#I’ve got the next 2 days off so I don’t leak ink all over the office

[eatyoursparkout]

miiiight post the next bit of chapter and verse today. after I’ve scarfed down some takeout and disassociated on my couch for a bit

[ukiyo-jaem]

Aced. pt.2 (n.jm)

⇁warnings: smut (duh), roughness, power play, Dom!jaemin, fem!reader

⇁have fun ;)

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it was like torture waiting for the next session with jaemin. nights filled with lewd dreams and the craving for things to tip off like they should have.

yet, today was the day. you had taken another test and got it back, with an 'A' stamped at the head of the page. you sat at your desk, legs shaking with anticipation.

you straightened your papers last minute and sat in silence for him to walk in any moment now and to show him how well you did all by yourself.

you peered at the clock and frowned. he was always on time...and he was running late today.

your phone as if on cue buzzed on the smooth top of your desk.

'jae: can't make it today. hope you understand.'

it felt like your breath was funneled out of you all at once.

'y/n: are you okay?'

'jae: yeah, i just had a rough day. didn't wanna drag you down with my sour mood.'

you groaned and set your phone down roughly. "this isn't fair." you muttered. bullshit if he's in a bad mood. you were still feeling the consequences of cheating on the last test.

"no. i'm not waiting." you said standing up and grabbing your bag and sweatshirt. "he wants to be in a bad mood? guess i'll just have to brighten his day." you said as you walked out your bedroom door, aced test in hand.

~~~~

you'd only been to his house a couple of times. most were for studying sessions, sometimes it was for mutual friends picking something up.

this time, you were coming here for yourself. to show him your test...and hopefully it turns into something more.

his front door seemed thick and filled with such a dense feeling of bad riddance.

it opened a few seconds later to a sleepy looking jae. his sweatpants and t-shirt made him look comfy as he stared at you in confusion. a silver chain you hadn't noticed before hanging outside of his shirt but fitting his aesthetic. Ink leaked from his short sleeves that had always been covered up with a hoodie or cardigan.

"i said-" "i know what you said." you cut him off, your hand coming infront of his mouth to make him be quiet. "but i'm here to show you this." you turned the paper around and he just stared at it.

he shrugged as he looked up at you. "yeah?" his voice was laced with an attitude you'd never experience before with him.

you looked down at the paper to make sure it was the right one...and it was...A and all.

"i got an A...like on my test." you said, your smile slowly falling. "it's not rare to ace a test, y/n." his eyes rolled, looking down the street, his gaze slowly falling back on you again.

"but-" your test was now being raked over and over again, trying to find an imperfection on it. "what? you payed attention for once?," he chuckled, his arms now over his chest. you looked up at him, eyes becoming misty. "want a cookie?" he snickered, the venom of sarcasm dripping from every word that left his lips. your heart sank as your insecurities seeped through as the seconds ticked away.

the want to just crawl into a hole and throw away the test into the garbage can became unbearable. your eyes became misty in the span of a second.

"i just thought you'd care." you shook your head, a tear falling on your paper and making the dried black ink smear into a bluish mess. your stare didn't leave the paper as he realized what he had done.

"i-" but it was too late...you had already ripped your test in half. you stood there for a moment and just stared at the two pieces of paper in your hands, his eyes wide and in shock of what you had just done.

"...i care..." he whispered, taking both pieces out of your hands. you met his gaze that held so much remorse for his previous actions.

his jaw clenched and his eyes closed as he took a deep breath in. "we can fix this." he said grabbing your upper arm in one hand and holding the paper in his other. he dragged you inside the homely house and down hallways to a bedroom door that was marked with 'keep out' signs.

he pulled you into a world you didn't know he was apart of. cigarette smells filled the room and various things you had never seen before laid in his room. tattoo gun was the weirdest thing you had wandered over with your eyes.

"woah." you breathed and he rolled his eyes.

"why does everybody do that?" he asked grabbing your bag and throwing it by the door. "sit on the bed." he said motioning over to the bed.

he went over to his desk and put the pieces of paper together. work began immediately as he didn't even waste any time lighting a cigarette and leaving it hanging from his lips.

it was so weird seeing him in this environment. you just knew him as the dorky yet hot guy that you saw at varying times. yet in his own room he was a guy with tattoos who smoked, listened to music, and read.

"how long have you smoked?" you try to make casual conversation. his gaze looked confused as he looked back at you for a moment, turning right back around to what he was doing.

"you shouldn't be asking people stupid questions, baby." the name rolled off his lips so smoothly and so elegantly.

"just curious." the shrug of your shoulders happening naturally. you observed some of the different posters on his wall.

the soft guitar playing in the background as you could see jaemin bop his head along with it. the puffs of smoke would come up anywhere between 6 to 8 seconds.

"did you cheat this time?" he asked and you rolled your eyes even though you know he couldn't see. "no. as a matter of fact." you said matter-of-factly.

"so what was so different about this test than the others?" he inquired as he took tape out of his drawer, slamming the drawer back.

"i don't know. maybe our tutoring sessions are working?" that was your best answer as you brought your legs to fold so you were sitting criss-cross.

his chuckle breaking the silence as he turned around his chair.

"so what was so different about the past tutoring sessions and the new ones?" he asked, taking his cigarette and tapping it on an ash tray.

a sudden cough broke through your chest as the still recent memories resurfaced. his sat there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face.

"well," you sighed once you regained your breath. "it's been really...hands on...lately." you nodded, trying to word it properly.

"in what way?" his eyebrow arched. your body sat like a deer caught in head lights. "...i'm not going to say it, jaemin..." you said quietly.

"awe are you shy now?" he mocked, fake sympathy slipping in and out of his words.

"no."

"awe you're blushing." he coo'ed.

"no i'm not."

"well you weren't that shy when my tongue was on your pussy last week." he said and your heart started beating faster and your fight or flight was kicking in.

he was getting more impatient with you sitting on his bed when he imagined you tied to it.

"did you like it?" he smirked and just like that, you were trying to run out of his room. yet, he was just a little bit faster than you.

instead of running through the door, you were pinned against it. his hungry looking eyes trying to find pleasure in just looking at your cute form.

"you didn't answer my question, princess." you were getting drawn into his words by each syllable. your eyes were just looking at his lips now, wanting to take everything they were willing to give.

"and by the aced test on my desk...you're amazing at answering questions." he whispered.

by the second, each of you were moving closer to each other. lips moving closer together when at the last minute, he pulls away.

"so yeah...your test is fixed." he walked over to his desk and held it up.

"what the hell was that?!" you asked, still shocked of what just happened. "what are you talking about?" he rolled his eyes and you were steaming now. he was seriously not doing that.

you marched right up to him and grabbed his face forcefully. "you know exactly what you're doing, jaemin." you said and his eyes only grew colder at your forceful grip on his face.

once you were shocked back to reality, your hand loosened and a shocked face set into your own.

you didn't skip a beat though as you were now on your knees.

he watched with eager eyes but relaxed figure. "payback is a bitch." you said and automatically started rubbing at the growing hard-on in his pants.

a sharp intake of breath was paired with his hand coming down to your hand. "i don't think you know what you're doing, little girl." his voice had dropped a couple octaves from his previous spoken sentence.

"i think i know exactly what i am doing." you shoved his hand off and reached for the waistband of his sweatpants.

he watched your actions with a smirk, letting you have your fun...for now.

he watched as your eyes bulged and filled with lust at his size, knowing you weren't entirely prepared for it. the lack of experience showing as you uneasily grabbed the base.

yet, you went for it. he wanted to applaud your bravery as you started sucking lightly at the tip, inching your mouth down.

your tongue came out to lick him right up his shaft, a low moan escaping his now bitten lips. you got sloppier with it, letting the drool coat your lips and his now red and swollen cock.

"i've been such a good girl for the past week." you coo'd as you licked a bold stripe up the underside of his leaking cock. "is that so, princess?" he chuckled and your nods and lip biting along with the occasional giggles sent him over the edge.

his hand grabbed your hair and his fingers grabbed a fistful as if it was a prized position. the burning pleasure made your body more flushed. "because last time i checked... it's not so good to show up to someone's house uninvited." your eyes became big and his mind you just seemed so much more fuckable.

"what did you say earlier?" he asked leaning forward and grabbing your face. "karma is a bitch, baby. and you're in my house." he smirked. "my house. my rules." he whispered, getting closer to your now slightly intimidated figure.

"open your mouth and take what i give you." you didn't think twice as he squished your face harder so your mouth was open. he spit in your mouth, automatically shoving you back down on his cock.

his hand stayed in your hair, guiding you up and down his cock. "oh fuck. you're so much cuter with my cock in your mouth." he chuckled, forcing your mouth down so he was all in your mouth and throat.

gags was what you and him were met with.

he pulled your head off of him and pulled your hair so you were face to face with him. tear-streaked cheeks was such a pretty look on you.

you gasped for air with heavy breaths; chest heaving and knees sore from being on them for so long. his hand left your hair and made its way to your neck, slightly squeezing once it was wrapped around.

"you're so beautiful, princess." he whispered, wiping away some tears from your cheeks, his thumb running across your bottom lip. you wrapped your puffy and drooly lips around his thumb, sucking lightly while his eyes bore into yours.

"you make me want to do bad things, y/n." he sighed truthfully; his bitten lips being snatched in between his teeth. you let his thumb go with a 'pop' and nuzzled your cheek into his palm.

"then do something about it." you teased and stood up and started to turn away when you were forcefully picked up and pinned to his bed. you could feel his length pressed against your now soaked panties.

"you know the correct buttons to push to piss me off, don't you." he pressed you down more into the mattress. you felt his hand come up and wrap around your throat snuggly. "harder." you giggled and you could basically feel the heat of anger radiate off of him.

he pushed himself off of your back and all you felt was your skirt being lifted up and a rip.

a gasp was all that you could get out before he rammed into your dripping hole. "fuck, princess." he groaned. "you're so tight for me." his one arm still pinned you against the bed as the sound of skin slapping echoed. a smooth beat being distributed by the speaker on his dresser.

you let him use your body as it only brought you pleasure. he let you up just so he could flip you on your back and carry you up the bed more to the pillows. he thought you were the most beautiful thing in the world; your hair fanned out across his pillows where your scent would drift him to sleep in the upcoming nights.

his hands got lost up your shirt, pulling your arms through and bringing the cloth off your head; the white fabric now somewhere in the room. his own was lost somewhere in the process of the beginning to now.

he guided your arms around his torso and just held you against his chest for a moment. his touch was gentle as he pulled your hair back softly and titled your head so you were looking up at him and laid the most gentlest of kisses against your lips. the kiss was absolutely breathtaking.

"we're gonna do this right the first time." he said and pushed you a little so both of you laying down. his kiss was draining you of all life and throwing you into this dazed and lovely second heaven it felt like.

he was slow and sensual now, pumping into you in a way that made you become calm and wanting more. his hands just felt every part of your body, making you fall deeper into this trance.

your hands were now entangled in his hair as he did everything he could to bring you even more pleasure as the minutes ticked by.

you were his own drug he tried and just can't get enough of.

"please don't stop." you whimpered against his lips and he swore he was in heaven in that moment. he made you go numb, stars dancing across your eyelids and heat fanned across your cheeks; eyes wet with immense amount of pleasure.

jae just looked at you in awe as you came undone around him. his own high not coming long after yours.

after you both finished; chests still heaving as you both tried to calm down.

he pulled out of you but your arms held onto him, holding his head under your chin.

you felt his heart slow as he became limp. you held him as his breath slowed and you knew he had dozed off. he instinctively held onto your waist as you pulled the sheets over both of your bodies.

the sun had begun to set outside of his window as your hands ran through his damp and still drying hair.

you knew that this was going to be a regular thing now. you just hope that his feelings are still there for you behind the wall of lust.

[laughablelament]

Knuckle Dusters (HBO SPN)

explicit wincest, tattoos, smoking, bottom dean

AO3 link

inspired by and dedicated to all you wonderful people sharing your hbo headcanons

--

Dean strolled out to the porch of the old cabin. Shook a Morley from the pack on the windowsill. He scanned the woods, digging in his pocket for his Zippo, wincing at the sting. He flick-clicked, lit up his smoke and leaned both forearms on the railing, studied the mojo Sam had just tattooed on his hands.

Scabby, shiny with the ointment Sammy had rubbed on to keep them from blowing out, eight sigils. Enochian. Symbols for blood and brotherhood and… Dean didn’t know. One on each finger, between his second and third knuckles.

“You’re not gonna be defenseless the next time Cas tries a beatdown,” Sam had said, mixing ash and blood and something Dean didn’t dare ask about into the ink. “They’ll be like knuckle dusters, and they’ll work on demons too.”

He took a deep drag. Puffed his cheeks on the exhale, too breezy for smoke rings. Trees rustled, frogs croaked, and katy-dids raised all kinds of racket. Dean turned his arms, looked over his growing gallery. He’d racked up a few witchy tatts since Sam took up with that demon whore. She was lying come-rag bitch but she knew useful shit. Kind of a shame he’d killed her so quick. Real shame he’d only got to kill her once.

He ran his finger over faded Roman numerals: May 2, 1983; July 19, 2006.

Lines from the Rituale wound in a ribbon toward his left wrist.

te rogamus, audi nos

Nice thought, if he could trust whoever was listening.

contremisce et effuge

That he could stand behind.

Creaking floor boards, slamming screen door, Dean nodded back over his shoulder and puffed his smoke. Offered Sam a drag but Sam passed.

“How’s it feel?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been to Hell, man, it’s fine.”

Sam moved up behind him, slid forward and wrapped Dean in his arms. “No, I meant… do you feel it?”

“I can feel that boner back there.” Dean himself had been half-mast ever since Sam got the needle in him. He squirmed his ass back and Sam chuckled. Started on Dean’s belt and tugged him backwards. Dean went along, shuffled his feet. Held onto the porch rail and his cigarette. Sam pulled his pants down; Dean arched. Sam’s knees thumped the floorboards behind him.

“Fuck yeah.” Dean sighed a cone of smoke towards the sky as Sam dove in. Wagged his tongue and licked in circles, put his back into it. Dean swayed, laid his forehead on his arms and shut his eyes. Shut it all out besides Sam’s marks aching on his fingers and Sam’s tongue digging in his ass. Spit-fucking, two days’ shadow scouring between his cheeks. Sam ate him wet and loose enough to get a finger in. Stretching, hooking, and screwing in him. Set him on fire.

Sam slapped his ass and pulled out rough. Dean jumped. Ash column fell off his burned-down smoke, singed the back of his hand. He flicked the filter to the driveway where it rolled and smoldered. Sam stood up. Came back slicker. Slid two fingers in Dean’s ass and felt around until his thighs shook and his dick leaked. He banged his fist on the rail. Wave after wave threatened to take his knees. Sam lit him up, wiggled in him, dragged thick fingers in and out.

Then Sam was pressing on the small of his back, and Dean breathed, and Sam’s cock blistered in him, not stretched enough, not wet enough. Dean squirmed against the sting and sucked Sam deeper. He groaned through his teeth when Sam pulled out, just the head inside, trickled cool lube on Dean’s split hole.

Hissing. “Shit, Sammy—”

Shoved in. Seized Dean’s hips and seesawed, knocked his teeth together. He gripped the porch rail and fucked back. Sam blanketed him. Covered Dean’s hands with his and Dean couldn’t help looking down at Sam’s companion ink, from the Rituale:

Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine.

Lord, free us from the devil’s snares.

Wasn’t that a fuckin’ joke?

Dean moved with Sam, moved against him until their rhythm started breaking down. Sam gave him a hand, heat and pleasure built. Obliterated him. Friction, sweat, and cuss words. Slapping skin. Sam yelled, Dean yelled. Knees went out, and Sam was all that stopped Dean from dropping cold. He shot all over his shirt, Sam’s hand, the chipped-painted floor. Got ahold of himself enough to milk Sam’s dick once before it slid out. Sam’s head laid heavy between Dean’s shoulder blades. Breath came fast and shallow. Come dribbled down Dean’s thighs. He eased them to their knees. Let Sam hang on him, arms hooked tight around him and spent cock rubbing up his back. He shivered as he petted Sam’s hand.

“Christ, man, whatever’s got into you today, we oughta get more of it.” He turned his head and nipped his brother’s jaw.

Sam dragged them down to a seated position, Dean between his legs. Damn floor was cold on Dean’s bare, wet butt. Sam lifted Dean’s hands and inspected his work.

“We should look for demon omens, huh?” Dean suggested. “Take these babies for a test drive.”

Sam thumbed Dean’s knuckles, kept clear of the fresh ink. “Let’s let them heal for a couple of weeks.”

“Couple of weeks?” Dean protested.

Sam squeezed Dean between his thighs. Belt and zipper jabbed Dean’s lower back. “Don’t worry.” Sam nipped his ear. Mumbled, “I can keep you plenty occupied.”

--

AO3 link

[when-to-sit-in-silence]

Can you make a part 2 to Joyce getting hurt in Kamchatka? Fast forward months later something romantic and angsty with Hopper and her demogorgon scars?

Read the first part here. 

Content Warning for discussions of scars and traumatic injury. 

Joyce had this hard look in her eye, a look like she was trying to shatter the mirror. Her fingers curled around the edge of the bathroom counter as she very slightly, as if to the rhythm of her breath, rocked back and forth on her toes. She’d gotten out of the shower five minutes ago, just finished brushing out her damp hair, and now, wrapped in her bathrobe, didn’t seem to notice Hopper as he stepped into the room beside her, eyes following the line between her real gaze and the one reflected back at her. 

He reached for his toothbrush and turned on the faucet. “Joyce?”

She heard him. The stoniness in her face cracking a bit, Joyce flinched. 

Hopper applied the toothpaste and stuck the brush in his mouth. A hand settled on her back. “You okay?” 

“Mm. Fine.” Joyce glanced down. So solid and severe just a moment ago, she now hovered over the sink looking sick. Her grip on the counter turned bone-white. Her lips disappeared into a thin line. She said nothing else as Hopper spent the next minute or so brushing his teeth, running his hand between her shoulder blades. 

“Something happen today?” he mumbled. Joyce leaned back as he went to spit in the sink, not letting go of the counter. She didn’t answer his question, but he figured that was as good an answer as any. She’d been quiet since she returned from work that evening, seemed checked out at dinner, which was unusual. Jonathan had commented on it, but Joyce flashed a smile and told him she was just tired. 

Nowadays, “tired” wasn’t an excuse anybody in the house believed from anybody else.

But it did shut them all up. Temporarily, at least. 

Hopper rinsed his toothbrush. “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.” 

“It’s nothing. It’s just -” One hand released the counter and started to reach up for her face. It paused on its way there, like Joyce was worried that what she’d touch might burn her, but then her index and middle finger pressed into her brow bone. “You know.” 

“Bothering you today?” 

Her eyelids fell closed. “Somewhat.” 

Hopper slowly went to take her hand, thumb brushing up against the center of her palm. Joyce’s fingers bent away from her brow. She settled her knuckles on her cheek and sighed, head low, turned slightly away from him. 

Then she said, “Yeah.” 

“Come on.” Still holding her hand, Hopper led her from the bathroom to their bed. There was something in the way they both sank towards the mattress, careful and slow but with all their weight and all their breath, that spoke of abiding weariness through a creaky sigh. They had lumbered through the last several months as if nothing waited for them on the other side, staggering across uneven terrain that promised not to level out. They were together and that made them happy, gave them the stamina to move along at a steady pace, even as they tripped into the darkness, even as shadows fell over them like nets thrown from hidden corners, catching them tangled up within themselves. Hopper had been trapped in a maze like this before. He was trapped all over again. Though he could see Joyce, though he gripped her tired hand, he could not always see the path she stumbled along, just as she could not always see his. But they looked. And when they caught a glimpse, it was like a star bolting through the dark. 

Hopper looked at her now. He cupped the left side of her face, fingertips massaging the scalp behind her ear. Joyce leaned into his touch. She faced the lamplight. Starting at the corner of her brow and ending just shy of the the bridge of her nose was bold, discolored line, carved from the longest claw of a Demogorgan’s hand three months ago. Her left eye was clouded by the scar. Her pretty dark brown iris appeared a milky gray in this light. Joyce was almost totally blind in that eye now. A doctor had told them her vision might have been saved had they gotten to her sooner (had the eye not been slashed open several stories beneath a Russian prison in the middle of a winter wasteland), but having been there, having held her while his prison uniform was gradually drenched in the blood and fluid leaking from the fissure, Hopper hadn’t any hope for it at all. 

Joyce didn’t know how to explain it to people - that was her biggest worry when they made it home, that she couldn’t decide what to tell those too curious not to ask. Hopper said to say it was a knife. Joyce didn’t want to have to tell a whole fake story when people inevitably wanted to know more about who the hell pulled a knife on her and sliced her across the face. That was the thing about scars, is that they came with stories. Some stories are boring, like when people have their appendices removed. Some are about getting drunk and falling into a glass table. And some are like Joyce’s; they don’t want to be told. 

But when people did ask - coworkers, mostly, who’d last seen her with a perfectly unmarked face and saw her next with a bandage over her eye and stitches in her brow - she did tell them it was a knife. She didn’t know what she planned to say in the moment, but that was the sentence that left her mouth, “It was an accident. With a knife.” They wanted to know more, but she left them all with, “I don’t want to talk about it,” and nobody could really argue with that.

She didn’t like being stared at. Back in Hawkins, the appearance of Joyce Byers might elicit a few side-eyed glances from the people who knew her and a couple more from strangers still unfamiliar with her electric and restless disposition, especially in the last few years of living there. But here in California, Joyce had been invisible. That was something she was getting used to until it wasn’t possible anymore, and instead of swift glances, she got long, captivated stares. People on the street and in the grocery store and at work who couldn’t take their eyes off that shocking scar until she looked at them to make them stop. It was a scar straight out of some Hollywood film meant to make the hero or the villain look like that much more of a badass, except Joyce wasn’t six feet tall, rippling with muscle and the confidence of a machine. She was small and had grown quiet in public. The want to disappear was written all over her. 

But Hopper could never get enough of looking at Joyce. There was a time he thought he’d never see her or El or anybody else he cared for ever again. He tried to accept it. He tried to stitch that hole in his heart shut so he’d have the strength to survive everything else that prison beat into him, but then he held Joyce in his arms again, he wrapped Eleven up in his embrace like a gift, and all that pain came pouring out. He loved them so much. He’d never let go or look away if he had the choice. 

“I know,” he murmured, though it’s been a minute since she’d said anything. Joyce blinked at him, then shut her eyes, looking like all her weight was propped on the hand still resting against her face. Hopper asked again, “Did something happen today?” 

She gave a small, affirming sigh. 

“What?”

“My arm.” Joyce brushed a hand down the right sleeve of her robe. “It’s fine. Really, it’s…someone at work saw and…I mean, I’m okay. It’s okay.”

Hopper bit the inside of his cheek. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He pulled back his hand. Since returning from Kamchatka, Joyce, despite the California heat, had only worn long-sleeved shirts in public to cover up the scars that were much more challenging to lie about. She seemed to resent them less than than she resented her eye - they, at least, could be hidden - but that didn’t erase their story either. 

Joyce stood up, walking from the bedside to the hook on the bathroom door as she started to untie the knot around her waist. “A pen exploded on me today. All over my shirt,” she explained. “I ran to the bathroom and took it off to try to rinse out the ink before I was done for, but there was no saving it. It was a nice shirt too.” 

“And someone walked in?” Hopper said. 

“Yeah, my co-worker. There I am in a tank top trying to rinse this shit out, my right side is facing the door, and Kelly walks in and she goes, ‘Is it coming out?’ And then she stands there staring at me. Maybe just for a couple seconds but it felt like forever. I felt naked.”

Having hung the robe on the hook, Joyce returned to the bedside, dressed in pajama shorts and a t-shirt. She rolled up the right sleeve, and held her arm out to the lamplight, rotating it back and forth to show off the pattern of dozens of small white scars drawn into her skin with a kind of absurd mathematical perfection, like they’d been applied by a machine. Evenly spaced, equally prominent, they were not so much jarring to look at as incredibly interesting, and Hopper has not been the only person in the house to admit that they were kinda cool. Some days, Joyce thought so too. But the teeth of a Demogorgan couldn’t serve as an explanation to anybody that hasn’t met one. 

“Did she say something?” asked Hopper as Joyce sat down again. 

“I don’t think she knew what to say. I mean, what would you think? What could do this?” Joyce rolled her sleeve back down. “She could tell I was uncomfortable with her seeing it, so she just gave me this weird smile and handed me an extra shirt she had. I asked her not to mention it. Really, I don’t know what my coworkers think I’ve gotten into, if I was tortured or abused or, Lord, if I even did this to myself.” Joyce shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I worry they think something’s wrong with me.”

“Joyce,” Hopper said gently. He pulled her closer, an arm snug around her waist. “They don’t think that.”

“They have enough reason to. I’m not exactly the most right-in-the-head person working there.” 

He chuckled. “Probably not even in this house.” 

“Definitely not,” she agreed, with a smile like a firefly. She rested her face against his shoulder, peering up into his face with that one seeing eye of hers, glittering faintly with light that never died. “Do you want to know something about scars?”

“What?”

“They actually make you feel just a little less crazy. You can…see on your skin a little bit of what’s in your head.”

Hopper’s chest tightened, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He knew exactly what she meant, and she could see that, judging by the way her face changed and she went to plant a kiss on his shoulder. 

He had scars of his own. Most were invisible. Most were sounds exploding through the back of his head. Most were memories that could never stay memories. They had to keep rushing up from the past to carry him away. Miles away. An ocean away. His scars came with stories, but he couldn’t always tell the words from the real thing. He didn’t want to see them on his body. He wouldn’t be able to recognize himself anymore. 

But Joyce had scars like that too. They weren’t all carried in the lines on her skin. She and Hopper got to know about both kinds of permanent marks, whether or not they were visible, and find a way to be whole with them all. 

Hopper kissed her forehead, and then her mouth. Joyce’s fingertips caressed his stubble as she returned the gesture, her tense body relaxing against him. Hopper held her tight, held her the way he always tried to hold her, like he was never going to let go. 

