#and also there's probably some kind of message here about restraining people and the effects that got on their mental health

[friedricebunny]

eugh i was hoping that i was misremembering haruka's vd but no 😔bro was gonna harm himself if we didn't forgive muu

(forever so so sad that haruka was not innocent. he's innocent in my heart forever.)

[project1939]

200 Films of 1952

Film number 179: Return of the Texan

Release date: Feb 13th, 1952 

Studio: 20th Century Fox 

Genre: drama/western

Director: Delmer Daves 

Producer: Frank P. Rosenberg 

Actors: Dale Robertson, Joanne Dru, Walter Brennan 

Plot Summary: After Sam’s wife dies, he and his two sons move back to their old rundown family farm. Sam struggles to earn a living and deal with the grief from the loss of his wife. He finds help from his stubborn grandfather and a flirtatious woman in town. 

My Rating (out of five stars): *** 

This was just a nice simple family drama without too much melodrama. It’s more colorful and character driven than plot heavy and schmaltzy. The story could have easily become maudlin, so I appreciated the relatively restrained tone of it all.  (major spoilers!)

The Good: 

Dale Robertson as Sam. I’ve found him appealing in everything I’ve seen him in thus far (Outcasts of Poker Flat, Lydia Bailey, and O. Henry’s Full House), and I liked him here. He played Sam effectively as an outwardly stoic guy with clear pain and sensitively under the surface. 

Joanne Dru's Ann was a shocking character at times. She was a kind woman who also openly and shamelessly juggled a lot of men, flirting intensely with anyone she wanted to. The flirting could even be sexually suggestive. In most Classical Hollywood films, she easily could have been judged as a “bad girl” or a slut, but she wasn’t here. It was very interesting. 

I got quite invested in the characters- I really cared about Sam and his kids. 

The screenplay and the overall tone of the movie was handled simply and without excessive sentiment. 

I liked the fact that this was a film about grief; about dealing with a painful loss and trying to find a way through it. To have that as a central topic for a film was not very common in this era. 

The opening music was beautiful, and I enjoyed most of the score. 

The Bad: 

Grandpa! I love Walter Brennan, but I hated the character. Why the hell he just kept going to hunt on Rod’s land, knowing it could jeopardize his son’s livelihood and home... I was literally yelling at my screen, telling him to knock it the fu-k off. The film didn’t seem to totally judge him for it either, some of it seemed to be joking about what a colorful guy he was. That annoyed me. 

The “No Hunting” sign sent off alarm bells the very first time I saw it. I even wrote in my notes “foreshadowing??” It was pretty obvious. 

Grandpa sure recovered miraculously from the stroke he had. 

I was disturbed at the messages given when the two little boys (probably about 4 and 7?) looked at pictures of their late mother or told stories about her to other people. Grandpa especially acted like this was wrong- the kids needed to move on. Ann was always upset by it because it made her jealous and insecure. Sam just kind of tensed up. Please let these little babies remember their mother and process their grief in a healthy way!! 

I’m getting sick of seeing men get into fist fights whenever they have an argument or one of them feels butt hurt in any way. In Classical Hollywood it’s portrayed as seemingly the ONLY way for men to deal with their problems. Or at least the only MANLY way. A crown of respect is placed on the head of the hero who uses his fists. Barf. 

The trope of the wedding day for a character who is marrying the “wrong” person. In real life, are there honestly this many last-minute occurrences of “bride fleeing with her dress on to run to the man she really loves”?? 

Why, dear god, would you call one of your children Yo-Yo?? 

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

So Give Me Hope In The Darkness

Dukeceit Week Day 4: Free Day

Janus comes to him scared and broken. And there is nothing Remus wouldn’t do to help him. 

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 8855

Warnings: violence, dehumanization/people as test subjects, implied past abuse.

@dukeceitweek <3

-

“Remus, the transport’s here. You ready?”

Remus looked up from where he had been meticulously finishing the last fold on the absolute best paper airplane he had ever made in his life. “The what?”

Roman, leaning against the doorframe of Remus’ office, sighed deeply. “For the love of all things Disney and musical theatre, Remus, check your e-mail on a regular basis.”

Remus glanced at his desk. His laptop sat half-buried in crumpled up reject airplanes, the screen dark, so he slipped his phone from his pocket to check his e-mail with instead and… oops. One official work order, sent over 40 minutes ago, and three more messages from Virgil that all read somewhere along the lines of “Jesus Christ Remus respond to this so we know you read it.” Which, of course, he hadn’t. 

“Uh…” Remus said helplessly. Roman scrubbed a hand down his face, then motioned for Remus to follow as he stepped back out into the hallway. Remus scrambled after him.

“I’ll fill you in, but we need to hurry,” Roman said.

“The hell do they need me for? Wasn’t it just another one of those underground lab bullshit raids? Those always turn up fucking zilch.”

“Not this one,” Roman replied and, well, shit. Now Remus was interested enough to shut up and let his brother talk. “They actually found, like, the real headquarters. Evil scientists and all.”

“Fuck yeah, good for them. Logan and Virgil have been working themselves to the bone...r. But why do they need me?”

Roman gave him a look. It was his it’s time to be serious now, Remus look. “They found a, uh…” he hesitated, looking for the right word. “A test subject.”

“Oh.”

Well that answered that.

By this point, Roman had reached the door that led out to the parking garage. He stopped at the door and gave Remus a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remus muttered. Quickly, he emptied out his pockets and shoved his phone, wallet, keys, a small notebook, a miniature lockpick set, and a pocket knife all into Roman’s waiting hands. The last time he’d tangled with an aggressive gifted, he’d gotten the entire contents of his pockets- as well as the pants themselves- reduced to a pile of molten plastic and ash. “Right. Here I go.”

“Logan will brief you. Be careful.”

“I’ll be fine, bro, chill out.” Remus patted Roman’s cheek- which his brother couldn’t do a damn thing about with his hands full of Remus’ stuff- then pushed the door open and made his way out to the intake dock.

There was already a small crowd gathered around, a safe distance from where the armored transport van had been backed into the receiving bay. Logan, Patton, and Virgil were there, of course. But the presence of a handful of armed officers was a surprise. Logan usually refused to allow the police department to send their thugs into situations like this. This sort of thing was what Remus was on the payroll for. 

“Wasn’t expecting a party,” Remus said as he approached his team. Logan turned away from his conversation with Virgil.

“Ah, Remus. There you are,” he said. “I take it you have read the work order?”

“I… skimmed it,” Remus lied. Logan looked unimpressed. 

“Well, just in case you missed anything important, let us recap. Virgil?”

“Uh, yeah.” Virgil stepped closer, looking troubled. “We found a gifted in there, probably a test subject knowing these bastards. He’s aggressive, borderline feral, and those jokers-” He jerked his head in the general direction of the uniformed police. “Didn’t fucking help the situation. I couldn’t reach him, but I don’t know if that’s cause he’s in a state of mind where logic and reason are completely out the window, or if he’s… like us.”

Remus nodded. His own powers would work where Virgil’s had failed, but only if this one wasn’t completely immune to the effects of other gifteds like he and Virgil were. He turned to Patton. “You got anything for me, pops?”

“Of course!” From the pocket of his white doctor’s coat, Patton produced a small capped syringe filled with bright blue liquid. “I had to guess at the dosage, though.”

Remus accepted the tranquilizer and shoved it in his pocket. It would be a last resort. Looking to Logan, he asked, “Any ideas on powers? What to watch out for?” He was not pleased to see Logan grimace.

“We don’t know yet. The base is still being swept, so it will likely be some time before we will know what, if any, information was found on this subject.”

There was a heavy thunk from inside the armored van that made Patton jump. 

“Sounds like we don’t have that kind of time,” Remus mused. “Somebody wants out.”

“He was restrained when we found him. Blindfolded, too,” Virgil offered. “So he needs either visual, touch, or both.”

“Really narrows it down there, Virge,” Remus said with a huff. There was another thunk. “I’m going in. Standard operating procedure?”

Logan nodded. Remus nodded back, then looked to Virgil. 

Virgil led him through the crowd of uniforms, snapping at a few of them to move back, and up to the back doors of the van. He met Remus’ gaze. There was another thunk.

“Ok, now!” Remus said. Virgil tore open the door. Remus threw himself at the gifted on the other side, and Virgil slammed the door shut behind him.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect, so when he collided with a much smaller body, his momentum sent them both sprawling across the back of the van. Remus was bigger and stronger though, and didn’t have the disadvantage of being blindfolded, so he flipped the smaller body easily beneath him, wincing slightly at the hiss of pain he heard, and pressed a palm firmly against the bare skin of his neck.

“Why don’t you take a nap,” he growled. His power reached into the body, weaving its way into the circulatory system to slow the heart. Or, well. It tried to. He couldn't get a hold anywhere.

“Fuck. You are like us,” Remus muttered; more to himself than to the other, who was becoming increasingly difficult to hold down as he writhed and struggled against Remus’ weight. With his free hand, Remus reached around to try and fish the syringe out of his pocket. But the movement put him off balance. The gifted threw him off with a sharp jerk and scrambled away.

They both staggered to their feet on opposite ends of the cramped space, and Remus got his first good look at the gifted. His long blonde hair was a tangled mess, and he was still blindfolded- though he tracked Remus’ location enough to bare his teeth at him. Some sort of restraint seemed to be keeping his arms behind his back. Remus kind of wanted to murder whoever had done this to him.

“Hey, look, I’m not trying to hurt you,” he offered, even though he knew Virgil had already tried using his literal powers of persuasion on him. “I swear, I’m just trying to help you. But you need to calm the hell down.”

The gifted had pressed his back up against the wall of the van. Talking wasn’t going to do shit. The sooner Remus ended this the better. He rushed the gifted again; the gifted spun out of his grasp, and his hand closed on… feathers? The fuck? Whatever. The gifted had cornered himself against the back wall of the van. Remus spun sharply and slammed his weight into him. Winded, and with his back pinned into the corner, there was a precious few seconds where the gifted made no move. That was enough time for Remus to slip the cap off the syringe and jam it into the gifted’s thigh. 

