just screws up everything, man.

This also got a bit longer, soooo cut! (assuming tumblr doesn’t mess it up). I don’t think any warnings particularly apply here, beyond your usual bad guy shenanigans.

Fandom: Still Doctor Strange / MCU

9. Shackled

For reasons unknown to Stephen, the group of dark occultists from another dimension were specifically looking for him and him alone. They said as much when they came to the New York Sanctum to try and overwhelm him the first time.

(For some reason they were surprised by the fact that Stephen was all but immediately joined by half a dozen other Masters and quickly retreated. Did they really think he wouldn't have any backup? That Kamar-Taj would just leave him to it?)

Several acolytes and more adept apprentices were looking for information on how they came to their dimension in the first place and trying to locate their point of origin. Many masters, in the meantime, were looking for where this group was hiding, but they managed to mask their presence well. When a week passed with no sightings, they reluctantly agreed to alert the Avengers of the group's existence, loath as all the masters were in admitting their failure in finding them quickly. But they were too great a potential threat to keep a secret for any longer.

Another week passed with no ground gained on finding them. They were able to pinpoint their entry point on their dimension's earth, which meant they had more resources as to how they got there in the first place. At least it was something.

Then everything changed with a knock at the New York Sanctum's door. Stephen opened it and found a woman in scrubs on his doorstep.

She seemed familiar. He looked at her name tag and old memories from years ago flew into his mind.

"Laura?" Laura was a pediatric doctor at Metro-General; she often worked with their long-term patients, and there were a handful of occasions that he had done surgery on one of "her darling brood of children", as she'd say with a grin as he'd scoff.

But Laura's usually cheerful face was absent, and her dark skin unusually pale and tight about her eyes as she answered, "I need you to come with me."

He may have not seen her in years, but it didn't take a genius to see that she was distressed. "Laura, what's wrong?"

"Please," she answered, then pressed her lips into a tight line.

Stephen felt the cloak tighten about his shoulders, obviously sensing his own dread. "Alright," he murmured, and stepped out of the Sanctum, not bothering with a glamour spell for his clothes. She immediately descended the two steps and began her way east down Bleecker Street. He ignored the stares from those they passed and kept one eye on Laura's tense frame as the other kept a lookout for threats.

They came to a small side alley with a dumpster blocking half of its width. She turned there and he followed, readying himself for an ambush.

But there was no one there. Rather Laura pulled out what looked like some sort of burner phone— her hand was shaking— and she flipped it open and pressed a couple buttons until she pulled up a picture of what appeared to be some warehouse interior.

"They said you can get there with a picture. We need to go there."

He frowned at her words and studied the picture, then looked back at her. "Who do they have as leverage?" he asked softly.

She took in a shaky breath. "Four children. Patients."

Stephen balked; these assholes had kidnapped kids with cancer? "How long ago?" These kids were on strict dietary and medication schedules due to the diseases they were fighting, and deviation from those could lead to unpleasant side effects that made it difficult for adults, never mind children.

"About an hour," Laura answered, assuaging his fears of immediate detrimental effects. She continued quickly, lowly, "I heard you had become a superhero of some sort, Stephen, but these guys have abilities I've never seen from any of the Avengers. There's a lot of them, and for some reason they want you."

At her words, he closed his eyes briefly. He really should have suspected it earlier; he just never thought any enemy in his new world would think to target people from his old one. "I believe I know who they are. I am so sorry you were dragged into this, Laura."

"I wish it was just me and not the kids," she replied, and he couldn't argue there. "I could've told them where to stick it if that were the case. But they have my patients, and they said if you tried to call for help or bring anyone, they'll kill them." She looked down at the phone. "And if we don't go soon, I'm afraid they'll start to get suspicious."

Stephen pressed his lips together and nodded. "I would tell you to stay behind, but I know you won't listen."

She frowned at him. "I'm not leaving the children alone."

"I know." Without further ado, he placed his sling ring upon his shaking hand and drew a portal against the wall to open into the pictured warehouse. Laura hardly hesitated at its sight before following him towards it, and they stepped into the room. He let the gateway fizzle closed behind them.

As expected, he was surrounded by the same nine occultists that they had been searching for for two weeks. To the side were four children, probably ranging from seven to thirteen, sitting huddled together on the ground. Laura gave him one last apologetic look before walking slowly towards them, so as to not alarm her captors with sudden movement. She hardly needed to worry, as all of them were more or less solely focused on Stephen.

He did his best to keep his tone even. "Well, you wanted me. Here I am."

One of them stepped forward. "You are to come with us, Doctor Strange."

Stephen answered calmly, "Without a fight, I presume."

"If you wish not to face the consequences of such actions, then yes. You will surrender now."

He kept his eyes upon the spokesman rather than looking towards Laura and the kids. "And I am also to presume that if I follow these actions, you will let them go unharmed."

"Yes. They have served their purpose."

"I need more than that," Stephen replied, voice even and unmoving. "I need your word on behalf of all in your company that all five of them will remain unharmed and left in an environment non-detrimental to their survival." A sudden thought came to mind, and he added, "And my Cloak remains behind with them to serve as some form of protection." Behind him, he felt the Cloak stiffen.

The head occultist seemed somewhere between bemused and irritated by his demands; to give one's word as a sorcerer had a good deal more permanent effect than other beings. Spoken oaths had some sort of seal to make them stick amongst magic users with rather nasty consequences if broken. Eventually, he replied, "I give you my word on behalf of myself and my company that we will meet your demands in exchange for your complete and utter surrender."

Complete and utter surrender. To demand that of him meant he could not fight directly against them without consequence to his person. Stephen briefly closed his eyes and exhaled in quiet resignation. "I accept your terms."

He felt a shift in the atmosphere as the powers that wove reality together sealed their agreement. Three of them immediately moved towards him.

Still the Cloak clung onto him, reluctant to do as bid. There was no time for argument. Go, he ordered silently, offering no room for protest, and the garment detached itself from his shoulders and darted around the approaching occultists to Laura and her patients. From the corner of his eye he saw their terror turn briefly into wonder at its approach. A better memory for the children, at least.

Stephen was brought back to his own predicament as his arms were wrenched behind his back. They took his sling ring and then his wrists were secured with thick manacles that extended down to his hands and fingers, forcing them to curl inward in a manner that already hurt them. He forced himself to remain silent.

He could not, however, quite hold his tongue at the sight of what appeared to be some sort of gag that resembled a horse's bit. "You can't be serious," he said, instinctively pulling his head back.

"And have you utter any sort of spells?" asked their spokesman. "I think not."

Utter spells? Were they for real? Apparently they were, because they were coming in with the damn gag and he had little choice but to submit to it, irksome as it was.

The two holding onto his arms remained there even as another three of them started drawing sigils he did not recognize into the air. He quickly took them in, memorizing their formation and the order they appeared as best as he was able to. Then suddenly, the warehouse surrounding them began to appear fuzzy on the edges, then blur, and then there was nothing but darkness.

((There might be a sequel in another prompt. Not sure yet.))

#whumptober2019 #no.9 #shackled #stephen strange #doctor strange #fanfic #my writing #my fanfiction

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momentofmemory · 5 years

Text

fictober - day twenty-nine

Prompt #29: “I’m doing this for you.”