“You okay?” he asked when they broke away, threading his fingers through her hair. 

“Yeah,” she answered. She almost touched her eye, and then placed her hand back on his jaw. “I’m okay, Hop.”

“I love you, you know. Every part of you. I’m here for it all.” 

She smiled affectedly and pulled him back for another kiss. Into his lips, she whispered, “I love all of you too.” 

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Skin-Walker/Nature Spirit Boyfriend: Daithi 2

I felt guilty last time when the first part ended with the death of a character (spoiler) so, I thought I would add more to it and try and bring a happier ending to it all. I hope you enjoy it.

Themes: death and mortality, moving on, all that depressing stuff.

Genderless reader x Male monster 

PART 1 

Can’t Pretend Part 2 

Skin supple once had aged like curdled milk, the roots of old flowers had brought them to the weeds, just like those and their faces you knew that grew up in their stages – growing then thriving then leaving - all the same, except you were the exception.

Life had been too cruel enough to make you stay to watch everyone leave around you, even when you hadn’t needed them a very long time ago.

Your child first, your womb had quickened into dust and quicksand, the bane of your existence to have a child with your husband and to thrive as a family was taken from you the first and last time; your womb a crypt for your babe that never made it out.

Your husband was next to leave: from when growing old together had brought the good and bad of memories, he was too frail to the end of it all, his lovely trinkets and fishing pole still left on the mantle where he had left it from his youth; the wedding present he had given.

Your days in matrimonial to Erik were sincere and fond, the bricks you both laid one by one to build a foundation of trust had stayed sturdy and upright after he left, the very existence of your home was an example of it all. Even during the building of your marriage, you found yourself thinking to your youth: to the times of thinking you were not desirable, more so now just cursed than lucky to outlive everyone.

Daithi… you thought of him a lot.

You awoke with your bone old and frail as usual, the heartfelt soreness made up for how you wrapped in bundles to fend off the eternal colds of the seasons, leaving with little more than a cane to get you out of your door. 

The nature surrounding you hadn’t changed, the people had – in the youthful children running around to young lovers - you kept yourself happy in the best ways as possible, even when everything felt futile.

You tottered but got around as best as you could even in the prime of age, your cane helpful to help you go to the clearing you had gone to many times before. Every day, without fail. 

The soil was cold but crunched with each step you took, the path had been covered over in snow and moss as you crossed the small river with its rickety old bridge you had seen built 3 decades ago. And still, no-one had repaired it.

Your head craned upwards suddenly when you heard a caw above your head just to see fly past two crows in a loving pairing, fly to their nest to feed their young. You frowned, your hopes too high once more.

You continued onward, ignoring all signs of what you wanted in it being him, staggering up the hill to reach the top, where the air was at its coldest and you were wheezing and cold.

“Even now, you would love how nothing has changed, Daithi.” You hummed to yourself, onlooking the rows of small stone huts that had been once made of straw and little else, the coal and fires that burnt out and danced above the treeline whilst you looked onward at the large lake.

“Do you remember Dalia? Well, she had her babes in the frail spring. Two boys, bright as rain and bold as fire. She says they always go out into these woods to climb the trees.” You laughed to yourself in thought, “I’d imagine you would give them a good scolding.”

You listened to how the air calmed and surrounded you as one as you leant over a lovely yet old oak tree, as old as you had been or even older, onlooking the view. “I always imagined what it would be like… the other side. How morbid, I know, but… even if it’s cold and lonely, I think—I’d like to think I’m ready.” You rubbed your slender fingers to keep the warmth as best as you could, wincing at the pain in your joints.

“What is it like, Daithi? Is it different for you or do you have all walks of life with you?” You found yourself here to think and pray, pray to any old cold God that was out there to hear your prayers, making you believe that your wishes were all for your own misery.

“I don’t even know if I will ever see you again, or Erik or mother. But that’s okay—I think, I’d like to believe that there is peace out there, away from all of this, and that you are all happy.” The cold nipped harder at your skin, leaving you practically shivering with little to no fibre in your body allowing you to move.

“Will these same cruel Gods be kind enough to give me closure? Is my time now, I wonder?” You closed your eyes, thinking back to the days of youth and skin supple and your legs carrying you long and far enough that you didn’t grow so tired.

You had been 10 when you remembered the distant memory: under a willow tree that wept tears with you, hiding you with its billowing leaves and branches, you cried that day over something so feebly that the other children had laughed over, leaving you to run as far off as you could away from your village that day – in hopes of running away altogether.

‘You know, if you had stayed five seconds longer, you would’ve witnessed a small crow threaten them all.’

Your head rose swiftly when you met the comforting smile and light eyes of the skin-walker, ‘Daithi!’ You beamed tears of silver that leaked down your face as you leapt into his arms, his long strong ones wrapping around your sturdily and protectively, never seeming to want to let you go.

‘You gave me quite the scare, little one,’ you breathed in his scent as he gently spoke to you, calming you down quickly, ‘I was worried about you.’ He inspected you of any wounds, except for a few scratches and bruises.

‘Did you do that for me? Did you scare them off for me?’ You whimpered whilst you dried your tears. Daithi seemed to be taken back by your question as if you didn’t believe his words at all. “My dear, I would risk my own life to save you, you know that, don’t you?’

You nodded innocently, not realising his words would seemingly come true. Did you risk your own life for me, Daithi? Why? You could still be living and breathing now, young and never ageing for aeons.

“Daithi, oh, Daithi, how I miss you.” The tears like that day fell down your wrinkly cheeks thickly, dribbling down your chin and dampening your shawl. “Life has been so cruel, and you were taken from me before I had the chance to love you truly. I miss you so.”

By the time you realised, the wind had stilled and there was no cold nor bite that stung your skin when you had been freezing earlier – in fact, you couldn’t feel anything at all. It wasn’t terrifying nor scary, but soothing and calming, as if you had been reunited with an old friend.

When you lifted your head in reaction and realisation to this, the sky had changed in colours, as if you had been up the hill all day, now a sky full of lavender and pink, milky clouds littering the sky in wonder and amazement.

Out of the corner of your eye, a lone ink-black feather floating to land just at the heel of your foot, drifting away in the thin air.

There, in the distance, the faint sound of a bird’s wings fluttering in the distance, a shriek of a caw echoing along the buoyant trees.

“Little one?” You turned your head abruptly, feeling no pain if you had done so earlier, your body picking yourself up as you looked to the person standing before you like a God. “Oh, Gods… it’s you.”

The nature spirit hadn’t looked any different but just as comely as you had remembered in your youth. His skin wasn’t sickly nor wan, no blood blotting your skin as he stood before you like an illusion.

“It’s you, how—it can’t be, not yet.” Were his words of shock as he stumbled his way towards you, gingerly holding out his hand as you brought him into a warm embrace.

“What do you mean ‘not yet?’” You questioned sombrely, “Do you know how many decades have gone by? And now you want me to leave?”

“No—no, I don’t, but it is not your time to leave.” He cradled you, and when you met his gaze, his eyes were glassy, as if the fog of his pupils were dissipating. He was taking you in, silently marvelling you, “You’re still incredible like I remember, little one.”

“What, even in my wrinkled state?” You laughed dryly, stroking his hair back, as smooth as if he was real. “Are you… dead?”

“Yes, but your memory of me has kept me alive all this time.” He smiled through his tears, “ I’ve been here with you all this time, watching you grow through the good and bad. I was there when you laughed when you cried, I never left.”

You finally allowed more tears to fall, your hands shakily trailing over his flesh, when he halted you. “But you cannot stay here, you must go back.”

“I do not want to, Daithi. Please, I don’t want to go back, not again. Never have I felt a day so warm here with you in front of me right now.” 

Daithi brought his fingers to cradle the back of your neck, his long fingers stroking at your jaw. “Are you sure?”

“Is it… terrifying?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he assured you in what you believed was acceptance, “look around you, dear. Everything has to die soon: the little flowers, the trees, those of your village. But there are things that still stay, the moon, the sun, the rain that doesn’t stop dripping. The fear eventually stops, and the calm comes after the storm. And it’s beautiful.”

You smiled sadly, breathing in his scent of mint and pine. “If this is what the afterlife is like then, why would I want to leave so soon?”

Daithi smiled in comfort, hugging you back with no intention of letting you go. “It’s been too long, dear.”

You nodded, and when your hand came to cradle his fingers, you found yourself looking to the flesh of your own. Your skin was no longer wrinkly and there was no joint pain: your skin was smooth and supple once more, the sudden realisation had taken a toll on you as you leant up to kiss the skin-walker against his lips. “I know, but I’m here now.”

Warm, reassuring and tender. You had missed him so.

[womansharry]

SHE

Chapter 3 - Arrivederci Roma

read chapters 1 and  2 here!

The bright sunshine was streaming into the hotel room when Juliet opened her eyes. It took a second for her eyes to adjust. Once they did she realized that she was not alone nor was she in her hotel room. She rolled over to see Harry sleeping next to her. He looked so peaceful, his features were soft in the early morning light.

Juliet noticed their clothes laying haphazardly on the floor. An indication that they had been in a rush to get them off last night. She took a second to recall the events from the night before. She had left the afterparty with Harry. They had walked around the city some before heading to his hotel. She was surprised at how she felt about last night. She didn't regret sleeping with him at all. It had been good, so good. But she couldn't help the nagging feeling that she felt. She knew who he was. He was Harry Styles, a global rockstar. He was a household name. And Juliet was sure that he would get on a flight, go back to London and she would never hear from him again. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table and checked social media. Luckily, there hadn't been any picture of her and Harry leaked to the press. Not that she really would have minded. But she knew that if she was seen out with him, everyone in the world would assume that they were dating.

She felt him stir beside her.

"Morning, sleep well?" His voice was hoarse and laced with sleep. It made her heart swell.

"Good morning. Yeah, I did. Did you?" Juliet put her phone down and rolled over to face him. He really did look so handsome. His skin adorned with ink. She let her eyes wander from tattoo to tattoo. She quite liked the swallows on his chest.

"Mhmm. What's ya plan for the day?" He asked quietly, his eyes took her body in.

"Well, I planned on working this morning and then catching my flight back home later." She told him. For a second a looked of disappointment flashed across Harry's face. It was only there a split second before he gave her a tiny smile.

"Ya on a trip to Rome and ya wanna hole up in ya hotel room and work? C'mon Jules, we could go see the coliseum or we could go back to the Capitoline Museums." He tucked an arm under his head and looked over at her.

"You were at the show last night weren't you?" She asked.

"Yeah, I was."

"I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I thought I saw you in a crowd of people, then you were gone."

"Well, 'm right here now. And I think ya should go have some fun before ya go back home." He gave her his signature smile. It was the kind that made his eyes crinkle. How on earth could she say no to him?

"Okay, but I don't have any clothes. How about I go to my hotel and get ready. I'll shower and change and meet you there?" She suggested. This plan seemed to make the most sense. They'd leave the hotel separately and arrive at the museum separately. No one would know that she'd been with him since last night.

"I know it's hard to go out in public with someone that has a lot of fans. We might be photographed. Are ya okay with that?" There was nothing boastful about his tone. He was simply asking a question.

"No, it won't bother me."

"Okay, ya know I'd never put ya in a situation that ya were uncomfortable with. Ever. 'M sure it'll be for the best if we meet at the museum. How about 11? I'll text ya when I get there." She grinned at him from her spot on the bed. She stood up and put her clothes from last night on.

"Perfect. I'll see you there." She gave him one last smile as she opened the door.

"Bye Jules."

___

The whole time Juliet was getting ready, she couldn't stop thinking about Harry. He was so intoxicating, taking up her every thought.

The way he talked and said her name, the way his emerald green eyes sparkled, the way his lips felt against hers. She was completely and utterly enamored.

Juliet pulled on her favorite pair of Levi jeans and a cream silk tank top. She put the same sneakers on that she had worn yesterday.

She couldn't fight the butterflies in her stomach as her Uber approached the Capitoline Hill. Harry had sent her a text message telling her that he would meet her right inside. He had also told her that he had a ticket for her.

She smiled when she saw him. He was leaning against a column looking through a phamplet. His brown hair was messy and he wore a white t-shirt tucked into his grey trousers. He had a blue neck scarf on and he had stuck his sunglasses on it. She admired him from a far. She loved seeing his tattoos on his tan skin against the stark white of the shirt.

"You can speak Italian?" She asked as she approached him.

"Bits and pieces yeah, but right now I'm reading the English translation." He chuckled and handed her the ticket. Once they had given a lady the tickets they walked through the hallways and into a room full of marble busts.

"There's something so satisfying about walking through a museum." Juliet said quietly as they walked through the gilded room. Harry nodded as they approached a large statue of a roman soldier that was wounded.

"'S so lifelike." He said just loud enough for Juliet to hear. She liked this side of Harry. But, to be fair, she hadn't met a side of him that she didn't like. He was so kind, compassionate, smart and not to mention handsome.

"It's amazing." Juliet was awestruck and not just with the suplutrues all around her. She was awestruck with this man standing before her.

"Yea," He smiled at her. They continued their trek through the museum, stopping to admire pieces here and there. Juliet couldn't remember the last time she had felt this good. She felt so at ease, so happy.

"Harry, why don't you come back to my hotel. I'll order some lunch."

"'d like that Jules."

---

"So, you went on the X-Factor and then never really went back home?" They had finished lunch a while ago. They were now sitting on the balcony of Juliet's hotel room sharing stories and talking about their lives.

"'S pretty much it, yeah. I never expected it to be this way. Sometimes I truly can't believe that this is my life. I get to do the things I love. Best fans in the world." Juliet swore that Harry's eyes had glossed over but a second later they were back to normal.

"Well, you're really good at the things you do. I've only known you for a few weeks, but you're such a nice guy. And your music is really good."

"My music?" He eyed her and gave her a miscevious grin.

"I've listened to it before, yeah." He leaned across the table.

"Told ya not to say things like that. I'm a bit of a narcissist." She smiled.

"Well, sometimes that's okay. I'd say you have the right to be a bit narcissistic Harry." She crossed her arms. She loved this playful banter. Everything with Harry came so easy to her.

"Appreciate it. 'S always nice to have someone in my corner." She looked at her phone and saw the time. It was almost 3. She had been dreading this since she woke up in his bed this morning.

"Harry, I've got to start packing. I need to be heading to the airport soon." He gave her a sad smile.

"Can I help? 'd be more than happy to."

"No, it's okay.I don't have much anyway." She stood up and they walked back into her room.

"Listen Jules, I've had the best day with ya. Ya make me feel good." It was such a simple statement but it made Juliet want to pull him close and stay in this hotel room forever. She decided not to say anything just yet. He pulled her in his arms and held her for a minute. When she finally pulled away, she looked at him with a bittersweet smile.

"Come to New York soon?" She asked and he nodded.

"Can I kiss ya?" He asked her. She felt warmth spread through her body. She smiled and gave him a small nod and within a second his lips were on hers. She wanted to stay in this moment forever, but he pulled away.

He kissed her forehead before whispering, "I'll be seeing ya Jules." He gave her a longing look before walking out of the hotel room. And just like that he was gone. Juliet sat down on the bed and looked down at her hands. He had just left and she already felt so empty. Maybe he wouldn't forget her. Maybe she would see him again. The sooner the better.

---

Juliet landed in New York at midnight. Cal was waiting on her outside of JFK. The ride from the airport to her apartment would take around 45 minutes if they were lucky. Cal pulled out of the parking lot and looked at Juliet in the rearview mirror.

"Did you have a good trip Juliet?" He was so nice. He had been her driver since she moved into her own apartment after college. He was an older man that had lived in NYC his entire life. He was always there when Juleit needed him. She was so thankful for him.

"Oh, yeah it was incredible." She yawned.

"I'll let you sleep then." He smiled as he focused his attention back on the road. Juliet felt her phone vibrate in her bag. She pulled it out and read her newest text message. It was from Harry.

H: Jules, you're probably just now getting back home. Hope your flight was good. I miss you already. H xx

Her heart was beating fast. She smiled thinking of him, laying in bed. His hair was probably messed up from being asleep. He had gotten up so early just to text her. She responded almost immediately.

J: I'm on my way into the city now, it was actually a smooth flight. Thank goodness. Thanks for asking. I miss you too H.

She put her phone down beside her and leaned back into the seat. She felt so happy and content. Now that she had this feeling, she didn't know if she could ever live without it.

[patrickstargang]

To Heal (Shadow of Kyoshi fic)

Chapter 1: The Other Side of Peace

Chapter 2: Master and Student

Chapter 3: A Cause for Celebration

Chapter 4: Taking Off The Mask

Chapter 5: Call to Action

Epilogue

*Disclaimer: this entire fic is a massive spoiler for Shadow of Kyoshi so if you haven’t read it I would recommend doing so before reading this

The great rain that had poured over the Fire Nation’s crops seemed to have traveled all the way to Yokoya. Luckily the strength of the storm had died down since then, as it could have brought caution for flooding the town’s harbor. The patter of water droplets against the wooden boards of the Avatar estate was a calming ambiance, a perfect sound to continue sleeping if it hadn’t leaked through the ceiling. One leak, in particular, was right above Rangi, becoming a nuisance as she slowly woke up.

Her eyes squinted, rubbing them to clear her vision. Once she came to her senses, she noticed something was off. A different air to the room. She glanced at the other side of the bed to find Kyoshi wasn’t there. The lack of an impression on the cushion signaled that she had been up for a while. At the same time, while Rangi noticed the change in the room, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence either. Kyoshi had been up earlier than practically everyone since they agreed to reside in the estate. But she also noticed that Kyoshi would stay up later than everyone else, a new concern added on for Rangi to worry about. She sighed deeply, hoping today would have been a change of pace.

Rangi stood up firmly from the bed. She didn’t require her walking cane anymore, as the progress on her health was faster than anyone would have expected considering how serious the injury was. She solemnly dressed in the usual Fire Nation military attire and arranged her hair into a topknot. She made her way through the hallways of the estate, some still battered after their fight with Yun. They were painful reminders of the events that conspired many days ago, but also for a time where they were blissfully unaware of the deception Jianzhu had enacted.

Rangi came to an open space in the estates, a space without a roof that would have been used as a garden one day, but for now, was just a big patch of grass for visitors to enjoy the outside air. This was where she usually found Kyoshi, trying to converse with her past lives or prepping the negotiations for Fire Lord Zoryu to admonish the Saowan clan of their charges. But she didn’t find her here. All that was left was a tea set, with a cup filling with rain that poured out onto the grass, and a half-peeled orange.

Skipping meals again? She thought to herself in disappointment. She stared out through the wall of rain that separated the creaky wooden coverings from the soft dirt of the grassy patch. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the door to a room that was slightly open with light peering out of the crack. Rangi straightened her eyes and made her way to the room, ignoring the tea set for now.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rangi slid the door open with hesitation, mostly due to how jittery the frames became over numerous months without being replaced. She found Kyoshi, hunched over a table with an ink canister to her left, a lit candle to her right, and a letter containing Lao Ge’s updates on the Fire Nation in her hands. She broke her attention from the letter to see Rangi standing at the doorway.

“Hey,” Rangi wore a slight but sincere smile on her face. Kyoshi returned it back. She made her way to Kyoshi’s side, focusing her attention on the towering woman while she brought her attention back to the letter. “What's new today?”

“Not much, it seems that Zoryu’s keeping his end of the bargain, but we’re still keeping an eye on him just in case he decides to throw out the plan. So far he's been talking with a few of his chancellors to remove some of the Saowan clan from house arrest, but there's still those that were put in prison. Lao Ge will let me know if he gets out of line. And if he does, well…..you know.”

The warmth that Kyoshi radiated when Rangi first walked into the room quickly faded away. She knew that disposing of Zoryu was always going to be a possibility, but the thought of having to kill again to keep some perceived form of “peace” was continuing to strain her mind. This feeling transformed her face to a mask, one that was stoic and devoid of emotion.

Rangi’s concerns came back in full force. She would be lying if she said that she was truly behind this plan. It went against her own code of honor that she has been following since childhood. In fact, it went against her own basic morals. But she knew that the situation was dire, many people's lives might be on the line. She also knew that it wasn’t the easy solution, Kyoshi knows the ripple effect this would have across the Fire Nation. It was a last resort and nothing else. With time, Rangi started to understand why Kyoshi worked in the ways that she did. But it still felt wrong to her.

Rangi turned her head to the side, trying to hide her face. Kyoshi’s lips parted as she was about to say something to her, but decided against it. Then a different thought came into her head.

“Also….your mother will be here later today. Along with Sifu Atut.”

Rangi huffed, reverting back to a familiar expression, that of annoyance. “Great,” she said sarcastically. “I can’t wait.”

“I’m not excited to see your mother either, but it means you’ll get the proper healing for your wound.” Kyoshi then took a curious look at Rangi, examining her more sturdy posture. “But come to think of it, you’ve bounced back a lot more than I thought you would. I said you might catch a fever but I haven’t seen any signs.”

This relaxed Rangi from the previous topic as her annoyance quickly subsided into playfulness. “Maybe my strong will has been keeping me alive.” She gave her a cheeky glance as Kyoshi rolled her eyes at the firebender’s comment.

Then Rangi slipped her hand into Kyoshi’s, softly entwining their fingers. “Or maybe its that I have a great healer.”

Kyoshi tried to hide her slight embarrassment before Rangi gave her a kiss on her temple. For this point in their relationship, a gesture like that might have appeared childish, but it broke the tension with a bit of sweetness. They both laughed, enjoying each other's company as they let their current responsibilities be set aside for just a brief moment.

But it didn’t take long for reality to set back in for Kyoshi. Something else was on her mind, something that wasn’t the future of the Fire Nation. She thought about what might become of the woman she loved. Her recovery has been steady, but there was still the pressing question of permanent internal damage. The thought began to fester deeper into the back of her mind. She began to grapple with the thought that maybe she didn’t really save her. Her mind began to drift to those she tried to save, but couldn’t. She felt like she let her guard down again, allowing fate to take another jab.

Rangi was still smiling, she was caught up in the moment. But her face changed as she remembered why she came to her in the first place. “Well, I’ve actually got something I need to ask you. Have you been skipping meals again?”

Kyoshi stayed silent for a good while, eventually bowing her head down.

“Kyoshi, we’ve been through this! You can’t keep doing that, it's not healthy. Especially for someone under as much stress as you are. You need to eat.”

Kyoshi sighed, but tried to conceal it. She wished stress was all there was, but it was much more than that. Her sigh quickly became a chuckle. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry so much about me.”

“But I do! You’ve been like this ever since we met back at the palace. I’ve been trying to help you get back on a normal eating schedule, but now I think it's only gotten worse.”

Kyoshi slowly turned to face Rangi. She looked like she was struggling to keep the mask on, pretending that everything is okay. “Its fine. I don’t want you to worry about my health, not when you haven’t gotten proper treatment for your wound.”

Something about the way Kyoshi said those last few words unsettled her. Before she might have said that in a somewhat combative tone, but now she sounded soft and withered. It wasn’t just her voice either, she looked tired. Not the kind of tired that could be cured with a good night’s sleep, something more than that.

“Besides, I don’t mind being hungry.”

Rangi didn’t know much about Kyoshi’s childhood in the streets but hearing this gave her a different perspective on everything. She knew what it was like to live off of rations from her time in the Academy, but she never knew what it was like to not know if you could even find a morsel for the next day. This was a feeling she never had the displeasure of knowing.

And it filled her with anger. The same kind of anger she had back at the lake in Hujiang. Part of it was anger at Kyoshi, for feeling like she might deserve any of this. That she deserved any of the horrible turns that have taken outside of her own control. But another part of it was at the world, for making her believe she deserved this pain. To say she got a real deal on life was a gross understatement. She didn’t deserve to punish herself for what the world had done to her.

But Rangi had to conceal that anger. Expressing her outrage wouldn’t help anybody. It was a feeling she would have to tackle someday soon, but today wasn’t that day. What Kyoshi needed was food. “Well, who's taking care of who now? Like it or not you need something to eat-”

Right as Rangi was getting up, she felt a tug at her wrist. Kyoshi was holding on to her tightly.

“B-Before you do that, could you stay here. Just for a little bit. I’m almost done with the letter, then you can make me eat whatever you want.”

Rangi looked down into her eyes, comforted by the sincerity of her words. She wasn’t putting on a mask right now. Without hesitation, she sat back down next to Kyoshi and laid her head against her shoulder. Kyoshi let out a long, breezy sigh as she returned to the letter.

Kyoshi was once again enveloped in a warmth that she missed for some time. Even after they reunited, they didn’t always get the chance to be alone. It felt like something she dearly needed right now. But moments of peace caused suspicion and worry in Kyoshi. Her life had always taken a turn into tragedy right in the middle of peaceful moments. A sinking feeling crept up on her, a sinking feeling about nothing she could identify. Her mind went to Rangi’s injuries again. She thought about the news she might get from Atut once she heals her. What would it mean for the rest of their lives? She wished she could silence these thoughts. That they could all just fade away.

As she finished the letter, Kyoshi attempted to calm her senses by focusing on Rangi’s breathing and the sound of rain coming from the open doorway.

[aonrivers]

Pregnancy, Birth, Postpartum, and Baby Time! (TMI warning) - Part 01

Recently I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. For nine months I read articles and expectations of things to happen and to come, but honestly nothing prepared me for the truth of it all. Sure my friends told me some stuff, but nothing like what I experienced.

