#a teenage boy driving WITH a broken foot in the OPPOSITE direction from the (very close) hospital

[elpsycongruent]

car: *flies through stop sign without stopping*

me, gesturing at it: "there's a stop sign, jackass"

driver: "what?"

me: "you ran through that stop sign."

driver: "um, you realize I'm a minor, right?"

me: "...do... do you think that excuses bad driving???"

[suttcnfm]

hi  it’s  me  your  least  favorite  (  and  most  favorite  )  person  hailey  back  at  it  again  making  a  bio  that’s  way  too  long  .  this  is  sutton  ,  she’s  my  whimiscal  fairy  child  who’s  endured  a  lot  please  be  gentle  with  her  !!  or  ruin  her  life  !!  whatever  you  want  !!

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊.  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

( elizabeth lail, cisfemale, she/her, pisces, 25 ) i spotted sutton harvey at the beach today. don’t you know them? they live down by the boardwalk and usually hang out with the artists & boho clique. from what i’ve heard, they can be finicky, but they’re also effervescent. i always think of them when i hear fuck it i love you - lana del rey and tend to associate them with mom jeans stained with acrylic paint, the taste of strawberry lemonade, & white cotton sundresses

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 

sutton elise harvey

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬) 

her mom used to call her ellie

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 

february 22nd

𝐚𝐠𝐞 

twenty - five ( 25 )

𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 

five foot eight inches ( 5′ 8″ )

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

female 

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 

she / her

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧(𝐬)

painter and art contributor for sunhollow museum

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞(𝐬) 

english & french

𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 

bisexual & biromantic

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦

elizabeth lail

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜

pisces sun, gemini rising, & aries moon

𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

chaotic neutral 

𝐦𝐛𝐭𝐢 

enfp-a

𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞

type 4w3 ( the individualist )

𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 

sanguine-melancholic

𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 

hufflepuff

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 

how she loves others - acts of service, gift giving, & quality time

how she needs to be loved - quality time & physical touch

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨

cassie ainsworth ( skins )  ,  luna lovegood ( harry potter )  , bubbles ( powerpuff girls ) , claire colburn ( elizabethtown ) , bmo ( adventure time )

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒗. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

triggers  (  these  are  all  the  triggers  as  they  appear  throughout  ,  they  will  be  tagged  accordingly  )  :  death  mention  ,  cancer  and  death  tw  ,  drug  mention  ,  sexual  assault  tw  ,  addiction  tw  ,  drugs  tw  ,  and  drug  mention

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 

the  first  time  warm  brown  eyes  peered  into  her  mothers  a  connection  was  formed  ,  the  eldest  daughter  to  what  would  soon  be  an  expansive  harvey  household  .  this  very  moment  would  be  the  catalyst  of  a  bond  that  formed  sutton  into  who  she  is  ,  though  i  am  getting  ahead  of  myself  .

sutton  harvey  grew  up  in  julian  california  a  town  that  carried  the  suffocating  small  town  feel  of  suburbia  despite  being  mere  minutes  outside of  the  hustle  and  bustle  of  los  angeles  .  though  it  should  be  mentioned  that  she  preferred  the  quiet  stillness  of  a  town  where  she  could  known  by  someone  for  something  .

her  parents  were  an  interesting  pair  .  her  mother  a  free  spirited  enigmatic  young  woman  who  believed  in  healing  through  love  and  nature  ,  and  her  father  a  struggling  mean  -  spirited  business  tycoon  always  looking  for  the  next  thing  he  could  exploit  .  but  despite  their  clashing  personalities  and  seemingly  opposite  morals  ,  they  were  in  love  ,  had  been  since  high  school  ,  and  they  balanced  each  other  out  almost  perfectly  . 

but  as  it  turns  out  almost  perfect  wasn’t  good  enough  for her  father  ,  who  split  when  she  was  eight  ,  leaving  behind  sutton’s  heart  broken  mother  ,  and  five  kids  to  raise  alone  .

the  family  was  hardly  making  a  enough  to  survive  before  the  sudden  departure  of  her  father  ,  and  so  this  left  an  eight  -  year  -  old  sutton  to  step  up  to  the  plate  and  help  her  mother  ,  raising  her  siblings  while  her  mom  tried  to  find  steady  work  .   

as  the  years  went  on  and  her  siblings  had  more  and  more  needs  things  only  got  more  difficult  .  trying  to  provide  for  five  children  on  one  paycheck  isn’t  exactly  the  easiest  thing  that  one  can  do  after  all  .

sutton  prayed  that  she’d  be  graced  with  the  same  mean  streak  that  her  father  had  ,  but  alas  she  was  gentle  at  heart  ,  similar  to  her  mother  an  enigmatic  personality  that  was  hard  to  pin  down  .

while  it  worked  in  her  benefit  with  most  people  ,  it  is  difficult  to  raise  children  without  practical  dreams  ,  something  sutton  had  never  been  a  fan  of  ,  there  were  times  when  this  became  a  point  of  contention  between  her  and  younger  sister  reece  ,  but  for  the  most  part  her  siblings  recognized  how  difficult  a  thing  their  sister  was  doing  .  

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞. 

DEATH MENTION  her  teenage  years  came  much  faster  than  she  anticipated  ,  and  while  life  had  been  mostly  smooth  sailing  in  her  eyes  ,  there  were  things  that  sutton  simply  wasn’t  prepared  for  .  the  loss  of  her  mother  was  one  of  them  .

CANCER & DEATH TW  unbeknownst  to  any  of  her  children ,  behind  the  scenes  sutton’s  mother  had  been  suffering  from  breast  cancer  ,  and  she’d  opted  out  of  getting  treatment  ,  something  they  couldn’t  afford  with  the  minimal  money  she  was  bringing  in  ,  and  instead  she  suffered  in  silence  so  they  would  have  a  chance  at  survival  .

everyone  ,  including  sutton  herself  ,  expected  her  to  break  .  the  bond  that  the  two  had  built  was  immeasurable  and  sutton  had  never  shown  the  ablitiy  to  be  grounded  before  .  her  and  her  mother  were  both  two  enigmas  perfectly  coexisting  ,  and  suddenly  it  was  up  to  sutton  to  figure  out  what  to  do  .

DRUGS & ALCOHOL TW   enter  sutton’s  aunt  ,  claire  ,  who  begrudgingly  left  her  life  in  las  vegas  to  come  and  watch  over  her  nieces  and  nephews  at  the  price  that  she  would  blow  most  of  the  money  the  received  on  drugs  and  alcohol  .

DRUG MENTION  there  wasn’t  a  day  sutton  could  remember  that  she  didn’t  come  home  to  her  aunt  passed  out  with  vodka  bottles  littering  the  floor  or  strung  out  on  coke  with  a  man  sutton  had  never  seen  before  on  their  couch  .

sutton’s  resilience  was  the  only  thing  that  kept  her  going  ,  she  shielded  her  siblings  from  as  much  as  she  could  ,  knowing  that  this  was  the  last  thing  they  needed  to  be  their  reality  ,  and  for  the  most  part  ,  it  worked  .

SEXUAL ASSAULT TW  then  came  another  decimating  blow  ,  on  a  day  like  any  other  sutton’s  aunt  for  once  sober  enough  to  drive  ,  pulled  sutton  out  of  school  early  and  took  her  home  .  and  what  seemed  like  an  out  of  character  behavior  for  aunt  to  exhibit  ,  became  crystal  clear  when  sutton  saw  the  man  waiting  for  her  on  the  couch  .

SEXUAUL ASSAULT TW  this  became  another  habit  of  her  aunt’s  ,  pulling  sutton  out  of  school  in  order  to  use  her  body  to  score  drugs  .  then  bringing  her  back  and  forcing  her  to  act  normal  ,  as  if  things  were  still  totally  fine  .

sutton  put  on  a  brave  face  for  her  siblings  ,  but  was  slowly  cracking  under  the  pressure  of  everything  that  seemed  to  be  perfectly  chipping  away  at  the  person  she  once  was  .

this  is  until  she  met  a  boy  ,  a  musician  with  a  similar  story  to  hers  ,  who  she  completely  connected  with  in  a  way  that  was  rivaled  only  by  her  mother  .  him  and  her  seemed  to  have  the  same  bleeding  wounds  that  could  only  be  healed  by  each  other  .

cue  nights  at  the  beach  ,  swapping  stories  ,  and  endless  road  trips  confined  to  their  little  bubble  of  bliss  .  he  fueled  the  artist  within  her  .  painting  upon  painting  of  the  way  he  made  her  feel  ,  how  his  music  moved  her  ,  for  once  the  world  didn’t  seem  so  cruel  .

but  of  course  ,  the  world  was  determined  to  prove  sutton  harvey  wrong  .  with  a  sudden  disappearance  of  both  her  first  love  and  her  aunt  ,  the  latter  of  which  ran  back  to  vegas  with  her  new  beau  ,  she’d  felt  abandoned  just  as  before  .  and  here  is  where  sutton  harvey  finally  cracked  .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡. 

she  and  her  siblings  moved  in  with  her  father  ,  who  living  a  more  lavish  and  childless  lifestyle  with  his  new  fiancée  in  san  diego  .  the  harvey  siblings  were  yet  again  tasked  with  raising  themselves  .

ADDICTION TW  with  her  siblings  growing  older  ,  and  sutton  having  mounds  of  unprocessed  trauma  ,  and  she  began  to  mix  with  the  wrong  crowd  .  finding  the  numbing  of  substances  felt  better  than  the  hollow  numbness  of  being  abandoned  by  every  person  she’d  ever  loved  .

art  and  school  alike  became  distant  priorities  as  she  spent  her  last  nights  as  a  senior  doing  ecstasy  on  the  beach  and  hooking  up  with  randoms  just  to  feel  alive  again  .

DRUGS TW after  just  barely  graduating  ,  sutton  spent  her  new  found  freedom  getting  high  ,  having  sex  ,  and  wasting  her  life  away  .  struggling  to  find  any  sense  of  self  in  everything  she’d  done  ,  her  entire  life  seemed  to  have  been  lived  for  other  people  .

this  only  made  her  further  spiral  ,  trying  to  convince  herself  that  even  though  this  was  having  a  negative  toll  on  her  ,  at  least  for  once  she  was  living  for  herself  .

DRUG MENTION  this  was  until  while  she  was  coming  down  from  an  immense  high  she  stumbled  upon  a  record  store  where  through  the  window  she  caught  a  small  glimpse  of  her  past  ,  of  the  person  she  used  to  be  ,  the  face  of  the  boy  who’d  up  and  left  all  those  years  ago  .

her  entire  world  seemed  to  collide  with  her  heart  at  that  very  moment  .  for  a  fleeting  moment  she  felt  like  the  girl  she  was  in  high  school  ,  full  of  life  ,  love  ,  and  most  importantly  art  .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

after  this  near  encounter  with  her  past  self  ,  she  worked  heavily  on  getting  sober  .  and  has  now  been  clean  for  five  years  !!

after  her  first  year  of  getting  sober  she  worked  multiple  jobs  to  buy  a  small  studio  apartment  where  she  could  begin  painting  again  ,  and  even  made  strides  to  reconnect  with  her  father  and  her  siblings  whom  she’d  since  distanced  herself  from  .

soon  enough  she  became  an  art  contributor  for�� the  local  museum  and  earns  her  income  between  hosting  small  art  galleries  on  the  pier  and  the  aforementioned  art  contributions  .

after  three  years  of  sobriety  ,  more  widely  recognized  art  ,  and  a  proper  relationship  with  her  father  ,  he  gifted  her  a  beach  house  where  she  spends  a  majority  of  her  time  .

what  started  as  one  cat  to  keep  her  company  turned  into  nine  because  if  there’s  one  thing  that  sutton  lacks  it’s  control  .

she  has  fully  embraced  the  person  she  was  and  the  person  she  aims  to  be  .  her  personality  is  a  direct  influence  on  who  her  mother  was  because  if  there’s  anyone  that  sutton  looks  up  into  in  life  ,  it’s  her  .  the  best  way  i  could  describe  her  personality  is  the  embodiment  of  the  quote  ,  “ i  could  never  be  the  main  character  . i  exist  solely  in  the  fevered  imaginations  of  sensitive  writer-directors  to  teach  broodingly  soulful  young  men  to  embrace  life  and  its  infinite  mysteries  .  ”

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 

lavender

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 

light fog because she likes the scenery it creates

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲 

dawn,  there’s something pure to her about the stillness of the earth at that time of  day and !! it’s when she gets a lot of her painting done !!

𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥(𝐬) 

butterflies and elephants

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐬

🍒🥺✨😡🌈🦋🤡🥰

��𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

penelope harvey ; deceased

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

maxwell harvey  ;  alive

𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬)

reece harvey ; sister 

elizabeth harvey ; sister 

wyatt harvey ; brother 

casey harvey ; brother 

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 

𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

high  school  diploma

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬 

in  order  of  breed  :  poppy  (  scottish  fold  )  ,  milo  (  scottish  fold  )  ,  taz  (  scottish  fold  )  ,  jasper  (  british  shorthair  )  ,  archie  (  british  shorthair  )  ,  sadie  (  british  shorthair  )  ,  ginger  (  maine  coon  )  ,  hunter  (  maine  coon  )  ,  and  felix  (  maine  coon  )

𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬

painting  ,  sketching  ,  learning  languages  ,  reading  ,  photography  ,  writing  ,  sewing  ,  thrifting  ,  playing  instruments  (  mostly  the  guitar  )  ,  and  baking 

𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

a  beach  house  gifted  from  her  father  but  splits  her  time  between  a  studio  apartment  cramped  with  art  and  a  beach  house  filled  with  cats 

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

has  a  tendency  to  not  sleep  enough  ,  has  occasional  nightmares  ,  and  is  prone  to  frequent  tossing  and  turning  .  but  when  she  does  fall  asleep  ,  it’s  almost  a  guarantee  you  won’t  be  able  to  wake  her  up  .  she’s  an  extremely  heavy  sleeper  . 

𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

honestly  it’s  a  toss  -  up  she  either  eats  junk  food  for  a  straight  week  and  has  never  seen  a  vegetable  in  her  life  ,  or  she  is  on  a  health  binge  and all  you’re  going  to  find  in  her  house  is  snap  peas  and  baby  carrots  .

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

sunrises  ,  house  plants  ,  soft  hands  ,  fuzzy  socks  ,  the  color  yellow  , vanilla  scented  candles  ,  soft  lips  ,  rosy  cheeks  ,  strawberries  ,  freshly manicured  nails  ,  over  sweetened  coffee  ,  kiss  marks  on  napkins  ,  dewy  skin  ,  french  words ,  paint  stained  clothing  ,  midnight  conversations  ,  a  sweet tooth  ,  gold  jewelry  , warm  hugs  ,  gentle  voice  , and  dancing  in  the  rain  .

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗𝒊.  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

uhhhh  so  i  have  wasted  all  my  brain  power  on  this  so  some  suggestions  are  exes  ,  fwbs  ,  unrequited  crushes  ,  skinny  love  ,  slow  burn  ,  a  girl  squad  ,  ride  or  dies  ,  work  friends  or  maybe someone  who  admires  her work  ,  best  friends  ,  fake  relationship  ,  enemies  ,  ex  -  friends  ,  enemies  turned  friends  ,  friends  turned  enemies  ,  good  influence  ,  bad  influence  , old  party  friends  ,  one  night  stand(s)  , ,  neighbors  ,  secret  friends  ,  and  those  are  all  the  suggestions  i  can  come  up  with  at  the  moment  !  feel  free  to  message  me  with  plot  ideas  i  promise  i  will  scream  and  cry  over  .

[laylacooke]

Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked || Sam & Layla

timing:  Thursday Morning at Took’s General Store parties: @hackysackace & @laylacooke Summary: Layla loses her job and possibly a friend. Warnings: Some violence towards the end. 

“Ain’t No Rest for The Wicked” played faintly out of the speakers hanging high above in Took’s. Layla had already been late for her shift. She wasn’t wearing the required uniform, and she was snacking on something that looked like it had been sitting on the shelf for as long as the store had been in business. “How did I end up at such a BORING job again?” She sighed loudly. Raising one eyebrow, she hopped off the counter she was sitting on, towards the front of the store. It was nearly empty, but it still didn’t stop the few patrons wandering around from staring at her or in her general direction.

Sam looked up from where he’d been scrubbing the store floor, shoes covered in suds as he moved and swept the mob across the entryway in the aftermath of a syrup and beer incident. “Hey Layla,” he said, sizing her up with an expression of confusion. “Uh, Bill’s gonna want you to put the uniform on when you’re not in the stockroom…” 

Finishing off whatever crumbs remained from her snack, Layla tossed the bag on the floor. Hearing Sam’s voice, she wandered through the aisles with her fingers slapping into the products hanging from hooks and sitting on shelves, “Oh, is he? Well, what if I don’t have it?” She slowly inched her way closer to Sam as she stared at the few customers giving her a once over, “What are you looking at?” Sending a hiss their way, the redhead laughed at the jumpy reactions.

Sam’s puzzlement deepened into a frown whose edges were crinkled with uncertainty. Widened blue eyes glanced from Layla to the heckled customers. “Uh, then you’ll need to get back to the stockroom,” he said upon rising to his feet and gingerly lowering the mop back into the suds bucket. After propping up a doubled-sided yellow “Wet Floor Sign”, Sam crossed the distance to where Layla was doing her Wicked Witch of the Northeast impression. “Heh uh,” he ventured in a cautiously low voice. “You ok?” 

“The stockroom huh? You gonna handle this big store all by yourself?” She glanced around. Took’s wasn’t Walmart sized, but it was a lot for one person to take care of. Layla watched as Sam made his way towards her. Had she been any closer to where he was moping, she would have kicked the sign over, but instead, she stopped and pulled a bag of Veggie Straws off the shelf. Crumpling the bag in her hands in order to form a nice multicolored powder, she popped open the bag and dumped the contents onto the floor spreading the dust around with her foot, “Missed a spot, and I’m great. Haven’t felt this good in a long time.” Dropping the empty Veggie Straws bag into his bucket of water, she made her way towards the back as requested, now, having the opportunity to kick the “Wet Floor” sign down. 

Honestly Sam didn’t relish the thought of manning the floor all by himself with this many people here. He was about to apologize and suggest some other alternative but then Veggie Straws got scattered all over the floor and in the scud bucket. Striding over the fallen sign, Sam tried to catch up to Layla. “Woah what is...Layla what’s the matter with you?! Why…”

She was almost back to the stockroom, when she heard him come up behind her, “Uh, because I can? I don’t see you trying to stop me. Besides, I’m sick of this town walking all over me or telling me I’m too weak. Or to quit whining.” It was like she had a bone to pick with whoever crossed her path, whether it be friends or complete strangers. She had already wreaked havoc all over town, and Took’s General Store was just another place Layla was working on checking off her list. Any remorse she had felt was non-existent now, and while she resented Salva for giving her the curse of being a werewolf, she was starting to relish in the idea of no longer having a conscience. After all, what was the point? She was just a monster to most. Why not act like one and give the people what they wanted.

Sam’s soft features were blank and lost during Layla’s explanation. About the most violent thing Sam ever engaged in was Lacrosse and hauling thrashing Atlantic tuna into the fishing rig. He hadn’t really considered forcefully stopping her, but the taunt still burnt a little. “Look,” Sam pleaded, “you’re not weak. I’m sure you’d do awesome in soccer and can do a lotta reps,” the high school athlete said, perhaps misunderstanding Layla’s deeper meaning. “But, weren’t you just saying you wanted normalcy and all that? Boss is gonna be pissed if stuff is wrecked. C’mon, ill clean this up and we’ll get you a new uniform.” 

“Soccer? You’re thinking about Ariana. I’m a cheerleader.” She turned on her heels to face him, an evil smirk poised on her blood red lips, and blocked his path, “Come on, Sammy Boy. Be aggressive. Be-e aggressive.” She slowly inched forward clapping her hands along with the cheer, increasing the taunt. “Be aggressive. Be-e aggressive.” Before long, she was right up on him, and instead of clapping, she was pushing him backwards as she resumed her chant. Hoping he would fight back. Layla wanted action. The wolf inside of her wanted action, and he was giving her nothing in return

Sam Rainsbottom was an athletic young man with a filled-out frame, much like his father. Although Sam’s mellow mien and boyish features didn’t lend themselves to an intimidating bearing. But being pushed around by a hot girl in front of a bunch of staring customers was emasculating enough to kindle a spark of anger. “Cut it out,” he snapped. “The hell are you doing?!” Sam’s shoulders squared and he stopped stepping backward again Layla’s pushes, choosing to hold his ground. “I don’t know if you're fickin high of what,” Sam snapped, voiced heated but still low enough that it carried only to the two of them. He made no move against Layla however, just holding his place. “But maybe you need to sign out. I’ll cover your shift.” 

Layla stopped chanting, giving him one last firm shove that sent him nowhere, “Well look who finally grew a pair.” The smirk was a wide grin. “Never seen you so angry, Sam. What’s the matter? Afraid a girl might actually be stronger than you are?” She cocked her head to the side, before pulling her long, red hair over to the opposite shoulder. Seeing the people staring at them, she flashed her yellow eyes and bared her fangs, causing them to scatter, and the bell over the door to ring continuously until no one, but Sam and Layla remained. Glancing back to Sam, she gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, “There you go, Buddy. Store’s empty. Now the real fun can start.” Pushing past him, a hard shoulder going into his arm and chest, she started to move down the aisles tossing shit onto the floor, “Let’s see what Bossman thinks now?” 

Holy shit.

Sam had willingly taken a few steps back when Layla had unveiled luminous that seemed almost luminous, and bared fangs that looked like they punch though his forearm like tissue paper. The young woman scowled at himself for losing his grip like that. But those prosthetics looked almost...uh...well they were pretty high quality for sure. “It’s not about who's stronger Layla. You’re running off customers, messing up stock! You could get fired!” 

She stopped what she was doing, and sighed loudly, “Does  it  look  like  I  care? Half this shit’s probably been sitting on the shelves since before your born. Now, do you want to help me or are you going to be a problem?” There was no real motive behind what she was doing. Layla was purely enjoying it for the chaos she was causing; the consequences going straight out the door.

Sam Rainbottom was no saint and had committed all the usual chicanery one might expect of teenage fellows who are perhaps a bit too easily swayed by their peers. However, school roof-climbing, pranks, questionable choices of the sex drive were one thing. Trashing the store in broad daylight where store cameras were likely recording them was another matter, however. 

Sam squared his shoulders and walked up to Layla, blissfully unaware that he was approaching a creature who could rip him in half and grabbed at the latest item she was about to throw on the floor. “I’m going to be a problem. You need to stop.” Sam’s normally placid pond-blue eyes had hardened and chilled in anger. “Now.”

Seeing Sam come over got her heart beating harder in her chest, but what he had said, she didn’t like. His authoritative tone had reminded her of her parents, and the hell they had put her through. A low growl in her throat and claws pushing out of her fingertips, she snarled, “That was the wrong answer, Sam. The wrong fucking answer.” Lowering her head, Layla charged him and shoved him as hard as she could; her wolf strength sending his buff form into the row of shelves behind them.

At this point she didn’t care if she had hurt him or not. Instead, she continued to destroy the store making sure to take extra care of ripping things up with her claws. If he didn’t want a mess, she was going to give him one. She was taking this as seriously as he had gotten with her. As seriously as her parents took hunting, making it very clear that she needed to as well. Her own personal vendetta being released on Sam and Took’s out of the twisted thoughts that lingered her mind now.

There was a ringing in Sam’s head as he tried to get his bearings. Everything was darkness, strange twisting shades. His ribs spasmed and Sam’s curled into a ball on the floor as he tried to cough in harsh rasping breaths. Sam was enough of an athlete to know that some ribs and his shoulder were dislocated, maybe broken. Flares of pain and cold numbness seared through his chest and spine. Being thrown through metal shelving had opened multiple lacerations before he’d impacted the floor headfirst. There was warmth against his cheek as blood welled from his forehead and temple in a growing pool on the linoleum floor. 

Sam didn’t have the thought capacity to consider how a willowy-seeming girl about his age could throw him like that and nearly broken his ribs when Sam’s gotten through plenty of Lacrosse and Football games just fine. There was only pain, darkness, strange colors of vertigo, the mingled warmth and cold of bleeding out. 

Making sure to trash every inch of the place, she didn’t stop until she was done. Bottles lay busted with soda, beer, and other sticky stuff on the floor. Food lay exposed or crushed. Fishing poles, tackle, and other random items that were contained in the walls of Took’s looked as if it were the holidays and there was a rush on the latest deals. She had successfully wrecked a town staple all out of her own form vengeance for all the hurt she had been put through. All while Sam Rainbottem lay in a crumpled-up heap on the floor.

Giving her masterpiece of destruction one last look, a sinister smile slipped over her blood red lips, and without hanging around any longer, Layla found her way out in the street humming the tune of “Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked” by Cage the Elephant, not giving a second thought to how much trouble she had just gotten herself into.

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Big God, part 1

Here it is.  This is a Catradora Superhero AU.  

