#GUY AT THE BACK ALLEY TALKING ABOUT HIS SISTER BEING SICK DUDE IS THAT HIM.

[one-blaze-of--glory]

DUDE IS THAT MICAH???

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Just a Normal Guy (Part 1)

Fandom: DC, Peacemaker, Adrian Chase, Vigilante

Word Count: 952

TW: Language

Note: Reader is Peacemaker's sister

“Come on! Don’t go on this date!” Chris grumbled from the couch as you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup.

“Why?” You called out.

“You know why.”

You poked your head out of the bathroom to glare at your brother. “Say it. I want you to say it.”

Chris leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. “The dude’s a loser! And he’s weird. Why’d you want to go out with him in the first place?”

“Because he’s normal. He’s uncomplicated. He’s not one of us.” You walk into the living room, scratching Eagly’s head as you pass him sitting on the kitchen counter. “I’m sick of screwing around with all these asshole superheroes who think they’re hot shit just because they can run really fast or fly. It’s like, big deal, you have a superpower. Anyone who had that could go out and do the same thing you do. But people like you and me who don’t have anything special and still go out there to bring peace, we’re the real heroes! That’s why I dated Batman for so long. He’s just a guy in a mask doing what’s right, like us. No special powers needed.”

Chris shook his head. “You really need to rethink your taste in guys, sis. Batman’s a jackass and a wimp. He needs to finally grow a pair and just start killing those maniacs running around Gotham.”

“Yeah, well, we disagreed on some of the finer points of hero work, but everyone has their differences. But now for once, I want to try being with someone who isn’t a superhero. Who’s just a normal guy going about his life doing normal things.” You grabbed your purse off the table. “So, how do I look?”

Your brother gave you a once over. “Way better than he deserves. Once again, I don’t even know why you’re trying. The dude’s been obsessed with you since the two of you were in high school. You could wear dad’s full body armor and he’d still probably nut just at the sight of you.”

“Chris! Come on. Try to be mature about this, please. Or if that’s too much for you, then just shut the fuck up.”

There was a knock at the trailer door. Walking over, you opened it to see Adrian standing on the other side holding a handful of flowers. They looked like he just yanked them out of your neighbor’s yard (dirt still clung to their dangling roots), but you guessed it was the thought that counted.

He took one look at you in your low-cut, short dress and his mouth fell open as he tried to stammer a greeting.

You smiled, charmed at his awkwardness. “Hi, Adrian. Are those for me?”

He nodded and thrust the flowers into your hand. Chuckling softly, you turned to place them in a glass of water. Chris walked up to the still opened door and crossed his arms as he glared down at Adrian. The younger man blanched. “Oh, he-hey Chris. I didn’t know you would be here.”

“I live here.” He growled.

“R-Right. Ye-yeah, of course. I knew that.” Adrian normally worshiped the ground Chris walked on so it was kind of cute to see him so flustered around him now that he was about to take you out on a date.

Walking back to the two of them, you smacked Chris on the chest. “What did I say? Behave!” He grunted before stalking back over to the couch. You turned back to Adrian. “You ready to go?”

The night had flown by. Adrian had taken you to the bowling alley, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you put on this dress, but you both had a great time. He was so goofy and awkward that you couldn’t keep a smile off your face the entire time. And his stupid victory dance when he finally managed to get a strike, left your sides hurting from laughing.

Then the two of you had grabbed some hot dogs and went for a walk. You talked about high school, both of your families, your plans for the future and it was all just so easy. There were none of the complications that came with secret identities or rushing off to help someone in danger. There was no ego or arrogance that all the superheroes you dated seemed to have. He was just sweet and cute, and you couldn’t believe you were starting to feel something for Adrian Chase after all these years!

As he walked you to the front door of your trailer, you smiled. “I had a really great time tonight. I don’t usually date…. normal guys like you but honestly, this went better than I expected. I hope we can do this again, soon.”

Adrian nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely! Whenever you want! How about tomorrow?”

You chuckled, “Tomorrow sounds great.”

Both of you just stood there awkwardly for a moment. You could see on his face he wanted to make a move, but he was too nervous. So, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a long kiss. When you pulled back, you grinned when you saw his glasses had fogged up slightly. You slid them off his face and began to lift up the bottom of his shirt to wipe them off for him when you noticed something. You lifted his shirt up higher.

He realized what was happening and cried out, “No, no, no, wait!” But it was too late. Underneath his shirt, you saw the familiar blue, black, and white costume that had been plastered all over the news the last few months. Which meant Adrian was Vigilante….another superhero.

"Fuck."

Part 2 and 3 coming soon!

[darkorderaf]

Can I request kiss prompt 16 with mjf set when the inner circle was in Vegas?

Oh, this is a very fun idea. This is a nice little cocktail of shitlord!Max and soft!Max. I took some creative liberties with their time in Vegas. Thank you so much for sending, I hope you like it!! <3

Pairing: MJF x OFC. Prompts: A kiss that isn’t meant to happen but it does anyway. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: Angst and fluff! Some drinking. Word Count: 2,633.

(I don’t own gif; credit to cowboyshit!)

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Believe it.”

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“Like, a lot. I deadass hate the dude.”

“I know, Sammy.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh and set her hands against the bartop. From the first proposal of the Inner Circle going to Vegas, Sammy complained. It hadn’t gotten any better now that they were actually in the city. The situation wasn’t great but it was what Jericho wanted and which of them was going to tell them no? At least Wardlow seemed decent enough. He didn’t talk much and hell, that was all she could ask for. She could use less talking lately.

“Sammy, he’s not going anywhere,” she said. Her hand curled tight around her glass. “We might as well just enjoy what we can, alright?”

Sammy frowned and folded his arms as he leaned against the table. Her words seemed to help for the time being. Satisfied that they had, she threw her drink back and rubbed at her temples. They had been away from the table too long and she could already feel her phone vibrating. She clapped Sammy reassuringly on the back and the two made their way back to the blackjack table.

“C’mon, Spanish God. It’s just one night. We’ll be fine.”

---

When the boys drank, they drank. Shot after shot after shot. She had to admit that she was impressed. MJF held his own with Jericho but he was feeling it and she could tell. They stayed longer at the place with the dancing girls that she forgot the name of but she didn’t mind that. It gave her some time to think to herself, appreciate the show from afar unbothered.

“You don’t belong here.”

Or not. She mentally prepared herself with a few deep breaths before she turned around. There he was, in his purple pastel suit glory. In MJF’s endeavor to earn the trust of the Inner Circle, he had been persistent with all of them. She tried not to notice that closely behind Jericho, she was the one he seemed to flock to most. The corner of the club she sat in was away from the red light that covered the rest. The fluorescents overhead made it easier to see the warm flush to his face that the booze brough on, the slight shadows under his eyes. She didn’t know where those came from. He leaned against the bar and took a long drink. She eyed him.

Was he getting enough sleep?

Better question, why was she worried about MJF?

Wait, what did he just say?

“Hi,” she said as she idly swirled the straw in her drink. She jutted her chin at the girls. “Care to explain what you mean by that? I think the club’s fine and the girls are putting on a hell of a show. I like it here.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated.

“That’s,” he paused and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t belong here. With the Inner Circle. With them. With Jericho.”

Her eyes flashed and she sat up straight. Narrowed eyes met his and the muscle in his jaw worked. If he was frustrated, she felt it tenfold.

“Oh? And you do?”

“Please, just give me a second and listen to me.”

MJF wasn’t someone that struggled to communicate how he felt or what was on his mind. As far as she knew. Then again, how much did she really know him? She gestured for him to sit in the stool beside her and he took it. He undid the top button of his suit and ran a hand through his hair. He looked borderline unkempt. Vulnerable, even. Her spine softened and she slowly sipped at her drink.

“You’re--” He held onto his drink, sucked in his bottom lip, then ran his tongue along it. “You’re too good for them. I’m up here--obviously--you’re here, and then they’re down there. Do you see what I mean?”

He explained with one hand low and the other above his head. He placed himself higher than her by a slim margin. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he leaned down to really exaggerate it. The backhanded compliment made heat creep up her neck, her face. She didn’t see herself better than the others of the Inner Circle but there were times where she wondered about going on her own. Even just for a little while. She kept to herself more lately, telling the guys it was fine if they didn’t accompany her to her matches. It would make it easier when she did decide to leave.

If she did.

“Wow,” she said, her brows lifted and her tongue pressed up against the sharp edges of her teeth. “You really know how to compliment a girl, Friedman. If you want a show, it’s over there. I’m not doing this with you.”

She turned away, effectively shutting off the conversation. Her spine straightened again and she caged her drink in with her forearms. MJF didn’t move from his spot beside her. Clearly, he had something on his mind. Max dropped his forehead into his hand then straightened himself back up.

“Max.”

“What?”

“Can you call me Max?”

That made her pause, her brows slightly furrowed. His voice was so soft she barely heard it. Jesus, she didn’t know what to make of this man. This infuriating man that insulted every person she knew and yet, could always be found in the audience during her matches. Who always checked on her in his own weird, emotionally bizarre way.

‘At least you didn’t embarrass yourself.’

‘Well, she looks worse but yeesh, that’s not saying much.’

And then the odd, ‘How are you?’ But that one seemed to make him more uncomfortable than any other compliment veiled with an insult. That one seemed genuine, a removal of some mask, and he never stayed long after she fumbled an answer.

She eyed him carefully on the stool beside her.

“Alright, Max,” she said and the sound of his name brought this strange, hopeful look to his face that caught her off guard. She was so used to it in a sneer, a Cheshire grin. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

She jerked her thumb towards the exit and threw back the rest of her strong drink. Although she hadn’t had as much as the boys, she felt warm and bubbly. Even with MJF, Max, at her side as they walked out into the night air, his hand a vague sensation at the small of her back as he let her go first. Her phone vibrated and she checked it.

Sammy G. - lmk if you need help hiding body xoxo

She rolled her eyes and slid her phone back into the pocket of her dress. Max kept a small distance from her as they walked and he did the same when she found somewhere to sit. She hadn’t banked on it being cold. Goosebumps slid up the exposed skin of her arms. Wordlessly, Max offered her his scarf.

“...Thanks,” she said. “What’s all this about, Ma--”

“You don’t like me.”

His statement cut her off and she cocked her head. She played with the ends of his scarf where it draped over her shoulders. It smelled like him and something sweet.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she offered. The conversation hadn’t initially been about them but with the way her brain lingered on it and how his statement didn’t sit well with her, she shifted it further that way. “You’re not the easiest person to be around. At all. Half the time I don’t know if you’re trying to be nice or if you’re just waiting for me to fall.”

“I’ve seen you fall. More than they have, in fact.”

She shot him a look. He wasn’t wrong. Jericho made a big show of how strong the bonds in the Inner Circle were and yet... Guilt knocked at her skull and she ignored it.

“Max,” she got his attention, his warm eyes on her and his knees angled towards her. Part of the reason she wanted to get away from the others was to get some air, that was true. The other part? To see who she was talking to. Max or MJF. “For once, can you just say what you mean and not be a complete dick about it?”

His jaw worked at that and his hands switched which one was on top quite a few times. Worry overtook her when he looked like he might be sick. Or like he was in pain.

“I like you. Alright? Even though I don’t want to and God knows I’ve tried not to, I do. I think about you literally all the time and it’s awful.”

Her shoulders dropped with disappointment and she shook her head with disbelief. He couldn’t just stop while he was ahead.

“Jesus,” she said, her voice a low and bitter sound. She slipped his scarf off and handed it back to him. “That must be so fucking terrible for you. My condolences, MJF.”