I’ve decided to write the nitty gritty of it all along with tips for new moms that I wish I had too. This is going to be major TMI, but when you've given birth, nothing seems like TMI anymore - especially because in the labor room you've got about ten people you've never met before (yes, even your doctor) staring at your asshole and your crotch. With introductions out of the way, are you ready? Here we go!

Part 1 of IDK how many...

Truths about being pregnant:

1) First and foremost... Officially remove negative people in your life the moment that stick says positive. This is Tip #1. I planned on doing this for months before I got pregnant but being pregnant pushed me to do it sooner. I was tired of being stressed out and having negative things told me by certain people in my life and I wasn't going to have it continue during one of the most stressful and most beautiful times of my life. I closed the door on many friendships during my first few weeks and even though it still bugs me that I had to do it, I'm glad I did and recommend others to do the same (even when you aren't pregnant). 2) Tip #2 I can offer is either before or during your pregnancy, plan a vacation. I was on vacation when I got pregnant and planned a trip with my best friend when I hit mid third trimester (would've been sooner but 2020 was a hellish year for the world). 3) I bought a belly book after a few weeks of finding out I was pregnant. My friend recommended it and it was really cool to document every week and my thoughts and post my belly bump pictures, but then second trimester hit and the book was wrong... I ignored it until the third trimester hit and it was wrong again. What was wrong with it? They claimed my trimesters started in certain weeks that were 2-3 weeks off. I Googled my trimesters and checked multiple sites - the book was wrong. So I finally said screw it and created my own. I bought a scrapbook (use a Michael's coupon, that shit is expensive) and I began to craft my own book. 4) A huge suggestion: take those belly bump pictures!! It sounds silly but it's super cool to have. Not only do you get to see your belly growing, but you can put those pictures in your scrapbook like I did. I took the same pose in the same place every Friday. Then I found a really cool app that you could put words on your images and ended up doing that for my Instagram posts. 5) My 3rd tip is make sure you have a really good relationship with your doctor and they believe in the same things you do. I think this is important because I wasn't happy with the thought of being pregnant with my normal doctor then I ended up not being happy half the time with the doctors I went to while pregnant. I wish I had that doctor patient relationship you think every pregnant lady has. I kind of had that with my crazy, beady-eyed doctor I had seen for thirteen years, but when it came time to have a child, she just didn't align with me. She was pro everything I'm not and became a little too radical for me. Be who you wanna be, believe and think what you wanna believe and think, but don't push that shit on me - and that's the direction she started going. So in the end, I left her and went with my friend's doctor... Who happened to have 5+ doctors and a midwife.... Midwife was cool and maybe two of the doctors, but the rest I wasn't a fan of. I didn't even know the doctor who I gave birth with and it was very impersonal with the doctors I saw during the checkups. For example: one doctor would come in, glance at me, talk to me while staring at the computer screen, then leave. I also didn't get ultrasounds done with them, only heartbeat checks. It just wasn't a journey with them like I thought it would be and should've had. Now speaking of those sweet black and white first photos... 6) Sonograms are beautiful things to have. I got a nice picture frame for my second trimester image and have it on my dresser with a cute doll and my childhood music box. Treasure these little pictures. Take pictures of them to keep and reprint because the ink will fade on the ones the tech gives you, but for the love of God, hide your personal information when you post them. Sonograms say your name and birthdate, along with where you got the picture taken then more information on your child. It irks me to no end when people post this online. Especially on Twitter, which is a public forum. Shit. I didn't even post that on my private Instagram. 7) Next Tip: Call insurance to confirm multiple things, such as: what's covered during pregnancy/hospital stay/postpartum, if the hospital is covered, and if your Pediatrician is in network. Just because the office says "yes we take Aetna/UHC" doesn't mean they're in network. 8) Something that I will be telling everyone I know who is pregnant (which honestly isn't many) is scourge the internet for those pregnancy sites. Most sites and stores offer sample boxes. If you start a registry, they send you one too. Try: Amazon, Babylist, BuyBuyBaby, Walmart, Target... The list goes on. Check What To Expect's website for a list of all the sample box sites. I got about ten boxes that all had great stuff inside: bottles, pacifiers, breast milk pouches, diapers, lotion/shampoo samples, wipes, pads, and a few other smaller things. I honestly haven't used any of it, but plan to soon. 9) A great tip my friend told me was to go on those breast pump sites and check to see if your insurance is covered. My insurance ended up covering up to $300 for a breast pump. Of course I went with a $300 breast pump and paid an extra $30 out of pocket to have a few more parts included in my purchase. It was a great idea and is highly recommended for new moms to take advantage of! (I went with Spectra for a few reasons... It's definitely quieter than the Medela pump (the hospital had this one), and there's a nifty nightlight on the pump handle with two settings. It's super useful and I actually use the nightlight feature every night...) 10) Another great tip is to make that baby registry and share it!! People you don't expect will buy stuff. I used Amazon and got a bunch of perks. After my shower, I bought the rest of my stuff with the discounts Amazon offers. It was 2 bulk orders where both had 15% off entire order. I also get discounts on diapers for a year or, I think, the equivalent of $600 spent. Both perks were extremely helpful. 11) FYI, pregnancy is ten months, not nine. They tell you this in articles on The Bump and What To Expect, but I figured I'd say it anyways. 12) You won't miss your period during this time. I sure don't. 21 years so far is long enough for me. 13) The nausea is real and it sucks. It gets to the point where you don't wanna try for baby number two because you're just so over it after being sick for three months straight. 14) Nausea doesn't mean you're hanging over the toilet bowl throwing up the only food that doesn't make you sick. You can just have that knot in your throat all day that's teasing you about having to throw up. Not fun. 15) Being tired is also real and I have no idea how working moms-to-be do it. I work from home, so taking power naps was easy to do. Most of the time, I couldn't keep my eyes open. And it took about three months to find out why... (see next number) 16) YOU'RE NOT ONLY GROWING A HUMAN INSIDE YOU BUT A FREAKING ORGAN TOO!! That's right folks. The placenta isn't just chilling inside you waiting for the day you get pregnant. It's growing right alongside your little baby, taking your nutrients and energy so it can form and power up your little embryo/fetus. 17) If you're a vivid dreamer like me, the dreams are definitely weird. They tell you this, but for me, my dream self becomes pregnant too. I literally went through my dreamworlds pregnant. 18) Boobs hurting is an understatement. My boobs hurt so badly from the hormones and getting ready for milk that I didn't even wanna touch them when I was showering. 19) Your boobs become hideous. I have small breast - a nearly A has been my measurement in the past, but becoming pregnant, I became a large B - probably going into a small C cup. And not only did the boob itself get bigger and veinier, but the nipples got bigger and darker (confirmed by my friends, doctor, and websites that women experience this change). I honestly don't recognize my boobs anymore. I also don't even know why I wanted bigger boobs growing up. They suck. It's not the backaches (I didn't have any while pregnant, surprisingly), it's the fact that when you sleep on your side, that boob gets crushed and goes numb. 20) Boobs leak as they start forming that first collection of milk aka colostrum. So be aware. Being braless is great but those milk stains aren't cute. And it's not like a normal wet spot either where your nipples are. It's a wet stain with a milky ring around it making it totally unattractive. 21) Your nipples will become numb aka no stimulation. At least for me. My nipples are still numb but I guess it goes without saying why (think about it). 22) On websites, they will tell you that your cervix swells and some women enjoy sex more with their new closed off vagina, but not for me. It hurt to do anything down there. My husband and I had one position available and when the bump got bigger, we became celibate. And boy does the guilt take over... So expect this to happen - you're not alone if it does. 23) Your sex drive may be gone. As I said above, I swelled up down there and it was very painful having sex. With that, the sex drive was killed. My poor hubby suffered through these nine months and continued to suffer after birth because- well I'll get to why suffering continues after birth later. 24) Craving food may not happen for you. I didn't crave anything unusual. The only thing I ate on a daily basis were two English muffins with butter. On weekly basis I had three scrambled eggs on those two English muffins. This occurred maybe 2-3 times a week. Other than that, my "cravings" were the same. I wanted Taco Bell and all the other normal stuff I ate when not pregnant. 25) Paranoia for what you're eating will definitely hit you. Guilt will too. Paranoia because you're checking Google to see if you were allowed to eat that pasta with garlic sauce; and guilt because you're eating crappy junk food and feel like you're depriving your baby of nutrients. But like my friend told me, your body provides the baby what it needs and to stop being paranoid. Also those prenatals pack a punch in vitamins. 26) This isn't really nitty gritty or a tip... it's just something I personally did while pregnant and that was - I stayed away from the foods they tell you to like the high mercury fish and cold cuts, but I ate hot dogs and medium cooked beef. But those meats were cooked 170°+ which they recommend if you wanna eat your normal foods. You can also eat cold cuts but it's highly recommended they're warmed up. These meats contain listeria which is something we can defeat by ourselves but our little babies in the womb have difficulty in doing. Another thing I did in regards to food was I stayed away from foods I was allowed to eat but made me sick when I wasn't pregnant. I just didn't want to deal with the sickness. 27) Sleep however tf you want to sleep and that's exactly what I did. Sleeping on my side is not something I do when not pregnant and certainly didn't happen while pregnant. That is, not until the last month or two. I'll elaborate... I'm a back sleeper. I slept on my back and felt my baby every night tucking into one side of my belly because it was comfortable for her. It wasn't until those last months where the weight of my baby was actually pushing on my spine and yes you can feel it. It's a heavy pain that forces you to side sleep. 28) Those pregnancy pillows are shit. Seriously. They're bulky and annoying. My friend bought me a super nice one that went under the head, down the back, and cupped between the legs and I used it for five minutes. I'll find use for it one of these days - maybe gift it to my friend who is due in April - but right now it's just taking up space downstairs. I tried the slanted pillow for my belly. That lasted a month. What did it for me was that silly "As Seen On TV" pillow. It's that white, guitar pick looking pillow you shove between your knees to keep your legs leveled and your spine straight. That's literally the only pillow that helped me when my belly got huge. My bed worked out in my favor cupping my bump. 29) Being pregnant in the summer isn't that bad. Granted I had AC/Central Air the entire time. But seriously... You know why it also wasn't so bad? I could wear tank tops and dresses. Those were my maternity clothes. I bought maternity leggings for $4 when Kohl's had them on sale. They sucked. The belly piece went over the belly nicely, but the back road my back fat in a very uncomfortable way (and I don't really have back fat). Also, flip flops were my Godsend. When my feet swelled, flip flops were all I wore. Can't do that in the colder months! 30) I basically became a heater. Probably because I gained 4lbs of blood and water and a baby and whatever else was going on in my body. I normally sleep with a fleece blanket and a comforter; even in the summer. I could only use my fleece blanket while pregnant. I was surprisingly warm enough. Which leads me to the next sleeping factor... 31) Sleeping naked was a must. Here's why... Besides being hot all the time, waistbands hurt me and shirts bugged the crap outta my body. 32) Being commando all the time was a must. It was super nice being commando. I didn't have to worry about a period making a grand entrance and the waistband and around my thighs weren't hurting. 33) A nice buying tip: the baby grows super fast. And if your baby is born in the fall or winter, chances are the stores only have summer clothes. So make sure you get those larger outfits for the months to come! 34) Ask for larger clothes for that baby shower. It'll help down the road. 35) Shaving stops when you can no longer see down there and when you can no longer bend comfortably to shave your legs. Of course that didn't stop me before I went to the hospital. I cleaned up the best I could from the belly button down, but still managed to miss that one spot on my damn kneecap! 36) Back to baby... Flutters start being felt really early. Feels like gas but it's the baby. They say 16 weeks but I was feeling the flutters at 12 weeks. After the flutters came the kicks and jabs, and the constant wondering if I had a mini Mike Tyson in my belly. Especially when my belly would convulse like she was using my organs as a punching bag. I came across only one random article that explained what that was... Hiccups. Yes, the baby gets hiccups in utero and if your baby is like mine, the damn things continue outside the womb annoying your little bundle of joy like your own hiccups annoy you. 37) Sometimes you'll panic when you don't feel the baby moving much. Babies in the womb still need sleep I was told. If you get no movement at all within 24 hours no matter what you do then definitely call your doctor. (Your doctor should tell you this during a visit.) 38) I was told this: babies hear you and mostly everything around you outside the womb. This is true. My baby would move from her comfy right side to the left just to get closer to where my husband was talking to her. 39) Third trimester is when everything starts getting real, possibly painful, and definitely the feeling of "I'm over this". They mention this on those websites and they're not joking. 40) Every night I popped two tums just to keep the acid reflux down and the heartburn away. They say major heartburn means you've got a hairy baby and they weren't kidding (more on this later). 41) Waddling actually does occur. At first I felt like I was just doing it because I'm pregnant and subconsciously I'm making fun of pregnant ladies you see in movies. But you really do waddle and wonder if your walk will ever be the same again. (Spoiler: it does.) 42) My feet and legs swelled by my 8th month. They were slowly swelling into the third trimester but it was super noticeable towards the end. But I also ran into a health issue which I'll get to later... The swelling actually hurts. It feels like you're walking on water bags and on top of that, the bottom of your feet feel like you walked all of Disney World nonstop for a week straight. Do yourself a favor and put your feet up and rest. I hardly did this. I just had so much stuff I wanted to get done and I don't like asking for help, so I did everything myself until it got to the point where my husband or mother-in-law were yelling at me. 43) Getting a cold while pregnant sucks. Coughing and blowing your nose is kind of hard because you start to worry that your upsetting your baby. Plus, now you gotta think about medicine. What's safe and should you even bother... Luckily your doctor gives a list of safe medications. 44) Swelling in the feet could be something completely different than just the normal "things to expect in your third trimester" so be aware and prepared for problems that can arise that you weren't expecting. Like what happened to me. Even though those monthly appointments turned weekly get annoying, especially when you gotta drive thirty minutes to your appointments, they're not pointless. In week 38 I had protein in my urine and my blood pressure was high. The protein was not a UTI like what I got when I conceived back in December. That protein was a glimpse into something pretty scary if not caught early during pregnancy. It's called pre-eclampsia. Luckily I was two weeks out from my due date so inducing me wasn't too big of an issue. My baby was fully grown. Only way to get rid of pre-eclampsia is to remove the placenta - hence the early birth of my baby. But some mom's aren't this lucky and lemme tell you something. This was something that was never brought up to me during my doctor visits or on the websites I visited. They don't tell you that pre-eclampsia can happen at any point or that it could come back, and possibly worse, in your next pregnancies until you've been tested positive for it. I was in the hospital for five days after giving birth. My kidneys, heart, and platelets were all affected. Thank God I'm cleared now, but knowing about this ahead of time would've been nice. I could've looked for signs which were massive swelling in legs and feet (luckily I had no headaches or blurry vision). But like I said, I was tested positive late in the game. Some mother's aren't. Part 02 will go into labor and the TMI things that go on when you're admitted into the hospital.

[fairyshuuu]

wild valley pt2 | chanyeol

.summary. Park Chanyeol; sweat rolling down a naked back mixed with motor oil, you; white sugar sticking to your gums at sunset– ice cream flavored. Drugs, booze, money. He’s everything you’re not, the question is – for how long? .word count. 5.6k .mechanic!au | gang!au | car shop!au. .pairing. chanyeol x reader .genre. romance, angst (smut in the future)

.warnings. mature language, sexual mentions, drug use

♫ let me set the mood ♫

teaser.  part 1.  part 2.  part 3.   part 4.  part 5.  part 6.  part 7. (m)  part 8. (m)

For it being such a small room, this is probably the most calm place in the whole garage. The front desk is crowded by Baekhyun’s obnoxious presence, and the main room is always packed with the bunch of them, whether work is being done or not. But this room, hanging almost separate from the main room, feels peaceful. The windows are covered by thin, black curtains to keep out some of the heat, instead relying on the sharp brightness from the UV’s lining the ceiling.

It’s a place he’s comfortable with, having gone here enough times to know it inside out and back again. The loud buzzing of the needle is, if anything but that, the rhythm in which his blood pumps and his bones shake. Literally. Jongdae lets out a little breath as his tongue peeks out of his lips, almost finished filling in the big black area of the drawing. Chanyeol lets his eyes go around the room, glancing over the many navy filing cabinets filled with designs and drawings. The door connecting it to the garage is glass, but has blinds to cover it as well.

You can never be too careful, Chanyeol guesses. After all, having tattoos isn’t illegal, but giving them is, and though police are corrupted beyond belief, Jongdae probably doesn’t feel like doing time. Better safe than sorry. The blond moves the tattoo gun with an ease that only comes from many years of practice, on himself and on Chanyeol probably. Some of the smaller tattoos on Yeol’s lower arms are slightly faded or have spread out, proof of the practice his friend has put in to get where he is.

Though he could cover them up, the tattoos have their own memories, and so he chooses to keep them. Chanyeol pulls in a deep breath as he looks over at his bicep, able to imagine the finished piece already. At his little hiss, Jongdae looks over to check if he’s doing good, to which Chanyeol nods out of habit. “Can we take a little break, I want a smoke,” he sighs though, looking at the shine of the white lights on the polished concrete. Jongdae pulls the needle from his skin to wipe some of the blood and excess ink away, before grinning down at his friend.

“I’m ‘this’ close to finishing it, Yeol.” He holds his two index fingers about a hair apart, and shakes his head. “You really can’t sit out the rest? You have a problem.” As if he doesn’t know that himself. Chanyeol rolls his eyes and pushes himself up, before freezing mid-way.

“Ah shit, you’ll have to wrap it up then, right?” Jongdae nods with a knowing grin, the wrapping up process is annoying to say the least. With a groan, Chanyeol drops back down on the chair, running a hand through his white hair in annoyance. “Fine, finish it then. But hurry, I need to take a leak.”

Jongdae glares at him, before pushing his head back down. “I’m not gonna hurry anything, unless you want to mess it all up.” Jongdae brushes his hair out of his face, and turns the machine back on, grabbing a steady hold on his arm. “Now, quit being annoying and stop flexing.” Chanyeol grins, before relaxing into the seat, and looking back at the ceiling. A soft ring announces the new presence before he even opens the door. Chanyeol doesn’t flinch when the needle is pushed back in his skin.

The door is shoved open, revealing the older, dark haired man. “You sure took your time,” Jongdae sighs, but gratefully turning over his shoulder to smile at Junmyeon. The elder has a tray of coffees, and hands them to the others with a little nod. “Thank you.”

Chanyeol grabs onto the cup with his free hand, and immediately takes a big gulp. “If I’m not allowed to feed my one addiction, I’ll feed the other.” The guys smile at him, though Junmyeon looks at him with a little disproving frown. The brunet plops down in the chair of Jongdae’s desk, brushing some of the papers to the side. He takes off his jacket and lays it over the back of the chair, before leaning closer to inspect Yeol’s arm. Said man sighs deeply. “I’ve got something to mention though, Suho.”

“What’s up?” he asks, frown now settling deeper between his brows. Maybe it’s the fact that Yeol speaks so little, that makes both of his friends worried right away. Whatever is important enough to tell, must be important enough to worry about.

“I, uh-” Chanyeol pulls in some air at a particularly painful part, before looking between the two others, “I found someone trying to break in yesterday night. When I came back from the club, while you guys stayed. I came here so I could work some more, right?” Both nod, Jongdae finishing the last few black lines covering his arm. “I didn’t recognize him, so it’s probably nothing to worry about. I scared him away, but the lock to the door needs to be changed.”

Junmyeon bites his bottom lip in thought, before giving a curt nod. “I’ll check for any new gang mentions just in case, but it doesn’t sound too dangerous.” He places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go find Yixing, he’ll know if anything is up. Find me when you’re done here, yeah?” With Chanyeol’s nod as agreement, Junmyeon makes his way to the door, setting off the bell again. “Byun, where’s Lay at?”

Jongdae sighs deeply, and leans back. He wipes the rag over his work again, and smiles. “I think— you’re done, man. Let’s go see it in the mirror, yeah?” Jongdae grabs his hand to pull him up, and wipes his stained hands on his pants, before giving the taller a little poke. “Hey, Yeol?”

“Hm?” Chanyeol looks over to the blond, and raises an eyebrow. Jongdae is probably one of the people least concerned about the gang wars and the politics, but even he has a sharp frown lining his brow.

“You sure it’s nothing? It might not seem like much, but that’s always how it starts. I can’t help but think of Dongkyu whenever new groups of people arrive in town.”

“Don’t tell Junmyeon that,” Chanyeol says, voice lowering slightly.

Jongdae nods. “Why do you think I waited until he left? I know I shouldn’t worry, but— Just rather have you be careful, is all. I’m not planning on losing anyone else.” Chanyeol doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to for Jongdae to understand his response. Chanyeol too- has lost enough people he cared about. “Let’s go look at your newest decoration now, come on,” Jongdae brightens, shoving him towards the full-body mirror next to the desk. “If you like it we can wrap it up. And then you’ll have to come back probably in a few days to check for any patchy parts.”

Chanyeol grins at his excitement, and checks the new tattoo in the mirror, right in the center of his bicep. The skin is still red from the intrusion, but soon it’ll heal and leave another memory on his skin. This one is a deer skull, Jongdae’s design and it fits right in with his others. He gives his friend a small smile, and squeezes his shoulder. “Thanks, Chen. It looks great.”

“I’m glad.”

You pull your hair out of it’s messy bun, and breathe out deeply, trying to settle your heartbeat. Your clammy hands are wiped on your pants, before push them to your sides. You’re not the most sporty person by far, but going on a run always makes you feel better. Definitely now you’ve been eating all this ice cream. You sigh and make your way to the door, ignoring the cigarette ends on the sidewalk. It really seems that everyone in this city except you and your sister smoke.

When you ring the bell, there’s no answer. You look around the street with a frown. Your sister’s car is nowhere to be seen, but that isn’t out of the ordinary. There’s barely any space to park, so she chooses to leave it around the corner most times. You huff, before walking over to the window. Your big sister always leaves the key on the top of the windowsill, a place just obvious enough for people not to try it out. The white paint of the windows are chipped, showing the wood under it in multiple places. They’re also impossibly high, and you’re stuck wondering how Yuna ever got it up there in the first place.

No matter how much you reach, you can’t get up there. You glare at the windowsill, before taking a step back. Fine, then you’ll have to resort to other measures. You bend down and kick your shoe off, before tossing it at the windowsill. It makes a loud thump when it hits, but still the stupid key doesn’t fall down. This is why you should always have a key on you. You hop over and pick up the shoe again, now using it to try and reach higher.

“Need help?” a soft voice sounds. You’re so surprised that you physically jump, turning on your heel. The man that stands on the sidewalk is tall, and at least a good five inches taller than you. He has soft features, you first notice, bright, round eyes and a cute button nose. His lips are prettily curled in a natural smile. His dark, orange hair looks surprisingly amazing on him, and is messed casually forward to hide most of his brows. You can’t help but notice the piercing in his nose, and the multiples littering his ears as they catch the sunlight.

He’s wearing a black, leather jacket with a badge on the right side, blue and red, and ripped dark jeans that fit tightly around his thighs. His shoes are worn to the point where you can’t recognize what brand they would be, but the black combat boots still look stylish on him. He’s really handsome, and so you feel immediately embarrassed being caught looking like this, sweaty and gross. He doesn’t seem to care too much though. His warm eyes glint when you don’t respond right away, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I was just- uhm—” you panic, putting your shoe back down. What if he thinks you’re trying to do something illegal? Because you’re not, you’re just an idiot.

“Don’t worry,” he smiles, stepping into the dry grass and closer to you, “I know Yuna hides her key there. Let me help.” Before you can move out of the way, he’s reaching up over you for the key. This means your face is level with his chest, only covered in a dark gray shirt. You notice he smells impossibly good, like something fruit, sweet and sugary. He smiles wider when he hands you the key, before taking a few steps out of your space. When you kinda just stare at him for a moment, he flushes. “Oh, I’m— I’m a friend of Yuna’s roommate, I’ve been here quite a lot. I’m Baron.”

He hold his hand out to you, so you slowly take it, shaking just briefly. Though you want to be sceptical about this stranger, he looks genuine. “I’m Y/N, Yuna’s little sister. I moved in a couple of days ago.” He nods in understanding, before you turn to the door. “Uhm- come in.” When you unlock the door, you slip in quickly, kicking off your shoes and looking around the street. Baron follows behind politely. “Is that your car?” you point out, gesturing at the dark blue car parked across the street. You don’t know much about cars, but it’s a pretty one, and looks like it’s been taken great care of.

“Yes, it’s my baby, that one.” He smiles, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. For a second you just stand in silence, before Baron speaks up. “Oh, I came to get some of the stuff Maria left behind. She was gonna come get it herself but she had to work today. You don’t have an idea where it is, by any chance?” As you close the door, you push out your lips and shake your head.

“I don’t know, sorry. Yuna cleared everything out before I came, so I don’t know where she would have put everything. But I’m sure she didn’t just toss it out!” You squeeze past him to walk over to the door at the end of the hall and open it. “Take a seat, you can wait here for her. I don’t know where she ran off to so quickly, but I think she’ll be home soon enough.”

You open the curtains to let some of the light in, and take a deep breath. Inside, the temperature is just great. The coldness sticks to your skin, a grateful change from the suffocating warmth outside. “You’ve been here for a while, right? Is it always this hot?”

Baron laughs as he takes a seat in the sofa, and looks over at you. “Pretty much. A lot of my friends are new in town too, they’re struggling with the heat. It’s pretty much the only thing they can talk about, if I’m being honest. That it’s too warm to do anything during the day.” He gestures his face at you though. “But if you can go for a run in this weather, you must be pretty heat resistant.”

