#Hanger Hill

[dubmill]

Hanger Lane station, London; 24.4.2022

[liauditore]

i forgot what his ingame name was and had to scrub thru a bunch of videos looking for him like a cryptid and i think that's incredibly joe hills of him

[autisticisopod]

AAAGH IT'S DONE

I was a stupid creature and forgot to post it like last month when it was actually done, but oh well, here it is in all it's glory. I love my child

The hooks were hand forged by myself, so I'm super happy. I also cut the wood and everything YAY!!

[tngrace]

Let's play I spy......

Who's trophy is that?

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 7

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 6 | Series Masterlist | Part 8

Chapter Summary: You meet some of the staff at the club and try to reason with one of Bucky's men about your situation.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, mention of stalking, inner conflict, insecurities, manipulation, possessiveness, flirting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren't sure exactly how far the club was from the bookstore, but you didn't say anything for a minute after his declaration. You’d read stories about instalove before, the accelerated trajectory of feelings and relationships. It wasn't something you thought you’d ever be on the receiving end of. That mixed with a dark antihero.

How was this your life?

Bucky chose to break the silence. “You can change here if you want.”

Your heart rate spiked as you stared at the garment bag. There was a chance that the dress was to your liking, your style. But in the car, it wasn't like you could shield yourself if you undressed. He’d see you. Maybe even try to touch you. Was it worth the risk?

Reaching for it, you took a deep breath and curled your fingers around the hanger. The moment you grabbed it though, you set it right back on the hook. You wouldn't bother unzipping it to take a look. You weren't a doll for him to play dress up with.

“Sorry, Bucky,” you began, shifting to face him. “I’m sure it’s a nice dress, but I'm not wearing it.”

“You sure?” He asked. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“I don't need to see it. You got your way about me going to the club and I think it's fair I get my way about the outfit,” you said. “We both know I could've met your friends another time. It didn't have to be tonight. So they'll meet me like this or not at all."

His eyes snapped to you, pinning you in place as you froze. Giving him an ultimatum over something he may consider trivial wasn't a smart move and it wouldn't be a hill you'd die on, but you needed some sort of win. Part of him had to understand that.

Bucky's lips curled in a small smile, but you still swallowed nervously. “You look stunning to me just as you are,” he said, tracing the collar of your shirt with his fingertip. "Perfect even.”

“What?” You asked. You were far from stunning. “You're really okay with me going into your club like this? I don't think it meets the dress code.” You were lucky your black dress was nice enough to get in the first time.

“And? I said in the bookstore that you can wear whatever you want since you look beautiful in anything, so of course I’m okay with it,” he said, his finger gliding down the middle of your chest. “If you're worried about anyone saying anything, don't be. You’re my girl and my friends and I will shut anyone up who tries to make you feel less than perfect.”

Your eyes widened at the casualness of the threat. There was no reason to threaten anyone on your behalf. You could also hear Marc's voice in the back of your mind, reminding you that Bucky was dangerous. “Bucky, you don't have to do anything.”

“If someone upsets or hurts you, yes, I do,” he said.

Addison was the type of person who would defend you if you were upset or hurt. You would do the same for her. A boyfriend type defending you was entirely different. He could've just said that to make you lower your guard or play on your insecurities. So why did it still sound like he meant it?

You gripped his wrist before his touch could move further down your body. “What if you upset or hurt me?” You asked.

Bucky blinked at your question, an unfathomable look in his eyes. “I promised I’d never hurt you,” he whispered. You were the only one safe from his underlying rage, weren't you? Because something was lurking beneath the surface that you hadn't yet witnessed. “But I'd do whatever I could to make you happy again if I upset you.”

“You realize dragging me to your club didn't make me happy?”

“I didn't drag you. You got into the car with my help,” he teased. When you didn't smile, he sighed. “I'm sorry. You told me you wanted a quiet night and I pushed you to go anyway. I just got so excited for everyone to finally meet the girl of my dreams and…” He shook his head. “That doesn't matter. I should've listened.”

The apology sounded so sincere it threw you for a loop. If gaslighting was an Olympic sport, he could take the gold. Everything about the man had you second guessing just about everything. “I appreciate that,” you said, going with a safe response.

He smiled as the car rolled to a stop. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his gloved hand taking yours.

You wouldn’t ask how he planned to do that. “Wait,” you said, pulling him back slightly before he could open the door. “Can we just sit here for a second?” You weren’t ready to go into the club. Maybe you could buy yourself another minute or two.

“You're stalling,” he smiled. You didn’t disagree. “We can't stall for too long. The longer we stay, the more it pushes back the evening and I promised you’d be in bed by 10.”

“I just want to talk for another minute. I still don’t feel like I know much about you.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Things like your family? You said there was a story about your mom,” you said.

A swirl of emotions passed in his eyes, a range of sorrow to anger and even hope. “There is, but I want to tell you that story when it’s just us,” he said. Just the two of you. Alone together. “I will say though that the original club belonged to her before I turned it into The 107th. It helps keep part of her memory alive for me.”

“That’s a beautiful thing,” you said honestly. She clearly meant the world to him. “And your dad?”

“He deserved what he got,” he said, not an ounce of pity or sorrow in his voice.

“Oh.” There was no lost love there. You wouldn’t linger on the topic since that was likely another story for another time. “Can you tell me why your left hand is always covered? You said I'd never be a mistress, but are you covering up a wedding ring or something?”

The storm raged in his eyes again and you had to keep yourself from shrinking back when he wrapped a hand around your neck. Your heart pounded as he applied a light amount of pressure, but he didn't squeeze any further. Would anyone help you or care if you tried to scream? “Do you feel a ring beneath the leather?”

“No,” you whispered, your eyes shutting when he leaned in.

His breath fanned across your lips. “I told you before that you’re the only one I see,” he whispered. “So when I do wear a ring on that finger, it’ll be on our wedding day.”

You let out something like a whimper when his thumb rubbed along your pulse. While you wanted to stall before, the car now felt too small. Too hot. You wouldn't be able to breathe if you stayed in there much longer. “I think we waited long enough to go inside,” you whispered.

Both of you sighed when he let go of your neck. “I think we did, too,” he agreed, taking your hand again. “But before I forget, you owe me a picture of you since I found you.”

You glared at him since you hoped he’d forget about that, but he only smirked before he helped you out of the car. Parked right in front of the club, you nearly jumped when you saw Raymond standing close by, his gaze flickering between you and his boss. “Hey, Ray,” you said as Bucky pulled you along.

Raymond said your name in reply as he followed close. There were already a few people lined up to get in, but your attention was on the bright sign of The 107th. It welcomed you. Taunted you. You had a feeling you were going to become very familiar with the ins and outs of this place.

“Let’s go, Kotyonok,” Bucky whispered. You hadn't realized you stopped walking until he slipped his arm around your waist and guided you forward.

Bucky nodded to the doorman and walked tall with you beside him. Of course he wasn't nervous. He had no reason to be. This was one of his castles and he was the king. And he chose a peasant to be by his side. A peasant he wanted to make his queen.

The music vibrated through the floor as you went inside and bypassed the coat check. The sound grew louder as you approached the main floor and watched the crowd, all dressed to impres. The lights bathed everyone in red and it felt like you had walked into a sensual version of Hell. And Bucky, the devil of the establishment, tugged you closer by the waist, but he might as well have put a collar around your neck to show everyone that you were his pet.

“Breathe,” he said close to your ear, making it hard to exhale. You were out of your element, the territory somewhat terrifying since you weren't in the company of your friends this time around. At least your legs weren't shaking. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

“Maybe later,” you replied over the music.

“Then let me introduce you to some of the staff. And don't worry. They know who you are,” he said. Before you could respond to that and ask what exactly they knew about you, he turned you back toward the way you came and waved a couple of men over. Your breath caught in your throat when they approached. Both wore a black top and pants and were as large as Bucky and looked just as dangerous.

“This is Ari,” Bucky said, nodding to the darker haired man who had a scowl on his handsome face. “And this is Jax.” The blonde smirked when you made eye contact with him. “They’re two of my best bouncers and they’ll help keep an eye on you when you're not with me.”

You scooted closer to Bucky on instinct when both of them stared at you, but you didn't lower your gaze. Their looks could never be as penetrating as the man who owned this place. “Keep an eye on me? Are you my babysitters?” You asked. Would they watch your every move, too, and report back to Bucky?

Ari didn't smile, but the scowl softened. Jax, however, chuckled. “Guess you could say that, but we don't mind,” he said, his grin flirty and eyes twinkling as your cheeks warmed. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, darlin’.”

“Jax,” was the only thing Bucky said, his fingers digging a bit more into your side. Ray gave the bouncer a warning glance, too.

Jax shrugged. “Just being polite,” he smiled. The man likely had people hanging all over him during his shifts with his charm. He probably wouldn't have looked at you twice under normal circumstances, but you smiled back anyway.

“I appreciate the politeness,” you said.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not being polite. You're flirting with my girl,” he said to Jax, your smile falling immediately when the air around you thickened.

“Just being polite,” he said again, not at all bothered by the look his boss gave him.

“Nice to meet you,” Ari cut in, his voice deep and even. People probably hit on him, too. And as domineering as they were, you felt an odd sense of security.

“It’s nice to meet you both. Hopefully you won't have to babysit me too much,” you said, glancing at Bucky. His fingers were still digging into your side, his muscles tense. Was he jealous? “Breathe,” you urged, giving him the same instruction he gave you moments ago.

The bouncers each had a look of surprise on their faces when Bucky listened and slowly exhaled. “Okay. Thank you,” Ray said, gesturing for them to get back to work. “Boss?”

Bucky’s hold on your relaxed a bit. “Let’s introduce you to Hal and then we’ll go to my office,” he said.

“Office?”

“Quieter than the VIP section,” he explained.

You weren't sure if people recognized Bucky or if it was just the aura of power that he gave off, but people moved out of the way without prompting as he led you toward the bar. He smiled as he did so, completely at ease in his domain. “You know, I don't need babysitters,” you told him.

“You need people to look out for you, especially if you’re with me,” he said.

“Because you’re dangerous,” you said. You’d eventually have to find out why. “Once again, you aren't giving me a choice.”

“When it comes to your safety, I can't,” he stated unapologetically. You grit your teeth as he took you to the bar where a couple of bartenders were working. You didn't pay much attention to the guy at the other end since the one right in front of you had no shirt on, his toned torso on full display.

“This is Hal. Our top bartender.”

“Hey!” The bartender flipped his light brown hair back and flashed you a smile almost as bright as his tan. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” You repeated, nodding as your mind flashed back to Addison’s bachelorette party. “That’s right. You gave my friend a shot before we went into the VIP section. You have a great memory.”

“I’m good with faces and you have a very pretty face,” he smiled.

The attention from his staff was dizzying. It wasn't anything you were used to. What was it going to be like when you met everyone else? You felt so lost.

“First Jax, now you,” Bucky muttered. For a split second, you thought he would try to cover your eyes. “Would you put your fucking shirt back on and stop hitting on my girl?”

“Oh, c’mon. I'll put it on after my shift. This is getting me tons of tips already and will only continue through peak time.” Hal winked at you and you tried to smother a laugh. Between Jax and Hal, you wondered if the two of them had a bet going to see who could make their boss snap. If so, they were brave.

“Bucky, I’m not looking at Hal’s abs,” you said.

The bartender snorted when his boss's eye twitched. “Just get back to work,” he grumbled, stepping a couple of feet away from you to speak to Ray.

“You can look. I won't tell,” Hal smiled, leaning on the bar. “Boss man said you’d make an appearance tonight.”

“And here I am,” you smiled, leaving out that it wasn't by choice.

“Is there anything I can get you? Your drinks are always on the house.”

“I’m fine for-” A man in a blue suit elbowed his way in before you could finish. “Excuse me.”

The guy sneered at you as he gave you a once over. “Ugly underdressed bitch,” he said, making you flinch before he snapped his fingers at Hal.

You glanced down at your clothes, your throat tight. You stubbornly refused to wear the dress Bucky got you on principle, but the jerk’s comment was another reminder that you didn’t belong there. What would prompt someone to be so rude?

“Hey!” The guy snapped at Hal again when he didn’t serve him right away.

The bartender smiled, but it didn't look right as he stood back to his full height. Had he heard what the guy said? “You know, it’s not nice to interrupt a lady, John. Maybe you should apologize.”

“Fuck that,” the guy, John apparently, scoffed. He must’ve frequented the place enough if Hal knew the guy's name and you weren't about to cause a scene. A complete stranger shouldn’t make you feel bad anyway.

Hal’s smile disappeared completely. “Do you know who she’s here with?”

“It’s okay, Hal. Thanks,” you said, your burning eyes on the floor as you moved back to Bucky’s side. You didn't want to be there. You didn’t belong there. Why couldn't you just-

“You okay, Kotyonok?” Bucky asked, lifting your chin with a look of concern. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you answered, giving him a tight-lipped smile. You just wanted the night to be over. “Can we go to your office, please?”

Bucky intently searched your face, something dark taking over his eyes as your heart raced. “Ray?”

“Boss?”

“Quick change of plans. You take her upstairs and wait outside my office,” he ordered, swiping his thumb along your cheek. “I think Hal and I need to have a quick chat before I join you.”

“Hal didn’t do anything,” you said quickly. He was a sweet guy from what you could tell and he didn’t need to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s anger for something insignificant.

“But someone did,” Bucky guessed, his eyes still dark when you didn’t deny it. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, ushering you toward Ray.

