#+ going to the cold storage warehouse

[monitor-kernel-access]

PLEASE STOP MAKING ME GO TO THE COLD STORAGE WAREHOUSE WHEN I DONT KNOW IF IRIS IS SAFE OR NOT I AM SO FUCKING SCARED ALL THE TIME

[thepixelelf]

superhero cheol x tech whiz reader warnings: coarse language, death threats, manipulation, injury, gunfire. wc: 1.7k

read part 1 & part 2 first

[anonymous nights 3] Seungcheol didn’t burn down the entire building. Minghao wouldn’t let him.

In fact, despite the urgent need find you within the maze that was the old seafood packaging factory and warehouse, now known as the sketchiest place in northern uptown, Minghao’s focus was completely on damage control. Seungcheol could feel Minghao constantly at the back of his mind, keeping him in check when all he wanted to do was burn the stupid place to the ground — after finding you of course. While Seungcheol barged through each and every door in his search, Minghao made sure he didn’t kill anyone in his way, and Seokmin lagged behind, healing said people with his rejuvenation and slapping them in zipties to deal with later. 

No one else was with them. Seungcheol had rushed out too quickly for anyone to call for backup, and only Minghao had the foresight to grab three masks before dashing from headquarters. That was why they were running so haphazardly through the warehouse — they had no one to guide them. None of them even stopped running to put on their masks, each fitting perfectly to their faces thanks to your latest invention in the supersuit department. 

It was when Seungcheol busted through a door roughly labeled “Storage Unit 3″, flames and all, that he finally froze.

“No sudden movements, hothead.”

You were in the middle of the empty unit, tied to a chair with your head hung limp. A man, the one who spoke, stood next to you, the tip of his gun a mere inch from your temple.

Seungcheol felt blindingly hot rage flow through his blood, but although every nerve in his body screamed at him to rush forward, he stayed frozen. His fingers couldn’t even twitch.

No sudden movements, Minghao reminded him in his head. Normally, Seungcheol would try anything to block Minghao out of his mind, but he had to get his priorities straight. He tried to clench his teeth, but couldn’t.

They’re alive. Let’s try to keep it that way.

I get it, I get it! Seungcheol barked back in his thoughts, hoping Minghao could hear him. He felt the hold on his control loosen.

Seokmin’s still back there, we need to—

“What, nothing to say, dear heroes?” the man interrupted without knowing, his voice reverberating off the cold stone walls. “I must say, when I found out that idiot lackey of mine let this little bitch get a phone call, I expected the cops.” He waved his free hand as he spoke, gesturing towards Seungcheol. “But who would’ve guessed this twerp was all cozy with the hero brigade?”

The man’s laugh rang hollow, and it sent a shiver down Seungcheol’s spine. He never shivered.

Can you get in his head?

He’s a goddamn psychopath, Minghao complained.

But can you?

It’ll take a minute. Keep him talking.

“Ignoring me now?!” the man yelled. His finger twitched on the trigger, the sight causing Seungcheol to dig his nails into his palms. “Maybe I’ll just shoot them right now, just for pissing me off.”

“Touch one fucking hair on their head and I'll turn you to ash!” Seungcheol bellowed, his restraint finally lost. Minghao’s hold on him had completely let go once he started focusing on getting into the motherfucker’s head.

“Oh, he has a voice,” he teased. “Solar Flare, isn’t it? Everyone’s favourite fiery hero. Well I have news for you, wonderboy—” his jaw tensed “—I’m already dead.”

Flame erupted from Seungcheol’s hands, but he stayed still. The man laughed again, dry and cynical.

“So why don’t you just let it happen, huh? Neither of us—” he waved the gun at your head “—are getting out of here alive. You could let me end it quickly and painlessly, or…” Seungcheol bit his lip as he watched the man’s disgusting smirk grow wider. The man spun your chair so that Seungcheol could only see your side, and he stuck the barrel of his gun in the dip of your eye socket. “…I could rain so much hell, you’d have to bury a faceless body. You decide.”

“Just let them go.”

“I could,” he said casually, “but a deal like that needs a trade, don’t you think?”

“What kind of trade?”

He laughed. “For their life, I want mine in return. All you have to do,” he explained through a smirk, “is let me walk away.”

“Fine.” It didn’t matter what Seungcheol agreed or didn’t agree to as long as Minghao could stop him. (Though he was taking his damn time.)

“And.” The man paused, cocking his head to the side with an air of confidence. “I want a plane.”

“I’m not fucking SWAT. I don’t have that kind of power.”

“Well then we don’t have a deal, do we?”

You used to tell him about the books you would read as a kid, and the strange things that would happen in them. One thing you would always complain about was the “slowing down time thing” that you claimed people used too much in both books and movies. “That doesn’t happen in real life,” you’d said. “Unless we find a time-controlling superhero. You know what? That’s a great idea actually, remind me to write that down.”

But Seungcheol felt it now, the way time slowed as he watched the man’s finger tighten over the trigger, and he felt as if the fire burning in his hands no longer had the power he's feared his entire life. His voice couldn’t come out in time. The step forward he tried wasn’t fast enough.

He lost.

A thundering gunshot echoed throughout the room, and Seungcheol barely registered that he had closed his eyes. He battled with himself over whether to look, to finish that bastard off right then, but a strangled scream forced his eyes open to watch as the man collapsed to the ground, the gun clattering to the floor as his eyes bulged. He thrashed and squirmed on the ground before falling still, his eyes turning blank.

“Shit,” Minghao breathed out behind Seungcheol. He fell to his knees, clutching at his own hair with eyes screwed shut — evidence of overworking his mental powers. “Fuck.”

Seungcheol took a shaky step towards you, his feet slow as everything began to settle. The room was silent save for Minghao’s uneven breaths and the distant sound of Seokmin’s footsteps. He wanted to ask Minghao if you were alive, to check with his power because he was too scared to get close without knowing, but he could tell Minghao was in no condition to get up, much less get a read.

So he stumbled your way, uncertainty driving him.

Minghao had to have saved you. That was what they did. Save people.

You had to be okay.

You had to.

The adrenaline seeped from him, leaking out so that he could finally hear the pounding of his own heart. He fell to his knees at your feet, first looking at the floor, then slowly raising his head. Cupping your face in his hands and lifting it up, Seungcheol let out a breath of relief when he saw nothing on your slack face other than a few scrapes.

He’d never cried in front of you before, but today, now, he allowed himself to let go, dropping his face into your lap. You were still unconscious anyways.

After a while, he dimly registered voices whispering behind him, and when he lifted his head again, Seokmin had his hand on the back of your neck, his eyes closed as he focused on healing you. It wasn’t as simple as that, but Seungcheol felt solace knowing that you’d live to see tomorrow.

Once Seokmin finished, you began to stir, and Minghao clapped Seungcheol on the shoulder. “We’ll be outside,” he said. “Seokmin, grab the guy on the ground. He’s not dead yet, but I don’t want him waking up before backup gets here.”

Seungcheol watched as they left and dragged the lump of a man with them, then focused on you as your eyes scrunched tight. You let out a pained groan.

“Hey,” he said softly, untying your restraints. With you freed, he gently guided you to the floor with him so that you sat on your knees, your top half slack against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, one landing on your back where his thumb rubbed in circles. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s me.”

You tensed in his hold for a second but relaxed after another few, soothed by his quiet assurances. A small, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of you, and Seungcheol shut his mouth.

“A fucking cult,” you mumbled into his shirt. The words were so quiet that Seungcheol barely heard them.

“What?”

You laughed again, and while ten minutes ago, Seungcheol had been begging any god he could think of to hear your laugh again, he didn’t want this. You sounded so… sad. Defeated.

“A cult, Solar Flare,” you said louder this time, though he could tell your throat was dry. His heart panged at the use of his alias, recalling how real his actual name had sounded during that phone call. He wondered if you would ever call him that again. You clutched your fingers in the fabric of his shirt, which was starting to get soaked by the tears he hadn’t noticed before. “That son of a bitch was sacrificing kids to some fucking moon god and I — fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to get a closer look. I didn’t think… I didn’t…”

You took a deep, ragged inhale, the breath shaking your entire body in Seungcheol’s arms, which only made his grip tighten. Another bout of laughter escaped your lips, but he knew it was to cover up your crying. Though Seungcheol was the superhero, you were always the one wearing a mask — one to cover up how you actually felt.

“Fuck, Solar, I was so fucking scared.”

He gave you a few pats on the back. Then, quietly, “Well maybe don’t get any ‘closer looks’ from now on.”

Nothing sounded better than your real laugh.

“You’re probably right,” you admitted.

“Of course I’m right. You may be the brains of the operation, but you can be a real dumbass sometimes.”

As you giggled into his shoulder, Seungcheol closed his eyes as the world aligned itself once more. You were alive, You were laughing.

“That was really smart of you,” he said after a short while. He didn’t know how long you needed to recover, but he also didn’t want to stay in the storage unit for long. It already had bad memories. “You know, the tracking chip thing.”

“Oh, that?” You raised your head, meeting his eyes with a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll have to disable it and install a new one for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Well—”

He gave you a look -- the one you tended to give him.

“Fine. There won’t be a next time. I’m still installing a new one though.” Slowly, you stood, shaky on your legs with Seungcheol to steady yourself on. You kept your hands on his shoulders. “And Seungcheol?”

He paused, hands on your upper arms in his attempt to help you stand.

“Sorry about what I must've said. You know, on the phone. I know I probably made you uncomfortable, but I’ve kinda had that scenario written down for six years, so I didn’t really have a choice. I didn’t mean to weird you out with all the gushy first date stuff… Sorry, I’m making it awkward again.”

Dropping your head, you sighed and moved to go, but Seungcheol held you still, making you look up at him with question.

“So the things you said,” he began to ask, his words slow with doubt as he licked his lips. “You didn’t mean any of it?”

“No?” Your brows furrowed. “What? Did I say something weird?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really… The guy knocked me out, and before that I only remember one of his followers letting me have a phone call. But you’re here, so I must’ve told my cover story. What did I say?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened. “Um, you said… uh.”

“Uh…?” You gestured for him to go on.

“Forget it!” Seungcheol gulped down whatever he wanted to say and dropped his hands from your arms, swiftly turning and walking to the exit.

“What?!” you exclaimed, following after him and catching up at his side. You turned your head as you walked, but Seungcheol kept his eyes forward. “What do you mean forget it? I’m trying to remember what I said to you. C’mon!”

“No. It was stupid.”

“Well now I really wanna know,” you whined. “What did I say? Did I confess to stealing your chips because if I did I was lying. That definitely wasn’t me. Or was it that I have two stray cats in my apartment that I need you to take care of because I promise you, now that I’m alive, I can take care of them by myself. Wait, I didn’t tell you where I live, did I? Because that’s against company policy and I really don’t want boss finding out that—”

“You said you love me!”

At his outburst, the both of you froze in the middle of the hall. Seungcheol’s hand rose to cover his mouth, but the damage was already done, he’d already said everything. A terrible few seconds passed where nothing happened, and Seungcheol wished he could just steal Minghao's powers and snap his fingers to make you forget any of this ever happened.

Your face twisted with a playful smile, eyes lit with your classic mischief. You began to laugh, your own hand coming up to your face.

Fuck. Obviously that was part of the script. No one could love him. All he did was burn things. All he could do was destroy.

You couldn’t love him, not in a million years.

“Seungcheol.”

His name again. Hearing it in your voice (for, what, the fourth time?) brought pause to his melancholy thoughts. You stepped closer, leaning in to take his hands in your own and hold them between you.

“Of course I love you. I love you in a way I’ve never loved anyone before. And I choose to feel that way. You know that, right?”

“I…”

“And you care about me too, Seungcheol. I know that. We might not be like that high school couple I talked about on the phone, but we’re a team. We have each other’s backs. I trust you with almost everything I have, and you? You came all the way to this shithole just to save your tech assistant.” You squeezed his hands, not minding the heat that seemed to rush through them, nor the red on Seungcheol’s cheeks. “We’re partners in crime. Or I guess, partners in fighting crime, and we’re here for each other. If that’s not some type of love, I don’t know what is.”

Seungcheol trembled, unsure of what to ask out of the hundreds of questions he had on the tip of his tongue.

“C’mere,” you said, pulling him into a hug.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding tight because if he let go again, he wouldn’t know what to say. In his head, he whispered, I love you, over and over again.

I love you I love you I love you.

One day, he thought as you brought him outside by the hand, your features outlined — illuminated — with the red and blue lights of the police car sirens. One day, he’ll tell you out loud.

part 1 | part 2

[teal-fiend]

A tiny who just wants to explore comes across a giant in a state.

content: g/t vore, multiple prey, implied fatal, unwilling prey, digestion, observer pov

–

You slip quietly into the room, your tiny footsteps barely making a sound on the cold, cemented floor. An abandoned warehouse. Or perhaps, to the giants, it was just a storage room. 

Either way, you liked to wander and sneak around places where you probably shouldn’t go. It was part of your borrower instincts, you’d say. Urban exploration is a fairly normal hobby anyway, for both giants and tinies. The point is, you weren’t looking for trouble. 

At first, everything looks normal for a condemned building—echo-y, dim, neglected, just the kind of place you’d been looking for.

But you have the sense that something isn’t right. A gut feeling—you can’t place it. You turn a corner and freeze.

A giant.

Your breath catches in your throat. The figure sprawled across the floor is immense, larger than any living being you’ve ever seen. From your minuscule perspective, the sheer scale of them is disorienting—no animal should be this large—it was like seeing a dinosaur; it should be extinct. It shouldn’t exist. But what really grabs your attention is their stomach.

It’s colossal.

You stare in shock at the massive, swollen curve of their belly, rising up like a hill in the center of the room. You’ve seen giants from afar, but never like this. Not up close, and not... like this.

The stomach is enormous—so much bigger than you, bigger than your car, even bigger than a house. It’s distended, rounded out in a tight, unnatural way that makes you start to realise something is wrong here. Are they sick?

