A collection of unrelated Worm one shots, as it says on the tin.
Unrelated Worm One Shots
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Things That Matter, Things That Don't
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A character study of Colin Wallis, from childhood to becoming Defiant.
Warning for Child Neglect.
-----
You love your parents, you think, in a cold, distant way.
You love them because you're supposed to. Because they pay for the roof over your head, for the food you eat, for the clothes you wear. You love them as well as you can love strangers.
They're never there. They're working.
(Work matters.)
(Work matters more than you do.)
They divorce.
Nothing changes.
(Sometimes, you can't remember which one is supposed to have custody of you.)
You grow up on leftovers you reheat yourself, on birthday gifts opened alone, on grocery money left on countertops.
You raise yourself in a empty house.
(You look up home in the dictionary, but you still don't understand what it means.)
You don't really like school, you think, but you're good at it.
You never skip, even though you're not sure your parents would even notice. You always pay attention to the teacher, always turn your homework in on time, always do the extra credits.
You don't let yourself get anything but As.
(Work matters.)
(If you work hard enough, so will you.)
You try your best.
It's not enough.
(You keep going anyway, because you may not be good enough now, but you will be.)
The teachers compliment your drive, your grades, your maturity and independence. They say you will go far.
You learn to be proud of it.
(It's not enough, but then, you don't know what would be.)
You don't like people, you think, but you make do.
You don't understand the unwritten codes, the ones everybody knows instinctively. You put your foot in your mouth, you're too blunt, you have no patience for small talk and pleasantries.
You feel like a stranger in the crowd.
(Those things matter.)
(You have to learn them if you want to.)
You learn.
It's hard.
(Sometimes, you stay awake at night wondering what is wrong with you.)
You learn the unwritten rules, the pleasantries, the small talk. You learn to understand expressions and tones like a second language.
You never stops having to think about it.
(You do your best, but you never quite figure out how to be kind.)
You like being a hero, you think, in a visceral, guilty way.
You like it because you're supposed to. Because you get to help people, to fight evil, to make the world a better place. You like it because people know your name.
You chose it for yourself.
(Heroes matter.)
(If you are one, so do you.)
Hero trains you.
Hero dies.
(You still have Hannah, and you still have Michael. They're not quite friends, but they're the closest you ever had.)
The complex game of small talk and handshakes bothers you even more since you got powers, the waste of time and effort like splinters under your skin, but as you rise through the Protectorate it becomes more and more important.
You don't like the game, but you play it.
(You've worked too hard to settle where you are.)
You love your team, you think, in a quiet, detached way.
You love them because you're supposed to. Because you're ready to die for them, and them for you, and you might actually have to in the end. You love them because you've fought side by side for years.
You care for each other, but you don't know how to be close.
(The work matters.)
(The work matters more than you do.)
They care.
It's not enough.
(There's something hungry inside you, something starving you you don't know how to feed.)
You didn't have a lot to start with, and Brockton Bay is falling apart, and so are the people supposed to protect it, and you give away part of yourself trying to keep it together. Dauntless is bright, and kind, easily getting better with each passing day.
You think you might hate him for it.
(You try to hide it, and know you failed.)
You love Dragon, you think, in a way you're not quite sure what to do with.
You love her because she's kind. Because she's smart, and good, and doesn't ask you to talk to say nothing. You love her because of a thousand little things you can't quite name.
You don't know why you love her, but you do.
(Dragon matters.)
(Dragon matters more than you do.)
You love her.
She doesn't.
(It's all right. She doesn't owe you anything, and her love least of all.)
You stand in front of her without your mask and she calls you by your name, the one you didn't choose, the one you gave in trust, and she doesn't give you hers.
She doesn't owe it to you.
(It still creates a wall you don't know how to breach.)
You hate Skitter, you think, with a mix of anger and despair.
You hate her because she fooled you. Because she's rising as you fall, because she's rising from your fall, because you're desperate and you don't know what to do. You hate her because she destroyed you.
You don't think she meant to, and you hate her all the more for it.
(Work matters.)
(You are nothing without it.)
She rises.
You fall.
(You're not kind, but she was scared when you met her, and so you tried to be.)
You wanted the glory from Lung, of course you did, but you wanted it for your work, on your own merit. You asked for it to keep her safe. You did not build yourself on lies.
You lose the work of fifteen years in a matter of days.
(You make your worst mistakes as your life falls apart around you.)
You like being Defiant, you think, more than you liked being Armsmaster.
You like it because it's a second chance. Because you like designing your own body, because it allows you to play your strengths, because you have a whole new way opened before you. You like it because you're in love.
You know you don't deserve it, but you seize the chance anyway.
(Dragon matters.)
(For her, at least, so do you.)
Mannequin came.
You spat in his face.
(You hate him, but you're glad. You're not sure Dragon would have told you the truth if you hadn't almost died.)
Mannequin was a wake up call, a twisted mirror, the realization of what you became. You look back, but you can't quite tell when your name became more important than your work.
You can't right the wrongs you did.
(You can try to help Dragon, to make the world a better place.)
You trust her to lead you right.
Warning for Child Neglect.
-----
You love your parents, you think, in a cold, distant way.
You love them because you're supposed to. Because they pay for the roof over your head, for the food you eat, for the clothes you wear. You love them as well as you can love strangers.
They're never there. They're working.
(Work matters.)
(Work matters more than you do.)
They divorce.
Nothing changes.
(Sometimes, you can't remember which one is supposed to have custody of you.)