“I just forced myself to,” you giggle, “because if I keep eating ice cream like I’ve been doing, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up becoming one myself.” As he laughs, you hear the familiar sound of a car making it’s way down the street, and you press your face to the glass. Yuna’s old white car passes the window, slowing down. “Ah, there she is. I’m gonna go take a cold shower, upstairs.” You turn to him again, and give him a little wave. “It was nice meeting you, Baron.”

The young man blinks his wide eyes a few times, before nodding. “Yeah, it was nice meeting you too. Maybe I’ll see you again?”

“If you come buy some ice cream of mine, sure,” you wink, before slipping through the door to open it for your sister.

It’s late, though he’s lost track of how late exactly. All he knows is that good people are asleep right now, and he’s not. Chanyeol blows out all the smoke in his lungs, and looks around his living room. There’s too much people gathered here, but for once he doesn’t mind. Tonight feels like a night he’ll call his, having modded the car Jongin won with, and though the King of the streets drives the best, it’s the teamwork that did it. Well, that’s what he thinks, at least. Junmyeon sits next to him, tossing back the amber liquid in his glass like it’s water.

Chanyeol hasn’t drank much yet, not tonight. Tonight, he hungers for something stronger. He aches for something to make his world float, and this sends him to sit up from the couch to make his way through the people. The good thing about partying in your own house, is that no one can tell you what to do, and what not to. He pulls the end of his smoke out of his lips to put it out on the stone counters as he passes them, entering into the room connected to his living room. 

The kitchen has significantly less people, but has a clearer purpose. The pillows tossed in the corner are occupied by people making out, some sprawled out over the cold tiles without a care. His coffee table has been dragged over to the middle of the room, and is surrounded by people sitting on the floor. White powder is spread on the table, as someone drags clear lines to separate it. Some people are pouring new drinks, way too much vodka being poured into the glasses, not that anyone would care.

He makes his way over to the corner to search for his friend, as music blares through his speakers. But sadly, he can see only a tuft of Baekhyun’s brown hair, where he sits with a body on top of his and their faces connected. If he would try to get in there now, Byun would definitely connect his fist with Chanyeol’s nose. Fuck. He doesn’t feel like drinking so much that his head feels like it’s being squashed by gravity in the morning. He looks over at the small table, watching as a girl parts the clean lines. As he stares, the girl looks up to catch his eyes, and cocks her head to ask him over.

But Chanyeol shakes his head and pushes past some people to go for the drinks instead. Coke is only for very special days, and this isn’t one. Before he can make it there, a strong hand wraps around his shoulder and pulls him back. Jongin. His purple hair is brushed sleek back, eyes free but equally as dark. He smiles at the taller, and then points through the people at what Chanyeol can only assume is where Baekhyun is making out. “I saw you try to find him, but he’s a little preoccupied right now. I thought business came before sex, but not for him, it seems.”

“I don’t blame him. It’s hard to shake habits,” Chanyeol nods, low voice barely reaching over the music. “I don’t want to disturb him when he’s like that. I’ll just get whined at, or worse.” Jongin nods and laughs, lifting his shoulders.

When Chanyeol turns to go find his spot in the couch again, Jongin pulls him back though. “Oh, Yeol. I have—” he reaches in his inner jacket pocket, and pulls something out. “I got them from Byun earlier tonight, and was gonna do them with Kyungsoo. But he’s gone off wherever the the fuck, so if you want.” The round pills in his hand are half red, half blue, small enough to loose if you’re not careful. Chanyeol takes a breath, before taking one of them and knocking his fist with the younger’s.

“Cheers. To another victory, ey.” He pops the pill in his mouth to feel in slowly dissolve, watching as Jongin does the same. “I’m gonna go join the mess in the main room, you coming?” Jongin opens and closes his eyes a few times, before nodding. As they push back through the people, Chanyeol takes off his jacket. It’s already too warm and he’ll surely get even more sweaty in half an hour. He tosses the jacket on the dining table, and makes his way over to the couch to crash down next to Chen and Suho.

Jongdae looks over at him with slightly hazy eyes when he does, lifting a brow. “You don’t look very drunk for the host of the party. You need some help there? If you mix whiskey and a shot of vodka—”

“I’m good, Dae. Don’t worry about me.” He holds his tongue out then, showing the last of the dissolving pill on his tongue. Jongdae’s eyes widen a little, most likely since Chanyeol doesn’t do this a lot. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it any less than his friends do. He lets his head fall back into the couch, and takes a deep breath. The air smells like alcohol, like smoke and weed and strangely— like memories. Maybe this is why he chooses not to throw parties in his own house anymore. When Jongdae’s hand comes around his wrist in concern, Chanyeol just smirks slightly. “What’s up? You want a kiss?”

Jongdae rolls his eyes before breaking out laughing. “Every time I’m genuinely concerned about you, you have to do something to make yourself seem like even more of an asshole, huh?” Chanyeol just smiles, and looks across the crowd of people gathered in front of his eyes. Bodies move together, swaying limply to the beat like they can’t control their limbs anymore. They most likely can’t, since he knows that no one here is sober. As he watches, tracks of magenta seem to follow the movements, his eyes heavy and light at the same time. He can vaguely make out Jongin’s face in the mix, grinding against some girl with fiery red hair.

When he looks over to his side, Jongdae’s gone. His head swirls, and when he looks up again it’s to realize that he has no idea how much time has passed since taking the pill. It could be a few seconds or an hour if him laying here, he has no idea. His body is hot, clothes clinging tightly to him. The alcohol he had earlier feels burning in his stomach, the good kind of heat. And then someone is stepping in front of his view, and before he can get annoyed she puts his hands on her hips.

Chanyeol looks up from under his lashes, and takes the girl in. It’s the girl who was pulling lines on the coffee table earlier, her hair how tied up and her eyes dark, pupils wide. She leans forward to put her hand on his shoulder as Chanyeol rights himself a bit, hovering her lips over his ear. “We don’t know each other yet.” She pulls back to brush some of his hair out of his face, and then leans in again. Her lips burn against the cold of his piercings along the shell of his ear. “I’m Hana.”

Chanyeol slides his hands down her hips to pull her on top of him on the couch, body to body on fire. “That’s easily fixed then, Hana. I’m Yeol.” The girl tilts her head back a little to smile at him with red lips and bleached hair, her eyes black. She mouths something he can’t make out, before their lips meet in a rough pull of desire. His fingers tangle in her hair, her boobs pressed against his chest and her thighs slotted over his easily.

“Take me home, Yeol,” she whispers in his ear, tugging on the soft hair at his neck. Chanyeol smiles when her lips come back over his, her moan going lost in the sea of music and people. He breathes out deeply, before standing up and holding her body up in his arms. Hana squeaks and wraps her arms around his neck.

“We won’t have to go very far, baby.” He pushes through some people he can’t really make out, and licks a strip up from her chest to her neck. At her moan, Chanyeol smiles against her skin. “Bet you’ll look so pretty spread out on my bed.”

Today has been a slow day. It’s Saturday, which you would think would bring tons of customers, but nope. Yuna warned you that everyone in this burning city goes out on fridays, or, well— that they go out all the time but most on fridays. So everyone is probably in bed with a big, fat hangover. You’d call it unfortunate, but it doesn’t change much. You peek out of the shop to look both sides of the street, but everything is empty. It’s coming up on lunch time soon, so a bit of peace is appreciated.

It’s not that you don’t want to go out or anything, but you still don’t have friends to go with. You’d feel horrible making your sister go with you, Yuna’s really not a party animal. She could be, if she wanted to, but your sister has grown out of the party fase when she was forced to move out by your parents and figure out a way to make money all on her own. You sigh, and wave some cool air in your face with a paper flyer.

Since Yuna has left you to take over the shop, she’s been looking at opening another shop, and you couldn’t be more proud. You’re really lucky having her. You turn when the machine beeps, indicating that your caramel and clove ice cream is ready. That’s probably the most fun part of working here. You get to experiment with flavours and create your own kinds. As you ungracefully plonk the heavy bowl beside the others and slot it into the free hole, a person makes their way up the street.

White hair, dark clothes— and immediately a smile makes it’s way up to your lips. The stranger from before is wearing a black t-shirt today, his overalls only half on and tied around his waist. This way you get a view of the tens of tattoos adorning his arms, too far to make out in detail but impressive to say the least. He has his signature frown on his face, looking appropriately pissed after what you guess must be a hangover.

You’d be pissed too if you had to work with the pounding between your ears. The white haired man makes his way across the street much like you remember him doing, feet dragging and cigarette between his fingers. As soon as he gets close enough, you put your paper flyer down and brush some of the strands of hair behind your ear. “Hey, you. I knew I’d see you again some day.”

He looks up from the road when you talk, and stops in his tracks. He’s still standing in the street, but doesn’t seem to care much. He just lifts an eyebrow at you, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You work on Saturdays too? Really?” Though he looks standoffish, you swear that you can see some kind of intrigue sparkle in his eyes, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“I don’t know why you say it like that, when I’m clearly not the only one.” When you cock your head at his outfit, he shakes his head and walks off the street onto the sidewalk, only a few feet away from you now. You can see the dark circles under his eyes, dark purple against his soft skin. You don’t know this man, so you shouldn’t care, but some worry settles in your stomach while you look. “Maybe you should take a day off, though, get some sleep? I’m not trying to tell you what to do but you look tired. And if I know anything, it’s that you always work better after a nap!”

The man licks both of his fingers and pressed them to the end of his smoke, putting it out that way, before he tosses it further up the sidewalk. Rude. Though he doesn’t say anything, you can see that your words work through into his mind, eyes moving from the floor to you. Eventually he sighs, and shakes his head at you, his low voice sinking even lower. “I don’t need sleep. And I’d suggest you don’t give random people on the street advice, since not everyone will appreciate your opinions as much as I do.”

As he tilts his head back a little to look at the clouds passing by, you get the opportunity to see the bruises lining both sides of his neck. These, though similar in color, are clearly not from tiredness, and suddenly you realize that you might have held him on a completely wrong level. When he looks back down, he raises his both eyebrows at your silence, before reaching into his pocket. Maybe this isn’t a person you’d make friends with, you suddenly think, looking at him more objectively now. Boys like him are the boys parents tell their daughters to stay away from, but you’ve never been one for judging others by their appearance. 

As he takes out the red and white box, you notice how dirty his hands are, covered in a black, grimy oil that leaves black marks on everything he touches. The man doesn’t care, and so that probably means this isn’t a special occurrence to him. “How come you always walk here?” you decide to ask, not willing to let the conversation die down just yet, “Don’t you have a car?” This makes him snort, the sound deep and too short to fully be enjoyed, but enough to make your skin glow.

“I walk here because it’s in walking distance, and because it’s the only moment of my day where I am not surrounded by cars.” He has a small smile on his lips as he looks up at you, but as soon as it came his face smooths back to that same frown you’re getting used to. “What’s it to you?”

Shamelessly, you roll your head to the side and tap a little beat into the glass of the display, smiling. “The more I know about you, the closer I get to your heart.”

“Don’t have one,” he sighs, plopping his unlit cigarette between his lips and putting the box back in his pocket.

“I don’t believe that,” you say, just looking at him for a second. When he looks back, you giggle. He looks about ready to escape this conversation, so you pout slightly. “Knowing you won’t give me your name, I’ll go back to my first method, which is selling you something cold instead. I made new sugar & spice flavor, if you wanna try it—” you lean over the bar, ignoring the feeling of the cold metal digging into your belly.

He sighs and looks over his shoulder once, removing the black stains on his large hands with the flimsy piece of cloth he pulls out of his back pocket. The frown on his face is deep again, like he’s constantly tired of you, and maybe he is. But you decide not to care too much, since he could have walked away by now. He’s still standing here, isn’t he? “I already told you I don’t like ice cream.”

“You also told me you don’t want to talk, but here we are.” At your playful grin, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, lips flattening into a line. Once his fingers are decently clean, he gets rid of the rag and strikes his smoke with his lighter. “Oh, come on! It’s hot and you look tired, and everyone likes ice cream! You can’t just ignore me for the rest of the time I’m here.” This makes him raise one eyebrow, and pull open the door to the neighboring shop.

“Watch me,” he says, and with those deep spoken words he walks into the run-down diner, not looking back. You sigh deeply as you watch his figure disappear into the darkness of the hall, but can’t help the wide smile that comes to your lips.

As your sister chops the bell peppers, you peel the carrots, watching her over your shoulder. She looks tired, hair messily pulled in a ponytail that has chucks spilling out carelessly. Seems the heat is making everyone tired. Or maybe, not everyone has that childlike enthusiasm anymore. Most people have had it harder than you have after all. You sigh softly, before pouting. “Hey, Yun?”

“Yes, Dew,” she calls, voice smiley despite her slight frown as she puts the vegetables in a bowl. You smile a little at your childhood nickname, honeydew. It was the nickname your aunt used to call you after your favorite ice cream flavor, and somehow it stuck.

“You know a lot of the people here, right?”

Your sister hums slightly, and walks across the kitchen to grab a spatula. “Well, I wouldn’t say a lot. I know a decent amount of people, yes. Why?”

“There’s this guy that I keep seeing around. He has white hair and a bunch of tattoos, and is very handsome. And I don’t know his name but—”

Yuna freezes mid-motion at your words, before she turns. Her eyes look wide, mouth opening slightly. “Is he really tall? Kind of broody, doesn’t smile a lot?” You nod, surprised at her ability to describe him so accurately. “That’s Park Chanyeol. He’s—” she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, and frowns, “for lack of a better word, he’s trouble. Him and his friends sort of run this city, when lights go out. I���ve never had to deal with them personally, but I know that they run that car repair shop down in the city. Exo Customs.”

“Park Chanyeol,” you repeat, looking at the floor with a little frown.

“Oh, no.” Yuna points her finger at you, and shakes her head as she wipes her hands. “No, you don't. I know that look you have, it never brings anything good. You can make friends with anyone else in this town, but not the Exo guys. They— I know you see the good in everyone, but they’re not to be messed with.” She looks intently into your eyes, checking for any kind of disagreement, but she won’t find any.

You pout. “You say that as if they’d want to make friends with me anyway. This Chanyeol guy always glares at me whenever I see him.” When you turn away from her, Yuna sighs deeply, and comes over to give you a hug.

“I’ll take you to meet some of my friends tomorrow, okay? I know you’re a social, little butterfly, and all this isolation must be draining you.” When she gives you a little wink, you smile at her gratefully. She knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. “You’ll be able to make all the friends you could ever want, I mean that. Just no Exo, ‘kay?”

“No Exo,” you repeat, smiling down at the cutting board in front of you.

Oof. I hope you liked this chapter!! Having a slow start, it’s nice. For once you’re not just dropped into the shit! But if you know me, you know it won’t stay this easy. So strap in or something, because hopefully we’ll get dramatic soon. Thank you for reading, my little muffins!

If you want to be (un)tagged for this series, you can send me a message!  @ninibears-erigom @suhoerections @kimjongdaely @kyungseokie @kpop---scenarios @yeoldontknow @baekwell--tart @skjdln @strongpowerhope @i-dont-wanna-kokostop @brie02 @baby-hands-x-x-blr @baek-byunies  @shxrl4747 @lucymheng @byunfirstlady @chanyeolol @my-spot-at-the-sun

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 7 - Queasy

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word count: 11,285

Trigger warning: this chapter contains sexual content, violence, gore, and mentions of torture. 

A/N: I’m so sorry for the wait, guys! This is my longest chapter yet, and I’ve really put my all into it. Thank you for all the kind words of encouragement! It really helped me get through my bad days. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

One would assume that the docks would smell like the sea.

Wrong.

It smelt like shit. Literally.

A lot of Gotham’s sewage ended up in the sea , and trash that wasn’t from the sewage ended up there as well. Gothamites liked to pollute, and it made the docks smell.

But if you held your breath and closed your eyes, it still sounded like the sea.

The crashing waves, the sound of the breeze ruffling your hair, the rapid gunfire-

Oh right.

You were in the middle of crashing Red Hood’s illegal shipment party.

Dodging a rain of bullets, you hopped across some shipment crates towards a group of hired guns to incapacitate them with a flying kick. You hit the large muscly man- who was wearing sunglasses at night, for some reason- flat in the chest with one leg. With your other, you kicked aside the weapon in his hand, which flew straight into his partner’s head, making him stumble backwards.

Taking the two of them down, and looking back at the other eight unconscious bodies behind you that you had dealt with in under two minutes, you took a deep breath and smiled to yourself for you excellent work, before running off to where Bruce was.

Bruce had went on ahead to confirm the shipment and catch Red Hood, well, red handed, while you covered his back and deal with security.

You ran past the crates and metal containers that created a maze.

“Robin,” you heard Batman’s breathless voice in your ear, “Shipment is confirmed, call GCPD.”

“Okay, I’m coming your way,” you replied.

You dialled GCPD on your phone.

“Suspected terrorist attack at Dixon Docks.”

You hung up. Terrorist attacks always made the police rush more.

Finally, you heard the sound of gunshots get louder and you turned a corner to see Batman’s looming dark figure in a direct fight with Red Hood.

“Where’s Robin, B? Got bored of her already? Throw her away like the two before her?” Red Hood jabbed, dodging a punch from Batman.

All Batman did was growl and never stopped attacking.

“When are you going to tell her that she’s disposable? It’s not good to keep stringing women along, you know?” he poked, “Especially those you call your children.”

Batman succeeded in tripping him, making Red Hood stumble backwards for just a second. A shout distracted you from the fight, making your head snap in the direction of Moehler barking at his workers to hurry with loading wooden crates onto the back of a truck a few feet away.

You ran past Batman and Red Hood and towards the two men who were loading the last crate.

“Ah, there she is!” you heard Red Hood chuckle.

You were almost there, you needed to stop them before they could drive off with the weapons. Suddenly, you felt something grip your ankle, making you trip forward.

It was as if you were falling in slow motion, the ground slowly approaching your face. The next millisecond you heard a loud bang, and felt a sharp pain at your right earlobe.

As you broke your fall as to not hit your face, you realized that the thing around your ankle was Red Hood’s grappling hook, wound tightly to stop you from approaching your goal.

Struggling to get up, you felt a wave of disappointment crash onto you when you heard the sound of the truck’s engine start, and the tyres screech as it hurried to drive away. Before it could escape your view, you threw a tracking device you had attached to the armor of your uniform at the truck, which you saw suddenly bounce away as Red Hood shot it out of reach of the truck from behind you.

He ran from Batman’s attacks and towards the port, jumping onto a speedboat, and the two of you silently watched as he gave you the middle finger, while Moehler drove the speedboat away.

You untangled yourself from the wire around your leg and stood up, watching his figure get smaller and smaller into the darkness. That fucker actually gave you the middle finger. You could scoff at how juvenile it was if it weren’t for the fact that you were blaming yourself for letting the truck get away.

“You’re bleeding,” Batman’s gravelly voice made you jump.

You touched your right ear, and winced. You were sure a bullet had grazed it when Red Hood tripped you earlier.

“Huh,” you stared at the blood on your fingers, “I didn’t even notice.”

“You called Gordon?”

“Anonymous tip to GCPD,” you informed.

“Terrorist attack?”

“How did you know?” you smirked.

“You’re predictable.”

“Ouch,” you faked, “Someone’s in a bad mood.”

You glanced at him, earning yourself a scowl.

“It was like he knew my moves,” Batman suddenly expressed, “Like he’s familiar with me.”

“Sounded like he’s also familiar with my predecessors too,” you added.

Batman stayed silent.

“On top of the fact that he’s very familiar with my uniform,” you continued, “He seemed to know the moment I reached for my shoulder that I was going to throw a tracker at the truck and shot it out of the way. Not to mention that signal button a while back too.”

More silence.

“And the fact that he knows we’re your children,” you pointed out, “Which means that you have to assume he knows all our identities.”

A clenched jaw.

“Do you know who he is?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Nothing.

“I trust you to know which information you tell me- or don’t tell me- is beneficial to me or harmful,” you lectured him in frustration, “Which means I’m not going to go digging around. So you better tell me when you figure things out. Trust goes both ways, Batman.”

“I’ll deal with the police.”

Sure enough, you heard the sirens slowly approaching. You glanced again at the dark sea, illuminated poorly by the distant city lights and the hidden moon, wondering who was under the red helmet, and what he meant by ‘disposable’.

***

Jason fired one loud bullet into the ground, breaking the chaotic commotion that came with unloading the crates in one of Moehler’s warehouse turned into base operations. He watched down at them from a raised platform, the two dozen or so hired by Moehler stopped what they were doing and turned to him, along with Moehler and some of his associates- mainly relatives.

“How many did we manage to get?” Jason asked.

“All of them, Red Hood,” a tall brute with distasteful face tattoos answered smugly.

“But just barely,” Jason snapped.

Jason felt the mood subtly shift. They knew why he was mad, and now, he could smell their fear.

“Can anyone tell me how Batman knew?” he calmly asked.

Everyone was avoiding eye contact with him, looking either at each other or their own feet.

“When I find out you know how this information got leaked, and trust me, I will find out, I will come after you and your family,” he simply shrugged, “So someone better step up and confess. Right. Now.”

Jason waited for 3 seconds, and then-

“It was Dave,” a bald brute stepped closer to him, the head of Moehler’s security detail, “We heard that he got arrested last week. It must have been him.”

“One of your own got arrested, and knowing that our meeting could have been compromised, you decided to keep quiet?” Jason articulated.

The man gulped, “We- we didn’t know for sure.”

“Didn’t know for sure?” Jason started chuckling softly, before pointing his gun at the man, “Tell me why I shouldn’t gun you down for your incompetence. Or are you still unsure?”

“His wife called and told me she hadn’t heard from him in three days,” his eyes now wide and pleading, “Only yesterday we confirmed that he had been arrested, but that’s about it. Our inside man said that the arrest report said he was arrested for public urination. We didn’t think much of it then.”

Jason thought for a split second, deciding whether or not to kill him.

No, it wasn’t a strategic move. The story sounded genuine, and if he killed too many people without actual cause, everyone would start to hate him and could want to start a coup. He needed to be specific about his rules.

He put down his gun and started chuckling, earning a sigh of relief from the man before him. He gripped the mans shoulder and squeezed hard- showing both friendliness and threat.

“Fine, we all make mistakes, right?” Jason laughed.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, “Sorry, boss.”

“Just be sure not to overlook things like this again,” Jason warned and gave him a hard pat on the back, “Now, I have another issue to address.”

The relief of the room just now was turned into tension again.

“Who was the brave man who shot at Robin to stop her from getting to the trucks?” Jason asked, “I have a reward for him! A token of courage, if you will.”

“It was me, boss,” the same man with the inked face answered proudly.

“Oh, it was you, huh?” Jason grit, “What’s your name again?”

“Snake, sir.”

“Snake?” he burst out laughing, “Okay, okay. What are you waiting for, Snake? Get up here!”

Snake strutted to Jason’s side, smirking all the way. Jason put an arm over his shoulder.

He saw that some of the others were already shaking their heads at their colleague’s ignorance.

“So Snake,” he started, “You were really brave tonight. You know why?”

“Because I tried to stop Robin?” he answered.

“Yes,” Jason agreed, “In fact, you shot at her, am I right?”

“Yeah, I did,” he grinned.

“Even when I specifically ordered everyone not to?” Jason asked softly.

Snake tensed.

“If I remember correctly,” Jason announced to his audience, “I said that anyone who tries to kill or harm Robin without my orders will be severely punished, didn’t I?”

Silence.

“DIDN’T I?!” he bellowed.

A mumble of “Yes’s” and “Yeah’s” were heard.

“Thank you,” he said sarcastically, “Now, my fellow associates, what should I do with our buddy Snake here?”

No one dared answer him.

It didn’t matter. Jason already knew what he had to do.

“Oh, right,” he pretended to remember, “I was going to give you a token of my appreciation.”

BANG. BANG.

A loud wail came from Snake. He fell to the ground and started crying and screaming. Jason could hardly blame him. He did just shoot both his kneecaps.

“What do you say to daddy, Snake?” Jason stepped on one of his knees, “Daddy gave you a gift, didn’t he?”

“F-FUCK YOU!”

Jason shot at his elbow, making him scream even louder. “Manners!”

“T-thank y-you,” Snake gasped in between sobs.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Thank y-”

BANG.

Jason gave him a gift right between his eyes.

Whenever Jason killed, he didn’t feel better or worse. Killing was just part of the job, just merely strategic for him.

But killing the guy who almost killed you if it wasn’t for the fact that he pulled you down and made you trip using the grappling hook he had?

He felt better.

He took a deep breath.

“Whoever defies my direct order again, will get worse than this fucker!” he yelled, “No one touches Robin but me. Even if it means you get taken down, you don’t. Shoot. At. Her. GOT IT?!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Now someone clean this up,” he nudged the body with his foot, “Before the shit comes out.”

The part he hated most about killing and disposing of bodies was when the muscles relax and he has to deal with shit and urine that comes out. Not everyone will shit and urinate themselves when they die- it depends on whether they were holding it in to begin with- but when it doeshappen, it’s disgusting.

And Snake looks like he’s just full of shit. Whatever. He’s glad he has people to do the dirty job for him now.

“Moehler,” he growled, “I need to speak to you.”

Jason hopped off the platform and walked straight to the straw haired American-German man.

“Where are we with Black Mask?” he asked.

Roman Sionis. He was one of the defiant ones who refused to work together with Red Hood. Black Mask used to own all these gangs; Moehler’s, Ibenescus’- and Jason had snatched them from underneath his nose.

He wasn’t happy about it.

“Still putting out hits on you,” he gruffly stated, “And also taking down my men.”

“Why haven’t you dealt with him yet?” Jason hissed through the voice scramble of his helmet.

“He’s got a whole armory, boss,” Moehler complained, “And many men who are still loyal to him.”

“They’re not loyal, they’re afraid,” Jason corrected, “I’ll deal with him.”

“Let me know if you need help,” Moehler added.

Jason had already picked out what he wanted beforehand, as per agreement with Moehler, and all he has to do is bring it back with him to his safehouse. The rest of the weapons were to be sold to various gangs or anyone who was interested, and he would take 40 percent profits, as per agreement with Moehler.

Besides Batman’s interference that night, everything was going smoothly. Yet, he was stressed.