The giant is passed out, their face relaxed in sleep, but their body tells a different story. Their stomach is so grotesquely distended, so unnaturally large, it looks painful.

And the sounds—oh god, the sounds. Despite any survival instinct you have, you inch closer, carefully stepping around their outstretched arm, your eyes fixated on their swollen midsection.

Deep, heavy gurgles reverberate from their gut, like the low rumbling of an earthquake, vibrating through the concrete beneath your feet. It’s so loud, so visceral, like standing next to an industrial machine. The noises make your skin crawl. Listen, as if in a horrible trance, to the groaning and churning of their stomach, struggling with whatever is inside.

And then, faintly, you catch something else.

Voices.

Your blood runs cold. Faint, muffled cries, barely audible beneath the thick layers of skin and muscle, but unmistakable. You edge closer, your eyes locked on the giant’s stomach, unable to look away. The voices are weak, but they’re there. It sets in with a sickening dread. There are people in there.

You take a step back, heart pounding in your chest as you realise what you’re hearing. The giant had eaten them—swallowed them whole, by the sound of it. You glance around the room; it’s still a nondescript warehouse interior. But you theorise the giant chose somewhere unassuming to hide while they...

Your stomach twists as you look back at the giant, their massive belly stretching up above you like a grotesque monument. You can’t help but imagine what it must be like inside, trapped in the tight, churning darkness of that giant’s gut, squeezed into the hot, suffocating space, with no way out. 

You can’t believe what you’re seeing—what kind of person would do this?

The giant shifts slightly in their sleep, letting out a long, low groan. You flinch, stepping back, but they don’t wake. Their face is slightly vexed; it seems like a fitful sleep; this might have been too much, even for them. 

But then, as you watch, their lips part, and a deep, thundering belch rolls out of their mouth. Their expression relaxes; it becomes peaceful even. They continue to lie there, completely unaware of the horror inside them. 

The noise is deafening, shaking the air around you. You cover your ears, the sound reverberating in your chest like a subwoofer, a reminder of just how enormous this body is compared to yours. The belch is loud and lazy, almost careless, like the giant’s body is simply responding to the meal. Their stomach seems to stir, and the deep gurgles return, louder this time, more ominous.

You take a shaky breath, your eyes locked on that unnaturally large belly. The skin is stretched so tight it shines under the dim natural light, and you can see the faintest bit of movement beneath the surface—small bumps, appearing here and there.

Your mind reels, trying to comprehend the scale of it all. The stomach is so large, so engorged, and those voices... There must be at least a dozen, maybe more, trapped inside. You can hear them still, faint and muffled, like they’re buried deep under layers of sound. How many people had the giant swallowed? And how did they catch them? 

You inch closer, trembling with fear and disbelief. From down here, the giant is like a living landscape, their body so vast it’s hard to take it all in. Their belly rises far above your head, towering over you like some grotesque monument. You reach out, not thinking, and place a hand against the tightly stretched skin. 

It’s hot, like an overheated computer, and you can even feel a constant whirring. You can feel deeper and stronger vibrations, which coincide with the audible gurgling.

The sheer size of it makes you feel so small, so utterly insignificant. And inside that massive gut are people—people like you. Only what, a metre or so from where your hand is placed. 

The giant lets out another soft groan in their sleep, and you jump, quickly stepping back again. Their body is so loud—every churn from the overstuffed organ is amplified to an almost unbearable degree. 

Your thoughts race, panic rising in your chest. You have to get out of here. This giant is dangerous—a predator unlike anything you’ve ever imagined. The predator is asleep now, but what happens when they wake up? 

You get the feeling that they wouldn’t still feel hungry...

But the fact that you’ve seen this means that you are a liability. You may be the only surviving witness to a terrifying crime. 

You glance back at the direction from which you came. Your heart thuds in your chest. You can still hear the voices—desperate sounds of those trapped inside the giant’s stomach. But there’s nothing you can do for them. You’re too small, too helpless. You can do more for them by escaping and letting the world know what happened. 

The giant stirs again, grumbling in their sleep, their bloated belly gurgling loudly, and you are once again frozen in place. You pray they don’t awaken. 

Another belch escapes their lips, still so resonant. You have to get out of here.

You take one last look at the monstrous sight in front of you—the giant, passed out on the floor, their stomach swollen beyond belief—and then you turn and run.

[seat-safety-switch]

So-called motorcylists love to shove their beloved bikes away whenever there's a little bit of snow on the road. That's because motorcyclists are famously concerned with their public perception. They don't want to drive around town with wood screws run through their tires, shrieking profanities at stopped traffic before ripping a perfect 12 'o' clocker and driving across the iced-over multi-use-pathway, comfortable in their knowledge that the police will not and can not follow. Or it's because they don't have heated grips, and their handsies get cold.

Heated steering wheels are the single greatest innovation in cars in the last two hundred years. Unfortunately for me, they hadn't been installed into cars of the age I own. In the late 1970s, the newest innovation in steering wheel comfort was "maybe make them a little smaller, for the ladies." Seems like I was cursed to a lifetime of wondering if my thermostat was seized, freezing to death even through many layers of mittens and work gloves while waiting for the tow truck to arrive and clean up the commuters in front of me.

Of course, Plymouth also didn't equip this car with a lot of other modern features. For instance, liquid-cooled active speed laser and radar jamming was not available. Active pursuit drones pre-programmed with a seek-and-destroy order for all speed cameras were not yet on the market, unless you worked for the CIA. And also the good people of China had not figured out how to make $35 45-millimetre ball-bearing turbochargers capable of adding nearly four hundred horsepower to any engine strong enough to keep its guts on the inside when presented with one medium-sized jet engine's worth of boost. I had to add all those things myself.

Easy, right? Run some wires to a heating element on the steering wheel. There's just one complication: steering wheels turn. If I keep spinning the car left and right, eventually the wire will get tangled up and rip itself out, causing an electrical fire. Admittedly, that will also keep my hands warm, but the walk home after is inconvenient.

The original "engineers" who took a whisky-soaked gander at this car before slapping their secretaries on the ass had a solution, though. In every steering wheel, the horn button has the same problem. Unfortunately for me, the horn hasn't worked in this car since 1983, which complicated my attempts to reuse the wiring.

Ultimately, I came up with what a rocket scientist would call "a compromise." A pair of bolt cutters and a map to the local truck-supply warehouse's storage yard soon provided me with a nifty diesel-fired interior heater, a roaring flame that consumes all and produces enough heat to make toast from three feet away. Ratchet-strapped to the place where the passenger seat used to be, it will keep my fingers warm, as well as my feet and every other part of my body. Sure, it's inconvenient having to continually refill it with stolen farm diesel, and I could have run the exhaust pipe out of the cabin a better way than through the rust hole in the floor. Once you get that heated seat feeling, though, you simply can't go back. If you'll excuse me, I need to get going: if I don't get to work in the next five minutes, my boots will melt again.

[a-whisper-in-the-forest]

A deal

Part 1 (Disgraced apple pie) Part 2 (A work of art)

TW: Violence

Hero adjusts the earpiece in their ear. The annoying thing has a tendency to fall out during fights.

“Hero, can you hear me?”

Other Hero's voice sounds through the earpiece. “Yes, I can hear you.” Hero says with a nervous edge in their voice. These fights stress them out every time. Whoever said that it gets easier, has never been in a fight.

The Agency send Hero and their team to investigate an empty warehouse, on the edge of the city. There have been a few sightings of villains and henchmen walking in and out of the building. According to their surveillance team, there should be no one inside now. The perfect opportunity to know what those criminals are doing.

“Alright, there should be a hallway on your left side. Go through there. There should be a big storage room at the end.”

They hear Other Hero crackling through the earpiece. “Got it,” Hero answers, sneaking through the hallway. Sure enough, they can see an open door leading towards a big storage room. When they move towards the door, they hear a voice from inside.

“I'm telling you, Supervillain is going to reward us for this one. They're gonna see how much of an asset I am.” Other Villain's voice echoes through the room. Hero's hair on the back of their neck stands up straight. They don't like Other Villain. No one does. They might not be the most powerful one, but they have no regard for personal safety and will not stop at anything. That is what makes them dangerous.

“I'm gonna get my own lair or something. Something big is going to happen, mark my words,” Other Villain continues. Hero tries to inch closer but stops the moment they hear the other's voice. “For the third time today, shut up.” The cold voice is immediately recognised by Hero. Villain? What are they doing here? Supervillain only sends Villain if it's something serious.

“And for the third time, no. I do what I want. You're not-” Other Villain didn't get to finish that sentence. “Ouch, you motherf- ouch. Why would you punch me like that?” Other Villains hisses in pain. “I told you to shut up, didn't I?”

As Hero scoots closer, they can see behind the corner. Other Villain is walking around while Villain sits on some sort of crate. Both of them are suited up and ready for a fight. If this ends up in a fight, Hero is going to need a whole lot of backup.

All of a sudden, they can hear some muffled cries. As their eyes dart around the room to find the source, they can see a hunched over person bound to a chair. They may be sitting in a dark corner but Hero can easily distinguish the Sidekick's uniform. They quickly go a bit back in the hallway so there's a slimmer chance of being heard. “Other Hero?”

"Yes? Everything alright?”

Other Hero responds through the earpiece. “I think i just found the missing Sidekick from the Other team.”

"Oh, that's great. Are they okay?"

“I don't know, they´re being guarded by Villain and Other Villain.”

“I am calling back up. I will be back in a minute.”

Hero looks around the corner again only to see Other Villain gone. “Did your mother never tell you that it is rude to eavesdrop?” Hero's heart sank as they heard the voice behind them. They slowly turned around. “Hi~,” they say, looking like a deer in headlights. 

“If I were you, I'd run.” 

Hero didn't waste another second and bolted to the nearest exit. A bright flame flies next to them, hitting a nearby wall. Their earpiece flies out by the sudden movements. They don't dare to look back and keep running. They try to see the building’s lay-out in their mind.There is no way they can beat Other Villain on their own. If they go left on the next corner, there should be an exit close by. 

“If you want them to stay alive, I'd stop,” Villain says behind them. They stop dead in their tracks. They turn around to see the Sidekick held up in the air by shadows. “What do you want?” Hero asks, growing desperate seeing the sidekick panic in their shadow bonds. “A little favor.” Other Villain says, having caught up with them. “Like what?” What could they possibly ask for? “All the heroes' personal files would do the trick.” Other Villain smiles, standing with confidence next to the struggling Sidekick. “I can't do that…”

“Well, guess Villain here can have some more fun with Sidekick then.” With perfect timing the Sidekick starts to scream. “Stop, not again! Please!”

They look at Villain. How is this the same person that they talked to for hours in that diner? They looked at Villain's face to expect the same smug grin as Other Villain, or at least a glint of malicious pleasure in their eyes. They didn't find any. They see a sadness they can't quite explain. If they are so against doing this, then why are they doing it anyway?

“So?” Other Villain asks. “Fine, I'll do it. Give them over now,” Hero answers quickly. They were so gonna get in trouble for this. That's a problem for later. They first need to get Sidekick out of here and get them medical treatment. “I don't think so. You can have them back when we have the files. Sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?” Villain gives Other Villain an annoyed look. They stopped hurting Sidekick as soon as the Hero said ‘fine’. 

“Alright then,” Hero says reluctantly. “Where do I drop off?”

“You know where,” Villain answers the question. “In two days.”

“Done.” And with that Hero turned around to go look for their team. Villain has a lot of explaining to do next time.

~

What Hero doesn't see, is a figure appearing out of the shadows, well hidden by Villain's powers. “Good job, you two. Villain, how about you bring our little friend home? Other Villain and I still have some grocery shopping to do. I am giving you your reward by not pushing you into a crowd, which I know you hate.” The figure steps forward and caresses Villain's cheek. “What do we say then?”

“Thank you, Supervillain.”

Next part

Hi! Finally part 3 of this series! I did struggle with this part so I hope it lives up to your expectations. I hope that the next parts come a bit easier :).

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath au: Red Letter Day

Barney gets a call that Gordon Freeman had been found after ten years of being missing in action.

Word count: 4382

Notes: Another fic for my au "Aftermath" because I think its neat. I'm not sure what else to put here, enjoy the fic

Barney was beginning to remember how much he hated Winter as he stared through the warehouse window in front of him. Despite it being the beginning of March, spring was yet to come, meaning the snow was still falling with the temperature following suit. Barney had always hated the season, and as much as he tried, he could never come up with a proper reason. Maybe it was the fact it was cold, wet, and dreary, making any trip outside miserable, or perhaps it was the fact he was mainly cooped up inside all day, leaving him to get cabin fever. Or maybe it was a mixture of those two at the same time, along with the loneliness that came from them. No matter the reason, Barney kept quiet about it, realizing he had no ability to change the weather. All he could do was drink his hot coffee and put on a few more layers than usual. 

Barney took a sip from his mug as he looked away from the window, instead focusing his attention back into the room he was in. It was a storage room, full of random junk and scientific doodads Barney had no knowledge of. Boxes and crates were stacked up in piles taller than he was, stacked in such a way that it made Barney nervous even being near them in the case of them toppling over. Due to the lack of a radiator in that room, it was even chillier than the rest of the refurbished warehouse, making Barney glad he was wearing the warmest sweatpants he could find in his closet, along with a worn out grey hoodie, with the logo on the front being so faded that it was hard to make out as Black Mesa’s logo.

As he looked around, he was startled by the sound of a box slamming against the concrete floor, along with a short exclamation. “Oh, blast it!” “You alright, Doc?” Barney asked the other man in the room, watching as he bent over to pick up the fallen crate.

“I’m fine, just…hoping whatever was in here isn’t fragile…” 

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, or “Doc” as Barney referred to him as, was wearing a white lab coat over a robin-egg-blue dress-shirt and black tie, trading warmth for safety at his place of work. His glasses were slipping off his face as he moved boxes and rummaged through everything in the storage room, making it even more of a mess than it was before. 