“Bucky, it’s fine,” you said over your shoulder, but he had already waved Hal over to speak to him.

“This way, please,” Ray said, leading you away from the bar.

Before you knew it, he took you up a flight of stairs and down a corridor, the decor sleeker than the main floor. The closed double doors at the end of the hall you could only assume was Bucky’s office since Ray had you stop just outside of them. You took a breath and leaned against the wall. Though you could feel the beat of the music against your back, it was much quieter. Less crowded. You didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.

“What’s he going to do?”

“Depends on what or who upset you.”

“You’re my girl and my friends and I will shut anyone up who tries to make you feel less than perfect.

You took a moment to look at the bodyguard as he stood against the opposite wall. Stoic. Pristine. “What am I doing here, Ray?” You sighed. This wasn’t your scene. It wasn’t your world.

“Meeting some of the boss’s staff and friends,” he answered.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant… God, I don’t even know what I mean,” you groaned and wondered how long it would be before Bucky joined you. “But I don't belong here.”

“Yes, you do,” he said.

Why in the world would he think that? “How long have you worked for Bucky?” You asked. It wasn’t that you wanted to really talk, but you didn’t want to let your mind race while you waited.

“A few years now,” he replied.

“You’ve seen him date people then. Has he stalked any of his past girlfriends that you’re aware of or am I the unlucky one?” You asked. Bucky told you he tried to go the traditional dating route and that the last woman he saw tried to rob him.

“You’re the only person he has gone to extremes for,” Ray carefully answered.

“Extremes. You mean stalking,” you said. Did that make you feel better or worse that it was just you? “So, you’re fully aware that he stalked me. And that he plans to move me into his place.”

Ray gave you a single nod, though you wouldn’t say he looked proud. “I am.”

“Can you stop him?” Your stomach dropped when he shook his head. “Why not?”

“You can’t stop or delay the inevitable. He wants you and I’m afraid that’s that,” he said.

Incredulity crossed your face. He sounded like Bucky, but this was somehow worse. Did he not see that his inaction helped upheave your life? “Oh, it’s that simple, huh? Bucky wants me, so he gets me? Did you even try to stop him when he began to do ‘research’ on me?”

“No,” he stated. One simple word that held so much weight.

“What the hell?” Fury seared through you as you pushed yourself off the wall. “You didn’t think to step in and at least tell him, I don’t know, that stalking is crazy and wrong and illegal?!”

Ray blinked and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You think he’d listen to me?”

Your fury didn’t dissipate, but you did step back. “Well. I assumed…”

“That what? That we’re friends? He may respect my opinion from time to time and he may consider me a friend, but he’s my employer first and will not hesitate to remind me of that,” he said, glancing down the hall. “And perhaps it is not my place to say so, but as wrong as it is this is the happiest I've ever seen him. You ground him.”

“So, as long as he’s happy, it doesn’t matter what he does?” You asked, feeling more hopeless by the second. “Why am I bothering? You don’t care.”

There was no reasoning with Bucky nor his men. At this point, you were going around in circles. It was exhausting.

Ray blinked again. “You assume I don't care because I’m not stopping him. His methods are unconventional, sure, but he just wanted your full attention.”

“There are other less creepy ways to get my attention.”

“Are there? You know what we found when we researched you?” He asked rhetorically. “You never go out. You're either home or at work. When you’re at work, you don't give a second glance to any of the men who come in. Where was he supposed to naturally meet you?”

“That doesn't…” Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to weep. Being a homebody shouldn’t be a tool to use against you or used as a means to manipulate you. “I went out with my friends. And he flat out said ‘where’s the fun in that’ when I asked why he didn't just ask me out. Stop making excuses for him.”

It was no wonder Bucky did whatever he wanted unchecked.

“You went out with friends who are all in relationships and aren't interested in meeting anyone. So you didn't go out of your way to meet others which no one is faulting you for. Breaking in was a bit much, but he was desperate and took drastic steps to get to and keep you,” he said. He spoke like it was natural, logical. “You're afraid. I know. But you’re the one in his eyes. If you try to run, we’ll be forced to catch you. Is that really what you want?”

Your hands shook. “I just want normalcy.” Was that so wrong?

“And you wanted someone to love you. So did he,” he said with more gentleness than you expected. “There’s always some madness in love.”

“And between love and madness lies obsession,” you said. That’s what Bucky was to you: obsessed. “Why am I the one? Why is he so desperate to have me?”

The bodyguard considered your question. “Does there have to be one reason? He has no family left. Work and friends can only take so much of the emptiness away,” he said, glancing down the hall again.

You bit your lip. “When you dug into my life, was there something specific that set me apart from anyone else he ever encountered? An incident or anything?”

Bucky convinced himself you were his soulmate, mind, body, heart, and soul. Ray stood across from you and stated he was happy since you were in his life, the happiest he had ever been. But why? Was the man obsessed simply because you were you or was there a piece of the puzzle you were missing?

“That’s not for me to tell, but I can say he’s devoted to you and you only.” He glanced down the hall again before he straightened up. Was there something for Bucky to tell you then? “Be angry with me if you wish, but know that I’m not just looking out for my boss now. I’m looking out for you, too. We all will.”

You heard Bucky’s footsteps as he walked toward you, but your eyes remained on his bodyguard. “Okay,” you whispered. Ray wasn’t going to help you any further. Not tonight.

Bucky stood in front of you, effectively blocking your view of Ray. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“I hope Hal isn’t in any sort of trouble,” you said.

Bucky gave you a wolfish smile, energy buzzing around him. “Not at all. In fact, I’m giving him a raise,” he said, slipping his arm back around you. What did the bartender tell him exactly and what did he do in response? “I do want to warn you before we go in, they may stare since they’re not used to meetings like this.”

“What, they’re not used to you having someone on your arm?” You asked. You found that hard to believe.

“They’re not used to me having someone I’d burn the world down for,” he said proudly, nodding for Ray to open the doors. “All you’d have to do is give me the match.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, gulping when you heard the chatter and laughter inside.

Once again, you were the lamb going into the lion’s den. But you could do this. You just had to mingle a bit longer and then you could go on your way. Bucky swore he’d have you home and you’d hold him to it.

The moment Bucky took you into the office, all conversations ceased. The men appeared relaxed, like they weren't aware of or didn’t care about the aura that surrounded the man beside you. He was right though. They all stared. Including a man with a pair of blue eyes you recognized.

The man who bought tulips from your shop.

“It’s good to see you again,” Steve smiled.

With a sinking heart, you began to accept that there really was no escaping Bucky Barnes.

Sorry to cut this off before meeting the rest of the friends, but it was a natural stopping point. And we'll find out what happens to John in the next part. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[moonstruckme]

Hi omg could I request Remus comforting insecure reader who makes jokes about her looks all the time and stuff and kind of tries to avoid talking deeply about it because it actually really hurts deep down but Remus wants to address it and when he talks to her she’s like “you wouldn’t get what it’s like to be ugly you (as in Remus) have always been beautiful” ? I hope that makes sense 😭Totally understand if you don’t want to write this!

Of course you can lovely! Thank you :)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 884 words

Remus’ self control starts to fray when you discard your third outfit. 

It’s not that he’s impatient to get to the restaurant—you’ve both got plenty of time, and watching you try on clothes for him is a far from unappealing way to pass it. The issue is that you don’t seem to get how fucking phenomenal you look in all of them. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, making a face at yourself in the mirror before lifting the top over your head. It’s tossed onto the bed, where Remus picks it up to put it back on its hanger. “That color makes me look sickly.” 

“Dove,” he reprimands. “It does not.” 

“Rem,” you mimic his tone teasingly. The late afternoon light filters through the window, and he honestly isn’t sure if the glow he’s seeing is from that or from the smile you give him. “I already look like this, I don’t need to accentuate it.” 

You do that. Self-deprecate. Like it’s anticipatory, like you’re in on a joke that hasn’t been told yet. It makes Remus’ skin prickle. 

“Anyway, I’ll be with you, handsome.” You set one hand on the bed and lean over to peck him on the lips. You take the top with you as you go, hanging it back up in the closet with a nod of thanks to your boyfriend. “I’m not aiming for mind-blowingly gorgeous, but I’d like to look at least remotely in your league, if I can.” 

“You always look mind-blowingly gorgeous,” Remus says softly. His chest aches with earnestness. 

You select a different top, tossing a coy grin over your shoulder. “Thanks, honey.” 

“No, really.” He feels suddenly hot with desperation. Remus doesn’t usually get in your way like this. You make your jokes, he disagrees politely, and he lets you move on. But the need to make you hear him, to talk until you finally get it, see how obsessed he is with you, has been building. If there’s one hill he’s going to die on, he wants this to be it. “You looked lovely in that top, and in everything. You’re exquisite, dove. Do you get that?” 

Your smile falters, and you turn away. You speak into the closet, over the schwick of hangers sliding. “Exquisite.” Humor bends the syllables of the word. “You’re too sweet. Careful, or you’ll give me an ego to eclipse the sun.” 

Remus wishes, but he seriously doubts there’s any danger of that. Your perusal of the closet picks up its pace, criticism a shadowy gray cloud above your head. He stands from the bed and steps forward to wrap his arms around your waist. You still, relaxing into him automatically. 

“I don’t understand why you have to deflect like that,” he says, doing his best to sound kind even as a protective ire burns fiercely in his chest. “You’re always making these cruel jokes about yourself, and you won’t listen when I tell you how wrong you are. Why?” 

“Remus.” It’s hardly a murmur, and yet the plea is clear. “Can we drop this, please?” 

Just like that, the fire in his chest is smothered. A dull ache takes its place. “Not if you’re going to keep doing it,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. “Just tell me why, please.” 

You clasp your hands over his, seeking comfort even as you stiffen in his arms. “You wouldn't get it.” There’s no venom in your tone, but Remus hears the slight edge. “You don’t know what it’s like to be ugly, Rem. You’ve always been beautiful.” 

A laugh barks out of him, sharper than he means it to be. “I wouldn’t get it?” 

You’re quiet. He takes you by the shoulders, turning you to face him. Your eyes drop to his chin. 

“Do you really think I wouldn’t know how it feels to be insecure?” he asks. “Dove, I grew up with giant tears and scars on my face. People stare at me.” Your eyes flit up to his, shame and apology clear within them. When they go back down, Remus follows, ducking so you can’t hide from his gaze. “I understand that when you feel like something about you is ugly, no one can convince you it’s not. You have to do that on your own, pretty girl.” A flicker of emotion—discomfort, aversion, something else—passes over your face at the endearment. Remus has to swallow against the upset that clogs his throat. “But do you think you could try talking about yourself more kindly? For me, if not for you. It hurts to hear you being so cruel to someone I care about,” he says softly. 

Every line of your face is tense with discomfort at the topic, but you finally meet his eyes. Remus’ smile is reflexive. He’s not sure how you can find things not to love in this face so full of sweetness. 

“Sorry,” you say, sheepish. 

“Don’t be sorry.” He rubs your upper arms affectionately. “I know you don’t do it to spite me, darling.”

You bring your hands up around his neck, hugging him loosely. “You really are beautiful,” you murmur into his sweater. “With the scars, too. I’m not just saying that.” 

“So are you.” Remus kisses the top of your head. Someday, he’ll get you to believe it.

[awritesthings1]

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: You ask your husband Tommy if he believes in ghosts. The answer might surprise you.

Warnings: dark, angst, spooky.

ao3 link

-

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

It was near the end of winter, and another autumn of earl grey teas and tireless raking of crunchy leaves was fast approaching Arrow House. Tommy’s peaky cap lived on the coat hanger by the front door, dusted in the faint smell of smog. Gone was the silver razor; the Shelby’s were much too respectable for that anymore. In came the monogram initials, all of which had been carefully handstitched onto cuffs and collars to match golden cufflinks, and out came the fine woolen overcoats.

The weather lay thickly that year over the English countryside, enough to invoke a ghostly mist around the trimmed hedges and shorn grass. A stillness crept in as sly as a cat when the fog came down, covering all life with a sheer dew. The garden retired into a dull combination of cool greens and toe-curling crystal air.

It was at this time of year that the monsters came out to play in their ominously shaped shadows and faint howls. Where there was a tick of movement, an airy silence and childhood fear followed. Tommy would have teased you endlessly for your paranoia if he hadn’t suffered through the same fate after the war. You supposed he had more of a right than you because his fears came from a very real place, and yours were out of superstition.

“Spirits,” Tommy clarified. “Yes, it’s in my blood.”

“But have you ever seen one?”

Tommy turns his head to look at you, squeezing you closer to his chest from where you both lay under the covers.

“Why’d you ask?” His accent was thicker in the morning.

If anyone knew anything about spirits, it would be your husband. He was more superstitious than you due to his gypsy blood. The things he told you about the community were nothing short of witchcraft—charming dogs, telling fortunes, and cursing wrong'uns. It puzzled you at first that your seemingly pragmatic, calculating husband believed nothing short of Madame Boswell’s words as nothing but gospel.

You stared out the window, attempting to conjure up the right words, but shivered instead when his fingers ghosted across your back.

“Well… I don’t know. I don’t think I would believe in something until I saw it for sure with my own two eyes.”

He hummed and smiled lazily. “Why do people believe in God, hm?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged as best you could in his embrace.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Eh?”

“Have you ever seen a spirit?"

Tommy’s eyes glazed over in thought. It was the answer you dreaded.

“Yes.”

“Were you scared?”

He blinked out of the daze.

“No.”