Fandom: Spider-Man (Marvel Cinematic Universe/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: None

Characters: Peter Parker

Words: 1719

Author’s Note: just a simple, fluffy fic of peter being soft with kids, like God intended. set post homecoming, pre-infinity war, no spoilers for anything.

>>Dumpster Damsel

Peter’s barely two hours into his patrol when he hears a child crying in an alleyway just outside of Jackson Heights.

The evening’s already been a little busier than normal—the Macy’s Parade was this morning, and even if he’s not in Manhattan, there’s still plenty of confused tourists and beleaguered locals out. The recent weather report’s got everyone in a bit of a panic, too—a cold snap’s fallen over the state, and the first proper blizzard’s supposed to roll in this weekend. Peter’s helped at least two different groups of college students install metal studs on their car tires in preparation, not to mention the many grocery bags of bread and milk he’s helped carry.

He’s never been more grateful for the heater in his suit.

The child’s distress breaks him out of the easy-going mood he’d been in, however, and Peter quickly isolates the direction of the sound and swings over, adrenaline singing through his veins.

He drops down into the alley a good twenty feet away from the sound, but his danger sense is oddly quiet.

At first he can’t see where the noise is coming from, but then he sees a tuft of fluffy black hair peeking out from behind a dumpster.

“Hey,” he says—just loud for the child to hear him, but hopefully not so loud it frightens her. “You okay, miss?”

The hair vanishes, but the sniffling continues.

Peter rises from his crouched position and, attaching a web to a nearby fire escape, swings over so that he’s hanging upside down in front of the dumpster.

“Are you lost?” he asks. “’Cause like, I’m pretty good at helping people get un-lost if you’d like.”

“No.”

Peter blinks, his mask squinting in response. “No, you don’t want help, or no, you’re not lost? Because I have it on good authority from at least two other heroes that dumpsters do not count as prime real estate.”

Two brown eyes peek around the edge of the container, and teeth chatter as their owner speaks. “Mother says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“Your mother sounds super smart.” Peter lowers his feet to the ground and lets go of the web. “Maybe we should start over. I’m Spider-Man.”

The eyes narrow. “I know.”

“So we’re not strangers then!” Peter squats down, trying to get a better glimpse of her. “If you know my name, is it okay if I know yours, too?”

A moment’s hesitation, and then:

“No.”

She scurries all the way back behind the dumpster, and Peter swears he’s never had this much trouble with a kid in his entire career.

“…Okay.” He rocks back on his heels. “You remind me of someone I used to know, so I’mma call you Mary, if that’s all right.”

She doesn’t respond, but the sniffling seems to have stopped. Peter bites his lip and starts fiddling with his web-shooter, just to have something to distract him from the cold.

He clears his throat and tries again. “So what’d you do today?”

A shuffling sound. “Mother took me to see Hello Kitty.”

“Whoa, you went to see the parade?” Peter’s brain spins. That was over nine hours ago; surely she can’t have been lost for that long. Not in these temperatures, anyway.

“…That’s awesome,” he says, remembering to hold up his side of the conversation. “I had Hello Kitty pajamas one time, and they were super fuzzy.”

The eyes return, more curious this time. Peter makes sure not to react too strongly.

“So did uh, did you walk all the way over here by yourself?”

“No.” She moves another inch closer.

“…Sightseeing?” Peter has Karen search for any reports of a missing child, and three pop up from within the last three hours.

“We went back to the hotel so daddy could take a nap, but mama wanted to go shopping.”

“Yeah, my Aunt does that sometimes.” Peter shoots a line of webbing at a rock and starts fashioning a Yo-Yo while Karen provides an annotated map of the area for him. “Did you at least get anything cool out of it?”

There’s a long pause, and then the girl finally comes all the way out from behind the dumpster. Her black hair is caught up in two bushy pigtails on top of her head, and Peter thinks she might be about six based on her size. She holds out her arm, and there’s a bright pink Hello Kitty watch strapped to her wrist.

“No way,” Peter gasps, his breath forming into mist as it hits the chilly air.

“Yeah.” She tries to hide it, Peter can tell she’s pleased by his reaction. “My mom wrote my name on it. Imani.”

“Definitely a wise woman,” Peter says, internally fist bumping himself for reaching the first-name basis.

Score One for Spider-Man, Best Babysitter Ever.

Karen blinks a warning in the corner of his feed that the temperature is rapidly dropping, and when Peter sees the thin long sleeve t-shirt Imani’s wearing, he tempers his mood.

“So,” he says, casually testing out his new yo-yo as Imani watches, “where on earth did you get such a cool watch?”

She rattles off list of stores Peter recognizes as an area off Roosevelt Ave., and if that’s where she got lost, her parents probably would have gone to the 110th Precinct to report a missing child. Karen confirms his suspicions, and she tips off the station that they’re on their way.

It’s about seven blocks from here, which won’t take long at all if Imani lets him carry her.

“Hey, Imani?” Her hand freezes from where it’d been reaching for the yo-yo and it darts behind her back, but he presses on anyway. “Since we’re Hello Kitty buds, how would you feel about swinging to the police station with me?”

Just like that, all the goodwill he’d built up vanishes, despite how much she’s clearly shivering.

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “No.”

He takes his earlier victory dance back; his reputation as Best Babysitter Ever is going to be ruined.

“It’s super fun, though,” he pleads. “Like flying in Aladdin!”

“No.”

He squints his mask’s eyes at her. She remains unmoved.

Peter does the math on how long it’ll take them to get to the police station by sidewalk, and sighs. It’s doable.

“Would you… walk with me?”

She doesn’t turn him down immediately, and Peter takes that as a positive. “I’ll even let you carry the yo-yo.”

Imani purses her lips—worriedly tinged blue, to Peter’s mind—and then snatches the yo-yo from him.

“Okay, Mr. Spider.”

Peter takes her hand gently into his own, hoping the warmth from his suit will carry over at least a little. She accepts it, to his surprise, though probably only because she’s distracted in trying to get his homespun yo-yo to work in her other hand. He leads them out onto the street, and while a few people glance their way, no one questions it. Spider-Man interacting with a child is not a novel sight for most New Yorkers.

They make it a block towards the station before Imani speaks again.

“What other heroes do you know?”

Peter glances down at her, and notices she’s shivering significantly harder than she was before. “Hm?”

“You said there were other heroes that liked du—dumpsters.”

“Yep, sure do.” Peter knows she’s not dangerously cold, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t miserable. He feels guilty about his own heater. “You wouldn’t like them, though. I don’t think they even know what Hello Kitty is.”

Imani says nothing in response. Peter gnaws at the edge of his lower lip—at the rate they’re walking, it’s going to be another thirty minutes before they get to the station. Around block two, they pass a street heater and when Imani leans towards the warmth, Peter has an idea.

“Y’know,” he says, rubbing a hand over his arm. “I think I’m getting pretty cold.”

She tears her eyes away from the heater, now several feet behind them, and looks at him with all the suspicion a six-year-old can muster. “Yeah, because you didn’t wear a jacket.”

“Have you ever seen a superhero in a bubble coat?”

She stops so abruptly Peter’s nearly thrown off balance, and a group of people clustered by one of the food trucks stare at them with open curiosity.

She rubs her hands together. “Doesn’t the wizard have a cape?”

“Dr. Strange, yeah. But capes are like, a whole other subset of clothing so it doesn’t count. Entirely different from coats.”