“Where on earth could she have gone?” Kleiner asked, not necessarily expecting an answer. “There aren’t any vents she could have crawled in, are there?”

“I hope not,” Barney stated. “Last thing I want is that thing to fall on someone.” As Kleiner looked under a table, Barney spoke up again. “You think it ran off or something?”

“Oh no, I don’t believe so,” Kleiner stood up straight, “I’m sure she wouldn’t. After all, she needs to get fed eventually, so I imagine she’ll come out for that.” “If the thing didn’t eat someone's cat or something.”

“Hush!” Kleiner held a finger up to his mouth, causing both he and Barney to become silent as he listened closely. Barney attempted to hear what Kleiner was listening for, but to no avail, hearing nothing but silence. “Fie! I could’ve sworn I heard her moving around…”

Barney let out an exhausted sigh, “Doc, please, there’s plenty of those pests out there–”

“But there’s only ONE Lamar!”

“...Right.”

“Now, are you going to help me look?” Kleiner adjusted his crooked glasses, “Or are you going to simply stand there, doing nothing?”

“Uh…” Barney glanced away, thinking for a moment. “...No thanks.”

“Oh, you act like she’s some kind of wild animal.”

“It kinda is.”

“She’s been de-beaked and trained, and you know this!” Kleiner stated as he walked towards a filing cabinet near the corner of the room.

“‘Trained;’ I don’t think that thing is really…trained. My dog is trained, and I know you can train cats, but I don’t think you can train a literal parasite–”

“Oh! I think I’ve got something!” Kleiner said excitedly, “Help me move this cabinet, would you please?”

Barney reluctantly approached the metal cabinet as Kleiner positioned himself to the side of it, ready to move it as soon as Barney was. As soon as Barney placed his free hand against the side of it, he pushed, with Kleiner on the other side pulling it towards him.

Barney let out a loud yelp when something leaped at him from behind the cabinet, causing him to fall on his back and drop his mug on the floor. It was Lamar, the “Pet” headcrab that Kleiner had lost, and it was even uglier up close. As it laid on Barney’s chest, its six small, beady eyes stared back at him as he remained absolutely still, afraid of it trying to attack him. Its teeth on its stomach prodded at his stomach, along with its chipped, large front claws, which had colorful duct-tape covering the tips of them to prevent them from being too sharp. After a few moments of tense silence, Kleiner came to the rescue, picking up Lamar from where it rested on Barney’s torso, allowing him to take a breath.

“LAMAR!” Kleiner exclaimed, looking at his pet with relief in his eyes, “Oh, delightful! I’m so happy to see you weren’t left out in the cold somewhere…”

“Mm-hm…” Barney lifted himself off the ground, looking at his feet to see his knocked over coffee cup, with its contents spilled over. “Ugh…” 

Barney picked up his cup from the floor as Kleiner let Lamar go, watching as it waddled across the floor before jumping up onto one of the tables. Barney stared at it with contempt, the opposite reaction to Lamar’s rediscovery compared to Kleiner’s joy. 

“Do you even have a license for that thing?” Barney questioned as Lamar sat down on top of some loose documents. “If you don’t and animal control finds it, they’ll kill it–”

“I’m…in the process of getting one,” Kleiner stated, voice stumbling slightly. “And I hope no one finds her, cause if they do…I’m afraid of what you said coming true. I’m sure it will be fine regardless, at least she knows to stay inside.”

“...Sure.”

“Is everyone safe?”

Barney and Kleiner turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of the warehouse, seeing a lone, albino Vortigaunt staring back at them with her four maroon eyes. She was wearing a similar lab coat to Kleiner’s, with a borrowed pair of black dress pants, along with a fitted light brown sweater, with a hole in the middle of her chest for her third pseudo arm. She stared at Kleiner and Barney for a little while before Barney answered her question. 

“Yeah, we’re fine…” Barney sighed, glancing towards Lamar, “We just found Kleiner’s…pet.”

“Everything’s under control, Violet, you can get back to work!” Kleiner added.

“I see.” Violet’s gravelly voice seemed quieter than usual, making Barney’s brows furrow a bit.

“You alright?” He asked.

Violet seemed puzzled. “Hm?”

“Are you doing alright? I have noticed you’ve been a bit…closed off for the past few hours.” Kleiner inquired.

“We have been…distracted…” Violet responded. “I imagine it will be cleared up soon.”

“We?” Barney asked.

Violet didn’t answer. “I must get back to helping the others…the teleporter is nearly ready for its first test...”

“Oh! Wonderful. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Kleiner stated as Violet left the room. Barney remained puzzled, looking back at Kleiner with a feeling of unease in his chest.

“She said ‘we’.” Barney stated.

“I’m aware,” Kleiner responded. “You see, the Vortigaunts are able to tap into something they refer to as the ‘Vortessence’, and are thus all conne–”

“I know, Doc, I just…” Barney paused for a second. “If she’s talking about all the Vortigaunts, then wouldn’t that be a bit worrying?”

“...Maybe, but I'm not sure.” Kleiner stated. “Though, one of the members of the survey team we sent earlier today was a Vortigaunt, and that team hasn’t returned yet so…maybe there is a connection there.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, I believe i’ll go and speak with her, just to make sure everything’s alri–”

Barney’s phone ringing from his pocket interrupted their thoughts, and when Barney pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, he saw the number was from one of his coworkers at the hospital. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“You’re fine, you go ahead and I’ll go check in with the others.”

Barney nodded, watching Kleiner leave the room before he answered the call and put his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Barney listened closely to the person on the other end of the phone, barely processing what they were saying. 

“What’s going on? 

Not going to believe what? 

So what, why are you telling me this?”

Barney listened closely, all before he felt his heart skip a beat. The sinking feeling in his chest was enough to render him silent, all before he let out a meek “I’ll call you later.”

Barney rushed out of the room, running past Kleiner in the process, nearly pushing him over as he approached the exit. “Barney? What’s going on, are you alright–” “They found him.” Barney’s voice shook as he spoke, with him barely being able to make out the words from how tight his throat was.

“Found who?”

Barney was already out of the building by the time Kleiner asked the question, leaving it unanswered.

Barney saw his own breath clouding in front of his face as he sprinted across the parking lot of the warehouse, nearly slipping on ice multiple times but not giving any time to care. When he reached his car, he swung the door open and crawled inside, starting the engine and speeding off without a single word. His thoughts ran through his head faster than his car was capable of going, slurring together without a single cohesive thought coming through. He didn’t care if he was a few miles above the speed limit; he needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He needed to see if what his coworker said was right.

If it was truly Gordon Freeman that was brought into the ER, he needed to be there.

When Barney made it to the hospital lot, he rushed through the front doors, looking around before approaching the front desk, out of breath from both the physical and mental strain that was put on him. Through harsh breaths, he asked, “Is Gordon Freeman here?”, with pleading eyes focused on the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, hello Mr. Calhoun, I can look through the system for a ‘Gordon Freeman’, if you’ll sit tight for a moment.” She looked towards the computer in front of her, typing in something and looking through files as Barney waited, his impatience building up inside of him.

“Fuck this.” He pushed himself away from the desk, storming down one of the hallways despite the woman at the front desk telling him he wasn’t allowed to as he was off duty. Barney rushed past hospital workers, asking them if they knew where Gordon was, only to be met with worried and frightened looks along with no answers. Barney’s frustration only grew as he ran through the hospital halls, with the familiar building beginning to feel like a maze meant to confuse him. As he ran further into the hospital wing, he slammed against one of the doctors in the hall, causing him to topple to the ground as Barney tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry, I just have to–”

“Barney? What the hell are you doing back here?” The man questioned as Barney sped past him.

“I’m looking for Gordon Freeman,” Barney answered, turning around. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in the ER right now,” The man snapped back as he slowly stood up. “You can’t see him until he’s out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Is he safe? Is he alright?” Barney questioned, walking closer to the doctor. 

“Yes, he’ll be fine, just…” The doctor let out a tired sigh. “Get out of here, you’re off duty and risking your job with a stunt like this.”

“I need to see Gordon, alright?” Barney explained. “He’s been gone for a fucking DECADE, and he’s been found again, I can’t just leave him–”

“Calhoun.” The man raised his voice as he glared at Barney with a look of both contempt and pity. “...Listen, just wait until he’s out and I’ll see what I can do, do you understand?”

Barney remained silent for a moment, letting out a sharp breath before nodding. “Alright,” He stated, defeated. “But he better be getting the best treatment in there.”

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can, they understand his reputation–”

“I don’t care about his reputation, if i’m right, that’s my goddamn friend in there.” Barney spat. “...Let me know when he’s out. I need to at least…make sure it’s…the right guy.”

“I’m sure someone will let you know.” The doctor stated. “...Now please go back to the waiting room before I call security.”

Barney did as he was told, reluctantly walking across the hospital premises and back into the waiting room, where he will stay for another few hours. He paced around the room, bounced his foot up and down, fidgeted with his hands; anything to try and pass the time as the minutes passed by agonizingly slow. After he had already been there for what felt like days within the timespan of a few hours, he saw a nurse walk towards him. “Mr. Calhoun?”

Barney’s head lifted up, looking towards the nurse before following her down a hallway. After a couple-minutes walk, they stopped in front of a door leading to a recovery room. “He’s in there,” The nurse stated. “He’s currently sleeping, so I ask you to be quiet and not attempt to wake him up.”

“...Yeah.” Barney hesitated before walking through the door, stepping into the room, seeing a curtain blocking his view of the bed. He paused, standing in place for a moment as he wondered if the face he was about to see was truly Gordon, or simply someone mistaken as him. He wondered if he wanted the answer, or if he’d rather live in ignorance, avoiding the crippling disappointment if it wasn’t the man he thought it was, but as he walked past the curtain, every worry in his mind ceased and his thoughts became silent as he looked at the man on the bed.

Sure, his body was covered with blood-soaked bandages, his right leg was in a cast, he had medical equipment around him, and he was missing his glasses, but his face was painfully recognizable. Barney choked back a sob, covering his mouth when he saw Gordon’s face again.

“Are you alright?” The nurse behind him asked, noticing Barney’s teary-eyed look.

“I’m fine.” Barney whispered before letting out a short chuckle and a forced smile. “It’s just…he didn’t change a damn bit.”

Barney hadn’t even noticed it had been an hour since he entered the room, being surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 10 PM. He sat on a chair beside Gordon’s bed, having moved it from the corner of the room to right beside it. His leg bounced up and down as he looked at Gordon, all before lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh. He wished to speak to him but he was out of words he could possibly say at that very moment, not to mention the wish to stay quiet so Gordon could recover without being woken up. He wanted to tell Gordon everything that had happened in his absence; how Kleiner started up another lab to continue Black Mesa’s studies, how Eli also set up one on the other side of the city, and how Barney had finished college and was able to become a nurse. Gordon missed so much, and even though Barney wished to dump every piece of information onto him, he realized that even the realization that it had been ten years would be overwhelming enough. Thus, Barney figured to start simple, and just talk, like friends, for the first time since the Black Mesa incident.

As Barney leaned back into his seat he felt the back of his head hit something that wasn’t there before, feeling bitter cold yet organic at the same time, like a corpse’s fingers curling around the top of the backrest. He swung around, half expecting someone to be there, yet he saw nothing of the sort, seeing only the beige wall behind him. Barney let out his breath, looking back at Gordon before realizing he should head back; his stress and emotional state must have made him paranoid, not to mention the feeling of his hair standing on end. He stood up, walking towards the door out of the room before taking one last look back at Gordon before he finally left.

Later that night, Barney paced around his living room, being watched by his pet rottweiler as he talked on the phone. “The Survey team were the ones that found him?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Kleiner stated from the other side of the line. “The Vortigaunt was apparently the one that found him, specifically.”

“I see.”

“Quite Miraculous,” Kleiner continued, “The fact that Gordon had survived there for ten years before being found.”

“Yeah…” Barney unsurely stated under his breath.

“Nevermind that, what are you planning now?” Kleiner asked. “Should we have some kind of party? A celebration should be in order for him being back, I’d say–”

“I think he needs rest, he’s…been through a lot.” Barney stated. “I’ve thought of him staying over at my place until he can find a place of his own or until he recovers, but we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure we can find a spare room in the lab for him.”

“I dunno if he’d wanna live in a loud lab with a headcrab, doc.”

“...I suppose you have a fair point.”

“It was just so…strange.” Barney stated. “They say it was a ten year coma, but I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all.” “What makes you believe that?” 

“The fact he was bleeding. The fact he had fresh wounds from Black Mesa,” Barney elaborated, brows furrowed and his free arm crossing over his chest. “Not to mention the fact he was found with that…suit on.” “What kind of suit?” Kleiner questioned. “Oh, do you mean the Hazardous Environment Suit?”

“Yeah. Why would he be wearing it ten years after the incident was already over?”

“Who knows,” Kleiner sighed, “I’m sure I can talk with Eli to see if he has any ideas on–” Kleiner was interrupted by a loud crash and squeaking coming from behind him, audible through Barney’s phone. “Goodness gracious, LAMAR, NO–”

“You alright Doc?” 

“I’ll have to speak with you later, Lamar got in the vents again–Lamar get DOWN from there, that’s not safe!” After that, the call ended, and Barney was left to himself once again. Barney sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket before he heard a deep ruff coming from his dog, who was laying next to the couch in the living room, with its white patches of fur on its snout showing its age.

“You hear that, Gordon?” Barney said. “You might get a new roommate…a…different Gordon.”

The dog yawned and rested his head on his paws as Barney walked towards the living room couch, sitting on it and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of it. He leaned over the armrest, scratching the top of the dog’s head. “Guess I’ll have to explain to him why you’re also named Gordon, huh bud?”

Gordon didn’t respond, instead just letting out a soft ruff again. Barney leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling before folding his hands on top of his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why his pet was named after his friend, he realized. After all, it’s not very easy to tell someone you thought they were dead for years.