He was strangely silent as they walked back but that changed as soon as they were back in the company of the boys. Loudmouth, smug MJF was back and she receded back to the edges. Sammy approached her and demanded to know what happened, Ortiz as well. She kept it simple. They talked, that was all. The two men seemed to accept that that was all she would give them for the time being.

She had too much to think about and not enough drink in her glass.

---

The next pub they went to felt more up her alley and she sat at the end of the bar, away from the pissing contest between the others. Her sour mood had lifted some, thanks to Jameson and the friendly bartender. She could feel Max’s eyes on her but she paid no attention. She wanted to drink, she wanted to take a long bath, and then she wanted to go to bed. Something simple and not at all complicated like what her heart was feeling.

“Seriously, what did he say to you?”

“That’s between us, Ortiz,” she said for the third time to the man beside her. “It’s really not something I want to talk about.”

“Man, you’re holding out on us,” Sammy cut in from her other side. “Did he say something embarrassing? Please tell me it was embarrassing. It was totally embarrassing, right? Give us the dirt, sister.”

In some ways, she supposed it was embarrassing. Her jaw clenched.

“Is the hotel far from here?”

Ortiz blinked at her.

“No, not really, why?”

“I think I’m done for the night,” she said as she slapped a twenty on the bar and pushed back from it. “I’m getting tired.”

The two men seemed shocked and appalled by such a statement.

“Woah, you serious?”

“Mhm,” she vocalized. “You boys have fun, okay?”

“One of us will go with y--”

“I’ll go with her,” Max suddenly said, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered up to the trio. “You two stay here, huh? Keep an eye on the old man over there.”

Ortiz looked at Sammy, who looked at her, who looked at Max. He was too busy staring the other two down to notice how hard she looked at him.

“Fine,” she said carefully. “It won’t take long.”

She rushed out the door and Max was quick to follow her. That hardened expression of his faded and there was Max again, soft and vulnerable and infuriating. Frustrated tears pricked her eyes and she hated it.

“Slow down,” he called to her. “I didn’t say any of that right, alright? That was a shitshow in word form and I can do better than that because, I mean, I’m me. If I fuck it up again, just slap me and we’ll be done with the whole thing.”

He caught up to her in long strides and gently encircled her wrist with one of his hands. She stopped with a harsh breath in and turned back to look at him, her fists clenched at her sides. He let go of her wrist and guided her to the side, away into one of the alleys of Las Vegas. Maybe Max was serious if he was so willing to stand next to garbage.

“I like you,” he tried again as he stood in front of her. “I think about you a lot and when I think about you, I go looking for you. I don’t even know what I’m going to say half the time when I do, alright? I just go and hope for the best. I don’t do that. Any of that. I don’t like people and I don’t hope for the best for...for anything. For anyone. But then there’s you and I do and it’s weird but I don’t hate it and I don’t hate you. That’s the thing! I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

His hands hovered by her shoulders, his eyes imploring her to listen to what he was saying. What was that one line? The one about how wonderful, how strange it was to be liked by something that hates all else? She couldn’t wrap her head around it but she knew she wasn’t angry anymore. Bewildered and breathless and taken aback and unquestionably warm. That’s what she was. Her silence compelled him to step away and she reached out for him. Giggling grew louder on the sidewalk outside the alleyway. They stared at each other, both waiting for something to happen.

“Max, I don’t know…”

She trailed and it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what to say. Anything she could have said was silenced by Max’s lips on hers, his hands on the wall to brace himself. She leaned up into him, her eyes on his and both just as confused. A giggling couple disappeared down the alley and they must have knocked against Max. His hands dropped from the wall to her shoulders and when he went to pull away, she slipped her arms around him and pulled him in. Their stagnant lips began to move and she could taste what it was that smelled so sweet. He could taste the burn of Jameson on her tongue. Their eyes fell shut and they dove into each other.

The tentative way he kissed her melted like sugar to absinthe. His tongue met hers, her teeth nipped at his lips. Not enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist then finally they came to a stop at her hips. He kissed her hard and she met him on even ground, her fingers curled in tight against his broad back. A sound of disgust from him broke them apart and that scowl of his was back on his face. He breathed hard against the skin of her neck.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a borderline growl as he lifted his head and stared down the alley. “We are not making out in a filthy, scum-filled alleyway. I get that this is Vegas and it’s the bottom of the barrel but there is still a thing called standards.”

His hand slid into hers to lead her away and after a second, she laced her fingers with his. She didn’t know what they were or where the hell they would be when the weekend was over and they left this moment. They could figure it out. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and smiled at her. Not a shit-eating one, not a standing-over-your-fallen-enemy one. It was just a simple one, meant for her, and it made her hope that it wasn’t true what they said about Las Vegas. Just this once.

[trashcankitty12]

Prince Sky Headcanons

He’s Prince Charming. The Golden Boy. The Hero we all need.

(I’m trying so hard to not be sarcastic dudes...)

Meet Prince Sky Grant of Eraklyon, The Future King. (Probably. We’ll see.)

(All of these are headcanons based on my main fics... But if you like them, by all means, borrow them. He’s so bland.)

-Prince Sky doesn’t exactly have a… Typical princely story. At least, not with how he came to be born. (There was no sweet prince fell in love with a princess story. His parents were arranged to be married… And found a little late that there was something they couldn’t do as rulers…)

-So they hatched a plan with Samara’s willing older sister… A secret surrogacy. (Sky is Erendor’s son… Just not Samara’s. Well, not biologically anyway.)

-But to keep up appearances and to keep others from finding out, Samara faked being pregnant so that no one would no any differently. (Even with his blonde locks, she could just say he inherited it from his grandmother… Which wouldn’t be a complete lie. Her mother was a blonde.)

-Sky grew up pretty sheltered, not allowed to leave the castle grounds until he was enrolled into Eraklyon’s Preparatory School. (Alongside Diaspro and her older brother.)

-He had a few other ‘chosen’ playmates, mainly children of nobility and his older cousin Thoren. But the only friend he was truly close too was Brandon.

-(That friendship was actually an accident. Brandon’s mother is one of Samara’s guards and his father works the main stables.)

-(Young Sky, about 8-ish, had went to check out the stables by himself because he was so sure he could do anything his guards could. He ended up running into Brandon who basically showed him how to saddle a horse and how to make friends with them, not really knowing that Sky was Prince Sky.)

-(Erendor was upset that Sky had left his lessons, but had been impressed that he and Brandon worked so well together and seemed to genuinely enjoy each other’s company. So with Brandon’s parents’ blessing, he made Brandon Sky’s squire and personal body guard. Putting him into school with Sky and putting him to training.)

-Sky really does enjoy horseback riding, something he seldom gets to do after he starts to really dig into his prince and warrior training. But whenever he’s home, he does try to take his favorite horse for a ride. (Her name is Delma, after his favorite childhood movie hero.)

-He’s fluent in about 13 languages and conversational in 2 others. (He really enjoys speaking Solarian. It makes him feel a bit more, airy and relaxed.)

-Yes, he’s trained in most traditional dances. No, he doesn’t enjoy it. (Yes, it does have a bit to do with Riven’s shit-talking.)

-Sky and Diaspro actually used to be friends as kids. They knew they were arranged to be married, but it didn’t really matter to them at first. That all changed when Diaspro left for a summer with her mother and came back… Very different. (Sky did worry about her, but he had his own issues to deal with.)

-Those people who came after Layla on Andros and who threatened Radius and Luna about Stella? The leftover Ancestral Coven members? Yeah, they sort of started targeting Sky after he turned twelve.

-He and his older cousin Thoren were having one of their adventures away from the palace, (something Thoren hated to do because he hated seeing his uncle pissed off, but Sky couldn’t be allowed to just run off like that).

-Two elementals showed up and started to attack the boys. Thoren’s weapon wasn’t much of a match and Sky was just starting to really get into training. They were nearly killed.

-In fact, if it hadn’t been for Thoren’s quick thinking with a smoke bomb, he and Sky would have died. He told Erendor about it, and that put Sky on lockdown. (He still blames Thoren for that, even though he now realizes as an adult that he would have been no match for a Coven trained assassin.)

-This was when he got Lady from Samara. Normally she hated having animals around inside the castle, they’re so messy you know, but for her son’s sake… She felt he needed a hound that could protect him. That was Lady.

-(Which is why Lady went to Red Fountain that first year with Sky and Brandon… And why Brandon and Sky had their switch.)

-(Honestly though, Red Fountain almost didn’t happen for Sky. He had to beg and reason with Erendor for two years straight before he and Brandon could go.)

-(His reasonings? “Think about it, Dad, I’ll learn different survival skills. I’ll learn combat, about different weapons and vehicles. I’ll learn how to be an effective leader with others from different realms. And I’ll be able to learn first-hand about other cultures, which could come in handy during diplomatic situations. And I’ll learn a bit how to take of myself, which is something we all need to learn, right?”)

-He got to go, but Saladin and his teachers were instructed to keep an eye on Sky and to send progress reports back to Erendor. (Any missteps, and he was supposed to be sent home.)

-Sky thrived at Red Fountain. He managed to make friends with people other than Brandon. (Not that he doesn’t love Brandon, but sometimes he needs other people’s opinions… Not someone who sort of follows him into the depths.)

-Timmy was one of the first friends he made. The two really bonded over the weaponry tech Red Fountain had and different tactical plans. (And Timmy introduced him to video games… Which was so much more fun than he had imagined them being. He loves co-op games the most, and has a thing for RimSky, an rpg game that lets him be a real hero.)

-Riven was… Challenging. It was great having someone who could actually (and would at every step) challenge Sky and his approach to situations. He really made Sky have to think things through and up his game when it came to training. (And Riven may have been the one to introduce extreme sports… And old fashioned’ alley fighting. And they both have a thing for their dragons and levibikes. You just have to get passed the surliness.)

-When Helia joined, Sky was unsure how he’d fit into the group. But he knows without a doubt Helia has their back. (And if Helia gives the best romantic advice? Who has to know…?)

-Nabu helped Sky learn to challenge his own teachings. Nabu, a prince like Sky, made a point to remind Sky that they are their own people too. That they way they’ll rule will not be exactly like their parents and that they need to learn and embrace their own styles of ruling. (“What legacy do you want to leave behind Sky? One of greatness or one of strife and hatred?”)

-Out of the girls, aside from Bloom, he hangs out with Layla and Musa the most.

-They’re both down to try new sports or new foods, and they are fantastic workout buddies. (When Musa bothers getting up on time…)

-He does identify hard with Layla and Stella though… It’s the royalty and expectations thing…

-At Red Fountain, Sky quickly realized he had a lot of unlearning to do.

-Like, he had to realize that not everyone views Eraklyon as the best place ever to live. Yes it stung. And yes, finding out why people felt the way they did about Eraklyon also stung. But it helped him open his eyes to the truth.

-(It’s a bit of a more… Controlling realm. And they are always looking for ways to expand/colonize in other places. Usually while looking through loopholes in the Council’s mandates.)

-He also had to unlearn prejudice against dark realmers/people with dark magic. All his life he’d heard about the Ancestral Coven and how evil all dark magic is… While at Red Fountain, he had to learn that it’s the people who make magic evil, not the magic itself.

-(And he sort of had to unlearn that he’s entitled to certain things because of his royal heritage. That was a bit hard, considering he grew up a bit spoiled…)

-His favorite classes at Red Fountain had to deal with tactical maneuvers, combat training, and beast taming. (His dragon from season 1? Yeah it’s at Eraklyon. His name is Bruno and he is Sky’s baby. Okay?)