She scowls, her nose scrunched up in thought. “I guess so.”

They stand there for a few more moments, Imani freezing and Peter pretending to be.

She huffs dramatically. “Are you really that cold?”

Peter gives an exaggerated shiver. “Capsicle levels.”

Imani glares at the sidewalk, and Peter crosses his fingers behind his back.

“…I guess we can swing.”

Peter lights up immediately, widening his mask’s eyes in a way he’s been told is exceedingly endearing. “Ready to experience a whole new world?”

She takes the hand he’s holding out to her, and with her permission, he hoists her up onto his hip.

“I hope you know I’m doing this for you,” she says, voice sullen even as she wraps her arms around his waist.

Peter smiles. “And I’m very grateful.”

Imani shrieks in his ear as he takes off, and they make it to the precinct in less than five minutes. When she sees her mother waiting for her in the station window, she starts shrieking for an entirely different reason.

Peter feels warmer than he has all day.

He sticks around the police station just long enough to tell the cop assigned to the case where he’d found her, and is about to head back out when a small hand taps on his arm.

“You left this, Mr. Spider,” Imani says, holding out the yo-yo.

“You keep it,” Peter says, knowing the web’ll dissolve in a few hours, anyway. “And keep an eye on your mom for me, too. She seems super smart. You wouldn’t want her to get lost again.”

Imani nods. Then she squints up at him. “Were you really cold?”

Peter laughs despite himself, and shoots a web at a nearby sign before launching himself into the air.

“Not when you’re around.”

#fictober19 #peter parker fic #mcu fanfic #fanfiction #spiderman #peter parker #memsfic

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 5 years

Text

A Long Road Home Part 3

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: McKirk

Characters: Leonard McCoy, James T. Kirk, Original Characters

Word Count: 4151

Warning: Swears, implied torture, implied cannibalism

Summary: Two men from two completely different worlds meet in the aftermath of a great famine. Can they work together to save the ones they love and the remaining human race?

Author’s Note: Oh look! A new chapter after all this time! You can catch up here

Leonard's eyes were wide in fear as he stared at Jim from behind the rusted dumpster. Jim had pushed him to hide there as soon as he'd heard the crackle of radio chatter, the telltale sign soldiers were patrolling. Gun cocked at the ready, Jim peered out from the moldy, ancient sofa he'd ducked behind. A whole squad of eight soldiers marched by the dirty alley, guns at the ready.

It was the third squad they'd seen since sun up, and Jim didn't like it. Phoenix and its surrounding territories had always been quiet. It was why Jim and his group and chosen the city to set up their headquarters. The two of them were still on the outskirts, true, and Phoenix was a big place, so it was unlikely his people or their headquarters would be found, but it was still too close for comfort.

Jim motioned for Leonard to follow him as soon as the soldiers were out of sight, and together they slipped from abandoned car to abandoned car, attempting to keep to the shadows as much as possible. There was no one else to be seen, but Jim knew better than to trust his sight alone. They were still a days walk out from his team, and the sun would be setting soon. His plan had been to wait until the following morning, but with the higher presence of soldiers, it wasn't something he could risk. If the soldiers caught sight of them, they could follow them all the way back to the others. It was better to risk the gangs. Their numbers were less than the soldiers, and they wouldn't have the patience to follow from a distance. They’d just kill them both, and his people would be safe.

He managed to bring them to a derelict building, an old clothes store from Before. He picked his way across the broken glass and busted mannequins quietly, leaving Leonard to follow in his footsteps. The storeroom door was open but intact, complete with functional lock. Better than he could’ve hoped for. Ushering Leonard inside, Jim bolted the door shut behind them, with a soft sigh. Maybe when he was done with everything a shadow of safety wouldn’t be the only thing to bring others some relief.

“What’s the plan?” Leonard asked behind him, setting down his backpack with a quiet thunk. “We can’t keep movin’ out there with those guys roaming everywhere.”

“No. We can’t.” Jim leaned against the door for a moment as he collected his thoughts. He was so tired. So tired. But not yet. No sleep yet. “We’re going to stay here a couple hours, eat, rest, then move during the night.”

“During the night?! Jim are you crazy? The gangs-”

“The gangs will be the least of our problems if those bastards track us back to my people!” Jim turned suddenly, facing Leonard. “We’ll die, they’ll die, hundreds of innocent people will die!”

“And if the gangs catch us?!”

“Then we’ll just die.”

“Oh just us? Fucking fantastic.” Leonard scowled, stomping on an empty cardboard box until it was flat, and sitting on it. “Don’t suppose we have much choice.”

“Not really, no,” Jim said, mimicking Leonard’s action, only less angrily, and sitting opposite him. “But we’ll be fine. There’s just the two of us, we’ll be quiet, stick to the dark spots, and we have guns. They’re a good bargaining tool if it comes to it.”

“What’s to stop them from taking the guns and using them to kill us?”

Jim didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out two ration packs and handed one to Leonard.

They ate in silence. Leonard finished and lay down on his cardboard, not sleeping, but trying to save some energy at least. Jim’s brain was too busy to do anything like that. His mind was whirling to find the best route for them to take. Unfortunately, the path of least danger didn’t coincide with the quickest path. Usually, he’d pick safety over swiftness, but the longer it took them, the more nights they’d have to spend on the streets, and they were already looking at two. To take three, maybe four if they were doubly safe, would also be a risk. There were no good options.

The sun set behind the dust covered window faster that Jim would’ve liked, and blackness took the world once more. At least the moon was new which granted them just a little more cover. Leonard didn’t say anything as they packed up, resigned to his fate. Jim hesitated a minute, then stepped next to him, holding out a gun. Leonard looked at the weapon dumbly for a second, then up at Jim.

“It’ll be safer if we’re both armed,” He said simply, waiting for the other to take it, and tuck it carefully away. “You know how to shoot it?”

“Yeah, my dad taught me when I was young as a just in case.”

“Smart man.” Jim still didn’t fully trust Leonard, far from it, but it wasn’t a lie that they’d be safer if they were both packing, and he didn't think Leonard would try anything. Not at night. Adjusting his pack a little, Jim unlocked the door. “Let's go.”

The city was almost entirely dark. The main electric grid had long been cut off so streetlights were no longer operational, and those who survived who'd managed to hook up a personal supply weren't dumb enough to leave lights on in any visible windows. It slowed them down, having to walk so carefully to ensure they didn't trip or walk into any debris that'd make a noise. In a ghost city, the smallest of sounds could give them away. Even their footsteps were too loud for Jim's liking. He'd nearly had them remove their boots and sneak around in just socks, but he couldn't risk either of them cutting their foot on some germ infested object.

They crept their way onwards, going by the faint moonlight. Even with their wariness, they made some good time. Jim was trying to pick a route that mixed safety and speed, and so far it seemed to be working. If all went well they'd arrive at his group by sun-up the next day.

It was all going so well Jim really shouldn't have been shocked when everything went terribly wrong.

They'd just crossed a road when from out of an open sewer drain, a monster-sized rat came barging straight at them. It wasn't that Jim was scared of something as benign as a rodent, it was that he knew full well that the rats in cities carried more diseases than they had medication for.