As soon as Barney received the call that Gordon was awake the following evening, Barney rushed back to the hospital to visit him once again. As he drove across the city, worries he didn’t think about before began to creep up inside his brain. Even though he didn’t necessarily believe the coma theory the doctors had, nor did he believe even they believed it fully, he thought of the possibility of it being true, and if Gordon would even remember who Barney was after a full decade of sleep. It would be a surprise if Gordon remembered anything after that amount of time, but Barney pushed down his pessimism, trying to be optimistic just this once.

After making his way down the hospital hallway once again, he found himself back in front of the door to Gordon’s room, with a nervous feeling deep in his gut as he prepared to walk inside. He took in a breath and stepped inside, looking towards the bed in which Gordon was laying on, only to have his gaze met by two bright green eyes, ones Barney hadn't seen since ten years prior. Barney froze in place, staring back at Gordon, who appeared to be surprised to see him. As Barney sat down in the chair beside the bed, he swallowed hard, wondering what he could possibly say now that Gordon was awake. As he thought to himself, a question left his mouth that he wasn’t initially planning on asking:

“Where were you?”

The question lingered in the air like a foul odor, with Gordon’s brows furrowing lip quivering slightly, all while he curled his hands into fists. He turned away from Barney, looking down at his feet, thinking of something to say, though his hands didn’t once lift up to sign a single word.

“You…disappear for 10 years without warning,” Barney continued. “Leaving everyone to believe you were dead.”

Gordon didn’t make eye contact with Barney as he spoke.

“I thought you were dead and buried somewhere, Gordon,” Barney choked. “But…You’re here in front of me now.”

Gordon glanced at Barney before he felt arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tight, but not too tight to make it hurt.

“I fucking missed you, Gordon.” Barney said as he hugged Gordon, feeling the gesture being returned to him. Gordon’s hands shook, feeling weak and cold, yet he didn’t want to let go of the single shred of kindness he had felt since what felt like eternity. After a few moments Barney let go, sitting back down with red, tear-filled eyes. 

“...You…missed a lot.” Barney stated; Gordon nodded knowingly in response. “I’d tell ya’ everything, but…I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are they safe?” Gordon’s hands were shaking, but Barney could make out the message regardless.

“Who, like…Kleiner? Eli?”

Gordon nodded slightly, lips pursed in anticipation. 

“They’re alright,” Barney assured, allowing Gordon to let out a breath. “In fact…they’re excited to see you again. Kleiner especially, he’s hoping to get you back into his lab…don’t know if you want to do that, but the offer’s there.”

Gordon appeared to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders at the news, but the cold yet somber gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Barney planned to tell Gordon that they were among the few survivors of the Black Mesa incident, but he bit his tongue for the time being.

“...Never thought you’d be in the history books, did ya?” Barney let out a lighthearted chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re a hero in everyone’s eyes, now.”

Gordon shook his head, looking down and away from Barney’s gaze as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Barney stared at him with a look of confusion and worry, all before forcefully clearing his throat. 

“I’m just…happy to see you alive, Gordon.” Barney stated. “After…a few years I began to…to lose hope.” Barney paused for a second, realizing Gordon was still not meeting his gaze. “...Should’ve known you were a tougher son of a bitch than that, I guess.”

Gordon scoffed slightly before shaking his head again, still staring at his feet. Silence fell as Barney attempted to think of something else to say to ease the tense atmosphere, though his thoughts were blank and void of any ideas. Barney looked towards Gordon yet again, seeing he was raising his hands up to sign something:

“Missed you too.”

Barney smiled slightly, despite feeling as if he wanted to cry right then and there. He never anticipated he’d be this emotional in his life, yet here he was; about to cry for the second time that day. Seeing his legally dead friend after ten years of being missing in action was enough to warrant it, he supposed.

“I’m sure the others will be happy to show you everything they’ve been working on,” Barney said, with Gordon finally looking back up at him, before looking directly behind him, “They’ve been working on a new telepor–”

Gordon flinched, staring at something behind Barney before attempting to crawl backwards, nearly ripping off his IV in the process. Barney looked behind him, seeing nothing but the wall before he heard a loud thud coming from the bed. He turned, seeing Gordon had fallen off of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor. “Gordon!” Barney quickly ran to his aid, holding out an arm for Gordon to grab, lifting him off of the floor. When weight was put onto his right leg, Gordon grimaced, using Barney as leverage as he was put back onto the bed. “Jeez Gordon, what got you freaked out so ba–”

Barney was silenced when Gordon hugged him without warning. Barney could hear him quietly sobbing into his shoulder, and as he returned the hug, he wondered if he had ever seen Gordon so touchy before; It was as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. This time however, Barney wasn’t quick to let go. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend behind again.

Not this time.

[edamette]

A package

a little headcanon story about how König got his bracelet of the arachnid skin

Your wrist aches and you can’t get it out of the grip. The coldness in his gaze burns more than the bitter frost.

“Do that again and I’ll break it.”

You jerk your hand, but he doesn’t let go warningly, he holds it for another second, and then only slightly loosens his grip.

“What the hell?” you frown. König now looked like he didn't recognize you. He looks at your hand, then at your face and only says:

“Nein.”

His fingers feel your quickening pulse. The fabric of the glove scratches the skin unpleasantly. It’s hard to read his emotions on his face, hidden by the mask and balaclava that you tried to pull off. You glare at him angrily and jerk your hand again.

“Do you understand?”

The air seemed to become tense.

“König,” you mutter through clenched teeth, “let me go.”

He looks at you for a while longer, and then releases your hand. Your face darkens with anger.

“Are you satisfied?” his voice lowered, his arms crossed over his chest.

“And what was that?” you give him an equally cold look, instinctively rubbing your wrist.

König remains silent, as if testing you, and only after a while breaks it:

“I don’t like it when people touch me without permission,” his fingers twitch reflexively, as if trying to grab onto something, to defend himself, “if you’re done trying to remove the mask, you can continue.”

“At first you don’t react when your name is called, and then you attack and are ready to break my arms,” you snort irritably.

His eyes narrow.

“You shouldn’t take lack of reaction as permission to touch me whenever you want. But keep that warning in mind.”

“Screw you,” you say angrily.

He clenches his jaw and looms over you as an ebon shadow in response to this behavior, and then raises his voice.

“Screw me, but you'll lick the entire warehouse clean today. Another insubordination - you will do it with your tongue. And now, fifty push-ups.”

You silently look into his eyes. It feels like you are crossing blades, as if testing who has the stronger steel in eyes.

“Eighty,” he says evenly.

Anger makes you feel noticeably vulnerable, and you deliberately replace it with disdain and indifference in your eyes. Raising your chin arrogantly, you lower yourself to the floor and begin to do push-ups. König towers over you like a silent rock, crossing his arms over his chest and watching you do the exercises.

“Don't lift your head. And don’t spread elbows.” a voice is heard from above.

You grit your teeth but don't say anything.

When you finish the last push-up and stand up, he's still looking at you expectantly.

“Since you’ve finished reading the lectures, then I’ll go,” without waiting for any answer, you walk around him, heading towards the exit.

König allowed you a lot. Even more. As soon as you leave, he sighs tiredly. You needed to tell him something, but now pride clouds your mind, and you leave on principle without saying a word about it.

You decisively walk along the hallways of the base and at some point, turn into a weapons storage. You do everything automatically, attach the card, open the desired locker and take out your favorite rifle. A brand new one, received quite recently, somewhat modified, but with a couple of scratches from previous missions. You take out a rag and begin to mindlessly but diligently move it over it, wiping the already clean trunk. You do not pay attention to the shadow that loomed after some time in your peripheral vision, continuing to wipe your weapon even with excessive zeal.

You glance into nothing at some point, without looking at König standing silently in the doorway, leaning his shoulder on the door frame.

The silent presence gets on your nerves, and you put the rifle butt down on the floor, turning to König. Your hand rests possessively on the gun, as if provoking him. Many in KorTac knew about his desire to become a sniper. König is silent for a few moments, collecting his thoughts, before finally breaking the silence with a response. His voice is calm but firm as he says:

“You know that handling a sniper rifle should not be taken lightly. It takes discipline and focus,” he pauses for a moment, studying your confident stance and the way you hold your rifle with the ease of an expert and the way you roll your eyes before continuing, “but to become a true sniper, it takes more than just skill.”

You look at him for a few moments with your mouth slightly open and your eyebrows drawn together on the bridge of your nose. A provocation to provoke emotions and teach a lesson? First a laugh escapes your throat involuntarily, then a second, and then you burst into laughter, shaking your whole body.

“Are you serious now?” you ask, giggling.

No, definitely an attempt to smooth things over. He knows how stupid his line sounds, he deliberately encourages you to laugh, he wants to relieve the tension between you. König is silent, checking the reaction. His emotions cannot be counted under the mask, but by the way his chest sank and his eyes half-closed, you understand that he exhaled with relief.

“And you seem to understand this,” you decide to play along with him, teasing him in response.

Something trembled in the depths of his eyes.

“Do you think it's just a matter of weapons? I would have done great if only I had been given the chance.”

You fall silent, looking intently into his eyes. Your eyebrows go up. His remark, similar to an excuse, sounded like a cry from the soul. You knew he wanted to be a sniper, but you didn’t think it would affect him so much, especially after all this time. His words hang in the air. Suddenly becoming serious, you look at him for a few seconds, and after a while you silently nod to the seat next to you, calling him to sit down. König’s gaze flickers between you and the spot you pointed to. After a moment's hesitation, he takes a step closer, heading towards you. Without a word, he sits down next to you, his massive body a stark contrast to your much smaller frame.

Without further ado, you hand him the rifle. He carefully takes it from your hands, his fingers wrapping around the shaft. The weight of the weapon seems to make him feel a little nostalgic, and his touch on it is combined with a mixture of respect and longing, as if he were holding something fragile and long lost. You watch his reaction sideways, watching as he takes the rifle off the safety, checks the magazine, adjusts the scope. All these movements are neat, honed to the point of automaticity. You rest your elbows on your knees, burying your face in your hands, looking away guiltily, not wanting to bother him with it.

“I like this model even more than the previous one. And the sight was finally well calibrated,” you say, as if by chance.

“They finally did something honestly,” König agrees.

He disassembled the rifle with obvious pleasure from the process. You lean back tiredly and stretch your legs, listening to the metallic clicks. As you watch him, you notice how the tension in his shoulders gradually eases. Apparently, this moment of concentration brings him peace. When König hands the rifle back to you, you give him a straight look before taking it from his hands and placing the weapon in the locker. An unspoken peace was concluded.

You leave the warehouse together and König accompanies you with a heavy tread. Entering the dining room, you silently sit down at the table while he rummages through the drawers. The silence is deafening, the aroma of coffee fills the room, and you point your nose towards the kitchen. You close your eyes and listen in silence.

König puts a couple of cups on the table and sits down opposite. Indifferently he pulls off his mask. You had seen his face more than once, but something stirred inside you every time he took it off. You didn’t understand why he wears it all the time, he doesn’t have any serious injuries or flaws on his face to hide them. His face is the most normal, but at the same time he reacted so violently when you tried to pull it off that it confused you.

The ocean depth of his eyes rushes into you, noticing your attention. He leans back in his chair, sipping his coffee, without looking away and as if asking: “Are you satisfied?” You just grin in response, repeating his action. When the cup lands on the table, you decide to break the silence with what you came to him for in the first place:

“There is a package for you. They say it was from one of the hostages you rescued in Berlin.”

König looks thoughtful, then nods slightly, accepting the information, taking a couple more sips.

“Thank you.”

He finishes his coffee before you do, and then gets up and leaves the kitchen. You slouch, throwing one arm over the back of the chair and smiling sadly at his dry gratitude, looking into your cup. Something was missing. Even though peace had been restored between you, a piece of the puzzle seemed missing. You slump in a chair, sighing as you stare at the ceiling.

But you raise your head in surprise, instantly straighten up after a while, hearing footsteps and again seeing the tall figure of König. He crosses the room and sits down again, placing the small box on the table. Without wasting any time, König opens it to the confusion and interest in your gaze. You watch patiently as he unfolds the neatly folded letter.

“Hello, Colonel,” he begins.

The corners of your lips creep up, and you listen to him read out the text. Shy and sweet formulations, tons of epithets and thanks testify to the young age of the author, which you cannot help but be touched by. A gift was attached to the letter. König takes out a scarlet bracelet, clearly handmade, and examines it.

“Will you wear it?” your smile widens, and you can’t understand why exactly: how nice the author of the package is or because König trusted you, since he decided to show what he received.

His gesture seemed to now burn out all the negative emotions inside that filled you before. He puts on a bright bracelet that contrasts so sharply with his uniform, glinting in the dim light. He twists his hand, looking from different sides.

“Of course I will.”

[drivinmeinsane]

Snowstorm ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Ten ※ Colt Seavers / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: You and Colt discover that some gambles don't pay off.

※ Rating: No mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Cuddling for Warmth, Ill-advised Winter Safety Practices, Fluff/Humor

※ Word count: 1998

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

Despite your layers, you’re shivering enough that your teeth feel like they’re going to rattle right out of your skull. It’s hard to imagine that the weather is going to take a turn for the worse when it’s already cold enough in the warehouse that everyone’s breath is visible in front of their faces. This far north by the Great Lakes is always a gamble this time of year. This movie production is certainly not winning the lottery. 

“Alright crew, let's wrap this up,” calls the team lead. 

Everyone picks up speed, finishing their tasks so they can separate into pairs and small groups to carpool back to their temporary housing. Automatically, you gravitate towards Colt. The two of you have been working off and on together for years on various movie sets. Being around him comes as easily and naturally as breathing. It was a massive relief when you were assigned to share an airbnb for the couple months you’re going to be spending here. 

“This sucks, huh?” You comment, helping him to roll up an impact mat. 

He laughs, breath clouding the air. “Yeah, it super sucks.”