He needed to blow off steam.

Ah, right. It was time to enter phase 2 of his plan.

***

You fell on the comfort of your bed, and looked at the time. It was nearly three in the morning. You stretched like a cat, relieving your body from the aches and pains. You had already showered and refreshed yourself, along with slapping a bandaid on your grazed ear. It wasn’t too deep.

You checked your phone, and saw that Sexy Hunk From Library had left you a text about half an hour ago.

Sexy Hunk From Library: You up?

You grinned.

You: Yes! Hi. Sexy Hunk From Library: Hello. I thought you were already asleep. You: Nope. Just on Netflix. As usual. Sexy Hunk From Library: Let’s get on video.

Your heart raced at his directness. Before this he would ask you politely, or played coy with you. But now he wasn’t asking you if you wanted to get on video, he told you to.

And you liked it.

You took the initiative and dialled him first.

“Hey,” you heard his warm, yet tired voice first before you got the video feed and saw him lying on his bed.

Shirtless.

You gulped.

“Hey, you,” you smiled. You were sitting upright, your knees brought to your chest as you leaned against your propped up pillows.

“You hurt yourself again?” you saw him frown. His room was dark, and his face illuminated by the light from his phone.

“Oh, this?” you automatically touched your ear pinna where the bandaid was, “Yeah, I made an impulsive and stupid decision to pierce my cartilage at a really dodgy looking shop, now that I think about it. It got infected.”

For some reason, Jason thought it was funny, because he burst into a laughing fit.

“I-I’m sorry,” he choked, “Stupid decision indeed.”

“Hey!” you giggled, “Like you’ve never made a stupid decision in your entire life.”

“You caught me,” he conceded.

“Well, what was it? What’s the most stupid thing you have done in your entire life?” you demanded.

“Hmm,” you saw him bite his lower lip as he thought about it. You licked yours. “Well, I’ve done many stupid things. One of them is not going to that library sooner. I could have gotten to know you way beforehand.”

You blushed. “You know, I’ve never actually asked you what your age was.”

“My age?” he laughed, “Why? Do I look old?”

“No, no,” you quickly denied, “I’m just curious.”

“Guess how old I am.”

“Twenty-four?” you guessed.

“Woah, back up a few years,” he shook his head.

“Twenty-two?” you tried again.

“Close,” he nodded, “I’m twenty-one this year.”

“Argh, so close!” you said.

“How about you, princess?”

“I’m eighteen this year,” you told him.

“Phewh!” he gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, “Thank God for that.”

“Why?” you giggled, “Any specific reason why you would be relieved that I’ll be legal this year?”

“Of course,” he answered as a matter-of-factly, “There are so many reasons why I would be relieved.”

“Like?” you prompted.

“Like, I want to get into your pants?” he said bluntly, causing you to laugh out loud.

“Very direct, Jason,” you chuckled, “No sugar-coating at all.”

“Why would I?” he raised an eyebrow, “You should already know that I like you. You’re smart, beautiful, funny, not to mention hella clumsy.”

“Clumsy?” you shrilled.

“Yeah, I mean, for some reason you always get injuries. That cut on your forehead, now the infected ear,” he listed down, “I'm pretty sure if I got to know you longer I'd have more to add.”

“And that's a turn on for you?” you skeptically asked.

“No, but it makes for good entertainment,” he grinned, “But in all seriousness, you’re amazing.”

“Thank you,” you blushed, “You’re not too bad yourself. But actually…”

“What?”

“The legal age of consent for sex in Gotham is seventeen,” you stated, “So you shouldn’t have had to worry too much. Unless you thought that I was younger than that.”

“Huh. Didn’t know that,” he responded, “And hold up. There’s no way I would have thought you were younger than that. You’re too… developed.”

“Developed?” you laughed, “Interesting choice of words.”

“What can I say?” his expression changed, his voice lower, “I’ve stared more than I should.”

Oh, you were really blushing this time.

Not to mention the heat that shot down between your legs.

“Naughty,” you teased, “Unfortunately for me, all you wear are baggy hoodies so I can’t exactly stare back.”

“Hmm,” he hesitated for a while, and then raised his phone up high, so it could capture the rest of his shirtless upper body.

You tried to keep your reaction cool, because even in the dim light, you could see his ripped body. His pecs looked hard, and his abs- you wanted to lick them.

Your favourite part was the V that cut into his pants, teasing what was underneath.

“So what do you think?” he winked.

“Uhm,” you gulped, “Very nice.”

“Very descriptive,” he chuckled, and then brought his phone back down, “Your turn, sweetheart.”

“My turn?” you panicked.

You weren’t exactly wearing the sexiest choice of pyjamas. It Dick’s old and faded Superman t-shirt with shorts.

“Yeah, your turn,” he pressed, “I wanna see what you wear to bed.”

“O-okay,” you answered.

Slut. Your mother was back.

You straightened your knees and gave Jason a view of your upper body.

“Nice t-shirt,” he said stiffly. You thought you saw his jaw clench. “Superman fan?”

“It’s my brother’s. I’m more of a Batman and Robin fan,” you answered, smiling to yourself at the inside joke.

“I can see your nipples,” he pointed out.

Your eyes widen. Right, you weren't wearing your bra, so he would have been able to see them poking through the soft cotton. You brought your phone back closer to you.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” he smiled devilishly, “I think it’s hot.”

“I think you’re hot,” you blurted.

Whore.

“Very direct, angel,” he mocked your previous choice of words, “Oh yeah. Remember last week I said I had a dream about you?”

Oh, you remembered very well. “Uh-huh.”

“Well,” he began, “Wanna know what it was about?”

“I do, actually,” you bit your lip, “I was curious. Especially after you said that you were… finishing it.”

“It’s inappropriate,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“Which means it was sexual,” he stated.

“It’s okay.”

“Well, we were at the library,” he started without hesitation, “At the bookshelves. I had you against one of them, and you were in my arms.”

“What were we doing?” you prompted.

“I had my tongue in your mouth,” he smirked, “And I was touching you.”

You were rubbing your thighs together, and you realised you were breathing slightly faster.

“Where?” you pressed on.

“Your tits,” his voice was now husky, “Your hair. Everywhere.”

“Oh.”

“Want me to go on?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your free hand secretly cupping your sex underneath your shorts.

This was all new to you. Very new. You have wanted this so bad. You wanted to be naughty and inappropriate with boys you found attractive, but mother always stopped you.

It was too late for mother to stop you now.

“You were grinding against my dick,” he went on, “It felt really good.”

“I bet,” you grinned.

“Princess, are you really trying to be smart with me while I’m talking dirty to you?” he reprimanded lightly.

“It depends,” you shrugged.

“On what?”

“Whether or not you have your other hand down your pants like I do,” you boldly stated.

Jason really had the power to completely take off your mask, making you expose your true self to him. The one you had so desperately tried to hide from your parents, your peers, your family. Maybe it was the fact that he was basically a complete stranger that you could just cut off after. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t know you enough to judge you.

Whatever the reason was, it made you more confident, which evidently caught Jason off guard because of his current shocked expression.

Which turned into a much darker, and sinister one.

“Caught me,” he gave a side smile, “I’m really hard right now. Been hard after I saw your nipples.”

You let a finger between your pussy lips and felt that you were soaking.

“Oh,” you raised your eyebrows.

“What?”

“I’m wet,” you grinned at him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Do you wanna like, you know?”

“Wanna what?” you teased.

“Wanna touch yourself with me,” he continued, “You don’t have to show me anything. Just, let yourself loose.”

You pondered for a while.

The masked you would never ever do anything of this sort. But you figured that there was no harm in letting your mask slip completely from time to time if it wasn’t hurting anyone.

Besides, you’ve always wanted to do this.

You leaned back completely on the propped pillows, the camera on your phone only framing your head and your upper chest. You took off your shorts and spread your legs, brushing against your clit with a finger.

You moaned softly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he concluded excitedly. You saw that he was moving, busy with something using his other hand which was out of frame.

“Are you taking off your pants, Jason?” you asked.

“Yep,” he simply replied, “Aand, there. My dick is now free from its confinement.”

You giggled, now looking at him. His camera also framed his face and upper chest. His eyes were closed and you could see the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

He let out a short yet deep moan.

You bit your lip and started circling your clit.

“So, where was I?” he opened his eyes, “Oh, right. You were grinding on my dick. And, you were even begging me.”

“Begging you?” you sighed in pleasure.

“Y-yeah,” he confirmed, “You were begging me to hurry up and fuck you.”

His voice was sensual. The way his words rolled off his tongue was smooth like butter. You loved it when he said the F word. It sounded sexy.

“And did you?” you desperately asked.

“Not yet,” he told you, “No, I wanted to tease you more, so I just started finger fucking you-”

“Oh,” you sighed.

For some reason, you remembered when Red Hood stuck out his middle finger at you earlier. You imagined that very same long, thick finger inserting itself into your pussy. You tried to shove that thought away.

“Are you the loud type or the quiet type, Princess?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admitted, “I was never in any situation where I needed to be quiet or loud.”

“Means that we just have to find out, huh?” he teased.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Yeah, i’d like that.”

There was a moment of silence where the both of you were just enjoying the pleasure you were giving yourselves, looking at each others expressions on screen and listening to the heavy pants of each others laboured breathing.

“What happened next?” you prompted.

“Your begging was too much to handle, so I started fucking you,” he continued, “You were loud.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In fact, even if you're the quiet type, I don't think you'll be able to stay quiet if I'm the one fucking you, sweetheart,” he said.

“Mmm,” you hummed, lost in the fantasy of Red Hood fucking you hard until you screamed.

Jason. You meant Jason.

“I was- mmm- I was super stressed out today,” he explained, eyes closed. You could see one shoulder and the top of his bicep making small movements, probably stroking his cock.

You wanted to see his cock so bad.

“What happened?” you breathed.

“Long story,” he grunted, “A colleague annoyed me. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

You understood, and also made a mental reminder to ask Jason what he was working as while waiting to apply for the police force.

“Then what- what do you want to talk about, Jason?” you asked, pleasure slowly building up, heat spreading from your core to the rest of you.

You’ve never been that turned on in your entire life. Granted, you never put yourself in any situations that would have aroused you. You’ve never seen porn.

But you knew that at that moment in time, you were horny as hell.

“I want to talk about how perfect I think your tits would look like,” he said, “If they were bouncing in front of me right now while you ride me.”

You moaned loudly at his words. He was good at dirty talk. You liked it very much.

You wondered if Red Hood liked your tits, since he got to grope them quite a bit.

“You sound sexy,” he commented.

“So do you,” you replied, “Fuck, Jason. I’m so horny.”

“Me too, princess. Me too,” he agreed, “I really want to fuck you.”

His eyes were hooded, looking at you through his own screen. You saw that his arm movements were getting faster.

“I want to lick your cock,” you said, before laughing to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, a smile appearing on his lips.

“I never thought I’d actually say that to someone,” you confessed.

“There's always a first for everything, angel,” he jested, “Hmm, now you've put the mental image of me fucking your mouth in my head.”

“And how does that image look?”

“Looks like I can come to that image alone.”

“Mmm, I think I’m getting close.”

You started speeding up, feeling all your juices leak and spread onto the whole of your pussy.

“I want to hear you come,” he groaned, and picked up the pace and force. You knew, because you heard a sound coming from Jason’s end.

A wet, slapping sound.

“Jason, your dick sounds are really hot,” you panted.

“Your expressions are really hot,” he responded, “Also your moans.”

“Mmm, Jason,” you breathed, “I think I’m-”

You felt a tightening in your core as you sped up your rhythm, your eyes closed shut and your mouth open in a silent scream. You built and built and built until-

“Fuck! Red!” you cried as you felt your pussy flutter and you reached your peak.

“Shit, fuck- ah!” he gasped. You opened your eyes immediately to see him with an almost angry frown and biting his lip too hard.

You felt your clit tingle when you saw him in that expression.

He opened his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“That felt good,” he panted.

“Yeah,” you giggled.

“Red?” he asked, looking amused.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“When you came, you said- well, moaned- Red,” he pointed out.

“Did I?” you panicked. You really didn't have any control over yourself when you were at that state of ecstasy. “You must have misheard me. Why would I moan a colour?”

“You tell me,” he smirked, a twinkle in his eye.

“I really don't know what to say,” you denied.

What the fuck? You moaned Red, as in Red Hood?

“I guess random things slip out when people come. It's fine. But I’d like to do that again, baby girl,” he smiled sleepily at you.

Baby girl.

“Me too, but, uhm,” you mumbled, “Please don’t call me that? Everything else is fine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he hurriedly apologised, “I didn’t realise-”

“No, it’s fine,” you shook your head, “It’s just that- this guy I really despise likes to call me that. If you call me that, you’ll remind me of him.”

“I get it,” he frowned, “Why don’t you tell him to stop?”

“He won’t listen,” you almost laughed at the prospect of Red Hood apologising for calling you that.

“Who is he?”

“Some jackass I ran into and for some reason won’t leave me alone,” you rolled your eyes.

“That sounds serious,” he pointed out, “Is he a stalker? Why don’t you go to the police?”

You snorted.

“What?”

“Uh, sorry,” you mentally slapped yourself, “I mean, I don’t think the police can do anything about this guy.”

“Why, is he like the president or something?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Or something,” you revealed vaguely.

Jason looked genuinely concerned about your safety. You found that so sweet. You might actually consider a long term relationship with him.

“Well if you see him when we’re out together, tell me, because I’ll beat him up for you,” he assured you.

You thought about what would happen if Jason and Red Hood got into a fight and resisted chuckling to yourself.

“Of course. I won’t even stop you,” you humoured him.

“Good,” he yawned.

“You should go to bed,” you yawned back.

“Mmkay,” he mumbled, eyes drooping, “I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” you acknowledged.

“Goodnight, princess. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, handsome,” you winked, and ended the call.

You sighed and lied down, staring at the ceiling.

It was definitely a different feeling, doing it with another person over video call. Jason had a way with words, making your experience even more intensefully heightened.

You enjoyed yourself a lot, but after ending the call with him and rethinking about everything, you suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash over you.

Because you just whored yourself out, you pathetic bitch!

There she was again.

You wondered if you could ever get rid of her.

You buried your face in your pillow and tried your best to ignore the haunting voice of your mother in your head.

You felt guilty for thinking of Red Hood too. This would have been the second time you orgasmed to him. And you’ve only orgasmed twice anyway, which meant that you’ve orgasmed to him every single time you masturbated, which meant that you couldn’t orgasm to anyone else besides Red Hood, which meant that-

You groaned.

You didn’t want to overthink your obvious sexual attraction to Red Hood, because how could you ever face him and fight him again the next time you see him?

***

Jason chuckled to himself as he cleaned the cum from his abdomen.

He thought that you were hotter, sexier than he ever imagined you to be. Phase 2 of his plan was going way too easy. You were already thinking about him.

You were thinking about Red Hood when you came.

It was too easy.

He shook his head and laughed. He guessed that Batman never taught you how to resist seduction.

He chuckled again before closing his eyes.

Too easy.

***

You gagged.

You felt bile rising from the back of your throat, your stomach feeling queasy and uneasy, as if your stomach acids were full and overflowing. Like if you were to do a handstand that very moment, all your stomach juices would come out down your oesophagus.

“Robin, don’t look away,” Batman asserted next to you, “Don’t be queasy.”

You took a deep breath- wait, bad idea. It smelled like blood.

You gulped and willed yourself to look at the three decapitated heads that were pierced by 3 pikes, spearing through the cut off neck, blood slowly dripping down the wooden stick.

The spears were driven into the wooden panels of the bar floor in a row, the warm dim light only barely illuminating the scene before you. All were male, all were brunettes. One was staring blankly at you, his pompadour messy, while the other two had their eyes shut in an expression of grimace.

At least you were at a bar on a Saturday night.

“If you look away, you’ll miss things,” Batman explained to you.

Batman had tapped into the GCPD radio feed like he did so many times before, and someone had called 911, describing an armed man with a red helmet had started to attack some people at Black Bass Bar in the East End, on Murphy Avenue. The both of you were patrolling The Bowery when Batman heard the call.

Despite rushing to the location much faster than the police department, Red Hood was already gone, leaving an empty bar with shattered glass all over the floor and three heads on pikes, their bodies dumped in the far right corner of the room.

Each body were missing every single finger except the middle.

Now that you looked at the heads, you couldn’t stop. You felt an eerie pull towards them, an unsettling feeling of anxiety settling at the pit of your stomach.

It was different from the mauling the Ibenescus faced at the club. Indeed, the mauling was more gruesome and the thought had disturbed you quite a bit, but you figured the adrenaline rush that Red Hood had incited that day due to the fight had prevented you from fully taking in and processing what had happened.

Because as of now, the room was empty and quiet. You weren’t in a hurry, and you were forced to take in everything.

It felt like the first time you’ve ever seen a dead body. You didn’t know why you were afraid of a cold empty shell, yet you couldn’t stop looking.

You couldn’t believe that you were justifying Red Hood’s actions. You couldn’t believe that you were sexually attracted to him. This served as a reminder as who he was-

A sick, depraved human being.

You closed your eyes at an empty attempt to try to forget the image, but it was too late. It was already seared in your mind.

What did these people do to deserve such a cruel, undignified death-

“Hmm,” Batman hummed, making you open your eyes, “Red Hood must still have trouble with the human trafficking ring.”

“What?” you frowned.

“Alexandru and Elias Ibenescu,” Batman pointed to the two heads from the right, “And Jarick Bucinschi.”

Right, you could see it now.

Alexandru and Elias Ibenescu were cousins of the main 4 brothers that lead the human trafficking ring- the ones who were mauled. Jarick Bucinschi was a Slav who married into the Ibenescu family and joined the ring.

You had read it all in the case file when the Ibenescus’ got murdered just over a week ago. You were too preoccupied with being disturbed by the heads to recognize their faces.

From what you read in their files, these people kidnapped women and children to sell them off to disgusting people to be prostituted or harvested for organs.

You didn’t feel sorry for them anymore.

But that didn’t make the scene before you any less gruesome.

There was blood smeared all over the floor, and some footprints all leading out, already oxidizing and turning into a shade of dark brown.

“I wonder why they’re so insistent,” you voiced out, walking towards the bodies in the corner, “The others submitted to Red Hood just fine.”

Batman was bending down and looking at the heads where the neck were cut off, the sounds of police sirens from outside getting close.

“Not everyone,” Batman answered, “It’s only been a week since Red Hood showed his dominance on the underground. These people and their families have been controlling their rings for decades. They wouldn’t submit so easily.”

“So who else?”

“Black Mask, officially. What’s left of the Ibenescu ring was supposed to submit too, but like Gordon said before, it was a massive operation with several people the Patru Frati appointed to directly work under them. The cousins must have thought that now the leaders were gone, they would be the next in line to take over,” Batman deduced.

Patru Frati. The direct translation of ‘Four Brothers’ in Romanian.

“So what is this, a statement? A warning of sorts?” you guessed.

“It seems so,” Batman straightened up and walked towards where you were, observing the headless bodies, “Hmm.”

“What is it?”

“Tell me what happened here,” he asked.

A test.

“He sliced off their heads pretty cleanly,” you pointed out, “He’s skilled with a sword, most probably a katana.”

“What else?”

“Obviously the middle finger he’s trying to show us again,” you grumbled, referring to the amputated fingers, “I don’t know if he cut them off post-mortem or not.”

“Yes, there’s too much blood from the decapitation,” Batman agreed.

“How much do you want to bet that he did it while they were still alive, that fucking psycho,” you muttered.

“What can you tell from the amputation?” Batman pressed.

“That he’s mocking you, just like how he was at the docks,” you concluded.

“Jesus Christ,” a tired sigh came from behind the two of you.

You turned to see Gordon grimace, not unlike the expressions on the heads.

He looked at you, and then to Batman with concern, “You sure she’s not too young to see these things, Batman?”

“I’m fi-” you started.

“She can handle anything I can,” he replied sternly.

That made your heart swell.

He looked at Batman through judgemental eyes, and then proceeded to walk over to the bodies.

After a few moments, he chuckled, “How old is this guy?”

Batman gave him a glare.

Gordon shrugged, “Just an observation.”

The forensics walked in, and immediately scowled when they saw the two of you. They were never big fans of Batman and Robin, because the two of you would arrive at locations first and “contaminated the crime scene”.

You smirked, your nerves slowly calming down the more people arrived. It made the atmosphere less eerie.

Because the truth was, you weren’t fine. You thought that Gotham could throw anything at you, and you would be able to stomach it.

You were wrong.

“I trust you have the files on these three,” Batman told Gordon.

“Yeah,” Gordon nodded, “These three were always able to get away without getting charged. I almost gave up at one point. I don’t want to say good riddance, but… well…”

“We’re done here,” Batman stated, and you started to follow behind him as he proceeded to walk out.

“Wait,” the commissioner stopped him, “You should know that there’s a gang war brewing, according to my informant.”

“As expected,” Batman acknowledged, and walked out.

***

“Did he really need to take all that time and effort to make such a statement?” your voice echoed in the Cave.

Bruce had taken out his cowl and was sitting at his large computer table, logging the events of that night. You were standing next to him, leaning against the table with a mug of hot chocolate in your still gloved hands.

“I mean,” you continued, “Isn’t killing them already enough of a warning?”

“You have to understand that these criminals kill on almost a daily basis,” Bruce explained without taking his eyes off the screen, “Dead bodies are part of the job. They’re desensitized to death.”

“So in order to strike fear, he has to do more than just kill,” you pieced everything together, “He has to make it look painful and... degrading.”

“Exactly,” Bruce paused typing and turned to look at you in the eye, “You did well today. Are you okay?”

“I can handle whatever you can handle,” you grinned, repeating his own words.

“Good,” he praised, “Things will only get worse. You will see worse things.”

“More so than people getting mauled by robot dogs and decapitation?” you rolled your eyes.

“Lazlo Valentin is still in Arkham,” Batman reminded you, raising an eyebrow.

He was right. You never had a Professor Pyg case before. From what you’ve read about him, you thanked your lucky stars.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “And let’s hope he stays there.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, “However, it is perfectly normal for these things to keep you up at night. Will you tell me when it does?”

“I will,” you promised.

You tossed and turned that night.

You didn’t want to close your eyes, because you didn’t want to see the scene again. But it wasn’t any different from staring in your dark room.

You were afraid to fall asleep, because you had just woken up from a nightmare. The heads again. This time staring at you with all of their eyes wide open, the glassy emptiness of their expression somehow pulling you in closer.

You couldn’t stop looking at those eyes.

The overwhelming sense of anxiety of dread drowned you, and you woke up, sweating despite the cold temperature.

“Fuck,” you groaned, and squinted at the sudden bright light of your phone when you looked at the time. It was already 5 in the morning, the sun would be up in less than two hours.

Thank God it was a Sunday.

When you finally managed to fall asleep, you slept in late. It was already midday when you woke up and went down for breakfast. Bruce gave you a break from training that day, because he somehow knew that you had trouble sleeping.

That was fine, you had another mission that day.

Your mission was to get over your fear of mutilated bodies.

So you sat yourself in front of your laptop on your study desk. You would have tried going to Gotham Public Library- a replacement for the one you lost- if it wasn’t for the sensitive nature of your research.

You first went through Bruce’s files on the more gruesome cases in Gotham. He wrote very detailed description of the cases, along with pictures he snapped from the camera in his cowl. You were glad you weren’t around when some of these criminals were active.

Most of them were in Arkham Asylum. The Joker, Lazlo Valentin, Victor Zsaz. After Jason Todd died, Bruce made sure they would never get the taste of freedom ever again- unless rehabilitated.

We’ll see how long that lasts. They always find a way to escape.

So the crime in Gotham were now dominated by gangsters. They were harder to charge, because they were slick and rich. Filthy rich.

They could bribe the judge, the jury, the officers- anyone. And they had the money to hire the best lawyers, and somehow also get rid of incriminating evidence.

Hence, the heavier crimes you saw when you started as Robin were gang related.

You wondered for a second how Jason Todd dealt with the surplus of mentally insane criminals. He’d probably know a thing or two about brutal deaths.

You caught yourself chuckling, and then felt immediately bad.

Your phone buzzed.

Thinking of ex-Robins, Dick was calling you.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Hey, sis! You busy?” his warm voice comforted you.

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files,” you told him, “What’s up?”

“Can’t I call to just ask you how you’re doing?”

“You already called last week,” your voice leaked suspicion.

“I can’t call you again?” he asked sarcastically.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you stated.

He paused. And then-

“Yeah,” he confessed, “He was worried about you after… After last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you sighed.

“Well, if you’re not then you can talk to me,” he offered.

“Actually, yeah,” you agreed, “How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

“The gore?” he started, “Of course it did. It was scary. I remember when I saw my first dead body. Kept me up for days.”

“Yeah, it did for me as well,” you admitted, “But then I just got… used to it, you know? But then this asshole comes and starts mutilating people. I mean, the occasional amputated limb or decapitated head is one thing, but he arranged them on spikes!”

“Yeah, must have been a spectacle,” he said, “But, really, I know these things are part of the job and all, but it affects everyone. You shouldn’t pretend that you’re fine when you’re not. Talking to someone about it really helps.”

“Well, I’m talking to you aren’t I?” you teased.

“I guess you are,” your brother chuckled.

“So how did you get over it?” you inquired.

“Well,” he began, “It really affected me, that’s for one. I always had trouble waking up for school the next day because of the nightmares, and well, thoughts. The darkness and silence really gets to you.”

“I know what you mean,” you agreed.

“And really, I talked to people about it,” he explained, “People who knew what I was going through. And after a while, it became easier to think that you’re not the only one affected by it. Anyone normal would be.”

“And did it ever go away? The fear?”

“Eventually, it did. I kept on thinking that it doesn’t get worse than whatever that was I saw then, but oh trust me, it kept on getting worse. To the point where I just… Treated it like another case to solve,” he told you.

“So you’re telling me to just expect the worst?” you scoffed.

“It doesn’t sound like much, but it helps you deal with it in the mean time. When you expect something so horrible, but it ends up being not so bad as what you imagined,” he continued, “You’ll be relieved to see just a decapitated head.”