-His skills with a bow and arrow suck and his blaster aim isn’t much better, but damn does he know how to work a sword.

-(Saladin says its because he’s Erendor’s son. That blades remember who wields them best.)

-Sky isn’t a good cook. Period. But he does enjoy trying foods from other places. (And attempting to try and recreate foods he loved best… Usually in disaster and with Brandon giving him the ‘seriously dude?’ look.)

-While he may seem like a goodie-goodie… Sky has done his fair-share of pranks in the Red Fountain halls. Usually against other squads. And with prompting/backing from Riven.

-Pranks he was part of: the Great Caffeine Heist (which they promptly fixed because of Timmy), the Great Egg Swap, the Gryphons’ Great Escape, the Simulation Switch, and the Great Bubble Wars.

-(In retaliation, Sky has had his fair share of punishments… Including one where some of the school’s wizard students cursed his hair to become like a mood ring for a whole week. And one where the other squads pretended that his squad had missed a whole weeks’ worth of lectures.)

-After graduation, Sky had started on his transitional lessons/responsibilities from Prince to King. However, they were put on hold after he left for Earth. (Which Erendor allowed because Bloom and the realm of Domino were wanting to help with the Last Fairy situation and he felt he owed them that much considering how he fucked up in the war.)

-(Sky had a huge moment of culture shock with Earth. Like who the fuck still uses gasoline-based vehicles? Or lead using guns? And the homeless and sick people? The education disparities? Like yeah, Eraklyon has a class issue, but even the lowliest people on the Eraklyon hierarchy gets a good education with new books and supplies. How behind is Earth?)

-(But thanks to Codatorta’s medieval vehicles’ training courses, he and the guys can handle this.)

-Also, he really does enjoy getting to see where Bloom grew up and learning more about how Bloom became who she is.

-(Yes there was so much he screwed up about in the beginning… But he’s doing his best to make up for it with her.)

-Sky just… he wants to be a great ruler and change the direction he sees Eraklyon headed in. He wants to be a better person than his father and be a more understanding King. He just hopes he isn’t too late.

[alegnna-fanfictions]

Durarara Fanfiction - I forgive  you, do you forgive me [Alternate Ending]

(Durarara!! Fanfiction (Shizuo X Izaya))

~~ It was a cold rainy night, Izaya was walking down the streets without an umbrella and went to a dark alley, mesmerizing the memories with the man he once called a monster.

IZAYA : "I dont know" those words, are the only words that my mouth can say now, and nothing else my mind is all messed up every time I remember his face I remember how much I Hate him, NO! I love him. My Mind and Heart doesn't Sync at all, I hate him, but at the same time I loved him. and now I made up my mind I don’t know what to do now, what to say, what to think. is it too late now to say sorry?

~~Izaya calls Shizuo on the phone............

Shizuo is at Tom's house, He heard his phone ringing and picked it up he answered the phone and said :

SHIZUO: hello! Who's this?

IZAYA: hello Shizu chan

SHIZUO: flea? How did you know my number, ok I'm hanging up.

IZAYA: no wait!

SHIZUO: what is it now! What do you want?

IZAYA: Shizuo I- I

SHIZUO: Izaya?

IZAYA: *crying and sobbing*

SHIZUO: ok, you're creeping me out I'm hanging up now, go and troll somewhere else.

IZAYA: GODDAMMIT SHIZUO JUST LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY!!

SHIZUO: huh? hears Izaya crying hey Izaya are you-?

IZAYA: Shizuo, I cant hate you anymore? But why? Why does it have to be you?? Why?

SHIZUO: Izaya? Whats going on?

IZAYA: I'm sorry Shizuo, I'm sorry.....{{Phone hanged up}}

SHIZUO: hello? Izaya? FLEA!! GODDAMMIT!!

Shizuo immediately ran to the doorstep and Tom saw him leaving and followed him to his doorstep.

TOM: hey! Shizuo? Where are you going??

SHIZUO: I'm looking for the FLEA

TOM: huh? But Izaya is in Shinjuku how can you go there and besides its night and raining....

SHIZUO: I dont care whether he is in Shinjuku or Ikebukuro, Im off

TOM: uh- hah!!!

~~ Shizuo went looking for Izaya in a cold rain.....

SHIZUO: Izaya!! Flea!! Where are you!!

~~ after an hour

SHIZUO: Sighs~ why am I doing this? scratches his head Im going back-

Kasuka was running hurriedly and bumped to Shizuo

KASUKA: nii san you need to help Izaya!! Hurry!!

SHIZUO: kasuka? Wait? IZAYA? Where is he??

~~ as Kasuka pointed at the dark alley, Shizuo went there and look for Izaya

SHIZUO: (shocked) Izaya?!~~Izaya was lying on the ground wounded....

IZAYA: shi-shi-shizu cha.~~Izaya lose his consciousness....

SHIZUO: I-I-Izaya? IZAYAAAAA!!

~~ Shizuo Immediately ran to Izaya's side and carry him to the hospital the day After, Izaya woke up in the Hospital room, he saw Shizuo and Kasuka talking to the doctor outside the room with the door open.

DOCTOR: he will be fine now.

KASUKA: it is my fault, if only I didn’t let my guard down, those guys won't do this to Izaya

SHIZUO: no, it is not your fault, it is my fault.~~the doctor walks away leaving the two to have a private conversation

~~Izaya just watch the afar and listen to them

SHIZUO: it is my fault, if only I wasn't your brother if only, if only, IF ONLY I WASN'T A MONSTER!! THIS WONT HAPPEN TO YOU AND IZAYA!!

~~Izaya was shocked about Shizuo said, and he snapped

IZAYA: YOU ARE NOT A MONSTER!!

~~ Shizuo looked inside the room, and saw Izaya sitting on the bed looking down crying. Shizuo and Kasuka came running to Izaya when they also saw his wound bleeding on the right side of his body

SHIZUO: Kasuka call the doctor

~~Kasuka came out the room running to call the doctor Shizuo doesn't know what to do, he just stand there silently

IZAYA: Shi- Shi-Shizuo (crying) I'm sorry, I'm Really Sorry

SHIZUO: Izaya, whats wrong with you?? I hate you but acting like this, please stop it you’re acting like a whining woman

IZAYA: Im sorry Im Sorry Im sorry

~~ Izaya continuously say "sorry" to Shizuo ... At the Hospital rooftop, Shizuo was smoking remembering Izaya crying. he put off his smoking cigarette and went down to Izaya's room but no one is there, his heart ached when he noticed that the window was open and the curtains is being blown by the wind. he immediately ran to the window and look down,he thought that Izaya suicides, he was so nervous, but his nervousness became relieved when he heard a familiar voice at his back.

IZAYA: Shizuo?

~~Shizuo turn at his back and saw Izaya standing carrying an IV drip bag. he immediately turn his head and walk outside the room, the mixed feelings he feels cannot be explained. but not far from the room, he heard a crashing noise. Shizuo Immediately came back to the room running. Izaya was lying down the floor holding a piece of paper facing the door.

SHIZUO: what are you doing?

~~Izaya responded by waving the paper, Shizuo picked it up and read it. Shizuo's Expression turned mad.

SHIZUO: WHY DIDNT YOU GIVE ME THIS LETTER? WHAT IF IT IS TOO LATE!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO MY BROTHER!!!??? WE DON'T KNOW!!

~~Shizuo stomped his foot, and immediately goes out running fo find his kidnapped brother. Izaya sat on the floor and look at his stomach with a knife impaled on it, the wound began bleeding on his stomach. but he choose to hide it, and pulled the knife out of his stomach and wrapped the wound with a piece of cloth. Izaya, look outside the window and saw the man who just came by to deliver the letter and stabbed him running away. Izaya escaped the hospital to warn Shizuo.

~~Shizuo came to the building where the kidnappers take Kasuka. He entered the building without knowing whats the danger waiting for him Inside the building. as he stepped inside the building, the group of men with weapons came to face Shizuo, and kept him busy.

at the locker near the train station, Izaya, opened his locker and get an envelope inside it and went straight ahead to where Shizuo Is. Shizuo already defeated a half of the gang, but there is too many of them. After 20 minutes, Izaya came and Fought alongside Shizuo. they manage to defeat them, and went straight to the 4th floor. and there they saw Kasuka tied up in the pole, but I was unexpected to see that, Mairu and Kururi were also there. 

they Untie the three of them, but the gang blocked their way, so they dont have a another choice but to go at the roof top of the building. 

Shizuo: Dead End! 

Izaya thinked of an solution. but since shizuo had a super strength he can manage to jump off the bulding and can land on his foot without being injured or dying. so Izaya told Shizuo to carry Mairu, Kururi on his arms and Kasuka on his back. so they can be safe. Izaya: there!, keep them safe 

Mairu: how about you nii san? 

Izaya: I can Jump on my own Mairu, Kururi 

~~Izaya kissed Mairu and Kururi's forehead and smiled, then he looks at Shizuo, They heard the gang coming up the stairs. 

Izaya: on the count of three, (Izaya slipped the envelope to Mairu's pocket) One, Two- Shizuo: Three (Jumps off the building and landed on his foot) Safely, the 4 of them landed Uninjured 

Kasuka: where is Izaya? 

Kururi: where's nii san? 

~~the four of them turned and look back.

~~when they look back, they saw nothing, Izaya was nowhere to be found. Kasuka: he might be still up there. Kururi: maybe nii san have been caught? Shizuo: Damn Flea ~~the gang, saw the four of them and chase them, they ran and hid on the backside alley so that no one can see them. ~~meanwhile, Izaya, was captured by the gang and tied him up, they put a ducktape to his mouth and cover his eyes with a piece of cloth. Izaya only hears, their voices, but also he can feel the pain from his wounds. suddenly it became quiet when the boss came. BOSS: well, well what a surprise, isnt it the Info broker that I hate so much. It seems you didnt have enough patience, that you came to see me. ~~the boss sat down on a chair in the front of Izaya and one of the member came and bring him vodka. he sips a little and leans at Izaya. BOSS: you know, my plan was to capture Kasuka to lure Shizuo here and Kill that Man, and then, I'll capture your sisters and lure you here, and also kill you. it was unexpected that your sisters were at the same place where Kasuka is so we captured them together. but It was also unexpected that you and Shizuo were teaming up, arent you two are enemies?? (sighs~) ~~the boss finished his drink and stands up. he break the glass on the ground, then kicked Izaya's face. Izaya fell on the floor, where the shattered glass pieces is. he stomped on Izaya's head and told his men to torture him, then he left. the gang obeyed the boss said, and tortured Izaya.Izaya was being tortured, they used bats to strike him hard on different parts of his body and knifes to slash some parts on his body. after 2 hours, they got tired of it. guy1: I'm sick of this guy (kicks Izaya's back) guy2: yeah me too guy3: hey guys! all the gang looked at the 3rd guy, and they saw the him holding a box. and when they opened it, It was full of condom's, dildo's, vibrators, love lotions and whips. guy4: where did you get this dude? guy3: remember that porn star who need help from us, she didnt have enough money so, instead of having more debt, she gave this to us. guy1: I would like to use this to my girlfriend guy2: well too bad you dont have a girlfriend guy1: what did you say?! guy2: jerk guy3: hey hey hey, arent we just going to argue here, or were gonna play.the gang looked at Izaya smirking, and one of them started to remove Izaya's pants. but Izaya kicked his face and that guy get mad. he pulled a knife at his pocket and rip Izaya's pants Instead. they dragged Izaya into a cushion, and make him lay down facing his but to them. the first guy spreads his but then pour some love lotion into it. one by one, they inserted and tested a dildo into his ass, starting from the smallest up to the biggest dildo they get. Izaya was in pain, but at the same time, he was lustful. the 4th guy removed the ducktape to Izaya's mouth. Izaya Drool and Moan, after that the boss came in, seeing what they were doing to Izaya, he smirks. BOSS: well well well, how pathetic, the smart and evil guy I know was being lewd in the front of me, how shameful. the Boss left again after one of the member of the gang whispered something to him. Shizuo once again Infiltrated the building to save Izaya. but this time, the boss confronted him held Izaya as hostage. BOSS: well well well isnt it Shizuo Hei-wa-ji-ma. are you going to accept your faith now? (smiles) Shizuo: where is Izaya? BOSS: Izaya? (smirks) Izaya was playing with my minions. would you like to see how beautiful Izaya can be? Shizuo: you!!! BOSS: you know, I really thought that you would leave Izaya alone, but this is beyond my expectations. you really did come for him. the boss snapped his fingers and the guys take Izaya out, naked and lewd. they dropped Izaya on the floor and kicked him. Shizuo was shocked when he saw Izaya's condition on their hands, he tried to come closer to Izaya but, the Boss pointed a gun at Izaya so he stopped. Shizuo: what do you want? BOSS: what-do-i-want? hmmm~ (smiles) lets see, oh yes! I want you life, I want you to be vanish in Ikebukuro!! so as Izaya O-ri-ha-ra, so that I can rule Ikebukuro. Shizuo: Ikebukuro is not yours BOSS: eh?, it is not yours either, but you are called as the Ikebukuro's strongest. I'm so jealous. the boss grab Izaya by hair and pointed his gun at Izaya's head. BOSS: Ok, lets make a deal, Shizuo kun, I let you live, and I wont harm any of your friends in Ikebukuro, If you kill Izaya Orihara. and If you dont- one of the men came to the boss and give him a remote, then he backed off slowly after giving it. BOSS: you'll die, and Izaya will live. the boss pushed the green button and all the hidden machine guns appeared at the ceilings pointed at Shizuo. BOSS: make your choice, Heiwajima kun.