The rest of the crew files out while the two of you work, alternating between sweating and freezing. Securing all the impact mats for storage is a miserable task, but it gets done. The building is empty aside from Colt and you. 

The stunt guy straightens up, groaning as his back loudly pops. “Ready to bounce on outta here?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

At the door, the two of you take the time to adjust your layers. Colt wraps your scarf around your head teasingly after offering to help you put it on. You give him a scathing look between the layers of material before you break and the two of you start laughing. Colt is wiping at his eyes, still chuckling a little, when you shove the door open. 

The cold air immediately tears right through your clothes. The hollow thud and click of the door closing and locking behind you both sounds ominous. Colt offers his arm to you and you take it, resigning yourself to the weather conditions. The snow is coming down heavily, making it difficult to see across the sprawling parking. 

Your Lord of the Rings worthy journey to Colt’s truck starts out easily enough, until you wipe out on a snow-covered patch of ice. If it wasn’t for the death grip you have on each other's arms, you would bust your ass right then and there. Instead, you and Colt end up doing a weird dance to try to stay upright. 

“Maybe we should consider a career in couples ice skating. Maybe retire from the stunts biz.” Colt suggests, breathing heavily from the unexpected exertion.

“Toddler level, maybe,” you grumble back, foot skidding again. You hate the fact that the stunt crew has to park clear out of the way on the very fringes of the parking lot. 

You risk a glance at your coworker. His gaze is focused intently on the ground. Snowflakes are collecting in his beard and in his shaggy hair, making his blue eyes appear even bluer. After what feels like an age of taking minuscule steps across a frozen wasteland, you finally spot his garishly colored truck through the snow. You’ve never been happier to see the yellow and brown eyesore. 

Colt helps you up into the passenger seat. Once you're settled, he pushes his tuck keys into your hand. You pass him the windshield scraper in return. It was a new purchase after having to use the airbnb’s dustpan the first morning the two of you had walked out to the vehicle to find it under a thick layer of snow. 

“Start her for me?”

Mumbling an affirmative, you lean over and slot the key into the ignition switch and twist. The truck sparks to life with a smooth rumble. Meanwhile, Colt skirts around the edge of the vehicle. He’s scraping at the windshield, chiseling the packed snow in sheets. He suddenly slips, hitting his sternum on the truck’s grille guard. Upon seeing your horrified expression through the cleared glass, he flashes you a thumbs up and a grimace. You give him the same in return.

Working faster now, he finishes the windshield and makes sure that the side windows and mirrors are clear. He knocks the scraper clean before opening the door and heaving himself into the truck. The stunt man tosses it at your feet onto the already cluttered floorboard. The cold air that followed him into the cab does neither of you any favors.

“You think we’re good, Colt?” You ask, watching him pull off his gloves and tuck them into his sun visor for safekeeping.

“Hope so. If it doesn't get worse we should be fine,” he says with a shrug only to yelp when his bare hands come in contact with the steering wheel. “Shit, that’s cold!”

With the heat on full blast, Colt backs out of the parking lot and then you’re off to the airbnb. He handles the truck expertly. While not used to driving in what is essentially a blizzard, the man has done enough crazy stunts to keep from skidding all over the road. That and his monstrosity of a vehicle with its sizable off-roading tires makes the trip go a little easier. 

“Colt…” You say, worried. The weather is getting worse, much worse. The truck is struggling to maintain traction.

“Yeah, I know, sweetheart.” Both of you are so glued to the increasingly limited visibility and heavier snowfall that neither of you acknowledge the unintentional endearment Colt lets slip.

Spotting a ihop coming up, he makes the choice to pull into the empty lot. There’s no way he’s going to be able to push through. The weather is just too bad for his vehicle. The restaurant is clearly closed. This isn’t the southern part of the United States where there’s a Waffle House around to keep its doors open no matter the situation.

“There’s no way a tow truck is going to be able to get out here, is there?” You comment rhetorically. 

Beside you, Colt groans when he can’t get reception on his cell phone. “Looks like we’re going to be here until the plows come through. Might be in the morning.”

You sigh and settle into your seat. Both of your phone batteries are too low to risk running them down by idly scrolling through old saved pictures. It’s going to be a long night. 

To pass the time, you decide to lean over and rummage through the pile of trash and receipts on the floorboard. Like his apartment, he does not keep his truck clean or organized. You spend the next couple hours going through his receipts and judging him for his purchases. It’s mostly “Another Bonsai tree?” and “Just how much do you love this fast food place?” while your best friend does his damndest to defend himself as though he’s in front of an imaginary jury. 

Eventually, the light fades too much to see the small text. Colt has long since turned off the truck. As the sun dips below the horizon, it gets colder in the cab. 

You shiver and Colt notices. “C’mere.”

You slide across the bench seat and underneath his offered arm. He’s warm but the meager contact is too scant to do much. You seem to take turns shivering against one another. 

“It’s a shame we don’t have a tauntaun,” he says suddenly. 

You turn your face into the side of his chest to smother a groan at the reference. “I’d give anything for a hot drink right now.”

Colt makes a sound in agreement and slides down in his seat, struggling to get comfortable. His knee hits the steering wheel and you feel his pained exhale. “Yeah, I would too.”

A particularly vicious wind tears over the truck. It feels like it bypasses the layers of barely insulated metal entirely. The two of you clutch at each other in response. The lack of light isn’t helping it feel any warmer or cozier. Snow has entirely covered the windshield and the windows are fogged up from your breath and body heat. 

“I’ll turn on the truck for a sec to run the heater, but then I guess we oughta try to get some sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You don’t separate when Colt turns the key. The warm air is luxurious against your cold face. You nearly shove your fingers into the vent. He turns the truck off once you’re both sufficiently warmed. Now comes the difficult part, navigating where to put your bodies for sleep. The temperature has ruined any semblance of personal space. 

“Wanna be on top?” 

“If you insist on bottoming, stunt guy.”

“Oh, I always insist.”

Nearly hitting your head on the cab’s roof, you manage to shove yourself off of the bench seat enough for Colt to wedge himself into the short space. You can barely make out his shape. His hands find you and he guides you on top of himself. He hisses sharply and puts a hand over your kneecap when you graze it dangerously close to his crotch. 

“I don't have plans for kids any time soon, but I’d like to keep my options open,” he jokes.

Finally, you are settled on top of him. It’s incredibly uncomfortable for both of you. He’s got his knees drawn up, shins against the door. Your left knee is wedged between his hip and the seat as you lay with your cheek on his shoulder. His arms are up and around you. Yours are tucked alongside his torso with your hands under his shoulders. You feel like a pair of pretzels.

You lay in silence, listening to the winter storm outside. Both of you start to shiver again.

“I know it’s silly but-”

“This sucks so-” you accidentally start at the same time. “Go ahead,” you encourage. 

You hear him swallow. He seems stiff, nervous all of a sudden. “I know it’s silly, but uh… skin to skin contact works. With us both wearing jackets we can’t share body heat as well. So maybe if we… Wow, I promise I’m not trying to come onto you.”

“Okay.” You say gently.  

Sitting up in his lap, his hands fall from your back to the sides of your hips. You unzip your jacket. You’re instantly colder. Underneath you, you feel Colt’s breath hitch and pick up the pace. You put your hands on his amble chest and find his coat zipper and tug it down. His fingers twitch, but they don’t make any move to stop you. You push his shirt up over his pectorals, all the way to his neck. You don’t touch his bare skin with your fingers. His hands find the hem of your shirt and together you draw it up to your collarbone. Both of you are bared in the truck cabin. 

The man leaves you holding your shirt in place while his hands move to your back. He guides you into laying down on top of him. Your friend sucks in a breath and exhales slowly as inch by inch you make contact. Your bare skin colliding is sinfully warm. 

You sigh into his neck, resisting the urge to press a kiss against it even as the stubble of his jaw grazes your face. He pulls his jacket up and over you as much as he can. His hold on you is tight, comforting. The direct contact of his body provides much more heat than between the layers. You’re not as cold as you were before. 

“Heck of a holiday season, huh?” You mumble, already beginning to drift off.

Colt hums in agreement. Before you slip entirely under into the oblivion of sleep, you swear you feel a kiss pressed to your forehead and a low “Sweet dreams.” that rumbles against your chest.

[empressofthesunwriter]

Beauty Is A Curse

Queen B.

Beauty Queen.

Wear your mask, don't let them see.

The Girl underneath.

Hide, hide, hide under snide and pride.

Use a sharp tongue to make them bow.

You are the Queen of this school.

Beautiful, so beautiful, yet deep down, you feel so vacant.

You scream inside and no one hears.

They love your face, but what about your soul?

Beauty is a curse for sure.

Four

#NO COMMENTS NO CHAPTER

(*)

Paulina was scared.

She never felt such terror like this.

And the best part was that Danny was away and couldn't even talk her down.

Shaking sitting in her Hideout, thinking about what happened these days.

When she had gone to the cinema with Star, they had seen the cardboard cutout for the newest Sayonara Pussycat movie.

Star had out loud wished to be as cute as the anime cat and...poof she turned into a chibi-version of herself.

Paulina just stared on with an open mouth at how all adored and celebrated her transformed friend.

She didn't know what to do.

Then a flash of white and black tackled Chibi-Star and they were gone.

Finally, Paulina could move again.

Star was a cruel bitch, but she was still her best friend.

So Paulina searched for her and both friends found each other in a storage room of the cinema.

Star didn't remember anything, only her head hurt.

This already was creepy and scary, however, what happened the next day to herself, set Paulina off.

Till now she couldn't explain it.

One moment she was walking outside school, enjoying her lunchtime, the next...it was like she had fallen asleep.

She only remembered how a voice that wasn't hers yelled out loud that she wasn't friends with Danny anymore before the narcotic feeling left her and she had control over her body again.

Ignoring all the confused stares of her classmates, she hightailed out of the situation.

What was going on in Amity Park?

The Latina had tried talking to Danny, but to her luck, he caught a bad cold and now was off to Wisconsin with his family to participate in the college reunion of his parents.

What should she do?

Could she do something?

That's when a crazy idea formed in her head.

Fast she returned home and sat before her computer.

She took a deep breath, tipping supernatural activities into the search machine.

Anything that had happened couldn't be explained normally...so it had to be the opposite.

For hours, she read, and read, and read till she found something that fit.

Ghosts.

What experts wrote on their powers, came really close to what she had experienced.

Signing she looked at the website.

When Danny returned she needed to talk to him.

(*)

Danny was happy and surprised at how Paulina wanted to meet up with him in a secret place.

Of course, his brain got wild ideas, which he tried to calm down.

Still...if they did kiss this whole disaster of a weekend would turn out good.

He entered the abandoned warehouse where Paulina wanted to meet him and got up on the rooftop.

There he saw her in clothes he never guessed she owned.

A big black hoody, jogging pants and sneakers.

She was absolutely cute.

"Hey Paulina.", he greeted her warmly. "How are you? You sounded frantic on the phone."

His crush stepped to him and formally threw herself into his arms.

Danny blushed up a storm but held her tight as she started to unload all that had troubled her the past weeks.

Oh dear god, he felt so guilty.

Paulina had noted all the ghost activities and that he and Tucker, when he had ghost powers for a while, overshadow her didn't help his crush at all to stay calm.

"I-I researched.", she stuttered, while Danny caressed her long black hair. "It points all out to Ghosts...Danny, I am crazy?"

She looked into his eyes, tears falling down.

No...it broke his heart.

In a way, it was his fault that she was like this.

Sam and Tucker, mostly Sam, would probably have his head for it, however, Paulina deserved to know that he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"No you are not crazy.", he assured her and made them both sit down on the ground. "I have to tell you something Paulina, but you have to swerve to not tell anyone."

Sniffling Paulina nodded.

So he started from the beginning.

How his parents made an inactive Ghost Portal, how he walked into it like a dumbass and it turned on and transformed him into a Half-Ghost.

How since then he fought ghosts left and right and all that she had seen and experienced had to do with his superhero side job.

"I never wanted to hurt anybody, especially you, some kind of hero I am.", he ended.

Fearful of her reaction he looked up and found a pensive Paulina.

She didn't scream, she didn't call him a freak, she calmly asked more questions to understand.

It seemed like hours they sat on this rooftop till Paulina was satisfied.

"I won't say I am happy about that you and your friend overshadow me.", she made clear. "But Danny you are a hero and use your powers for good. Thank you for trusting me with your secret I won't tell a soul."

"I'm glad I could calm you down Paulina, I was worried."

Shy he took her hand and caressed it.

This made Paulina blush cutely before she leaned in and gave him a cheek kiss, which made now him blush.

Now they were both blushing messes, smiling like lovey-dovey idiots at each other.

They both felt how their relationship turned deeper and more intimate.

And maybe one day they would have the courage to tell the other what they really felt.

But for the moment Danny helped her up and asked grinning: "Would you like to go on a flight?"

"I would love to.", agreed Paulina smiling.

In wonder, she saw how Danny transformed into his ghost half.

He was still the most handsome boy she knew.

Danny picked her up bridal-style, which made Paulina gasp and wrap her arms around his neck and shoot with her into the sky.

At first, Paulina had her eyes closed before Danny encouraged her to open them.

Since she trusted him with her life she did.

"Oh my gosh!", she gasped and looked at the faraway ground and then up to the starry sky above them. "It's absolutely beautiful!"

"This is my favourite part of my powers.", confessed Danny. "I love flying!"

Paulina gripped his neck harder and let out a pretty laugh as he flowed up higher.

"I can totally agree with that!"

It seemed they flew over Amity Park for hours before Danny brought her safely home.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, which made him blush of course and both promised to see each other tomorrow in school.

With a lighter and happier heart, Paulina falls asleep.