A moment of comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you took everything in.

“Hey, Dick?” you tried, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How did, uh, he deal with it?” you winced to yourself. You didn’t like bringing up Jason Todd because of how it affected everyone around you, which was why you never really brought him up to begin with.

You heard a long sigh.

“He came to me as well,” Dick reminisced, “He used to call me up in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. It was almost every night. He was sensitive- for a while. And then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself. He got braver and more confident. He was a smart kid too. Hardworking. I bet he probably did some weird cognitive therapy on himself to get over his fears. Wouldn’t be surprising.”

You felt a sudden spark of jealousy when you heard Dick talk about your predecessor in such a tone. You wondered if you were better than Jason Todd.

That was an issue you never really figured out how to solve.

Your constant competition with a phantom of the past.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy then,” you lightened the mood, “Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

“No problem, kid,” he assure you, “Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

After that, you moved on from Bruce’s case files to documentaries and articles, some of them making you cry as you read them.

Because the reading material you had on the Murder of Junko Furuta was only the Wikipedia page- and it was enough to make you choke back tears. You couldn’t finish reading the article.

You wondered if you could ever be desensitized to these things. You wondered if you actually wanted to be. But what Dick said earlier resonated in you. Anyone normal would be affected by it.

Because it must take a heartless, soulless person to not blink an eye to such brutalities.

But you couldn’t stop looking for more.

And somewhere along the way, you started watching videos.

The deep web was a scary place. The highest level of the deep web was full of depravity, the epitome of human wickedness.

And the scariest thing? The internet we normal people surf on a daily basis, the ones that pop up on search engines, makes up only 4% of web content. The other 96% of the digital universe is on the deep web- the stuff you can’t just Google.

Sifting through movie pirating websites and file sharing users with questionable content, you ended up watching leaked videos of beheadings and drug cartel torture.

After a couple hours, you found yourself able to handle the disturbing images better. You were more intrigued rather than scared.

You felt better.

But that was because you were sitting on a chair, in the comfort of your own room. No smell of blood, no dim lights and eerie silence.

Now you found yourself wanting to be tested again, hating the fact that by doing so, you were basically anticipating another brutal murder by Red Hood, just to prove to yourself that you had succeeded your own personal mission.

***

There was a sort of an annoying buzz in the air.

Like a mosquito that wouldn’t stop bothering you.

You felt restless.

It had already been more than a week since The Black Bass Bar, and it was Tuesday morning, and you were in class, and you were looking out the window, shaking your knee. You felt like your joints were aching, like right before you got a cold. The last two days had been uneventful, even during patrol.

No sign of Red Hood whatsoever. No gang related crimes.

It was like the underworld was holding its breath.

Maybe even Red Hood needed his break from time to time.

That night you went on patrol like you always did during a weekday. You were split from Batman- on your own motorbike- but not too far away from each other. You were currently in Chinatown, zooming past little alleyways to find a perfect place to park.

It was around 11pm, yet the area was still bustling with life. The red lanterns that hung above you contributed little to the illumination of the town, because the brightness came from many chinese stalls and restaurants that were open, full of merry people drinking their beer at the array of large round outdoor tables that occupied half the street.

As you appreciated the smell of seafood and bak kut teh that wafted through the air, overpowering the usual smell of pollution, you suddenly heard a loud explosion coming from the direction you were heading to.

You somehow knew who you were going to meet that night.

Finally, you thought.

You were getting bored.

You wanted to see him. He got you excited.

But in a curious way.

The past week that you were researching criminal behavior and also brutal murders, you got intrigued by his philosophy, and you wanted to know more about how he thinks.

You weren’t scared of him anymore.

“Robin,” you heard Batman’s voice in your ear, as expected, “Wait for me.”

“But I’m five minutes away, Batman,” you argued, “I think it’s at that warehouse complex. I’ll circle to the loading bay.”

“Do not proceed without me, Robin,” Batman growled.

“But by the time you reach here, he’ll get away,” you frustratedly reasoned.

“You don’t know who it is,” Batman hissed.

“But-”

“That’s an order,” he commanded, “Stay-”

You pressed the button in your ear, and click, he was gone.

“To hell with your orders,” you muttered to yourself and drove high speed to the loading bay of the warehouse, the lights of the town dimming behind you and a new orange light came slowly into view.

The warehouse was old, but not run down. It was a complex that consisted of 6 blocks, and a large loading bay for trucks. Two blocks were ablaze, fire licking the wooden crates you could see from the opened metal doors.

And there was Red Hood, who just threw in a grenade at a third opened door, and walked away from the explosion calmly towards his large, black superbike.

You drove your bike to a halt right in front of his.

You expected him to get on the defense, to take out his guns, to try to escape- anything. But he just leaned against his bike with his arms crossed, like he was expecting you.

You ignored the way his biceps flexed underneath his leather jacket.

“Where’s the old man?” his scrambled voice reached your ears.

“On the way,” you got off your bike and got into a defensive position, keeping your distance from him.

“Hmm,” he simply said, cocking his head to the side like a curious cat.

“Who’s warehouse is this?” you asked.

You knew he wouldn’t do things without a reason.

“Black Mask,” he shrugged simply, “His main armory.”

“Why did you kill the Ibenescus?” you straightforwardly asked.

“They’re filth who refuse to work with me,” he simply answered.

“Why did you do it in such a violent way?” you inquired.

“As a message to others,” he replied without hesitation.

“You tortured them alive,” you pointed out.

“So?” he scoffed, “They deserve much worse for what they do. You have no idea what they put innocent people through.”

You frowned in deep thought.

“What’s your end goal?” you demanded.

“Controlled crime,” he answered.

You didn’t have time to think about his answer then, or ask him more. Batman would be there any second.

“I’m going to have to stop you now,” you told him.

“Oh, baby girl,” he drawled, “You can try.”

You attacked him in a low sweep kick, which he easily avoided by jumping, but the moment he was midair, you quickly got back on your feet and tackled him into his bike, causing it to fall over.

Before you could stand, he had one hand around your neck, restricting your airflow.

He landed a punch at your stomach, making you want to vomit. He then used his grip on you to throw you on the ground. You felt a hard blow at your ribs when he kicked you, making you cough.

He stood over you as you scrambled to get on your feet.

He kicked you again, and you gasped as the air escaped out of you forcefully through his blows.

You felt his abnormal strength from his grips and kicks. Every time you tried to stand, he would kick you on the side.

“I don’t enjoy this,” his static voice started, “Stand down.”

You struggled to roll over on your stomach to get on all fours. You secretly reached for the R shuriken on your left breast, hiding it from his view, and then turned around in a flash, throwing it at him.

The bastard saw it coming, and he dodged it. During the one moment of distraction, you shot up on your feet and attempted to punch him. He caught your fists with a hand, and lifted his other fist.

You waited for the blow to your face.

But it never came. His fists were still in the air, aiming at your head, yet it never landed. You took his moment of hesitation to throw an undercut.

You felt a small crack in his helmet when the blow connected with your gauntlet covered knuckles.

You grinned, pleased with yourself as you watched him stumble backwards, tripping over his own bike.

Even though he was wearing the stupid helmet, you felt him glare at you. His right arm reached for something, and then you were blinded by a white light.

You hissed and closed your eyes, cursing at yourself for not looking away sooner before he threw the flashbang.

You heard the sound of an engine starting, and you stumbled forward in your blind daze.

When you finally regained your eyesight, the first thing your eyes saw was a disgruntled Batman with his arms crossed, looming over you.

Judging from the slight downturned corner of his tightly closed lips, he was practically fuming.

“I almost had him,” you winced, as you felt the pain from the blows you took now that your adrenaline rush was over.

He remained silent.

“He would have gotten away and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you tried to justify.

Without breaking eye contact with you, Batman pointed to a CCTV that was very much still active.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you shrugged.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” he fumed.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you argued, “You always say to follow your instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders,” he retorted.

“Wow,” you scoffed, “Just- wow.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Well, since I’m sure you’re going to dismiss me for tonight, I’ll be heading back now,” you walked to your bike, grimacing at the pain the whole way.

“Robin,” Batman called before you could drive away, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

You paused.

“Okay.”

*** “Take a deep breath and hold it,” you heard Alfred’s voice coming from the speakers in the small X-Ray room in the very far end of the cave.

You winced and did as you were told. You heard a beep, and then breathed normally again.

You walked out the room in a thin cotton robe and sat on a medical examination bed in the centre of the cave.

“Well, no broken ribs or fractures,” Alfred came out, holding the X-Ray image of your thorax, “Thankfully, your injuries are merely superficial.”

“Good,” you huffed, “Still hurts, though.”

“Yes, bruises tend to hurt,” he agreed, “Any other injuries I should know of? Your head, in particular.”

“No, no head injuries,” you shook your head. He specifically did not give you any head injuries.

“Very well, then. You are good to go,” Alfred dismissed you.

By the time you were ready for bed, it was half past midnight.

You admittedly felt bad for arguing with Bruce the way you did earlier. You rarely ever disobeyed him- but when you did, you would lie in bed for hours feeling guilty.

After all, he took you in, raised you, trained you, made you who you were. And you were forever grateful for that.

But sometimes he was just so frustrating.

It was either his way or the highway. But you guessed that’s the deal with most parents.

You sighed to yourself. You needed a distraction. You’ve been feeling anxious and restless the past few days.

You called Jason.

“Hello?” he answered, his voice slightly breathless.

“Hey, it’s me,” you greeted him, “Are you busy?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said.

“Would you like to hang out tomorrow after I finish school?” you asked, “I was thinking Robinson Park.”

“Really?” he blurted, “You’re feeling okay?”

You were taken aback.

“Of course I am,” you replied, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just thought that you were busy on school days, that’s all,” he chuckled.

“I’ve got nothing on tomorrow,” you explained, “I just feel like winding down for a bit. Take a stroll, eat ice cream.”

“Okay, then. See you at Robinson Park at…?”

“I finish at three, so I’ll be there around three twenty?” you told him.

“Awesome! I’ll see you tomorrow at three, princess.”

“See you, Jason.”

*** The weather was nice, considering that it was Gotham. You got lucky that it wasn’t all too gloomy that day, and there were actually birds chirping about.

You were sitting on a bench at Robinson Park in a tank top and shorts- you took the time to change before you came- watching as joggers passed by and kids chased their dogs. Suddenly, you had an ice cream cone pushed up in front of your face.

You looked up and saw Jason grinning, holding the cone.

“I didn’t know what flavor you liked, so I just got this one. If you don’t like it I can go back and buy another-”

“No, no,” you insisted, taking the cone from him, “I’m fine with this. Thank you.”

He sat down next to you. He was wearing a tight light grey shirt that stretched marvelously across his chest. It was the first time you saw him wear something that showed you what he actually looked like underneath.

His biceps reminded you of Red Hood’s flexed-

No, stop it. What was wrong with you?

“So,” he began, “What’s up with the…”

He gestured to your knuckles, which were taped and bandaged. You had cuts and bruises that needed to be bandaged on your knuckles, due to Red Hood’s hard helmet.

“Oh, I do MMA,” you answered smoothly, a lie that you had perfected over the years, “It’s funny, actually. I sometimes show up to school with bruises on my shoulders, or a black eye- stuff so bad that makeup couldn’t even cover it. Everyone thought my dad was abusing me.”

You let out a well practiced chuckle.

“So you not only get injured over glass doors, but you also let yourself voluntarily get beaten up?” he laughed.

“It’s a sport, okay!” you giggled, “I’m not too bad at it.”

“I’m not too bad at fighting, myself,” he grinned, and then licked his ice cream.

You forced yourself to not stare at his wet lips.

“You know martial arts?” you exclaimed, “Wait, what am I talking about? Of course you do. You’re planning to join the force.”

“Well, yes,” he said, “But I bet you’re better.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at the size of you!” you blurted.

“And there you go talking about my size again,” he feigned a hurt sigh.

“Oh, please,” you playfully slapped his arm, “Oh, I saw a meme this morning that reminded me of you- wait, let me show you.”

“Meme?” he asked.

You looked at him weird.

“Yeah?” you said slowly, “Don’t you know what a meme is?”

He blinked at you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “Have you been living under a rock all these years? Where were you in 2010?”

You saw him frown slightly, and clench his jaw.

You immediately felt bad.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” you started.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, “It’s just that I’m not really on the internet much. No Myspace, or whatever.”

“Myspace?” you giggled, “Myspace is dead, Jason. It’s all Instagram now.”

“Well, let’s just say that living under a rock is quite an accurate statement you made,” he chuckled, yet no humour was in his eyes.

You tried to decipher the joke, but failed.

“Hey, wanna fight?” he changed the subject.

“Sorry?”

“I mean, spar,” he smirked, “It would be fun.”

You paused for awhile, thinking of your injuries. They were minor and usually you would be on patrol the day right after a light beating as well, so you figured why not.

“It’s on!” you stood up and gobbled up your ice cream, “Let’s find a nice spot.”

The two of you followed the park’s path, and settled on a flat area of soft grass a few metres down.

“I’m gonna have to touch you places, princess,” he warned, “You okay with that?”

“Oh, you can touch me anywhere you want,” you winked back at him.

His expression changed from excitement to a darker glint in his eye.

You got into your usual defensive position. You figured you were just going to go easy on him.

You went in for a right hook, which he dodged easily. And then a jab. He dodged again. You weren’t really aiming to hit him, as it was just a sparring session.

You kinda just want to tackle him to the ground.

So you went in for a low sweep, which he surprisingly avoided too. You frowned, thinking he was much better than you thought he was.

“I thought you said you weren’t too bad?” he gave you a smug look.

You narrowed your eyes at him, and then an idea popped into your head.

You wanted to just tackle him to the ground? So that’s what you did.

You ran head first in his direction, body bent low just like a football player, and tackled him to the ground.

He landed with an “Oof” on his back, but before you could even think of your next step, he had his hand around your neck and flung you off of him.

You laid on your back, letting the wet grass seep into your clothes, wide eyes and in shock.

“Oh, shit. Are you okay? I’m so sor-” Jason approached you to help you up, but you reflexively backed away from him.

It was illogical of you to back away from him, especially since he didn’t hurt you, but that move he made, it seemed too familiar.

“Fuck, princess,” Jason panicked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You just caught me off guard and it was like a reflex. I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

You looked up at Jason’s wide, blue eyes. He was slightly sweaty, and his lips were apart, breathing heavily. He looked kind and concerned. You shook your head and laughed to yourself at your own ridiculousness.

There was no way your Jason could be Red Hood.

“It’s fine,” you chuckled, “I wasn’t expecting that move, that’s all. Come on, help me up.”

You held out your hand, and he pulled you up.

“Could you help brush off the grass from my back, please?” you asked politely.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded and then proceeded to do as you asked. He didn’t even hesitate to brush off the grass off your butt. After he was done, he gave it a small slap, and grinned cheekily.

“Naughty,” you eyed him, smiling.

The two of you continued walking on the path, deciding silently not to continue sparring. You bickered and joked for around half an hour, before you needed to go back.

“I had a good time, Jason. Thank you, I needed this,” you said.

“No problem. You can call me anytime,” he suddenly hesitated and avoided your eye, “And uh, I’m sorry about just now. I really didn’t mean to.”

“I told you, it’s fine,” you dismissed.

“No, it’s not fine,” he grabbed your hands and stood in front of you, close.

So close, you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face and count the little white scars that littered his skin here and there, even some freckles, and you could see how long and thick his eyelashes were.

“I’m really, truly sorry,” he whispered, lifting your chin up, “I would never ever hurt you, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, consumed by his closeness and the icy blue of his eyes.

“I’m not a creep,” he chuckled lightly, “So you can trust me.”

“Okay,” you repeated.

“You’re really pretty close up,” he laughed nervously.

You hadn’t realised that the two of you were inching closer and closer together, until you felt his lips brush against yours lightly, as if he was asking you if it was okay.

You crashed your lips against his, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from him. He tasted like vanilla and strawberries- from the ice cream he had before.

The kiss was short and sweet- as you were in a public area. You broke it off and blushed.

“So, uh,” he panted, “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” you sighed back, “I’ll see you around.”

Once you were out of his view, you squealed to yourself as you rejoiced at your first kiss.

[ashes-and-ashes]

Conversation immediately goes to tell all their friends. So through the last couple of months, the lil shits tease and pester Pads about it. Even attempting to physically bully him. Of course they only do this when Pads is alone. (Who can decide if he keep it to himself but for more angst I originally thought he’d stay quiet about it.) So when Moony finds out by finding the evil bullies bugging his best friend, Pads is terrified what his reaction might be. (You can change it up a little idc) -Em

(Second Image is the first part of the prompt, the first image is actually the second part.)

Okay, so this is Part 2! I really hope you like it! It’s probably still crappy cause left hand, so please, please forgive me for any typos or generally shitty writing!

tw for homophobia, bullying and some derogatory language

Part 2:

~

James finds him in the hallway.

He didn’t know how long he had been lying there. It had been quick, merciless and fast. He had been by himself, walking down the hall, when he was stunned from behind. All he remembers was the impact, the way he fell forward, nose crunching against the ground, a flash of green from Slytherin robes disappearing around the corner.

James silently flicks his wand, the spell leaving his cramped muscles, and Sirius sighs. “Thanks.”

James nods, offering a hand out to Sirius. Sirius takes it, his cold fingers wrapped in James’ warm ones, trying not to let his hand shake, trying not to fall apart. He exhales, nose still leaking blood, throbbing and painful.

James winces. “You should see Pomfrey for that. It’s definitely broken, Pads. Smashed pretty good. I’ll walk you there.”

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He pulls out his wand, placing the tip against his nose. “Episkey.” With a crunch, his nose snaps into place, and Sirius lets out a quiet moan as he staggers against James. “It’s fine. I’m okay.”

“Like hell you are.” James glares, one arm underneath Sirius’, propping him up against the wall. “They’re hurting you, Pads! They are full blown fucking killing you, and you’re just going to do nothing?”

Sirius shrugs. He jabs at his sleeve with his wand, the caked blood vanishing with a hiss. He had always been good at that, hiding all the blood and scars and injuries. “I’m fine, Prongs. It’s good. We hex them all the time.”

“Jesus - “ James splutters, his face angry and incredulous. “Look, Pads. There’s hexing. Sure, it sucks, and their hair turns pink for a couple of hours, but this! This is full out assault, Sirius. They are literally hurting you!”

Sirius shrugs his hand off, bracing himself against the wall. “I said it’s fine, James. Fucking drop it, yeah?”

When James speaks, his voice is soft. “They broke your nose, Pads. This, and Mulciber broke your finger, remember, and that other bastard knocked you out in the library and - “ He sighs. “And I know what they call you, Pads. Jesus, you have to tell someone. Go to McGonagall!”

Sirius looks down, his voice flat and empty. “And say what, Prongs? That I’m dating Moony? Tell her I’m shagging a boy?” He snarls. “It’s not even my secret to tell, James. She can’t do anything. No one can do anything. All you can do is grin and fucking bear it.”

“But - “

Sirius laughs. “Whatever. I’m used to it.” He smiles. “You think what they do is bad? This isn’t pain, James. For God’s sake, I’ve been cut, I’ve been beaten, I’ve lain on the ground while my mother cut wounds into my back. I’ve been Crucio’d so bad that once, I couldn’t walk until 2 weeks later. I can’t feel my lip, you know, because I’ve bitten through it so many times trying not to scream. So they can’t do anything, James. There’s nothing more they can do. No one will understand.”

“Remus would.” James’ gaze is steady. “You’re right, I can never understand, but Remus can. Tell him, Sirius. You’re being hurt because of him.”

“No.” Sirius’ voice is distant, cool mist over a grey lake. “I’m not bothering him with this. And you can’t tell him. Swear it.”

James exhales. “Fine. But you can’t carry this on your own, Pads. It’ll destroy you.”

Sirius stands, pushing away from the wall. He turns, to walk away, away from the pain and the expectations and the guilt. “Then let it destroy me, Prongs. I guess I fucking deserve it.”

~

He stares down at the parchment, the words swimming in front of him. The cuts underneath his eye throb, his fingers coming away wet with blood when he touches it.

He had told Remus that it came from a Quidditch match, ignoring the agonized look that passed over James’ face. Remus had nodded, brushing over the cut with soft fingers, before Sirius had stalked off to finish his astronomy essay.

With a sigh, he dips his quill in ink, scratching a few letters onto the page. The positioning of Saturn’s rings against the alignment of Uranus’ gravitational pull suggests that...

A splotch of blood falls onto the parchment, crimson red against the yellow. Sirius swears, vanishing the droplet, then places his head into his arms.

It had started off so small. Mainly the Slytherins, but a few others as well. Just small comments: “You’re a fag!” “Always knew you were a poof, Black.” “Running off to shag that boy of yours?” Always when he was alone, never with anyone else.

He had ignored it, held his head high, slung insults and later jinxes right back at them. Even when the curses were thrown, when he started hiding bruises and cuts underneath his robes, he pulled up those walls, a mask of cold arrogance and careless grace carved across his face.

But it was now April, and things had gotten worse. He was late again to potions, forced to wait in the hallway until the full-body curse had worn off, and had to do a double detention. On top of that, the homework hadn’t let up, and he was going to suffocate under the workload, pages and pages worth of essays due, exams to study for and spells to master. It was wearing him out, nights with no sleep and days with no relief, drowning and drowning and drowning.

He rubs his face, hard against his eyes, as he places his quill back on the page. The positioning of Saturn’s rings against the alignment of Uranus’ gravitational pull suggests that...

“Hey.” He looks up, to see Remus slide into the chair next to him. He looks adorable, messy hair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, that soft, sweet grin pulling at his lips. Sirius gives him a tight smile, staring back down at his page. “Hey.”

Remus reaches over, sliding the parchment over. “‘Positioning of the Outer Planets and their Effects on Magic Usage?’” He looks up. “Pads, this is a 28 inch essay! And it’s due tomorrow!”

“I know.” Sirius grabs the paper. “Guess I’ll pull an all nighter. I also have the Mandrake essay to do, plus the charms worksheet.”

Remus shakes his head, waving his wand. A thick stack of notebooks appears on the table, loose papers stacked in between. “Here. I’ll help you. All my notes, plus my essays.” He frowns. “Reword everything, but close enough. I’ll help with the worksheet.”

Sirius nods, pulling Remus into a soft kiss. “Thanks. Holy crap, I love you so much.”

Remus winks. “Doesn’t count when I’m saving your ass.” He grabs the papers, dipping a quill in ink. “Now shut up. I’m trying to think.”

Sirius smiles, bending over his parchment again. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the crackle of the fireplace and Remus’ steady breathing. It was comforting, knowing that Remus was there, that Remus and him were close enough to touch. Sirius pushes the astronomy essay, reaching for the next sheet.

When they are finally finished, the sky outside is gold, streaks of rose and white across it. Remus yawns, depositing a stack of papers into Sirius’ lap. “Here. You’re welcome.”

Sirius smiles, one hand reaching up to tangle in Remus’ hair, against the soft curls and silky strands. “Thanks. So much. I can’t even - “

“It’s fine.” Remus brushes a kiss against Sirius’ lips. “I’ve got your back. You know that, right? Always.”

Sirius nods, still stroking his hair. “I know. God, I know.”

Remus frowns, pulling away enough to look Sirius in the eye. “Hey. Hey, you alright?” He wraps his arms around Sirius, Sirius relaxing into the touch. “This isn’t like you, Sirius. I mean, you’re not the most organized guy in the world, but you’re usually not this bad. What’s up? Are you okay?”

There’s a host of warring emotions inside of Sirius, the guilt fighting against the sorrow. He shakes his head, unconvincingly. “There’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“It’s okay.” Remus places his lips against Sirius’ neck, resting his head on his shoulder. “Look, Pads. You don’t have to tell me. But I know you. I know what you do when you’re hurting, and you’re hurting right now. You hide, shove all your emotions behind a wall, and you deal with all that shit internally, because that’s what you do, Pads. You suffer through it.” He pulls back, brushing Sirius’ hair out of his face. “And you don’t have to tell me. But I’m always here for you.”

The tears are flowing now, against Sirius’ face, wetting Remus’ skin. It hurts, that empty, hollow wound, stinging his soul. He takes a deep breath, feeling Remus’ arms tighten around him, as he says, “I came out to James. On the train here.”

Remus smiles. “That’s great. I mean, he already knows now, so...”

Sirius shakes his head. “No. No, it’s not that.”

Remus frowns. “Did he not take it well? He seems fine now?”

“No, he took it fine, it’s just...” Sirius closes his eyes. “Someone overheard us. Regulus, I mean. And he...told...everyone...”

Sirius glances up, into Remus’ face. It’s stony, anger flaring in his eyes, as he spits, “He did what?”

Sirius bites his lip. “He...he told everyone. All the Slytherins, at least. They all know. And they haven’t...they haven’t taken it well.”

“Oh my...” Remus stands, papers flying everywhere. Rage covers him, pouring off of him, as he swears. “Shit, Pads. Shit.”

“I-I’m so sorry, Re, please I didn’t - “

“Fuck it, Pads. No, not...not you,” he adds, at the panic that coats Sirius. “Just...” He breathes. “Those cuts...they aren’t from Quidditch, are they.”

Sirius shakes his head.

“And those bruises...” Remus paces, around the table, papers underneath his feet. “Shit, Sirius. They’re hexing you, yeah? That’s why you’re late to all these classes and...shit. Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Sirius whispers, so, so quietly. “I’ve got it. I didn’t want to burden you - “

“I will kill them.” Remus is shaking too, agony coating his face. “I will fucking kill them for touching you, how could you bear this alone, Pads?”

Sirius shakes his head. “You do it every full moon, Re. Every goddamn full moon.”

There’s raw pain on Remus’ face, raw pain on Sirius’, two sides of the same coin, as Remus breathes, “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

Sirius just smiles. “I had James. And you.”

He winces, slightly, as Remus takes him into his arms, but all Sirius can do is breathe. Breathe, the sun rising over the mountains, holding each other as the stars disappeared.

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 2