His muscles immediately went slack, and Remus carefully lowered him to the floor, mindful of the goddamn wings he could now see were strapped down tightly against the gifted’s back.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” he asked sadly. He leaned over to bang three times on the van wall to signal the all clear to Virgil. A sudden, sharp pain raced up his other arm, and he jerked back with a yelp. The gifted had apparently gathered enough strength for one last act of defiance and had lashed out to fucking bite him, what the hell? Remus pushed him back down to the floor, and this time he stayed down. 

One of the back doors to the van eased open, and Virgil peeked in. Remus turned to him, and the whole world spun.

“Ah, fuck,” he managed. “Venomous. Cute.”

And then he promptly blacked out. 

-

Remus woke up in one of the dimly lit rooms of Patton’s infirmary. Patton had a vendetta against fluorescent lights, instead opting for soft, warm lights that didn’t give everyone headaches. Remus was thankful for this every time he woke up here- which was often- but especially now. His head was throbbing, and he kind of felt like he’d been hit by Virgil’s big armored transport van. Which he had before (his own damn fault) so he knew exactly how it felt.

His phone buzzed. Wincing at the movement, Remus glanced over to the small table beside the bed where his phone sat amid the pile of his other belongings. Which meant he had been out long enough for Roman to stop by and leave again. His phone buzzed again, so despite his body screaming at him for doing so, he reached over and grabbed it.

His team’s groupchat was filled with missed messages from the past hour. He scrolled through the most recent ones with a slight frown.

Nerdy Wolverine 

Patton, please give us an update on Remus’ condition.

Daddy 

He’s gonna be just fine, kiddos, he’s just sleeping it off.

Daddy’s Favorite 

👏👏👏 

Surly Temple 

Oh joy.

Daddy’s Favorite 

You were just as worried as the rest of us, Dr. Gloom.

Surly Temple

You can’t prove that.

Daddy 

Calm down, kiddos.

Nerdy Wolverine 

Patton, I would also like an update on the subject.

Daddy 

Are you sure? There’s kinda a lot to talk about.

Nerdy Wolverine 

Something brief, then. I will come by the infirmary when this meeting is over.

Remus 

Logan, texting during a meeting??? 😱😱😱

Surly Temple

Remus!

Daddy’s Favorite 

Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!

Remus 

I lived, bitch.

Daddy

I’ll be right there! Don’t you dare sit up!

Remus was already in the process of sitting up when Patton burst through the door. He winced slightly at the pain, but moreso at the disappointed look Patton gave him. 

“Uh-uh, you lay back down, mister,” he said. Remus sighed.

“I’m perfectly fine, pops,” he whined, but laid back down anyway, because even Remus knew better than to argue with Patton.

“Maybe, but you know the drill,” Patton replied. Remus made a noise of protest, but let Patton take his vitals and check him over. Then after an eternity- or more accurately, about five minutes- Patton stepped back and said, “Alright kiddo, you’re all good. Take it easy though. Maybe go home after the debrief, ok?”

Remus sat up now that he was allowed to. “I can’t believe that little fucker bit me,” he scoffed. He glanced down at his arm, where it had been bandaged up. “What happened to him? Where is he?” 

Patton looked a little uncomfortable, which more or less answered Remus’ question. The agency would be forced to hold the gifted here until the illegal lab had been fully cleared out and all the paperwork filed; and, well, there was a good chance Logan’s bosses would send in government officials to “assess the mental stability of the liberated test subject,” which was really just shitty politician speak for “see if this could become a huge scandal and decide if it was better to just make it all disappear.”

“Fuck,” was all he said. Then he got unsteadily to his feet. “Where’s Logan?”

Patton put a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. “He’s in a meeting with the chief of police. They’re trying to take the case.”

“Teach won’t let ‘em,” Remus said proudly. “I’m gonna, like. Go sit in my office. Cool?"

Patton eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. Remus gathered up all of his stuff from the table beside the bed, and darted out the door before Patton could change his mind. 

-

When Janus woke up, he immediately became aware of three things, in consecutive order.

First, he was somewhere he had never been before. That realization did not come as a surprise. He, of course, distinctly remembered the whole… “getting dragged out of his cell by people he didn’t know” incident. Usually he knew better than to lash out, but… there had been so much noise, so much unfamiliar chaos, and in his fear, he hadn’t known what else to do. And of course, it hadn’t done him any good; it never did. And now he was here. Wherever “here” was. 

The second realization did come as a surprise, as he sat up on the cot where he’d been laid, and looked around the sparse, softly-lit room: he was completely unbound. His wings were still instinctively pressed against his back, but they twitched at the realization and slowly unfurled to their full span. He winced slightly as tendons snapped into their proper places for the first time in a very long time but then he sighed in relief as the fragile bones settled. 

He had only just begun to catalogue the state of the rest of his body when a voice startled him into the third realization: he was not alone in the room.

“Damn, look at you!”

Janus flinched so hard he almost hit the wall the cot was pushed up against. He brought his wings around him protectively, and turned his eyes on the man sitting on a plastic chair near the opposite corner of the room. He narrowed his eyes as he recognized the voice of the man from the truck. 

“Hey, hey, don’t ruffle your feathers at me like that,” the man laughed. “Sorry about before, man. It was the only way to get you off the truck.”

Janus didn’t say anything. But he shifted so he was crouched on the cot rather than seated, in case he needed to dart away quickly. That seemed to amuse the man further.

“Relax, I ain’t here for a rematch. You kicked my ass fair and square. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Janus glared.

“I’m Remus, by the way. You got a name, snake-bird?”

He stood up as he said it, and Janus instinctively flinched back. The man-Remus?- didn’t look like the bad people, dressed in baggy jeans and an alluringly soft-looking green flannel. The bad people always wore white coats or body armor, depending on what they were planning to do to him that day. But… maybe they were just trying something new.

The man hadn’t moved closer. He was watching Janus with a look that fell somewhere between sadness and anger, and it kind of made Janus want to curl up into a ball and hide. 

“I, uh… I guess they treated you real bad down there, huh?” Remus said slowly. “Look, I know you’re scared, and you’re probably super confused, but you’re safe now. I can at least promise you that.”

He didn’t wait for any sort of response from Janus this time, instead turning to riffle through the bag that had been leaning up against his chair. He withdrew a fluffy, pale yellow blanket. He looked between it and Janus, and while Janus wasn’t the best at reading facial cues, he thought for a moment that Remus looked… embarrassed. Then, he moved forward a few paces and set the blanket down and backed up again.

“Here, uh… that’s for you. If you want it. Anyway, yeah. I’m gonna just.” He edged toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Janus.” His name leapt from his tongue before he could stop it. His voice was raspy, and his throat was sore, and he was still afraid- terrified- but still he ground out the words that made Remus pause in the doorway to look back at him. “I’m… Janus.”

-

The file Logan put down in front of them was almost the size of the textbooks Remus used as doorsteps in college (rather than their intended use) and for a moment, they all just stared at it. Then, Remus said what they were all thinking: “Well, fuck.”

“I hate to agree,” Roman sighed. “But yes. That.”

“Of course there will be much more to go over after I have had the time to fully analyze these files, but I thought it imperative I explain the current situation to you all as soon as possible,” Logan said. He was seated at the head of the conference table. The rest of the team was seated around the table except for Virgil, who paced restlessly nearby. Everyone- even Remus- stayed quiet, because when Logan talked, everyone listened.

“With this file, and similar documents recovered both from the most recent site and from previous sites, as well as the recovery of a live test subject, our case is more than sufficient to ensure those responsible will not walk away from this.” 

There was a collective sigh of relief. Virgil, who had been working on this case alongside Logan for years, looked especially relieved. He collapsed into the chair next to Remus, and Remus leaned over to ruffle his hair with a grin. 

“You guys should be proud,” Patton exclaimed. “You worked so hard to see this through!”

“Well it’s not finished yet,” Roman pointed out. He nodded to the file in the middle of the table, that none of them had dared to open yet. 

“Roman is correct,” Logan said. For a moment, he looked very tired; then, he adjusted his tie, and continued. “We must first ensure we have indeed apprehended all parties responsible. There are more names in these files than persons in our custody. Additionally, there is the matter of the test subject-”

“Janus,” Remus interrupted. Everyone gave him an odd look, so he clarified, “His name is Janus. He told me.”

“...Janus, then,” Logan amended. “Janus is to remain in our care until he can be evaluated. If he is deemed capable, he will be free to go once the investigation is closed.”

Logan did not, nor did he need to, state what would happen to Janus if he didn’t pass the evaluation. The agency’s evaluation essentially just looked to see if a gifted could still be considered a “person,” or if they had gone “feral”- and not in the fun way. Feral gifteds got locked up somewhere and were never seen again.

Remus, like all gifteds, hated it; but the government viewed them as dangerous. And a gifted that wasn’t in complete control of their mind, and thus, their powers, was considered too dangerous to let go free. Regardless of what trauma had made them that way in the first place, and if, with proper care, they could heal from it. It made Remus sick.

“They’re not taking Janus,” Remus spat out, interrupting whatever Logan was going to say next. “I won’t let them.”

“Ree,” Roman said gently. “We may not have a choice.”

“No. You guys haven’t seen him- he isn’t aggressive, he’s just scared.”

“Do you know how many people it took to get him into the damn truck?” Virgil snapped. “Oh and also, he bit you? You’re immune to gifted powers and he still knocked you out?” 

“Think about it from his perspective. You’ve been trapped in literal hell for who knows how long, and then suddenly you’re getting dragged out by people you don’t know, blindfolded and tied up, to go who knows where? I’d bite too.”

Patton looked heartbroken at Remus’ words. Virgil didn’t look convinced. But it was Logan who spoke.

“We have time,” Logan said. “Until the investigation closes, he remains in our custody. We make the decisions regarding his care.” He cast Remus a meaningful look, and repeated, “We have time.”

Remus understood.

-

He left Janus alone for the rest of the day, because he figured the guy probably could use some time to calm down. He even managed to persuade Patton to put off any sort of medical examination for the time being- partly for the same reason, and partly because Remus would need to be there in case Janus reacted badly, and Remus still sort of felt like shit and he just wanted to go home and sleep.