(*)

#NO COMMENTS NO CHAPTER

[tht0nesimp]

Yandere Shalnark- Darling

TW: Yandere themes, reader was obtained disgustingly, kidnapping, violence, kinda short, probably only like 1k words, drugging, manipulation, debt, kinda loan-sharks

(fic under cut)

"Bye" you got off of the phone with your landlord, "Shit" you sit on the curb outside of the apartment complex and hide your face in your hands. You sat and listened to the rain for what felt like the rest of your life

The rain was so loud, almost loud enough to block out a pair of quiet footsteps. It was far too late, the second you truly noticed the door hadnt opened was the same second the rag was placed over your face, The night sky blared in your eyes as it blurred and contorted the more you breathed in the sickeningly sweet chemical

You didnt expect to wake up, and certainly not in a dark room which seemed to inhabit just you and likely whatever creepy crawlies were sitting in the corners of these god forsaken walls. You cursed everything, you prayed that your friends and family knew you loved them and every other thing that came to mind

When instead of death, you were met with two men standing infront of you "ill be taking her now, feitan, thank you" you assume the other man just nodded because you were picked up, the man carried you for quite some time before you were dropped, the blindfold stopped you from seeing but you could hear a key jingling before you were picked up once more by the man, who dropped you on a concrete floor "im going to untie you now,ok" you dont have time to answer before the rope around your limbs was sliced quicker than you ask who he was

By the time you stood up and took off the blindfold he was on the other side of the room, sitting on a storage box in the large warehouse "sorry, i cant take you back to my place right now" You quickly back away from him, the door not unlocking as you rattle the door knob "sorry, your gonna need a key for that" The blonde man held up a key before placing it back in his pocket in one liquid motion

"Who are you?" The man seems to have a look of fake betrayal as he gasps "you really dont remember!..You were at a bank we robbed" Your eyes widen as the man "Me and the troupe that is, im Shalnark" your lungs seem to completely give up on you, it would seem so since they were unable to take a breath

"Are you going to hyperventilate?" Shalnark pulls out a small device with wings on the side "Id love to get a video" he gives a sweet smile and points the camera at you while you struggle to breathe on the cold concrete floor

"Whats going on?" A small boy comes out of the dark "Nothing, Kalluto" The boy takes one small glance at your struggling form and flicks his fan at you, A slew of air coming into your lungs as he does, You watch him leave just as quickly as he had entered the strangely tense room

"Thank you?..." you said as he quietly returned to his position elsewhere "Youll get used to it, afterall, youve got a lifetime!" he smiles and seems to be surprised when you perk up "What do you mean?!" His face returns to a near constant smile as he just looks at you like a child throwing a tantrum over something silly "I kidnapped you, i own you now..Youll never leave me" he says it as if its the most childish thing possible

"How did you find me" Shalnark laughs and gives you a glare "I didnt, your debt found me" he gets off of the box and approaches your shaking form, giggling when you tremble as his arm snakes around your shoulder "Your trembling darling! Im gonna bring you out to my..friends" his hand rests on your neck, threatening to squeeze but not quite doing so "If you act up, there will be consequences" his face gets much darker and disturbing than before, but he goes back to just being friendly as his arm returns around your shoulder as he practically carries you into another room "Hello!" he shouts out to the multiple men and women siting around the building "This is Y/N" he says as he drops you on an old couch next to the most muscular man you had ever seen "Nice to meet you" He holds his hand out and gives you a grin that showed his sharp teeth "Dont scare her uvo!" Uvogin just smiles "Just being polite, you dont mind? Right doll?" He turns to look at you once more, shalnark also sends you a look but his is a piercing glare "Well..uhm.." you shrug and the two both seemed to be annoyed at the fakely nonchalant action

Shalnark approaches you and grabs your wrist in almost an unbelievably tight grip, Another man in a black cowl seemed to take notice and smile as shalnark inches ever closer to breaking your wrist, you manage to pull your wrist away and inch away from shalnark. "darling, we'll talk about that later" he whispers in your ear while bending down to your height as you hug your knees and look around the room once more, eventually just keeping your head down

The people in the room spoke, they were so caught up they didnt seem to notice when you slinked away to explore, finding an exit quite quickly as you walk out into the surronding pavement to go down the street. You pause when you read the sign...The nearest town was 20 miles away and you were pretty sure there was just about no one around

You came back to the building and entered once more, noticing commotion in another room. You enter and shalnark practically tackles you "You left, pick your next words very wisely" his smile still remained as he stood above your form "im sorry" the smile fades and he gets off of you "You will be" he practically drags you until your behind closed doors

He pins you down on the ground, kneeling so he was in a position with your arm at his mercy "If i break your arm..you wont be able to leave for a couple weeks.." he debates his choice "if i break a leg..i could keep you here forever" he bites his lip, seeming to think about his desicion

You scream when your arm is pulled, the bone popping and dislocating "I havent even broken it yet!" he laughs as tears stream down your face and onto the floor. He pulls harder and laughs once more when your scream gets louder "Its not that bad! Maybe ill do your leg too~" he coos in your ear as he pulls until he hears a clean snap

He gets up and stretches "That really got me worked up...maybe i can help feitan out!" he smiles and waves goodbye as he goes off to find feitan. Your left with a disgustingly intense pain in your arm, You get on the nearby bed which you assumed was his and clutched your arm

Hours pass, He returns and is suprised to see you still laying down crying "I guess i overestimated you...You are just a civilian after all" he sits down next to you and hands you a bottle of pain relief pills and a gatorade "I stole them from some store nearby" he says it as if its normal as he watches you take the pills "They might make you tired" he looks at you, watching you yawn "Feel free to go to bed, i have to be out tonight" theres a carelessness in his voice as he walks out

You give into sleep, curling up under the thin blankets as the pain dies down

You wake up to shalnark leaning over you, "Your finally awake!" he smiles as the pain from your arm registers. He sits down on the bed next to you and pokes your arm "I went out and stole stuff to make this more...comfortable for you" you nod and look at the bag on the floor and a fuzzy blanket that sat next to it "I really shouldnt give them to you..but im choosing to be nice even after your little escape attempt yesterday" you give him a irritated look "it was not an escape attempt" he gives you a sarcastic glance "Sure it wasnt" he searches through the shopping bag on the floor for a moment

"i dont eat breakfast, but Fei said most people do" he puts a yogurt on the bed and smiles as you pick it up. Your about to eat it but look at him and he seems confused before you speak "did you remember to buy a spoon?" it registers "Nope!, another member might have one though" he walks out before you can ask which

Your forced to get out of bed, trying to not put any pressure on your already aching arm as you try to remember the name of the one who you met yesterday. You found him talking to who you assumed was Feitan with your yogurt in one hand as the other laid strangely against your side "Do either of you know where i can find a spoon" You yawn and stare at them as they point to the bar behind you

You approach the bar and see a couple plastic spoons, you picked one up and began eating as the two men watched you retreat back to the room you had came from and sit back down on the bed. You looked at the bag from this morning, but dont dare look inside as you lay your head down

Sleep envelopes you as you quietly shift, you placed the fluffy blanket over you along with the few thin ones that were on the bed. You would sleep until shalnark appeared again...

[barry-j-blupjeans]

key to the storage unit/ oh but I gotta know? thank you!!!

object + emotion prompt list here! still accepting!!

19. Key to a storage unit.

20. OH BUT I GOTTA KNOW??? I GOTTA

--

Kravitz could have sworn that being sneaky used to be a lot easier. Maybe people— necromancers, in particular, because that's those are the only people Kravitz had been around for a good while— had just been stupider in the past? It was possible, considering the amount of necromantic knowledge that just got fuckin' blasted into everyone's heads thanks to Story and Song. People had definitely been more dumb when he was alive at least.

But maybe he was coming at this from a weird point of view, considering that he was still getting adjusted to having two people with him on every single mission. The two people who, in particular, had done most of the necromantic research that got blasted out to everyone. And the two people who had multi-classed in so much shit that Kravitz wasn't even sure what their main class was.

Kravitz missed when he only had to worry about Lup and Barry in abstract. Like, "wow, these folks have died way too many times, that's fucked up!" and not "if I say one wrong thing, they will immediately swarm me like over-eager dogs and demand to know where I'm going and if they can go with me".

Unfortunately, Kravitz was bad at saying the right things. So here he was, swarmed, just trying to get his work done.

"We have a storage unit???" Lup said, stepping out of the portal behind him. He heard Barry trip, but he didn't turn to help, because one: Barry should know better by now, and two: Kravitz had to mentally prepare for what was coming next.

"Yep," Kravitz said, walking up to the building. "Well, it's more of a warehouse, if we're being honest, but same difference." It was bleak and cold outside, but it always was in the astral plane. He'd given up asking for a heater long, long ago. Lup and Barry followed behind me.

"And you never told us because…??"

Kravitz stopped at the door, sighing. He turned to face them. Barry's glasses had begun to fog up due to the temperature.

"I need you to promise," Kravitz said, very seriously, very professionally, "that you will not take anything that is in there back with you. Okay? Just like, a little promise—"

"A prommy," Barry said. Lup nodded in agreement.

"A prommy, sure," Kravitz said. "You gotta prommy you won't take any of this shit home, okay?"

"What happens if we do, though," Lup said. She paused. "By accident."

"The Raven Queen will be very, very mad at you," Kravitz said. "Also, depending on what you take, it could fracture the connections between planes, or like, your mind, or your body, or someone else's mind or body, or— a lot of bad shit, is what I'm trying to say. Do you promise?"

Lup and Barry shared a look. That was never a good thing.

"Cross my heart," Barry said, drawing an X across his chest and holding his hand up, like a boy scout.

"Hope to die," Lup said sweetly.

That's… as good as he's going to get, probably. Kravitz turned back to the door, using his pinky to slice another portal through realities and reach his hand into it. He really needed to clean out this pocket dimension, because the minute and a half he spent rooting around in it did not help his cool factor, even like a little bit. He found like, fourteen pens before he found the key.

"What's even in there?" Lup asked as he dug around the pocket dimension. "I gotta know. For science reasons."

"Mostly pens," Kravitz said, embarrassed.

"No, the storage unit, babe," Lup said. "I couldn't care less about your fucked up pocket dimension. Taako's got a whole ass spa in his pocket, it can get worse than that."

It can, but Kravitz wasn't going to say that.

"Oh," Kravitz said. "I knew that."

"Sure you did, bud," Barry said.

"Well, uhm, it's a lot of different stuff?" Was that the key? Aw, fuck, nope, that's a fifteenth pen. "Mostly confiscated necromantic stuff— which you promised not to take!" He could practically hear their disappointment. "Mostly books, but there's some huge ass bones and a few like, cursed objects? It's hard to— You'll— you'll see what I mean."

At long last, he pulled the key out. The key itself was black and sapphire blue, with a raven skull as the bow. Behind him, Barry snapped in appreciation. He slid the key into the door, unlocking it, and then placed the key back in the pocket dimension, so future Kravitz could deal with it. (Future Kravitz would not.)

The room was large and, much like he said, mostly filled with books. There was a loft up near the rafters and rickety stairs that led up to it. Most of what was in here was dust, if he was being honest. Dust and spooky, illegal stuff.

"Alright," Kravitz said. "Much like the Eternal Stockade, this room is mainly a waiting chamber. We're trying to outlast the magical energy these objects have, basically. You should just be able to like, feel if the curses or enchantments have worn off already. If they have, we can start a pile right ov— and you're not listening anymore. Great. Stellar."

Barry and Lup had immediately split off behind him. Lup was headed towards the big bones, Barry was poking around at some of the books already.

Kravitz sighed again. It was going to be a very long day.

[tvchi]

Echoes of Intrigue: Prt 1

Villan

Lola

Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK.

DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Warnings: Mature Audiences ONLY: 18+, Minors DNI- Kidnapping and Bondage.

Pairing: black male x black female

Word Count: 1942

A/N: So I'm fairly new to writing fan fiction and new to writing short stories. I began writing poetry and spoken word, then tried my hand at prose. I've been reading a lot of @megamindsecretlair 's stories as well as @thecapodomme 's story and I thought I'd try my hand. I have posted another short story that wasn't really fan fiction on my page before called The Challenge. I didnt cast it or anything this elaborate, but yea. I'm trying to get better at writing more stories and prompts really help. Casting my stories after writing them actually helps to keep me motivated so I thought this was a good marriage of the two forms. This story currently consists of two parts. I will lay the first part out and then link the second part (when I figure out how to do that lol). If these parts get positive feedback, then I'll force myself to develop the story even further and write the third. Your feedback is greatly appreciated because I'm really trying to get better. So Like, Comment, and Reblog if the spirit moves you. ❤️❤️🥰

Tags: @thecapodomme @writers-of-tmblr @melaninpov @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymusicbias @the-black-label @master-builder42 @miraculously-dumb-bitch @megamindsecretlair @hopefulromantic1 @tranquilfandomer @thadelightfulone @vivalaorgasm

PART 1

The sounds of footsteps are heard in the distance. They are all too familiar. The cadence of his strides haunts my dreams. Always four evenly paced steps before a slight halt. It’s almost as if he’s deciding, studying, …. calculating. He absorbs me. Maybe that’s how he can take me time and time again. He knows how I squirm, how I walk, how I do my hair, and the next time I’ll need tampons. At least, that’s what happened this time. I went to Kroger to get tampons, while walking back to my car everything went dark. 

Waking up here would make this the fourth time I have been dragged here in thirteen months. I’m not sure what’s worse, the fact that I keep getting taken or that I haven't made any strides to stop this from happening. The hard, steel chair that I’ve gotten to know these past couple of months comforts me a bit. It’s about the only thing that hasn’t changed. Every time, there's a different warehouse, dungeon, storage site, or wherever this is. The lights are always dimmed but there’s always a change in hue from the little I can see through the blindfold. The smells are different, sometimes reeking of mildew and sweat. Other times, it smelled of must and concrete. This time it smelled of wood and dust. Every time I would wake up to this familiar cold chair, I rubbed the spot where I scratched lines into the legs with my nails, and that’s when I knew I hadn't been making this up. 