This story contains Graphic Violence and Copious Amounts of Angst.  Please bear that in mind.  The chapter titles are taken from songs on the Into The Spiderverse soundtrack.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638580/chapters/41591732

Summary:  Catra is totally on top of her life. She's got a successful business, loyal employees, a nice car, and a woman she loves more than anything. It's great. Life is great. There's just one problem. One massive, glowing, eight foot tall problem with a sword that keeps butting into things that aren't her business!

~~~Part 1: Hide

Mismatched eyes open slowly, blinking from the sunlight streaming into the room.  Catra grunts drowsily and moves to put a hand over her face.  Her shift causes the naked arm resting across her waist to tighten reflexively.  Catra’s other hand runs light fingers over smooth, pale skin, teasing a sleepy sigh from the woman next to her.

“That tickles,” Adora says, the words muffled against the pillow.  Catra smirks, increasing the speed of her caresses.  It gets exactly the response she expects.  “Noooo,” the blonde whines, pulling Catra back against her chest with her powerful arms, pressing her forehead against Catra’s neck.  “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean,” Catra retorts, grinning while Adora can’t see her face. “It’s not my fault you’re more ticklish than a baby monkey.”

“How dare you use my one weakness against me?  Dastardly,” Adora says, nuzzling her shoulder.

“One weakness?” Catra scoffs playfully.  “I seem to recall you having quite a few weaknesses just last night.” She carefully turns over to look at her lover, pressing her hand over a perky breast.  “Like when I used my tongue to---"  She receives a light smack as Adora rolls away from her.

“That’s just because you’re really good at it,” Adora says in self-defense, but Catra can see the pink tinge in her cheeks even from this angle.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, babe,” she says as she stretches and begrudgingly sits up.  She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and glances about.

Adora always keeps their tiny bedroom organized and clean, making sure everything is in its “proper” place.  Catra doesn’t give a shit one way or the other, but she supposes it’s easier to find clean underwear now.  She gets up to do just that, while on the other side of the bed Adora is typing something on her phone while she tries to put panties on with one hand.

“Do you have to go in early today?” Catra asks as she reaches into a drawer for a bra.

“Yeah,” Adora says, sending her message and setting her phone on the bed. “Remember I told you we’re starting those morning classes this month?”  Adora works at a large gym in downtown Bright Moon as a martial arts instructor and personal trainer, teaching people of all ages and types to do push-ups and throw a half-way decent punch.  She’s good at it, makes decent money too, but her schedule changes with the whims of her clients.  Catra doesn’t have to worry about that so much, but her own work often means that she comes and goes at odd hours.  It can be difficult to plan around, but she thinks they manage it alright, all things considered.

“Are you still pairing up with that short girl?  What’s her name, Shimmer?”

“Glimmer,” Adora corrects with an indulgent grin. “And yes, she’s going to be my assistant instructor.  For a girl who barely breaks 4’9”, she can knock your ass through a wall.  I’ve seen it happen so don’t test her.  Right now, we’re mostly gauging interest, seeing how many people show up, so this class might end really early if no one shows. Then I’ll be free until 1.  You sure you’ll be too busy at the club to grab lunch?”

Catra shrugs.  “If we weren’t hosting that big party for the mayor tonight, I’d say it’d be fine, but there’s a lot of set-up that still needs to be done, and if I’m not there to kick butts into gear it never will be.”

Her girlfriend makes a pouty noise, but kisses her on the cheek as she passes by going to the bathroom.  Catra follows her, wrapping her arms around Adora’s waist and breathing in the scent of her shampoo.  “You still good to be my arm candy tonight?  I can’t wait to show you off to all the jealous plebs in this city.”

Adora rolls her eyes, but grins.  “Yes, I’ll be your Plus 1.  I shouldn’t be at work any later than 5, so I should have enough time to get ready before 8.”

Catra smiles and nips her shoulder gently.  “Are you going to wear that red dress?”  She runs a lusty hand down Adora’s back and over the curve of her ass.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Adora teases. “And I might never decide if I can’t even brush my teeth this morning, so if you’ll excuse me.”

Catra snickers but steps away.  She’s got her own teeth to brush after all.

Adora makes sure she’s combed out her hair and has a packed lunch before she leaves the house.  Catra feels a bit like a little kid when she does this, but then again, her own mother had never done anything like this, so she supposes it’s just making up for lost time. Adora knows how to make her favorite sandwich, which also helps.

They part ways with a sweet kiss before Adora walks to her bus stop and Catra makes her way to the shiny black Cadillac parked next to their building, driving in the opposite direction.  She phones her main man at her club, Half-Moon.

“Mornin’ boss,” he greets her.  “Shop’s still getting set up here, but we’ll be plenty ready for tonight.”

“That’s what I like to hear.  Be sure to check all the cameras and table bugs, make extra certain they’re not noticeable.  We cannot have the mayor’s people finding them before we get the dirt, you got me?”

“Loud and clear, boss.  They’ll be damn near invisible when we’re done.”

“Good. I’m heading to Fright Zone now. Call me if there are any problems.” She hangs up and sets her phone in the cupholder.  She maneuvers her ride through the busy morning traffic of Bright Moon’s New East Side, moving away from chic, modern apartments and coffee shops and towards faded brick, broken windows, and graffiti.  A tourist stopping in Bright Moon would be treated to all the pretty parks and department stores of downtown, and all the theater shows, museums, and concerts on the North Side.  They’d never have reason to venture off from their segue tours and come to this part of the city, where they could glimpse the ugly blemish hiding just behind the city’s pretty façade.  They wouldn’t see tenement buildings on the verge of collapse, overcrowded and underheated. They wouldn’t see the gang signs painted on every bare surface and even on top of each other.  They wouldn’t see the orphans, the runaways, the dealers, the addicts, the homeless, and the sick coming out of the brickwork to try and face another day.  No, they would never see any of that, and wouldn’t care enough to try.

But Catra drives down roads that are very familiar, past managers of shoddy convenience stores and teenagers loitering on the sidewalk.  Everyone in this town knows when she’s riding through, and they nod respectfully at her car it goes by.  She drives until she reaches her destination, the nicest-looking building in the Old East Side, which isn’t saying much.

Fright Zone is a bar and sometimes nightclub, the second club that Catra owns and the one where she conducts her real business.  Half-Moon is the side of her operations that she displays to the public, hence its name, but Fright Zone is really where she spends most of her time. The parking lot is empty save for two black SUVs and a van, all without license plates or obvious identifying features. She parks next to them and gets out, throwing on a pair of shades as she walks to the entrance.  Two of her guards greet her there, opening the doors for her.

The inside of Fright Zone is nothing extravagant, unlike Half-Moon, but it’s good enough for gangsters and that’s all she needs.  She strolls past her soldiers sitting at the bar and scattered tables, and they salute her.

Scorpia is leaning against the door to her office when she reaches it.  She smiles brightly at Catra.  “Good morning, boss!”

“Scorpia,” Catra says, businesslike, but she can’t help her small grin.  It’s hard to be super serious around Scorpia. They’ve been working together for years now and Catra has learned to go with the flow of her lieutenant’s naturally cheerful attitude.  “Do you have a team for me?”

“You bet!” Scorpia says, following Catra into her office and shutting the door behind her.  When Catra bought Fright Zone and had it refurbished, she’d allowed herself small luxuries in her personal workspace.  Nice carpet, ebony desk, some art on the walls; just enough to make it feel like her own.  She takes a seat behind her very nice ebony desk and opens the file that Scorpia places in front of her.  “They’re ready for real action, Catra.  They won’t disappoint.”

“Thanks, Scorpia, do me a favor and send them to me when they get here. Until then, go check with ‘Trapta that our gear is good to go.”

“You got it!”  Scorpia waves goodbye on her way out, leaving Catra to the peaceful quiet.  She takes the file and starts skimming through it, going over performance records and a list of training milestones, making her notes on a small pad of paper.  She texts her barkeep to bring her a drink as she reads.

It’s 9:30am when there’s a knock on her door.  Three people step inside, three kids each about 5 years younger than Catra herself.  The first is a girl with dark skin---a few shades more than her own---and short dreds paired with an undercut.  She’s lean, but makes up for lack of fat with muscles, and she walks like she’s marching off to war.  The second is a small, lanky boy, pale and freckled with blonde hair that flies in every direction.  The last is a hulk of a kid with shoulders and biceps as big as his head and the hands to match.  His eyes are green as grass and his mouth is marred by a two-inch long slash across his lips.

They file in side by side and they salute her.  “Captain Scorpia said you wanted to see us, boss?” The girl asks, standing ruler straight and meeting Catra’s eyes, unafraid.

She smiles to see it.  Her mother, the old boss, would have had the girl punished for disrespect, but Catra prefers that her people have some backbone.  “I do.  Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio, Scorpia has been telling me about how your team has performed in training.  You’ve received high scores in your simulations and physical tests, and she’s highlighted your strong team dynamic.”  She indicates their file on her desk.  “She tells me you’re ready to try the real thing.”

She can see the flash of excitement in their eyes, giddiness and pride.  Unlike her mother, Catra doesn’t withhold praise when it’s deserved, and her people are happier for it.

“You mean a real assignment?!” Lonnie blurts out before shutting her mouth with a loud click.  “I-I mean, Captain Scorpia thinks we’re ready for it?”

“She does.  I asked for a competent team to join me on an important job today, one that will help some of our future operations run smoother, and you were her top pick.” She sips her drink and regards the three of them.  She’s a little concerned about the tiny one, Kyle, but Scorpia assured her that he’s a good getaway driver if not much else.  The other two look like strong, capable cadets, but it’s easier to test that capability on an op like the one today.  “Our job is simple.  We’re robbing the Salineas Credit Union bank in downtown.  No fancy shit, just in for the money and then out, quick and focused. That being said…” she sets her glass down with a clink and puts her serious face on.  “It’s imperative that we represent ourselves properly.  We need these people to fear us.  They need to see more than a team of uppity thugs who got their hands on some guns.  They need to see us for what we are.  What are we, cadets?”

“We are The Horde!” They say in unison.

“That’s right.”  She stands up, placing her hands in the desk and leaning forward.  “Do well today, and the three of you will officially become soldiers of The Horde, with all the benefits and new responsibilities that entails. Are you ready to go over our plan?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

 It takes another hour to brief her team on the specifics of the job.  They memorize the layout of the Bank and quiz each other on the best route to take.  Lonnie takes charge of the other two for the most part, a natural leader. While they prepare themselves, Catra goes to the elevator to visit her ace in the hole.

She had met Entrapta, as she preferred to be known, in high school.  Always a little on the weird side, Entrapta didn’t exactly have friends.  Obsessed with science and machines, she was interested in social interactions mostly as a means to study behavior.  Catra used to find it unsettling, but now it’s just another part of what makes Entrapta… Entrapta.  She remembers that it was Adora who introduced them, way back when, but after high school she didn’t see Entrapta for close to five years, not until Catra was the new Boss and Entrapta was evicted from her shitty apartment and kicked out of her job for setting fires with robots.

She works for Catra now, who gives her enough leeway to run her crazy experiments as long as she doesn’t burn down Horde facilities.  In exchange, she provides tech for their operations, everything from better guns and faster cars to stealth drones and knock-out gas. Catra’s first three years as Boss had gone a lot better than expected with her inventions paving the way, so she doesn’t chide Entrapta even when she releases dangerous airborne chemicals into the ventilation system and they have to evacuate the club for 3 days.  To be fair, that’s only happened four times.

“What have you got for me, ‘Trapta?” She says by way of greeting as she enters the sprawling underground lab.  It’s fitted out with metric tons of equipment Catra can’t even begin to name, but she does know it was money well-spent.  She scans the room for the little scientist, who could hide out of sight with the best of them.

“Catra!” From her left, a welder’s mask and two pigtails of messy pink hair pop into view.  Entrapta hops over the table she is standing behind, bouncing on her feet next to Catra. She puts her mask up, revealing her huge smile.  “I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she says ecstatically, taking Catra’s hand and bodily dragging her over to one side of the room.  Catra rolls her eyes but allows herself to be moved.  Entrapta leads her over to a large, upright case built into the wall and sealed behind deadly expensive bullet-proof glass.  “I just put the finishing touch-ups on it this morning!”  She smacks a button and fluorescent white light floods the case, revealing what’s inside. Catra smiles.

“Oh yeah, today’s going to be a good day.”

 Adora calls her as they ride into downtown.  She’s sitting in the back with Rogelio, who respectfully puts his headset when she picks up.  She has to detach one of her power gloves to do it, but she gets it on the third ring. “Hey Adora, what’s going on?”

From the other end she can hear air rushing loudly in the background.  When Adora answers, her voice is louder than usual. “Oh, nothing really!  I just wanted to call and let you know that my class is done, so I’m going to be running some errands downtown before tonight. Do you need anything?”

“Just you, babe,” she purrs, messing around with the harness of her chest plate.

“Flirt.”

“You love it.  But no, I’m good.”  Her brow furrows.  “Babe, where are you?  I can barely hear you, is that wind?”

“Oh, uh… they pulled some of the big fans onto the gym floor to let people cool off. Sorry, I’d go somewhere else but it’s, uh, pretty crowded over here right now.”