You grow up on leftovers you reheat yourself, on birthday gifts opened alone, on grocery money left on countertops.
You raise yourself in a empty house.
(You look up home in the dictionary, but you still don't understand what it means.)
You don't really like school, you think, but you're good at it.
You never skip, even though you're not sure your parents would even notice. You always pay attention to the teacher, always turn your homework in on time, always do the extra credits.
You don't let yourself get anything but As.
(Work matters.)
(If you work hard enough, so will you.)
You try your best.
It's not enough.
(You keep going anyway, because you may not be good enough now, but you will be.)
The teachers compliment your drive, your grades, your maturity and independence. They say you will go far.
You learn to be proud of it.
(It's not enough, but then, you don't know what would be.)
You don't like people, you think, but you make do.
You don't understand the unwritten codes, the ones everybody knows instinctively. You put your foot in your mouth, you're too blunt, you have no patience for small talk and pleasantries.
You feel like a stranger in the crowd.
(Those things matter.)
(You have to learn them if you want to.)
You learn.
It's hard.
(Sometimes, you stay awake at night wondering what is wrong with you.)
You learn the unwritten rules, the pleasantries, the small talk. You learn to understand expressions and tones like a second language.
You never stops having to think about it.
(You do your best, but you never quite figure out how to be kind.)
You like being a hero, you think, in a visceral, guilty way.
You like it because you're supposed to. Because you get to help people, to fight evil, to make the world a better place. You like it because people know your name.
You chose it for yourself.
(Heroes matter.)
(If you are one, so do you.)
Hero trains you.
Hero dies.
(You still have Hannah, and you still have Michael. They're not quite friends, but they're the closest you ever had.)
The complex game of small talk and handshakes bothers you even more since you got powers, the waste of time and effort like splinters under your skin, but as you rise through the Protectorate it becomes more and more important.
You don't like the game, but you play it.
(You've worked too hard to settle where you are.)
You love your team, you think, in a quiet, detached way.
You love them because you're supposed to. Because you're ready to die for them, and them for you, and you might actually have to in the end. You love them because you've fought side by side for years.
You care for each other, but you don't know how to be close.
(The work matters.)
(The work matters more than you do.)
They care.
It's not enough.
(There's something hungry inside you, something starving you you don't know how to feed.)
You didn't have a lot to start with, and Brockton Bay is falling apart, and so are the people supposed to protect it, and you give away part of yourself trying to keep it together. Dauntless is bright, and kind, easily getting better with each passing day.
You think you might hate him for it.
(You try to hide it, and know you failed.)
You love Dragon, you think, in a way you're not quite sure what to do with.
You love her because she's kind. Because she's smart, and good, and doesn't ask you to talk to say nothing. You love her because of a thousand little things you can't quite name.
You don't know why you love her, but you do.
(Dragon matters.)
(Dragon matters more than you do.)
You love her.
She doesn't.
(It's all right. She doesn't owe you anything, and her love least of all.)
You stand in front of her without your mask and she calls you by your name, the one you didn't choose, the one you gave in trust, and she doesn't give you hers.
She doesn't owe it to you.
(It still creates a wall you don't know how to breach.)
You hate Skitter, you think, with a mix of anger and despair.
You hate her because she fooled you. Because she's rising as you fall, because she's rising from your fall, because you're desperate and you don't know what to do. You hate her because she destroyed you.
You don't think she meant to, and you hate her all the more for it.
(Work matters.)
(You are nothing without it.)
She rises.
You fall.
(You're not kind, but she was scared when you met her, and so you tried to be.)
You wanted the glory from Lung, of course you did, but you wanted it for your work, on your own merit. You asked for it to keep her safe. You did not build yourself on lies.
You lose the work of fifteen years in a matter of days.
(You make your worst mistakes as your life falls apart around you.)
You like being Defiant, you think, more than you liked being Armsmaster.
You like it because it's a second chance. Because you like designing your own body, because it allows you to play your strengths, because you have a whole new way opened before you. You like it because you're in love.
You know you don't deserve it, but you seize the chance anyway.
(Dragon matters.)
(For her, at least, so do you.)
Mannequin came.
You spat in his face.
(You hate him, but you're glad. You're not sure Dragon would have told you the truth if you hadn't almost died.)
Mannequin was a wake up call, a twisted mirror, the realization of what you became. You look back, but you can't quite tell when your name became more important than your work.
You can't right the wrongs you did.
(You can try to help Dragon, to make the world a better place.)
You trust her to lead you right.
I realized after writing this that Hero having mentored Armsmaster is fanon, but since it works timeline-wise I'm leaving it there.
MaimakteriAnn
(Verified Sleepy)
- Location
- Enormous And Round Terran Homeworld
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Dr
It was a good character study. Not a fan of second person narrative.
Romantic Entanglement
- Pronouns
- He/Him
---
When Rory graduates from the Wards to the Protectorate, he doesn't know much about them.
The Wards are, in Brockton Bay, under the responsibility of the PRT, and their headquarters are in different buildings, which themselves are in different parts of the city. Their interactions are limited.
So no, Rory doesn't know a lot about his new coworkers.
He knows their powers. The most obvious aspects of their personality. Due to a complex incident involving Squealer and girl scouts, that Dauntless's favorite syrup flavor is cactus.
Oh, and he knows Assault and Battery are married.
Which makes walking on Assault kissing Miss Militia incredibly awkward.
It takes two days to Rory to come to a decision.