Out of instinct, he jumped back and away from the rat. And clashed straight into Leonard. The Doctor being taken by surprise, lost his balance and grabbed onto Jim who still wasn't steady on his own feet. To both their credit neither made a sound as they crashed to the ground, yet one of Leonard’s flailing limbs caught an abandoned shopping cart, pushing it down the road.

The cart rattled as it bumped along the road, but Jim hoped it'd come to stop on its own.

Like he'd ever been that lucky.

With an echoing smash, the cart collided into an abandoned car, instantly setting off the alarm. Jim swore under the shrill beeps, leaping up to his feet and sprinting over to the vehicle, thinking only about how he needed to shut the noise up.

He smashed the window with a brick, not bothering to acknowledge the jagged edges of glass as he reached in, fumbling about until he managed to pop the hood open. Pulling out his knife as he skidded around to the front, Jim yanked up the hood fully, but the inside was barely visible. Cursing again, Jim dug out the flashlight he had stored in his pack. He didn't want to use it, but if he was quick it'd be off again soon. Holding it between his teeth, Jim looked back down into the car. His Mom had taught him about them when he was just barely seven, and so he was able to find the battery with ease. He reached in, cutting the cable and managing to pry it off the post.

Silence fell almost deafeningly loud, and Jim switched off the flashlight at the same time as he dived down the side of the car. Leonard was waiting for him, breathing heavily as he stared at Jim.

Jim held up a finger, indicating that they needed to stay still and quiet. Half the city would've heard that noise and he didn't want to risk moving again when there might be someone watching and listening.

He heard nothing, saw nothing. Jim almost started to believe they'd gotten away with it somehow.

Then, in the distance, a low rumbling sound. It was coming towards them. Jim peered around the edge of the car, and sure enough, coming over the horizon were several sets of headlights, all rolling right in their direction.

Shit.

“Run!” He hissed, dragging Leonard up with him as he set off at a sprint. The vehicles were gaining on them quickly, already the whoops and howl of the gang members could be heard. They couldn't stay on the roads now, the gang would hunt them all through the night. Their only choice was to find a secure building to hide in. Pulling them both down an alley, Jim hoped they could try and lose them in the maze of buildings. Cars couldn’t fit down some of these tiny side streets, and maybe, maybe, it’d give them a long enough chance to hide.

Roars of several motorcycles dashed those hopes.

Jim risked a glance behind them. There were at least two on their heels. Fuck. His lungs burned in his chest, his body protesting every step he took. He wasn’t used to running like this for long periods of time, he hadn’t had either enough food or sleep to maintain this pace for long, and sheer determination could only get one so far. Sooner or later he was going to falter, and they were going to get him. Leonard might get a little further; he wasn’t quite as worn. But without Jim and his knowledge, he wouldn’t last long. Someone would get him. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t.

Gritting his teeth against the ache in his legs, Jim took Leonard’s hand, using it to haul Leonard down another alley, trying to twist and turn whenever he could. Yet still, their pursuers continued to close in. They rounded yet another corner when his foot caught on an old brick. Usually, he was nimble enough to keep his footing, but now it caught him off guard and sent him tumbling down into the darkness of the ground below. He’d never get up in time, they were going to get him.

A hand grabbed at his jacket, hauling him back onto his feet before he hit the ground, and yanking him along. In the limited light, he could just make out Leonard’s silhouette. He’d saved him. He’d put himself at more risk to pause and help him. There wasn’t time to process that right now.

Jim managed to find his footing again, the two of them running, as the howls closed in on them, coming from all sides now. Another alley and Jim skidded them both to a stop. At the other end were two gang members on bikes, Jim could see their shadows, and the glint of metal in their hands. They couldn’t go that way. But they couldn’t go back either. Already the sound of the ones chasing them was drawing near. There was nowhere else to go.

He could feel Leonard watching him, waiting for him to find a way to save them. He couldn’t though. They were blocked in. He’d led them to their deaths. Jim drew out his gun, feeling the weight in his hands. Better this, than the painful death that awaited them when they were captured.

Grateful it was dark enough that the other couldn’t see, Jim raised the gun, aiming straight for Leonard’s head.

Something grabbed the edge of his jacket from behind, pulling him back with some force. Jim didn’t even have a chance to react as he tumbled backward into blackness. He tumbled down onto a cold metal floor, Leonard landing half on top of him with a soft ‘oomph’. There was a sound of metal clanging quietly, and a lock being scraped into place.

“What the fuck?” Jim scrambled for his gun, but before he could, a barrel of another was pressed against the back of his head.

A light flickered to life above them, revealing a man and a woman standing in front of them, both with guns raised. They looked normal. They didn’t have the piercings, or the face paint, or the jewelry made out of body parts that the gangs usually adorned themselves with. They looked just like him, albeit a little cleaner maybe.

“Who are you?” He asked, glancing over to see Leonard on his knees next to him, hands in the air, as the woman pointed her gun at him.

“We should be asking you that. What you doing out here? You don’t look like one of their prisoners.”

“We aren’t. We’re traveling. To find some friends,” Jim answered, trying to keep his answers to a minimum. The less they knew the better.

The man nodded, motioning with his hand, and the gun against Jim’s head disappeared, and a second man, walked in front of them. “Nighttime isn’t the best for wandering about.”

“I know, but there were soldiers everywhere today, figured we’d be better going in darkness.”

“There are no better options these days.” The first man stepped forward, offering a hand to help Jim up. “Name’s Mitch. This is my wife Rosie, and my brother Eddie.”

“Tiberius. And my pal Horatio.” Jim caught the side-eye Leonard was giving him but didn’t try and contradict him. “Our parents had an old fashioned sense of humor.”

“Seems so, lumping two kids with names like that,” Mitch laughed. Jim laughed with him, shaking his hand.

“Are we safe here? The gangs were almost on top of us.”

Eddie nodded, “They may be dangerous, but they ain’t the brightest. We camouflaged the door to look like the building, and they drive straight on by.”

It didn’t surprise Jim too much. He’d used similar techniques in the past when moving food about.

“You two dears, look half-starved! Come on in, and I’ll cook you something nice!” Rosie chimed in, already taking Leonard’s hand and ushering him through another door that led deeper into the building.

“Where are we exactly?” Jim asked as they were led through a kitchen, and into a huge dining room. It was a grand place, with high windows that had been blacked out. Jim imagined that under the layers of soundproof foam, the walls were covered with intricate decals.

“The White Palace Hotel it was called back in the day. We stumbled upon it a couple of years ago. The storage room was sealed shut still, but we managed to pry it open. It was full to the brim with more food than the three of us would need in a few lifetimes,” Eddie started to explain, as Rosie got them all to sit down. Eddie was a tall man, probably in his late thirties, with ginger hair, and a scar going down one cheek.

“We figured that at the start some rich dicks must’ve holed up in here. The windows were already blacked out, and everything was soundproofed, the locks on some of the outer doors are the best we’ve ever seen. We got lucky that in their haste to leave, someone left a door ajar,” Mitch continued. Unlike his brother, he was a little shorter and stockier. In his forties, his hair was starting recede, and he was going white at the temples. A raggedy beard concealed most of his face.

“So you decided to stay here? I can see why,” Leonard said.