“Hmm, whatever.  I’ll see you tonight when you’re all dolled up for me.”  She knows she’s got a stupid idiot grin on her face, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“Pfft, like I’m the only one dolling up.  I saw the suit you picked out.  Oh, but I gotta hop off before I miss my ride.  I’ll text you when I get to Half-Moon tonight, okay?”

“Alright.  I love you, babe.”

Catra can hear the smile in Adora’s voice.  “I love you too.  Bye!”

Rogelio removes his headset when Catra tucks her phone away.  Conveniently, the car comes to a stop shortly after, right outside the front doors of their target.  Catra reattaches her glove and pokes her head between the two front seats.  “This is it, cadets.  Remember your places, move on my signal.”

She pulls the metal mask down over her face.  It’s a fearsome thing, the visage of a snarling jungle cat with three sharp red lines extending across the nose.  It’s an aegis that scares off most who look at it.  Even Rogelio shivers just a little when he meets her gaze. But that’s good.  Everyone should be afraid when this mask comes on.  “Look alive,” she tells him.  Then, louder, “Masks on.  3, 2, 1…”

The bank is guarded, but not by anyone worth their salary.  Lonnie charges through the doors first, coldcocking the guard on the right and shooting the left one in the leg.  Rogelio pushes his way in after her, lighting up the room with the flash of gunfire.  He aims at the ceiling, causing plaster and tile to rain down from above, and then points his gun at the tellers standing behind the glass.  Kyle remains outside by the car, but his gun is up and ready should it be needed.

Catra, for her part, saunters in like she has all the time in the world.  Her armor clanks a bit when she walks across the pretty marble floors, and every step makes the room flinch.  It’s good, this feeling, this power.

“Alrighty, folks,” she says calmly, hearing her own voice snarl through the audio distortion tech in her mask, one of many gifts from Entrapta.  “Here’s how this is going to work.  We’re here to make a little withdrawal.  Don’t strain yourselves, we’ve going with the self-service option today.”  The sound of metal on flesh and more gunshots ring in the background as Lonnie makes short work of the other security personnel and starts moving to the vault.  “So! If everyone would be so kind as to take out their cellphones, pagers, tablets, walkie talkies, telegraph machines, and crystal balls and toss them right here into the center of the room, and then lay down flat on the floor, we won’t have to make a scene, alright?  Do it!”  Her command is a roar that makes a woman near her shriek in fear.  One by one, they each take out their phones and do as she commands.

Catra smirks underneath her mask, pleased.

But her smirk slides right off her face when, from behind her, there is a brief scream and a crash of glass, and suddenly Kyle is flying across the room, slamming into the teller counter and collapsing on the floor in a heap. Catra’s internal groan is loud enough to wake the dead, but though she is loath to do it, she turns around to face the one responsible.

Standing there in the doorway is the last person she wanted to see this morning. Eight feet tall and lit up like a damn glowstick, blonde hair flowing around her head like a living thing, and that stupid outfit, ugh…

Catra’s lips curl back, and she growls.  Of course, she would show up today, right when Catra most needs things to go right.  She spits out the hateful name that irritates her day and night. “She-Ra…” She is met with glowing ice-chip eyes staring coldly back at her.  Her teeth grind.  “Don’t you have a job?!”

A hard frown settles on that too-angular, too-perfect face she despises. Her nemesis steps through the shattered entryway, crunching broken glass beneath her pristine white boots.  She’s so ridiculously tall that she has to duck her head slightly to get in.  “Yes, actually, one I would love to return to,” She-Ra bites out.  “But instead, Tigress, I have to be here to make sure you put these people’s money back where you found it.”  She crosses her big fuckoff arms over her chest, staring down at Catra like a pissy school teacher.

Catra snarls, activating the claws in her gloves and preparing to strike. “’Fraid you’re going to leave disappointed, princess.  But I’ll be sure to buy a bouquet for your funeral with these people’s money!”  She leaps, intent on ruining that inhuman face permanently.  She-Ra meets her in midair, and the battle begins in earnest. Her first strike is blocked by the golden bracer on She-Ra’s left arm, but Catra gets her with the follow-up attack, punching her square in the jaw, hard enough that she feels it crack, hears the sound of it ring in her ears.  

She-Ra isn’t one to be felled so easily, of course, and she rolls with the hit, literally spinning in the air to drive her heel into Catra’s side, denting her armor and sending her hurtling back to the floor.  She hits with stomach-squishing force, and a cacophonous bang! echoes throughout the bank.  Several people cry out in shock.  She rolls away a second before She-Ra’s fist breaks through the tile next to her, sending shards of marble and dust hurtling into the air.  Catra spins backs around, presses a button on her wrist, and sends spine-like projectiles flying toward She-Ra’s unguarded face. Her adversary isn’t quite fast enough to avoid them, but they only nick her as they shoot past.

She-Ra tries to grab her by the chest, but Catra expects that.  She lets her get close before grabbing her arm above her bracers and sending enough electricity to kill an elephant through her fingers. She-Ra cries out and stumbles as her skin burns in Catra’s grip.  Catra uses the opportunity to look back at her team.  Rogelio still has his gun up and pointed at their foe, but his eyes keep flashing to Kyle unconscious just a few feet away.  She sees Lonnie run into view with a duffel bag packed with cash, sees her take aim at She-Ra and fire, but it’s no use.  Normal bullets barely seem to graze the woman’s skin, even on a direct hit.  Lonnie shoots and shoots until her clip is empty, and Catra calls out to her.  “Take the money and run!”  To Rogelio, she shouts “Get him and go!  Now!”  She turns her attention back to She-Ra, who is in the process of ripping Catra’s hands off her bicep.  She staggers back to her feet, but grits her too-white teeth in determination as blue light starts to radiate from her hand.  Shit!

Catra scrambles to her feet, or tries to, but She-Ra is faster this time, grabbing her with her free hand and chucking her like a discus through the wall and back out onto the streets of Bright Moon.  Catra only has a moment to move as a flash of white, gold, and blue descends on her.  She-Ra’s sword, that damnable, ridiculous, unbelievable, FUCKoff sword, shatters the concrete when it impacts, sending cerulean sparks flying.  Catra is back on her feet instantly, but not quickly enough to stop She-Ra, who starts sprinting toward their getaway van, where Lonnie and Rogelio are struggling to load in the money and Kyle’s unconscious body.  Roaring in frustration, she smashes a button on her boots and blasts off like a rocket, determined to stop She-Ra from reaching her team.  She catches up just as She-Ra reaches Lonnie, who still has the duffel bag.  Catra buries her claws into the hero’s shoulders, as deep as they’ll go, drawing a yelp of pain and surprise from her enemy. “Go!” She yells at Lonnie, even as She-Ra reaches out and rips the bag from her hands.  Lonnie’s eyes are terrified.  “Go!” Catra screams as she pulls and rips with her claws to drag She-Ra away from her cadet, raking them through the toughened flesh as best she can until the woman’s pretty white clothes are ruined with red.  Lonnie looks at her, stricken, but she follows her orders.  She jumps in the back of the van with Kyle as Rogelio drives, tires screeching and rubber burning as they speed out of sight.

“Give it up, Tigress!” She-Ra spits.  “Your plan has failed!” She reaches behind, grabs Catra, pulls her over her shoulder like she’s pulling a handbag, and slams her down onto the cement with a thunderous crash.

Catra sees stars for a single, seemingly endless moment but blinks them away.  I’ve got no damn time for that!  She can feel She-Ra trying to seize her arms to restrain her, and she pulls a maneuver she learned years ago from Adora.  She fights and wiggles until she gets both her legs under that red-stained midsection and activates her rocket boots as she kicks She-Ra full force in the stomach. It knocks both of them apart, and that’s all Catra needs.  She lets the jet propulsion carry her up into the air, spares one last hateful glance at She-Ra still down on the ground, and then flies off.

 Her cadets beg her for forgiveness as Scorpia checks her head to make sure she isn’t concussed.  Kyle is awake and concussion-free, but he’s going to be a walking bruise tomorrow, if he can even manage to walk.  Lonnie and Rogelio aren’t physically hurt, but their pride has taken a serious blow. Catra understands, and she waves off their apologies as unneeded.

“Things like this will happen,” she tells them.  “You can study and prepare and do everything right, and plans can still fail.  And it fucking sucks, but that’s the business.  We all made it out alive, and that’s the most important thing.”

“The boss is right,” Scorpia says as she shines a flashlight in Catra’s mismatched eyes.  “Even before She-Ra showed up, jobs could go south for any number of reasons.  What you need to remember is that no job is worth dying for, not one.  Failing a mission hurts something awful, but you always get yourself and your team out of the line of fire first.”

Lonnie doesn’t quite look convinced.  Catra rests a hand on her shoulder, surprising both of them.  “You did well.  You followed my orders and did what you could.  You’re going to make a fine soldier.”  She looks at Kyle and Rogelio.  “You boys too.  I’m proud of the three of you.”

“Thanks, boss,” Kyle says, brushing a tear from his eyes.  Catra turns back to let Scorpia finish her assessment.

“You’ll be fine, boss.  No sign of head trauma.  You’re going to be a little sore for a couple days, but that’s it.  It’s a good thing ‘Trapta upgraded the cushioning in your suit. Would’ve been a lot worse without that.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Catra grunts, get up out her chair.  “I still have to go to Half-Moon to make sure that tonight, at least, goes according to plan.”  She looks at Scorpia.  “Did you remind Entrapta what time the party starts?”

Scorpia nods.  “Once this morning and a few minutes ago.  I’ll remind her again in a few hours.  She’ll be ready.”

“Good.”  Catra pulls her suit jacket on and buttons it.  “Text me if anything happens, keep me updated on the situation here.”

“You got it!” Scorpia calls as she walks out the front doors.

 Preparing her club to host the mayor, city council, and every celebrity in Bright Moon doesn’t cause the same kind of stress as robbing a bank or fighting a supped-up space-Viking princess, but it’s stressful just the same.  Catra coordinates with her troops to set up every kind of spy equipment Entrapta could make for them so that no corner of the building is unmonitored.  It’s a delicate task.  If any of the mayor’s people find them out, they’ll be in for a world of suck.  So Catra personally inspects each device with her crew, and has them double check as the evening draws closer.  The whole purpose of the bank job was to start buzz, not to get money.  Well, the money would have been a nice bonus, but the real goal was always publicity.  Even though the mission was a failure, it was a thrilling spectacle. Set enough tongues wagging, and you never know what you might hear them say.  Money and guns could keep a criminal syndicate alive for the short-term, but long-term survival came from political favors and blackmail.  Catra’s mother had drilled that into her mind from her early years.  Don’t be blinded by thoughts of tomorrow and tomorrow, Catra.  You should be thinking of next year and next year and next year, always.  And Catra despises her mother, but knows good advice when she hears it.

The sun sets and the preparations finish.  Catra schools her crew one last time on how the night needs to go, and then the guests start arriving.  Catra falls into a familiar and comfortable groove playing the dashing, charismatic hostess.  It’s only partially an act; she can be very dashing when she wants to be.

When her phones buzzes, she can’t control the stupid grin that spreads across her face or the butterflies suddenly filling her stomach.  Just got here, I’m by the doors! <3  There’s an unmistakable sway in her hips as she walks towards the club entrance.  Her toes curl just a bit in her shoes, because Adora is wearing that dress and Catra is already two seconds away from dragging her to a back room and ripping it off.  Her gorgeous blonde hair is down tonight, framing her pretty face and neck.  Her smile is dizzying when she sees Catra coming toward her.  Catra wraps one arm around her waist and tugs Adora right against her body.  She catches those pretty red lips between her teeth as Adora giggles into her mouth.  

Catra presses a kiss to her lover’s jaw, but pulls back when her breath hisses through her teeth.  “What’s wrong?”

Adora’s face is pinched, but she smiles sheepishly.  “It’s nothing, just a bruise from my brown-belt class today.”

Catra frowns, touching the spot very gently with her fingertips, finally noticing the discoloration that had been masked by the club’s lighting.  “Are you okay?  Will you be alright to stay for the party?  I’ll take you home if you need me to.”

Adora kisses her cheek fondly and shakes her head.  “No, I’ll be fine.  They just got a few knocks on me in sparring.  Don’t worry, I gave as good as I got!”  God she’s beautiful when she laughs.

Catra smiles, knowing her heart is in her eyes. “I have no doubt that you did, love.”

[shookethbrooketh]

stars

chapter 21

like many moments of the day, it wasn’t even the physical contact that had him on the edge of his seat. it wasn’t sitting in phil’s lap, hands wrapped around his back as he placed soft, wet kisses up and down dan’s neck. it wasn’t phil’s hands in his hair as he gasped for air. it wasn’t urges he had to repress in the best interest of them both. it was just phil. It was just the two of them there, for the last time in the perceivable future. it was a goodbye, but it wasn’t. in reality, dan longed for phil not because of the sweet taste of his kiss, but because he knew that when they separated, it could be their last.

summary: dan grew up in a normal 1930s london family with his parents and little brother. everything was completely and utterly normal… until the bombs started dropping. When dan was fifteen his father went off to war, and when he was sixteen he and his brother hayden were sent off to a foster family in rural england. he looked up at the stars and couldn’t help but wonder how something that beautiful could exist in such a broken world. just when he thought things would never get better, dan met phil, and he became the shining star of his life. but when phil turned eighteen and went off to war, dan couldn’t help but wonder when, if ever, the stars would twinkle the same way again.

rating: t

genre: angst, fluff, history au, strangers to lovers, teenagers

whole fic warnings: warfare (not descriptive), bombings, fire, panic attacks, ptsd, epilepsy/seizures, homophobia, death, fighting/arguing chapter warnings: n/a

chapter word count: 3.4k total word count: 31.2k

read it on ao3 read it on wattpad fic masterlist