~~Shizuo has to make a decision, kill or die.

BOSS: I'll give you half an hour to make your decision Shizuo. and your time starts now!

~~the boss pointed the gun to the ceiling and pulled the trigger, the gun made a big noise. on the way back home, Celty heard the gun shot, she stopped "shooter" from running. Celty: a gun shot?

~~Celty opened her phone and saw Shinra's messages and read all of it. 

~~Celty rode Shooter again and went to the place where she thinks the gun shot came from.. 

>>>Meanwhile.... Shizuo was thinking deeply. he was tense...BOSS: this is going very boring......

>>>the boss stands up and gets his gun from his men and pointed it to Izaya

BOSS: how about this, in every 5 minutes you spend, Izaya is going to take a punishment (looks at his watch) oh look at the time, 5 minutes have passed.

>>>the boss, pointed his gun to Izaya's right arm and pulled the trigger, Izaya screams In pain....SHIZUO: Izaya!! Damn you, why did you do that to him!!!!

BOSS: hey hey hey, instead of shouting and being worried about him... how about came up of a decision already...

>>>Shizuo grit his teeth and said to himself that the boss is right, he think again but another 5 minutes have passed and Izaya's left arm was shot.. (Izaya continuously screams)

SHIZUO: stop it!! BOSS: have you come up of a decision yet?? SHIZUO: yes I-I-I haveBOSS: good, coz (kicked Izaya) I got bored about this guy screams, and you guys have no fun. so? what is your decisi-

>>> the boss stopped talking when all the windows in the room shattered and someone came in. 

>>> it was Celty, riding her shadow horse shooter

Men 1: its the headless rider Men 2: I thought She was gone now in Ikebukuro, since no one has news about her Men3: boss what now...

>>> the boss ordered his men to shoot at her but they cant land a bullet on her body because of her shadow. 

>>> he grabbed Izaya and pointed a gun at him with his trembling hands

BOSS: dont! come any c-c-closer SHIZUO: celty? celty help Izaya!!!

>>> but Celty didn’t listen to Shizuo, instead she goes to Shizuo and grabbed his hand

CELTY: were leaving, Shizuo SHIZUO: what? CELTY: no but's

>>> the boss had a chance to make his move and grabbed his remote then press the fire button, and all the machine guns aimed at Celty and Shizuo. but Celty covered Shizuo and her with her shadow and form a ball. 

>>> because of the bullets who landed on the floor, the floor cracked and the shadow ball fell along with the floor. >>> all machine guns stopped

BOSS: are they dead? ahahahahahahhaha they were dead!! (peaks through the hole on the ground) the legendary headless rider and the strongest man in Ikebukuro was dead, DEAD!!! whahahahahaha

MAN 2: no boss!! the ball was rolling!! MAN 3: they were getting away!! MAN 1: are we going to fire at them boss?? 

BOSS: ahahahahahaha (stopped laughing) NO, coz I still have the most skilled Info broker in Ikebukuro, (looks at Izaya) and If I kill you, I will gain fame!!

>>> the boss pointed the gun to Izaya and BANG! a sound of a gun shot fills the room, a cough of a man was heard after.

>>> blood splattered at Izaya's face.Man1: BOSS!>> the men came to help their boss who is wounded by a bullet at his back

BOSS: who dared to-

>>> Vorona was standing behind them all of the guns were pointed at her.

IZAYA: Vorona

VORONA: don't misjudge me, I'm only doing this because senpai.

>>>the men fired their guns at will but all the bullets were dodged by the blond assassin. 

--[[FLASHBACK]]--

SHIZUO: celty we have to save Izaya!

CELTY: you need to be saved first Shizuo, I know that we need to save him but I can't just save the both of you at the same time, specially when I promised him.

SHIZUO: promised? you promised what?

CELTY: I promised that you will be saved first instead of him if the two of you are in a life and death situation.

SHIZUO: what?!

CELTY: Izaya asked me to save you instead of him.

SHIZUO: why would he-

>>>Shizuo remembered Izaya's confession on the phone...CELTY: if you want to know you should ask hi-

SHIZUO: no need to, I might know now the reason. I just need to confirm it, I need to save him.

>>>Shizuo walks away, little did they know, Vorona heard their conversation and decided to help Izaya on her own for the sake of his senpai.

--[[FLASHBACK ENDS]]--

VORONA: stay right there, I just need to eliminate these people.

>>>Vorona opened fire at everyone and never missed a shot. She dodge and put bullets in their bodies. After the fight all the dead bodies lying down the floor with blood gushing out making a puddle of blood.

>>>Vorona looked at Izaya, she was mad at him, but she need to get Izaya out of the building.

>>> She grabbed Izaya's arm and drag him out of the building with her. After the came out, she took out a small remote and pushed a button. As she did it, there are explosions in the building triggered. Slowly the building collapsed.

VORONA: don't just stare at the collapsed building

>>>The woman took a key out of her pocket and rode her motorcycle, she started the motor and wait for Izaya to ride at the back.

>>> It took a while because of Izaya's injuries but he managed to ride it.

>>> At Shizuo's house, Shizuo was planning to go and rescue Izaya again. He grabbed his jacket and was about to open his door when it opened immediately and slammed into his face.

>>>But to Shizuo this kind of pain is just like a tickle but he's still pissed about it.

SHIZUO: who dares to-!

>>> His voice cut short when Vorona pushes Izaya to Shizuo.

>>> Shizuo was kinda confused at first but Vorona spoke first.

VORONA : I saved him, no need to thank me...

>>>The woman turns her back and walks away.

SHIZUO : thank you (he whispered)

>>>Izaya was completely passed out on Shizuo's arms. Shizuo carries the raven haired one to his bed and get some first aid kit. He opened the first aid kit and then he realized something.

SHIZUO :  I don't know how to treat wounds, sighs~ you're a troublesome flea. Naturally its Shinra that treats our wounds.

>>>Shizuo continues talking to himself as he wiped Izayas face with a wet towel.

SHIZUO : I wished you told me sooner,...I love you too Izaya. 

~~ After the incident...

"hows your wounds? Is it still hurting?" Shinra looked at Izaya who is in the wheelchair inside his office.

"I'm doing fine now, don't worry so much for me" Izaya said with a slight smile as he put things in the boxes.

Shinra is kinda curious what is he doing instead of resting so he asked him again "what are these boxes for?"

"Ah these?" Izaya answered "I'm gonna trow these away" he added

"Hah? But these are all your informative files and your disks, why are you throwing these away? Hey Izaya just to remind you, you're not dying" Shinra said sarcastically. 

Izaya just laughed at Shinra said and turned his wheelchair to the table and  took two keys then threw it to Shinra. Shinra catches the keys and said "what is this for?"

"Give the red one to Namie and the green one to my sisters" Izaya said without looking at Shinra."Why am I the one who's bringing this to your secretary and to your sisters?"