Eddie nodded, “It was as good a home as any. But after a while, we decided we needed to do more. Several of the bedrooms were still in good condition, and we had more than enough food, so we started keeping an eye out for waifs and strays. We’re in a good spot here, the building’s high enough that we can keep lookout, bring people in for a night or two if they need.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Not too many people left who’d do something like that. If you ever get caught…” Jim chimed in. He was grateful that they’d saved them, but he was still suspicious. He’d never met anyone else who was as selfless as him and his team. He wanted to believe it true though, it would be nice knowing there was still a glimmer of hope in the world, and maybe they could all work together. “Don’t suppose you needed to be that high to see us though.”

“No. We heard your little racket, and after that, we just had to follow the lights. Once we saw you were heading our way, we camped out and waited. Hoped that you’d end up in the right place and the right time.”

Eddie was right, Jim thought. If they’d ended up stopping in another spot, it would’ve been too dangerous for them to step out. “Well, thank you. We’d be dead without your help.”

“Or worse,” Mitch said.

“Or worse,” he agreed.

It was then that Rosie came back into the dining room, pushing a serving cart. Just a glimpse of it had Jim’s stomach rumbling. She had a pot of minced beef, canned no doubt, but still, more than he usually had, some mashed potatoes, and a mix of peas and carrots. There wasn’t enough for any of them to have heaps, but it was definitely enough to satisfy the raw hunger clawing away at him. It took most of his self-restraint to not just dive in and eat like a slob.

The dinner was great, neither of them had eaten so well since that first night together, and Jim was glad of it. So was Leonard if the delighted groans were anything to go by. Between the warm meal, and the fading adrenaline, it left him feeling exhausted though.

“We have a room if you two want to get some sleep?” Rosie suggested as she and Mitch cleared up their empty dishes. “There’s only one bed though I’m afraid.”

Jim and Leonard exchanged a quick glance, silently deciding that they needed to stay and get some rest. Dawn must’ve been approaching already, and Jim still didn’t want to risk the soldiers. With a bit of luck, they’d sleep most of the day, hopefully, get another meal, and head out the next night. Quietly. Much more quietly. “We’d like that, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, dears,” Rosie beamed. “The room’s number two-hundred and twenty-one, on the third floor. One of the nicer ones if you ask me.”

“After being on the road, anything will be like a luxury, ma’am,” Leonard said as he and Jim rose together.

“My you two are polite young men,” Rosie chuckled, brushing her greying hair from her face. “It’s Rosie.”

“Rosie,” Leonard smiled and nodded, the two of them saying their goodnights to the group before making their way upstairs.

Their room was pretty easy to find, and Jim whistled as they stepped inside and flicked the lights on. Everything was blacked out too, so it was safe to do so. “Man, you’d have to be loaded to stay here,” he mused, taking in the high ceilings and the Queen-sized bed. He’d never seen anything so big. There was still a sofa in the lounge, though it looked a little worse for wear these days, and the ornaments that were used for decoration back in the day still remained, surprisingly in one piece and clean.

Leonard just hummed in response, and Jim realized that this must still be squalor compared to what he was used to in Georgia. He curbed his excitement, and the temptation to throw himself on the bed, instead setting their packs down by the wardrobe instead.

“Are you going to tell them who we really are?” Leonard asked, sitting on the edge of the bed as Jim scouted out the ensuite. There was running water, but it seemed only to be cold. Not all that surprising, but running water at all was a treat.

“Maybe. I’m going to talk to the others once we arrive, see if they know anything. With some luck perhaps we can all team up. It’d be good to have some more people on our side,” Jim mused, returning to the bedroom. He pulled out the knife he had tucked in his boot and slipped it under the pillow. Noticing Leonard’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “Just because I want to work with them, doesn’t mean I have to sleep without precaution.”

“Not everyone is as bad as you think they are, Jim. By all rights, we should be enemies, but we aren’t.”

“You’re the exception. With everyone else it’s taken weeks, if not months for me to know I can trust them,” he said, taking off his jacket, but keeping his boots on. He didn’t want to get caught unprepared and have to face running through the streets in just his socks. Leonard looked like he wanted to protest as he climbed under the fresh sheets, but didn’t. Jim did notice how he made a point of removing his own boots though, before joining him with a quiet groan.

They lay in silence for a while, both on their backs staring up at the ceiling. It was the closest either of them had been, and it was admittedly awkward, with neither of them wanting to wriggle about too much on the comfy mattress, or risk taking up too much of the bedding.

Jim was about to doze off regardless of the awkwardness when Leonard spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Jim frowned, shifting onto his side facing Leonard. “For what?”

“I nearly got us killed tonight. If I hadn’t hit that cart, those bastards wouldn’t have heard us, and we wouldn’t nearly have died.”

“It’s not your fault. They were already close by, for all we know they could’ve been hunting us. And besides, I was the one who knocked you over. If I hadn’t reacted like an idiot…”

“I saw that rat, Jim. Anyone would’ve reacted that way.”

“I shouldn’t have! I’m meant to be calm, collected. I reacted out of fear, and that was stupid!” Jim rolled away, putting his back to Leonard. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe he’d just kept everything bottled up for too long, but Jim felt the tears burn at his eyes, and he couldn’t let Leonard see. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing them away.

“Fear keeps us alive, Jim. Just a scratch from that monster and you’d probably be dead,” Leonard spoke softly, and Jim heard him move too before a hand came to rest on his hip. He almost pulled away, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was nice. “I’d be dead a hundred times over if it wasn’t for you. You’re an amazing leader, an even better protector, but not every mishap is your fault.”

He was right, Jim knew it. Didn’t mean he had to like it. His Mom had raised him to be accountable for every mistake, and that wasn’t a thing he could shake. But he was too tired to argue about how psychologically fucked he was. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

“Okay.” He’d expected Leonard to take his hand away, but he didn’t. He kept there, lightly curled around his hip, protectively almost.

Jim found himself liking it, he thought as he finally succumbed into a deep sleep. It was dreamless for once, no terrors sought him out, no monsters chased him. There was no fear or death, or hunger. Just a quiet peace, and a vague sense of warmth and comfort. It was the best he’d slept in his whole life.

A shout woke him. Dragging him from his sleep like a bucket of cold water. He reached for his knife out of instinct, but couldn't. His hands had been tied. The plastic of the binding digging into his wrists painfully. His ankles were bound the same. He was trapped. “Leonard?!” He shouted, trying to squirm his way onto his back. There was a muffled shout, but nothing else. “Leonard!” He yelled again, using all his effort to roll over.

He was met with something dark and solid looking hurtling towards him before everything went black.

Tagging: @medicatemedrmccoy @trustno1inapt221b @ravennaofasgard @thefanficfaerie @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @feelmyroarrrr @impalaanddemons @daytimemaniac @toosouthernforspace @dreaming-about-starfleet @skull-in-a-jar @fromashell @artemisodinson @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @onemoore @loststarlight @haveyouseenmymind

#mckirk #apocalypse au #Leonard McCoy #Jim Kirk #dystopia au #Doctor Leonard McCoy #James T. Kirk #Leonard H. McCoy #james kirk

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thesoftdumbass · 6 years

Text

Yallneedtrek’s Writing Anniversary Challenge

Hi you guys! So, I’ve been wanting to host a writing challenge for a while, and now seems like a good time to do so. November 30th marks the 2 year anniversary of when I started posting my fanfiction, starting out with a whopping 649 words on this Charles Xavier fic. Things have changed since then, I’ve written a lot more and joined a few fandoms since then, made some friends, and all in all enjoyed my time here on tumblr.