“I’ve been planning this day all morning,” Phil said, pride in his voice as they walked through the front door.

“Now I’m terrified.”

“It’s nothing bad! Just a sort of a... trip through time.”

Dan narrowed his eyes as he followed Phil up the stairs and to his room, where he’d taken Dan’s new radio from his room. It was playing upbeat jazz, and there were clothes laid out all over Phil’s bed.

“I think it’s about time for another dress up day,” Phil said with a playful smirk.

Dan couldn’t help but laugh as he thought back to the night he met Phil, when they’d gone driving and come back to Phil’s room so Dan could try on some of his clothes, since he hadn’t been able to bring along any of his own. It was the first good memory he had with Phil, as well as the one that reassured him that his relocation wouldn’t be so bad after all. “You’re really going to take me through all six months I’ve spent here, aren’t you?”

Phil grinned and simply nodded.

Most of the clothes they tried on were the same ones they’d done before, and they may have even used the same combinations, but it had a new dynamic they couldn’t quite describe that made the moment even more magical than before. There was a certain casual feel to the experience the first time they did it, but now that feeling had intensified. A lot had changed for them each, individually and as a duo, since they first played dress up six months earlier, and as they indulged comfortably in the often considered feminine act of creating their own outfits out of Phil’s clothes and modeling them for each other, it showed.

Each flung himself onto Phil’s bed, breath heavy as they glanced at all the clothes littering the floor around them. “We’re gonna have to clean that up, aren’t we?” Dan groaned, barely maintaining the energy to speak, let alone clean.

“I’ll have to pack most of it anyway,” Phil said, a painful reminder of the reason why they were having this extravagant day. There was a moment’s silence before Phil recognized the awkwardness and sat up, clapping his hands. “Time for activity number two!”

He took off down the stairs, and Dan sighed, still almost out of breath, and pulled himself out of bed to follow him. He was met by the front door flung wide open to the hot, summer day. Dan suspiciously stepped outside and down the steps into the grass, glancing around the yard but finding no one. Suddenly, he heard a noise to his right, and turned just in time to get sprayed in the chest with a thick stream of water. “What the-” He looked down at his chest and up at the culprit. Unsurprisingly, Phil stood a few feet away from him holding a water hose and grinning from ear to ear.

Dan was hit again, this time from behind, and he pivoted to see Hayden holding his own hose. There was another hose at his side that he picked up and taunted at Dan, who immediately got the hint and moved towards Hayden to take the hose. Apprehensive, he quickly snatched it from his brother’s hand and put some distance in between the two of them.

The air was silent for a moment, each of them staring each other down in the heat. “Every man for himself!” Phil shouted, roaring his hose into action. Dan ducked to miss his shot, swinging his hose in every which direction in hopes to hit one of his two opponents. Meanwhile, Hayden was charging straight for him, hose on full power. The force of the water stung his skin, but he was laughing anyway. This wasn’t the sort of summer activity one could do in London.

“Howells attack!” Dan shouted, nodding at Hayden as they both charged at Phil a few minutes into the fight. Phil’s eyes widened as he attempted to fight them off, but he stood no chance against the two of them, and eventually his hose slipped from his hands, Dan picking it up.

Dan and Hayden gave each other mischievous looks before turning back to Phil and turning all three hoses on him, knocking him to the ground. Dan strode over to him, placing his foot on Phil’s chest in dominance. “I am victorious!”

Phil glared up at him. “Dan, you’re soaked.”

“But at least I don’t have a muddy footprint on my chest.”

Three showers later, Hayden was in his room, and Dan and Phil were sat in the living room in front of the family radio. “You know, Phil,” Dan said shortly after joining Phil in the room, having showered last. “I don’t remember having a water fight in the last six months.”

“Maybe not, but you can’t exactly have a snowball fight in the middle of the summer.”

The pieces of the puzzle clicked together in Dan’s head, and he remembered the countless snowball fights they had over the winter, the first of those being on his first full day in the countryside. “Touche.” He smiled remembering the winter afternoons. “You even got Hayden in on it.” He thought about that for a moment, and his smile faded. “Does Hayden know?”

Phil nodded. “I told him last night after everything happened. He was a bit upset, but I think he’ll be happy to have you back to himself.”

They each smiled a bit, but neither of them were happy. The day seemed to have fallen into that pattern; they were mostly happy, but every now and then they would have a particular moment in which they remembered the situation they were in, and all that happiness faded, only to return as soon as the day roared back into action.

“What’s next?” Dan asked, anxious to get back into the happy part.

“This.”

Dan stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“This. All our winter days beside the radio. Our dances, our talks, our everything.” Phil reached over and turned on the radio, tuning it to the jazz station. “That’s it.”

Dan settled into his armchair as the host spoke, but he wasn’t there long. As soon as the first song started playing, Phil jumped up and extended him a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Dan rolled his eyes, despite being impressed by Phil’s openly romantic question in the middle of the family room, his parents probably in the next room over. “Gladly.”

Despite the romantic nature of the proposal, when Dan stood up to dance, the song was far from romantic. It was a fast, upbeat song that inspired them both to dance independently yet still together. There were a few songs like this, and they continued along the same path, memories flooding their minds of past dances until they became weary. Luckily, as Dan was resigning himself to finally sit down, the next song was slow, and he close instead to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder.

The last time he’d ever slow danced with anyone was his primary school dance, and he didn’t even know how to do it, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the closeness of the two of them, Dan’s breath on Phil’s neck and Phil’s hands around Dan’s midsection. It was the dance they never had; it was the dance they may never have again.

Tears rolled down Dan’s face as the song ended and he picked his head up to put his lips to Phil’s; it was a short kiss, but it was an important one.

“It’s okay,” Phil said, wiping tears from Dan’s cheek as he struggled not to shed his own.

“I know,” Dan said with a genuine smile. They were sad tears, but they were just as much happy tears. He was going to miss Phil more than he could ever imagine, but the second he came home, and Dan tried as hard as he could to convince himself that he would, they’d be able to dance for the rest of their lives. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A few recovery minutes later, they were outside in the yard again, but this time upon exiting they met Margo and Harold. They were dressed in their Sunday best, and each of them held a basket. “Happy Easter,” Margo said, handing her basket to Dan. Inside was a single egg. Dan turned to Phil, who was beaming.

“This time, don’t fall.”

And with that, he was off. Dan hesitated before realizing he was to compete against Phil and dashing off in the opposite direction.

“You have fifteen minutes!” Harold yelled, wrapping his arm around his wife to watch the boys search. Dan had never been much good at egg hunts back in London, and it was common knowledge that his previous one hadn’t ended very well, but his competitive side came out as he ran around the yard searching for eggs. The fifteen minutes passed faster than he would have thought, and they were called back to the front door.

Dan glanced into Phil’s basket and saw almost twice as many eggs as were in his own. “Oh, come on!” Dan scrunched up his face in fake anger. “Stupid home field advantage.”

Phil gave him a cheeky grin, placing his hand on his shoulder and clearing his throat in preparation to do the best possible Dan impression. “I am victorious!”

Dan rolled his eyes as Phil took his basket and gave them both to Margo, who trailed Harold back inside. Phil led Dan over to the truck and opened the driver’s door. “Your chariot awaits.”

Dan sighed, rolling his eyes for what must have been the millionth time as he climbed into the truck and drove into the field. “You better be ready to drive,” Phil said after a couple laps. “Because this time we’re going on the road.”

Dan turned to Phil in fear and disbelief, not because he was unconfident driving, but because he didn’t have a permit to drive on roads. “Is that legal?”

“Technically speaking, no, but most people here don’t particularly care. Just don’t tell my dad.”

Dan laughed, but he was still nervous. “Can’t you drive?”

“Nope,” Phil declared. “All part of the memory trip.”

Dan groaned as he pulled out of the gate and onto the road. He coasted down the country road, fairly comfortable. “See! You’re doing great! Phil exclaimed. He gave Dan little notes as they went along, reminding him of a time when Phil actually taught him to drive rather than just sitting in the passenger seat as he drove them up to the tree and back.

“Where am I going?” Dan asked as they neared the town.

“Take a right,” Phil said, overly laid back. Dan had never driven with any traffic, let alone the town, which was quite busy for countryside standards. Dan tried to ignore the driving anxiety and think instead of the surprise. “Left,” Phil said. There were only a few destinations on the cut-through road, but Dan still couldn’t figure out which one. “Here we are!” Phil clapped excitedly as Dan turned into the restaurant.

Dan probably should have assumed dinner, as it was 7:00 in the evening, but he still wasn’t ready for it. “Phil, we’re both barely dressed. I was planning to wear these to bed tonight.” Dan laughed at their clothes, which were probably better described as pajamas.

“So? It’s not like this is a fancy restaurant. It’s the most casual sit down place in town. Come on!” Phil shouted cheerily, hopping out of the truck and prompting Dan to do the same.

“Besides,” Phil said as they walked towards the door. “It’s like the date we never had.”

The ‘date they never had’ was absolutely different than anything they’d ever done before. Not only had the two of them never gone out to eat, but Phil had never cared less about keeping their relationship a secret. He wasn’t open, as that would be purely stupid, but he wasn’t near as reserved as he usually was. He was more open to joke around with Dan in public than ever before, and it probably had something to do with the fact that he was leaving indefinitely the next day, but Dan loved it.

It was an Italian restaurant, and, similar to their getups, they went casual and ordered a pizza. Dan didn’t realize how hungry he was until he got it, and they tore into it, demolishing the medium pizza in only an hour between the two of them.

Each of them picked up their last piece, and Phil reached out to stop Dan before he could take his first bite. “To us,” he said, extending his own slice of pizza. It took Dan a moment to figure out what the hell he was doing, but when he did, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“To us,” Dan repeated, giggling as he toasted the pizza slices and took a massive bite out of his respective slice.

They left the restaurant stuffed, and Phil agreed to drive home, but when they arrived back in the darkening yard, Phil didn’t stop. Instead he turned back through the gate and drove straight up the hill, parking beside the tree. Dan wasn’t expecting the move, but in hindsight it didn’t surprise him at all. What better way to end a flashback through their time together than on the hill looking up at the stars?

The stars weren’t out yet, but the sunset signaled that they would be arriving soon. Dan peeled himself off the seat, stomach still full of pizza, and followed Phil to the tree. He didn’t particularly want to start climbing in that state, but he knew it was worth it.

Phil was already up to their branch when Dan started making his way up and claimed his seat beside Phil. “This is it, isn’t it?” Dan asked, tearing his eyes from the sunset to make eye contact with Phil. “This is the end.”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “It is.”

A certain fear entered Dan’s stomach. He was surprised it had room with all the pizza, but it found all the space remaining and filled it with pure discomfort. In front of him, the sunset was beautiful, but he had a painful feeling telling him against every logical cell he had that it was his last. He knew he’d live to see another sunset, and so would Phil, but it felt like the universe would rip in half the moment he left.

Phil reached out and took Dan’s hand, placing them both on his lap. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I was just thinking that,” Dan said, leaving out the rest of the thought.

“Yeah,” Phil said, letting the air fall static. They sat, each of them admiring the sunset and indulging in their individual thoughts as their time ran out until finally Dan’s voice rang out.

“Let’s just cut to the chase, Phil. This is your last night here for God knows how long. We’re not just gonna spend it sitting here and watching the time go by. I love you, and I want to be with you tonight, not a silent shell of you.”

Phil turned to him, eyes wide. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting or you to say that.”

Suddenly, Phil was on top of him, and he was pushed back against the tree trunk. They could barely balance on the branch, but neither of them seemed to notice, both their focuses on the kiss they were both entranced by. They seemed to pull closer with every breath they took until Dan was sandwiched between Phil and the tree. “Phil,” Dan moaned, distracted.

“Mmm.”

“Phil, there’s a branch in my spine,” Phil immediately backed off of him, allowing him to rescind down the trunk and back to the grass. By then, the world around them was dark, but they were more used to the dark environment than either of them would like to admit. “Well, come on!” Dan shouted up to Phil as he opened and climbed into the truck bed. Phil finally took the hint and scurried down the tree and over to Dan, where they picked up right where they left off.

That was something Dan valued about his relationship with Phil; they’d managed to get themselves into so many awkward situations throughout their friendship that now that they were dating, it took a hell of a lot to make something awkward.

And so they were left to themselves in the truck bed. No people, no branches, no distractions, just them. And Dan couldn’t get enough of it. Like many moments of the day, it wasn’t even the physical contact that had him on the edge of his seat. It wasn’t sitting in Phil’s lap, hands wrapped around his back as he placed soft, wet kisses up and down Dan’s neck. It wasn’t Phil’s hands in his hair as he gasped for air. It wasn’t urges he had to repress in the best interest of them both. It was just Phil. It was just the two of them there, for the last time in the perceivable future. It was a goodbye, but it wasn’t. In reality, Dan longed for Phil not because of the sweet taste of his kiss, but because he knew that when they separated, it could be their last.