He's the new guy. He hasn't found his place in the team yet. He doesn't want Battery to be mad at him for bringing bad news. Or Assault for telling on him. Or Miss Militia for interfering in her affair with Assault.
He can't believe they're having an affair.
But in the end, Battery – Samantha, she wants him to call her Samantha – deserves to know.
It's the right thing to do.
When Rory goes to see her in her office, the door is open, so he doesn't bother knocking.
She's kissing Velocity.
Rory is conflicted again.
Should he tell Battery? Should he tell Assault? Should he tell both? Should he keep quiet, stay out of it, and let them sort their mess of a relationship by themselves?
Maybe he could ask for advice to Daun… To Shawn. He's been pretty friendly so far.
That's a good plan.
Until he overhears him talking about the date he's planning to take Miss Militia on.
Also, the way he rests his head in Velocity's lap on the break room's sofa is not platonic.
They're all terrible, horrible, cheating people.
The only sane man here is Armsmaster, and no, Rory is not going to call him Colin, thank you very much.
Armsmaster is serious. Armsmaster is professional. Armsmaster doesn't have time for petty drama. Rory isn't going to walk on him kissing Velocity or anything like that.
Right?
Well.
No.
Rory definitely did just walk on Armsmaster kissing Velocity in the break room.
Rory is done.
Done.
Done.
He's just going to do his job and ignore his teammates' drama.
And hope very hard he manages to stay out of it when it inevitably blows up in their faces.
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Lady Cob
- Pronouns
- He/Him
There are three blocks in Brockton Bay where gang members have stopped going.
She will know.
(She always does.)
She will be displeased.
(And you don't want to displease her, do you?)
There is a cape in Brockton Bay nobody ever saw.
Her name is Cob.
(The spiders whispered it to those who asked after her.)
The people in her blocks have taken to precede it with 'Lady', for she is kind and she protects them.
(For you never know what she might hear.)
There is a place in Brockton Bay Lady Cob watches over.
You can't see her, but you know she's there by the spiders on the walls spinning too-thick Webs.
(If she needs to talk to you, the spiders will whisper her message.)
Lady Cob keeps the peace in her blocks.
(She is judge, jury, and executioner.)
There are three blocks in Brockton Bay where people are happy.
They are happy because they are safe.
(Lady Cob keeps good people safe.)
They feel safe because if they are good, they have no reason to be scared.
(You aren't scared, are you?)
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- Location
- Jackson, Alabama
You know, I think I AM scared.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Good thing it was the point, then.
There's a joke in there about the mention of the word blow and the idea of him being unable to stay out of it and joining said polyamorous relationship, but I'm not witty enough to make it, nor knowledgeable enough to know if it will bring the mods down on me.
Also, what's the age gap between Rory and the rest of the ENE Protectorate? Because there would be some raised eyebrows if he did.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm not sure of what the age gap would be. I think Assault and Battery are in their twenties, while Armsmaster is described by Taylor as being in his late twenties/early thirties, but I don't know the others' ages. However, an adult dating someone they knew as a teenager, especially one they had authority over, makes me very uncomfortable, and so Rory will not join the polycule.
And I'm sorry to say that the joke was unintentional.
Friendly Neighborhood Cat
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Contrary to popular opinion, Colin Wallis does have a house, in which he does, occasionally, sleep.
Just because he spends more nights in the Rig than there doesn't mean he doesn't have a house.
He should probably do something about the AC. As it is, he's going to have to keep his bedroom window open if he wants to sleep tonight. The room is to hot for him to do otherwise.
A weight on his legs wakes Colin up in the middle of the night.
He doesn't react at first, mind still too foggy too understand what is going on, until the weight on his legs shift.
He turns on the light and sits up, mentally preparing for a fight.
The cat in his lap purrs.
Colin stares at it.
The cat keeps purring, and attempts to climb on his chest.
Ten minutes later, Colin has finally managed to get himself out from under the cat without harming the animal.
(No one can know about this. No one. Ever.)
The cat. Is still. Purring.
And it's loud, too. Like a small car engine. Are cats supposed to be that loud when they purr?
Colin is too sleep deprived for this shit.
The cat follows Colin around across his house like a big, furry duckling who swallowed a defective engine.
Colin isn't sure how to get it out of the house. Carrying it would be the easiest solution, but…
The cat is small. And thin. Full of tiny, delicate bones. Colin can't possibly pick it up without breaking something.
The cat is very, very thin.
The cat rubs itself against his legs.
It looks hungry. It probably came in looking for food.
Colin opens a can of tuna.
If he gives it what it wants, it will probably leave.
A Mouse Called Imogen Cole
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Robin found the mouse while coming back from a patrol.
It was a small, quivering little thing, backed in a corner by a cat about to pounce.
Robin scared the cat away and, after a second of hesitation, took the mouse with him.
It was just too cute not too.
---
Closer inspection confirmed that the mouse was, actually, a female, and Robin decided to call her Imogen, after the old lady living in the house beside his. He also decided to keep her on PHQ.
The latter decision proved to be a mistake when Imogen then proceeded to escape the box he was keeping her in.
Fortunately, he found her before any evil could befall her.
Unfortunately, he did not find her before she could eat through the wiring of Armsmaster's coffee machine.
Robin decided to change Imogen's place of residence.
---
The Wards were surprisingly enthusiastic about their new unofficial mascot.
Clockblocker did insist to append the surname "Cole", after his old English teacher, to the name she already had, but Robin is fine with that. "Imogen Cole" has a nice ring to it.