Your hand moved to rest on the cusp of his cheek.

“What happened?”

He cleared his throat and laced his hand with yours there on his face.

“I was nine. Madame Lovell’s nephew drowned in a lake the day before, and then on the day of the funeral, it rained. I was running back from over the hill when I saw him. He stood there staring at me through the spray of rain.”

Your thumb swiped over the tops of Tommy’s cheekbones.

“You’re certain? Maybe the rain got in your eye, and what you saw was a shadow or maybe even an eyelash in your eye. That happens to me sometimes.”

“I know what I saw.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, then tried to picture the scene for yourself. You stood atop some grassy hill, peering down into the valley. Dark plumes of smoke rose from a small coffin stationed at the bottom of the hill, slivering up through the wildflowers and tree branches to where you stood. Then there, through the smoke and rainfall that blinded your eyes, was the boy who drowned.

“Was he scared?”

A pause, then: “no.”

That night, you settled by your vanity, combing out knots and patting lotion onto your skin. The haunted look of that boy Tommy said he saw lingered in the back of your mind, and every vague shape or shadow shifted in the corner of your eye. Paranoia—that's all it was. You didn’t want to be caught staring at a dark corner like some half-mad crook. Tommy would be crossing the threshold into your room any moment now. Maybe if his last-minute business hadn’t held him up in his office, he would be here with you now, and you wouldn’t be glancing over at that suspicious coat hanging up by the wardrobe. The lamps that were lit didn’t stretch far enough to illuminate the monsters from their hiding spots.

It was a trick of the brain, that’s all.

And surely enough, Tommy’s footsteps were heard down the hall. Your shoulders slumped in relief. The autumn season was only one for the dramatics.

Your hand cream pot clattered onto the vanity, swirling in circles until it came to a stop just as you heard Tommy outside the door. But when you stood to greet him with a kiss, the door to your bedroom remained closed, and the doorhandle remained still.

“You can come in!" You laughed, but a sort of coldness seized your heart with terror when you wondered why Tommy was just standing there on the other side.

“Tommy?” You inquired after a painfully thin stretch of silence.

Again, nothing.

You reached for your comb, holding the long, sharp piece you used to part your hair out like a knife. You weren’t naïve. Tommy had enemies, opportunistic ones, too.

And so you stood there, straining to hear any noise beyond your heartbeat that thundered in your ears. You tried slowing your breathing to hear better, but your eyes then began to water from the strain and your refusal to blink. Then it happened, as abruptly as you imagined. The door burst open. Tommy rushed in, slammed the door shut behind him, and stormed over to the closet without so much a look in your direction.

“Tommy?” You squawked, still seized in terror.

He grunted, shrugging on his overcoat and snatching his leather gloves from the tallboy.

“What’s going on?”

Finally, he paused. His eyes were bloodshot and far away. You feared he looked through you rather than at you. He came closer then, pulling you into his arms and laying a warm kiss on your temple.

“Everything’s ok, darling.”

“Where are you going?” Your voice broke. “Did something happen?”

“No…” He hushed. “No.”

“Then where are you going? It’s still dark outside!”

He sighed into your disheveled hair, then pulled away.

“I need to check on one of the horses. Get into bed; I’ll be back soon.”

You clutched his lapels in protest. “No!”

He said your name sternly: “I really need to go. Frances is in her room if you need anything.”

“Tommy, I heard something!” Then, you lowered your voice so only he could hear, “I think someone’s in the house.”

He pulled you in by the scruff of your neck. “No one’s here, love. It’s just us and Frances.”

His boots thud severely against the wooden floor to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Begrudgingly, you let him leave and confined yourself to the bed, pulling the covers over your face like a small child afraid of the dark. You left all the lights on, determined to let any intruders know that yes, you were home, and yes, you would see them coming. Tommy would be back soon, and if Tommy didn’t suspect anything amiss, he was probably right.

But the grandfather clock in the other room kept ticking, tick tick tick, and little fairies scampered about in the garden below. The moon’s solemn gaze glared judgingly through the windows, past the squinting shutters, and onto your skin. Ink from family portraits bled into one horrifying mess of shadows. You threw back the hungry covers, which seemed to be swallowing you whole, and knocked your shoulder into the jaw of the door (you had mistaken it for being further than it really was). A teacup flew off a shelf, but you dodged it with one ugly turn of your ankle.

Then you ran down the winding stairs, through the narrowing hallway, and out the chattering front doors of Arrow House. A lustrous mist had fallen over the land, thick enough that your arms whipped around senselessly, blinded by the clouded night, in your attempt to trek to the stables.

The stable gates were banging back and forth by the time you reached them. They whack your behind when you pass them, and you would’ve cried if it weren’t for the airy atmosphere peeling the moisture from your eyes.

“Tommy!”

A clack of hooves answered you.

Your feet burned despite the bitter cold, swelling with each step. Still in your nightgown, the elements worked together, clawing, scratching, and biting at your bare skin. The swell of a draft caught the tip of your nose, and you whipped around just in time to see a coat disappearing around the back of the stable where the paddock was.

Fear acted like a glaze of sweltering iron, hissing the rhythm out of your heart.

“I can see you!” You tried to warn as if you were the hunter and not the hunted.

Leather hands wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

“Are you insane, eh?” Tommy’s gruff voice scolded in your ear.

You turned around to crumple into his embrace.

“Tommy, something’s not right about this house.”

“Is that why you’re out here? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

It could have been a ghost, a careful soulless thing—a soundless haunting memory with no cause for action, warping around the edges of reality. It was then a great whipping lash of winter lakes and violent snowflakes cut into the lines of your knuckles and sliced beneath your skin.

Your lips moved sometime after that, or maybe it was before; you couldn’t remember. Nothing seemed to make sense. The man in the moon wound away your surroundings one by one, like a fisherman with his catch on a hook.

“What?”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what, Tommy?”

Silence held a knife to your neck.

“Out in the paddock..." His dark, long eyelashes brushed earnestly along his high-cut cheekbones, and you feared the thought that had seemingly paralyzed your husband from saying any more. If it weren’t already dark, a shadow might’ve passed over his features.

A fountain of words prepared to gush out, but you slipped on a puddle that appeared around your feet. You stepped back with a gasp. It wasn’t raining.

“I’m sorry, my love. I should’ve listened to you.”

The puddle kept growing. Words turned into water.

“What the fuck is happening, Tommy?"

His thumb brushed the apple of your cheek.

“I’ll avenge you. I will.”

You cried.

“Shhh, don’t be afraid, darling." Tommy kissed your ice-cold forehead.

You choked. Water: water pooled out of your mouth and suffocated your lungs. You couldn't breathe.

“Go back to bed for me, eh?”

All over your nightgown—water, water, water.

The horse trough out in the paddock, the goldfish swimming past your cheek, straw in your teeth, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, no response, no one, the weight of a hand tangling in your hair, air, air, air, no air.

Drip, drip, drip.

Water in your eyes, ears, nose, mouth—

You never saw them coming.

“I promise, love. I’ll get the bastards that…”

He choked as if he were also choking on water, water, water.

“I never saw them coming, Tommy,” you hiccupped, but it was all water, water, water—

“I know.”

Gurgling.

“I just wanted to find you.”

“I know, I know.”

They pinned your arms back.

“The fucking water trough, Tommy!”

He swallowed painfully.

You couldn’t see him anymore. His face had washed away in your straw, goldfish, blood, water, water, water, tears. Blindly, you traced under his eyes and felt his salty, grief, widowed, water tears.

There’s so much tears and sorrow there in that stable that it begins pouring from outside and through the roof. Most days it was in the paddock, but tonight it was here.

Frances, the housekeeper, watched from her window. On these types of nights, when Arrow House became entrapped in a spell and rain drizzled over the countryside, Thomas Shelby would squelch across the overgrown grass to the paddock behind the stable before disappearing. Where he went, she didn’t know. The hazy sheet of mist left much to the imagination. What he saw out there? She didn’t know either. The poor bastard probably just missed his wife.

Frances briefly left her room to peer into Mr. Shelby’s. Letting out a sigh of relief, the room appeared untouched, still frozen in the state Mrs. Shelby left it when she went out to find her husband that tragic night. The sheets were still tossed aside, the teacup still shattered on the ground, her comb still waiting on the bedside table.

Satisfied with her findings, she turned to leave when—

What’s that?

A puddle.

There must be a leak somewhere.

Oh well, she’ll see to it in the morning.

With that, she quietly crept away to her room and fell back asleep, undisturbed by the chattering shutters or creaking floorboards. Not even the ghostly cries down the hall woke her.

After all, there was no such thing as ghosts, only things that went bump in the night.

-

Taglist: @maliceofwonderland , @fairytale07 , @goblinjnr , @ilovepeoplesdads , @multidimensionalslut , @blogforficslol

[theemporium]

hey bestie, smut prompt 22 for stiles? 🙂

22. “can you feel what your doing to me”

.

It was an incredibly stupid plan—but then again, when wasn’t it when it came to the pack of Beacon Hills?

You couldn’t exactly remember what had led you into this situation, or how you and Stiles got the short-end of the stick to be volunteered into it. But what you did remember was Derek rambling about hunters having a sixth sense for supernatural beings in close vicinity so—as the only two humans in the pack—you and Stiles were thrown in the deep end. 

And now the deep end meant hiding in a really small closet whilst some of the deadliest hunters stood in the room just before you. 

“Can you stop moving? They will hear you rustling.” 

“I can’t!” 

“Oh my god.” 

You were pressed against the door, using a small crack to watch the hunters in the room. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but the tables of weapons spread out in front of them was intimidating enough. 

“I’m serious, stop wiggling,” Stiles hissed from behind you, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Stiles, I can’t,” you hissed back at him. “If you move the hanger that is poking me, maybe I’ll fucking stop.” 

There was a pause before the boy spoke. 

“That’s not a hanger.” 

Your body tensed for a few moments as the boy’s words ran through your head, taking you a few moments to really process his words before you felt your cheeks heating up. 

“Stiles—” 

“I can’t control it,” he grumbled from behind you, letting out a small groan when you tried to move away again, only to push your ass further against him. “Fuck, don’t do that. Can you feel what you're doing to me?” 

“I’m trying to help!” you whisper-yelled under your breath.

“That’s the opposite of helping,” Stiles groaned into your ear, biting down on his lip. His hands found your waist, gripping it tightly in hopes of making you stay still. “Just…stop.”

Your heart was thundering in your chest, your lungs feeling like they were on fire and the last thing you should be focusing on was Stiles’ dick pressing into your ass when your lives were quite literally in danger. 

And yet, it was your only focus. 

Maybe you could blame it on the adrenaline pumping through your body at the risk of getting caught. Maybe you could blame it on a temporary lapse of judgement. Maybe you could even blame it on the crush you had been harbouring for the boy for ages.

Or maybe, you wouldn’t really need a reason as you pushed your ass back into him, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Shit,” Stiles hissed through clenched teeth and gripped your waist harder. “What are you doing?” 

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help,” you murmured as your arms wound behind your, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaned against your shoulder. “Just keep quiet, Stiles.” 

“Fuck,” he moaned against your shoulder as he began to grind his hip against your ass, something about the action so needy and desperate, and yet it set your whole body on fire. 

Your hands dropped to cover his, slowly guiding them up until they were cupping your tits over your shirts, a pathetic whine leaving the boy’s lips as he continued to rut against your ass. It didn’t take long for muffled curses to leave his lips as he finally came. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathlessly chanted as you continued to circle your ass against him, even when he let out a small whine. “I-I can’t, it’s too much.” 

“Such a good boy, Stiles,” you whispered in the closet knowing you still had to find a way out before your luck ran out. “Such a good boy for me.” 

“Just for you,” he whispered, face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he squeezed your tits, listening to the soft mewls you let out as you both desperately tried to keep your cover from being blown.

.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

and another list of "troublesome" words

tumult, turmoil

Both describe confusion and agitation.

The difference is that tumult - applies only to people but

turmoil - applies to both people and things.

Tumultuous, however, can describe things as well as people (“tumultuous applause,” “tumultuous seas”).

use, usage

Usage - normally appears only in the context of formal practices, particularly in regard to linguistics (“modern English usage”),

and use - does duty for all other senses,

but most dictionaries recognize the words as interchangeable in nearly all contexts.

utilize

In its strictest sense, utilize means to make the best use of something that wasn’t intended for the job (“He utilized a coat hanger to repair his automobile”).

It can be legitimately extended to mean making the most practical use of something (“Although the hills were steep, the rice farmers utilized every square inch of the land”),

but in all other senses use is better.

venal, venial

Venial - from the Latin venialis (“forgivable”), means excusable; a venial sin is a minor one.

Venal - corruptible. It comes from the Latin venalis (“for sale”) and describes someone who is capable of being bought.

venerate, worship

Although in figurative senses the words are interchangeable,

in religious contexts worship should apply only to God.

Roman Catholics, for instance, worship God but venerate saints.

very

should be made to pay its way in sentences.

Too often it is used where it adds nothing to sense (“It was a very tragic death”)

or is inserted in a futile effort to prop up a weak word that should be replaced by something with more punch (“The play was very good”).

vitreous, vitriform

Vitreous - describes something made, or that has the quality, of glass

Vitriform - to have the appearance of glass

vocal cords

Not to be confused with chords (groups of musical notes), as happens all too often:

“Understudy Nancy Ringham will play opposite Rex Harrison because Miss Kennedy has problems with her vocal chords” (Evening Standard).