So if anybody would like to join my writing challenge, here are some things to remember while entering/posting:

~To enter the writing challenge, you must send me an ASK with a character or ship, and AU, AND a prompt from the lists below. (If you send anonymously or have multiple blogs, make sure that I know which blog you will be posting on)

~All entries are due by November 30th, 2018. There is no cut-off date to enter the challenge, as long as you think you can finish, you can enter whenever. (I will post occasional reminders and tag everybody who signed up!)

~Characters/ships can be used multiple times, as can AUs, but prompts can only be used once.

~If there’s a character/ship not on the list but that belongs in my fandoms, you can message me if you’d like to write for them and get my okay!

~You can use any writing genre: fluff, smut, angst, whatever. I would prefer angst-y fics to end happily, though!

~Important! When posting, please include Warnings, Word Count, and a Summary. Also, add a “Read More” if your fic is over 400 words so we don’t clog up everybody’s dash!

~When posting your fic, tag my blog and use the tag #yallneedtrekwritingchallenge, and send the post to me directly to make sure that I’ve seen it. I will reblog all of the fics and add them all to a masterlist to be shared when all entries are posted!

Have fun writing, lovelies!

Characters and Ships - Choose one:

Star Trek-

Jim Kirk

McKirk

Montgomery “Scotty” Scott

Spock

Pavel Chekov

Wonder Woman-

Steve Trevor

WonderTrev

Avengers-

Steve Rogers

Stucky

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Loki Odinson

Thor Odinson

Urban boys-

Leonard “Bones” McCoy

Gavin Magary

Siberius Vaako

Black Hat

Eomer

John Kennex

Any Karl Urban character, really

Other-

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Lance Tucker

Carter Baizen

Wynonna Earp

Doc Holliday

AU’s - Choose one:

Soulmate

Firefighter

Royal

Fake dating / fake married

Supernatural (any supernatural creature/phenomenon)

Neighbors

University / Fellow Professors

Artist

Flower Shop

Vikings

Called / texted the wrong number

Body Swap

Bartender

Motorcycle Club

Roadtrip

Book Shop / Library

Office

Coffee Shop

Arranged Marriage

Roommate

Writing Prompts - Choose one:

1. “But I’m not wearing pants”

2. “Why were you in a dumpster?”

3. “Just give me the ____ and nobody gets hurt”

4. “Lick me all you want, I’m not moving my hand”

5. “I did not kidnap you! I anything, I adult-snatched you.”

6. “Didn’t you ever stop and think that there’s a reason I’m here?”

7. “Next time you come in my room to scare me, try picking a better hiding spot than behind the curtains.”

8. “What do you suggest we do?”

9. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen you turn down food.”

10. “Are those my underwear?”

11. “Will you just stop talking?” “Make me.”

12. “Did you just make a joke?”

13. “And you say I’m the dramatic one”

14. “Don’t get your hopes up”

15. “Subtlety is not your strong suit”

16. “My mind does not immediately jump to murder. Oh who am I kidding, of course it does!”

17. “Do you smell something burning?”

18. “No you are not Batman, stop saying that!”

19. “If you don’t stop talking in song quotes, I swear I will end you”

20. “Who ever said that I hate you?”

21. “Who thought it was a good idea to give (him/her/them) coffee?”

22. “What is that incessant beeping?”

23. “Here, take my jacket”

24. “Say hello to your cat for me”

25. “Who are you talking to?”

26. “Stay, please”

27. “Are you dead?” “Yes.”

28. “Next time you need help, don’t come to me”

29. “Can anybody tell me why my house is on fire?!”

30. “Are you crying?” “No! Shut up.”

31. “Stop screaming, it’s just me.”

32. “Jealous is not a good look on you”

33. “Is my leg supposed to bend that way?”

34. “I would rather be stuck on a deserted island with literally anybody but you”

35. “If you get ‘Let it Go’ stuck in my head one more time, I will never speak to you again.”

36. “I am too tired to deal with your happy disposition today”

37. “That line was so cheesy, it hurts.”

38. “Can you not be sarcastic just for once?”

39. “I told you this was a bad idea”

40. “Do not throw up on me”

41. “I’m just gonna keep talking until you smile”

42. “If you’re trying to seduce me, I would reconsider.”

43. “Can I kiss you?”

44. “I must be going crazy”

45. “Do I spy a tattoo?”

46. “Am I turning into a vampire?”

47. “No, you cannot borrow my laptop! You remember what happened the last time.”

48. “Just hug me before I put someone’s head through a wall.”

49. “If you can’t tell, I am very angry.”

50. “Are those little unicorns on your boxers?”

51. “You dropped something”

52. “You must be new here”

53. “Can we watch movies and cuddle?”

54. “I love you, I hope you know that.”

55. “I need you to stop laughing and come help me”

56. “Next time, I pick the music.”

57. “Can I kill (them)?”

58. “If you can go one hour without talking, I will kiss you”

59. “Stop saying that”

60. “You’re ridiculous”

61. “I’d hate to ruin such a sweet moment, but we have to go.”

62. “Oh, I almost forgot you were here”

63. “Is it true what they say?”

64. “Is that what I think it is?”

65. “You’ve got no sense of self-preservation”

66. “You’re worrying me”

67. “Get away from me”

68. “Don’t say that”

69. “Sometimes I wish I never met you”

70. “Can you stop poking me?”

71. “Don’t tell me to calm down, you’re covered in blood!”

72. “Will you tell me a story?”

73. “There might be a small…large…dent in your car, but please don’t kill me, I can explain!”

74. “I just want to drink chocolate milk and take a nap.” “You are a grown adult.”

75. “Are you drunk?”

76. “It looks like there was a train wreck in here”

77. “You lost the bet, you know what that means”

78. “I shouldn’t be here.” “Then why are you?”

79. “I’m not going with you dressed like that”

80. “Who else is going to save you from yourself?”

81. “What kind of name is that?”

82. “That is a lot of- what even is that?”

83. “That doesn’t look like fun, it looks like a death trap”

84. “So this is what betrayal looks like”

85. “Who started the food fight?”

86. “What, my poetry isn’t good enough for you?” “You just recited Dr. Seuss.”

87. “I’ve been shot!” “Relax, it’s just a nerf bullet.”

88. “You’re trying too hard, you need to just relax.”

89. “You look like the poster-child for bad decisions”

90. “Could you be any more oblivious?”

91. “Shut your whore mouth”

92. “Say that to my face, you soggy piece of pizza”

93. “You are such a moldy shower curtain”

I really hope you guys have fun writing, and I’m looking forward to reading all of your amazing fics! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or send an ask. Love you all!

I’m adding everyone on my tag list and Urban Shitposting group just in case you want to join or signal boost!

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mad-girl-without-a-box @cd1242 @space-helen @izzy10718 @feelmyroarrrr @bookcaseninja @musikat18 @kickingitwithkirk @auduna-druitt @garnet-redtailedhero @bubblegum-star-trek @reading-in-moonlight @cuddlememerrick @loststarlight @fireboltrose7559 @lauuerodz @bkwrm523 @fearofdeathkeepsusalive @goingknowherewastaken @annathewitch @outside-the-government @queenmismatched @thefanficfaerie

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lfthinkerwrites · 5 years

Text

Like Father, Like Daughter, pt. 3

Title: From the Case Files of Edward Nigma, PI

Fandom: Batman

Rating: T

Summary: Ellen gets a lead on where Marisol is being held and unknowingly attracts the attention of a potential ally.