He steps closer to me. Barely touching me, he lays something down at my feet.  Maintaining minimal contact is a good way to avoid a scuffle and getting his skin under my nails. It’s also a good way to prevent me from noticing a scent or any identifiable body markings, but I have the smell of a bloodhound. Something is different. Something has changed. He doesn’t smell of the usual skin and sweat but of something recognizable. Something that I’ve smelled many times before but can’t quite place.  

    “Why me? Why are you always doing this to me? Have I done something to you,” I say hoarsely. 

I tried my best to keep my voice even. This was an attempt at a conversation, not a cry for mercy or an admonishment. He said nothing. He never speaks. 

 “I just want to know why you keep taking me and then letting me go. Wouldn’t it be easier just to kill me?” I ask, measuring my breaths in between words. Calm. Even. 

He remains silent. That was irritating to me. The least he could do was reveal a sinister plot or threaten to kill me. He wields his power mercilessly, offering me nothing to hang on to not even the next minutes. There is nothing to look forward to but darkness. I can’t plan my prayers or meals or thoughts. I never know when I’ll go; whether this time will be the last. 

The heavy thud of his footsteps suggests that he wears construction or heavy hiking boots. He walks beyond me, hopefully, to retrieve some water or food now that I’m awake. Our last couple of encounters have convinced me that he can’t cook worth a damn. Each time even worse than the last. I never look forward to his sardine surprises, and sometimes, he mixes them with canned beans or cream corn. I imagine that he’ll stay away from the beans this time, being that he had to empty two buckets worth of shit last time. I didn’t feel bad or embarrassed either. Fuck ‘im. That's what you get for kidnapping a girl with a sensitive stomach. I’d kill for a sardine sandwich right about now, though. 

It fell silent for a while. 

That means this room is large or leads to other rooms. The problem is, I never can find a way out. I’ve only been freed because he had let me go. Once, some homeless men found me in an old sewage system. Another time, I was in a forest preserve forty-two miles from home and I hiker alerted the police. Yet another time, I was found by a janitor in the basement of a city mall that was getting renovated. This last time, I woke up chained to a different chair in the expressway facing oncoming traffic. That made the news. No one knew how I got there. No one saw anything. The street cameras were as useless as the people the police interviewed. Each time he frees me it gets more elaborate. This time, I don’t struggle or exhaust myself trying to imagine an escape. No. This time, I should start looking for patterns and motives. Who would do this to me? Who hates me so much to have me kidnapped once a month? I don’t make many enemies as a data analyst. I’ve worked on some high-profile cases recently, but no one gives credit to the data analyst who tracks the numbers and bank accounts of the bad guys. All the credit goes to the men in black or the blue windbreakers. He never asks for any information from me. This can’t be from work. 

“Not again,” I think as my heart quickens its pace. 

I feel him before I hear him. He walks back towards me. This time another sound accompanies him, a light yet sharp resonance. It is chow time. He sits the food down in front of me and removes the blindfold. It’s dark, with just a stream of light peeking through, reminiscent of those through a pinhole camera, to illuminate the cold plate in front of me. As I glance over my plate, his gaze brooding over me at a distance, I wonder how he could even see in the dark. He could go one living in the shadows, feasting on girls shopping at Kroger, dragging his spoils back to his layer. 

My inner thoughts are running wild at this point.

“Ok, focus on what you know, Lola,” I think. 

I don’t personally know any creeps who would keep doing this to me. I stopped dating entirely after the first time this happened. After the second time, I was scared to leave my house, so I had a therapist and a psychoanalyst come to my house three times a week to walk me through what happened and get me acclimated to going outside again. They claimed I wasn’t a true agoraphobe, I just had severe PTSD. The third time it happened, a bunch of shitty kids heard about my story and decided to go on social media and talk about how I was probably staging my kidnappings. The videos went viral. The police started coming by less and less and brushing off my case. I was no longer a priority but a possible psych case. I started thinking that maybe I was going crazy and perhaps I was staging these kidnappings, blacking out, and forgetting my elaborate plans for attention. I was enrolled in group therapy and started focusing on healing. After that, I started going out with the new friends I met in group therapy. I even managed to bump into the most thoughtful man on earth. 

“Shit, is Max looking for me? Has he called me? Did he go by the house?” my thoughts spiraling. 

“You should know that I’m on my period and I need to change my feminine products. Folks don’t think about that when they are kidnapping women. At least, I don’t think they do. You never really see it in the movies. No action movie that I have ever seen had a girl kidnapped in the thick of her menstrual cycle. You should call Paramount about that and show ‘em how it’s done. Representation and all that. Justice for the vaginas. Hashtag: me too, my period is not taboo!” I rambled. 

I do that when I’m nervous. I do that when there’s nothing else to do. Maybe it’s because I fear silence. I wonder if the last thing I’ll hear is nothing at all. I take another teaspoon of spam and throw it into my mouth, attempting to swallow it instead of chewing. I feel around for the glass of water he always puts beside the beef, being careful not to knock it over. Once I find it, I chug it down. It would be the last bit of water I’ll have until it’s time to eat again. He walks back to me and takes away the tray with the water and the plate of barely-eaten Spam. I try to look around as much as possible before he places the blindfold back over my eyes. I feel around for any loose object on the ground with my feet, hoping to find something that I could use to get me out of the zip ties he will place back around my wrists. I try to wiggle my way out of the ties around my ankles in a last-ditch effort. I give it the good old college try for tradition’s sake and then give up as his footsteps return. I wonder if he just saw all of that. I wonder if he was looking right at me.

He is back right in front of me now, and there is a pause for a moment, almost as if he is deciding on something. A moment later, he places the blindfold back over my eyes and lifts me out of the chair in one swift motion. We are closer now. And there it is again—Musk, sweat, and …sandalwood. I hold onto that as we walk about twenty paces and then turn a corner. Within five more paces, we come to a door. He opens it and sits me on what feels like a toilet. The lights are dimmed and he places a thin, square object in my left hand and a couple of thinner, tubular objects in my right hand. Wait, are these…are these feminine products? Had he granted a request? That was a …first. 

“I’m going to need to see or else there'll be blood everywhere. I would hate for that to happen, especially given what happened last time. We don’t have the greatest track record with bodily fluids,” I jest.  

There was a pause. A hare longer than the one before I was carried over here. He was contemplating again. The door slammed in my face when the blindfold was finally lifted, and the surrounding light dimmed significantly. I could tell that he was directly behind the door. He was probably watching, who knows, but I peed and changed. I feel clean and dry for the first time since waking up to this darkness. I am grateful. I also thought about what I could use to get out of those zip ties he’d place me back in once he noticed I was finished. I’ll shove the other two tampons in my boots for now. I’ll figure out what to do with these later. I knocked on the door to signal that I was done. He opens the door and carries me back to the chair. Once at the chair, he places my hands behind my back and zip-ties them. He ties the blindfold lightly over my eyes and places what appears to be extra water by my side before walking out of the vicinity. 

“Being extra nice to me, Sandalwood,” I taunt. “Must be the period thing.”

PART 2

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2022: 22-Forgive

Marinette and Damian were trapped in a snowy place by Mr. Freeze. Damian looked around.

'We were knocked out while we were heading from the café. They took me out first. Marinette seemed scared. We're somewhere that is long and rectangular. It's cold so maybe a cold storage container.'

The place was steadily growing colder. Damian brought Marinette closer to his body as she began to shiver from the cold. When she began to shake, the Wayne heir quickly shrugged off his jacket and helped her put it on, to warm up. When Mr. Freeze passed by, he didn't expect to see the Wayne boy cradling the girl. She was still and her lips were beginning to take on a shade of blue. The Wayne heir was holding her close and sobbing.

"Please, wake up Angel." Damian cried, "Please."

Victor looked at the scene before him and saw himself with his wife, Nora Fries. He quickly stopped the snow. Damian looked up and saw Freeze had opened the door. He glared at the rouge and pulled Marinette closer to him.

"I'm sorry." He spoke, "Please, get her somewhere warm."

Damian quickly stood up, with her, and walked towards the door. Before he move anywhere, the bats entered the warehouse.

"She needs medical attention." Mr. Freeze spoke up, immediately, "I'll go with you; I won't run."

Batman looked at his son's girlfriend. Her lips were blueish and Damian had tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Give her to me." he demanded.

The Dark Knight quickly took off his cape and wrapped her in it. He clicked a button on the inside and activated a heating mechanism. Damian didn't move anywhere as Red Hood placed cuffs on Dr. Victor Fries and called in a transfer to Arkham. His eyes never left Marinette.

"What happened?" Batman asked, looking into Freeze's cell.

"I was only holding them with some snow." Freeze declared, "When I saw the Wayne boy asking her to wake up, it reminded me of my wife. She was his priority. I didn't mean to hurt them, to hurt her. Please, let me know if she's okay."

Bruce watched on as Damian never left Marinette's side. Once she was warm enough, Tikki emerged from slumbering in Marinette's coat pocket.

"I'm sure I come off as a bit of a shcok, but this is an emergency!" Tikki exclaimed, "She needs a lot more heat and blankets to warm up. If not, she will go into hibernation until it is warm enough to shake her out of it. The longest one of my chosen has slept is four months."

Damian quickly rushed upstairs to grab all of the blankets he had available. Tikki few after him, filling him in more about Marinette's hibernation status. Bruce left Alfred in charge of her health and went back to Arkham Asylum.

"Freeze." Batman called out.

"How is she?" Victor asked.

"She had an underlying condition." the dark knight explained, "If that girl gets too cold, she faints and her blood circulation slows down. Almost like a hibernation status. She has woken up already once. They are covering her with heating blankets to help her recuperate."

"I'm sorry." Victor whisper.

'I'll never harm that girl again.'

Marinette blinked her eyes open.

"You're awake." Batman stated, "Dr. Freeze has been apprehended. He has apologized for holding you in such conditions. He immediatley gave himself over to GCPD and asked for you to be looked after."

Marinette smiled, softly, "When I'm better, can I go see him?"

"Absolutely not!" Damian growled, "You're not getting anywhere near him!"

"He's already locked away." Mari replied, "I wouldn't be going into the cell with him."

"He hurt you." Damian declared.

"He said he set you both free when he realized something was wrong with her." Bruce interrupted, earning his son's wrath.

"Exactly." Mari yawned, "He could have kept us in there and I could have died. He didn't want that. He realized he made a mistake."

"I don't like this, Habibiti." Damian stated.

Marinette just smiled at him.

Freeze was shocked to see the girl from before, in front of his cell.

"I'm sorry!" he shouted, "I was only going to hold you temporarily. I didn't think you would be harmed."

"Thank you for letting us go when you saw I needed help." Marinette spoke, "I don't think any other rouge would have done."

"You remind me of my wife." Dr. Freeze admitted, "She suffers from a incurable condition."

Marinette smiles, "I forgive you. I know you are a good person. You've just made some bad choices, but you are tryign to help your wife."

Freeze stared at her as she walked away. He felt his tears harden on his cheeks.

'When I get out of here, I vow, she'll never be in harms way next time.'

TAG LIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

[extrathicccarlwheezer]

Here's my third build in tiny glade. Not entirely sure what to call it, but it's a castle & accompanying town in a snowy northern environment. as always, more pics after the cut :)

with this build, i was going for a squat but imposing vibe, as well as making the buildings feel fit for a cold northern envivonment. almost every building has a fireplace in it to stay warm, and nothing is so far apart that you can't make it somewhere warm quickly. there are heated stables outside the gate, as well as a space to park wagons. there's a small gatehouse at the entrance to the town, where a couple guards would be stationed (complete with double sets of heavy doors w/ murder holes lining the room between)

just inside the gatehouse is the tavern/inn. it has a ground floor with seating & food, a second floor with a couple private rooms for rent (as well as a balcony), and beds in the attic if you can't afford a whole room to yourself (which would have been a luxury). the inn would own/operate the stables, so guests could keep their horses warm.

to the left of the inn is a small farmhouse, a warehouse for long term storage, and a watchtower. the only livestock in the game are sheep, but i think they'd keep a couple goats as well.

up a slight incline we come to the town square. this features a general store, a well, the entrance to the castle, and a lodge for the local blacksmith (as well as a small shed for her supplies). my canon is that the blacksmith is married to the woman who owns/operates the general store, so they both live on the second floor of that building.

finally we come to the castle itself, starting with a bridge to the gatehouse.

the gatehouse itself would contain housing for soldiers on multiple levels. to the left is the guest lodge, which would have living quarters on the first floor, a suite for visiting nobles on the second, and some servant's quarters in the attic

there is a small stables in the courtyard (for the baron's horses), and across from the gatehouse is the keep. the keep has 3 main floors, a spiral staircase located in the central tower, and a private toilet. the lowest level would be storage & servant's quarters. the second level has administrative/planning rooms on one side, and the kitchen (and cook's quarters) on the other. the third floor has the grand hall (facing out towards the setting sun), and the baron's quarters. there is a castle tower, which overlooks the road passing by the town. the castle also has a sally port, allowing for the stealthy deployment of messengers or even soldiers (without going through the whole town).

so yeah, that's the town! i've also included a picture of the town during the summer, and a map. once again the map isn't amazing (still no idea how to use photoshop), but it gets the point across

honestly this one might still be my favorite build. it's playing to the strengths of this game and to what i'm best at in the game, which is small town vibes. i have the whole layout of this place in my head, including p much every building. i feel like i'm designing these to feel like they could function and exist as towns, over designing them to look good on camera. like, didn't talk about EVERYTHING i put in this build; there are outhouses dotted all over the town & castle and countless details i built but didn't bother to get a picture of. but those are details to make it feel more alive, rather than stuff i put solely to photograph well. and well, i built these because they're fun; i found adding those details to be fun so i added them. i'm enjoying writing out these little walkthroughs of my town, so i think i'll keep it up :)

[samwpmarleau]

fic: around the shadows creep

whumptober day 8: sleep deprivation masterlist: tumblr, ao3 Daisy is captured by the Watchdogs after her quake in the storage facility isn’t as effective as she’d hoped.

All my power and training, and I still get kidnapped by these scumbags. Can I ever catch a goddamn break?