Vocal cords - are so called because of their shape and structure, not because of their tonal qualities.

Source ⚜ More: On Vocabulary ⚜ Writing Basics ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝟹 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 😭👍🏾…˚*��� ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟸𝟽𝟻

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙺𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 🥊❤️

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎 🥨💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙷𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜…𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚙𝚝. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎…𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Maddie almost fully leaped out of her spot on the bed her and her husband shared as she suddenly awoke, her eyes darting around the room before taking a deep breath, relaxing herself. 

She didn’t need to use the bathroom…

And she made sure all of the kids (+ Ozzie) were in their beds…

So why did she feel so…uneasy?

Tom broke through his sleep at the sudden movement from his wife, holding her hand as he rubbed it with his thumb gently, “Everything okay, love?” He mumbled out groggily. 

Maddie couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at her husband’s sleepy voice, giving his hand a quick kiss as she got up from the bed, “I’m fine, babe. I just…I-I just…” She trailed off.

The cop yawned, raising a brow, “Having those random feelings of uneasiness again?” 

The woman in purple pajamas nodded. 

“Gonna go check up on our kids?”

She nodded once more.

“M'kay…” The famous Donut Lord yawned, drifting back to sleep, “Just call me if you need anything…” He mumbled as he closed his eyes and snored like no tomorrow.

Maddie rolled her eyes fondly, putting on her fluffy purple robe that was hoisted on a clothing hanger as put on her house slippers, going upstairs to the attic. 

The nurse quietly made her way to the attic, her heart racing with a sort of…adrenaline as she made her way to the beds…

…Although, she didn’t know why.

First, she made her way to Tails' bed, who, was soundly sleeping peacefully underneath his blankets. Maddie kissed his forehead, adjusting his noise canceling headphones on his ears as she further tucked him in as she made her way to Sonic…

And ohhhhhh, Sonic…

The kid was basically sprawled along his bed like a used up rag-doll…

…Which, Maddie didn’t know whether to mark it off as concerning or impressive. 

Maybe both.

The adult wrapped the blue hedgehog in his favorite blanket, kissing his forehead and subtly giggling as she saw him smile in his sleep at the kiss.

Lastly, she made her Knuckles' bed…

…That was missing, well…Knuckles. 

The woman took a deep breath, taking her phone out of her robe pocket as she tried to calm herself. 

He was going to absolutely GET IT if he went out 'adventuring' again. 

Maddie could not handle another week asking random people in Green Hills of the red echidna’s whereabout’s…

…Her heart just could not take that amount of stress anymore!

And if Wade was even the SLIGHTEST bit responsible he was going to GET IT too.

The brown eyed human made her way downstairs, relief washing over her as she saw the back quills of a familiar red fellow sitting at the bottom of the stairs that led to the kitchen. 

“…Knuckles?” She quietly said. 

The echidna swiftly turned around at the woman’s words, his pupils sharpening before softening upon realizing who was behind him. 

As he met her concerned yet loving gaze, he looked away, focusing on the wooden floor as if it was the most interesting thing as of right now.

Well…at least it was just Madeline. 

Or 'Pretzel Woman' as the red themed teenager liked to call her.

It honestly could have been way worse…

…The blue themed hedgehog could have awoken instead of Maddie…

…And that would have been a whole other problem Knuckles did not have the time or patience for. 

The teenager forced himself to relax slightly, his shoulders still tense in case of anything or…anyonedeciding to…surprise him.

Because he was an echidna warrior! He simply just did not get sneaked up on. 

“Pretzel Woman.” He hummed, “I would not have expected you to be awake at such hours…” 

“I wish I could say the same for you, sweetheart…” The 'Pretzel Woman' in question chuckled lightly, coming down and sitting on the stair the small teen was stifly sitting on, “What are you doing up, love?”

“I am keeping watch.” Knuckles stated simply, his seating spot remaining on the steps but his eyes darting in every which way around the house, seeming to look for a nonexistent threat. 

Or grapes. Those he will always look out for.

“Did…I wake you?” His violet eyes morphing into one of guilt, “I am sorry if that is the case…I tried to be as silent as possible whilst scouting this evening.” 

“No no! Not at all.” Maddie quickly assured, “I-I just…had a certain…feeling to get up, y'know?” 

But Knuckles did not know, only quietly nodding his head as he tried to make sense of what the chocolate eyed human was stating, “…I see.” He hummed once more, now looking up as he peered on the outside door, his eye ridges creasing together. 

Maddie fiddled with her fingers anxiously, not appreciating the sudden silence as she tried to collect her thoughts to think of what to say next.

Because, truth be told…Knuckles has been doing this…'guarding' business ever since he came to live in Green Hills. 

And it was somewhat nice the first week…

A tad bit jarring the second week…

But now it was the third week. 

And Maddie cannot recall one time she has seen Knuckles shut his eyes for more than a second.

“You are distressed.” The short teenager concluded bluntly, observing Maddie’s facial expression and body language, “Are you perhaps…cold?” 

The woman let a small smile strech to her features at that, “I’m not cold, sweetheart. But thank you for your concern.” She said gently, resting her hand on the teenager’s shoulder but drawing it back as the teeanger in question stifened further at the sudden contact. 

“But…I am worried.” The purple cladded woman stated, well…worriedly as she put her hands on her lap. 

The fifteen year old’s eye ridges knitted together in slight confusion, letting out a small: “Oh.” 

He looked up at her, “Why is that?”

The nurse started, “You’ve been staying up—”

“Scouting.” Knuckles politely corrected.

“—scouting…” She corrected herself, “…for three weeks straight, Knux. Aren’t you tired?”

“No.” The violet eyed teen uttered, “An echidna warrior is only tired when they need be. Which, I am not.” He stated, ironically burying back a small yawn that was bubbling in his throat.

Which, did not go unnoticed by Maddie. 

“Everyone gets tired eventually…” The human said, “It’s not healthy to just…skip sleep, hun. It’s not good for you.” 

“Only I know what is good and what is not good for me, Pretzel Woman.” The red echidna huffed, completely brushing off the other’s concern, “I will sleep when my duty is done.”

“Your…'duty?'” Maddie repeated.

Knuckles nodded, putting his right fist on his chest as he spoke, “I have promised you, the Lord of the Donuts, the loud hedgehog and the anxious fox to guard the Master Emerald, yes?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And I have also promised to protect you all.” He announced proudly and matter-of-factly, “A protector never rests.” 

“Hun…I think we’ve proven we’re more than capable at protecting ourselves.” The human lightly joked as she almost immediately regretted her statement and tone as she saw the teen’s expression shift from proud to…distress. 

And there it is...

…You have such a wonderful way of words, Madeline…

…SUCH a wonderful way with words…

A flash of hurt made their way through Knuckles' eyes, though, he tried to hide it as we looked away, glaring at the floor slightly he hugged himself, which made the human feel even more guilty, “…I…I am aware of that fact.”

And immediately the adult started to backtrack at the teenager’s now almost distraught and downtrodden expression, “I-It’s not that we don’t appreciate it— appreciate you, love. I just don’t want you collapsing randomly one day because you’re staying up every single night keeping watch of us and the house.”

“I do not collapse.” The kid said in an almost defensive-like tone, “And when I eventually will, I would gladly do so knowing I have protected you all to the fullest.” 

And right then and there Maddie could have sworn she felt her heart stop at that, feeling the smallest twinge of lightheadedness as she curled her fingers, forming fists on her lap. 

“No!” The human shouted, lowering her voice as she realized she yelled a tad bit too loudly, making Knuckles flinch slightly at the sudden exclamation, “No no no! Knuckles, where is this coming from?!” 

The nurse pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stay calm but found it really difficult due to the fact one of her kids openly stated he would be fine literally DYING if it meant he would fulfill his 'duty', “I don’t want you staying up guarding, scouting— whatever you call it! I just don’t want you doing any of those things!” 

The echidna’s face morphed to a frown, “But—“

“No, Knux…” Maddie said, her tone leaving no room for argument…

…The 'Mother voice' if you will…

“This is the last time you’re doing something like this. End of story.” The purple cladded human said, crossing her arms across her chest.

And then again, there was…a small silence that fell between the two. 

A silence neither of them liked at all. 

But the air was too thick with…all of a sudden tension that they both stayed quiet, in fear they would say the wrong thing…

…Again.

But eventually, the red echidna couldn’t take the silence; couldn’t take the tension any longer. 

He looked at the figure in front of him once more, fixing his composure to appear more confident…but ultimately just appearing to be straight up panic-stricken. 

“Then what can I do…?” He mumbled out meekly.

Maddie’s hands dropped to her sides, her eyebrows creasing together, “…What…do you mean?”

“To…To repay you all.” The violet eyed teenager further explained, mentally punching himself for sounding so completely and utterly…weak, “To make up for what I’ve done previously. T-To…guarntee my stay in the Wachowski clan.”

And those words alone spoke measures. 

The nurse’s heart might of well dropped all the way to the floor, because all of a sudden she felt like she could not breathe. 

She puts Knuckles' hand in hers, even though the echidna’s hand was obviously and ultimately TWICE her hand size…she didn’t care.

For crying out loud this was her son.

And she would never ever forgive herself if after this he would continue to think otherwise.

Then…

…Everything clicked. 

“…Sweetheart…did you…d-did you think we were going to…kick you out…?” She asked as if she already knew the answer, afraid of what the other would say. 

The short teenager picked up quickly that Maddie somehow knew now, guilt almost immediately hitting him like a train as he hugged himself with his free hand, looking down at his lap, “Yes.” He admitted, hugging himself more as he saw the other start to become teary eyed, “Before coming here to the Wachowski residance…I was responsible for so many casualties…” He muttered, “…I still am.”

The teenager’s tail droops, bringing his fist to his face to try and hide his also now tearing up expression, “I helped Robotnik seize control of your town and almost the entire planet…” 

“…I-If I had just listened to Sonic…your house would not still be under repair. You and the Lord of Donuts would not have to call that 'Uber' you always speak of every morning to simply go to your designated jobs!” He yelled, not really caring if anyone else besides Maddie heard him at this point.

“Growing up, my Father always told me to never put my hands on someone else unless they did so to me first…” He murmured, a hint of fondness in his tone speaking of his as of late Father.   

“I broke that promise when I met Sonic.” He mumbled out, ignoring the feelings of his eyes starting to become more wet, “But…B-But above all else…all my Father wanted for me was for me to be a good person…”

Knuckles let out a small sob, harshly wiping his face as his shoulder hung low…

…Out of hatred or frustration…? 

Maybe a little bit of both…? 

Maddie wasn’t sure.

“A-And I promised him. I swore on my life I would live by those two promises…” The small echidna hiccuped, yanking his arm away from the human as he gripped his arm with one hand until he couldn’t feel it anymore, “A-And I f-failed those two simple oaths b-by j-j-just acting so f-foolish…” 

The taller figure watched the other shake with sobs, swiftly scooting closer to him as she gently held his wrists to stop him from further hurting himself.  

“Oh, sweetheart…” She mumbled, her heart heavy as she saw the teenager duck his head further, “Hey…hey…” Maddie whispered, cupping the echidna’s face in her palms.

And to be completely honest? Knuckles wanted to hurt himself further as he did nothing but melt to the small but impactful form of affection…

“Can you look at me?” The nurse carefully asked. 

Knuckles quietly looked at her, his face scrunched up to try and attempt to stop the tears freely flowing down his cheeks like a waterfall. 

Maddie sighed sadly, wiping his tears with her thumb as she gently rubbed his cheeks, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He shakily nodded.

“You are a good person.” She emphasized sternly, “One mistake that you made doesn’t automatically define your worth.”

“This…” She said, gesturing to herself and Knuckles. “…is not a transaction. We are giving you a room to sleep in because we love you. We are giving you clothes to wear because we love you. We are giving you food to eat because we love you…”

“…Even though I would prefer you eat something other than grapes.” She tried to joke, which ended up finally working very effectively as she saw a small but genuine smile appear on the echidna’s face.

Knuckles couldn’t help but let out a soft snort, rolling his eyes before focusing on Maddie once again, “My grapes have nothing to do with this…” 

“And I do also consume Cool Ranch Doritos from time to time…” The teen mumbled, “So saying I onlyeat grapes is inaccurate.” 

The nurse gently squished his cheek playfully, “And this?” She gestured as she wiped away his tears once again, “Is because I love you. Not because I’m expecting something in return.” She explained as she now put his hands in her’s as if the size meant nothing to her…

…Because it didn’t.

“Robotnik tricked you. He tricked you into thinking he was a nice man. That isn’t your fault.” The human sternly announced once again. 

The red furred echidna shook his head, “But I endangered everyone—”

“—But you also saved everyone.” The purple pajama wearing woman quickly added, “You tried to fix your mistakes…don’t think I didn’t see you punching those egg robot thingies, hun. You weren’t messing around.” 

“I am not prone to be one who 'messes around…'” He said, his eyes almost jumping out of their sockets as Maddie planted a small kiss on his forehead.

“And that? That is because…” She gently urged on.

“You…Y-You love me...” Knuckles finished, almost choking on his own words, before lightly pushing her away in an attempt to get her to leave…

…Because she would eventually…

…Right?

“…Y-You hardly even know me.” The violet eyed echidna whispered, looking up at the taller figure as she gently bumped her shoulder with his.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t love you.” Maddie exclaimed as she smiled warmly, the warmness somehow making its way to the echidna warrior as his heart fluttered in his chest.

A small, subtle blush appeared on his muzzle as he looked away, trying to hide his expression. 