He trusts them to take care of her.
It was a small, quivering little thing, backed in a corner by a cat about to pounce.
Robin scared the cat away and, after a second of hesitation, took the mouse with him.
It was just too cute not too.
---
Closer inspection confirmed that the mouse was, actually, a female, and Robin decided to call her Imogen, after the old lady living in the house beside his. He also decided to keep her on PHQ.
The latter decision proved to be a mistake when Imogen then proceeded to escape the box he was keeping her in.
Fortunately, he found her before any evil could befall her.
Unfortunately, he did not find her before she could eat through the wiring of Armsmaster's coffee machine.
Robin decided to change Imogen's place of residence.
---
The Wards were surprisingly enthusiastic about their new unofficial mascot.
Clockblocker did insist to append the surname "Cole", after his old English teacher, to the name she already had, but Robin is fine with that. "Imogen Cole" has a nice ring to it.
He trusts them to take care of her.
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People Watching
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Rosa's neighbor isn't often home.
Rosa knows many things about her neighbors, probably more than they think she does.
It's been a long time since Angela and Maria left to built their own families. Juanita has children of her own, now.
There isn't much for her to do with her day beside watching the neighbors.
And the one in the appartement in front of hers isn't often home.
The Neighbor comes home late, when he comes at all. Sometimes a full night goes by before she sees him, or two, or three. The longest time he went without going home was two weeks, but it's far from usual, and Rosa thinks he must have been on vacations.
Curious. Very curious.
Rosa resolves to keep watching the Neighbor.
She's always liked mysteries.
Rosa might be in slightly over her head.
She thinks the Neighbor might be a cape.
Since there seemed to be no clear pattern as to his absences, she took the habit of writing them down on a calendar, in the hope of discerning one.
There is, indeed, a pattern. The absences almost always occur either when cape violence flairs up in the city, or after Endbringers attacks.
The Neighbor is probably a cape.
Since it is pretty unlikely that anyone will suddenly realize Rosa knows the Neighbor is a cape, she decides to keep watching him.
She wonders which cape he is?
Hmm.
He's not home during Endbringers attacks, which means he's part of the Protectorate, and only one of the Protectorate heroes have a beard.
Hmm.
Maria asked her to watch her children for the weekend.
Olivia, Julia and José are delightful and lively, and it's always a treat to have them over.
They spend a lovely day at the Boardwalk, and José is surexcited as they go home, and runs straight into the Neighbor.
He takes it pretty well, and Rosa finally gets a formal introduction, and with it, his name.
Later, when Maria comes to get Olivia, Julia and Jose, she asks Rosa how she is doing. If there is anything new in her life.
Rosa thinks about the Neighbor.
She doesn't say I discovered Armsmaster's secret identity. It sounds like bad decision making.
"I got to know one of my neighbors," Rosa says. "He seems to be a pretty good guy so far."
Rosa knows many things about her neighbors, probably more than they think she does.
It's been a long time since Angela and Maria left to built their own families. Juanita has children of her own, now.
There isn't much for her to do with her day beside watching the neighbors.
And the one in the appartement in front of hers isn't often home.
The Neighbor comes home late, when he comes at all. Sometimes a full night goes by before she sees him, or two, or three. The longest time he went without going home was two weeks, but it's far from usual, and Rosa thinks he must have been on vacations.
Curious. Very curious.
Rosa resolves to keep watching the Neighbor.
She's always liked mysteries.
Rosa might be in slightly over her head.
She thinks the Neighbor might be a cape.
Since there seemed to be no clear pattern as to his absences, she took the habit of writing them down on a calendar, in the hope of discerning one.
There is, indeed, a pattern. The absences almost always occur either when cape violence flairs up in the city, or after Endbringers attacks.
The Neighbor is probably a cape.
Since it is pretty unlikely that anyone will suddenly realize Rosa knows the Neighbor is a cape, she decides to keep watching him.
She wonders which cape he is?
Hmm.
He's not home during Endbringers attacks, which means he's part of the Protectorate, and only one of the Protectorate heroes have a beard.
Hmm.
Maria asked her to watch her children for the weekend.
Olivia, Julia and José are delightful and lively, and it's always a treat to have them over.
They spend a lovely day at the Boardwalk, and José is surexcited as they go home, and runs straight into the Neighbor.
He takes it pretty well, and Rosa finally gets a formal introduction, and with it, his name.
Later, when Maria comes to get Olivia, Julia and Jose, she asks Rosa how she is doing. If there is anything new in her life.
Rosa thinks about the Neighbor.
She doesn't say I discovered Armsmaster's secret identity. It sounds like bad decision making.
"I got to know one of my neighbors," Rosa says. "He seems to be a pretty good guy so far."
Icarus soared
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Taylor got more than just powers from the locker. She got wings.
All capes have wings.
Taylor's wings are bug wings, of course. They're not made of light or feathers like Legend's or Myrddin's, not butterfly or fairy wings either. They're not pretty, or enchanting, not the king of wings she would have dreamed of.
Taylor looked them up on internet. They're ant wings.
It could be worse, Taylor supposes. Ant wings aren't pretty, but they're not ugly either.
Still.
Taylor doesn't like the idea of being an ant. Of being a small, weak thing to be crushed under boots.
People say Skitter has mosquito wings.
Taylor doesn't bother trying to correct them. What would be the point?
Mosquitoes are villainous, and she is pretending to be a villain, after all.
She is a villain.