So Remus had gone home, passed out for like 15 hours, and woke up feeling a little less like death and decay. 

The benefit of going to sleep at like 2pm was that, even after his stupidly long “I got bit by something venomous” nap, he still made it back to the agency at the crack of dawn. It was quiet, none of the police department’s goons hanging around, and Remus, with his years of practice, could sneak easily past Logan’s office. 

He peeked in through the little window in the holding cell door. Janus himself was nowhere to be seen- instead, there was a Janus-sized blanket mound curled up on the floor in the corner of the room. The sight made Remus smile fondly.

“Damnit, you’re actually kinda cute,” he muttered. And then promptly decided he was not going to overthink that.

Remus camped out outside the holding cell until the headquarters came to life. The mornings were always a flurry of activity, even moreso today what with yesterday’s events. He saw the moment the noise from the hallway woke Janus up- the gifted poked his head out from under the blanket, mismatched eyes blinking sleepily, and then quickly vanished into the blanket mound once more. It was stupidly adorable. 

An intern came by with a tray of food for Janus, and Remus stopped him from approaching the door.

“I got this, kid,” he said with an amused grin. “This is way above your paygrade.”

The intern handed over the tray with a look of relief and scampered off. Poor kid.

The blanket mound stirred when Remus stepped into the room, but there was no further indication that Janus intended to come out. He shut the door behind him, and walked over to crouch down near- but not too near- the blanket mound.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. I take it you like the blanket?”

The blanket shuffled backward a few inches. Remus set the tray down on the floor in front of him.

“I don’t really know what kind of food you like, so hopefully there’s something here you'll eat,” he said, eyeing the assorted fruits, toast, and eggs that had been sent up. “But like, if you want something else, you can tell me.” There was no response, so Remus stood up slowly and backed away. “I’ll just… be over here, then.”

He dragged the plastic chair to the opposite end of the room to give Janus as much space as possible, and plopped down in it with every intention of waiting him out.

It took about forty minutes of idly scrolling through his phone before Janus emerged, slowly and warily, mismatched eyes darting between Remus and the plate of food. Remus glanced toward him.

“Go ahead. It’s yours. Cold by now, I’ll bet.”

It took a further ten minutes for Janus to make up his mind and emerge fully from under the blanket and approach the plate- but when he finally did, he downed the food so fast, Remus was surprised he didn’t choke.

“Guess you like everything,” he mused. “Fuck, did they even feed you down there?”

He wasn’t really expecting an answer, because Janus was moving back toward his blanket. But rather than vanishing again, Janus sat down facing Remus, with his back to the wall, wings draped around his body like a blanket, and the actual blanket across his lap.

“They did, sometimes,” he replied. His voice sounded a bit rough still, like it had been a while since he’d used it, and quiet enough that Remus had to strain to hear him from across the room.

“Shit, man, these people fucking suck. How long'd they have you?”

Janus seemed to consider the question, but ended up just shaking his head. “I don’t know.” He avoided Remus’ eye for a few minutes, but he looked like he had more to say; Remus just waited in silence until finally, Janus asked, slowly, “Why am I here? Who are you?”

“I’m glad you ask, bud,” Remus answered. He stood up, and Janus flinched back slightly, feathers puffing up a bit. Remus moved a few feet closer, and then sat down on the ground so he was level with Janus. “It’s kinda a long story, but the short version is that it’s our job to go after the kinds of people who do this sort of shit. And the people who took you are gonna go to jail for the rest of their fucking lives for what they did.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “They ain’t gonna lay a finger on you ever again. I promise.”

Janus eyed him carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he could believe what he was hearing. Remus couldn’t blame him. And then he was gone, vanishing back under the yellow blanket. Remus cleared his throat awkwardly, and stood up.

“I, uh. Yeah. I guess I’ll leave you alone then.” He paused at the door, and glanced over his shoulder. “You want more blankets? Some pillows, maybe?”

A muffled “Yes,” was the reply. Remus, again, could not help but smile fondly to himself.

-

Sleeping on the floor meant that Janus could stay alert to anyone approaching his cell, by sensing the vibrations in the ground. By his third visit, Janus could easily discern Remus’ gait from that of the others that passed down the hall.

He brought pillows and more blankets, just like he said he would. And then he asked if he could bring a friend in.

“He couldn’t give you more than a quick once-over when you first got here,” Remus explained while Janus sat on the floor and inspected his new blankets, marveling at how soft they were. “But he wants to make sure you’re not hurt anywhere.”

“I’m not hurt anywhere,” Janus said quickly. It wasn’t totally a lie; he wasn’t hurt anywhere specific, he just sort of hurt in general. That was normal though. 

“Ok, I’m gonna pretend I believe that,” Remus huffed. “But even so. He’s gotta do it sometime soon.”

Janus cast Remus a sideways glance. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, and he still wasn’t sure how much he could trust these people. The ones before had never shown him kindness- he’d been grabbed off the street in his early teens and treated like an animal ever since. This new place… it felt different from anything he’d experienced before, and that made him wary. 

Being shown kindness and then having it taken away was worse than having never been shown it at all.

“Okay,” Janus said finally, because he didn’t think he was actually being given a choice in this. 

“Okay,” Remus echoed. He seemed unconvinced, which sent a small spike of anxiety into Janus’ chest, because the last thing he wanted to do was upset Remus. The man had brought him blankets, for goodness’ sake. “I’ll text him.”

Janus decided to busy himself with nervously running his hands through his oily feathers. His wings badly needed grooming, but he didn’t know how to ask for brushes. Would they let him have brushes here? He wasn’t allowed them at the old place. He was so lost in that thought, that he didn’t sense someone approaching the door until it was being opened.

“Hey, pops, come on in,” Remus said. Janus glanced over, and was immediately gripped by panic. 

He didn’t recognize the man, and his expression of “cheer fading into concern” was an unfamiliar one, but it was the white coat he wore that Janus recognized. He knew what the white coat meant.

He got caught in his pile of blankets as he tried to scramble to his feet. He tripped and crashed to the ground; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus make a grab for him. But he was too quick, kicking off the blanket that had tangled up his legs and springing to his feet. He used his wings to balance himself and buffeted Remus over the head in the process.

“Janus- fuck-” Remus staggered back to avoid a second blow from Janus’ thrashing wings. The man at the doorway looked torn between rushing in to help and backing away. Janus bared his fangs at him, but he was shaking so badly, he felt like a small breeze could topple him.

The man took a step closer, hand held out, but Janus barely heard his words- “Oh gosh, kiddo, I’m not gonna hurt you!”- over the blood pulsing in his ears. His back hit the wall behind him, and abruptly his legs gave out. He slid down to the ground and curled his wings over his head. 

“Janus?” Remus’ voice sounded far away beyond the curtain of feathers. “Hey, you gotta talk to me here.”

“I’ve been good,” Janus managed to choke out. “I- Please don’t, I’ve… I’ve been good.” He curled further in on himself, fully expecting to be struck. 

But nothing happened. The door opened and closed. Then silence. Janus risked a quick peek through his feathers and found that the other man was gone. Remus sat a few feet away.

“It’s ok, he’s gone,” Remus said quickly. Janus did not lower his wings, but the shaking abated slightly. 

“I’ve been good,” he said again, a little more firmly this time. “You promised.”

Remus looked unnerved. He scooted a few inches closer and asked, “What did I promise?” 

“That they… they wouldn’t hurt me again,” Janus hissed. Then, softer this time, “I’ve been good.”

“You have been good, but that doesn’t have anything to do with… wait, did you think…” Remus looked confused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Patton isn’t one of them. Is that what you thought?”

Janus just glared.

“Oh, snake-bird.” Remus’ eyes softened. “Patton’s one of us. He’s ok.”

“He looks like them,” Janus growled. “White-coat.”

“White coat… oh, shit, man, I didn’t even think.”  The sudden volume of Remus’ voice made Janus shrink back into the safety of his own wings. “Oh, shit, sorry. Hey, come back. I’m sorry.” 

Janus folded his wings back with a huff, and gave Remus an unamused look. Remus gave him a soft smile in return.

“I mean it. Patton is one of us. I can tell him to take off his coat. He won’t touch you unless you tell him he can. And you can tell him to leave, at any point, and I’ll throw him out myself. Deal?”

Janus searched his face for a long time. Remus seemed… so distressed. What would be the point, of faking that? There would be no reason to fake any of this, would there?

(Or maybe there was, and he was just too blinded by the hope that his nightmare had finally come to an end to see it.)

But slowly, reluctantly, but unable to shake the small seed of trust in Remus that had just started to take root, Janus said, “Deal.”

-

After the small fiasco that was Janus and Patton’s first meeting, things actually went rather smoothly. Patton wasn’t able to give as thorough of an exam as he was hoping. Janus was too skittish for that. And he had flat out refused a blood draw, which Remus had kind of expected. 

But at the very least, Patton was able to sign off that there were no signs of physical trauma that demanded immediate medical care, which was really all Logan’s bosses wanted. 

Despite his initial reaction, it seemed like the experience with Patton actually helped Janus feel more confident in his new situation. He grew more comfortable exercising his new control over his body and his space, even going so far as to tell Remus to go away when he wanted to be alone. And when he asked for brushes for his wings one day, Remus left work then and there to go get them. When he came back, Janus was waiting at the door for him.

“Well then, eager beaver, I hope I got the right stuff,” Remus said. He handed over the bag. It was way more than the two brushes Janus had asked for, but Logan had given him the company card and, well, Logan should know better than to do that. 

“Anything is better than a rag and my own hands, which is what I usually use,” Janus said. Remus very politely did not make the joke he so desperately wanted to make. “Is that… a bottle of dish soap?”

“Sure,” Remus answered as Janus pulled the little blue bottle of Dawn dish soap out of the bag. “They use it to clean crude oil spills off penguins and shit and, like, a penguin's a bird, right?”

Janus sighed deeply, but he was smiling, and Remus would steal him the sun if it meant Janus would keep smiling.