Is what goes through Daisy’s mind in various iterations as she slowly, groggily wakes. It’s little more than a blur how she got from investigating with Simmons to this. James’s betrayal, she remembers that, she remembers her arms breaking with the force of sending the Watchdogs to their knees, and she remembers the Watchdogs knocking out Simmons and discussing whether to leave her behind. Simmons isn’t Inhuman so her value is minimal, but she also is Daisy’s friend so perhaps she could be used as leverage, or so they argue amongst themselves.

But the in-betweens, what their decision was on Simmons, and what happens after she’s tased into unconsciousness, that she doesn’t know. None of it really matters, though. What matters is that she’s being dragged across gravel coarse enough to dig into her skin and wedge in her suit, then across a threshold onto frigid concrete. A warehouse, she guesses. She’s kind of offended at the predictability. Bigotry really has rotted their brains.

Then she’s abruptly yanked upwards into a cold metal chair and chained. Their shortsightedness is almost impressive. She can easily break out of the restraints with minimal power usage.

That is, if it weren’t for some sort of bracelets they slap on her wrists. As soon as the ends snap together, she discovers that her powers have been neutralized. Not so much as a tremor, let alone enough of a quake to get herself free.

Which sets her heart to racing. She’s a more than competent agent, but she’s not a super soldier, or even a gym nut like Mack. She can’t break through chains. Worst of all, no one knows she’s here. Even if the Watchdogs had fallen on the side of leaving Simmons behind, who knows how long it’d be before she woke up? And after that, how long it’d be until the team could figure out where Daisy is? Daisy doesn’t even know where she is. Her only solace is that she knows they will come for her. Regardless of how far she’s pushed them away, how much damage she’s done, they will come for her.

It’s just a matter of how quickly they can zero in on her location, and if she’ll be alive by the time they do.

“What do you want?” Daisy slurs. Her head feels like it’s filled with lead.

“What do we want? The extermination of your kind,” answers the man she decides to call One. His voice is slightly muffled. He’s probably hid behind one of the group’s ridiculous masks. Coward.

“Yeah, I get that part, dipshit. You guys are one-issue terrorists. What’s with the kidnapping? Why not ‘exterminate’ me?”

“Because we need information about where the rest of you are.”

“And because we want to have some fun,” chimes in another voice, Two.

“That, too,” says One. “We need to find the most effective means of making you talk.”

Great. Just great.

“Torture?” Daisy clarifies. “You want to torture me.”

“Or you can come clean right now. Tell us where you rats like to hide.”

“You guys hacked S.H.I.E.L.D.’s servers. Don’t you already have that information?”

“They changed the encryption. We can’t get in.”

Daisy lets out a laugh that echoes through the warehouse. “So you really were dumb enough to let Simmons go? Wow, you’re bigger idiots than I thought.”

One backhands her across the face. “We got you, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, unlucky for you,” says Daisy. She spits out a mouthful of blood. “I won’t tell you a damn thing.”

One sighs. “Don’t say we didn’t give you a chance to do this the easy way.”

———

Daisy’s made to wait so long that her legs begin to cramp from being forced into the same position. Her wrists chafe from trying to wriggle free. Her arms send constant shockwaves of pain through her body that it takes all the willpower she possesses not to cry. It’s part of their plan, of that she’s certain. They believe if she’s in enough pain and discomfort, she’ll give in. No doubt they’ll next offer some analgesics to dull it.

Well, joke’s on them. The last six months have been hell. There’s nothing they can do that’s worse than that.

———

They do their best, though. She gets both the carrot and the stick, questions and interrogation, bonds loosened for the session then tightened again once it concludes.

Still, she gives them nothing. Her silence is all that keeps the Watchdogs from siccing themselves on her fellow Inhumans, and she’s not about to allow that to happen.

———

She’s not sure how long they keep her in the chair. Another tactic, she assumes, depriving her of the time. They’re not entirely off on that; it’s unnerving to be in a room lit only by the lights overhead, neither windows nor clocks, not even a five o’clock shadow on her interrogators that could give her a clue.

Her silence is incredibly frustrating for them, she’s delighted to note; after several sessions, they remove her bonds entirely and frog-march her into a cell. It has a cot with the thinnest mattress she’s ever seen, a toilet, a conspicuously mounted camera, and nothing else. No clock, no distractions, no utensil with which she could try to Shawshank her way out. No painkiller, either, or even a roll of gauze to wrap her arms in. She wonders if she’ll be in this place for so long that once she’s rescued her bones will have to be re-broken in order to put them back together again. If they can be put back together again. She has no idea what kind of damage was done by her quake, nor what further damage was done by being tied to the chair.

No use dwelling on it. She’ll learn the extent eventually.

———

She does learn something in the interim — the Watchdogs’ next tactic. As she’s lying on her bed attempting to ignore the slight, irregular flickering of the bulb overhead in order to get some rest, music is suddenly piped into her cell. Not just music, loud music. Some sort of screamo, although she can’t place the artist. Maybe there isn’t an artist at all and they simply threw a bunch of sounds together. Either way, it’s deafening.

Her efforts to tune it out fail, as do her efforts to find some sort of pattern she can count. Best she can tell, it’s the same few bars repeated over and over and over again. She ponders the efficacy of this plan. How long until her hearing gets affected and she can’t even hear their questions? Or would hearing loss be a feature, not a bug?

Sleep, needless to say, is hard to come by.

———

They give up on the music after a few more sessions, for now. She’s tired enough to think that they might give her a short break.

They do not.

She celebrates the quiet up until she feels the temperature in her cell drop, and drop some more. Her suit helps at first, but it’s short-lived. While her sleeves and pants provide full coverage, they’re not insulated, built for movement and durability rather than warmth.

The cold does have one unintended benefit: Her arms go numb, which serves to finally lessen the pain.

She curls up onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest and ducking into her jacket to futilely utilize her body heat. A flaming head would be pretty useful right about now.

———

“Not getting enough sleep?” laughs Two.

She’s come to actually enjoy the sessions, for the interrogation room they bring her into is heated. Thawing out is uncomfortable, but is nonetheless a welcome relief. She has yet to develop any frostbite, which is nice. The temperature isn’t quite cold enough. Barely.

“You know I’m not,” Daisy replies. She tries her best to keep her voice even, clenching her jaw to prevent her teeth from chattering.

“You’ve lasted longer than some expected, but we’ve got time. You’ll beg for mercy eventually.”

Daisy leans back in her chair to get some more blood flow going. “You don’t know me very well. I don’t care how cold or loud you make my cell, I’m not going to talk.”

“We’ll see.”

“Okay, say I do break. Then what, you’ll kill me? What’s your endgame here?”

“We might kill you, yeah. We might not. That all depends on if you have any other uses.”

“Uses like what?”

“Whatever we want.” Two gives her a vacant smile. “Or whoever.”

———

Tactic Number Three is light.

She doesn’t think much of it at first. She’d gotten used to the flickering a while ago, and has learned to mostly dissociate from the cold and the music, which the Watchdogs decide to return to. But at least with their previous tactics they’d turn the light off for hours at a time.

No longer is that the case. The light remains on, bright and flickering and faintly buzzing. What she wouldn’t give to have her powers again. She could explode the bulb and finally get some darkness. But she doesn’t have them, the bracelets as tight as ever around her wrists.

———

When Daisy hears the banging and the screaming, she ignores it. Her brain has been sluggish for a while now, for one, and for two, she assumes it’s more of the same. Music, screams, what’s the difference? She hasn’t told the Watchdogs a thing, so they must be graduating to a new method.

When the door slams open, she prepares herself for another round of questioning. It’s hard to tell exactly how many interrogators she has, for they all wear masks and come in cycles, but from their voices, she’s pretty sure there are four. She wonders who it’ll be today.

Whatever. It’s irrelevant, because she will not break. She will not break. She will not break. She will not —

“Robbie?” Even as she says his name, she doesn’t entirely trust that he’s not a hallucination. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, and his face swims in front of her, unclear.

Well, not his face. Ghost Rider, more specifically, is what swims in front of her, fire spitting and raging from the cracks in his skull. When had her life gotten so weird that seeing a flaming skeleton would make her feel happy?

“Are you actually here?” she asks.

Ghost Rider merely tilts his head.

“Let me talk to Robbie. Now.”

She knows full well she sounds pathetic rather than commanding, but Ghost Rider obliges anyway. She watches as the fire extinguishes and skin and muscle grow in its place to reassemble Robbie Reyes.

“I’m here,” he confirms.

She feels tears well in her eyes. At long last, someone is here to save her. “Please tell me you took all of those guys out.”

“Yeah. Coulson’s probably cuffing them as we speak.”

“Coulson? Why the hell are you with Coulson?”

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Can you walk?”

Daisy nods and gets to her feet. At which point she promptly stumbles as the room spins, her lack of peace and sleep messing with her equilibrium. She manages to catch herself on the wall with a hiss as the concrete sends a shot of pain through her arms.

“Guess that’s a no. Come on.”

Robbie loops an arm around her waist to take most of her weight. Normally, she’d tell him to stuff it, that she’ll manage on her own. But her body is beat up more than it ever has been, her brain is fuzzy, she’s tired, and the only thing more mortifying than leaning on Robbie would be for him to have to carry her out, so she allows the help. Just this once.

“How did you find me?” she asks.

“Team effort.” He sounds irritated at that, not that she’s surprised. If there’s anyone listed in the dictionary under “loner,” it’s him. “Simmons mainly. She knew where you guys were separated and had some guesses on where they might take you from there. Fitz did some algorithm thing, Coulson came up with the gameplan. Mack’s cleaning up any Watchdogs I missed.”

Sounds about right. “They’re a well-oiled machine.”

“More than can be said for you. You look like a train wreck.”

“Gee, thanks. You win Biggest Flirt in high school?”

“Didn’t graduate. So no.”

“That was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh, like you have room to judge?”

She doesn’t, really. She didn’t graduate either. Still, “At least I don’t murder people.”

“That again?”

“Yeah, that again. Murder isn’t — it —” Words fail her as she devolves into a coughing fit. Apparently the cold and dirty cell hadn’t done her lungs any favors.

Robbie stops walking, and once the fit finally subsides, he asks quietly, “What’d they do to you?”

“The usual,” she grimaces. “Torture, threats. Creativity isn’t the Watchdogs’ strong suit.”

“Torture?”

“Some restraints here, deprivation there. Some unspecified ‘whatever we want.’ Never got around to that part, though.” She looks up at him and bats her eyelashes. “My knight in shining armor showed up.”

Robbie is not amused. “Is you making this all into a joke supposed to be for my benefit or yours?”

“It’s not for anyone’s benefit.”

“Still set on that death wish, then?”

“If you’re looking for a thank-you, don’t. I didn’t ask you to rescue me.”

“Holding on pretty tight for someone who doesn’t want help.”

Daisy looks down to see her hands clenched in his jacket. She hadn’t noticed. Immediately, she lets go and attempts to walk on her own, but gets only so far as to straighten before getting lightheaded as the ground sways beneath her feet. Robbie’s continued grip on her waist is all that keeps her from toppling over.

“I don’t want your help,” she says, frustrated that her body won’t comply.

“Well, tough shit.”

“Okay, so get me out of this building, but you don’t need to bring me back to S.H.I.E.L.D. You don’t need to go back to them either. Just disappear.”

“I told you, I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“There’s this book. It’s dangerous and it needs to be destroyed. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s going to help me do that.”

“A book? You can’t find that yourself?”

“I could. It’d just take longer.”

“And rescuing me, how’s that part of a search for a book?”

“It’s not. You’re a detour. The sooner I get you to them, the sooner I can get what I came for.”

Daisy grits her teeth, knowing there’s no convincing him now. He’s singleminded, and even if Robbie were inclined to agree to her proposition, she doubts Ghost Rider would. Forcefully escaping is not an option. The power-dampening bracelets remain affixed to her wrists, and if she can’t even stand by herself, she’d be beaten in a fight against him quicker than she was the first time.

“These people care about you, Daisy. You should let them help.”

“Don’t preach at me,” she snaps. “You of all people.”

“Fine. I’ll deliver you then we’re done.”

“Great.”

As promised, as soon as they make it onto the Zephyr and she’s remanded into Simmons’s custody, Robbie strides off in a huff. Or maybe not in a huff, she can’t really tell. He’s just like that. She decides Most Moody would be his senior superlative, if he had one. She’s not sure the man even knows how to smile.

He used to, though. The handful of photos she’d seen in the Reyes home from before Robbie made his deal with the devil proved as much. It’s a shame he doesn’t smile anymore, she thinks. He had a nice one.

[kingofthewebxxx]

Continued from here!

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk at which he sat, it was very much out of place inside an old abandoned cold storage warehouse but he had demanded one so he had got one. No one knew he was there unless he wanted them to, such was his way, he had played with the iceman much of late and sent a few distractions his way, much more than usual, to keep him occupied whilst he played games with his brother. As much as he loved playing with them both, Sherlock and Gemini were still his favourites, especially Gemini, he saw much potential for pain and chaos and wanted to stretch it out of him, with the right pushing it was possible that Gemini would destroy his poor brother's cold heart, now that would be a sight Jim wanted to see.

Hearing incoming footsteps he didn't look up, he said in a deadpan voice “You’re late, though I suppose you must have got sidetracked, pets are so demanding, aren't they? That's why I never keep mine for long” he said looking up with an evil grin before slowly getting up, exaggerating every movement as he stood toe to toe with Sherlock’s secret that even he didn't seem to know about. “A little birdy told me you wanted to have some fun, although I have to ask, just what would you be willing to do? For example, if I told you I had one of your brother's agents tied up in the back, would you deal with them for me? I could reward you for being a good boy, or are you going to leave? And go back to pretending that your one of the angels, Sherlock may me good but you are not, no, you are like me” he said getting right up in his face with excited eyes. Taking a few steps back his face turned cold and stern, he said “So what's it gonna be, mean G.”

@deathtransformed