Mosquitoes don't appear to be much, at first glance. An annoyance, at worse. Not a threat.
But in the end, mosquitoes kill, and so does she.
Glenn says Weaver will have bee wings. It's the less villainous bug he could plausibility associate to her.
Taylor is fine with that, mostly. At least, it's not butterfly or fairy wings, not something pretty and useless.
Bees sting.
Bees are also industrious, and so Taylor must be, if she wants to prevent the end of the world.
Taylor doesn't only lose her powers during Gold Morning. She loses her wings, too, torn apart and left to rot amongst the ruins.
It's all right.
They never let her fly anyway.
All capes have wings.
Taylor's wings are bug wings, of course. They're not made of light or feathers like Legend's or Myrddin's, not butterfly or fairy wings either. They're not pretty, or enchanting, not the king of wings she would have dreamed of.
Taylor looked them up on internet. They're ant wings.
It could be worse, Taylor supposes. Ant wings aren't pretty, but they're not ugly either.
Still.
Taylor doesn't like the idea of being an ant. Of being a small, weak thing to be crushed under boots.
People say Skitter has mosquito wings.
Taylor doesn't bother trying to correct them. What would be the point?
Mosquitoes are villainous, and she is pretending to be a villain, after all.
She is a villain.
Mosquitoes don't appear to be much, at first glance. An annoyance, at worse. Not a threat.
But in the end, mosquitoes kill, and so does she.
Glenn says Weaver will have bee wings. It's the less villainous bug he could plausibility associate to her.
Taylor is fine with that, mostly. At least, it's not butterfly or fairy wings, not something pretty and useless.
Bees sting.
Bees are also industrious, and so Taylor must be, if she wants to prevent the end of the world.
Taylor doesn't only lose her powers during Gold Morning. She loses her wings, too, torn apart and left to rot amongst the ruins.
It's all right.
They never let her fly anyway.
Not Forever, But Memories
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The first time Joshua kisses Colin, they just fought Behemoth.
They're alive. They made it. Through the chaos, through the earth shaking and the lightning strikes and the people dying around them.
People call it the Hero Killer.
They're alive. They made it, and Colin is right there.
The metal of their armors grates uncomfortably against each other, and the kiss tastes like blood from Colin's split lip.
They're alive.
It becomes something of a ritual between them, to spend the night together after a brush with death.
They don't live together. They don't even live in the same city, most of the time, Colin's strike squad moving across the country, following the last problem to pop up.
They still see each other, though, when something happens that needs all hands on deck, or when things calm down long enough for Colin to spend a few days with him, first in New York, then in Philadelphia.
They talk. About the last fight, and the next, and the progresses they have made and the mistakes to avoid, and it feels nice. Joshua is still Chevalier, Colin is still Armsmaster, but they're not alone.
They're alive.
They might not survive the next fight, but at least, they made it through this one.
Not everyone is as lucky as they are.
They're standing in the wreckage after a Leviathan attack, knee-deep in seawater and trying not to think about how the civilians must have felt as they saw the waves coming, too fast for them to reach the shelters.
There are dead bodies in the water. Heroes. Villains. Children.
"I want to kill one of them," Colin says. "The Endbringers. I want them to die, and I want to kill them myself."
Joshua doesn't know what to say to that.
Colin is sent to Brockton Bay to lead the local Protectorate team, and they start to see each other less, both kept in place by their responsibilities.
They call each other instead.
It's not the same.
They still see each other at Endbringer fights, or when something happens and all hands on deck are needed. They still care about each other.
Colin still calls.
Sometimes.
They just fought Behemoth when Joshua realizes he hasn't talked to Colin in over two months.
Oh.
It's over, isn't it ?
Joshua bit the inside of his mouth during the fight.
He tastes blood.
They're alive. They made it. Through the chaos, through the earth shaking and the lightning strikes and the people dying around them.
People call it the Hero Killer.
They're alive. They made it, and Colin is right there.
The metal of their armors grates uncomfortably against each other, and the kiss tastes like blood from Colin's split lip.
They're alive.
It becomes something of a ritual between them, to spend the night together after a brush with death.
They don't live together. They don't even live in the same city, most of the time, Colin's strike squad moving across the country, following the last problem to pop up.
They still see each other, though, when something happens that needs all hands on deck, or when things calm down long enough for Colin to spend a few days with him, first in New York, then in Philadelphia.
They talk. About the last fight, and the next, and the progresses they have made and the mistakes to avoid, and it feels nice. Joshua is still Chevalier, Colin is still Armsmaster, but they're not alone.
They're alive.
They might not survive the next fight, but at least, they made it through this one.
Not everyone is as lucky as they are.
They're standing in the wreckage after a Leviathan attack, knee-deep in seawater and trying not to think about how the civilians must have felt as they saw the waves coming, too fast for them to reach the shelters.
There are dead bodies in the water. Heroes. Villains. Children.
"I want to kill one of them," Colin says. "The Endbringers. I want them to die, and I want to kill them myself."
Joshua doesn't know what to say to that.
Colin is sent to Brockton Bay to lead the local Protectorate team, and they start to see each other less, both kept in place by their responsibilities.
They call each other instead.
It's not the same.
They still see each other at Endbringer fights, or when something happens and all hands on deck are needed. They still care about each other.
Colin still calls.
Sometimes.
They just fought Behemoth when Joshua realizes he hasn't talked to Colin in over two months.
Oh.
It's over, isn't it ?
Joshua bit the inside of his mouth during the fight.