Dan was reluctant to drop to his back and rest his head on Phil’s shoulder, but eventually he gave in and turned his gaze to the stars. It was like separating two pieces of paper recently glued together; they didn’t want to come apart, and they might have broken a bit as they did, but it certainly worked, and they were individual again.

So Dan laid on Phil, who ran his fingers through Dan’s curls. The only sight left for them was the stars overhead. “Dan, have you ever heard of the Big Dipper?”

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it in class before, but I’ve never actually seen it.”

“Look up there,” Phil said, pointing to a cluster of stars in the shape of a spoon. “That’s the Big Dipper.”

Dan nodded. “It sure is.”

“You know something cool about the Big Dipper? Or any stars, for that matter?”

“Hmm?”

“No matter where you are, you can still see them. If you sit out here and I sit out at night wherever I am, we’ll be looking at the same sky. The same stars, the same moon, the same everything. It’ll be like we’re in the same place.” Phil took Dan’s hand and placed something cold in it. Dan looked down to find the star Phil had given him the previous night. “I got it from your room.” Dan clenched it in his fist as Phil took both of his hands in his, staring into his eyes. In the darkness, Dan could only really see half of Phil’s face, but his eyes, twinkling like the stars overhead, were clear as day. Tears welled up in his own eyes, and he didn’t even try to stop them from falling. “I’ll always be with you. I hope you know that.”

Dan nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks. Even Phil’s eyes were beginning to glisten as he looked into Dan’s.

“I love you, Dan. So much. And I’m going to go out there and fight every single day to keep you safe and get back to you.” He paused, wiping some tears from his eyes and laughing at his own weakness. “That’s all I care about.”

Dan’s tears turned to sobs as he fell into Phil’s arms, and the sobs began to echo from them both. “I love you, Phil.”

“I love you too,” he said, pulling back and giving Dan a soft, short kiss. It was messy and teary, but it was real, and it was them, and Dan knew it was the last one they would have before he left, leaving him with every cell in his body wishing for more. “I always will.”

[wulfies-corner]

Black Eyes (Demon!V/Kim Taehyung x Reader) AU 4

A hunter family, plus a demonic curse, plus two lovesick teenagers on opposite sides of a secret war. One maths equation one might not want to answer.

It wasn’t long after that when you finally realised you had clumsily stumbled into the lives of an entire nest of demons.

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten]

“You can’t be serious, can you?!” Dean exclaims as you race up the stairs by the fireplace up to your tiny, nearly empty bedroom, backpack in hand. Dean followed you, but in the paranoia of getting trapped inside another of the many devil’s snare paintings all around the house, Taehyung stood on the shoe mat, occasionally peeking out of the window beside the front door.

“Yes. I’m very serious about this, Dean.” You state in return, slamming your backpack on the floor. You emptied it of anything that you brought from school, mostly useless things as you kept your books in your personal locker. You then began to stuff it with as many shirts and jeans, socks and underwear as you could. Finally, the scruffy yet soft teddy bear your mother bought for you when you were a baby was stuffed in against the zipper.

“You know that if you leave he’ll find you. He’ll find out about the demon’s nest and he will kill all seven of them. Maybe even you for fraternising with them. For falling in love with one.” Dean’s voice was growing softer. He was worried. You sling your backpack over your shoulder, whipping your body back to face Dean. “Does it look like I care?” You snarl. “I’ll be fine, okay, Dean? I know how to handle myself.”

“If you did, why was I sent here?” He asked, tapping his foot on the creaky floor with his arms crossed over his chest. You push past him, stomping down the stairs and retreating to Taehyung who wrapped his arms around you, silently and defensively.

“Because my father thinks I’m incompetent. He thinks that I never listened to what he said, that I just wanted to frolick in flowery meadows like all the normal girls my age. He thinks I’ll just drop dead if I lay my eyes on a demon!”

“All you’ve ever wanted was to be normal,” Dean comments. “You’re exactly like Sam, (Y/N). You’re going to prove him right.” “Will I? Dean, I get that you care. That’s nice. But since you haven’t murdered Taehyung… it just goes to show that you’re on my side. Stop trying to get me to be like you and dad and uncle John. Stop trying to stay on the neutral ground and help us. If you’re not going to, just take your shiny car and get the fuck out,” you spit fire, gripping Taehyung’s free hand as his arm tightens around you.

“None of us wants to die,” Taehyung says, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re…” “We’re all just kids, Dean. Are you going to help us or not?” You ask harshly.

Dean stops for a moment, sighing. His eyebrows creased. “Fine. You know, you’re more like Sam than you think,” he mumbles, you turning the handle of the door and leading the two men outside. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“I think being like your brother gives me a bit of an edge,” you comment as you all climbed into the Impala. “Don’t take advantage of it.”

The ride to Taehyung’s was awkwardly silent. Dean didn’t even put on any music, which was the most out-of-character thing for him to do, or, well, not do. You couldn’t blame him. What happened in the past half hour was heavier than a lot of the things the both of you have seen, even in the lives of being hunters. Dean knew that what he was doing was against his… well, more like his dad’s moral code. Letting any Supernatural being live, to let them grip and hug someone that he loved so dearly, to let them take her into their home and have her leave his life within the blink of an eye. He tightly gripped the steering wheel and forgot to flip the turn signal twice while he was lost in thought.

You could barely see his facial expressions through the rearview mirror, but you could tell that he was running through scenarios as he drove. He would give you eye contact whenever he asked for a direction, but other than that, he looked like he was focused on the road. You knew that Dean still had his gun on him, ready to grab it and shoot Taehyung at any moment. You bit your lip out of pure nervousness, gripping Taehyung’s hand tightly.

Taehyung was also uncharacteristically quiet. Not that you could blame him either. In that short amount of time, he came a cat’s hair close to death more than once all because he got stuck in some hick’s trap in his crazy house with his crazy nephew and the girl he loved.

‘It had to be you,’ he thought to himself over and over. Never sarcastic, but determined. He knew that from the day you walked into that Biology classroom at the start of the year. He knew that from when he first said ‘Hello, do you want to join my cooking group?’ in 5th period. He knew that it had to be you when he smiled and said ‘Sorry to startle you. My name’s Kim Taehyung, and I’m going to be your friend. What’s your name?’ It was always you.

“Okay, we’re here,” Dean said flatly. “The one on the end, right?”

“Yes… thank you, Dean.”

The three of you got out of the car, Taehyung making his way silently through the lawn, stopping at the front door, watching you cling to Dean’s chest.

“I love you, Dean,” you whisper, an iron-clad grip on the jacket he was wearing. “I love you so much.”

It took Dean a moment to return your hug. He patted your hair and ran his other hand soothingly up and down your back. When you separated, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, Champ.”

“I’ll miss you.”

Dean smiled sombrely at you. “I know.” “Be safe.” “You know I will. You too, promise, okay?”

“I promise.” Somehow, you felt that your promise wasn’t really a promise. Something lingering in the back of your mind, a dread that had wedged its way into your heart. But, you still smiled. “Tell Sam I love him too.” Dean scoffed. “If I ever see him again,” he added, taking your hand in his and squeezing it gently before letting go. He turned towards his car and got in, tears forming in your eyes as you heard the door shut, music flowing out a few seconds later.

You forced yourself to smile as you stood still, watching Dean back out of the driveway. His eyes were briefly locked with yours, and you could hear the faint tune of Led Zeppelin's song ‘Thank You’ playing on his radio. You lifted a hand briefly to wave, the image of his sleek car driving off into the distance burning into your memory. You knew from the moment that his car left your sight that you would never see him again.

“Let’s get you inside,” Taehyung called. You were barely able to move, sniffling and allowing teardrops to run down your cheeks. Your arms were brought from their passive places at your side to hug yourself. Everything that could have gone wrong today went wrong.

Today you abandoned you nearly lost your best friend, someone you loved more dearly than anyone else. Today you lost your family - your cousins Sam and Dean. Today you lost any sense of safety. Your heart was broken and all you could do was cry. You felt Taehyung’s hands on your shoulders, gently turning you and walking you to the door of the house. You were a wreck, barely able to walk by yourself.

As soon as you were inside, you were full on sobbing. Taehyung bent down to untie the laces of your shoes and help step out of them, slipping off your backpack and leading you to the couch in the living room where you had woken up that morning.

Everyone was sitting in the living room except for Yoongi, all of them standing up and walking over to you and Taehyung. “What happened?” Jin asked, concerned.

“She had to leave home, I… it’s a long story,” Taehyung said, taking your hand. “It’s okay if she stays here, right?” “Of course,” Jin answers. “It might be a little cramped, though.”

You looked up at Jin, eyes puffy and cheeks still wet with tears. “T-t-thank you,” you say, voice raspy, stuttering and hiccuping as you cried. Taehyung wiped your tears away with the sleeve of his shirt, guiding you to sit down. By the time you and Taehyung were sitting down on the couch, Taehyung passing a tissue to you, Namjoon had made his way to your backpack, unzipping it. “Um… (Y/N)... why is there an - ow! Why is there a silver dagger in your backpack?!” Namjoon exclaimed, to your eyes widening. You forgot that you had kept Dean’s knife. “She’s got silver?!” Jimin exclaimed, standing up. “Taehyung, what did you tell her?!”

Soon, all of the boys (strangely except for Yoongi), were standing significant ways away from you at the other side of the room. You only looked up at them weakly, not able to form an excuse.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I don’t know how to…”

“Just tell us,” Hoseok stated as soft as he could, but you could hear the dread in his voice. You knew that all of them thought they were in danger. “I… I never wanted my life,” you say, wiping your own tears away now. Still, your heart was being ripped into a million pieces. You had gotten your hopes up. You were going to lose the family you had only realized you had gained a few hours ago. “I guess… old habits die hard.”

Jimin looked over at Taehyung. “She knows, doesn’t she?”

Taehyung nodded sombrely. “Yeah.” “Don’t you know how dangerous this is?! I knew there was something off about her,” Jungkook commented, venom in his words.

“Stop,” Taehyung pleaded as the last of your tears fell. “She left her family for us! She saved my life! Her cousin had a gun to my forehead and she stopped him. If it weren’t for her, I’d be dead!”

“No, don’t defend me, Tae. I understand. I’ll just go,” you dejectedly stand, pulling away harshly as Taehyung attempted to grab your arm. “I’ve caused enough trouble. I’ll just disappear so I can’t hurt anyone else.” As you make your way to the door, you grab your silver knife from your backpack, looking at Namjoon from the corner of your eye as he was still recoiling from the burn.

“(Y/N), wait-” Taehyung called as you gripped the door handle and pushed it open, ready to return to the front porch of your home where your father would find your dead body rotting in the sun. It would be better that way.

“You idiots!” You hear Taehyung yell from the house. “Now look at what you’ve done! All of you said that you wanted me to find someone to spend my life with so we can all begin to forget this whole fucking mess. You even let Yoongi have a human girl, and what do you do with the girl I choose?! Fucking kick her out after she saves all our asses and drive her to think she has no other way out than killing herself! I hate you all!”

You only kept walking. You had finally decided. You weren’t going to be a hunter, and you were never going to be normal. Nobody would love you if they found out the truth, and you were done being anti-social, a recluse, starving and miserable. It would be better to end it all now before your heart broke even more. You could only ever live as a half-life, never belonging anywhere except a grave, no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise.

“(Y/N)!” Taehyung yelled, chasing after you.

“Leave me alone, Taehyung,” you don’t even look up from the ground as you continue dejectedly walking away. “Please, don’t leave me again,” he pleaded, running in front of you, turning to face you and holding out his arms. “I can’t bear watching you walk away!”

“What do you want me to do, Taehyung?!” You shout. He recoils slightly with a frown. “Live out my life as some sort of monster? To live as someone that your brothers are afraid of, to be a fucking Winchester in the midst of half-demons?!” You jabbed a finger in his direction, tears swimming in your eyes. “The moment Namjoon found my knife, it was over. There’s no chance, and I should never have thought there would be.” You showed your knife to him. “Let me go.” “(Y/N), don’t-”

“Let me go! Find someone else! Find someone who isn’t a pathetic excuse for a human being! I’m a murderer, Taehyung! I’m delusional, undesirable, how can you even love some monster like me?!” You raise your knife, flipping it in your hand so the tip is pointed at your chest. Your voice lowered to a whisper, “let me go or I’ll stab my own heart out in your front garden!”

Taehyung was shocked. Through the growing blur in your eyes, you could see the terror and heartbreak wrought upon his face. “I’m not going to let you go, (Y/N),” he sobbed. “I love you. I can’t just let you go, I can’t just watch you die. You forget,” he paused, the blackness of his demon eyes returning. “I’m a pathetic monster too.”

A piercing emotional pain struck your chest, but you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “I’ve been ready to die since I shot my mom. I watched her die, Taehyung. I watched her die and it was all my fault! I still see the blood running from what was left of her skull every night, I can’t- I can’t-” you lift the dagger, screwing your eyes shut and plunging the dagger toward your chest, but the impact never came.

Taehyung cried out in pain. Opening your eyes, you saw Taehyung’s pitch black eyes, his face contorted with agony. Your eyes trailed down to his hands, which were steaming heavily, blood beginning to seep from his grip. You could feel your jaw drop.