He cleared his throat, “I…suppose that is true, Pretzel Woman…”

“Just 'Maddie' is fine, sweetie.”

The fifteen year old swallowed, wiping his eyes with his arm as he finally looked at the taller.

And if Maddie squinted…she was almost 100% sure she saw a small sparkle in the child’s eyes. 

“Alright…Maddie.” The teenager announced shyly but proudly, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

The nurse had to keep in literally every single fiber in her body to stop herself from squealing like a high-school preppy girl. 

“You don’t owe us anything…okay?” The brown eyed woman stated, “You’re apart of a family, Knux. And one doesn’t protect the whole family…we all protect each other.” She rubbed Knuckles' knuckles gently and comfortingly with her thumb, “You’re a Wachowski. And the Wachowski’s stick together.”

And just like that, another silence fell among the two…although, this one was less tense which Maddie could not be more grateful for. 

But the nurse couldn’t shake the feeling that something was being left…unsaid and undone.

And if you knew her…you knew dang well those two words were just simply not apart of her dictionary. 

“May I give you a hug?” She asked somewhat hesitantly, but couldn’t stop the smile spreading to her face as she saw the echidna perk up at the mention. 

The red echidna collected himself, clearing his throat again as he glanced up at her, “You may.” 

The human wrapped the echidna in her arms, her smile doubling in size as she felt the teen wrap his own arms around her…somewhat stifly and awkwardly. 

But hey, he was trying.

“I love you, Knux.” The chocolate eyed woman hummed, “And you don’t have to say it back if you aren’t ready.” 

The violet eyed echidna nodded, shyly burying his face into the other’s shoulder as they continued to embrace.

“Do you…want to go back to your room…?” Maddie asked in a tone signifying she was alright with a 'yes' or a 'no'. 

The warrior only held Maddie tighter at that, shaking his head as he buried his face into her shoulder harder, “In…I-In a little bit…” He answered honestly, “I do not want to go just yet…” 

“That’s fine.” The human assured, “How about…we stay on the couch for a while? I bet it’s way more comfy than these old stairs.”

The red furred echidna nodded, “…Alright.” 

He followed the taller to the living room, sitting on the couch as she did, watching her as she flipped through the channels.

“You okay with watching 'F.R.I.E.N.D.S.?'” The woman asked as she flipped to the Nick-at-Nite channel, relaxing on the couch cushion. 

“I am very fond of my companions, yes.” The young warrior nodded, resting his eyes on the TV as this so called….'F.R.I.E.N.D.S.' show started to play.

The two sat on the couch for a while, small chuckles and snickers being shared as they reacted to the show in front of them. 

Knuckles yawned, crossing his arms as he rested his head on Maddie’s arm which the older did not pay any mind to, subconsciously scratching his quills.

The younger’s eyes widened, not moving away from the touch but seeming genuinely shocked by it, “What are you doing?”

At that, the human quickly drew her hand away.

Shit.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” She said apologetically, cursing herself for making it seem like she was trying to rush him with anything…

“It’s just a thing I do with Sonic and Tails— they find it calming. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. It’s just…kind of an instinct…” Maddie said to Knuckles as he looked down, fiddling with his gloved fingers as he looked anywhere but the person beside him, “You do not…have to stop if you do not wish.” He admitted quietly, “It feels nice…”

The nurse tried (and failed) to hide yet another dorky grin that spread to her face as she gently ruffled Knuckles quills once more, cooing on the inside as the echidna subtly leaned into the touch, trying his absolute best to concentrate on the television but obviously clearly enjoying the affection as his tail wagged softly against the couch. 

As the TV ran, Maddie moved her hand to scratch where Knuckles' ears would be and the young warrior absolutely melted at the new touch, his tail wagging faster.

The purple cladded woman fondly smiled at the reaction, moving her fingers to gently scratch the back of the echidna’s neck but nothing would have prepared her for the loud shriek the teenager let out as she did so.

The violet eyed fifteen year old covered his mouth in shock as the human retreated her hand back, her face morphing to worry once more, “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

The echidna swallowed, not even trying to hide the small blush that appeared on his muzzle now as he put his hand to the side, “I-I am…uninjured.” He said as calmly as he could muster, “I apologize for startling you…I also startled myself…” 

“It’s okay, sweetheart…” The purple cladded human said, “…But what happened?”

“I am…not sure.” Knuckles explained as he rubbed the back of his neck as if to redo the feeling he just felt, “You touched the back of my neck and it felt…odd.” 

“Odd?” Maddie repeated. 

“Odd.” Knuckles said again.

The nurse raised a curious brow, lightly poking the red furred echidna where she was once scratching him as he burst into surprised and confused giggles.

The fifteen year old shook his head back and forth, scrunching up his shoulders as he lightly tried to pry the other’s hand away.

What…was this?

And why did it make him feel so…giddy and carefree?!

“C-Cease thihis s-sohorcery ahahat once!” The violet eyed echidna giggly demanded, hugging himself and falling down on the couch, “Ceeheease ceeheease ceeheeheeheease!!” He snickered as Maddie gently started to spider her finger nails along his sides. 

“It isn’t sorcery, love. Your just ticklish.” The adult chuckled, putting one and one together. 

“N-Nohohoh Ihi ahahaham nohot!” The red furred teen denied through his chorus of laughs, “Ahan ehechidna waharrior woHOULD neHEHEver hahave suhuHUCH AHA c-chihildish weeheeakness!” 

“Really?” Maddie smiled, intrigued as she gently prodded the other’s lower ribs, causing the other in question to automatically jerk, throwing his head back as he buried his heels in the couches cushions, “NOHOH thIHIs ihihis CHIHIHILDIHISH!!” He desperately squealed. 

The woman in purple pajamas couldn’t help the small coo she let out at the teenager’s adorable reactions…

…And Knuckles didn’t even need to look at her to know she found his once-in-a-full-moon flustered expression very amusing.

“Awe, Knux…” The nurse lightly teased as her fingers continued their ticklish torment on the echidna’s ribs. 

“NOHOH— snrk! DOHOHON’T!!” The echidna in question cried as his cheeks started to match his fur color, internally cursing his natural body movements as his tail wagged happily once more.

“Don’t what~? Don’t tickle you?” Maddie sweetly asked, only receiving a small but LOUD snort from the other as she moved down to gently scratch along his stomach, “Looks like I found a bad spot, huh, bud~?”

“IHIHIT IHISN’T snrt BAHAD!!” The teen insisted, banging his fists on the couch, “IHAT JUHAH—! SNRT! JUHUST FEEHEELS OHODD!!”

“Interesting…” The adult hummed, pretending she was pondering something as he dug her hand’s into the violet eyed echidna’s underarms, wincing slightly as he let out a sharp scream before descending into loud cackles.

“This feel odd too?” She asked innocently. 

“IHIHAT’S snrt snrt EEHEEVEN WOHOHORSE!!!” Knuckles laughed, “G-GEHAT snrt AHAHOUT OHOF THERE!” 

“Get out of where~?”

“THEHEHEHERE!” The teen quickly retorted, trying to gesture to his underarm but anytime he tried to the other would just simply make her touches even lighter, “MAHADDIE DAHAHON’T AHACT snrt STUPID!” 

“'Stupid~?'” The nurse dramatically gasped, “And here I thought we bonded!” She huffed as she fluttered her fingers in the crooks of the teen’s neck and under his chin.

And truth be told…Knuckles was absolutely, positively embarrassed of this whole ordeal.

And to be honest…he could have gotten up anytime he wanted…

…But he didn’t.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel such…happiness and carefreeness ever again…

…But it’s like Sonic always said…

'Hope is a hedgehog’s greatest weapon.' 

“SNRT! NOHOH!! STOHOP SNRT IHAT!!!” The echidna wheezed out, his legs frantically kicking behind Maddie.

“Guess this is your sweet spot…” The woman smiled brightly. 

“NAHAHAH! SNRT! NOHAHOTHING AHABOHOUT SNRT SNRT MY NECK IHIHIS SWEEHEEHEET!!!” The young warrior cackled loudly, tears welling up in his eyes…

…And for the first time in…well, forever…they were happy ones. 

“AHALRIGHT!! AHAHALRIHIGHT!!!” He relented, lightly pushing on her hands, “IHI SURRENDER! IHIHIHI SURRENDER!!” 

And just like that Maddie immediately let up, sitting back as Knuckles let out a couple more aftermath giggles.

“You okay, baby?” The human asked, wiping away the rest of his happy tears. 

“Y-Yehes. I aham snrt fine…” The red echidna hummed, sitting back on the couch as he layed his head on the figure’s shoulder again. 

“Thank you, Mo—“ Knuckles' eyes widened, quickly catching his slip-up, “M-Maddie. Maddie. Thank you, Maddie.” He exclaimed quickly, quietly praying to his echidna ancestors that the purple pajama wearing woman did not catch his mistake.

But judging by her wide eyes and agape mouth…she most likely did.

“Uhm…I-I must go to my sleeping quarters now…g-goodnight.” Knuckles stammered under his breath quickly and quiety, not waiting for the other to give an answer as he basically sprinted to the attic, quietly closing the door to not disturb his brothers whom were soundly fast asleep. 

Maddie slowly got out of her state of shock, her heart basically leaping out of her chest as she fondly smiled, shutting off all the lights in the living room and kitchen before taking one small glance at the closed attic door.

She felt…so warm and…so fuzzy…

Instead of her heart dropping…she honestly felt like it just soared to heaven. 

“Goodnight, son.” She whispered, wiping her eyes as she slipped into her and Tom’s bedroom, going under the covers next to her husband and going back to sleep. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[autisticisopod]

After like a week, I finally cut the metal and chiseled the lads out! It's not super clean because it's my first time working with metal like this, but I'm still really happy with it. Now I just need to forge the hooks and cut the wood base for it. (Also sorry the image is garbage, I couldn't get great lighting.)

[odinsblog]

“How do you enjoy life as the world burns? When the planet is on fire, and the country is falling apart, and the cops shoot another teenager, and half your neighbors are getting evicted or deported, and Bill Maher is still speaking out loud on television, what do you do? I go to the water park with my nephew Miles.

Miles is 12 years old. He is a brilliant, bow-legged troublemaker. I love him despite the fact that he's 12 and still has a rat tail. It's really not that cute anymore, dude. We're not related by blood, but Miles' dad, Kevin, is like a brother to me. So Miles calls me Uncle Josh.

Uncle Josh, when are we going to the Warriors game? Uncle Josh, will you show me how to open that car with a hanger again? Uncle Josh, Uncle Josh, since I'm half Black and half Asian, does that make me Blazian? No, Miles, that makes you Oakland.

It's August, and it's hot, which for the Bay Area, means anything above 67. Today, it's 91. I'm over at Kevin and Miles' place, sitting in no AC, in our tank tops and boxers, watching Key and Peele.

I say, guys, we gotta go somewhere to cool off. Cooler than the movie theater, cooler than the mall, I'm gonna take us to East Bay's water world. Miles' face lights up. But then Kevin says, I don't know you guys. I mean, those water parks, you know, they're so wasteful.

My man Kevin is the worst kind of Bay Area environmentalist. He's that type of dude who will come over your house and use the bathroom, not flush, but instead write a note on your toilet paper telling you how much water he just saved you. That's a true story.

I say, Kevin, it's so hot out here, I could fry an egg on your face, which I will if we don't go to East Bay Water World. Miles says, please dad. I say, please dad.

Kevin says, fine. Go have fun at the park, but take my car. It's a hybrid.

I grab the keys and soon me and Miles are driving through Oakland. We pass by the Trilingual Liquor Store, the farmer's market that accepts food stamps and we make our way through the tunnel and the hills. We emerge on the other side in the valley.

The further we get from the coast, the ground is drier and drier, browner and browner. The only green is the manicured lawns of the suburbs, the golf courses, the empty field of the sprawling county jail. And then we see it and we arrive at our Mecca, our oasis in the California desert, East Bay Water World. And it's even more beautiful than I imagined. There's four wave pools, there's a 50-foot water park, the air smells like chlorine and sunscreen and funnel cake. Delicious.

Miles' mouth is wide, staring at all these things he's never seen before. Carnival games, Dippin Dots, girls in bikinis, Uncle Josh, this place is awesome. I know, Miles. I know.

We go and we jump in the wave pool, we float down the lazy river, we spin through the whitewater rapids until we're totally drenched, grinning ear to ear and surprisingly thirsty. So I go to the funnel cake vendor for something to drink.

Can I get a bottle of water, please? He says, no problem. That'll be $7. $7 for a bottle of water? He looks at the bottle. It says, and he literally read off the bottle, it says this here is bottled and purified up near Lake Tahoe.

This is California water. California water. I buy two bottles and walk back to where Miles is pointing up towards the sky. I follow his gaze and then I see it. There, staring down at us from the tallest point in the park is the biggest water slide I've ever seen. The tallest slide in Northern California, the Annihilator.

The Annihilator is a seven-story, 80-foot freefall drop down all in just under five seconds. It's one of those slides that's so vertical, your back comes off the ride when you go down, so you feel like if you lean over just a little bit, you're done. It's the type of slide that's illegal in 27 states and most of the European Union, but hey, this is California.

I look and see Miles. His mouth is watering in anticipation. We go and get in line.

Now, the worst part of the Annihilator isn't the ride down. That's only five seconds. The worst part is the 30-minute wait in line, standing in the stairs watching and hearing every kid go down the slide, hearing every scream, every shriek, every, oh, sweet baby, Purple Jesus. The That's a direct quote from a nine-year-old. Shout out to Purple Jesus.