"Please Shinra do me a last favor" Shinra raised a brow but he sighed in the end and do as Izaya said.....

~~~~

A week later "All Passengers of flight 160 please proceed to gate 9" the announcer announced. Izaya was leaving, leaving the place where he spent most of his days, leaving the family he only had, leaving the people whose been around him for a long time and leaving the one that change him, the one that he loved the most.

Izaya entered the gates without looking back."Shizuo, in the next life never see me again, so that I won't fall in love with you ever again" he whispered as he sat at his seat.

"In the next life I would meet you again even though you ignore me I'll make you fall in love with me again"

Izaya looked at his left and saw Shizuo beside him."Shi-Shizu chan?" izaya confusedly said as he jumped out of his seat.

"Yeah its me flea, take a seat were about to take off" Shizuo grabbed Izaya's wrist gently and Izaya took his seat and looked away.

"Shocked that I was here?"

"Of course,"

"You really want to leave me that badly"

"I-I-"

Shizuo smiled "you can't leave me, coz you're mine, and you should take responsibility"

"Ha? What are you talking about?"

"I was just saying, I fell In love with a flea"There was a moment of silence between them and its been annoying Shizuo. But he remembered what Shinra said to him "Take initiative" 

Shizuo hold Izaya's hand and Izaya felt it, he looked at the blond and pulled his hand away. 

But Shizuo took again his hand and said "lets start a new beginning, Izaya" 

[pattyg1992]

Ripped From Time

Thomas Sanders

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Chicago, Illinois

Tom walks silently, his hands clutching the straps of his backpack. He stares ahead. Groups of others walk in both directions, carrying books, bags, cellphones. The sounds of chatter, laughter, music blaring from headphones. The hum of traffic on the road to his left is constant. The honk of cars at the convoy of yellow buses pulling out of the school.

“Hey! Tom!”  

He comes to a stop and turns his head left, and sees a kid sticking his head out of the bus window. It’s already passing him, but the kid leans out further to keep in his sight. Tom just smiles and shakes his head.

“Remember, tomorrow after school! Navy Pier! Be there!”, the kid says before waving.

Tom nods his head and waves back before continuing forward. Before too long he sees the playground up ahead. A few guys have congregated there. Sitting on the swings, leaning against the equipment. They talk boisterously, a few of them are smoking. A familiar smell enters Tom’s nose. He stops breathing through his noise to keep out the smell.

He watches them until one of them catches his eye. Quickly looking away, he turns to his right, walking down a deserted alley. His nose now wrinkles at the smell of garbage coming from an old dumpster, but he keeps walking.  

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out. A text message from his mom.

Be on the lookout for your sister please! I won’t be home until later.

With a sigh he rolls his eyes and puts the phone away. A faint ringing begins in his ears. He shakes his head trying to get rid of it, but the ringing only starts to increase in volume. Suddenly he begins to feel light-headed and he leans against a brick wall for support. Nausea sets in. All sound goes away, the only thing he can hear is the ringing which is now deafening. Everything begins to spin and go blurry. Then everything goes dark and silent.

His eyes open, and he immediately shields them from a blinding white light from above. The dizziness remains but the ringing in his ears are fading. The beam of light fades off. The nausea and vertigo fades with it. He sits up and looks around. His surroundings are dark, but it appears to be some kind of room. As he gets up, he briefly pauses. He feels his shoulder and back and then turns around and crouches. Reaching out with his hands he pats the floor, registering the hard surface of stone.

“Where’s my bag?”, he asks.

From somewhere above a voice echoes, making him jump.

“ATTENTION NEW ARRIVAL! PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE EXIT! THE NEXT ARRIVAL WILL APPEAR IN ONE MINUTE!”

The voice begins to repeat itself as a white outline appears in the gloom in the shape of a door. Tom gets up and walks quickly toward it. The bright light returns, but he barely feels the nausea returns before the door slides open, and he steps out into a white corridor. The walls, ceiling, and floor give off a glow as if light is emanating from it. People began to exit other doors that line the hallway. Hundreds of them shuffle along following a yellow line that appears to move forward leading them along.

He begins to follow them looking back and forth. The hallway seems to go on forever. People move past, some of them mumbling looking confused. Others, quiet but fear in their eyes. Some are dressed in ordinary clothes, but many more appear dressed strange outfits and costumes.  

One woman is wearing a crinoline dress. Her hair tall and elegant. Her skin powdered white with red rouge on her cheeks. Another person, who he guessed was a man walked past in dark robes, his face hooded and hidden. A trio of women in flapper dresses blush and brush past a man with chestnut skin and long dark hair. His only clothing a loincloth.

Tom takes on a variety of men, women, and children of various ethnicities and outfits. He turns to a wizened old man in a feathered headdress. Before he can say anything the hallway ends. He steps through and gasps. He is standing at the top of amphitheater of indescribable size. It is entirely made of stone. Thousands of rows, descending, holds a great mass of humanity, and more appear from entrances surrounding them every second.  

He looks up at the night sky. It is clear with countless stars twinkling. However, there are two moons, and what appears to be a planet as close as any moon but green in color. The crowd begins to push him towards one of the rows of stone benches. He does not fight it but follows the flow and takes his place staring down to the bottom of the amphitheater. It’s almost too far down to see but he squints, just making out a raised platform with what appears to be people standing there.  

“Tom? I-is that you?”, says a voice to his immediate right. His head turns and stares into the eyes of a familiar face. His eyes widen, and for a second, he pulls away.

“Andy? What happened? You look so different?” says Tom.

“You look exactly the same. I thought you were dead. We all did.”

Tom stares at him for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“I knew something was wrong when you didn’t show up at Navy Pier that day. No one knew where you were. You just... went missing. It’s been ten years. But how do you look the same?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” A voice behind Tom makes them both look around. A guy dressed in skater attire gives them a superior look.

“Tell me what’s today’s date?”

“What?”, asks Tom.

“Come on, just humor me.”, says the guy.

“March 6, 2020, why?”

Tom turns to Andy who just shrugs.

“That can’t be right, it’s March 4, 2010.”, says Tom.

“Last time I checked it’s June 19, 1994.” says the guy,

He laughs at the disbelief on their faces and shakes his head.

“It didn’t take me long to figure it out. For one thing there are more than a few people dressed like they’re going to a period ball. Some look like they belong in a Shakespeare play. One dude was walking around in a toga in laurel wreaths like he’s a Roman. And I could have sworn I saw people from the lost colony of Roanoke.”

“That’s crazy. But I mean-”, Patrick looks at Andy, inspecting a few gray hairs.

“That would explain why you look 27 instead of 17.”

“I guess, unless we’re all just dead. Maybe this is limbo.”, says Andy looking around.

“No, that didn’t feel like dying to me. Too trippy. And I felt like throwing up. We’ve all been ripped from time!” says the guy.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

Toms turns back around and his jaw drops. What it appears to be a gigantic hologram floats in the center of the amphitheater. It depicts a man well groomed, in a white outfit. There are gasps around the room and more than a few hysterical screams and shouts of alarm.

“Please, remain calm. Everything will be fine. I know there are more than a few of you who can’t process what you’re seeing but I’ll explain everything.”

Tom looks around. Many of the screams have died down and there is a low buzz as the mass of people began murmuring among themselves. Several of them are speaking unfamiliar languages.

“To put it simply, we have taken you all from different times in history. All of human history going back two hundred thousand years.”

Tom’s heart begins to beat. He’s barely aware of the gasps of surprise and confusion. He turns back to the skater guy, who gives him a satisfied smirk before turning back to the hologram.

“I know this is confusing, but it was necessary. To preserve the species, we had to take all of you, in small groups, throughout time. You are all that’s left of humanity, and you’re going to help its continuation.  

A blast of noise forces Tom to cover his ears but he can make out some of the words among the crowd.

“Where are we?”

“Who are you?”

“Take me back home!”

“My family must be worried sick!”

The hologram of the man raises his hands and every single voice cuts off. Tom looks around and sees lips moving, he can feel the vibrations of shouts, but no sound can be heard. He turns to Andy who mouths, “How did they do that?”.

“I don’t know.” Tom responds back testing out his lack of voice.

“Everything will be fine, I promise you.”, the hologram says. “It will all make sense in time. Unfortunately, you’ll never return to your lives. We’ve selected all of you for a reason. To history you’ve all gone missing and vanished without explanation, but a new history is being written. Your descendants will see you as the pioneers of a new civilization. A new life awaits you.”

As he speaks hundreds of people in black uniforms appear among the crowd. Seemingly out of thin air. Tom jumps as one of them appears in front of him, gesturing for him to move. He tries to stay close to Andy as he is jostled and moved by the crowd. He breaks out into a sweat, visibly shaking, as he is ushered downstairs to the bottom of the amphitheater. He sees the mysterious figures on the raised stand below as he descends towards them.

[lyonrhodes]

One Bad Day #7: Into the Gray

Red Hood x OC, Batman/DC Fan Fic

Summary: Dora has lived in Gotham her whole life and is accustomed to the rampant crime and corruption. Her life gets worse when Black Mask takes over the city. She thinks all hope is lost but a new vigilante appears, calling himself the Red Hood. However, he’s not your typical knight in shining armor. Dora must decide: does she dare fall in love with a revenge-driven killer? (Romance, Crime, Action)

Chapter 7: Into the Gray

The jail cell was cramped—five feet by eight, probably less; Dora couldn’t be sure. The concrete walls were a dull gray, and so were the floor, the ceiling, and the steel door sealing her in. The fluorescent lights hummed above her, obnoxiously bright, but one bulb insisted on flickering and snapping incessantly. It was driving her mad and giving her the worst headache of her life. She would have tried to rip it out of its socket if it wasn’t behind a metal grill.

So much for taking all the credit, Dora thought to herself. She massaged her temples as a bone-chilling shiver rippled throughout her body. She had never been more uncomfortable in her whole life.

She was cold, hungry, thirsty, and in pain. Her hair and clothes had dried, but she still reeked of alcohol from the thugs shooting up the liquor shelf behind the bar. The shredded hem of her stained tank top exposed her stomach and arms to the 70-degree chill circulating in the room. Her lower back ached because of the unyielding aluminum bench she was lying on. Dora knew these holding cells were purposefully constructed to ensure maximum discomfort.

Although the EMTs had cleaned and treated the burn on her hand, the pain seared every now and then as if it was still on fire. She wanted to regret making that Molotov cocktail, but she couldn’t. Without it, Carla and Holly wouldn’t have been able to escape the bar.

It had been eight hours, although she could only guess. The only way to keep track of time was the combination steel toilet/sink that automatically flushed itself about every thirty minutes. She knew because she had counted the minutes. But since then she had lost count of the flushes. She was tired and wanted to sleep, but just couldn’t for longer than twenty minutes at a time. It wasn’t the lights, or the hard bench, or the toilet flushing, or the pain in her hand. It was the recurring flashes of blood bursting from human heads that kept shaking her awake.

In particular was the man she had killed.

The bullet was too fast to see but she should easily recall a hole appearing in his cheek, his head snapping to the side, and a misty red halo behind it.

She felt sick to her stomach, not for the first time since being locked in this cell. As her stomach heaved, Dora forced herself to think of something else. Anything else.

Her mind landed on Carla.

Is she alright?

Carla had escaped the bar, but Dora didn't know if she had gotten home safe. She and Holly could have run into another group of thugs on the way. That wasn't out of the question in Park Row in the middle of the night. And if she had made it home... It broke Dora’s heart thinking about how shell-shocked Carla had been—nearly catatonic. She almost died. And she saw me kill a man. How long will it take for her to get over that? Hopefully she hasn’t talked to the police.

Bullock wouldn't give her a phone call, so the worry was killing her—along with the anxiety of how her mother was bound to react. She couldn't be bailed out even if they had the money. Montoya had tried to emphasize that she wasn't under arrest. She was being detained as a witness. Apparently in the GCPD’s messed-up way of operating, that didn't entitle her to the same basic privileges as a criminal.