“I love you, (Y/N). Please… stay alive for a little while longer?” He attempts to smile, groaning at the pain of gripping the blade of the knife even harder as you attempt to pull it away from him. “I love you, no matter what happened to you.”

For a second, you snapped out of your trance. You’re full on sobbing now, still gripping onto the handle of the knife. “Taehyung, I-” A few seconds later, a pair of arms seize your own, holding you back and causing you to let go of the knife, allowing Taehyung to drop it.

“Let me go!” You screech, tears finally spilling over the rims of your eyes as you watch Taehyung drop the knife, holding his bloody hands out to look at them. “Just let me die!”

“Calm down, (Y/N)!” You heard Jungkook call from behind you. However, you didn’t listen. You only continued to struggle against Jungkook’s hold as he dragged you back into the house, only to bash your head against the front door’s side frame, causing you to black out.

~~

“You’ll never be a true Winchester,” your father spat, slapping you across the face. When you turned back to face him, he shoved a picture, that picture, of your mother in your face. “Look at what you’ve done!”

The picture was gruesome, familiar. An overwhelming sense of guilt washed over you, more tears spilling down your cheeks. There she was, a corpse in front of you. Standing behind your father, the photographer, you remembered that you were holding the gun that killed her, a large rifle that should never have been used at close range. You had equipped it with a modified Colt bullet, never imagining that you would have to use it against your own mother.

Half of her head had been blown away. Debris of her brain, eyes and pieces of her skull were littered about the room in the photo- some of it cut off by the edge of the frame. Most of her nose and mouth were still intact, as well as her torso- which was only covered by a tattered sweater which the demon possessor had ripped to perfectly even ribbons for fun. She was covered in blood, and so was the floor. When that picture was taken- so were you.

Every time your father tied you to that chair and forced you to look at the photo, you would retch in your throat, always failing to force it back down. Your memory returned to that very moment every night, the rain of blood drenching you even further than what had transpired before that moment: Croatoan demons had been throwing themselves at you all day, blood spewing out of their chests where you had shot them. Every night you could vividly see, vividly relive that day.

“It’s your fault,” he would say repeatedly. “It’s your fault she’s dead! You should have died in her place!”

~~ “(Y/N)~” your mother’s voice rang mischievously, approaching you slowly as you aim your rifle at her, standing at the other end of the cabin. “You’re going to shoot your own mother?”

“If it’s to free her of you, I am!” You shouted, voice wavering. “I’ll kill you! I’ll save hundreds of lives!” “Kill me? Oh, honey,” your mother stood up straight, already nearly naked, clothes torn to shreds. On her chest were newly bleeding wounds reading CROATOAN. “I’d like to see you try.”

You cocked your weapon once more. “I’m not joking!” You screech, finger now on the trigger. You were ready to shoot.

“Aw, look at the little bitty baby spawn of Winchester,” the demon giggled, flailing about. Your mother’s arm snapped as the demon hit it against a ruined fireplace, going limp in the opposite way it should. “She’s gonna kill her mommy! Did your cousins ever tell you what happened to theirs? Seems like a stroke of bad luck, I’d say.” “Shut the fuck up!”

“Naughty, naughty! How old are you again? 13? Strong words for a child.”

“I said, shut the FUCK UP!”

The demon caused your mother to stumble even further toward you, eventually pressing her forehead against the barrel of your gun. “Maybe instead of running your pretty little mouth, you should shoot me already,” the demon cackled again. “If you’re chickening out, I understand. Maybe I’ll come rape you and see if you change your mi-”

In a scream of rage, you pulled the trigger. Your mother’s head exploded before you, the black smoke of the demon possessing her lit up in flames, mixing in sulphur and ashes to the rain of blood now splattered on your face.

Previous: Chapter Three

[dustin-parrish-blog]

From Outer Space - Part 1 | Izel & Dustin

Date: Sunday, 27th August, 2017

Warnings: Gore, vomiting

Ripley: How do we kill it, Ash? There's gotta be a way of killing it. How? How do we do it? Ash: You can't. Parker: That's bullshit. Ash: You still don't understand what you're dealing with, do you? The perfect organism. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility.

- Alien (1979)

It was only reluctantly that Dustin rode his bike all the way north to the Overlook Drive-in Theatre. He wasn't on a mission to watch a movie, no (it would be more than lame to go to a drive-in theatre and watch something sitting on your bike). He needed to get a job. After all, maybe it was a bit unfair to let Lea pay for most of Aria's supplies. He really needed to earn some money as well. He'd felt incredibly lucky when he'd seen the poster at the store that the theatre was looking for more employees. He enjoyed movies a lot, and this job couldn't turn out horrible, right? When he chained up his bike and made his way towards the concession building where he would talk to the manager for his interview, he caught a brief glimpse of the screen. He couldn't see much, except that someone was running through some dark tunnels... the sign to his left showed that this was Alien (1979). Ah. A classic - just one he'd never watched before.

The interview went well. It didn't seem like they were looking for any specific qualifications, since Dustin had pretty much none. They just wanted someone who was available most weekends and wouldn't object to being paid nothing more than minimum wage. Now and then, Dustin could hear yelps or screams from the visitors outside, but at some point, he almost had a feeling they were getting much more frequent and louder. It had to be an especially frightening part of the movie. "Jesus," Dustin remarked as a piercing screech nearly shattered the window. "Are they always this loud?"

There was a strange shine coming out of the Overlook cinema. Izel'd never been one for the cinema, especially not since it had been replaced, and at first she assumed it was the cinema screen. But no, the shine danced in her periphery, and whites and blues and a black light she knew human eyes were not meant to see. But it was too big by far to be an aura. Frowning, she stepped through the gate with a concerned quizzical look. A porter asked her to buy a ticket but she waved him away with a promise to be out in a few minutes. Around the other side of the concession building she saw it fully, flickering in and out like it was shining through a crack in a doorway. There were people milling around, even a couple walking straight through the light like it wasn't even there. On the screen a black worm erupted from a man's chest, eliciting a few brief screens, but no one blinked twice at the slit of light hovering nearby

"Excuse me, ma'am, if you're going to stay you really need to pay..." The young porter said, approaching her quickly and quietly.

"Can't you see it?" She asked, pointing right at the light. "It's not a person, I don't understand where it's coming from."

"Uuhhh, see what?" The porter looked at where she was pointing and back at her, eyebrows raised skeptically. "Um, security, I need helping escorting a lady off the premises, I think she's confus-" Izel didn't hear the last word as the light slammed open into a wide shimmering pool of liquid light, unlike anything else she'd ever seen. Now people were staring at it and screaming.

A large stick or pole started emerging, seven foot long with fine bristles covering from head to toe. A second joined it just as the first bent sharply downward. Then a third and a fourth, tapping the ground and stepping forward. Stepping, that was so not the word she wanted to be associating with this, but it fit the moment it flitted into her mind. Time seemed to stop as a giant body started to emerge, with six beady eyes and pincers that could hypothetically slice through cars. Or not so hypothetically.

Izel screamed. "RUN!"

Dustin’s manager, Craig according to his nametag, chuckled. "Yes, they can get very scared sometimes during the Sunday shows. But as long as it's this kind of screams everything is a-ok and nothing to be concerned about."

Dustin frowned. There were a couple of more screams now, loud and terrified, and most importantly, the screaming didn't stop. That was odd. Normally, a movie had maybe one scary scene followed by another moment of suspense. This was more than strange. "Sorry. I really think there is something wrong," Dustin protested.

Craig shook his head. "Don't worry, boy, after working here for a while you will see that this is-"

The glass of the window next to him burst into a thousand pieces as long, black thing pierced through the window. Craig's eyes flew wide open in terror before the thing sliced right through his chest and pinned him to the opposite wall like a dart. Dustin, who had cowered down the second the window burst, tried his best not making a single sound. Because this thing... there were bristles on it. And it seemed to be alive... like this was its leg. Fuck. How big was this thing? And where did it come from? It was only after the leg moved back, leaving Craig to collapse to the ground, that Dustin moved towards him, feeling for a pulse. "Come on, come on," he whispered to himself despite the giant gaping hole in his stomach leaking blood didn't look good. There was no pulse. Hands shaking, Dustin got up from the ground. He tightened his grip around the doorknob before opening the door to see for himself what the hell was going on outside.

Spiders. Why did it always have to be spiders? Why did it have to be spiders that made her feel like that ant in Bug's Life? Izel dropped to the ground as a leg swung over her head, shards of glass dropping from its bristles. Jumping to her feet she sprinted to the side of the concessions building, hiding from the portal. If anything else came through she didn't want it seeing her first. While at first the spider was slow and disorientated, skittering fast for something that could take on an elephant, but as it got its bearing its eyes focused in on the glimmering green beetles around it, ejecting a giant silk line and trapping a car inside it. Izel watched with her fist in her mouth as it tipped the car over, rolling it over and over and sealing it in a silver nest. She only saw one flash of red inside the car as the metal crumpled and crushed. She felt nauseous as it clearly pushed the now mumified car aside for later, looking for new prey. A door nearby swung open as it happened to step in her direction. The taste of lavender filled her mouth. She spun and spotted purple, and instinctively grabbed the boy's arm as she ran and hid around the furthest side of the building from both the portal and the giant spider. He had a little blood on his hands. Eyes wide, she demanded "Are you okay?" Something was buzzing, and with every step of spider the trashcan nearby rattled.

Whatever it was that Dustin imagined to find outside the door, it wasn't a giant spider cocoon an entire car in its silky web. What the hell. Before Dustin could dart back inside (even though technically he knew that staying inside the building wouldn't help him, as Craig's fate showed) something grabbed his arm. Dustin let out a loud scream, but as he was dragged towards the side of the building he noticed that no, this wasn't another dinosaur-sized spider, this was a human being, a woman. Dustin gave her a panicked nod. He wasn't okay, not at all, but she probably wasn't asking him about his psychological wellbeing right now. And he wasn't injured, he'd gotten lucky. The glass shatters easily could have blinded him. "And you? Are you hurt?" he asked. Fuck his promise, if this woman was injured, he was damn well going to heal her right then and there. A loud, screaming noise of terror made him freeze, and he darted around the corner to see. This wasn't just a spider, no. There was this thing - it was huge, and its tail was red, but it had wide, nearly transparent wings. In its legs, it was clutching a screaming woman with dark brown hair. Before Dustin could take his next breath, the huge thing - it looked like a dragonfly in some ways - rose up into the sky before the woman came crashing down onto an old pick-up truck, denting its roof.

"NOO!" The scream was coming from a teenage girl, holding onto the hood of another car. Her shirt, originally white, was stained dark red at the front, and so were her hands. She stumbled forwards, then fell to her knees. Heart racing like an army of elephants was galloping inside his ribcage, Dustin darted towards her.

"Sorry sorry sorry!" Izel hissed at his scream, pressing her fingers briefly against his lips to stop him before they noticed. Did insects even have a sense of hearing? Did monster insects? She didn't let go but eased her grip, hoping it became something among the lines of comforting. "No, not yet, but we need to get out of here. Look, I have to ask, do you know what caused it? What kind of W-" Izel tore away from the young man - the boy - and followed him around the corner at the sound of the scream, already too invested in getting the kid out of this alive, especially if he had something to do with it, however accidentally. Her heart stopped as a body crashed to the ground, 60 feet away from the silk wrapped car. Her blue and pink aura went out like a broken fuse as her skull smashed, contents dripping out like a dropped egg. All the king's horses... Izel felt sick. The kid was suddenly nowhere near, sprinting to a girl with a wavering aura. "Kid, no!" Izel warned, reaching for her phone only to discover it wasn't in her pocket. Probably forgotten at home. No help was coming, not from anyone who actually dealt with monsters. Gunshots began to ring across the cinema as gun owners open fired, but the spider's exoskeleton didn't even chip, but instead just drew its owner's ire. Eyes fixed on the spider, Izel hurried to hide by a nearby abandoned car, away from the open exposed pair of teenagers she was watching, the sickening dread of an awful certainty spreading in her stomach. But there was no way to warn him.

When the woman had asked him about whether he knew where these monsters were coming from, Dustin shot her a confused glance. Why would she assume that he knew anything more than she did? He had just wanted to get a job. Well, at least she wasn’t hurt.

Blood kept seeping out of the poor girl’s stomach, and as he got closer, he recognised her face. Mary Cooper. She hated doing maths in her head, but she was almost the quickest in the entire class if you gave her a calculator. Her perfume had made Dustin’s sneeze on numerous occasions. They’d never really talked. “Don’t worry,” Dustin whispered as he kneeled down. “Everything is going to be okay.” He lifted her shirt which had begun to stick to her skin due to all the blood. This was not the time to worry about privacy, and they both knew that. When he saw the wound, he was nearly sick. He’d seen blood before, he’d seen scratches and stabs and even ripped stitches. But never anything like this. He pressed his hand to the skin right next to the gaping wound. Fuck, how did he even- How could he fix this when he didn’t know exactly what needed fixing? How deep was this wound? What needed to be repaired? This went way beyond the first layers of skin.

“Dustin?” Mary’s voice was faint. Hopeless. “My mum. That thing just-“