“Anyway, uh…” Remus shifted awkwardly. “I can, like. Leave you alone, I guess. If you want. Unless you want… uh, never mind, I’ll go-”

“Would you help?” Janus asked. He glanced down at the bag in his hands, and added, with much less confidence, “Um. There are parts I can’t reach.”

“Yeah, of course,” Remus said immediately. “Just tell me what to do?”

Janus guided him to sit down on the ground, and then plopped down next to him. He carefully spread one of his wings out and, after a moment of hesitation, let it drape across Remus’ lap. Remus tried not to feel too overwhelmed by the incredible amount of trust Janus was putting in him right now. 

“Here,” Janus passed one of the bristle brushes to Remus- one of many that Remus had bought- and then chose one for himself. “Just go with the growth, please. But if you find any loose feathers go ahead and work them out. Gently, though.”

Remus obeyed. He brushed carefully through the feathers, marveling at their soft golden-brown color. Even covered in oil and grime, they were beautiful. But after a few minutes, Janus frowned. 

“Everything ok?” Remus asked. He was suddenly afraid he was brushing too hard, or hurting Janus somehow, even though Janus had given no indication that he was in pain.

“It’s just…” Janus sighed helplessly. “They’re so dirty.”

He looked almost on the edge of tears when he said it, which was enough to put Remus immediately into I will do anything for you mode. “Do you want to try the Dawn? One time Patton used it to wash a cat he found that was all grimed up and shit, and it worked real well.” 

Janus seemed to consider it. He glanced over toward the door that led to the little private bathroom attached to the holding cell, then shook his head. 

“There’s not enough space in there,” he said. “We’ll make a mess.”

“We can go downstairs,” Remus suggested. “There’s showers in the employee locker rooms. Plenty of space.” 

Janus looked skeptical. “Is that allowed?”

It was, technically, not allowed. Janus had not been evaluated yet, and he wasn’t really allowed out of holding until he was. But… well, if they were quick, no one would notice. What was life without a little risk?

“Sure!” he said. “It’s fine.”

“...Okay. Sure.” 

Grinning, Remus got to his feet and gathered all their supplies back into the bag. Then he beckoned for Janus to follow.

“Logan’s in meetings for most of the day, and Roman’s off on assignment,” he said. He eased open the cell door and peered out into the empty hall. “And Patton’s usually swamped with paperwork in the afternoons. Everyone else who works here is too scared of me to say anything.”

Janus didn’t question it. Remus led him down the hall and paused to make sure the stairwell was also empty before leading him down the two flights to the ground floor. Janus seemed nervous in the unfamiliar surroundings. He clung close to Remus, close enough that he almost ran into him at several points. Remus tried to give him reassuring smiles and the occasional word of encouragement. 

There were voices in the break room, so they had to go around to get to the locker room. It was usually empty at this time, and today was no exception. Remus held the door open and ushered Janus inside. 

“The showers are over here.” Remus pulled back the curtain and leaned in to turn on the water. “You a warm water person or a cold water person?”

“Warm,” Janus said quickly. “Please.”

As the water warmed up, Remus helped him to pull off his soft flannel shirt (one of many Remus had bought because the agency-provided shirts were those horrible starchy t-shirts and Janus had hated them.) Remus was amazed at how much healthier the scaled half of his face and body looked after just a week of proper meals and consistent rest.

“Are you sure this isn’t going to turn everything blue?” Janus asked when Remus passed him the bottle of Dawn. He still looked vaguely unconvinced about this whole thing. 

“Nah, it won’t, don’t worry!”

Janus sighed. “Ok, but if it does, I shall never forgive you.”

“If I turn your wings blue, I’ll buy you so many blankets, they’ll fill up your whole room. Ready?”

“Well that makes me want my wings to turn blue,” Janus said. He followed Remus into the shower stall. 

It took longer than Remus was expecting to wash out all the years of grime from Janus’ wings. It was especially difficult closer to the point where the wings met his back, because Janus couldn’t reach there on his own. Remus worked through those spots carefully, and it wasn’t until he was almost done that he realized Janus had gone silent. 

“Hey, you good?”

“Mhmm.”

Remus leaned over to catch Janus’ eye, only to find his eyes were closed. There was a content look on his face.

“...did you fall asleep?”

“No.”

“You totally did!” Remus grinned. “You fell asleep standing up!”

Janus opened his eyes to glare at him, but the glare was tempered by the obvious half-dazed look of someone who had, in fact, just woken up. 

“...Ok, maybe I did for a moment there,” Janus huffed. The glare became a pout. “It just feels nice.”

Remus let his grin soften into a smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

The sound of the locker room door opening and closing startled them both. Remus pulled back the curtain just enough to look out into the locker room- and he immediately came face-to-face with Virgil. 

“Oh. ‘Sup, Virge.”

Virgil was eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Uh… a smoothie?”

“That’s not… Remus, that’s not how that meme works. And you’re not even holding a smoothie.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Are you showering with your clothes on?”

“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”

Virgil’s eyes flicked toward the ground, then back up to Remus. “You realize I can see there’s someone in there with you, right?”

Remus also glanced downward. The curtain stopped about six inches off the ground. “Uh…”

“And I can also see the pile of feathers on the floor that you sure as fuck better not try and wash down the drain.”

“I’m not that dumb.”

Virgil sighed. “Hello, Janus.”

Janus hesitantly poked his head out from the other side of the curtain. “Hello.” 

“The fuck are you guys doing?”

“We’re not having sex if that’s what you’re thinking,” Remus said. Janus made a choked sound and vanished back into the showers.

“There is no universe in which I was thinking that,” Virgil growled. 

“No universe? Not even one?”

“What the fuck are you doing down here?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “If you must know, snake-bird here looked like a penguin in an oil spill. We’re washing his wings.” A pause. “Hey, since you’re here, wanna hand me a couple of towels? The big fluffy ones Patton hides.” 

Virgil walked away grumbling, but by the time Remus had finished rinsing the soap out of Janus’ wings and shut off the water, Virgil was waiting outside with a stack of Patton’s fluffy light blue towels. Remus took one and wrapped Janus up in it.

“What’re you up to, Emo?” he asked as he took a second towel and started toweling off Janus’ dripping wings. 

“Logan sent me to find you,” Virgil answered. He was watching the scene unfold in front of him with a look that Remus didn’t bother trying to decipher. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Probably ‘cause it’s sitting on my desk. What’s Teach need me for?”

“He wants to talk. Work stuff.”

“Oh.” Remus looked at Janus. “We should, uh. Probably get you back upstairs before he comes looking for me himself.”

Janus nodded. He gathered up the brushes and, after a moment of eyeing Virgil cautiously, reached over and snatched up one more of Patton’s fluffy towels and shoved it in the bag as well. At Virgil’s look of incredulity, there was nothing else for Remus to do but burst out laughing. 

-

As it turned out, Logan would probably not have been upset over Janus’ field trip downstairs, because when Remus finally made it to his office, the first thing Logan said to him was, “Would you be opposed to letting Janus stay in your home?”

Because apparently, Logan had pulled some strings with his bosses to get Janus out of holding; he had argued that spending his time in a home environment- instead of a type of confinement similar to what he’d endured for a large portion of his life- would vastly improve his chances of passing the assessment. The higher-ups had agreed, with the stipulation that Janus be released into the care of one of Logan’s team.

“Of course he can come home with me,” Remus had said, almost automatically. It was a chance to get Janus out of the box he’d been stuck in all this time. There was nothing that could make him say no.

Janus had seemed hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to it. So the next day, they had packed up the mountain of pillows and blankets, the bag of brushes and stolen towels, the couple of books Logan had sent up to keep Janus occupied when Remus couldn’t, the snake plushie Virgil had apparently dropped off the night before, and the multicolored cake Patton and Roman had brought by for him that morning that was now half-eaten, and hauled it all over to Remus’ apartment. For a guy who’d been dragged out of hell with only the clothes on his back, Janus sure had a lot of shit to move.

Janus had balked at getting into a car, so Remus talked Patton and Roman into driving his stuff over for him, and then walked with Janus to the apartment. It wasn’t that far, and, Remus realized with a stab of guilt, it was probably the first time Janus had seen the sun in a long time. He kept pausing to close his eyes and tilt his head up toward the sunlight for a few moments at a time, before darting after Remus. Remus didn't stop him. 

It slowed them down to the point that when they finally got to the apartment, Roman had let himself and Patton in, brought all of Janus’ stuff up, and then left. Which was just as well- Janus had met Roman only once, and had seemed oddly jumpy around him.

“So, yeah,” Remus said, after showing Janus around. “You can just grab anything you need. I don’t really keep anything fragile in here ‘cause I tend to break stuff, so don’t worry.”

It was odd, seeing Janus standing in the middle of his living room, with his wings- which after their scrubdown, actually had a soft golden sheen to them- folded carefully against his back. But he seemed relaxed in a way Remus hadn’t seen before. Logan was right.

That evening, Remus got Janus settled into the bedroom.

“Where will you sleep?” Janus asked tentatively as Remus dumped all of Janus’ blankets onto the bed. 

“Huh? Oh, I’ll just be in the other room,” Remus replied. “I sleep on the couch half the time anyway, no big deal.”

“Oh.” was all Janus said. Remus made sure he was comfortable, and then went to pass out on the couch.

When he woke up sometime late in the night, he wasn’t quite sure what had woken him. Remus was, historically, a heavy sleeper. He’d once slept through a monsoon in a cheap tent. If he was tired enough, he could probably sleep through an earthquake. 

He turned his head to squint out into the dark apartment, and could just make out that the bedroom door was ajar. Remus stood up to go check on Janus- and then promptly tripped over Janus.

Remus yelped, and collapsed into the blanket nest that had appeared on the ground next to the couch; Janus yelped, on account of being tripped over, and scrambled out from under his pile of blankets. They both stared at each other through the darkness for a moment, and then both spoke at once.

“Are you ok-”

“I’m sorry-”

They both paused, and then Remus laughed.

“Shit, J, almost gave me a heart attack there. You ok?”

Janus looked a little sheepish. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s ok. What’re you doing sleeping there, though?”

“Um…” Janus looked down at his hands where he was clutching the snake plushie. It was stupidly cute. “I couldn’t sleep, alone. I thought I’d sleep better… out here.”