Miles is nervous. His hand is clenching the railing. Uncle Josh, is this thing safe?

Before I can answer, I hear a voice shouting from the top of the stairs, Hands up! Put your hands up!

Hands up!

It's the lifeguard, a tall white teenager in red shorts. He's yelling at the girl about to go down the slide. I'm telling you, it's way more fun if you put your hands up.

And the words hit me like a tsunami. It's August, two weeks after Ferguson, after Mike Brown. After those words, hands up became the calling cry for a movement.

In Missouri, people are putting their hands up to protest the police murdering another black boy in America. In California, I'm watching kids put their hands up as they go down a water slide called the Annihilator, and my nephew asks me if it's safe here. It's August in America.

In Detroit, they're shutting off poor people's water. California is suffocating of thirst. Half of my friends are putting buckets of ice over their faces on Facebook. Israel is bombing water treatment plants in Gaza, and in America, we have water parks in the desert. Industrial Almond Farms in the desert, prisons in the desert, my family, me and my nephew right here in the desert looking for anything that could be called an oasis. And Miles asked me if it's safe here.

What am I supposed to tell him?

I don't want to lie to my nephew. I want him to know that yes, some people will always see him as a threat, but I also want him to laugh and play and go get on this crazy ass waterslide.

How do you enjoy life as the world is burning? How do you teach your nephew to hate the park but love the ride? The thing is called the Annihilator. I think it might be trying to tell us something.

And now we're next in line. A girl with blonde pigtails is shaking her head. The lifeguard says, it's okay, you don't have to do it.

She backs away and now Miles is up.

He steps to the edge of the slide, puts his feet in the rushing water.

I can see the brown hills in the distance, Oakland and all its beautiful contradictions waiting on the other side. I wave at Miles, say, you got this. You got this, dude.

And he waves back at me, and when he does, he lets go of the railing. His hand shoots up in the air and the rushing water carries him away. He lets go. He shoots out and disappears over the edge. My nephew!

I rush to the side and look over, and there's Miles at the bottom of the slide, safe and alive and pulling up his bathing suit. He jumps up and runs to get back in line, and the cycle continues. Water, blood, life, death, and maybe rebirth.

I'm still on the top platform of the slide.

I walk to the edge, look down at California, lift my hands, and let go.”

—Mr. Josh Healey

[hazbinshusk]

Hi, how about some spicy headcanons of Husk and how he was different in sex as Overlord and currently

I don't really do headcanon posts, but here are some of the ideas I have about the differences between the two sides of husk:

as an overlord, husk was able to indulge pretty much any sexual whim he had on any given night. between the hangers-on and the dancers at the casino and the fact that he could definitely afford to spend his nights with anyone on Valentino's books that he wanted, he was rarely short of company if he so desired.

I do think that husk, even then, would get tired of casual sex - he might not (let himself) realize why, but he'd prefer seeing the same people rather than nameless faces every night. he was more likely to book time on nights that aren't going his way, and nights he's living large and winning big, then he's bringing familiar faces back to his suite.

like I said, as an overlord, husk is able to sample any kind of kink he wants. he's heavier into bdsm, and he values being the dominant. call him 'sir', 'master', 'daddy'... oh, he's going to make you feel so good.

I think he's a little more selfish in the bedroom as an overlord - because he's high on the power trip and because if he's selfish it's easier for no one involved to get attached, but I also think that husk genuinely gets off on his partners getting off, so he's still going to want to see his partner cum. if that means them jerking themselves off or playing with their clit while he fucks them, then abosolutely.

I think he was a little more careless when it came to hurting partners - he wasn't violent - but he probably didn't check in so often. it was completely normal for his partners to leave the next day with claw or bite marks or hickeys, even bruising from spanking or breathplay, and he loves seeing those marks peaking out of their clothes. Some of his newer lovers wear them like badges of honor - the latest beauty to spend the night with the gambling overlord.

honestly, he tricked himself into believing his relationships meant more to those he saw regularly than they did. there were a few that he let himself feel a real connection to, let himself open up with and he genuinely thought that they might feel that connection too.

now, husk is more reserved. when he lost his status as an overlord, he had the horrible moments where those he'd thought cared for him proved that they didn't. they fell away like the rest of his world, leaving him bitter and alone.

husk is more careful about his partners. I think he has still indulged in casual sex (at least prior to the hotel when he had slightly more freedom in alastor's absence), but he hasn't continued to explore more formal settings of bdsm since his downfall.

I think he's more reticent to hurt others, even consenually, now that he's on the other side of the overlord dynamic. he checks in more often, needs more assurance that this is what his partner wants.

he can still be rough, deliciously so, but he's warier about it now.

I honestly think too that while he had more sex as an overlord, it wasn't in any way because he was more confident in his sinner form. he's never liked how he looks in Hell, but as an overlord, he could lose himself in sex and pretend that he was desirable (he fucking is, the stubborn old tomcat).

but now, he's forced to confront how he feels about his body, in more subtle ways. when he starts sleeping with angel its more intimate than either of them has become used to, but husk's focus is always on making angel feel good and safe, so he's taken aback when he realizes that angel was genuine in his desire not just for husk, but husk's body.

and husk finds himself relearning what he likes - the different erogenous zones that he'd almost forgotten about or been to embarrassed to guide his other partners towards, and fuck does it feel good...

I will die on the soft!dom husk hill, and I can see him being willing to explore more and more kinks not just to help angel work through trauma, but also because angel tells him these kinks can be fun.

[rackartyg]

“Flowers? For the Dread Wolf?” Dorian said. “I’d imagine he'd demand blood. A good marrow bone, perhaps?”

Sulahnmi scoffed, but was gentle as she laid the flowers between the front paws of the statue. “According to shemlen tales, the Dalish make a human sacrifice to wake up in the morning and two to go to sleep at night.”

She got to her feet, took a step back, and bowed. Her voice turned wistful. “My clan also makes offerings of jerky, but I don’t have any to hand. We say the tough meat and fragrant spices keep his mouth busy and nose full, so he won’t come after us. But….

The same kind of spiced jerky is brought along by the hunters on long trips away from camp. They often leave some for the Dread Wolf’s statue as the last thing they do before they set off. Is that simply convenience, since we put up his statue at the very edge of camp, or is there something more to it? Sometimes I wonder. We place him there to not have him among us, but also because he keeps away evil spirits, we say.”

She looked up at the underside of Fen'Harel's stone muzzle, staring out over the valley. In tapestries, newer pieces, he was mangy and skinny, cackling or snarling, so twisted he hardly resembled a wolf at all—in stone, older pieces, he was fluffy and well-conditioned, like a hound that curled up each night in his master's lap to be brushed and plied with treats.

“The Emerald Knights fought alongside a wolf companion,” she mused. An impulse to lay a hand on Fen'Harel's shoulder flitted past, but she didn't dare. “And have you noticed how his statues here often flank doorways and such? Like a guardian, almost.”

Still looking up at him, tracing the soft curve of his cheek that someone once had shaped with such care, she said, “Wolves don’t want to be alone. Their packs are their families. In nature, a lone wolf is only on his own because he’s searching for a mate, a new family. Either he finds one, or he succumbs.”

The expression on the statue's face—the long stare out into nothing, over the ruins the shemlen had made of Dirthavaren—struck her as sad, suddenly. She stepped forward and ran a hand down the side of his neck. The stone had been sanded smooth, once, but was rough from lichen, wind, and rain now. Pulse quickening, she pressed her palm flat against his chest, imagining the beat of a mighty heart there.

She took a breath and shook her head, turning away from the statue. She didn't look either of her hangers-on in the face, though. “Ir abelas. The last time I was in the Dales, it was with my clan, as a young child. I only saw the wonder. As an adult, it’s… making me melancholy.”

“A forgivable offence,” Solas offered quietly.

She glanced at him; he had both hands wrapped around his staff, leaning on it a little, and a carefully blank expression on his face. But he refused to be grateful for his lack of argumentation—she had not made him witness this. She picked up her staff from the ground and began to walk back to camp.

“You realise the flowers will simply wilt, and jerky be carried off by actual wolves?” Dorian said dryly, following after.

As she picked her way down the hill, she considered telling him that most sacrifices were like feasts: prayers would be spoken over the cooking by the Keeper, the meal dedicated to the gods, but eaten by the clan. The Creators were locked away, after all—the point was the sentiment. The Dread Wolf was free to come collect his offerings for himself if he wanted, but if his sacred animals got to it first, what was the difference?

But she didn't have it in her to defend herself right now. All she'd wanted was to take one measly little moment to herself, one measly little ritual, without unsympathetic voyeurs. It was too much to ask for, it seemed.

“What a poor god yours is,” she said, “and how miserly his worshippers, to give him only words.”

“We do build some excellent cathedrals for him,” Dorian said wistfully. “You should see the Argent Spire in Minrathous. More gilt than the Golden City in its prime, I'd bet.”

“How ironic, for a building called the Argent Spire,” Solas opined mildly.

“The outside is silver. The heart of it is gold, which, yes, you're absolutely right, over the centuries has been used in far too much, intolerably sycophantic poetry about the Divine.”

“Most of that silver,” Solas said, still mild, “was originally stripped from elven temples after the conquest of Arlathan.”

“Oh,” said Dorian.

Sulahnmi sighed.

[harpersdragons]

Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd, CHapter 5!

Finally finals are over and my self imposed writing ban is lifted, so enjoy the longer than usual chapter!

I'm not even a little sorry about the cliff hanger

Jason knows they aren’t safe where they are, he should probably move safehouses every day.

But—

But Damian slept most of the next day, only waking up briefly to eat and let Jason check his head wound. It made sense he would be tired, yesterday was stressful and he’s injured. Jason doesn’t want to wake him up just to take another convoluted route to another safehouse.

Hell, he doesn’t even have that many safehouses to burn!

He can’t keep using Bruce’s, someone will catch on, and Jason doesn’t believe for a second he could actually outsmart Bruce’s system, or Barbara when Bruce inevitably gets her to check it.

There’s not a lot of food, since Bruce only keeps these safehouses stocked with emergency rations, there’s no perishables and barely any dishes.

He’ll probably need to make a grocery run soon, but he really doesn’t want to wake the kid. Besides, it’ll have hit the news by now that Bruce’s newest son is missing, and leaving will just draw attention to them. He can’t go out as Phoenix, Damian can’t go out as himself.

Seems like there’s only one solution.

_________________________________________________

Bruce nearly collapses onto the couch in the middle of Phoenix’s apartment, the photo of his son and Talia clutched in his hand.

The apartment had been vacated by the time they got there, with no clues as to where they had gone next.

Damian’s probably 3 or 4 in the picture, grinning wildly at his mother.

He can’t lose another son.

He’s only known Damian for a few weeks, but he can’t lose him.

“C’mon, B, we gotta get out of here.” Dick pulls him off the couch and leads him towards the door. “We’ll get Dames back, but that won’t happen if you just sit here.”

He lets Dick lead him out, TIm following shortly after.

When they all pile into one of Bruce’s cars, Tim speaks up. “So…I may have planted a few bugs.”

“Tim—”

“Hear me out. We didn’t take anything, we left something. Ergo, it’s not illegal. I connected them to Babs’ system.”

“That’s not how the law works.” Dick facepalms.

"We're literally vigilantes! We break the law all the time, is this really the hill you want to die on?"

Bruce lets the boys’ bickering fade into the background.

He doesn’t remember the drive home.

He does remember the pounding his chest.

He remembers the spike of panic in his chest

What if they don’t find Damian?

Or worse, what if they do, but he chooses to stay with Phoenix?

Dick had mentioned he asked to go with the crime lord.

He can’t lose another son

He can’t be too late

Alfred makes them all go up to bed as soon as they get home (they may have been out all night searching Gotham), despite their protests.

A few hours later, after his short nap, Bruce makes his way down to the cave.

He pulls Tim’s mask footage, replaying the interaction between him and Phoenix without audio. He can still tell what’s going on pretty easily. As soon as Tim lands on the scene, Phoenix shifts to put his body between Tim and Damian.

At some point, when Bruce can only assume Tim is demanding the crime lord hand Damian over, Phoenix protectively tucks Damian further into his cape.

His youngest son looks sluggish almost, barely moving through the whole interaction. Dick had mentioned that, but seeing it was another story. It’s entirely different from how he’s been acting, even when Damian was exhausted, he never showed it.

Bruce flips through the footage over and over again, frame by frame.

He analyzes Phoenix’s posture, the way he effortlessly cradles Damian.

Eventually, he turns on the audio and lets it play through at his normal speed.

All seemed normal, until—

Until he could just barely pick up Damian’s sleepy voice.

“Incoming, Akhi.” Damian’s words are slurred, and his head barely shifts, but his eyes are trained in one direction.

Bruce stills, replaying the moment in hopes he’ll hear something different.

It’s not different, he didn’t hear wrong.

Akhi.

Not only does Damian know his kidnapper, he apparently asked to be taken (according to Phoenix, anyway, Bruce isn’t entirely sure how much he trusts that), he’s close to his kidnapper.

Close enough to call him brother.

Bruce has already had his suspicions, but this just confirms it.

The league has his son.

Again.

And if Damian is close enough to Phoenix to call him brother, Bruce may not get him back.

He can’t lose another son.

_________________________________________________

Jason waits until it’s well after dark to enact his plan.