A clatter came from the other side of the door. Dora sat up and popped the kinks out of her back as the door slid open with a sharp buzz. Bullock walked into the cell in a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Had enough?”

Dora wasn’t sure if she was happy to see him or not. “You interrupted my nap,” she said through a real yawn.

Bullock grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the cell. He led her out of the cell block, his grip never loosening. He was hurting her, aggravating the burn on her hand, but Dora didn't complain because he might cuff her instead.

He shoved her into an interrogation room and pushed her so hard into a chair that it nearly toppled over. Dora looked up at the camera in the corner, wondering if it was recording. Montoya entered the room as Bullock sat down at the table.

“Let's try this again.” Bullock put out his cigarette and tossed it aside.

Dora glared at him. “Okay.” Nothing had changed since before he had “detained” her—hours ago.

Montoya picked Bullock’s cigarette butt off the floor and put it in the wastebasket. “You don't have to talk to us without an attorney present.”

“Shut up, Montoya,” Bullock snapped.

“It’s her Fifth Amendment right. We have to say it.”

“No, we don’t. She’s not under arrest.”

“It's okay,” Dora said, “I don't need the Fifth. I didn't do anything wrong.” Lawyering up implied she was guilty of something—which she was, but she wasn’t about to let anyone know that.

Bullock wasted no time. “Who is he?”

“I already told you. Red Hood.”

Bullock growled. “What's his real name?”

“I don't know.” You think locking me up for however many hours would make me remember something I've never known?

“Look, kid, it isn't a coincidence that the Red Mook saved your ass twice in two weeks. We know you are tight with him. Just give us his fucking name already.”

“I don’t know who he is. Haven't you heard? The whole neighborhood around Park Row is his turf now. Isn’t it the police’s job to watch our backs, not vigilantes?”

Bullock grit his teeth. He didn’t like that slight, but chose to ignore it. “Thirty square blocks of territory, but he still managed to know when you were in trouble.”

“My bar is in the middle of Park Row. You're a cop, you of all people should know how bad it gets on that street. They call it Crime Alley for a reason, dude. Red Hood’s a vigilante, so yeah, chances are he was watching closely, especially in the middle of the night. Plus, those assholes shot up my bar for, I dunno, ten whole minutes before he even showed up—maybe a half hour before you guys finally decided to.” She wanted to go on, but bit her tongue. It’s no wonder we have half a dozen vigilantes running around the city. You guys suck at your jobs.

“Why’d they shoot up your bar for? What’d you do to piss them off?”

My little sister had some coke they wanted. “I already told you,” Dora said, rolling her eyes. “They just broke in and started shooting up the place. Maybe they wanted to rob me. They certainly wanted to kill me. They were probably False Facers, looking for payback from before.” In truth, Dora suspected they were from the Latino United gang or Escabedo Cartel. The LU were enforcers and dealers for the cartel.

“Those asshats your boyfriend killed were members of the Escabedo Cartel, not the False Face Society.”

Knew it. “What’s it matter who they work for?”

Bullock chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Gangsters, pimps, judges, councilmen, CEOs... Your boyfriend kills whoever he wants. Everyone wants payback.”

“Stop calling him that!” Dora finally snapped. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“You know what? I think he is!” Bullock stood up and slammed his fists on the table. “You’re fucking the guy, aren’t you? Why else is he always saving your ass?”

“Always?” Dora was exasperated. Bullock jumping to conclusions was infuriating. “He helped me out twice! Just two fucking times!” She held up two fingers, and wanted nothing more than to jab Bullock’s eyes to make him understand. Red Hood had saved Holly and Rochelle both twice as well, but she couldn’t mention that without implicating them.

“I’m not stupid! And neither were those men that shot up your bar! They knew you are the Red Mook’s old lady, that’s why they rained hell down on your head—to draw him out! Admit it! You’re fucking him! Tell me his name!”

“I have no idea who he is!” she shouted. “I’ve never even seen his face!” For half a second she couldn’t help but wonder what was behind his mask—and that reminded her. “The dude took one step at me, so I pepper sprayed him! I don’t like him any more than you do, so fuck off, man! I just want me and my bar to be left alone!”

Bullock pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “Come here, you lying little spic, you’re—”

“Bullock, enough!” Montoya pulled him away and slammed him into the wall. Dora was surprised. She was stronger than she looked.

“Get off of me!” Bullock shrugged her off.

“Back off the girl, Harvey, or I’ll tell Gordon you're harassing a witness.” Montoya’s deep brown eyes seemed to smolder. Dora had seen the same look in her mother’s eyes, and her sisters’. Maybe it was a Latina thing.

“She's not a witness, she's a fucking accomplice!”

“We don't know that yet.”

“It's right in front of your face, Montoya! Open your fucking eyes! We should book her now for obstructing the investigation!”

“Not without due diligence. Get out. Now.”

Bullock groaned and threw his hands up. “Fine. I'm done. I'm fucking done. I don't know why I bother. Get out of my way, I’m going home. I’m getting too old for this shit.” He shoved Montoya aside and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Montoya pinched her nose, releasing a tense sigh.

“How’d you get stuck with an asshole like that for a partner?” Dora asked. She was happier than ever for withholding the truth. Red Hood was probably right. If she had told Bullock that she had killed one of the thugs—even if it was in self-defense—he would have jumped to charge her with manslaughter, or worse.

Montoya straightened her jacket and took the seat across from Dora. “I agree with you. He’s an asshole. But he’s a good detective despite that.”

Dora scoffed, incredulous. “You don’t actually believe that—”

“Look, mija—”

“I'm not your fucking daughter.” She hated Montoya calling her that as much as she hated Bullock calling Red Hood her boyfriend.

“Sorry. Dora, look. If you don't speak up now, it could bite you in the ass later.”

“I already told you what happened. I already told you I don’t know his name, or what he looks like under that mask.”

“Okay, this guy’s real cool. I get it. He’s tall, he’s fit, he’s got a mask and can go toe-to-toe with Batman, Nightwing, even Mr. Freeze.” Montoya reached across the table and held her hand. Dora let her, but narrowed her eyes. “And he’s looking out for you more than anyone else. He’s got your back when no one else does. Dora, I know it seems like he cares about you...”

Dora pulled back her hand. “He doesn’t. I’m not...”

“... but don’t confuse his attention or your own gratitude for love—no es amor verdad...”

She couldn’t take it. Pushing off the table, she stood and ran her hands anxiously through her hair.

Montoya was wrong. Dora had no idea who Red Hood was, what he looked like, even his age. And of course, he didn’t like her that way. She didn’t like him that way either. If anything, Dora was sure she annoyed Red Hood, having to be saved all the time. He probably had things he would rather be doing than saving her butt and cleaning up her messes.

But then she remembered just how much it looked like he enjoyed beating the crap out of those thugs. How he enjoyed killing them.

Dora took a deep breath and glared at Montoya. “For the last time. I don’t know his name. I don’t know what he looks like. And I am not sleeping with him. Okay?”

Montoya steepled her fingers and studied Dora closely. “No me gusta mentiras. If you’re lying to us, Dora, when we catch him, you’ll be charged as an accessory to every crime he’s committed wearing that mask. He’s killed people, Dora, so you’ll be complicit. Do you understand what that means? You’ll be in prison for the rest of your life too. Would you really risk your freedom, ruin your life, for a guy? Por este hombre?”

Dora only glared at her. She didn’t want to say it again.

Montoya sighed. “Okay, mira. While you were in detention, I talked to the DA and he’s offered a deal. If you help us catch, we’ll give you queen for a day. You’ll be immune to everything he’s done so far. But you have to decide now.”

For a moment, Dora thought it was insulting that Montoya believed that she would let her emotions, her feelings for a man, cloud her judgment—her morality.

But with a pang, she realized that Montoya was half right. It had happened last night when she reached for a gun rather than her pepper spray. It was happening right now, she was lying to the police, denying that she had killed a man, and letting Red Hood take the blame instead.

But it didn’t matter. She didn’t have the information Montoya wanted. “Pass,” Dora finally said.

Montoya hung her head for a moment, disappointed, then nodded. “Fine.” She stood up and opened the door. “Then you’re free to go.”

Dora was halfway out when Montoya whispered, “Esta es tu última oportunidad. Espero que valga la pena.” She had said, “This is your last chance. I hope he’s worth it.”

And at that moment, Dora wished she did know Red Hood’s identity, because he probably was worth it.

悪

The door opened with a loud buzz and clank. The police officer ushered her through. “Keep your nose out of trouble, kid.”

I try, but trouble always seems to find me.

She walked out into the crowded lobby of the 99th Precinct, and was suddenly aware of how exposing her tank top was—sheer and torn, her midriff bare for everyone to see. Bullock and Montoya hadn’t given her a chance to grab her jacket when they “detained” her, let alone her phone or bag. Going back inside the bar would “contaminate the crime scene.” After hearing her story at the Alibi, Bullock had spat “Bullshit!” in her face and shoved her into a cruiser. Montoya had to convince him to wait for the EMTs to treat the burn on her hand before they drove her down to the precinct. Looking out the plate-glass doors across the lobby, Dora dreaded the nine-block walk home—then the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She could sense her coming.

Fuck.

“Dora Adela Marianela Aurelia Manuela Silva Alvarez!” Dora’s mother shouted her full name for all of Gotham to hear. The slim little woman shuffled up to her, unleashing an almost incoherent babble of Spanish. “Dios mío, dige me todo! Voy a pegarte si no le me digas la verdad... Que pasó en mi bar? Ay, pero mira... O, mi niñita... Lo siento, perdoname. Ven aquí. Dame sus brazos. Está okay?”

Dora cringed as her mother Anita pulled her into a tight hug. But unlike many times before, the cold awkward embrace became warm and welcome. Dora found herself gripping her mother tightly and burrowing into the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry, Mami. Era una noche insana... voy a dijir todo, no te preocupas.”

It was a crazy night. I’m going to tell you everything, don’t worry. But Dora knew she couldn’t share everything. She would have to give her mother the same bullshit story she had given Bullock and Montoya.

Anita frowned and made a concerned noise, fretting over the look of her. “Here, take my jacket. You can tell me everything later. I need to file a report about the bar,” her mother said. “For insurance y todo. Cuida sus hermanas.” She released Dora from another vise grip of a hug and strutted off.

Dora saw her youngest sister, Mercedes, fidgeting as she waited at the back of the room. The lobby of the 99th precinct was gray, dingy, sparsely decorated, and bustling with questionable people and intimidating cops. Carla sat next to Mercy, looking as vacant as she had the night before—like she was asleep with her eyes open. With earbuds in her ears, the environment didn’t seem to bother Carla as much as it did Mercy. The ten-year-old mumbled to herself, rocking back and forth nervously. Her eyes flickered to Dora, and she was immediately out of her seat, running to her. Dora desperately wanted to talk to Carla, but she couldn’t say no to her baby sister, especially when she was so anxious.

Mercy hesitated when she was close—Dora knew it was because of how haggard she looked, but she put a smile on her face and beckoned her to come forward. Mercy lunged forward and embraced her. Dora kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry. I know I was gone, but I couldn’t help it. Something bad happened in Papi’s bar.”

Mercy wrinkled her nose. “You smell like him.”

Dora clenched her jaw, remembering her father’s vices. “Yeah, there was a spill.”

“What happened?”

“I was robbed. Some bad guys tried to take our money. It happens, y’know? But I was saved by—”

“Batman!” her baby sister chirped.

Dora smiled and shook her head. “No, not Batman. This guy calls himself Red Hood.”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve heard of him! Some of my friends don’t like him. They say he’s a bad guy. Apparently, he kills people... and cuts off their heads...”

“He only kills bad people,” Dora emphasized. “Men who deserve to die.” As soon as she said it, her mouth felt dry. Did she really mean that? It wasn’t something she should have told an impressionable 10-year-old girl.

Mercy’s frowned. “But Mami yells at Carla all the time for being bad! Cuz she hangs out with those bad boys who in a gang, right?” She grabbed Dora’s sleeve. “Red Hood not going to hurt Carla—is he, Dora?”

Carla’s eyes flicked in their direction at the mention of her name. She finally noticed Dora and pulled off her earbuds.

“No, he won’t hurt her,” Dora said. She held Mercy’s hand and guided her toward Carla. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mercy nodded eagerly.