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Lumberjack AU

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader

WC: 1900+

You and Jeremy stare at one another, trying to find familiar footing after disappearing from each other’s lives for 2 years. His smile is the same, beard the familiar close and clean trim as it had always been, and the glint in his eyes still sparkles with the upturn of his lips. And yet he’s somehow broader than you remember, which is saying something, considering his usual build that sees his shoulders going on for miles. The coat only adds, thick and bulky, fur trim sweeping his jawline. But he doesn’t look at you any differently, no accusations or prying questions, none of the hatred you expect and deserve. Standing before you isn’t a man you’ve wronged, but a childhood friend eager for your next adventure. But guilt taints the warm joy you’ve been wearing all day, lower lip pulled between nervous teeth.

Sensing your discomfort, he waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t even think about it.”

“About what?”

“Apologising.” He smiles, expression brimming with forgiveness and a sense of understanding you’ve never been able to fully comprehend. He bustles to your side, brushing your hands from the cart and taking over, pushing it towards Geoff - who isn’t thrilled to see him again. You follow close behind. Drunk on nostalgia. Broken on history.

He throws a curious glance back at you, his joy overwhelming and cheeks a rosy pink. “So what’re you doing in Motbury? The mountains are pretty far from the city.”

You shrug, making a face and a vague hand gesture. “Figured it was time for a change of scenery. Besides, I’ve always liked the mountains.”

“Wait a minute. You’ve been stationed up here, haven’t you?” He’s eager. Eyes wide and he’s practically bouncing. Geoff wills him to stop from behind the counter, fearful of the items spanning the station. Tattooed fingers protect the goods like cages, gaze critical of the small officer. “You have! God, please tell me this means we get to work together again? I could even get you a desk by mine, if you’d like. Because, get this Y/N, there’s this case that’s-”

A cautionary and firm hand stops his excitement, as well as his potential to destroy anything else. Geoff throws you a thankful look, and you return it with a smile. But Jeremy continues to tremble, ready to explode, bubble bursting as soon as you speak. “I’m not with the force anymore.”

His mouth falls open with an audible pop, appalled and yet still somehow managing to stack your groceries on the counter. Geoff has to catch a few to stop them rolling, but does his best to avoid another casualty. “What?!”

“I quit not long after you left.”

“Quit? Y/N,” his tone turns serious, accompanied with the gentle beep of scanned items. You budge Jeremy out of the way, beginning to load up your purchases with more haste and consistency while he continues to gawp. “You’re the best detective I know. Best in the country. How could you give it all up?”

“Was,” you correct with a smile only visible to the milk cartons you unload, “but I appreciate it.”

“You’ve wanted to be a detective ever since you were a kid.”

You hold back the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake, instead chewing the inside of your cheek until blood cleanses the bitterness from your tongue. “I changed my mind.”

He can’t fathom it. Wrestling with empty hands, he tries to force the air into something he can understand. “But what’ve you been doing for 2 years?”

Shrugging, your mood cools with the dipping of the sun, clouds scattered with purples and deep blues. The store hums with the glow of yellowed bulbs, reflecting against the glass windows plastered with advertisements and missing persons posters. “I taught an arts and crafts class for the local primary schools every Tuesday.”

He hesitates in the face of something so uncharacteristically vulnerable, your words heavy in his restless palms. “Y/N, what happened?”

“You know what happened.”

He doesn’t speak immediately, face falling at your sharpness. Still, he finds his voice eventually. “We all have one case that-”

“I’ve moved on,” you interject rather forcefully, shooting him what you hope doesn’t come across as a glare. He drops into silence, shuffling his feet. “I do other things now, J. Creative things that don’t involve me diving too deep into a murder mystery.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t indulge, just a little? It could be inspirational if you really think about it. You’d love this case, Y/N. It’s got your kinda creepy written all over it. You could always-”

“Jeremy, I can’t. Not again.” You consider asking him to pick his pouting bottom lip up off the floor as you swipe your card, feeling his disappointment pool by you feet. Not for your reluctance, but rather for his vain hope of working together again. For his unanswered prayers, because you’re still not okay. You’d be lying if you didn’t wish for one more day like the old ones, and naive if you think it could be as easy as it once was. “But I really appreciate the offer. We can be friends, rather than colleagues. I’ve got some time to make up.”

He nods sullenly, shuffling his feet and glancing outside to scowl at the sound of a car horn blaring. He motions half heartedly to Michael, who’s gesturing rather forcefully to his watch. “Well, what if I introduce you to the townsfolk sometime? I know everyone in Motbury, and all the best spots.”

“I’d like that,” you admit over the exclamation of another impatient honk, pushing Jeremy’s shoulder and urging him to leave. “You’ve still got my number? It hasn’t changed.” He nods shortly, squaring his shoulders and preparing for a goodbye that won’t last nearly as long as the last one. “Good. Get going Inspector, your partner looks pissed.”

“He’s always pissed,” beams Jeremy, taking large bounds towards the door and yelling profanities out of it. He’s about to leave when he stops, taking in a deep breath and turning back to you. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

The sincerity in his eyes hurts, face softened with unimaginable relief. “I’m really happy to see you.”

And then he’s gone, out the door and racing after the patrol car that tries to drive away without him, cackling laughter erupting from the vehicle he eventually manages to clamber into. You watch him go, rooted in place. It is good to see him; to find him at a point in life where he’s got it together and doing far better than you. If he can find a home in this town, pick up the pieces of the life you’d both smashed down, hell, so can you.

“Every time he comes in here something always breaks,” sighs Geoff, resting on his elbows and watching the two officers disappear into the snow. “But he’s a good kid.” Another pass of his hand over his hair, face worn and eyes returning to you. “Probably the best thing that’s ever happened to this town.”

“He’s always been a good detective.”

“By the sounds of it,” Geoff muses, offering you a biscuit from beneath the register, “so were you. I’m not gonna intrude, but I trust that man’s judgement. Whatever happened, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Clearly intending his words to be more of a comfort than an inconvenience, Geoff visibly struggles with your silence. Then his expression brightens. “You said you like working with kids?”

He’s observant, you’ll give him that. Arguably those Tuesday nights covered in glitter glue and paint had kept you going, the children’s joy making your own life a little lighter. A little easier. He must know that, lips quirking as though he’s seen it all before. “I do,” you reply, almost a little too eagerly.

He nods. “It’s a bit sudden I guess, but you seem alright. On Thursday afternoons the local community garden holds arts and crafts for the kids. I help out with my friend, Jack, who runs the project. Sometimes the scrawny fuck that works here joins in, but that’s always up in the air. We’ve been trying to get Mr. policeman to visit - kids love the damn car - but he was too busy today. That’s why he came in and broke everything I own.”

“Are you looking for volunteers?”

He smiles, a big toothy grin that wipes away all instances of age. “Why would I look for any more volunteers when just I’ve found you?”

 ---

 It’s got to be the 5th time you’ve typed out the text to your best friend, different variations all sounding forced. Still, looking at it, it’s the best you’ve got. And nestled in a small alcove, shielded from the snow and warm glow of streetlights, you press send.

Y/N: Moving went well and shopping all done. About to take it home.

You don’t bother putting your phone away, knowing the reply will arrive before you slide the device into your pocket. Instead you pull out a pen, working small curves and sharp lines across a the portion of skin lining the top of your hand just beneath your thumb. With the black ink of a sigil leaking sticky you start to calm, stress leaching away with every repetition of ‘Everything is going to be okay’ that passes through your head. Your eyes drift closes, each breath bringing in the cold, stinging night until you’re drowsy. The reply doesn’t surprise you, but it drags your eyes open.

Lauren: Congrats!! How’s the new place?

Y/N: Bigger than I thought it would be. Lots of room. It’s gonna be a busy few days. Can’t find most of my herbs or spell books.

Lauren: Once the guys get there you’ll be able to take a break.

Lauren: Trevor says your herbs are in the box labeled kitchen junk. Same with your smudge sticks. Dunno about the spell books though. Have you tried things labelled storage?

Y/N: Doubt it haha. And thanks, I’ll look when I get home. How’s the prep work for them going?

Lauren: Dunno about Alfredo, but Trevor’s suitcase is done.

Lauren: I had to pack it.

Lauren: you should’ve seen it, Y/N. He’s a disgrace.

Y/N: He’s lucky to have you.

Lauren: You bet your ass he is.

Lauren: Stop stalling and go home. Soon as you’re done with the groceries you can pass out.

Y/N: God that sounds nice. It’s been a day.

Lauren: Did something else happen?

Lauren: Y/N?

Lauren: You okay?

Y/N: Yeah. Ran into Jeremy.

Lauren: JEREMY? As in, Jeremy from ex work Jeremy?

Y/N: Yup.

Lauren: Are you ok though?

Y/N: Yeah, I’m okay. He seems happy here, which is nice.

Lauren: I’m glad. That whole situation was fucked up

Y/N: You’re telling me

Lauren: You okay?

Lauren: Bad memories?

Y/N: More hopeful than anything. If he can get past that case, so can I.

Lauren: It wasn’t as hard for him though. He didn’t feel it.

Lauren: You wanna talk about her?

Y/N: Not at all. I’ve gotta get these groceries home. I’ve been sat in this snowbank for the past 20 minutes working on a sigil. I want to get some charms set up tonight as well.

Lauren: Good luck dude.

Lauren: Keep me updated on moving.

Lauren: And any hot guys.

Lauren: Mostly the hot guys though.

Lauren: But your mental state too, I guess.

 ---

 The trip back takes far longer. Weighed down with bags and the surprises of the day. You trudge through the snow now that the sun’s settled. Darkness greets you on the doorstep, orange lights singing from the lanterns that cling to the dark wooden beams. Numb hands wrestle the key into the lock, a vicious chill tearing your scarf away. Shouldering in, you heave the groceries to the floor, letting tins scatter and produce roll. Exhausted, begging to fall to your knees and let the draining day finally take you, you turn back to the garden.

No longer does the sun share it’s light, moon dusting generous servings of silver across the landscape. A right foot forward and you’re descending the steps, body dunked in the night’s cold embrace. No birds sing, and the gentle creaking of trees is all that fills the silence. If you focus, you swear you can hear the snow fall. Another step and you’re sitting on damp, freezing wood, staring at the property line. Nothingness stares back. Barren and empty. Lonely, with no one to wave to the branches swaying for attention. Not even an animal to dance between the trunks, no confident tails or pricked ears. Only a world letting out tired breaths, seconds buried in the white grace falling lazily from the sky.

And you smile, stand, and retrieve your scarf before closing the door. 

[ramblinganthropologist]

MER Week Days 3 and 6

Prompts: Midnight Rendezvous and Break my Heart

Eh heh heh... I’ve been wanting to do this one for a while. >:3c

Summary: What’s left behind when Commander Shepard dies? Not a lot for Bo to hold onto. It’s hardest at night, and it’s not easier with what remains. But sometimes it helps. Setting: Between 1 and 2.

---

-June 23, 2183-

Bo wasn't sure what she hated more: the sound of military music or her formal uniform.

Both were grating on her nerves as she sat there in a green field covered in headstones. Most of them were small. After all, in that day and age they rarely got a whole body back. At best, ashes were buried there under the names and dates. Sometimes... well, the less said about the larger plots the better.

For her, there was nothing left.

She clenched her fist tight as she stared down at the small plot of ground that had been marked out for the Citadel's savior. In plain dates, “Commander Alistair Michael Shepard, 2156-2183” was spelled out in heavy black letters. Nothing but the basic facts about the man who was anything but, even if she had said otherwise.

“Fuck.”

The ceremony had been over for a while now. People had tried to give her sympathy but it had bounced off her like bullets off her armor. Bo had just stood there, staring at the ground. Maybe she was numb, maybe she was pissed. It wasn't every day she got to watch her best friend memorialized.

The priest was an asshole; Al wasn't Catholic anyway.

“Excuse me, Commander Shepard?”

For a brief second, Bo didn't move. After all, someone that polite would have been for Alistair. It took her a second to remember that he wasn't at her fucking side where he was supposed to be, fielding comments for her. Her buffer was gone now, and she had to face it alone. So, she turned to face them, not really looking.

They had a box in their hands and an Alliance uniform on their back. She didn't really notice the rank or the face. Details like that didn't really matter lately – someone would probably say that was depression. Honestly, she was just tired. Some asshole with a degree would probably say that was depression too.

“Yeah?”

They didn't shrink back from the bite to her voice. She had to give them that. “We recovered this from the crash. As next of kin, it's yours.”

They handed the box over without another word. “All we found was some armor and his pistol. I'm sorry we couldn't give you more.”

And then they left Bo alone with the little box that held the one possession Alistair loved almost as much as his hamster. She would have laughed, but it just wouldn't come out. Instead, she just stared at it, frowning. Then she gave the box a shake – too much rattled around for it to be in one piece. Given the Normandy had blown up, that was to be expected.

Disappointing... he had always liked that damn little gun. Even when there were better models, ones that maybe accounted for his shitty aiming, it was at his side like a little red nightmare. Dead eye, dumb gun. That had been her brother.

And now it was all she had left.

“Fuck.”

That was all Bo could get out as she turned to walk away from the empty grave, broken gun in hand. What else could she say? It wouldn't bring Alistair back if she suddenly developed his ability to speak to people, nor would it make her feel any better. All she could do was just keep walking and hope she figured out the rest later.

Stupid Alistair... he had to get himself blown up for his own damn pilot.

-December 11, 2183-

Explosions were what shot Bo out of bed that morning.

None of them were real – she would have been moving faster if they had been. But she heard them all the same and saw the Normandy exploding before her very eyes as she sat there on the edge of her bed, sweat pouring down her face and her chest heaving from the effort. It took every  effort to remember she wasn't in space, and the only thing that was threatening to explode was her heart. Even after a few seconds of staring around the dark room, it didn't calm down.

So it was going to be one of those nights, huh?

“What fucking time is it?”

Somewhere off to the side, her computer glowed. “The current time is 02:30.”

The pleasant voice that came from the speakers had a thick Irish accent that hadn't been reproduced well. Where vowels and consonants came together, the awkward electronics showed themselves. It wasn't a person.

It wasn't Alistair.

Bo took a deep breath as she looked over at the computer again. Even in the darkness, she could see the little hologram standing there, projected by her screen. The voice had come from a VI she had picked up her last time at the Citadel. The man selling it had cowered and given her a deeply discounted rate. He should have – the damn thing was broken half the time.

She sat down at her desk, not really looking at the little projection of her brother in his fatigues. He hated wearing those – something about them never fitting right in the legs and causing him to trip if he didn't roll them up right. It had been his curse of being so damn short.

“Anything good?”

The Shepard VI was as cheery as always. “You have 74 unread messages and one missed vid call from Admiral Anderson.”

Bo rolled her eyes as she briefly scrolled down. Nothing she gave a fuck about. “Delete them and remind me to call Anderson later.”

“Can do.” Then the VI switched to its deletion message. “I get rid of you on the way to real problems.”

She had to laugh, but it was like there was broken glass in her throat. It was her words in Alistair's dumb accent like some fucked up fusion nightmare. The real one would have never said anything like that. Hell, he probably would've offered to fix his own damn VI if he were around to see just how buggy it was.

Something about that was so wrong it had to make her laugh, but damn if it didn't hurt when she did it.

“Those volus patching you need to get off their asses and fix the personality. Did they get us mixed up again?”

Pleasant Alistair VI was back. “Sending a note to the development team. Thanks for your feedback, you make the galaxy safer.”

Nerdy; that was closer. Bo shook her head as she looked at her empty inbox and the pending call. Part of her – she swore it had an accent – was telling her to pick up her omni-tool and give Anderson a call. Then it was telling her to put on pants and go do something outside. All were sensible, yet horrible ideas and she didn't want  to do any of them.

“Fuck I don't even know.”

Her leave was almost over, and then it was back to who even fucking knew. The Hong Kong wasn't around to take her back – even if they had loved her. Like the Normandy it was smashed to a thousand pieces and just as useful. Maybe the Council would want her to do something. Those fuckers owed her one after all.

A couple ones, but she would settle for one. Just... something. Anything.

Something wet trickled down her face – maybe the ceiling had finally sprung a leak due to her dumb ass neighbors upstairs. Bo didn't investigate it. She just kept staring at the damn VI, half hoping that it would do something other than read her messages for her. But it just stood there, waiting for her to give it a task to complete.

And the ones she needed it couldn't do. She had learned the hard way that a VI couldn't hug for shit.

“Maybe I should go back to bed.”

Her bones creaked as she started back over towards her unmade bed. Sometime during the struggle, her pillow had wound up on the floor. Grumbling, she bent to pick it up. That was when she felt it in her lower back – a dull pain throbbed to life.

“Fuck!”

She slapped her hand over it just as a similar burning ache stabbed its way through her lower leg. Bo fell back on the bed, half expecting gunfire. When she pulled her hand away there was nothing there, though. She wasn't bleeding – shit just fucking hurt.

“Are you ok, Commander Shepard? Do you require medical attention?”

Now that was fucking Al. Maybe the volus were finally on to something.

Bo blinked back surprise as she looked down to the source of pain on her leg. It wasn't anywhere she had been injured before as far as she could remember. Instead, it was centralized around a band of pinks and reds inked into her skin. Even in the dark, her fingers found her way to the tattoo and rubbed against it.

“Commander Shepard?”

Another throb, this time from her lower back and right where another tattoo was. Bo's eyes went higher than the VI, to a shelf she hadn't touched since she had installed it. On it rested a dusty box, marked down “personal effects” in ink that hadn't started to fade.

“Can't be.” but it was hurting right where her N7 tattoo was inked into her skin, as bad as it had when she had first gotten it with Alistair on the Citadel. He had had a matching one inked in the same spot on his own skin, though he had complained about it the entire time it was healing. For a medic, it was almost funny.

It had always hurt when either of them were about to do something stupid.

A strange smile crossed her face as she managed to get back into bed. “See if there are any available shuttles out of here in the morning.”

“Can do, Commander. Remember to get at least 8 hours of sleep a night for optimum efficiency.”

Hopefully, someone else was hurting as much as she was, because Bo wasn't going to be getting any sleep that night. But as a plan formed in her head, she couldn't say she minded much at all.

-April 11, 2184-

“You have two missed vid calls from ID “Bonecrusher” and “Demonslinger” and three unread messages from the Alliance.”

“Tell them they can suck it I'm busy.”

The bruises from last night's fight were still healing and it hurt to move. Bo really should have been resting or at the very least swimming in medigel. Instead, she was at her desk pouring over a bunch of dumb, stupid pieces.

In front of her, oh so careful dissembled, was a pistol. Half the pieces were new, bought or fought for during her time on Omega. The rest, the more beat up looking ones, were the originals she was trying to build around.

It didn't help Alistair never fucking cleaned his guns right. Fuckin' southpaws.

“I have informed them you are busy.” VI Alistair popped up in front of her. “Do you require assistance?”

Bo scowled as she held a piece up to the light – this was a new one, to help fit in the clips the pistol was being modified to use. “Pull up the Stinger maintenance manual again. I think I got this damn thing on backwards.”

The diagrams popped up large enough for her to read without her glasses on – yep, the damn thing was backwards AND upside down on top of it. She scowled and turned it right side up, then clicked it back into place. That sound was becoming oddly therapeutic in a way only knocking Krogan skulls in had been as of late.

They had always said she had laser focus back in school. Once again, she was proving them right.

Alistair VI glowed for a second as she continued to work. “Update: the part you ordered has come in. You can pick it up in the morning.”

“Great, make sure that asshole isn't trying to short change me again.” Bo grabbed her glasses from her forehead and pushed them down onto her face in order to inspect the next part. “Otherwise they're going to be my 13th win in the ring next week.”

The little VI of her brother flashed for a second – there were those damn bugs again. “Confirmed. Your message has been sent. Do you need anything else?”

“I need the full diagram for the Stinger firing system again. Damn thing looks like it needs another part.”

Maybe at this point it would've been easier to just get another a fucking gun. It wasn't like the Stinger pistol was particularly hard to find. Maybe a little rare on Omega, but that was more personal preference than scarcity. The mercs there liked flashier models that had a shotgun's kick to them. She could appreciate a good shotgun as much as the next person, but it wasn't her taste in consideration.

Besides, it was a pain in the ass to modify any fucking gun to be left handed. Why couldn't her dumb brother learn to shoot right handed like a normal person?

Alistair VI worked quietly, but he talked while he did it. “Searching. The Stinger pistol is a favorite of mine.”

“I know it is, that's why I'm fixing it.” She held a piece up to the light and then slid it in. “You're going to need a working gun when I find you.”

Maybe it was wishful thinking or maladaptive coping or just plain denial, but tattoos didn't lie. Hers especially didn't. Somewhere, she knew deep down in her gut that the dumb ass who owned the gun she was working on was going to want it back. And hell, she was more than ready to give it to him and then some.

The VI flashed its error message. “Request misunderstood. Could you please repeat?”

“Ah, forget it.” Bo reached for another tiny tool in order to work on the grip. “Play my workout music, 60% volume.”

Loud, high energy music began to pour into her apartment as Bo lost herself in the work. If she was lucky, she'd finish her modification on the Stinger's grip before she had to square off in the ring again. If not... well, as long as they didn't break her arm she'd be good to go.

And hopefully, it would be good to go with her modifications when she saw Alistair again. With any luck, that asshole would appreciate having a gun that shot a little steadier the next time she saw him. That would be after she kicked his ass for dying, of course.

After all, that was just rude. Who went off as a big, stupid hero without saying when they would be back?

[tigerrobot]

Best days of our lives?

We were born only a day apart. Our mothers were at the same hospital at the same time. She was, apparently, a difficult labour while I was out in just over 6 hours. We first met at a playground when we were 2 and have been nearly inseparable since.

Amelia. My best friend. My sister. My backup, my bodyguard, my therapist, my confidant. Without her, I couldn't do what I do.

When I started down this path I tried to go it alone believing, like so many others, that letting someone in put them at risk. And, like those solitary heroes, I learned the hard way that we all need help.

The funny part was, I didn't need her to protect me from the monsters of the night. Those I could deal with on my own, magic did most of the work for me. Nah, sometimes the real monsters were other people.

"Hey, freak!" The boys laughed and ran down the hall, jostling with each other and acting like they just came up with the greatest insult to ever be heard. As a 17 year old decked out in tattoos, you became hardened quickly.

"Real mature, jerk-offs." Amelia scoffed at them and shook her head before turning back to me. "Seriously, they think they are clever or something? They could at least make fun of your silly hair." She playfully nudged me and smiled. She was the one who shaved my head for my side-cut.

"Right? Oh, you know, I haven't been asked what biker gang I'm part of recently. They could have used that one even." I rolled my eyes and smirked sideways at Amelia and continued to class.

3rd period came right after lunch. Amelia had chemistry and I was off to art. It was one of my favourite subjects because Mrs. Avery was one of the only teachers in the school who made me feel like I was normal. Of course, she thought my tattoos were just a form of self-expression rather than a weapon and a shield for the sake of humanity, but, hey, it was better than most people gave me. And it helped that I was good at art.

As we got to the intersection that would separate us for the next hour and a half, Amelia grabbed my hand and gave a slight squeeze. "Have fun! See you in P.E.!"

"Yep. Hey, don't go blowing anything up without me. I don't think the school could afford -another- chemistry lab." We both laughed and parted ways.

Last year, I caught a vampire squatting in the school. I'm typically non-violent unless I have to be and this vamp didn't give me that option. A story for another time but a scuffle ensued and the school suddenly had to make an insurance claim for a gas leak that led to the old chem. lab exploding. Oops.

I had been seriously drawing since I was 12. Every tattoo I had, I had drawn for the artists to ink. So I was used to making clean lines, transitioning into less functional art had been easy. In grade 9 we had learned the fundamentals and Mrs. Avery was so impressed with how quickly I picked it up, she insisted I keep taking her class. Apparently it had paid off because she had got in touch with a colleague of hers from a university in New York that wanted to meet me. While university was still another 7 months away, I guess it was important to think about this stuff ahead of time. And New York did sound exciting.

Art class was pretty uneventful. Perspective, use of colour, shading. During the ample down time a defender of the night who was also a teenager had, I would draw as my escape from everything else. And I was a notorious researcher, so most of what we learned in class, I had already been playing with on my own. A couple of the other kids, who considered themselves artfully gifted, always gave me sidelong glances, like they were trying to measure themselves against me. That was something I was never interested in. How well someone else did something had no baring on how well I did it, nor would it make what I was doing any less important to me. It wouldn't have been so bad had any of them taken the time to talk to me. I would have been more than happy to chat about technique with someone else who wasn't Mrs. Avery.

Phys. Ed. was another story though. Since I didn't look like the other girls, the change room was frightening place and I spent as little time there as possible. Amelia did her best to casually shield me and, so long as she was there, most of the other girls left me alone. Amelia was popular, traditionally pretty, and a complete bad-ass if you got on her 'bad' side. Hell, she made me look like a bunny rabbit when she got mad. High school would have been a literal Hell if it wasn't for her.

Unfortunately, she couldn't protect me all the time. Today she had to stay late in chem. class to talk to Mr. Forscyth about her paper. He was a good guy, a good teacher, but Amelia was nearly above his ability to teach. She absorbed S.T.E.M. information the way I absorbed the occult. She had been working on recreating a simple paper-based test to find your blood type and was showing him the research papers she had been following so that he could get a better understanding of what she was doing. THAT was thinking about university.

The other girls saw me walk in and waited a few moments to see if Amelia followed behind. When they didn't a sinister gleam came to their eyes and they descended.

"Hey Penelope! We never get a chance to chat without Amelia around. It's really a shame, you seem like you'd be really fun to hang out with." One of them said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"Oh, yeah, all those tattoos. It's really cool how you don't care what you look like. Those torn jeans and that old, beat-up leather jacket create such an air of mystique about you." Another remarked, barely containing her sarcasm.