Remus blinked at him, still half-asleep. And it was probably because he was still half-asleep that he said, “Do you want me to sleep in there with you?”

Janus, after a moment, nodded.

“Ok. I can do that, snake-bird. It’s ok.” 

Remus helped Janus stand up, and they moved the blanket mound back into the bedroom. The rest of Janus’ blankets and pillows had been made into a nest wedged into the space between the bed and the wall. Remus smiled fondly. 

“Didn’t like the bed, huh?”

“I feel safer on the floor,” Janus said, looking embarrassed. “I can… sense vibrations in the ground. I know if someone’s coming up to me.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Remus glanced between the nest and the bed, and shrugged. “I got the bed, then.”

He laid down, while Remus clamored over the bed to get to his nest and then promptly burrowed under the mountain of blankets. And as he was drifting off, Remus could have sworn he heard a soft sigh from Janus, of something that could, perhaps, be contentment. 

-

Janus had never slept so well before. Tucked into the space between the bed and the wall, in a room so unlike the cement-walled cell he’d spent years calling home- and with the soft snoring of Remus, the man he had tentatively come to trust, nearby, Janus slept through the night. And the night after that, and the night after that.

So when he woke with a start the fourth night, it took him a few groggy minutes to piece together why he was awake. He was still curled up comfortably under his blankets. Remus was snoring away in the bed above him. And then the people in the kitchen took another step toward the bedroom, and the vibrations in the floor raced up to Janus’ body. He sat up in a panic.

“Remus,” he hissed. No response. He reached up and grabbed at Remus’ shoulder to try and shake him awake. “Remus!”

Remus grumbled something incomprehensible, and did not wake. Starting to feel frantic, Janus crawled up onto the bed and shook Remus harder. At the same moment that Remus’ eyes fluttered open, the doorknob turned.

“Janus?” Remus asked, voice rough with sleep. Then the door was flung open. Flashlight beams fell across them both as men poured into the small room. Janus turned, baring his teeth, and spread his wings to shield Remus behind him.

“Take him, alive,” one of the men ordered. Janus squinted through the harsh glare of their flashlights to pick out who was speaking. “Kill the other.”

No. Absolutely not.

Janus caught the leader’s eye and summoned his powers to him. The man tried to look away, but even in the gloom, Janus’ powers held him rooted to the spot. 

“Sleep,” he snarled, forcing all of his power and will into the command. The man dropped to the floor.

In the seconds it took for him to wrest the leader’s consciousness away, the other men had fanned out around him. Janus whipped around to his left, but froze when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun touch the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice behind him sneered. A man to his right reached to grab him. There was a crack and a grunt of pain behind him, and the gun fell away- Remus appeared on his right and swung what looked like a crowbar. There was another sickening crack, and the man grabbing for Janus immediately collapsed in a heap. 

The momentum of the swing propelled Remus up off the bed and into the next armed goon. They both fell backwards- Remus knocked his gun away, and as they hit the ground, a whack from the crowbar meant only Remus stood back up.

“Janus, get down!” he shouted suddenly. Janus turned- there was one man still standing, and he had his gun leveled at Janus’ chest. Janus froze. A gunshot rang out.

Janus felt himself hit his mound of blankets. Remus had shoved him off the bed. Hesitantly, he peered up over the edge.

Remus had bowled the man over onto his back amid the sheets and now sat on top of him, a hand grasping at the exposed skin of his neck. The man, rather than struggling against Remus’ grip, was clutching at his own chest. He convulsed, then fell still.

Janus put a hand on the ground. There were no more in the apartment. He climbed up onto the bed.

“Remus?” 

No response. Janus hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder. At the same time, Remus slumped forward and slid to the ground.

“Remus!” Janus cried out in alarm. He vaulted over the bed and crouched down next to Remus. There was blood soaking his shirt.

“Remus, fuck. Why’d you do that?” Janus hissed. He gathered Remus up into his arms and tried to put pressure on the wound. Remus gazed up at him with glassy eyes.

“I promised,” he said weakly. Janus looked down at him.

“What did you promise?” he asked, probably sounding a little hysterical. Remus gave him a gentle smile.

“I promised they’d never touch you again.”

-

A neighbor had heard the gunshot and called the police, which was just as well, because Janus had no idea how to work Remus’ phone. The police had come and whisked Remus off to the hospital in an ambulance. Virgil came to take Janus back to the agency so that he wouldn’t be left alone in what had now become a crime scene. Janus made sure to bring his pale yellow blanket, the first one Remus had given him.

The investigation that followed revealed the intruders to be the extra names Logan had been searching for, and had returned to try and reclaim Janus before leaving town. With this, Logan could finally put the case to rest.

Remus was fine. When Janus was finally allowed to see him a few days later, he had just grinned and said, “Still not as bad as that time Virgil hit me with his truck.” Janus was not amused.

With the investigation closed, the agency could release Janus to be evaluated. Everyone gathered in Logan’s office to wait anxiously.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Roman said in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring tone. It did nothing to soothe Remus’ frayed nerves.

“Yeah, but what if something goes wrong, like they spook him or something-”

“If he can tolerate Princey randomly belting out Disney songs, he can tolerate anything,” Virgil scoffed. Roman glared. Patton stifled a giggle. Remus opened his mouth to reply, but in that moment, the door opened. Logan stepped into the office- behind him came Janus. 

“...Well?” Remus asked impatiently. His eyes were fixed on Janus. 

Janus glanced toward Logan. Logan gave a slight nod, and a smile spread across Janus’ face.

“I’m free to go.”

Remus sprang up and engulfed Janus in a hug. Janus clung to him tightly, and his tears of joy soaked Remus’ chest. 

[galaxywhump]

Proper Introductions

[Masterlist]

Dusted off another old WIP, so here’s a continuation of Wrong Place, Wrong Time.