“He’s... he’s my friend,” Dora said, only half-believing it was true. “And we’re good people. He won’t hurt us. He’s protecting us.”

“But he’s scary, Dora. He kills people. You’re really friends with that guy?”

Dora searched for an answer Mercy would understand, looking from her eyes to Carla’s, who was waiting anxiously. She finally said, “Sometimes, a hero has to be scarier than the monsters he fights. Sometimes that’s the only way to protect people: scaring off the bad guys. Batman is pretty scary, right? But he’s a good guy.”

Mercy frowned. “Yeah, but Batman doesn’t kill people this Red Hood guy does.”

It was as if someone struck a match with Dora’s heart. Maybe he should, she thought suddenly, inflamed. If he did, Gotham wouldn’t be harassed by the same assholes again and again.

As quickly as the thought had sparked, it was doused by the disquiet on her baby sister’s face. She probably saw the anger on her face, leaving Dora feeling ashamed and sick to her stomach again.

Carla handed Mercy her phone. “Give us a sec, please.” As the little girl went back to her seat, Carla pulled Dora aside by a vending machine. “Are you alright?”

“Are you?” Dora asked. That seemed like the imperative question. But then she realized that Carla must have been as worried as she was, if not more. Dora had been the one to stay behind in the Alibi to take on four armed thugs, not Carla. Dora looked down at her bandaged hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. How’s Holly—umph!”

Without warning, Carla hugged Dora, so hard she forced the breath out of her.

“I’m so sorry for putting you in that position, Dee,” Carla lamented. Dora could feel her tears on her shoulder. “I’m out of that crew, for good. I’ll never talk to those dudes again. Don’t... just don’t tell Mami. Please! She’ll kill me!”

Dora pushed Carla back and wiped the tears from her eyes. “What about what I did?”

Carla sniffled and tilted her head. “What do you mean? Almost burning down the bar with a Molotov? That was actually kinda badass.”

“No, I...” Dora couldn’t finish what she wanted to say—”I killed someone.”—in the middle of a police station, with her ten-year-old baby sister within earshot.

“What?” Carla asked, confused.

Does she not remember what I did? Maybe Carla had missed that part. She never saw Dora actually kill that one thug. She had been huddled under the bar, having a panic attack, trying her best to ignore the situation and will herself out of existence.

Dora pulled Carla back in and hugged her tightly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll never tell anyone you were there.” She wouldn’t. She had to keep the lies she told the cops consistent. However, she felt guilty for considering her sister’s post-traumatic memory loss a silver lining. She could take Carla to the free clinic for therapy another time, but for now she just wanted to go home, take a shower, and sleep in her own bed.

“I love you, Dora.”

“I love you too, Carla.”

As if granting her wish, their mother approached, holding Mercy’s hand. “It’s nice to see you two finally getting along. Let’s go home.”

[v0.3.15.1]

[breha]

@princessparadoxical said: Always down for more Farah/Amanda 😉😉

Here’s an AU where Farah is a bouncer and the Rowdy 3 is a punk band Amanda is in: 

It was definitely Todd’s fault.

The Electric Spin was a club carved out of a gutted laundromat on the outskirts of town, the kind of place with no sign on its door or address on its website, but a packed house every night all the same. Amanda loved it: the neon piping in the ceiling, the black paint on the floor in the process of being scuffed back to white tile by hundreds of feet, the row of still-working washers and dryers behind the stage that they let the staff and bands use. Each one was named for someone famous who had played there, and they said that if you washed your gig jacket in one of them, it would be lucky forever. 

This is where Todd’s total dickwashery came in: Amanda had reached into her backpack to get her jacket and felt the frayed collar of Todd’s instead. Had he somehow mixed them up? Doing laundry at her house in the dark, maybe. That would be so Todd. Sure enough, when she pulled the jacket out, instead of her “No Spoons, No Masters” patch, there was Todd’s shitty Dead Kennedys pin. Amanda kicked the air, which hurt - her knees were not great today - and sat down on Martin’s guitar amp.

“What’s up and down, Mando?” Vogel asked. He squatted down next to her, bouncing steadily on the balls of his feet. 

She waved him off. “Nothing.” 

Suddenly, Cross, Martin, and Gripps appeared around her like they’d risen out of the stage floor. 

“Is something bothering you?” Cross said. “'Cause I’ll kick it. In the face!” He struck a karate pose and kicked the air to illustrate, complete with an enthusiastic “hiiii-yah!” Amanda couldn’t help smiling. 

“I’m fine. I just don’t have my jacket,” she explained. “I wanted to wash it before the show.” 

“Ah, you don’t need that luck,” said Martin.

“We’re already in the flow,” said Gripps.

Vogel nodded. “Word.” 

Amanda’s phone buzzed: Todd. She picked it up and walked over to sit on her drum stool. “Dude, did you take my jacket?” 

There was someone else talking in the background, so at first it was difficult to make out what Todd was saying. 

“Yeah - I mean, no, it wasn’t me. Dirk switched them. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. But I - look, I just need to - I have it and I’m outside but this lady won’t let me in and...honestly, I think she’ll punch me if I try to go around the back.” 

Amanda jumped off her stool probably faster than was wise. She ran to the front door and stuck her head out. There was Todd, looking sheepish with the jacket in hand as he argued with an absurdly beautiful girl. When Todd had said “lady,” Amanda had expected some kind of middle-aged person. This woman was Todd’s age or maybe younger, and everything about her was, well. All Amanda’s dumb gay brain could come up with was “symmetrical.” The collar of her button-up sat crisply over the lapels of her unadorned leather jacket, which led to her military-square shoulders and her regular, serious face. Even her hair, which rose around her head like a storm cloud, gave the impression that not a piece of it had ever been out of place, possibly out of sheer willpower on her part. Amanda suddenly felt extremely self-conscious about her eyeliner being uneven. 

“Hi,” Amanda said, or hoped she did. It might have come out more like “huh.” 

“Hello,” replied the symmetrical girl. “I’m filling in for Bud as bouncer until 8:00, and Mr. Park specifically told me not to let anyone in until the doors open for the show.” She spoke a little too fast, as if she’d prepared the words ahead of time and just wanted to get through them without fucking up. It wasn’t what Amanda would have expected her to sound like. 

“Yeah, but I’m just trying to give my sister her jacket,” Todd argued. 

The girl opened her mouth to speak, clearly about to restart a debate she and Todd had been having for who knows how many minutes, but Amanda interrupted. 

“Look, I’ll just take the jacket, okay? Todd doesn’t have to come in.” 

Amanda tried not to grin as the girl wrinkled her nose and considered this. 

“...Okay, fine.” 

“Yessss.” Amanda plucked her jacket out of Todd’s hand. “Thank you so much, dude. You’re my favorite brother.” 

She turned to go back inside, then, suddenly overcome with confidence - maybe from the luck she was about to get washing her jacket - she turned back. 

“Are you gonna stay and watch the band?” she asked. 

The symmetrical girl stared at her. “Me?” 

“Yeah, obviously you. Come on, we’ll give you a free t-shirt. I’m Amanda, the drummer.” 

In her peripheral vision, she could see Todd rolling his eyes. As if he had any flirting skills beyond bragging about being an a band. Ha! 

“Farah,” replied the girl, offering her hand for Amanda to shake. Farah. Amanda shook her hand, trying her best to look cool, then made sure to stick out her tongue at Todd behind Farah’s back before she retreated back into the club. It would be sound check soon, and they wanted to make sure things were loud to enough to damage everyone’s hearing permanently. 

**

Filling in at the Electric Spin had been an unexpected development. Farah and Bud had worked together on a security team about five years ago, and they still kept in contact to trade tactics and advice. He’d called at 09:00 to ask if she could help him out: his cat was sick, and he needed to take her to the vet, so he wouldn’t be able to make it to work until 20:00. After a few minutes of mentally adjusting her plan for the day, she’d agreed. Bud was her friend, maybe. You were supposed to be there for friends. Probably. 

The sad guy with the jacket had also been unexpected, as was his drummer sister with the chipped nail polish - Amanda. 

“Roll with the punches,” Farah muttered to the sidewalk. “Be ready for anything.” Even messy punks who offered you a t-shirt and invited you to their show out of nowhere. Farah could go to a punk show. She was cool. Cool and relaxed. Relaxed and cool. Definitely.

Over the last hour or so, the line outside the door had grown until it curved around the block out of Farah’s sight. Amanda’s band must be popular, she realized. Everybody wore jackets with studs and had various types of jewelry on - in - their faces. People laughed and jostled each other as they waited to get in, giving the line a party-like feeling in itself. The audience had been flowing steadily into the club since 7:30, and Farah couldn’t imagine that the place could hold that many more people. 

Farah checked her watch. Bud was two minutes late. Three minutes. Three and a half.

“Hey, sorry.” 

She turned and found herself staring at a black t-shirt. There he was, finally - all 6′6′’ of him. She took a step back so she could see his face without looking up. 

“Thanks for filling in for me, Farah. Anastasia’s fine, she just ate something she shouldn’t have and I panicked.” He shrugged his giant shoulders and looked sheepish. A lot of people were looking sheepishly at her today. Well, except Amanda, who had smiled as if Farah were an old friend. 

Farah put her hand on Bud’s elbow. “I’m glad Anastasia’s okay. I think I might stay for the show.” 

The inside of the club was humid and packed with people, the kind of crowd that made Farah reach into her jacket for her knife just to hold onto something solid. She edged her way towards the stage to get a better look at the band, which seemed about to start. There were four men - maybe; it was probably not right to assume - and, tucked in the back with her drums, Amanda. She looked completely at home, spinning one of her drumsticks in her hand as she laughed at something the guitar player had said. 

As much of a hush as could be expected fell over the crowd as the frontman stepped up to the microphone. He didn’t have an instrument, although he was, nonsensically, holding a wiffle ball bat. 

“We are the Rowdy Three!” he screamed. “Let’s get rowdy!” 

Farah tried to yell to the person next to her - there are five of them! - but Amanda’s drums drowned out her voice.

It was unlike anything Farah had ever experienced. The band was a wall of noise that lifted her up and carried her away. They seemed not to care about anything as plebeian as genre; they were punk one moment, funk the next, and, for one memorable song, genuinely classical. It turned out the wiffle ball bat was for punting various objects into the audience, mostly hats and small stuffed animals. (Farah was certain she also saw at least one dildo that almost hit somebody in the eye.) She danced until she could barely breathe, and she felt, for the first time in a long time, not afraid of anything.

**

After the first set, Amanda pulled her hair into a ponytail and wandered over to the bar for a beer. She kept an eye out for Todd and Dirk, but, knowing them, they were probably either arguing or making out in a corner somewhere, neither of which she felt much like getting in the middle of. Someone pushed a side door open, and a gust of cool air blew over the back of Amanda’s neck. Man, she wanted a cigarette. The adrenaline of performing was still buzzing through her body, and her hands shook slightly as she pushed open the door and reached into her pocket for her lighter. 

A few other people were smoking in the alley, and there, leaning against the wall by the trash cans, was the lovely bouncer from earlier. Farah. She had one of the hats Martin liked to bat into the crowd in her hand. It was Amanda’s favorite of the bunch they’d bought from the secondhand store that afternoon - green with the words WOMEN WANT ME, FISH FEAR ME embroidered on the front. Farah seemed slightly bemused by it. 

“So, what do you think of the music?” Amanda asked, and Farah jumped in surprise. Amanda exhaled a cloud of smoke and grinned at her. 

Farah smiled too, and Amanda’s stomach jumped a little bit. She had an asymmetrical smile. Her hands moved in wide circles to emphasize her words. “It’s - it’s awesome - it’s brilliant. Your organizational structure and artistic personality make no sense, of course, but I had - fun. Thanks for asking me to come.” 

Amanda laughed. “You’re so weird.” 

This made Farah frown. “No, I’m not.” 

“I mean that in a good way.” 

“Oh.” 

They both looked at their shoes. Then Amanda said “Listen - ” at the same time that Farah said “I should - ” 

“You go first,” Farah said. 

“Do you want to go get a milkshake after this? I know a really cool 24-hour diner and I think you’re really cool so. You should go...there. With me.” Amanda tried not to visibly cringe at her own utter awkwardness.

Farah smiled again, apparently not noticing. “Yeah, okay.” 

**

Amanda smelled like cigarettes or incense or maybe both. She let Farah listen to her favorite Bikini Kill album with her headphones and talked about her brother and her friends a lot, but didn’t seem to think it was weird that Farah didn’t have anyone to talk about except her fish. 