The Bats will surely be on patrol, scouring the city for Damian, but as long as he doesn’t wear his gear, they shouldn’t look twice at him.

He just needs to run into Crime Alley and grab his and Damian’s old League gear (don’t ask him why he has it, Talia shoved a bag into his hands and said not to ask questions).

It should be simple, but if he’s not in gear he can’t grapple across the city—even if he did, it would take hours—so, he needs a car.

And he knows just how to get one.

_________________________________________________

Dick is perfectly fine.

No really, he is.

He’s used to his brothers going missing.

He’s used to hostage situations, kidnappings, attempted murders.

All part of the job.

Hell, that’s part of life as a high profile celebrity.

So Dick is 100% fine. He can deal.

He’s definitely not driving himself insane looking for his baby brother, who is currently being held captive by a crime lord and possible league assassin.

They’ve been working in shifts to find him, starting after Alfred forced them to take a nap. Currently it’s Tim, Steph, and Cass’ turn to scour the city. He and Bruce took the late afternoon shift, right after they woke up and ate enough to satisfy Alfred.

Bruce is manning the comms, technically still “resting”, and Dick is definitely not pacing the cave.

He’s pacing the manor, instead.

A few backflips later, and Alfred banned him from the manor until he’s burned off his restless energy.

Although, he’s still banned from patrolling until the current vigilantes come back.

Bruce is sitting just where Dick left him, glaring at the Batcomputer.

Dick comes to a stop in the middle of the cave, staring at the wall.

“Do you think, maybe we should call the Justice League in for this?” He calls, not bothering to look at Bruce.

“Hn.” Bruce grunts in response, as articulate as ever.

“I mean, after what happened the last time one of us was taken by a crime lord…”

“Dick.”

“I’m just saying! We need to find him, B, and the Justice League, or at least Superman, would probably be helpful!”

“Barbara called the Birds of Prey. That’s enough people searching for him.”

Dick whirls around, stalking towards the computer. “Do you even care? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. I mean, I know he was only here for a couple of weeks, but c’mon Bruce! He’s your son! You’ve barely spent time with him, and now you don’t even seem to care that he was taken!”

“Of course I care, Dick, he’s my son. I’m doing everything I can to find him.”

“Not everything.” Dick scoffs—though he grabs a cookie from the tray on the desk— and spins on his heel again, heading towards the training area. He has some acrobatic equipment there, and flying should burn off this energy.

Bruce must have looked up to see where he was going, or maybe to continue their argument, because he calls out, “Safety net, Dick.”

“Fuck off.”

“Richard.”

Dick waves a hand over his shoulder, disappearing into the sectioned off training area.

He makes sure his safety net is set up properly (not because Bruce told him to, but he’s not an idiot) before climbing to the platform.

He leaps, grabbing the trapeze bar, then twisting and hooking his legs. He lets himself dangle upside down for several moments, the bar swinging back and forth, before he rights himself and builds momentum to jump to the next bar.

He loses track of time going through a simple routine.

He leaps and flips through the air, hangs upside down, does handstands on the bar.

And still, the buzzing, restless energy is there.

Usually trapeze settles him, the freefall and head rush from being upside calms something in him, in a way not much else can.

But this time it didn’t work.

He makes his way back over to the platform, landing in a salute on instinct. He cocks his head in thought, learning a new skill could focus him enough to burn off the extra energy.

He’s been wanting to learn aerial silks, and they have the supplies to do it.

Bruce had bought all kinds of equipment when Dick moved in, he wasn’t quite sure what Dick would want to practice on when he was younger.

He’s seen aerial silk performances, watched videos on how to do beginner moves. He’s fairly confident he can figure this out.

With a plan in mind, he sets about taking down the trapezes, unclipping them and letting them fall to the safety net below. Once that’s done, he unclips the net itself, as it’s not necessary for the silks. He can practice pretty low to the ground, besides, they have thick mats on the ground for a reason.

He checks the silks themselves and makes sure they’re still sturdy, then goes about securing them.

Finally ready to begin, he thinks through the motions he’d seen people do in the videos.

…and when he tries them he promptly falls on his face.

Again

And again

And again

Just as he thinks he’s finally starting to get the basic locks, the alarm rings through the cave.

Dick untangles himself from the silks (if he gets more tangled in the process, that’s between him and the empty room) and jogs out of the training area. He can just barely see Bruce disappearing up the stairs.

So not a bat emergency.

...Probably

He glances between the stairs and the computer, ultimately deciding to see whatever triggered the lock down procedure.

No use barging upstairs completely unprepared for whatever situation is there.

On the computer, security footage is frozen on a single frame.

A man, dressed in cargo pants and an oversized hoodie (impressive, considering the man is close to Bruce’s size), with dark hair and a startlingly white streak falling over his forehead.

Part of his face is obscured by a domino mask, and clearly a good quality one at that.

He’s standing in front of the Murcielago, flipping off the camera, and a wild grin splits his face.

There’s a stack of tires in the corner behind him, tire iron gripped in the hand not flipping the camera off.

The weird thing is (even weirder that is), the footage is dated to 2 hours ago.

That shouldn’t be possible.

Bruce has an absurd amount of alarms and sensors all around the manor, it should have alerted the second it picked up on an unrecognized presence.

Dick rushes upstairs to the garage, and he finds Bruce standing in an empty parking spot. There’s keys scattered on the ground, the board that usually holds them has been tossed carelessly across the floor. Most of the cars are untouched, except for the missing one and the Murcielago. It’s missing its tires, but the thief didn’t actually take them. They’re stacked up on the wall behind the car, just like they appeared on the footage.

Bruce isn’t even looking at his car though, focused solely on the missing one.

Dick catalogs the cars present, running them against the ones he knew should be there.

Jason’s car.

The thief stole the car Bruce meant to give to Jason for his 16th birthday.

_________________________________________________

Just before Jason steps out the door to “his” (Bruce’s) safehouse, grapple hooked on his belt (you think he’s walking all the way to the manor? Fuck no. the safehouse is close, but not that close), the lights flicker, and a speaker crackles.

Jason freezes, eyes flicking over to Damian’s sleeping form.

The kid didn’t stir, and nothing else seems out of place.

His hand creeps over to the gun strapped to his thigh, before a voice filters through the speaker.

“Jason Peter Todd!” A familiar voice shouts.

Barbara. Of course.

He’d foolishly assumed she’d left Gotham, or was otherwise out of the vigilante game.

Nope.

She’d just moved to behind the scenes.

“...Are we gonna have a problem, Barbie?”

“Oh, we already have a problem. Multiple of them, actually.”

“Right. Could we discuss this later? I have shit to do.”

“Nope. Sit your ass down.” Her voice is still too loud, he can see Damian start to shift in his sleep.

“Only if you lower the voice. If you wake Damian up, we’re gonna have a whole separate problem.”

“Is that seriously your only concern?” Despite the disdain dripping from her voice, she does speak softer.

Jason sits on the couch, fiddling with the blanket covering Damian.

“The kid’s got a concussion, it’s much more pleasant for us all if he sleeps it off.”

“Fine.” She pauses, taking a breath before continuing, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were alive?”

“What, you mean when I came back? Or when I woke up.”

“Either, both. We would have helped you, Jason.”

“Well, Talia picked me up, and I didn’t really have a way to contact you. Nor did I want to. When I came back, I told Alfred when I dropped the kid off. No one else needed to know.”

“Jay…”

“I’m doing perfectly fine on my own, Barbie. I don’t need your pity.” He stands, heading for the door. “If that’s all, I have shit to do.”

“Sit back down, I’m not done.”

“Well hurry up, then.”

“Why did you take Damian?”

“Y’mean besides the fact he asked me to?” Jason shrugs, “I missed the kid, Bruce clearly isn’t paying enough attention to him. My kid, my rules.”

“He’s not your kid, though.”

“May as well be.”

Damian wakes up, then, “Akhi?” The word slurs sleepily, and something in Jason softens.

“Hey, Habibi.” He strides back over to the couch. “How’s your head feeling?”

Damian shrugs, reaching for him.

“Well that’s descriptive, Princeling.” Jason obliges him, scooping the kid up and settling him on his hip. “Y’hungry? You slept through dinner.” There’s not much here, but he found some cans of soup.

He distantly hears Barbara coo through the speaker, and flips off the room behind him. There’s a camera somewhere, she’ll get the message.

Damian shakes his head before resting it on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well ya gotta eat somethin’, kid.”

“Clearly you two are fine. Want some help with whatever plan you have concocted?” Babs speaks again.

Jason smirks, carrying Damian to the kitchen and setting him in a chair. “Wanna help me fuck with Bruce?”

“...That depends. What’s the plan?”

“I need an agreement you won’t rat me out to the old man. I don’t want him to know where I am, or that I’m alive.”

“I’ll agree, on the condition you tell him eventually. And that you return Damian or work out a custody agreement.”

“Barbie...you know he doesn't want me there. It's better for all involved if he doesn't know I'm alive."

"I have no clue where you got that stupid ass idea," He can hear her digh on the other line, "Problem for another day. If you want my help, I need you to agree to my terms."

"...Fine. Deal.” Jason is not pouting. He's above that.

“Ok then. What’s the plan?”

Jason talks her through the plan, and where she would come in while he ladles some soup into a bowl for Damian. He can’t completely overwrite the security system, or loop it like she can.

Once he has Babs’ agreement, and Damian is fed (and quickly falling back asleep), Jason gets ready to head out again.

“Ok, Dames, I have to go out for a bit. I should be back in about an hour and a half, two hours tops. Will you be ok on your own?”

Damian just nods his agreement, and Jason takes him back to the bedroom to sleep some more.

Once he’s thrown on a domino mask, dark oversized hoodie and cargo pants, Babs hacks his phone and puts her number in it, along with a message.

You can enter as normal, your access was never erased. I’ll cover your tracks, loop the cameras, and make sure you don’t trigger the sensors.

Jason smirks, and begins the journey towards Wayne Manor.

He’s lost some time due to Barbara’s delay, but hopefully he’ll still be able to get through his plan.

Once he finally arrives at the gate, he enters his code and watches as the buzzer turns green, the gates opening slowly.

Jason grins, and makes his way towards the manor.

His original goal was just to take a car, but now that he’s here…

May as well have more fun than that.

First stop: Bruce’s bedroom.

He needs to get his baby brother’s book back.

He still can’t believe Bruce took that from him, he never once took Jason’s books when he was younger, but the one time Damian is reading one of Jason’s books, there’s a problem.

No matter, Jason will just steal his book back.

Thankfully, the tree he always used to sneak in and out (usually unsuccessfully, but only due to the sensors in the yard. This time, he has Barbara covering for him) is still there, and he’s able to scale it and make his way into his old bedroom.

From there, it’s easy to make it down the hall without being seen.

He cracks the door quietly, resolutely not thinking about how familiar the action is, from all the times he’d sought comfort from Bruce at night.

He doesn’t get that anymore.

He never will, and he’s accepted that.

…hasn’t he?

Jason shakes the thoughts off as he crosses the threshold of the room.

The book is pretty easy to find, it’s just sitting on Bruce’s nightstand.

Jason grabs it, taking a second to read some of his old annotations.

Bruce’s bed is as comfortable as Jason remembers, and it’s a battle to stand up and walk out.

Maybe he could come home?

The Bruce he remembered would welcome him.

But—

I’m not your father. I don’t have time for your teenage rebellion

No.

Jason doesn’t need him.

He’s here for a reason, anyway.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Jason forces himself to leave the room, to leave his fath-- Bruce behind.

It’s a bit more risky to get to the garage, he has to stay in the open a lot longer than the short path from his old room to Bruce’s. If he miscalculated, or just spent too long talking with Barbara, and the bats are already back from patrol, he could get caught.

He forces himself to walk slowly, paying attention to make sure there is no one around the corners.

All his caution is futile though, as he passes Bruce’s study, Alfred appears in his path. Both of them freeze, and Jason opens his mouth to stay something. His jaw snaps shut at a raised eyebrow from him, and Alfred extends a tray full of various snacks towards him.

Jason tentatively snags a cookie off the tray and starts walking past him. Alfred nods once, and continues into the study.

The rest of the way to the garage is clear, thankfully.

Jason tucks the book into a pocket in his cargo pants—thankfully this copy is a small paperback, not the larger hardback like the first edition in the library—and heads over to the wall of keys.

The choice is pretty easy, he wants to fuck with Bruce as much as possible.

He grabs the keys for the red Toyota Camry, specifically the car Bruce was set to give Jason for his 16th birthday. The car they picked out together.

He pockets the keys, and just before he’s about to turn and leave, an idea strikes him. A small smirk spreads across his face, as he grabs the edge of the boarding holding the keys, and tosses it across the ground. The keys scatter, like intended.

With that handled, there’s only one more thing he needs to do before heading back to Damian.

He finds a tire iron in a nearby tool cabinet, and spins it casually as he walks towards Bruce’s favorite car: the Lamborghini Murcielago.

Because of course the fucker had to go with a car that means bat in spanish.

Jackass.

For an expensive car, the tires are pretty easy to steal. Bruce should work on that, you’d think he learned after a little punk stole his tires the first time.

He gets the tires off quickly, and rolls them to the side.

He grins, turning to one of the cameras in the garage, and flips it off.

Dropping the tire iron to the ground, he heads back to the camry.

He has a kid to get back to.

By the time Jason is pulling up to the safehouse again, Babs has dealt with covering his tracks and sending the footage to Bruce.

The sky is starting to lighten, the sun not quite rising yet.