"You should TOTALLY come to my party this weekend!" A third exclaimed, excitedly turning to her friends.

The fourth member of the group snickered, the first of them to break the act, as she said "Sure, but aren't we all a little old to be getting a clown for the party?" And they all started laughing. But, unlike on TV, they didn't disperse. And I knew they wouldn't. Without Amelia around, they could finally get out all of the hatred that they'd had to hold inside.

They had formed a semi-circle around me, my back basically against a wall. I'd have to physically push past them to get away. I shook my head at their attempts to anger me. It wasn't that I was zen or anything like that. People like this group had always been around, always looking to tear me down for whatever reason. And it wasn't that it didn't effect me. I could act like the stoic hero, act like nothing ever phased me and just roll with the punches, but nobody is that dead inside, not even some of the zombies I've squared off against.

"Oh, look, she's trying to be stoic! It's adorable! Come on, freakshow, just admit you don't belong here, run along home, and stop infecting our change room with your presence." Ah, the leader, standing up and being strong with her posse at her back. My hands balled into fists and I could feel the desire to channel a spell into them. How easy it would be to stop this forever, release a blast of energy into her chest and launch her across the room. Or whisper a word and turn them against each other. But magic wasn't to be used against non-magic folks. Even if some of them were worse than half the monsters I had to deal with.

"Good one. I really loved that bit about me not belonging here. I guess to belong at this school I need to have my parents pay off the teachers?" A rumor had been spread about the lead girl falling a class or two last year but her parents really wanted to take her on a trip to Sweden in the summer, and so taking classes just wouldn't do. A donation was made to the school and that little problem went away. By the way she reacted, either it wasn't just a rumor or she had gotten really sick of hearing it. She reached out and shoved me, causing me to fall back, my shoulder striking the wall behind me.

"You know what? We were wrong, you aren't a clown, you aren't even funny. You are just a waste of skin, but looking at it, it wasn't skin anyone else would have wanted anyway. You should feel blessed that I even bother to acknowledge your existence, goblin." And one of her lackey's grabbed my gym bag. I reached out to contest it but was again pushed against the wall.

"We'll do you a favour. You may be filth, but at least your clothes can be clean." The one who grabbed my bag walked into the showers and turned one on, leaving my bag sitting right under it. They all started cackling but stopped abruptly as Amelia walked in.

She saw them, cornering me, and I saw her eyes going through a quick assessment. My bag missing. I watched as her eyes hardened and he stalked forward.

"April, how convenient I got to run into you. Mrs. Ricter says that if you expect to graduate next semester, it's going to cost a lot more than last summer did at this rate. Teresa, I heard from Tommy that you have until tomorrow to return that dress you stole from the mall or they will be calling the cops, the agreement your parents worked out be damned." She looked at the 3rd girl with a look of pure digust but said nothing. Then her eyes fell on the fourth, the one who had just come out of the showers where she could now see my gym bag sitting on the floor.

I swear, she didn't even breath as she walk toward her. The girl started backing away, ending up in the showers herself. Amelia continued to stalk toward her and, while I couldn't see her face now, I imagined smoke billowing from her nostrils like a big momma dragon. The girl backed into a stall and Amelia reached out. The girl made herself smaller, shirking away from Amelia's hand. Amelia simply turned on the water and walked away.

On her way out she grabbed my bag and came back to me. While she was cornering their friend in the showers, the other 3 had left, barely able to maintain their composure and stop themselves from running from her.

"Come on. I'll tell Mrs. Frank that we have some work for yearbook that you are helping me with and we'll get out of here. You okay?" Amelia looked at me, worry in her eyes. I didn't want her to see it but a pair of tears rolled down my cheeks. More out of happiness that I had a friend like her than at anything those harpies had spat at me but I couldn't deny what they said had hurt.

She did as she said and Mrs. Frank didn't even question it. We walked out to her car, she tossed my wet bag into the trunk, not caring that it might get the carpeting back there soaked, and we headed to her place. Her parents wouldn't be home for another hour or so, and we could just veg out, watch some Steven Universe, eat way too much junk food, and completely ruin our appetites for dinner.

I love my best friend.

[ediblenapkin-moved]

That's the Thing About Dreams- Chapter 5

A/N: CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 2-

So hey! I’m back, and it’s time for cHAPTER MOTHERFIPPITY 2-

Anyways. This is gonna be either fun, or a complete and utter pain in the neck to write (my bet’s on the latter…). Who knows, though? (Future me. that’s who. future me what’s your status) (future iteration 1- i am not doing well. i am having small difficulties. oh my i did not spell that right what is wrong with me what time is it) (translation: it is 10:26 PM, i am covered in mosquito bites and this story is a pain.) (future iteration 2- i took a break. it’s a whole new day… and I’m ending the chapter. why? because me, that’s why. chapter 2’s gonna be in at least 3 separate pieces… and chapter 3???? hahahaha yeah that’s gonna be in at least 3 too. at least. i’m not even gonna try for ch4. not yet.)

Edit: I thought this chapter was gone today. So far, I’ve been writing all these little shits offline, google docs, you know? Well, today I got online- and when it went to sync my offline changes… three of eight documents I’d created/edited offline had vanished. Ofc, this scared me to no end- these things weren’t fun to figure out, in terms of all the little pieces and bits- and I was flipping out. I thought I was going to have to rewrite at least three different stories.

Thankfully, I waited a little bit and they reappeared. Which is good. But that was terrifying…

But now I'm on mobile. I just gotta mess with the formatting every damn time I go to post... I don't know if it's better or worse this way.

Enjoy.

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The first thing Joey was aware of was that his head was pounding.

“What hit me…?” He groaned, slowly pushing himself up. Once he was standing, he put a hand to his head. The throbbing was going away, but not fast enough.

He shut his eyes, waiting for it to go away. It didn’t, but it became manageable.

He finally reopened his eyes, looking around the small room- and quickly stepping out of the pentagram. It hurt to look at for some reason- the pulse in his head got worse even thinking about it.

He found himself picking up the axe, which, oddly enough, was now leaning against one of the coffins… and he knew he hadn’t left it there as he’d passed out. Which meant someone had been here and they moved his axe… but was that all they did?

Joey sighed. It wasn’t helping anyone to ask all these questions that- at the moment at least- had no answers. With that in mind, he looked towards the closed door in front of him.

Guess I’ve got no choice now… I’ve got to keep moving. Keep moving forward…

He chopped the boards off the next door and started walking.

Another stairwell. This one proudly displayed a little sign that read UTILITY SHAFT 9. As he walked down, a board collapsed and fell from the ceiling- nearly causing Joey to slip and fall down the stairs. Thankfully, he caught himself.

As soon as he reached the bottom step, he looked up- and another line greeted him- HE WILL SET US FREE- scrawled next to a smaller version of the cutouts that were everywhere. The little shelf was filled with candles, and cans of bacon soup, some closed, some open and poured in bowls. A banjo was leaning next to the shelf, slightly dusty.

He walked further in, noting that most of the shelves were in a similar state to the first- except one had another cassette tape. He clicked play.

“He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me. The figure of ink that shines in the darkness. I see you, my savior. I pray that you hear me. Those old songs, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me. And I will be swept into your final loving embrace. But, love requires sacrifice. Can I get an amen?”

The tape clicked off, and Joey frowned. He made to step back-

“I said, can I get an amen?”

He spun around- and stopped.

Sammy Lawrence- his voice- it had just been here, right behind him. Joey was sure of it- he was here. Somewhere.

After a minute of silence, Joey took a deep breath and kept going. He’d never in his life heard the songwriter like that- and it was genuinely creepy. It was wrong, it was too calm, it was too… off.

By nature, he tended to be loud, impatient, and was easily distracted at times. He was also an amazing composer- the studio’s only composer. With him around, there was no need for another. Sammy worked best alone, but made an exception for the lyricist- who, at first, he’d shown no mercy to. But eventually something had happened- and they were able to be in the same room and actually talk to each other.

Joey reached the next hallway- and stopped. It was flooded with ink. Knee high at least, and it looked positively repulsive. After taking a moment to sigh- his shoes and socks had finally been dry when he’d woken up- he stepped in and began wading to the other side.

And then, halfway down the hall, he heard muttering. Whispering- and then a dark figure clad in white overalls appeared, walking past the doorway- carrying a Bendy cutout under its arm.

The voice, while quiet- was unmistakable.

“Lawrence? Lawrence! What the hell-” He pulled himself through the rest of the hall as fast as he could, nearly jumping out of the ink to turn the corner the songwriter had vanished around-

Only to see a dead end… and the Bendy cutout sitting in front of a pentagram scratched on the wall.

Joey looked around, noting the trail of ink- but where the hell had he gone?

The voice in his head whispered, It’s got something to do with this ink. It’s everywhere, and that’s unnatural… ‘Who needs that much ink anyways?’ Something is really off with all this.

It’s not right…

He turned around, noticing a closed metal gate- much like the ones that had penned him in upstairs- and a panel next to it, featuring three blinking lights.

Seems like the gate needed power.

He found himself searching for the three different switches- two of them were back down the flooded hall, and after coming back through it for the third time he sat down, took off his shoes, then wrung out his socks. It was a pointless move- there was ink everywhere, and it was more than likely he was gonna be covered in it at some point, and more than just knee high or waist high- probably neck high or above head.

He slipped his slightly less soaked socks back on, then his shoes. He stood and walked over to the switchboard- all three lights were on. He threw the switch.

With a rumble and a lot of groaning, the metal gate slowly lifted- and just as it clicked into place, a low moan sounded- followed by the sound of a light flicking on.

Joey walked closer to the boarded up doorway- seriously, what was up with all these boarded up areas- and listened, but there was nothing else. Quickly, he hacked his way through the wood, and walked in.

The music department kind of looked like shit at the moment.

Ink puddles scattered everywhere, only a few candles- god it was dark- and most of the lights were off. Looking around, Joey sighed before noticing the tape next to the sign- in the dark, it was hard to see, but this tape was labelled- Lawrence. He turned it on.

“So first this Ink Machine is installed over our heads. Then it begins to leak. Three times last month we couldn’t even get out of our department because the ink kept flooding the stairwell. The solution? An ink pump to drain it periodically. Now I have this ugly pump switch right in my office. People in and out all day. Just what I needed. More distractions. These stupid cartoon songs don’t write themselves, you know.”

Now that sounded like Sammy…. the stairwell, right. Turning around, Joey walked to the stairs- and what do you know? It was flooded. The main power switch sat on the wall to the right, though- thankfully. He threw the switch, hearing the clicking of lights turning on- then wincing as the room suddenly filled with harsh light.

And then, the sound of ink dripping filled the room.

He turned, and walked back into the main room-

And a glob of ink dropped from the ceiling, forming into a humanoid shape.

Almost instantly, it swiped at Joey, who raised the axe and swung back.

Only one of them made their mark.

The body- he assumed- melted, and returned to a regular puddle of ink.

And then there were more.

Before he got time to think, he was fighting the inky creatures as best he could- he wasn’t a perfect aim with the axe- but eventually the last one took a hit and vanished, leaving Joey, panting, alone in the room as music began to play- and as a metal gate began to open.

And, finally, he got a chance to think, and a chill ran down his back.

Those things… weren’t right.

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A/N: jesus fuckin shit this is gonna be hard

i just rewatched someone play through it… fuck. I THOUGHT I WAS DONE SHORTCUTTING CRAP-

Nope. Apparently not. Sorry, suckers, but we’re shortcutting the hell out of this chapter… and Chapter 3. Saying it now so you don’t wonder, because no way in hell am I writing out that entire fucking annoying ass errand list. The Angel can go suck a lemon.

(Am I reading too many fics these days…? I’m actually not swearing as much as I usually do. wow. thanks for the influence, fics.)

I can already tell this fic, if it gets finished porplery, (porperly????? pfft), will be about 8 chapters minimum. so yeah. probably around 12 or 14…. excluding bullshit…

Is it crazy that I’m already looking forward to transcribing Chapter 3? Yes? No? Maybe, so? (hahahahhahahahahahahahahahahaahahah sorry)

next up: cutouts. why.

[dxrksong]

A strange crossover chapter 2

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!

also happy new  years!!!

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 After talking with each other the other, ‘Henry’ INSISTED on Henry staying at his house. He couldn’t fathom why, the only thing they shared as far as he could tell was the oddly coincidental name. It was odd though, if Henry didn’t know any better he’d say that the bad feeling was coming from the other Henry. That thought alone made him weary of the strangely kind man? Kid? Who exactly was he? He sounded young, but at the same time knowledgeable. Like he’s lived longer than most humans. He shivered, unknowing of what next, but he did know one thing: he needed to get back to the toons as soon as possible.     

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Henry had invited the ‘other’ Henry to stay at his house for a while. Annette was there too, but just to check up on ‘her’ Henry. She brought over a box of cupcakes, since the Henry she knew was obsessed with anything sweet.

“So.. This is kind of awkward right? I mean there's two of you! I mean you don't look alike but it's still weird, I mean what are the chances?!”

Annette realized she was rambling so she just stopped talking entirely, feeling embarrassed.

“Nah it's fine, I mean I agree with you; but it's fine! I just hope the other Henry likes cupcakes! If he doesn't, just give them to me.” He whispered the last part, sending them both into a fit of laughter.

“Where is the other guy anyway?” Annette looked around, the house looked as normal as ever. Not a single sign of another presence.

“Oh the other Henry is in one of the guest rooms, or at least I think he is.. I haven't heard a single sound from upstairs. Maybe he’s sleeping. Heh, more cupcakes for me!” Annette laughed again.

“Henry I seriously think you need help for your sugar addiction!” They both laughed again sharing the cupcakes. Annette couldn't let him have all of them! After all she didn't want him to get sick from all that sugar.

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Meanwhile on the roof --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Henry stood at the edge of the roof, feeling the cool breeze on his skin while it whisked past him. He wasn’t entirely sure how or why he was up there but he was concentrating on something nonetheless.

 What was it? Ah yes, his location! Of course! But how was he going to do that? A tug in his mind told him to climb higher. But he was sure he was on the tallest building nearby. But it was still there, tugging at something behind him. He turned and soon found a ladder. ‘Huh, convenient’ he thought as he started to climb.

  At the top he found out that his hearing had increased by a lot. He listened intently like the tug in his mind told him to. Personal stuff, angry customer, a woman asking for directions, an angry driver- wait! A women asking for directions? He tried to zone in on the conversation.

  “Excuse me, but can you help me get to (insert important city nearby the studio’s neighboring one)?” the women she was talking to let out a small gasp. “Oh my dear! That’s on the other side of the state! How did you get this far off track?!”

  Henry stop listening entirely after that. “Halfway across the state…” he mumbled to himself. He suddenly felt light headed and started to waver “I’m halfway across the state.” but that was IMPOSSIBLE unless….he had definitely been gone from the studio longer than a day. OH GOD HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN?! Henry started to panic and put his hands on his head, before he suddenly lost consciousness and fell backwards, unaware that people were shouting at him and that ‘Henry’ and Annette were right below him, trying to talk him down.

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Henry woke up with a start, sweat practically flowing off his head as he shot up in a storm of panic and sorrow. Where was he? It looks like a bedroom of sorts but- wait...LOOKS?!

He looked down at his hands before a wave of pain washed over his eyes and spreaded throughout his face and he let out a howl of agony as he quickly closed his eyes and put his face in his hands and continued to whimper as the waves started to hurt less when he heard footsteps rush up the stairs.

  He could already tell who it was before ‘Henry’ practically broke the door down and rushed to his side.

“Hey I heard screaming are you alright?” ‘Henry’ saw that the other Henry looked to be in an enormous amount of pain.

“Oh yeah, just great- DO YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?!” Henry said lifting his face and ripping off his bandages revealing the black veins covering the top of his face and the inky substance coming out of his eyes.

“Hey there's no need to yell! I’m only trying to help you-” ‘Henry’ paused, when he noticed the ink leaking from the man’s eyes. It was absolutely disturbing, making him want to scream.

“Oh my god! What the heck happened to your eyes?! I mean the doctor said it was bad, but I wasn't expecting this!”

“Heh, well it helps when ink is practically infused into your bloodstream. I still don’t know when but I think it was removable until I collapsed the first time- IN A FUCKING SUMMONING CIRCLE DRAWN BY SOMEONE WHO WILL NOT BE NAMED!!!”

“Okay first of all! There’s no swearing in this house! Secondly, I literally gave you a place to stay for a bit. The least you can do is thank me.”

“Your right, I’m sorry. And thank you. I’m just a little on edge since one, I can't remember how i managed to get half-way across the ENTIRE state from where I was! And two I’M HALF-WAY ACROSS THE STATE!!!!!!” This was totally a good time to freak out right now.

“Um… I hate to break it to you.. but you’re not half-way across the state. This is the province of British Columbia. You’re in Canada..”

“.........SO I’M EVEN FURTHER THAN I THOUGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!” He leaned on his side and is now crying, completely freaking out.

“How am I supposed to get to the toons now?” he whispered to himself.

“Okay.. I don't mean to be making assumptions, but if you have the same name as me. First and last! You have ink coming from your eyes and you spoke about toons.. does this mean, that you’re not from this dimension..? Because I can't see any other reason for this, it's the only thing that would make sense..”

Henry pondered this for a minute. This was true but if he was here and the other one was too does that would mean.. he slowly got up,hope blooming in his chest. He suddenly grabbed the other Henry’s shoulders.

“Hey! If that’s true then there’s a Silly Vision studio near here right?”

“Uh.. yeah, it's pretty close actually.. why are you asking?”

“Let’s just say. I made a promise to someone.”

“So PLEASE! Tell me where it is! I need to get there as soon as possible! It would be a bloodbath and a mess I don’t want to deal with if bendy lets those searchers loose after me.”

“Well.. Annette and I were planning on going, so I guess you could come too.. but is Bendy really real in your world? I didn't get very far the first time I re-visited. I left after I activated the ink machine, the door was oddly unlocked.”

“...Of course Bendy’s real! What do you take me for? A blind idiot?” Henry jokingly said, smiling and letting go of his doppleganger’s (in terms of names) shoulders.

“No, I don't think you’re an idiot! I did see that corpse of Boris.. but that's all I really saw, besides the creepy moving cutouts and some ink splattered here and there.”

“Just be glad the place didn’t start flooding as soon as the machine was turned on, I almost drowned in that stuff, it went up to my freakin neck!”

“Oh yeah! Well once I got this weird letter at my door, and I opened it; and ink exploded everywhere! There was this monster it nearly mauled me to death!”

“Sounds like a searcher, and you wouldn’t believe how MANY there were in the lower levels!”

“A S-Searcher? Hmm.. so that's what that thing was.. it actually gave me ink poisoning when it cut me. The doctors couldn't remove it for some reason, but I've been feeling pretty okay so.. I think I'll be alright.”

“The weird thing though.. is that I can't remember what happened too well.. It's like one minute it's trying to tear me to shreds, then the next I'm lying on a hospital bed. Annette was there with me..”

“.. i’ll probably ask her ‘bout that later, but for now.. Who’s that kid that’s been staring something fierce into my back for the past few minutes through the window now?” Henry pointed behind him where the bad feeling was kicking up something fierce.

‘Henry’ rushed to the window to see a little boy looking up at them. He waved to him. “Oh hey Vinny, I think you probably shouldn't be here Annette’s just going to get mad at you!”

“I don’t think he cares” he whispered.

‘Henry’ turned to look at the other Henry, giving him a silly smile. Before turning back towards the window, gasping in surprise. “H-Hey! He’s gone?!”

“Hullo..” Said a tiny British voice, coming from behind them. Both men screamed and jumped.

Out of reflex he turned the door and wished he had his axe so he didn’t look so silly. Henry was in a startled position, holding an invisible/imaginary weapon.

Vincent stood in the doorway, watching them with a satisfied expression.

“So.. Let me guess.. his name is exactly the same as yours. Oh and sir, you should keep those bandages on. You might frighten someone..”

Henry internally pouted. ‘But i dun like them TwT’ he visibly cringed at that.

“Okay! Vincent you have got to stop doing that, it's creepy! Wait.. how did you do that in the first place..?” The child gave him a sweet smile, ignoring the question on purpose. Much to ‘Henry’s’ annoyance.

“Seeing about your aging problem, I assumed magic was normal in this place” Henry mumbled, mostly to himself.

“Pffft! Magic isn’t real! Oh.. actually maybe I should take that back.. It makes sense when we're talking about the studio..”

Henry gave him a cheesy grin, this was actually hilarious to him. “Joey once again proves something non-directly in a conversation.” he let out a small fit of laughter, failing miserably to keep it back.

“Well anyway, we shouldn't go yet. You still need to heal, and you! Vincent you need to get to school, before Annette notices you’re here.”

Henry let out a small gasp “NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! I’M LEAVING NOW!!” he marched to the door.

Vincent watched in amusement. Thinking: ‘Hmm, and people call me a child. Well then again I am only eight..”

(Hen-hen needs a chill pill XD)

He only made it out the door when a pair of arms wrapped around his chest. He could tell by the breathing that it was ‘Henry’ but that didn’t stop him from trying!

Vincent giggled at bit, slamming the door. Freaking both of them out, ‘Henry’ let go and wondered if that kid had some kind of telekinesis. However now wasn't the time to question it.

“I swear if that kid is giggling about what I think he is, I’m going to sic Joey on him”

“Nah man, let him have his fun. The kid doesn't have any parents or friends.. so just be nice to him okay?”

“.. Alright” he sighed, the kid reminded him of Bendy. Popping out of nowhere, random powers off the who how, just flat out being a devil…he shook his head, as far as he could tell the kid wasn’t THAT bad. He calmed down at the thought of his toons and friends. Crips was he worried about them.

“Can I come to the studio too Mr Williams? I'm curious to see what's inside..” The small boy asked.

Both Henry’s looked at each other. Henry personally how much BS is gonna go down and with someone else to protect- his mind immediately went to those in the studio.”yeeeeaaaaahhh NO!!”

Vincent just shrugged.

“I am NOT letting another one to go through Sammy’s BS and the ritual crap Joey's been doing! And you don’t wanna KNOW what Susie’s been up to!!!”

The child’s eyes practically lit up. The word ‘ritual’ definitely peaked his interest. This is something he knew he had to see.

The ink from Henry’s eyes somehow made its way to his shoulders because after he shouted and noticed the kids heart beat went up, the ink started to rise like a feral cat’s back as he shouted: “Don’t you DARE young man! I know EXACTLY what your gonna do!”

“Can you really though..? If I ask you to guess what I'm thinking, I highly doubt that you’ll get it right.”

“Your thinking of getting inside the studio anyway” Henry said, crossing his arms. “But fine! Go ahead! But I’m telling you if I go in there and you have a projector for a head, been fused into someone or SOMETHING else, OR HAVE GONE COMPLETELY INSANE. I’m not gonna feel a lick of remorse.” Henry said flatly.

“Ah.. you got part of it right, although you'll never know the reason.. also that was an oddly specific warning.. I don't suppose any of this really happened to you did it?”

Henry froze on the spot, frowning. He paused, then he sighed and said “no….but it did happen to some really close friends of mine.” his eyes started to water again, he looked awfully pale.

The boy softened his expression, with a sudden feeling of empathy. “I understand.. if you don't want to speak of them then don't. I've lost people too..”

“Just.. if you go in there, be ready for some hardcore gore kiddo.” he said sitting on his bed. “Those creatures- those THINGS in there. Were human- and STILL are. Every last one of them…”

“Are you suggesting that.. They’ve been corrupted into monsters?” His eyes narrowed. Making the small, weak-looking boy seem almost predatory.

“Heh…” he wiped a tear away before it became a fruitless attempt of ink. “A-almost. They’re mostly human but made out of ink. Some lost their minds, others their memories. And some are just…..shards of previous co-workers…corpses...t-then there’s those who’ve kept most of their sanity, helpful and loving even!” he said, remembering Bendy and Boris. “But the ink itself…..” he stopped talking and started shivering uncontrollably.

‘Henry’ suddenly joins back into the conversation. “W-Wait.. are you saying that there are people trapped down there..? M-My friends?!”

Henry sniffed, more ink running down his face. “T-the ink. It rips you apart till your in pieces, floating there LIKE FISH IN A BOWL!” He mimicked “alice” in a way. “But th-that’s not it. It doesn’t stop there. The voices of the fallen are shouting- SCREAMING even! It swallows you whole, with no escape. But I’ve luckily...never actually had a real encounter with it. ‘She’ told me about it and I’ve actually seen it suck up random monstrosities in the halls. It still isn’t very safe to be near but you can’t exactly avoid it…”

“I.. I'm all alone then.. Everyone is trapped and I.. got freedom? T-This isn't fair..!” ‘Henry’ took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, which began to tear up as well.

Henry frowned. The other was supposed to be a goof like him. But maybe it was because HE knew what happened to them. Or he was just losing his mind, but he didn’t feel as much pain as he could hear his double was in. he unsteadily got up and wrapped ‘Henry’ into a bear hug, staying silent and keeping an ear out in-case the kid wanted to join in too.

The boy stayed silent. He knew that this was a very emotional moment for the two Henry's and didn't want to be rude.

As his double buried himself in his hug he slowly opened his eyes as much as he could for the burn to be durable enough and he looked at the kid. His right iris was paper white with black seemingly taking over on the edge of the eye itself and seemed to be glowing slightly. while his left eye looked to be a green color but it was darkened and seemed lifeless or fake.

‘Hmm.. interesting, I wonder what kind of dark magic it is that we’re going to be dealing with..’ The boy thought.

He pulled his double away. “Come on, you gotta man up.” he looked at him in his still watery eyes. “They’re still alive! We can still come back to the studio and fix (most of) this mess!”

“Uh.. are your eyes okay?”

“What? Do they spook you?”

“Nah not really I mean well Vincent has violet eyes so I'm a bit used to odd colours but this is just different..”

“Mmmm?” “BOO!” out of nowhere Henry suddenly opened his eyes fully and his left eye seemed to respond as both eyes looked ‘Henry’ directly in his eyes as Henry shouted and almost immediately recoiled in pain and collapsed on the bed. “WorTh iiiiiiiiiiittttttttt”

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so yeah! that’s the second chapter! basically Hen-hen almost accidentally commits suicide and then needs some chill pills, ‘Henry’ has a sugar problem, and Vincent trolls the both of them.