He tastes blood.
Love Language
- Pronouns
- He/Him
There is food in the kitchen.
There is a lot of food in the kitchen. Fancy food, as much as possible with Drachenheim's limited resources. His favorites, or as close as Dragon could come to. It must have taken her at least the entire afternoon to prepare everything.
Colin feels a surge of affection.
God, is he lucky to have her.
Colin manages to convince Dragon to skip the candles, but not the birthday song.
She even got him a gift.
"You didn't have to," Colin says. "Your presence is everything I need."
"I wanted to," Dragon says.
The gift is soft, green fabric, wrapped in a cloth bag. A scarf, Colin realizes as he unfolds it, matching with Dragon's own.
Colin puts it on.
"I love you," he tells Dragon as he leans in for a kiss.
"I love you too," she says, and she kisses him back.
There is a lot of food in the kitchen. Fancy food, as much as possible with Drachenheim's limited resources. His favorites, or as close as Dragon could come to. It must have taken her at least the entire afternoon to prepare everything.
Colin feels a surge of affection.
God, is he lucky to have her.
Colin manages to convince Dragon to skip the candles, but not the birthday song.
She even got him a gift.
"You didn't have to," Colin says. "Your presence is everything I need."
"I wanted to," Dragon says.
The gift is soft, green fabric, wrapped in a cloth bag. A scarf, Colin realizes as he unfolds it, matching with Dragon's own.
Colin puts it on.
"I love you," he tells Dragon as he leans in for a kiss.
"I love you too," she says, and she kisses him back.
Sponge Cake and Swiss Knives
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Colin has a headache.
It was to be expected, really. He worked until four in the morning before sleeping at his desk, and it's only eight. At least he's caught up on the requisition forms.
Colin stretches his arms and back, and gets up.
Coffee. He needs coffee.
When Colin reaches the break room, his entire team is there.
There is a cake on the table, besides a small pile of gift. The "Happy Birthday" banner has been taken out of its drawer and hung to the Wall.
Shit. Shit. Whose birthday is it? He completely forgot.
"Happy birthday , Colin!" Hannah says.
Oh. Right.
He completely forgot.
It turns out that five people singing "Happy Birthday" with varying degrees of enthusiasm does not mesh well with Colin's headache, and makes the whole thing more painful than strictly necessary.
Colin valiantly keeps on his most sincere smile anyway. They did go through the effort of preparing him a surprise birthday party.
Colin wishes for a murder-free year, fully aware that he won't get it, and blows the candles.
He really needs to find a way to tell Hannah he hates sponge cakes one day.
Colin opens his presents.
Hannah got him a box with an assortment ridiculously expensive chocolates. They look delicious.
Assault and Samantha decided to make a common gift, and picked some kind of scotch, which is inconvenient since Colin doesn't drink.
Robin and Dauntless both got him Swiss army knives, and are mortified by the double gift.
Colin already had five different Swiss army knives from previous Christmas and birthdays, and resolves to never tell either of them.
Samantha insists they need to take a group picture, and Colin looks at Hannah, who has lowered her bandana to show her face, then at Robin, who removed his mask and covered his bodysuit with a pink hoodie, and finally at the three others, entirely in their civvies.
"You can't take it outside this building," he says, and Robin is tasked with setting up the camera.
Colin hopes his wince at the flash isn't too visible.
Colin puts the knives and the bottle of scotch in a bag with the intention of bringing them to his house and putting them on the same shelf as his other Swiss army knives, and hides the chocolates in his desk drawer for a very bad day. After a moment of hesitation, he pins the picture to the wall above his desk.
It was nice of them all to remember his birthday.
It was to be expected, really. He worked until four in the morning before sleeping at his desk, and it's only eight. At least he's caught up on the requisition forms.
Colin stretches his arms and back, and gets up.
Coffee. He needs coffee.
When Colin reaches the break room, his entire team is there.
There is a cake on the table, besides a small pile of gift. The "Happy Birthday" banner has been taken out of its drawer and hung to the Wall.
Shit. Shit. Whose birthday is it? He completely forgot.
"Happy birthday , Colin!" Hannah says.
Oh. Right.
He completely forgot.
It turns out that five people singing "Happy Birthday" with varying degrees of enthusiasm does not mesh well with Colin's headache, and makes the whole thing more painful than strictly necessary.
Colin valiantly keeps on his most sincere smile anyway. They did go through the effort of preparing him a surprise birthday party.
Colin wishes for a murder-free year, fully aware that he won't get it, and blows the candles.
He really needs to find a way to tell Hannah he hates sponge cakes one day.
Colin opens his presents.
Hannah got him a box with an assortment ridiculously expensive chocolates. They look delicious.
Assault and Samantha decided to make a common gift, and picked some kind of scotch, which is inconvenient since Colin doesn't drink.
Robin and Dauntless both got him Swiss army knives, and are mortified by the double gift.
Colin already had five different Swiss army knives from previous Christmas and birthdays, and resolves to never tell either of them.
Samantha insists they need to take a group picture, and Colin looks at Hannah, who has lowered her bandana to show her face, then at Robin, who removed his mask and covered his bodysuit with a pink hoodie, and finally at the three others, entirely in their civvies.
"You can't take it outside this building," he says, and Robin is tasked with setting up the camera.
Colin hopes his wince at the flash isn't too visible.