cw: hero/villain whump, winged villain whumpee, hero whumper, defiant whumpee, manhandling, captivity, restraints, police, forced name change, dehumanizing name, referenced drugging, trophified.

~~~

He was handled like cargo, sedated while Bradley dealt with formalities, and when he was finally allowed to sober up he wasn’t even given any time to process the revelation of what was going to happen to him; instead he was unceremoniously thrown in the back of a van, wrists and wings restrained. The officers handling him weren’t wearing uniforms, and the van was unmarked, a clear sign that whatever was happening to him was no longer official and constrained by protocols.

It didn’t instill him with optimism, to say the least.

He was a criminal, of course, and now that he got caught he knew he wouldn’t be treated as anything else, but he’d never considered being handed over directly to the hero who had defeated him, who would be given free rein.

Stop being paranoid, he scolded himself, stretching his legs out as he sat up. He wanted to lean against the side of the van, but with his wings folded up and pinned together he couldn’t do so comfortably, so he decided against it. He winced when the van hit a rock or a pothole and his temporary prison swayed. He’s a hero. He must have some kind of a moral code, even-

Even though he had effectively trophified him.

He exhaled and fixed his eyes on the headliner as the van continued its trip, one-way for him. He cursed under his breath and his heartbeat picked up the pace when they briefly came to a halt, raised voices sounded outside, then the van revved up again and, judging by the sound, the asphalt gave way to gravel.

He was scared. He didn’t want to be, he shouldn’t be - risk was, after all, what he operated in, he knew how to keep his cool when faced with danger - but there was no denying that he had never felt more fear.

The van stopped definitively, the engine powered down. There were voices again, doors slamming, footsteps of someone circling the car until they reached the back door, and Oscar had to turn his face away when light flooded the dark space.

“Get out.”

For just a moment he wanted to refuse, but he knew there was no good way out of this, and him staying inside could be taken as a sign of cowardice rather than defiance. He got up, almost losing his balance, his body still accustomed to the swaying of the van, and leapt down from the back with as much nonchalant energy as he could muster. The officer immediately grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

Oscar looked around, keeping his chin up. There were a few people staring at him; the officers, three more tough-looking people in black button-up shirts, and, finally, Bradley McKenna himself, lighting up the driveway with what seemed to be a genuine smile that gave Oscar a sliver of hope. He quickly looked away from Oscar, though, and the feeling of being nothing more than cargo came back with full force when the button-ups - no doubt security workers of some kind - approached him and the officer handed him over to them with a nod. Two of them grabbed his arms with way more force than necessary and began to lead him away from the van. He strained his neck to see what was happening behind him and caught a glimpse of Bradley conversing with the officers, his posture relaxed, before the third security guard caught up and obstructed Oscar’s view.

He gave an experimental pull, squirmed a bit, but all it got him were fingers digging into his arms until they hurt and a light kick to the shin, so he settled on sulking in silence, taking in the sight of the house he was being led towards. It was huge and modern, clear cut angles, white pain and wooden panels, obscenely large windows, even a damn swimming pool to the left, which he noticed out of the corner of his eye. It looked like a house from a brochure, an unattainable dream that was hard to imagine anyone could afford.

It didn’t surprise him one bit that Bradley lived in a house like this.

What he was being taken to, however, was a garage, and there was a part of him that found having to awkwardly stand still while the door slowly opened almost amusing. They led him in - there was no car, or cars, judging by the capacity of the garage, only a few shelves with everything and anything, spare tires, a workbench, and a few metal stools.

There were also chains, almost comical, thick and rusty with heavy daunting manacles, already waiting for him.

“Rustic”, he commented, barely able to hear his own voice over the beating of his heart. No one laughed. He was held still while the third security guard crouched down and closed the manacles on his ankles, making sure it was secure with a tug on the chain.

Then they left him alone, just like that. He followed them with his gaze; he wanted to make another comment, anything to appear more collected than he really was, but words were stuck in his throat, so he watched the garage door close, sealing him inside, in silence.

“Alright”, he muttered under his breath, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking down at his restraints. First he gave the short chain of the handcuffs a pull - it felt almost dainty, thin, like it should be severed easily, but of course it couldn’t. He tried his legs next, shuffled his feet and grimaced at the weight of the chain and the sound it made when it was dragged across the floor. He didn’t know what he was counting on, and yet his stomach sank when the reality of being restrained like this, with nothing to do but wait for Bradley to tell him what he was going to do to him, dawned on him.

He looked at the workbench, way out of the range the length of the chain allowed, and frowned. It almost felt teasing, knowing that there must be tools in there that could help him break free, until he realized that they could also be used for torture, and fear struck again. He averted his gaze, let it wander over the shelves, the spare tires, canisters, work clothes which he doubted were Bradley’s. He considered trying to pull one of the stools closer, but didn’t do that in the end. He’d done enough sitting when they were keeping him drugged.

Is he even going to come here?

The uncertainty was already killing him. He forced himself to focus on minute details, counting the canisters, following the pattern of the tiled floor with his gaze, measuring the space he could freely move in. He was in the middle of counting the tiles when the door connecting the garage to the rest of the house opened and Bradley came in, hands in pockets, and the same genuine smile appeared on his face when he locked eyes with Oscar, who gave him a hard stare in return.

“Heya”, he started in a conversational tone, closing the door behind him, but not coming closer, staying well out of Oscar’s reach. “Glad you finally got here.”

“What the hell do you want?” Oscar asked, his frown deepening. He stayed still as a statue, not breaking eye contact, chin still raised, and he noted that the two of them seemed to be roughly the same height - at least Bradley wouldn’t get to tower over him.

Bradley cocked his head to the side and didn’t answer - instead two things happened simultaneously when he took a step forward and Oscar’s handcuffs yanked his hands upwards like they had a mind of their own, pulled until he stumbled and was forced to turn around, and pinned his wrists to the metal frame of one of the shelves, high enough that he was unable to move, almost standing on his toes, his arms straining.

He struggled, tried to pull back, fight the invisible force, but its hold was strong, and then his fate was sealed when he heard the clinking of another chain, this one with a lock, which floated up, neatly connected the handcuffs to the frame, and locked itself, securing his hands in place. All he could do was look back over his shoulder to watch Bradley with narrowed eyes as he approached.

“What do you want?” he repeated. The plastic tape dug into his wings when they twitched, stopped in his instinctual attempt to stretch them out to shield himself.

“Just to get to know you!” Bradley laughed, disappearing from Oscar’s field of vision, and he flinched violently when he felt his hand on his wings.

“Hands off!”

“They’re dyed, aren’t they? Your wings.”

He squirmed, trying to get away from the touch, but he was trapped, trapped like he’d been ever since he got caught, barely able to move in a way that mattered. Defeated, immobilized, helpless when there was an unpleasant - but not really painful - popping sensation when Bradley ripped out one of his feathers.

“Hey!” he protested, his words once again falling on deaf ears. Bradley rubbed the feather between his fingers and smiled seeing the powdery black residue.

“Hm. There go my name ideas.” Oscar tensed up again when Bradley patted him on the shoulder. “But we’ll find something else.”

“Something- The hell?”

He heard footsteps, a deafening echo in the mostly empty garage, and once again he tried - and failed - to crane his neck to see what was going on behind him. There were strange sounds he couldn’t identify, probably tools of some kind, and that combined with Bradley’s words turned his unease into unbearable fear.

“I doubt they cared about keeping you clean there, so let’s take care of that before I show you to your room, alright?”

There were so many confusing messages and stimuli, the primary fear, name ideas, your room, the sounds, that for a split second he just felt overwhelmed - which made the sensation of freezing cold water hitting his back with enough force to pin him to the shelves all the more shocking.

He cried out, uselessly tugging at the handcuffs to get away from the jet of water, but there was no escape. He was already shivering, his clothes soaked, his wings getting heavy with water, weighing him down.

And Bradley laughed, no doubt upon seeing their real color.

“I think I’ve found a name for you, buddy!”

“I already have a n-name, buddy”, Oscar snapped, his teeth chattering from the piercing cold.

“Yeah, now you do.”

After what felt like an eternity, during which the high-pressure water was washing off even the most persistent specks of the dye, it halted at last, and Oscar could swear he got even colder. He let his head hang low, taking deep shaky breaths, while Bradley coiled up the hose to put it away. For a few moments the only sounds were the happy tune he was humming to himself and the dripping of water, amplified by the echo chamber of the garage. Then his footsteps joined as he approached until he stopped by Oscar’s side, and he turned his head to look at him, glaring despite how pathetic he looked with water trickling down his face. He jolted in place when Bradley reached around him and ripped another feather out of his sopping wings, then held it in front of Oscar’s face, smiling his annoyingly genuine smile and gently waggling the feather, clean, light yellow in color.

“Nice to meet you, Canary.”

[next]

[bellygunnr]

Blown Lightbulb

A commission piece for @poisonheadcrabsalesman featuring Thomas Lasky/Sarah Palmer. 

---

The house is cold. It hasn’t changed at all since you’ve last been here, some twenty odd years ago. You hadn’t been a kid then-- just a pilot, home on leave despite not really wanting to be. It had been tense then. It was the same now, even if your mother wasn’t even here, and you were laying bare the contents of your past to the two people you loved the most and considered the most important in your life. You hesitate to look at them, not quite fearful of what they’re thinking but definitely reluctant, like any of this is your fault and something to be ashamed of.

You know no one can really blame you for wanting some modicum of closure, but you’ve always been conscious of starting losing battles. Your mother isn’t even here, for one. A toneless holo-message is all she’s left you, detailing that an emergency at work brought her in and she’ll be back sometime in the evening. Maybe you and your colleagues could meet her at this location, even, and upon further investigation, that location is a startling high-profile restaurant of considerable Martian renown.

So much for flying close to the surface. You’d be in the air for all to see, just for a chance to reconcile with what little remains of your family. But that wasn’t for several hours yet, so you content yourself with poking around the giant empty house and listening to Sarah and Roland banter between each other.

“No offense, but this feels kind of like a museum exhibit,” Sarah says. “It’s not even dusty. I’d prefer it if it was.”

“You’d prefer it? There are stock photos of kids up here-- unless the Lasky family is way bigger than records suggest,” Roland answers.

You look at the picture frames Roland is pointing out. Amid the pictures of your brother Cadmon, there are photos of a foreign family, conspicuously only featuring a father figure. You run your fingers through your hair, nostrils flaring with a barely-restrained sigh.

“We didn’t take many family pictures,” you say, as if that explains anything. “I’m going to check out the upstairs.”

You tug on the back of your head, pulling at the recently shaved strands in a fit of anxiety. You don’t want to go upstairs. You’re afraid of what you’ll find there. Cadmon’s room was practically a shrine twenty years ago. The stairs don’t even creak as you step up them and you’re not sure why you expect them to. They look and feel and sound like wood, but you know them to be special composites that just didn’t degrade.

Your grip lingers on the railing as you take the final step. The door you know that leads to your mother’s room is closed. The keypad lock to it is bright red. You wonder if the keycode has changed at all, but testing it probably isn’t worth the risk. Across from her room is Cadmon’s, but that door is also, as you expected, closed.