Previous Chapters: 1/2

AO3 Link

12:15 AM

Bolton emerged from the apartment building with a smirk. Sanchez wouldn't be a problem anymore. As he walked to his car parked across the street, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. His call was immediately answered. "This is Dr. Hugo Strange."

"It's me," Bolton answered.

"Well?" Strange demanded.

Bolton grinned. "It's all taken care of."

"Good. You can be competent when the occasion calls for it. Is that all?"

Bolton frowned. "Don't you want to know-"

"Absolutely not. I've given your 'colleagues' the necessary tools, but that is as far as my involvement goes. Neither myself or the Mayor can be connected to this in any way. Clean up your mess with as little fuss as possible." The call disconnected with a click. Bolton scowled. Would it kill the good doctor to show him a little appreciation every once in a while? He shrugged, then dialed another number. This time, the phone rang three times before it was answered.

"Bolton? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Where are you guys?"

"We're still at the place on 55th."

"Kid been giving you any trouble?"

"Nah, we've been keeping her doped up on that stuff we got from Strange."

"Good. Meet me at the old shelter on 45th and Marshall in an hour. There's been a couple of dead junkies found down there. We'll make it look like an overdose." A noise suddenly caught Bolton's attention. "Hold on a second." He whipped around. No one was out on the street that he could see, but there was an alley located between the apartment building he'd left and the next. Bolton walked into the darkness, one hand going to the pistol on his belt. Nothing but trash cans and a large dumpster. He had taken maybe ten steps in the alley when he heard a rustling behind some garbage cans to his left. Bolton pulled out his pistol. "Come out!" A black flash ran past his feet. Bolton cursed and took a step back, only to relax when he realized that it was a stray cat. He shook his head and walked back out to the street, returning to his phone call. "Sorry about that. Anyway, we're good to meet in the narrows, right?"

"Yeah, but Bolton...she's just a kid. Do we have to kill her? It's not like she knows who we are."

"She's a liability, Morton. Besides, Sanchez has to learn a little lesson about shooting his mouth off. I'll see you in an hour." Bolton hung up his phone and walked off towards his car, without another look behind him.

As soon as she was sure the man had gotten into his car, Ellen peeked out from her hiding place behind the dumpster. That was too close. She'd tried to stay as quiet as she could when she heard the man come out from the apartment building, but when he had mentioned Marisol, she couldn't help the indignant squeak that had come out. If the Old Man were there, he'd have something to say to her about that. She watched his ugly red car start, then pulled her bicycle out. As soon as the car was in motion, Ellen followed. She was able to keep sight of the car as far as a block down 11th street, but a light turned green and it sped off, faster than she could ever hope to catch up with.

"Damn it!" she swore, smacking her palms against the handlebars of her bike. Well, she really should have seen that coming. What was that address she'd heard him say? 45th and Marshall? Ellen bit her lip. That was in the middle of the Narrows neighborhood. She'd never been allowed to go there in the day, let alone in the middle of the night, God only knew what was down there-

Ellen set her jaw. Marisol was down there. And if that man got there before she did, Marisol would die. Ellen wouldn't let that happen. Swallowing her fears, Ellen made a left turn on her bike, down Marshall. Hold on, Marisol. I'm coming.

Ellen noticed the further she pedaled down Marshall that the buildings were becoming gradually more run down. She crossed the intersection of Marshall and 25th and knew she'd officially entered the Narrows neighborhood. Her heart beat in her chest from the exertion of her bicycling and from the thrill of being in such a notorious place. The only people she could see out on the street now was the occasional homeless person. It was Saturday night-well, Sunday morning now, she guessed. Where was everybody?

She'd reached the intersection of Marshall and 27th when she hit the breaks on her bike. Right in front of her were two men, huddled under a street light. They looked up at her with surprise. "What the Hell-it's a kid!"

Ellen swore and tried to go around, only for one of the men to block her. "I need to get through. Get out of my way!"

"What're you doin' out so late little girl? Wait, are you wearin' a mask?"

Ellen narrowed her eyes at the men. "None of your business!" She tried to go around again, only for the man in front of her to knock her off. She fell to the pavement with a grunt.

Another one of the men walked up to her. "We'll take your backpack too, little girl. Hand it over."

Ellen glared up at the man. "Screw you!"

The two men laughed. "Maybe when you're older," The first one said. "The backpack. Now." The man pulled a switchblade out from his pocket and Ellen's eyes widened under her mask when she saw the blade. "Don't make me ask again, little girl."

Ellen slowly pulled her backpack off. "You're making a big mistake, asshole," she said. "Did you see the question mark on my shirt?" She pointed at it for emphasis. "I'm the Riddler's kid."

The men exchanged a look with each other. "The Riddler?" one asked the other. "I didn't know he had a kid."

"He doesn't. Least, he didn't when I ran with his crew back in the day."

Jesus Christ, did every jackass in this city know the Old Man? Did he have some kind of beacon on him that attracted other assholes to him? While the men were talking with each other, Ellen unzipped her backpack and pulled out a hammer and a can of pepper spray her Gramma kept in her bedroom in case of emergency. She placed the pepper spray on the ground for now, then tightened her grip on her hammer. She crouched up, her eyes on the knees of the man closest to her. The man further away noticed her, however. "Oh shit, dude!"

Before the other man could react, Ellen lunged forward, swinging the hammer with all her might at the man's knee cap. It connected with a crunch and the man let out a scream of anger and pain. "Fuck! You little bitch!" he collapsed to the ground, his hands hugging his wounded knee to his chest. "Fuck, you broke my knee! Tommy, get her!"

The other guy lunged for her and Ellen jumped back, barely escaping his grasp. She reached down to grab the can of pepper spray and when the man charged towards her again, sprayed him dead on in the face. The man let out a shriek, covering his eyes with his hands. "Fuck! Denny, you're on your own, man!" The man ran down the street as fast as he could.

Ellen stood there, shaking a bit from the adrenaline. Holy shit. She'd taken on Narrows guys and she'd survived. Hell, she'd won. She let out a shaky laugh. If the Old Man could see her now...The first man, Denny, looked up at her, afraid. "Who-who are you?" he asked.

Ellen opened her mouth to say something, only to close it when she realized she didn't know what to say. Every superhero had some kind of catchphrase, didn't they? What should she say? 'Riddle me this-' no, she didn't want to copy the Old Man. 'Let's get dangerous?' Nah, been done before. 'In the name of the Moon, I will punish you?' No, too anime. Finally, she squared her shoulders and said in the deepest voice she could manage, "I'm Enigma, chuckle fuck!" She'd have to work on that. She then sprayed Denny in the face with her pepper spray, trying not to laugh at the shriek he let out. She then placed the pepper spray and the hammer back in her backpack, put it on and walked over to where her bicycle lay on the ground. She pulled it up, hopped on, and continued her way down Marshall, her heart soaring. If she could handle those idiots, she could get Marisol out, no problem.

She didn't realize that from the rooftops, someone had been watching her and was now following her.

Stephanie took another look down at the streets through her binoculars. "It's 12:45 and there's no sign of life, Oracle. I'm gonna stay here fifteen more minutes and then head up towards the West End."