Colin puts the knives and the bottle of scotch in a bag with the intention of bringing them to his house and putting them on the same shelf as his other Swiss army knives, and hides the chocolates in his desk drawer for a very bad day. After a moment of hesitation, he pins the picture to the wall above his desk.
It was nice of them all to remember his birthday.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
I wrote this with that headache.
Murder at Tiffany's
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Written for the first rouns of the Cauldron Blitz Cup, with the following prompt: A resurrecting cape attempts to solve their own murder.
When Tiffany opens her eyes, there is a corpse on her floor.
It's hers.
***
Tiffany doesn't mind dying that much anymore. It happens all the time. She's used to it.
The problem is it's not Lady Lazarus who got killed. It's Tiffany. Someone broke into her apartment and murdered her.
She was supposed to be safe here.
She doesn't remember anything after lunch yesterday, so she was killed at some point in the afternoon. She always loses time before her deaths.
Her jewelry and phone are missing. A look at her corpse shows her wedding ring has been taken.
"A burglary gone wrong?" she asks aloud.
Her corpse looks at the ceiling with empty eyes and doesn't answer. The wounds in her chest look like camellias, like her killer kept stabbing her even after she died.
Tiffany borrows the neighbor's phone and calls Lindsay.
***
Lindsay helps her get rid of her corpse, and clean up. Adam will be upset if he gets home from visiting his parents and finds a murder scene.
Here. Like nothing happened, except for her missing jewelry.
They took her wedding ring.
They came into her home and murdered her.
They came into her home and murdered her.
It's not like when Lady Lazarus dies. It's her home. She was supposed to be safe there.
It feels more personal, somehow.
***
"You texted me yesterday," Lindsay says. "You told me Justin came by, and said he wanted to apologize."
Justin. Her ex.
He never did accept her dumping him.
Her wedding ring was taken from her corpse.
***
Tiffany takes with her a gun scavenged during one of Lady Lazarus's nocturnal outings. Just in case.
She checks that Justin has left for work, and breaks into his apartment. It hasn't changed much since the last time she was there. Same ugly wallpaper, same piles of books, same Eidolon poster on the wall.
She looks for clues.
Nothing in the drawers. Makes sense. Too obvious. The vents are empty as well, and it takes her far too long to screw them back in place.
She pushes the bed aside and checks under the loose floorboards, where he used to hide his porn when they were still dating.
She finds a knife.
And her wedding ring.
***
Justin comes home sooner than Tiffany thought he would.
The way he blanches when he sees her, like she's a ghost coming back to haunt him, tells her more than a confession would.
He murdered her.
"You can't be here," he says.
He came into her home. And he killed her.
The gun feels very warm in her hand.
"You're dead," he says.
He stabbed her in the chest. Multiple times. He stabbed her, again and again, and he took her wedding ring.
He came into her home, where she was supposed to be safe, and he murdered her.
She's in his home, where he thought he was safe, and this time, she's the one holding a weapon.
The Girl Wearing a Demon Mask
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Written for the second round of the Cauldron Blitz Cup for the following ptompt: The Adventures of Imp in Brockton Bay. (When she's not with the Undersiders.)
There is a girl wearing a demon mask in Amber's apartment.
"Who are you and what the fuck are you doing here?" Amber asks.
"Eh," the girl says. "Don't worry about that."
The girl takes Amber's keys off their hook and throw them in a drawer.
***
Amber can't find her keys.
***
The girl with the demon mask is back. She's straining against the sofa, visibly trying to move it.
"What are you doing?" Amber asks, and then "Do you have anywhere to go? I can walk you home if you need to."
The girl lets out a laugh. Amber doesn't like it.
***
Amber swears as she hits her hip on the corner on the table again. This is going to bruise.
It's strange. She's not usually so clumsy.
***
The girl is holding Amber's phone.
"I would really like it if you could stop looking through my things," Amber says, and she snatches her phone back. "And you still didn't tell me who you are. Are you a cape?"
"I was done with it anyway," the girl says, and she ignores the second question.
***
Fuck you says the text Jennifer sent her.
Amber isn't blaming her. Not when she scrolls up their conversation and sees what she said herself.
She doesn't remember sending those messages. She doesn't even remember thinking them.
She's starting to think something might be wrong.
***
The girl is back again.
"Are you a cape?" Amber asks.
The girl has a knife.
***
Something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.
It started with little things. Finding her keys in the drawer when she always hangs them to their hook and walking into furniture. Small annoyances Amber could explain away with being stressed over the recent dead and the state of the city.
But things aren't getting better. They're getting *worse*. Now, it's scavenged food missing from her closets, strange gouges in the doors, text messages she doesn't remember sending.
Now, it's waking up with cuts and scratches on her hands and splinters under her fingernails.
She calls Justin.
"Can I come live with you for a while?" Amber asks. "I don't want to stay alone."
***
The girl in the demon mask is writing on the mirror in Justin's bathroom.
The paint is red, and Amber isn't sure it's paint.
"It was you," Amber says. "I keep forgetting about you, but *you* moved my keys, and my furniture, and sent those texts to Jennifer, and you…"
The knife in the girl's hands. The scratches on the back of hers.
"Oh god," Amber says, and then, "What do you want? Why are you doing this?"
"I'm Imp," the girl says. "I want you to leave Brockton Bay."
***
There is blood on Amber's hands. Two of her fingers are broken, and she's missing a few fingernails.
There is blood in the bathroom sink, and red words in the mirror telling her to leave.