And the one you recognize as your own is ajar. You let your hand find Sarah’s, squeezing it so tightly that she squeezes back, thumb rolling over your knuckles in a decidingly tender way.

“You know you don’t have to do this, Tom,” she says gently.

“But I want to,” you say. “I know I don’t need to.”

“Well, that’s something.”

It is. You offer her a braver smile than you feel and let her follow you to your room. There are more picture frames up here, covering the walls in even intervals. You can only ignore them because you know Roland is looking at them. You nudge open the door with your foot and, again, hesitate at the threshold.

Was everything in this house going to be difficult?

You shut your eyes and take in a shuddering breath. You can feel Sarah at your back, her presence radiating warmth. If you wobble, you feel her sturdy body against yours, so you let yourself lean into the partial embrace of her arms. She squeezes your shoulders, just as ice trickles down your spine.

Roland’s presence bleeds into your mind like condensation forming on the outside of a glass. It’s not enough for his thoughts or feelings to be tangible, but it’s so distinctly him that you smile and relax, easing the tension in your balled-up fists and opening your eyes. The room ahead is dark, but all you need to do is step inside for the lights to wake up and--

It’s not exactly the same as you left it, but it’s close. Your eyes roam the room, picking out all the various effects of teenaged you. There are posters on the wall, though some of the pixels have gone dark in their paper-thin construction, and models on the shelves, thick with dust. Your bed is perfectly made, the pillows hidden beneath a dark red blanket. Inevitably, your eyes roam over to a box bolted seamlessly into the wall, just above your nightstand. 

“Ah,” you breathe, staring at the box. “I see.”

“Is that…?” Sarah starts, but trails off, uncertain.

You can feel Roland’s curiosity curling up in the back of your mind. If you strain, you can even see his glittery-gold essence creeping out toward the box, but that gives you a migraine the harder you try.

You open your mouth to try and explain what it is, despite what it is being obvious. It’s a physical control panel for a domestic-grade Dumb AI. His name is still plainly depicted in the form of colorful stickers-- Admiral Hart. He hadn’t been active last time, but he hadn’t been gone either, so at least the sick hope flickering in your belly isn’t fully misplaced.

Still, is it worth trying to activate him?

“Roland,” you say, feeling quite outside yourself. “You can investigate it, if you want. Um, if he’s in there, could you…?”

“Of course, Captain,” Roland says.

Roland’s projection hovers in mid-air, thrown there by the custom commpad he was currently residing in. He smiles brilliantly at you and Sarah before bringing up what must be the digital counterpart of the control panel, his gestures as grandiose as ever, his expression just visible behind the transparent boxes. You hate it, but you distract yourself by leaning into Sarah’s space and kissing the bottom of her chin, staying there until Roland pipes up again.

“He’s in there, Captain. Says here he hasn’t been activated since… 2549. Very long service life, this one.”

Oh, that wasn’t too bad. Still, nearly ten years, completely shut down.

“...I don’t know if I’m ready to see him yet,” you say in one long rush of breath, the realization making you feel ill. “I do miss him, though.”

“There are also several other AI matrices in here,” Roland adds. “Why so many, if I may ask?”

“They were my teachers, when I was doing homeschooling. I’m surprised they’re still here.”

Dumb AI were very limited in their fixed personalities, but you swear they’re more sentient than they let on. One didn’t befriend several all at once and not experience some inexplicable variances, but dwelling on it was starting to make you feel hot behind the eyes. You shake your head, exasperated.

“Sorry, this is-- a lot more than I thought it’d be.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Sarah says lightly. “Want to go back downstairs?”

“Mind if I hang out in your house’s network for a little while?” Roland asks. “I won’t touch anything.”

“Go for it,” you say with a smile.

Roland winks and smiles before gathering up the tendrils of himself, more visible now that he was letting his essence ooze out between commpad, neural interfaces, and nearby network ports. Smart AI were remarkably fluid, or even gaseous, automatically filling in the void spaces around them, not because they wanted to be big as possible-- they were just that big. Still, you rub the back of your neck the same time as Sarah does, acutely conscious of the absence.

“Downstairs, then,” Sarah says. “Think there’s anything in the fridge?”

“I have no idea. Are you hungry?”

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday. To keep the motion sickness down, you know.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Her moving ahead of you prevents you from lingering too long upstairs, anxious as you are to keep up with her long strides. You have no idea where either of you are going to get clothes nice enough to go to a restaurant. Neither of you are dressed for it, let alone packed. Roland had suggested dressing as casually as possible to take the edge off, and well, maybe that was going to backfire. 

“I can feel you thinking too hard,” Sarah says.

She’s in your space the second you leave the stairs. But it’s gentle and unintrusive despite her taking up your whole line of sight. She’s teasing you, even as her brow is bent in concern.

“What am I thinking too hard about?” you ask.

“Hmmm. Something about your mom, like that stupid message she left us. Seriously, talk about a neutral location.” 

You laugh before you can stop yourself. 

“Got it in one,” you say. “I don’t know what she’s thinking.”

“Guess poor mother Lasky is going to have to come home after all,” Sarah says. “Isn’t that sad?”

She bumps your hip with the back of her fist, a playful nudge that, surprisingly, doesn’t send you stumbling. You punch her shoulder in return, silently following her into the next room, where the kitchen is. You watch Sarah go for the fridge and open it, head disappearing inside to scope out the contents. She retreats a moment later to throw something green and limp into your arms.

You catch it more out of surprise than anything, but you feel nauseous just holding it.

“What the hell is this?”

“Nutritional smoothie paste!” Sarah says, like she’s struck gold. “Used to eat this shit when I was a baby Spartan. They put it in Mjolnir on long-haul ops.”

“And that’s…. Is it good?” You ask, instantly skeptical.

“Hell, no. But I’m too polite to eat the meal plan stuff she has in there. So, drink up.”

Well, you couldn’t fault her there. You set the plastic tube of paste down on the faux-granite countertop, deciding that you’d rather let Sarah just drink both of them. You can’t stifle a smile as she immediately scoops it up, tearing open both of them at once and drinking them down in a truly disgusting fashion. But she doesn’t spill a drop, so... 

“I see you’ve gotten better at that,” you say.

“Roland made me promise not to make a mess if I’m going to be carrying the commpad,” she admits, looking exasperated for all of a split-second. “So.”

She tosses the spent bags onto the countertop, despite the trash can being directly underhand. You shrug that off in favor of grabbing her by the collar of her tank top and pulling her down, kissing her flat on the mouth. Her answering hum is felt in your bones and you both relax into each other, your anxious tension sapped by her solid core. She curls an arm around your waist and holds you in place, like she’s been waiting to do that.

“Relax a little,” she murmurs. “We can worry about her when she gets here.”

Not you, we. You feel a little weak in the knees at the distinction and let yourself hang onto her arms, certain that you’re looking at her with a dopey smile.

“But we probably shouldn’t do this in the kitchen,” she adds.

Before you can pull away, Sarah effortlessly hauls you into her arms, supporting you by grabbing a fistful of your ass and waiting until you wrap your arms around her neck. She squeezes your rear a couple times before moving, gait so smooth that you don’t even feel it when she turns on her heel to dump you on the couch with a flourish. 

You sink into the couch cushions, but wrap your arms around hers so that you don’t disappear completely. Her face is so close to yours that you count each individual scar and freckles, including the faint lines of surgical augmentations that only show up in the right light. You snake your hand up to the back of her neck, mindful not to grab ahold of the enlarged neural implant.

“Anyone ever told you you’re handsome, Tom?” Sarah murmurs.

“Mmm, I can think of a few…”

Her laughter is felt on your skin as warm puffs. She kisses you, her lips rough with bitten and half-healed skin that you nip at, chasing them when she tries to pull away. The plasticine fabric squeaks as she carefully, carefully lowers her weight over yours and straddles you, her thighs big enough to keep you in place. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“I will,” you promise.

You want to say that you know she won’t, but she always looks so earnest when she asks that this time, you don’t. Because she has before-- there’s a biological differential between the two of you that you never stop thinking about. You work your hand further up to pull her hair out of its ponytail, working your fingers into the coarse locks and kissing her more intently, eyes fluttering shut. I love you, you want to say. I trust you, which is just as hard.

Her hands roam across your shirt and pluck open several buttons so that she can follow the edge of your collarbone and the slope of your shoulders. Her warm, slightly sweaty palms are a sharp contrast to the cool air, and the shock of physical contact has goosebumps lifting on your arms. You lick at her lips and fist some of her hair, mumbling indistinctly as you pull her down closer.

There’s no smart quip or knowing look to make light of your neediness. She finally lets her weight drop onto your lap completely and the kiss moves on, her teeth and lips tracking across the edge of your jaw to just underneath your ear. Instead of letting your hands hover, you start to follow the hard curves of her body, groping at the bunching muscles and admiring the power coiled there. 

Then she snaps into rigid attention, face turned toward the front door, her lips drawn back in a snarl. You vaguely notice that she has a chipped tooth before you hear the door opening and Sarah is still poised over you and she’s kissing you again, hard, and you kind of moan into it--

“Well, then,” an all-too-familiar voice says. “Thomas, care to… introduce me?”

Finally, Sarah climbs off of you, but not before buttoning your shirt and kissing your forehead. Your brain already hurts from the mental whiplash of the situation.

“Um, mother,” you start. “This is Sarah Palmer. My partner.”

Your mother is shorter than you remember. Her hair, once a brownish-black, is in faded tones and grey at the roots. A scar that wasn’t there twenty years ago lurks just by her eye and she looks exhausted. Stress and worry lines make canyons of her face, ones that twist your heart to look at.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Sarah says stiffly.

She does not look amused. She doesn’t look much of anything except terribly stern and suspicious of the scene before her. You almost can’t blame her. Almost.

“You know, I was hoping you’d be here when we got here,” you say. “But it seems you’re still working.”

“Of course. Duty still calls, you know.”

You watch her as she shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up on the coat rack in the anteroom. Both nothing and everything has changed about her and it makes something in your throat tighten.

“Oh, I know that more than anybody,” you breathe. “Yeah.”

“I do appreciate you coming home, Tom,” Audrey says, not looking at you. “It means a lot. I thought I’d have to see you when the Infinity opened her doors to the public. That is still happening-- right?”

“Sure, it’s happening,” Sarah says. “Look, Tom, do you want me to…?”

You shake your head.

“Yes, but I won’t be back on Mars until then. Working nonstop has its benefits-- like a lot of vacation time.”

“That sounds like a dream, to be able to use it,” Audrey replies calmly. “I need to know if we’re having dinner tonight.”

You and Sarah share a look.

“I was thinking we could share a bottle of wine and shoot the shit instead,” Sarah says. “Or some scotch, if you have it.”

At that, Audrey looks amused.

“I never took you for a scotch man, Tom,” Audrey chuckles.

You don’t say anything as she leaves the room, no doubt seeking out the desired glasses and alcohol. The sun is going down outside, plunging the room in a deep red. This was going better than expected. You want to break open the window and run. You want to do anything but sit back down and draw out the table and sit in a semi-circle and “shoot the shit.” But you’re already sitting down and the bottle is open and you haven’t ate anything-- neither has Sarah, even, but with her augmentations drinking on an empty stomach is probably beneficial and--

“Good news, everybody! I took the liberty of ordering us some, what do you humans call it? Party food? You know, for all the drinking we’re about to do. You’re welcome!”

You choke on your own spit and your mother nearly drops the glass she’s pouring. Sarah, for her part, is taking the bottle and stealing a sip directly, if only to conceal a smug smile.

Roland is hovering inches above the faux-wooden table, drawn up to his full height with chest puffed out and expression gleeful. He flicks one hand out in a casual salute toward Audrey before trotting aside and sitting down, legs crossed.