"Good idea," Barbara said through the communicator. "Bruce doesn't want us patrolling this close to the Narrows anyway."

"And since when have I ever done what Bruce wants?" Stephanie joked. She put the binoculars back in a compartment on her belt and sat down on the roof of the building she was perched on. "Speaking of, has he spoken with Jason?"

"He's tried," Barbara answered. "But you know Jason. It didn't go well."

Stephanie didn't know Jason at all actually. She'd never met him when he was a Robin and after...she shook her head. And she thought she and Bruce had their issues. At least she'd never killed anyone. Jason didn't have any issue with her that she knew about, but that didn't mean she wanted to cross paths with him. "Great," she said. She sighed. "At least the rest of the city's quiet tonight, right?"

"Right," Barbara said, and Stephanie could tell she was glad to change the subject. "I just got done talking with Cass. She took down an armed robbery at the Fine Arts museum about an hour ago, but other than that, it's been a pretty low key night."

Stephanie huffed. "Cass has all the fun, I swear-" a sharp, pained cry caught Stephanie's ears. She turned towards the sound. It was coming from the Northeast, maybe two blocks away. Marshall and 27th. The Narrows. "Hold on, Oracle. I just heard something."

"What?"

"I'm not sure, but it sounded like someone's in trouble. I'm gonna go check it out."

"Where exactly are you going?"

Stephanie hesitated. "Marshall and 27th. I think."

"Batgirl, that's the Narrows."

Another shout reached Stephanie's ears. "Oracle, if someone's in trouble, I have to check it out. It doesn't matter where they are, right?"

Barbara sighed on the other end, which meant Stephanie had won that argument. "OK. But be careful. If you see Red Hood, don't engage. Just leave."

"No need to tell me twice," Stephanie said, pulling out her grappling hook. She aimed it at the neighboring building and took off, running across the rooftops. She made it to a building that overlooked 27th and Marshall and looked down to the street. A badly dressed man was lying on the ground, clutching his knee in pain, next to a bicycle that kay on the ground. He wasn't alone though. A slight masked figure stood over him. Stephanie realized that it was a girl. Stephanie leaned over to get a closer look and almost fell off the roof when she recognized her. "Oracle," she breathed into her communicator. "You're not going to believe this."

"What is it?"

"You remember when Damian and I ran into Nigma and his kid at Jezebel Center last December? Well, his kid is here. I think she just took out a guy who tried to jump her. And she's wearing a mask and a costume."

"You're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

"No way. It's her." Stephanie watched as the girl, what was her name, spoke to the man. She could just make out the girl calling herself Enigma and calling the man lying on the ground a 'chuckle fuck' before she sprayed him with what looked like pepper spray. The man yelled out in pain again and Stephanie shook her head. "Holy cow. Think Nigma knows what she's up to?"

"I don't want to be the one to tell him if he doesn't. What's she doing now?"

Stephanie watched Enigma pick up her bike and hop back onto it. "Looks like she's going down Marshall. I'm going to follow her and see just what she's doing out here."

"Good. I'm calling Bruce to tell him what's going on. The last thing anyone needs is for Nigma's kid to get herself on the news for breaking the Costumed Criminal Ordinance. Or worse. When it's safe, catch up to her and get her back home before anyone else sees her."

"Got it. Batgirl out." Stephanie hung up and quickly began to follow Enigma from the rooftops. Seeing her like this brought back memories of Stephanie's first days on the streets as Spoiler. Except, her motivation for putting on a costume was to prevent her father from committing crimes. What was Enigma doing out here? Did Nigma have any idea where his daughter was and what she was doing? Did he care? Stephanie followed Enigma for over fifteen blocks until she came to a stop on Marshall and 44th street. Enigma pulled over to a side street and pulled her backpack off. Stephanie watched her lock her bike to a street lamp before she put her backpack back on and walked up the street to the old abandoned homeless shelter. The old abandoned shelter that had two parked cars outside of it. "Oracle," Stephanie spoke. "I followed her to the old shelter on Marshall and 45th. There are two parked cars outside and she's walking around the building trying to look through the windows. Something weird's going on down there. What did Bruce say?"

"He's not happy. He tried to get ahold of Nigma, but he's not picking up. He said, and I quote, 'get her out of there.'"

"Sounds like Bruce." Stephanie watched as Enigma tried in vain to jimmy open a boarded up window. "I'm going down now." Time to find out just what was going on.

The thrill of winning the fight with those two idiots had worn off the moment Ellen caught sight of the abandoned shelter and the two cars that were parked in front of it. Neither of them was red, so that meant she'd beaten the Ugly Man there. She hoped that meant Marisol was still alive. There were no lights on in the building that she could see, but the windows were boarded up now. Ellen walked up to the front door and, screwing up every bit of courage she had, she turned the knob. Locked. Damn it. She should have expected that. Ellen took a step back and glared at the doorknob. More than anything, she wished she knew how to pick a lock. She'd have to try to get one of the windows open. Ellen walked around the side of the building and picked a window that was just at her level. It, like all of the other windows, was boarded up with pieces of wood nailed onto the frame. Well, she could fix that.

Ellen pulled her backpack off and set it on the ground. She opened it and pulled out her hammer. Hammer out, she got to work to try to pull out the nails. They were in deep, so it took considerable effort on her part to pull even one out. As she worked, Ellen thought about just how she was going to manage to get Marisol out without being caught. Hopefully, the people who were guarding her would be just as stupid as the guys she'd fought earlier tonight. But what if they weren't? Ellen frowned as she finally succeeded in pulling one nail out. Ok, maybe she could distract them somehow and get them out of the shelter. Then she could get Marisol and they'd make a break for it. But wait, the creep from outside her apartment had said something about making her death look like an overdose. Did that mean she was drugged? Marisol was taller than Ellen was, how was she going to manage to carry her out if she was drugged? How would she get her on the bike without her falling off? Ellen paused in her work and considered her options, biting her lip. There was a pay phone just up the block and she had about two dollars in change in her sweatshirt pocket, she had a location and proof now that Marisol was in danger, maybe she should call the Old Man-Ellen shook her head. He'd be too busy throwing a tantrum over what she'd done to listen to her. And anyway, by the time he could get here, if he decided to care, that creep would be here and it would be too late for Marisol. Ellen was on her own. With that thought in mind, Ellen returned to her work, pulling out another nail. That was half of one board. It was starting to come loose now. Once Ellen got it off, the next should be easier, she could sneak in the building without being seen and figure out her next step from there-

Ellen felt more than heard the presence of someone behind her. Gripping her hammer tight, she turned around ready to fight them off, only to have her mouth drop open in shock when she saw just who it was. "You-"

Batgirl raised a finger to her lips. "Don't make a sound."

Ellen squeaked a bit but quickly nodded. She couldn't afford to get caught now-well, too late for that. Any other time, she'd be thrilled to see Batgirl again, she could feel her face flush now, actually. "What-" she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

Batgirl raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing," she answered. "Does your Dad know you're here?"

Ellen frowned a bit at the mention of the Old Man. "As if!"

"Does anyone know you're here?"

"You now, I guess," Ellen shrugged. "I can explain."

"I'd love to hear it."

#from the case files of edward nigma #PI verse #riddler's daughter #stephanie brown

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