There’s a bag of food sitting on the front step, and he scoops that up on his way in. He sets it on the counter and peels his domino mask off, then pulls Pride and Prejudice out of his pocket.

He runs his fingers through his hair as he heads to the bedroom to check on Damian, exhaustion weighing on him.

Only, when he opens the door, Damian is nowhere to be found.

The sheets are rumpled, there’s an indent on the pillow where Damian was sleeping.

But the kid is nowhere in sight.

Jason’s heart drops, chest constricting as he tears through the rest of the house.

There’s not much ground to cover, but the conclusion is the same.

Damian is gone.

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 4

Casper felt *strong*.

He felt like until now, there had been a fear in the back of his mind. A fear that one day his body would fail him.

But as he reached for the metal shutter door, several meters wide and taller than him, his muscles pulled without hesitation. There was no pain, no pressure as his arms engaged and tore the metal upwards with the ease of lifting a single petal that had fallen from a delicate flower.

Once the shutter was mostly up, it stopped and dented, jammed at an angle, Casper considered it for a moment and mentally shrugged, his arms not being able to make that gesture at the moment.

Ducking under and through the shutter door, the man looked out across a great landscape. Turning to peer left and right, the building he had been in was a featureless concrete slab that showed signs of scorch marks and lumps of the solid material broken and pitted as if shot with a gun.

There were no windows or doors all along the space with the exception of the series of hanger bay doors. But Casper had no interest in those, he was staring at the odd shapes and objects in the distance partially hidden by huge rolling hills and dunes.

Who could stop him now from taking a quick look? He felt *free*. What would have caused him pause before was no longer a concern.

The moment he stepped from the safety of the shutter door, he felt his foot sink into the earth, unsteadying him, making him look down. Casper watched as great mounds of dirt built up around his metal foot, as if he was far heavier than normal. He *was* heavier. Why was he..?

It came rushing back. He was piloting a mech. It was an odd sensation to remember such an important and obvious concept. How could he forget such a thing?

The man straightened and took a breath.

Breathing in the alien world's clean air it satisfied him. It was cool and rich with untainted oxygen. He could taste that there were very few particulates to damage him. He knew information this on a factual level.

The young man breathed in again; he could feel his lungs fill and his heart sing for it. He touched a hand to his chest over his heart, only for a 'clang' to draw his head down.

A metal hand, against a metal chest.

If he could frown, he would have. He settled for his optics to click shut, clean themselves, then click open again.

Why was it so hard to remember who he was inside the machine?

"Casper! You having fun there?" Demanded Zeet inside Casper's head.

[I think I broke the door. Sorry about that.]

A moment's pause.

"Ha! Break all the doors you like, it appears like you're already, ready to go for a stroll?" He sounded completely unfazed by the human's destruction; almost giddy even.

[The air out here is... I don't know how to describe it. Cleaner?]

"Your generator needs oxygen to burn, the one in your chest is only a basic model. Barely enough power to run your current rig, although I have tinkered with it, so it should suffice for what we have planned." Came a smug response from Zeet.

"I suspect the air out there is a better quality than the hanger, what with the enclosed space and multiple generators running." The head engineer explained, again, unbothered by the idea of generators running without significant air flow in an enclosed space.

[I think you're right.]

Casper took another step, for the second time finding his footing unstable. Zeet seemed to anticipate Casper's next question.

"We deliberately use loose dirt in the starting area, the idea is to force new pilots to learn how to adjust and fall without fear of being at the top of a hill or a distance away from rescue."

[I think I'm alright.]

As Casper took more steps, they became more confident. He stopped looking down and looked up, to the horizon where the strange square shapes peeked over the hills.

[What's that?] The human asked, while the mech briefly lifted one of its arms and pointed at the structures before dropping it back down to its side. Why did it move so organically?

"An assault course of sorts, although this would be far into your future as a pilot before you'd go over there. That said, I feel that it would be rather pointless to have you make such progress without letting you find your limits. Why not head over and see what you do?" Suggested the voice.

"This is ill advised. We haven't got nearly enough sensors or monitors to keep track of the relevant information." Came Wren's voice, quiet until now.

"You're telling me you don't have his readouts?"

"Not nearly as many as I'd like or choose! This was meant to be a proof of concept! Not a full-scale exercise!"

"Then you will take a page out of our books and plan for any eventuality in future. Casper! Onwards!" Zeet demanded, dismissing the doctor's comments with an almost audible flick of his hand.

Casper urged himself out into the open fields and over the green grass covered dunes. He wandered over to the distant objects without issue, merely walking up then down the rough terrain without delay. By the time he began to near the objects, the human inside the towering machine had long forgotten that he existed once more. Once he arrived at the strange shapes, the young man discovered that he found that they made up a replica of a large town, or centre of a city.

As he walking amongst the buildings, choosing the centre of a street, he noted there were no vehicles, the shop fronts weren't hollow and the buildings themselves; solid blocks without features. It was strange to be reminded of what the world was supposed to somewhat look like now, as he strolled down the main road of the faux town.

[I thought you said this was an assault course?] Casper sent back to the hanger, not seeing the drones overhead, watching his every move. He gingerly laid a hand on the top of what could have been a low corner shop as he reached a intersection of four roads.

"Well we can certainly put you through your paces if you like?" Came a flat tone. Gone was the confidence or giddy vibe to his words. Casper's optics clicked as he felt a strange sensation of danger creep over him. He looked down at one of his hands and made a fist before relaxing. Unlike his own hands, that had a constant tremble since the loss of Earth, these metal hands were perfectly still. Casper never noticed this however.

Casper had done assault courses on Earth. 'Team building' exercises. He wasn't brawny or even particularly fast. He was clever, but powerful wasn't a word he'd use in any self description.

Until today...

He *felt* powerful. He could trust his legs, trust his arms.

To the camera drones overhead, the basic mech, one that was designed to take punishment, but not excel at much else, tilted its reconnaissance unit that sat atop its shoulders as if to crack it's neck. If it were organic, of course.

[Go for it.]

"Understood." Came the immediate reply before Casper got the profound feeling that his next words were not address to the human. "Qik? You're up."

[Qik?]

"Defend yourself Casper." Came a dispassionate response.

[Wait, what? I thought this was an assault course?]

"Defeat the aggressor. No further communication will be acknowledged or sent." Zeet stated, before the human felt whatever connection that was within Casper's head, closedoff.

'Defend' himself? 'Defeat the aggressor'?!

Was he expected to fight? Casper couldn't fight! He'd never been in anymore more than a scuffle when he was twelve! He stepped away from the corner building and into the centre of the intersection, looking around himself for a threat. There were alleys and smaller roads he could duck down to break line of sight, but he need to know *where* the 'aggressor' was coming from!

Casper blinked, and in his panic, his need to find the threat, he felt his mind suddenly expand past what he could see.

It was as if a new sense had just opened up to him. Like he'd lived his life with his eyes closed and was blind, only to discover now; that he could see. This new sensation was not sight, but Casper could *feel* movement of something large and fast approaching him from the hangers to the south, where he had been only a few minutes before.

Whatever it was, it was big and fast. He could sense it was as big as he was. Nothing like the tiny dots that floated harmlessly above.

Aware of the direction of the threat, Casper ducked, dropping his head low and ensuring he himself couldn't be seen over the tops of any of the lower buildings. Quickly shuffling, the man got off the street and ducked down a side road, scooting further down, almost leaning against the building with his back. He paid no attention to the scrapes and loose concrete dust the metal of his back scratched off the structures.

{What idiot did that moron trick into this game this time?}

It was a genderless statement, devoid of emotion. It wasn't talking, like Zeet over the radio. It was text, and an image of a command line and the words filled in at the front of Casper's mind. The man could feel that he could respond.

[I'm the new guy.]

{Cute. Come out and I'll make this quick.}

[Sure, where are you?]

{Finally, a smart one, I'm coming up the main ingress.}

The young man had no interest in revealing himself. Just because the words carried no tone or emotion did not mean that he was a fool. He could sense the threat, it had crossed the distance from the hangers to the fake-town in a matter of less than a minute, whereas it took him substantially longer. Now though, he could see the pulsing 'blip' in his mind's eye. It was slowly making its way up the centre of the town, truthfully being exactly where it had told him it would be.

{I'm starting to suspect you're thinking you're clever...}

[Why's that?]

{You're hiding.}

[I'm struggling to work the controls. Only just started piloting.]

{I don't like liars 'new guy'}

As he crept around the main road, quickly tip toing across the intersecting main road, and using the alleys and smaller side roads to move around, Casper caught his first glimpse of the threat. It was a mech, but unlike his own; blocky, thick with exposed metal, pistons and wires. This one was sleek, designed for speed, but no less deadly. It reminded him of a sword. The sharp angles, the pointed feet that stabbed into the ground. It had a series of spikes along it's back like boney wings.

The whole thing screamed 'professional', all wrapped up in a red and silver paint job. It was the mech of a main character to Casper's eyes.

It didnt so much as walk or move either, the word that sprang to Casper's mind was 'stalking'. It stalked forwards, it's 'head' a pointed eagle-like structure, turning left to right, obviously scanning for him.

[What makes you think I'm a liar?]

{This is just getting insulting now. I'm the final test 'new guy'. You think they'd put you against me? Before you can even move?}

[Stranger things have happened.]

Casper got no response to his last message, but watched as the pointed head, ducked low and out of sight. He was positioned behind her now, closer to the south, nearer the hangers where she had entered, but he now lost track of her. Casper wasn't a fighter, he had no intention of getting into a brawl and made his way to the edge of the town fully intending on running back to the hangers.

The young man wasn't without some knowledge of how to throw a punch. After a physical altercation in his younger school years, his overly dramatic mother had sent him to self defence classes to stand up to the bullies. Instead of being beaten up in just a school setting, he was summarily beaten up in an official setting instead.

All he'd learnt was howto roll with the punches, literally. Casper never stayed on the ground, that was where 'bad' always ended up 'worse'.

Still crouched, sometimes using his hands against the hardtop of the fake roads to help him move, Casper finally made it to the edge of the town and learnt that it wasn't going to be that easy.

The second part of his mech broke the edge boundary of the faux town, a klaxon sounded along with one of the annoying drones swooping down with a red, flashing light directly over his head.

Casper bolted across the road and practically dived into an alleyway, into the town and away from the alarm, which remained in place. His head poked out from around a corner further into the town to see if the mysterious mech had approached to investigate.

The pointed leg that swung at Casper's head missed by what felt like mere inches, saved only because he flinched at something moving fast and fell backwards, deeper into the alleyway. The assaulting red and silver mech obliterated the plain wall with its kick in a shower of destroyed concrete and rebar; bent and demolished at the sheer force of its strike.

{You're fast.} Came a message.

Casper was up, his fists raised, elbows in. He was in his pocket and ready to protect his head.

The heel kick to his solar plexus sent him backwards, arms outstretched by the sheer force as he flew out of the other end of the alleyway and rolling head over heels into the main road again.

{Not fast enough.}

Casper backward rolled onto his feet, one of the buildings arresting his movement in a jarring thud that stuttered his vision. He didn't think, merely moved as he dived to his left down the main road. The besieged building that he'd lent against only moments ago was already buckled, but the rocket propelled mech that slammed into it with its shoulder, destroyed it in a shower of crumbling dust and materials.

The assaulting mech stomped from the cloud of debris and glared down the main road; its own optic sensors scanning for the new pilot.

The road was empty.

{You know I would have already won this right?} The red and silver mech taunted, stalking forwards, looking left and right, clearing buildings. It was sending the message over an open band, so anyone with ears on could hear it.

[I'm still standing.] Came a similar open frequency message. Qik snarled. She couldn't track or know where the new pilot was, she was working on visuals only.

{They disable my tracking system. To give you the tinest of a chance.}

She was crouched low, clearing corners, making sure the 'new guy' didn't try what she had and kick her recon unit in. Without eyes, it was an automatic win for whoever could see.

[If it's any consolation, I don't think this has a tracking system.]

Qik smirked, cocky son of a bitch. She was going to enjoy breaking him down, bit by-

[Heads up!]

A shadow flickered across the street and Qik span on one foot, swinging her leg round in a perfect roundhouse kick that would cut any mech that was in range behind her in half.

But despite her aiming high, looking to destroy an arm or even knock off the head of the opponent, her kick was too low.

From atop a building, the new mech was halfway through a jump and falling rapidly towards Qik. It was a terrible, stupid idea. Gravity was not friendly with anything as big and heavy as a mech. Only those rigs with jump packs and boosters could consider leaving the ground. But this idiot had climbed a building and had launched itself at her?!

So shocked was she, that this idiot would try such an insane and self-destructive move, Qik couldn't decide how to react. She had literally never seen this before.

That delay was enough.

On his way past, Casper grabbed a hold of the eagle-esque head and held on tight, his metal fingers denting the recon unit casing.

Gravity grabbed him and threw him against her, flipping him over her while he hurtled towards the ground in a mulit-ton mech that landed squarely on its recon unit, destroying into a million tiny, expensive pieces. Qik landed on her back, but immediately lost all visual read outs as her own unit was partislly torn from its housing.

{*What?!*} Qik demanded, unbelieving this idiot could succeed in such a stupid move! This was squidgit-shit!

"What?!" Blurted Zeet, blinking as the human had just defeated, the undefeated mercenary; Qik on his very first jaunt within a single hour of his first mech startup.

[What?] Asked Casper, also blinded and unable to move, but wholly unaware of the shitstorm he had just started.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]