“Dude, you have a betta fish? That’s so cool. Aren’t they, like, really aggressive?” 

“They’re misunderstood.” 

Farah felt Amanda’s hand slip into hers and realized that she was probably fucking up her entire schedule for tomorrow by being out this late. She also realized that she didn’t much care. For once, she felt like going with the flow. 

[sorayahigashikata]

Chapter 91: "The right kid's gonna die tonight! I think."

[readbookywooks]

“So … Thomas,” the boy said through a huge bite of mashed potatoes. “Who am I nicknamed after?”

Thomas couldn’t help shaking his head—here they were, about to embark on probably the most dangerous task of their lives, and Chuck was curious where he’d gotten his nickname. “I don’t know, Darwin, maybe? The dude who figured out evolution.”

“I bet no one’s ever called him a dude before.” Chuck took another big bite, and seemed to think that was the best time to talk, full mouth and all. “You know, I’m really not all that scared. I mean, last few nights, sitting in the Homestead, just waiting for a Griever to come in and steal one of us was the worst thing I’ve ever done. At least now we’re taking it to them, trying something. And at least …”

“At least what?” Thomas asked. He didn’t believe for a second that Chuck wasn’t scared; it almost hurt to see him acting brave.

“Well, everyone’s speculating they can only kill one of us. Maybe I sound like a shuck, but it gives me some hope. At least most of us will make it through—just leaves one poor sucker to die. Better than all of us.”

It made Thomas sick to think people were hanging on to that hope of just one person dying; the more he thought about it, the less he believed it was true. The Creators knew the plan—they might reprogram the Grievers. But even false hope was better than nothing. “Maybe we can all make it. As long as everyone fights.”

Chuck stopped stuffing his face for a second and looked at Thomas carefully. “You really think that, or you just trying to cheer me up?”

“We can do it.” Thomas ate his last bite, took a big drink of water. He’d never felt like such a liar in his life. People were going to die. But he was going to do everything possible to make sure Chuck wasn’t one of them. And Teresa. “Don’t forget my promise. You can still plan on it.”

Chuck frowned. “Big deal—I keep hearing the world is in klunky shape.”

“Hey, maybe so, but we’ll find the people who care about us—you’ll see.”

Chuck stood up. “Well, I don’t wanna think about it,” he announced. “Just get me out of the Maze, and I’ll be one happy dude.”

“Good that,” Thomas agreed.

A commotion from the other tables caught his attention. Newt and Alby were gathering the Gladers, telling everyone it was time to go. Alby seemed mostly himself, but Thomas still worried about the guy’s mental state. In Thomas’s mind, Newt was in charge, but he could also be a loose cannon sometimes.

The icy fear and panic Thomas had experienced so often the last few days swept over him once again in full force. This was it. They were going. Trying not to think about it, to just act, he grabbed his backpack. Chuck did the same, and they headed for the West Door, the one leading to the Cliff.

Thomas found Minho and Teresa talking to each other near the left side of the Door, going over the hastily made plans to enter the escape code once they got into the Hole.

“You shanks ready?” Minho asked when they came up. “Thomas, this was all your idea, so it better work. If not, I’ll kill ya before the Grievers can.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said. But he couldn’t shake the twisting feeling in his gut. What if somehow he was wrong? What if the memories he’d had were false ones? Planted somehow? The thought terrified him, and he pushed it aside. There was no going back.

He looked at Teresa, who shifted from foot to foot, wringing her hands. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she answered with a small smile, clearly not fine at all. “Just anxious to get it over with.”

“Amen, sister,” Minho said. He looked the calmest to Thomas, the most confident, the least scared. Thomas envied him.

When Newt finally had everyone gathered, he called for quiet, and Thomas turned to hear what he had to say. “There’re forty-one of us.” He pulled the backpack he was holding onto his shoulders, and hoisted a thick wooden pole with barbwire wrapped around its tip. The thing looked deadly. “Make sure you’ve got your weapons. Other than that, isn’t a whole lot to buggin’ say—you’ve all been told the plan. We’re gonna fight our way through to the Griever Hole, and Tommy here’s gonna punch in his little magic code and then we’re gonna get payback on the Creators. Simple as that.”

Thomas barely heard Newt, having seen Alby sulking over to the side, away from the main group of the Gladers, alone. Alby picked at the string of his bow while he stared at the ground. A quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. Thomas felt a rising tide of worry that somehow Alby was unstable, that somehow he’d screw everything up. He decided to watch him carefully if he could.

“Shouldn’t someone give a pep talk or something?” Minho asked, pulling Thomas’s attention away from Alby.

“Go ahead,” Newt replied.

Minho nodded and faced the crowd. “Be careful,” he said dryly. “Don’t die.”

Thomas would have laughed if he could, but he was too scared for it to come out.

“Great. We’re all bloody inspired,” Newt answered, then pointed over his shoulder, toward the Maze. “You all know the plan. After two years of being treated like mice, tonight we’re making a stand. Tonight we’re taking the fight back to the Creators, no matter what we have to go through to get there. Tonight the Grievers better be scared.”

Someone cheered, and then someone else. Soon shouts and battle calls broke out, rising in volume, filling the air like thunder. Thomas felt a trickle of courage inside him—he grasped it, clung to it, urged it to grow. Newt was right. Tonight, they’d fight. Tonight, they’d make their stand, once and for all.

Thomas was ready. He roared with the other Gladers. He knew they should probably be quiet, not bring any more attention to themselves, but he didn’t care. The game was on.

Newt thrust his weapon into the air and yelled, “Hear that, Creators! We’re coming!”

And with that, he turned and ran into the Maze, his limp barely noticeable. Into the gray air that seemed darker than the Glade, full of shadows and blackness. The Gladers around Thomas, still cheering, picked up their weapons and ran after him, even Alby. Thomas followed, falling into line between Teresa and Chuck, hefting a big wooden spear with a knife tied at its tip. The sudden feeling of responsibility for his friends almost overwhelmed him—made it hard to run. But he kept going, determined to win.

You can do this, he thought. Just make it to that Hole.

CHAPTER 55

Thomas kept a steady pace as he ran with the other Gladers along the stone pathways toward the Cliff. He’d grown used to running the Maze, but this was completely different. The sounds of shuffling feet echoed up the walls and the red lights of the beetle blades flashed more menacingly in the ivy—the Creators were certainly watching, listening. One way or another, there was going to be a fight.

Scared? Teresa asked him as they ran.

No, I love things made out of blubber and steel. Can’t wait to see them. He felt no mirth or humor and wondered if there’d ever be a time again when he would.

So funny, she responded.

She was right next to him, but his eyes stayed glued up ahead. We’ll be fine. Just stay close to me and Minho.

Ah, my Knight in Shining Armor. What, you don’t think I can fend for myself?

Actually, he thought quite the opposite—Teresa seemed as tough as anybody there. No, I’m just trying to be nice.

The group was spread out across the full width of the corridor, running at a steady but quick pace—Thomas wondered how long the non-Runners would hold up. As if in response to the thought, Newt fell back, finally tapping Minho on the shoulder. “You lead the way now,” Thomas heard him say.

Minho nodded and ran to the front, guiding the Gladers through all the turns necessary. Every step was agonizing for Thomas. What courage he’d gathered had turned to dread, and he wondered when the Grievers would finally give chase. Wondered when the fight would begin.

And so it went for him as they kept moving, those Gladers not used to running such distances gasping in huge gulps of air. But no one quit. On and on they ran, with no signs of Grievers. And as the time passed, Thomas let the slightest trickle of hope enter his system—maybe they’d make it before getting attacked. Maybe.

Finally, after the longest hour of Thomas’s life, they reached the long alley that led to the last turn before the Cliff—a short corridor to the right that branched off like the stem of the letter T.

Thomas, his heart thumping, sweat slicking his skin, had moved up right behind Minho, Teresa at his side. Minho slowed at the corner, then stopped, holding up a hand to tell Thomas and the others to do the same. Then he turned, a look of horror on his face.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered.

Thomas shook his head, trying to squash the terror Minho’s expression had given him.

Minho crept ahead and peeked around the sharp edge of stone, looking toward the Cliff. Thomas had seen him do that before, when they’d followed a Griever to this very spot. Just like that time, Minho jerked back and turned to face him.

“Oh, no,” the Keeper said through a moan. “Oh, no.”

Then Thomas heard it. Griever sounds. It was as if they’d been hiding, waiting, and now were coming to life. He didn’t even have to look—he knew what Minho was going to say before he said it.

“There’s at least a dozen of them. Maybe fifteen.” He reached up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “They’re just waiting for us!”

The icy chill of fear bit Thomas harder than ever before. He looked over at Teresa, about to say something, but stopped when he saw the expression on her pale face—he’d never seen terror present itself so starkly.

Newt and Alby had moved up the line of waiting Gladers to join Thomas and the others. Apparently Minho’s pronouncement had already been whispered through the ranks, because the first thing Newt said was “Well, we knew we’d have to fight.” But the tremor in his voice gave him away—he was just trying to say the right thing.

Thomas felt it himself. It’d been easy to talk about—the nothing-to-lose fight, the hope that just one of them would be taken, the chance to finally escape. But now it was here, literally around the corner. Doubts that he could go through with it seeped into his mind and heart. He wondered why the Grievers were just waiting—the beetle blades had obviously let them know the Gladers were coming. Were the Creators enjoying this?

He had an idea. “Maybe they’ve already taken a kid back at the Glade. Maybe we can get past them—why else would they just be sitting—”

A loud noise from behind cut him off—he spun to see more Grievers moving down the corridor toward them, spikes flaring, metal arms groping, coming from the direction of the Glade. Thomas was just about to say something when he heard sounds from the other end of the long alley—he looked to see yet more Grievers.

The enemy was on all sides, blocking them off completely.

The Gladers surged toward Thomas, forming a tight group, forcing him to move out into the open intersection where the Cliff corridor met the long alley. He saw the pack of Grievers between them and the Cliff, spikes extended, their moist skin pulsing in and out. Waiting, watching. The other two groups of Grievers had closed in and stopped just a few dozen feet from the Gladers, also waiting, watching.

Thomas slowly turned in a circle, fought the fear as he took it all in. They were surrounded. They had no choice now—there was nowhere to go. A sharp pulsing pain throbbed behind his eyes.

The Gladers compressed into a tighter group around him, everyone facing outward, huddled together in the center of the T intersection. Thomas was pressed between Newt and Teresa—he could feel Newt trembling. No one said a word. The only sounds were the eerie moans and whirrs of machinery coming from the Grievers, sitting there as if enjoying the little trap they’d set for the humans. Their disgusting bodies heaved in and out with mechanical wheezes of breath.

What are they doing? Thomas called out to Teresa. What are they waiting for?

She didn’t answer, which worried him. He reached out and squeezed her hand. The Gladers around him stood silent, clutching their meager weapons.

Thomas looked over at Newt. “Got any ideas?”

“No,” he replied, his voice just the tiniest bit shaky. “I don’t understand what they’re bloody waitin’ for.”

“We shouldn’t have come,” Alby said. He’d been so quiet, his voice sounded odd, especially with the hollow echo the Maze walls created.

Thomas was in no mood for whining—they had to do something. “Well, we’d be no better off in the Homestead. Hate to say it, but if one of us dies, that’s better than all of us.” He really hoped the one-person-a-night thing was true now. Seeing all these Grievers close up hit home with an explosion of reality—could they really fight them all?

A long moment passed before Alby replied. “Maybe I should …” He trailed off and started walking forward—in the direction of the Cliff—slowly, as if in a trance. Thomas watched in detached awe—he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Alby?” Newt said. “Get back here!”

Instead of responding, Alby took off running—he headed straight for the pack of Grievers between him and the Cliff.

“Alby!” Newt screamed.

Thomas started to say something himself, but Alby had already made it to the monsters and jumped on top of one. Newt moved away from Thomas’s side and toward Alby—but five or six Grievers had already burst to life and attacked the boy in a blur of metal and skin. Thomas reached out and grabbed Newt by the arms before he could go any farther, then pulled him backward.