“Shh,” Dustin said again, closing his eyes as he poured magic through his hand. He tried to concentrate on what was wrong, on all the tissues that needed fixing, but the sound of gunfire drew his head out of what he was doing. Fuck. He needed to do this. Now. Before that giant dragonfly are that spider came back to snack on them. “Come on, come on,” Dustin chanted to himself, redirecting blood flow, trying to do something. Eyes shut tightly, he managed to close top layer of skin at the injury site.

Mary’s eyes fell shut.

Clank. Clank. Crash. Izel tensed with every smash, looking around the side of the Chevrolet she was crouched behind as the Spider dragged an SUV through the dirt, a crash shaking the dirt each time it was turned to be wrapped. The doors were sealed shut with silk like steel, but the windows were rolled down and a middle aged man inside with a brilliant green aura was hacking at it with a pocket knife every time he found his balance, trying desperately to escape. Swallowing, she looked back at the two teenagers, the boy she'd dragged out of the way focusing hard on the girl's exposed stomach. Izel didn't need to see her insides to know it was bad, and even as the guy's aura started glowing warmer, purple flitting around the turquoise and fresh splatters of black, the girl's faded, flickering briefly under his administrations, but then flashed out too. Izel gagged, and carefully crept forward. He'd seemed to know her and grief was one heck of a paralytic. "Look, um, you need to go. We need to leave." People were pouring out at every exit, and she didn't want to be the last fish in the barrel. If he didn't come... Izel was pretty sure she'd leave him.

"Come on, wake up. Don't go to sleep now!" Dustin instructed his classmate, taking his hand from her stomach to shake her shoulders. She didn't open her eyes, and her body shook moved obediently in the rhythm of his shaking. "Fuck!" When he lifted his hands, two bloody handprints on her shoulder marked where he'd touched her. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice talking to him, but it was just the woman who'd grabbed him earlier. "Are you sure? I can't just- I mean, maybe she will wake-" In the middle of his sentence, he pressed his fingers to her neck. No pulse. "And if she is- we can't just leave her, right? Those things are gonna get back and what if they eat her?" He jumped at the sudden whirring of the giant dragonfly making her way across the theatre ground, grabbing one of the last people in line by its feet.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm sure." The words caught in her throat. Izel wanted to slap his hand away, wasting valuable time feeling for a pulse he wouldn't find. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. It was getting closer. Her heart pounded faster in her chest, trying to escape her and get to safety itself. "We have to. Unless you want them to eat you??" She put an urgent hand on his shoulder, looking up at the dragonfly up above again. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry, but unless you have something impressive up your sleeve we have to go now!"

Dustin shook his head. No, he didn't want them to eat him, or her. But it felt wrong to just leave her like that. She'd just died, a couple of moments ago, if they brought her to a doctor or a skilled witch or someone like that, maybe they could help? But then, trying anything like that, and he might as well die himself. "Okay," Dustin murmured as he felt her hand on his shoulder. If only he'd known how to fix a wound like that. If only he'd practiced more, if he was more skilled in anatomy... But for now, he needed to get out. Reluctantly, he pulled away, awkwardly getting on his feet. His legs were shaking badly, and for a second he worried they would not bear his weight. But they did. He ducked underneath the next car. "Do we... do we make a run for it? Or try to sneak off?" he whispered. Right now was a painful reminder of how useless he was in these situations.

Izel took a deep breath as he stood up, looking at him mournfully before diving for cover by a blue mini. "That is a really, really good question," Izel answered, scanning through the glass for other auras. Several were crowded around the entrance, trying to squeez around or over two abandoned cars, parked as if the drivers wouldn't let the other go first and instead had abandoned them, the gates completely knocked. In the other direction, the dragonfly was collecting a... a nest, a nest of dead bodies staining dented cars red. In a couple, she could just about see the outline of dead bodies in the cars too, where impacts had crushed them. "Sneak - fast- until we get to the exit, then run like hell. My home's not far, it's safer." The car they were crouched by bounced as the ground shook from the spider's step and the car the dead child was lying next to was dragged away by spider silk. Izel bolted, running three cars further, hoping he was following her, and glanced again for the dragonfly. Of the two, that one was the most inescapable. Her eyes caught the screen, showing a young woman running through metal hallways from an unseen terror. Where her waist should have been, a big red stain coated the screen. Izel swallowed, looked at Dustin, and ran the next stage, illuminated by the red sunshine pouring from the portal.

Sneak fast? Dustin wasn't sure if he could do that. Most of the time, whenever he had to move fast, it couldn't exactly be called sneaking. But he nodded. If he wanted to get out of there alive, he needed to follow this woman's lead. And he didn't even know her name - though now didn't seem like a good time to ask. As the spider got closer, Dustin pressed his hand to his mouth to stop himself from making any noise, and then quickly pulled away again as he smelled the blood on his hands. Fuck. He had to concentrate hard on not throwing up. When the woman made a run for it, he followed her without second thought, he just needed to get away. Frowning, Dustin's eyes followed the woman's gaze. The movie was still running... Doing his best to make his shaking legs follow his command, he ran the woman. The exit was close now... And after they were through, they would have to run. Dustin swallowed. Running wasn't his thing, the asthma making it impossible to keep up tempo for any time, and it wasn't like he was in good condition, either. "If I can't keep up," he whispered. "You need to run."

Izel pun to look it, eyes stern, scanning his face. "Then you better keep up, okay? You've got this, you're running hot on adrenaline." She'd drag him if she had to, she hoped. It was easier to envision yourself a hero than a coward. "Ready? Run!" She grabbed his wrist and set off into a deep sprint, holding tight as she squeezed through the gap between the cars and onto the open road. She looked back to make sure she still had the boy in her hand, the slick blood on his hands and wrists spreading to hers, but they couldn't stop yet. Something like a dog sized pill bug climbed over the cards and scuttled towards them at breakneck speeds, forcing them to sprint again. Izel could feel Dustin's grip slipping in her hand as she outpaced him, forcing herself to slow down to stay with him as the store front came into view. "Nearly there, come on!"

Adrenaline wasn't going to open his lungs though, Dustin wanted to say, but before he could voice his protests the woman started running. Seeing as she had grabbed his wrist, he had no choice but to follow after her. He didn't look back, didn't try to see if one of the monsters was following them. If they did, they'd be fucked either way. He was too focused on getting further, running a bit longer, trying to breath regularly. Suddenly, the woman picked up more speed. Fuck, he couldn't keep up. The ache in his sides was becoming nearly unbearable fast, and his breathing was going faster, and more shallow. It felt as if one of the spiders had caught up with them and was squeezing his trachea shut with its spiny legs... Just a bit more. Dying off an ashma attack had to be more pleasant than getting eaten, anyway. "Com- ing," Dustin breathed in response of the woman's words, finally catching up with her.

Izel pulled the keys out of her pocket and half slammed into the store door, key fumbling in her hand before she heard the satisfactory click of it unlocking. She fell through as it swung open and dragged the boy through it so hard she pulled him off his feet. On the wall behind her desk she'd mounted the bleeding sword she'd won from the auction, the only weapon in sight. Pushing Dusting behind a bookshelf and out of sight Izel lunged for the sword, awkwardly lifting it from the stand. She'd forgotten how heavy it was and it slipped in her hand, slicing a thick corner off the edge of her desk and cutting into the carpet. The door rattled as the giant bed bug skittered through. There were ugly in the photos from infomercials, but up close its roughly shingled exoskeleton sent shivers up its spine, and even while she couldn't see its mouth, she could hear it as it wriggled around, looking for a meal. Before it got to her, it turned towards where she'd abandoned Dustin, and started crawling over a book table to reach him. Izel sturdied her grip on the sword, climbed over her desk, and leapt, driving the sword straight into it. The exoskeleton shattered and greek gunk sprayed out as the tip of the sword sank through it like butter, shattering it's abdominal shell too and sank 6 inches into the floor. The Bed Bug squirmed but was pinned in place. Izel couldn't looked away as it frantically scratched its legs for any purchase whatsoever. Slowly, it stilled, and Izel carefully stepped over it to reach the boy, who was looking very pale around the gills. "Hey, you - hggggh- alright? Can you breathe? Do you have an inhaler? ...Sorry."

Dustin let out a loud yelp as the woman hauled him into the bookstore, and he had just gotten back onto his feet before the woman pushed him again, this time to hide behind a bookshelf. Shit, what were they going to do? The creatures seemed to come out of the liquid-thing at the theatre, and who knew how many had pushed out of there since they ran away. There was no way they were going to stay in one place once they had finished their meal... of people. Fuck. They were going to eat Mary and the others. From one moment to the next, the woman carried a sword in her hand. Who the hell kept actual swords in a bookstore- and wait a second, did that sword just slice through the wooden material of the desk as if it was a slice of cheese?! He jumped at the sudden noise at the door, bumping into a bookshelf behind him. Several books fell to the floor with a loud crash. Dustin winced. This was almost more terrifying than the giant dragonfly. He hated bugs like that, and even more when they were the size that they might consider him their meal. And it was coming right towards him... shit shit shit. There was nothing he could do. There was no spell he could remember that could save him from this. Without keeping his eyes off the bug slowly crawling towards him, Dustin grabbed one of the heavy books from the floor. As this thing crawled over a book table, antennae twitching in anticipation, he was briefly reminded of one of the books he'd been forced to read for school. The Meta-something. How he had hated that book. He took more steps back as the thing got even closer, even though there was nowhere to run. It was right then that the woman sliced right through its abdomen, green ooze spraying out of it. Eyes wide, he looked at the woman as she came up to him, giving her a shaky nod. He could breathe. He didn't have his inhaler - it was somewhere in his backpack which he'd left at the theatre - but he would make it through this. He knew he could breathe, because his chest was moving up and down and there was definitely oxygen going to his brain, even though it still felt like something was pushing on his chest, keeping a tight grip around his throat. He glanced at the dead bug behind the woman, at its thick shell and long legs and sharp mouth parts. What were the other creatures doing, were they currently eating- Dustin barely had time to tilt his head away as he was sick all over the floor. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking a little. "I'm really sorry. I-" He had to stop. He had to get it together. "I'm-" He threw up a second time. "I'm Dustin," he managed to say between gags.

Izel took a half step back, tilting her head away and closing her eyes as he heaved, wishing there was a way to close her ears. "It's okay, I probably need a professional-" she grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut further as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor, "-cleaner, anyway. I'm, um, Izel." She took a deep breath and straightened up, looking at the dead beetle she'd pinned to her floor. God did she hope these things didn't swarm. "Let's get you cleaned up." She offered a hand to him and helped him around the bug as police sirens squealed past. "Oh!" Izel looked around for her phone, but couldn't see it anywhere, and dialling the desk's landline got her a failing dial. "Phone's down, which means internet is. You got any slayers in your phone book? Um, bullets ricocheted off that spider like nobody's business and the police aren't..." Izel sighed, wiping her forhead and smearing blood across it. "Kitchen's through here..."

Dustin looked up as he was finished, wiping at his mouth. His eyes grew wide at her statement. "Shit, this is your place? I'm really, really sorry," he said again. He felt terrible for throwing up in her bookstore, although maybe her owning this place was a good thing. This way, at least they wouldn't have to explain the giant dead bug to a clueless and poor owner. "But nice to meet you, Izel. Though I wish this was happening under nicer circumstances." He followed her, frowning as she mentioned that the phone was down. There went his chance to call and warn his family and Quinn. "Slayers? Like vampire slayers? Those things aren't vampires, at least not how I would imagine vampires," he told her, following her into the kitchen. "You should- um, you should probably get cleaned up. You look horrible. No offense!" Ah, a tap. Great. Dustin went straight through the room, holding his mouth under the water to get the terrible taste out of his mouth. "What are we gonna do?" he wondered. His heart was still going way too fast. "I mean, those things- how do we- we need to warn people. What if people are out there and they just run into- into whatever it is those things are?"

Izel shook her head. Sick on the wood was the least of her concerns. Her eyes flicked to the door and flinched as distant gunshots rang out. "Likewise." How he was thinking of niceties right now was beyond her, but she appreciated it beyond words, even if hers were a little sparse. "Yeah, Slayers. Actually, anyone with super strength, speed and combat training will be swell. I mean, nothing I've ever covered included giant spiders and bed bugs. Where do you even find a bed big enough for that?" She gestured at the mess in the hall. She nodded. "You too, hon." He clearly agreed, given how he rushed to the tap. Izel leant against her sideboard, shaking with misplaced adrenaline. "Police are there, people will know not to approach. There's not much else we can do unless you've got something big under those sleeves of yours, we just gotta stay safe until someone takes them down." But bullets had bounced off them, which probably meant regular knives would too. Unless it was a severely irregular knife. Izel looked at the bed bug once again. Now that was worrying - an idea had just started taking shape in her head.