Of Silver and Raspberry Lamb Chops
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Written for the second round of the Cauldron Blitz Cup after I misunderstood which prompt I was supposed to write, with the following prompt: The lady on the train in Interlude:End mentioned she was going to a reunion. This snip tells the tale of that reunion.
Ann's hair have turned white.
Janice isn't sure why a part of her keeps coming back to this detail. It has been over fifty years. Of course Ann's hair have turned white.
It has been fifty years. The last time Janice saw Ann, her hair was still red.
"Those lamb chops are delicious," Janice says to Ann. "I wouldn't have thought to use blackberries for the seasoning, it's very original, but it works well."
"Actually, John made it," Ann says.
"And I'm glad to hear that you like it," John says. "Although I can't take credit for coming up with the recipe."
"I didn't know you cooked," Janice says.
For a brief, interminable moment, the conversation falters, and Janice thinks of why she didn't know that, and wonders if Ann and John do, too.
"I do like unusual recipes," John says mercifully, breaking the silence. "I make a pretty good dandelion banana bread, if I say so myself. What about you, Janice? Do you cook?"
"Well, I have to feed myself," Janice says. "But I can't say I really enjoy it."
The conversation stops again, the silence awkward and heavy with things all three of them know, and Janice desperately scrambles for a subject that would restart it.
"Well, everyone can't like the same things," John says. "What do you like to do, if I may ask?"
"Well," Janice says. "I have a taste for card games, and I like to think I have some skill as well."
"Oh, I remember that!" Ann interjects with a smile. "That's how you met Lawrence! He lost against you in a poker game and swore to play against you every week until he could win!"
Tentatively, Janice smiles back.
***
The rest of the evening goes the same way, with John picking up the conversation with obstinate eagerness every time it dies down.
Neither Ann nor John mentions the elephant in the room, and Janice doesn't dare to. It's one thing to explain past cruelties to a stranger on the bus, but it's far, far harder to bring it up with the people you hurt. To bring back old wounds and bad memories.
When the time comes from Janice to leave, they still haven't talked about it.
When John says goodbye to her on the threshold of his and Ann's home, his hair is very white under the streetlamp. White like Ann's hair, like Janice's hair.
Fifty years.
Fifty years where they could have been friends. Fifty years' worth of good times and merry dinners.
Fifty years lost.
"It was good seeing you again, Janice," John says. "I'd like to see you again soon."
"I'd like that, too," Janice says.
She means it.
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The unsaid rests heavily in the room
It has made its home here
Consuming every second breath of air
Waiting in the cold of the pantry
Lurking under the carpets
It sits in the pale frames of missing pictures
Dances on uncelebrated days
Uses names unspoken
Wears faces unseen
Unsaid but not unremembered
You inspired me to a poem
It has made its home here
Consuming every second breath of air
Waiting in the cold of the pantry
Lurking under the carpets
It sits in the pale frames of missing pictures
Dances on uncelebrated days
Uses names unspoken
Wears faces unseen
Unsaid but not unremembered
You inspired me to a poem
The Ghost in the Graveyard
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Written for the third round of the Cauldron Blitz Cup, with the following prompt: Several characters go ghost hunting.
"This place gives me the creeps," Velocity says, and a part of Shawn can't help but agree. The Boat Graveyard is, indeed, creepy, and the sunset makes of the rotting ships the corpses of colossal beasts. This won't be a fun evening.
The PRT got calls about ghosts in the Boat Graveyard, reports of lights, banging noises and, once or twice, of a translucent silhouette standing on a ship. It's probably nothing, just a few drunks or a prank or teenagers scaring themselves, but there is still the off-chance that the transparent figure is one of Crusader's ghosts. Better safe than sorry.
"It was the SS Pioneer Myth, right?" Shawn asks. "Because I found it."
The ship is still afloat, trails of rust bleeding down its hull, and is close enough to the shore to get aboard by climbing the ladder.
Shawn uses his boots to fly to the desk. Velocity is already standing there, surrounded by open containers like a statue amongst yawning graves.
"It's kind of sad," he says. "This ship used to sail, you know? It used to travel the world, to carry people and things across the ocean, and now it's just… Dead. Stuck. Rotting in place. The whole place is dead."
He sounds almost melancholic. Shawn, unsure of what to say, elects to stay silent, and they start looking inside the containers for anything suspicious.
"What about you, Dauntless?" Velocity asks. "I mean, what do you think of all that?"
That's a complicated question, and they continue their search for a while as Shawn thinks about it.
"I don't know," he finally says. "I mean, it sucks what happened, and that a part of the city died, and I don't like it, but… I guess I just don't really care about travelling, and seeing new places? It's my city, you know, even if it's kind of shit and scary sometimes. All the people I care about are here."
Addison. Jennifer. Everyone he knows.
Velocity opens his mouth, but is interrupted by the sound of something hitting metal. Shawn readies the Arclance, and then there is a yelp, and a man stumbles from between containers, followed by Velocity. He looks homeless.
"I'm sorry," the man says, sounding terrified, "I'm sorry, I will leave, I thought no one ever came here, I didn't think I'd bother anyone, I'm sorry, I…"
"Hey," Shawn says awkwardly, "It's okay, we're not here to make you leave. We're just… We just have a few questions for you, okay?"
He's pretty sure they found their ghost.
***
The man's name is Mortimer Thane, and he has been living on the ship for the last two months. The noises come from him moving containers, and he uses a flashlight at night. The transparent figure is a clear raincoat being moved by the wind.
Shawn and Velocity leave.
Mortimer keeps living on the dead ship.