“Cheers,” he says.

“Hi, Roland,” Sarah greets.

You had completely forgotten about Roland. Oops.

“Thomas, I do hate to ask,” Audrey says, peering down at Roland with a pinched expression, “but why is there an AI?”

“Oh, you know,” you say vaguely, waving a hand. “It’s classified.”

“I’m Captain Lasky’s boss,” Roland says, grinning. “So I’m allowed to be here, you see.”

“Are you my boss, Roland?” Sarah asks.

“No, ma’am.”

Audrey’s eyebrows shoot up. She takes a sip from her glass, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

“Well, I’m Audrey Lasky,” she says finally. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of the night goes painfully.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 17

Blackmail | Wrongfully Accused

Ao3

-o-o-o-o-

Clark sets the recording device down on the metal table in front of him and is careful to keep his entire being nothing other than professional even though the person handcuffed to the table in front of him is someone he's known for a very, very, long time. 

He honestly can't really grasp quite just what's going on tonight. He didn't plan to come to the Watchtower tonight, let alone lead an investigation involving someone in the super community… normally it was Bruce who handled things like this.

But well… given the situation… Bruce wouldn't be able to touch this one even if he wanted to.

"I just want to let you know that this conversation will be recorded, but any civilian names or personal details will be censored. So feel free to be open and honest. No secrets. Just tell me what happened."

Across from Clark, the man's hands clench ever so slightly, blood staining the fabric of his gloves. A beat passes, the fists loosen, and nothing is said. Clark can practically feel his restlessness. His heart is jumping to be let go. But he can't loosen the cuffs keeping his hands trapped on top of the table. This goes higher than him.

"Dick," Clark tries, "you need to talk to me if you want us to figure this out."

Dick's silent for a moment. Clark can hear his teeth grinding, like he wants to keep silent for longer. Clark keeps his gaze steady on Dick and tries not to focus too hard on the splatters of blood dotting almost every portion of his body. Smeared across his cheek. It's not his blood. 

Dick lets out a short exhale. "I already told the cops... I don't remember what happened. I just… woke up there."

Clark offers a smile. "That's okay. Then how about we talk about some other stuff you didn't tell the cops. Like why you were at the crime scene to begin with?"

Dick pauses. Worries the inside of his cheek. Then sighs as he clenches and unclenches his hands. "It's sorta a… long story."

"We've got time."

"Okay…" Dick breathes after a minute. "Okay… I... It started about a week ago…"

-o-o-o-o-

About two blocks away from Dick's apartment building, there's a grocery store run by a sweet old lady who definitely doesn't belong in Blüdhaven. The thing about her that’s so rare in this city is that she's kind—she gives cheap prices, donates unsold produce before it rots to various homeless shelters, and she never kicks out a single customer no matter how much they smell like drugs or look broke. She lets homeless kids sleep inside the store during the night, as long as they help her open the store in the morning. 

It's a nice grocery stop. Which is why Dick goes to it every other Thursday, the moment he gets his paycheck and pays his bills, to get groceries to last him until the next time he's paid. 

He didn't even realize he was in a pattern. That something about his life was predictable. It was just something he did without having to think about it. 

Every other Thursday was a shopping day. 

And unfortunately, it made him predictable. 

He doesn’t even realize how predictable until he notices a discreet, black car following him about a block away. Bruce always warns against predictability. It makes it easier for people to target you. And of course Dick's had to goof it up this time. 

He tries to keep towards the more crowded streets as he walks home, but the thing about Blüdhaven is that no one is out unless they really need to be. The entire span of road in front of his apartment complex is completely empty. The car pulls up besides him before he can even break into a run.

The side doors of the car swing open, and out walks two men dressed in dark suits and sunglasses. They have a classic american gangster vibe to them, but Dick has the feeling that these men have nothing to do with the gangs. Dick eyes the front of the car where another person sits at the steering wheel, unmoving. 

"Mr Grayson," one man speaks. 

"Look," Dick replies wearily, taking a cautious step back and holding his grand total of three bags of groceries closer to his chest. "I don't know who you people are, but whatever this is, I don't want any trouble."

"Of course not, Mr Grayson," the man replies. Dick watches wearily as the man steps aside from the back side door. "You must understand that we don't want any trouble either."

The gesture is clear. They want Dick to get in the car. He considers making a run for it, but then the man flicks the side of his jacket over, revealing a gun strapped to his hip. 

Dick swallows and approaches reluctantly. Here he is, thinking that the Dick Grayson kidnappings would have ended after he left Bruce and the manor behind. 

So much for that hope. 

The man takes Dick's groceries and shuffles further aside to let him into the car. The other man silently returns to his seat in the back of the car next to Dick, while the man who spoke earlier climbs into the passenger chair. The engine starts without another word. 

"Where are we going?" He asks, his nerves getting the best of him.

But before anyone answers, a hand is wrapped around his face and soon Dick's senses are overwhelmed by a sickening sweet smell. He tries to struggle, but he's easily overpowered, and soon enough, Dick's vision blacks out thanks to the chloroform.

When Dick wakes up, he's tied to a metal folding chair and placed in the center of a dark open space. Probably some sort of wearhouse. It's impossible to know for sure, because it's so dark and his head is spinning from the after effects of the drugs. 

He immediately tugs on the ropes that keep his wrists to his sides. He tries to kick out his legs as well, but nothing works. He's decently restrained. Well… they're definitely knots that he could probably loosen in just a few minutes, but well… he would have to be Nightwing. Dick Grayson? He's just some guy. 

"Well, well, well," says a voice in a very cliche manner. His head spins as he looks up to find who talked, but he manages to catch sight of the person as they walk into the light and stop in front of Dick, their hands folded across their chest. "If it isn't Nightwing."

-o-o-o-o-

"He knew your secret identity?" Clark asks, and he can't help but sound surprised. 

Dick nods, then bites his lip. "His name was Jesse Mullen."

One of the victims, Clark notes with grim realization. "What did he want with you?"

Dick sighs and avoids Clark's eyes. He stares down at the table like it's the only thing he's allowed to look at. "He knew I was Nightwing. He… used that to… God, Clark, it's gonna sound like I had a motive, and I promise I wouldn't-"

"Just tell me what happened, Dick," Clark says softer than what’s probably appropriate. Dick takes a deep breath and curls his fists once again. 

"Okay. He… he wanted me to work with them. Guard their illegal weapon shipments from the cops, clean up trails. He had pictures… proof that Dick Grayson was Nightwing, and he told me if I didn't do what he wanted or go to anyone for help he'd release the pictures and everyone would know who I am… and that Bruce is Batman."

Blackmail. Clark resists pinching the bridge of his nose.

Blackmail. A motive. 

"I couldn't just… I couldn't let our identities be outed, so I agreed," Dick continued, "I helped them. I decided to… treat it as an undercover mission you know? Find a way to take them out from the inside… I- I can give details on the shipments if you want?"

"I think we should talk about what led you to the scene of the crime," Clark offers, which he immediately regrets because Dick instantly shuts closed any doors he had open. 

"I told-"

"That you don't remember anything," Clark confirms. He sighs and gives Dick a level look. Dick looks tense. Upset. Like talking more will cause him physical pain. "Dick… I'm here because Bruce can't be. I need you to be open, and honest with me. Otherwise… Dick we'll be forced to send in someone else. Or J'onn."

Dick's eyes widen. "I know, I know it's just…" Dick pauses. Takes a deep breath. "Okay… okay. Um. So yesterday… Mullen sent me a message…"

-o-o-o-o-

"No shipments tonight, huh?" Dick huffs, dropping his phone down onto the coffee table. "Thank god. Then maybe I can figure out how I'm going to get out of this mess."

He leans back against his sofa, bringing his hands behind his neck so he can stare at the ceiling and think about how screwed he is. He can't even risk talking to anyone about his situation. Dick doesn't know where Mullen has put the photos he showed Dick… nor if anyone else has them. If he got Bruce or the others to help him take down Mullen and all his friends, there's no predicting how safe they'll be when the dust settles. People figuring out Dick's identity is a problem… but Bruce Wayne? People would go insane. 

No, Dick has to keep this to himself and find a way out of this on his own. He tries not to think about how the last time someone used his identity like this to blackmail him was Blockbuster… he tries not to think about how that one ended up. 

He stands up from his couch and looks back to his phone, an idea forming in his head. 

Maybe… while Mullen is busy doing whatever he does when he's not holding Dick's identity over him like a bone on a string, Dick can sneak into his office and find any clues on where his blackmail has spread to. 

Dick grabs his phone and rushes towards the closet where he keeps his Nightwing suit; soon enough Dick's swinging out into the night sky and landing right outside Mullen's office building. He's met here plenty of times in the past week to know exactly what floor and window belonged to Mullen's office. Unfortunately though, he's also been here enough times to know the window is bulletproof so he can't easily break in. He'll have to either go in from the floor or through the roof which, from Dick's current standing, is twelve stories above him. 

Through the front door it is. Or well, sneakily from the front door. He sticks to the shadows rather expertly if he says so himself.

There's a shocking lack of guards in the hallways. Mullen has hired thugs up the wahzoo. Every time Dick's been here in the past week, there's been guards practically in every hallway. In front of every door. 

Now it's just empty. 

Dick continues undeterred though. He's about two stories from Mullen's apartment now, and he can't worry about the lack of thugs when he's so close. 

He opens the door that leads to the next staircase leading another floor up and…

He wakes up. Rough hands grabbing his shoulders and tugging his wrists behind his back to be cuffed. He feels awful. He can't think. It's all he can do to get his feet below him as he's hefted up so he's standing. He blinks his eyes open, and looks at the scene before him with growing confusion. 

Blood. Everywhere. 

"You have the right to remain silent," the cop that had cuffed him snarls. Dick's heart pounds. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

-o-o-o-o-

"They took me to the Blüdhaven police department… tried to get me to confess to murder… they wouldn't listen when I said I didn't know what happened. One moment I was going through the halls and the next I'm being arrested… it's a good thing you guys showed up when you did… the detective was about to try and take off my mask." Dick paused to take a breath. "That's it. I swear, Clark, on my parents' graves, I didn't kill anyone. It's all just a huge misunderstanding."

Clark remains silent for a moment, trying to make sense of Dick's story. When the Justice League was notified of Nightwing's arrest… Clark couldn't believe it. They rushed towards the BCPD as quickly as they could to collect him before anything bad happened—seeing as the Justice League is responsible for dealing with its own members when it comes to things like this. Clark thought arresting Dick was as insane as the inmates in Arkham Asylum…

But then the police sent over the files they had on Dick's arrest. But then Bruce told Clark in secret about what Dick had almost succeeded in doing to the Joker. What Bruce suspected what happened to Blockbuster.

Bruce confirmed Dick, in extreme situations, had the potential to be lethal. The documents the police sent simply… confirmed it. 

"Dick, are you sure that's all you remember?" 

Dick nods his head. "I swear. I wouldn't- Clark you don't think I'd actually kill anyone? Would you?"

Five men. Each bludgeoned to death by what appeared to be Dick's escrima sticks. Electric burns littered their bodies. One's throat was sliced open with a wingding. Bruce doesn't want to believe Dick killed anyone, but he's forcing himself to. Clark doesn't think Dick could kill a human, but the evidence is there. 

Clark sighs, dreading the next order of business. He places a small device in the center of the table, right next to the recorder, and steals his nerves. 

"Dick, do you think you can explain this?"

The device hums to life, a blue LED flashes before a holographic screen appears midair, showing the surveillance footage of Jesse Mullen's office, where Nightwing barges in and leaves no one standing. Dick watches the footage with wide eyes, his skin losing more and more color the longer the video goes. As Dick watches, Clark can't help but try and find a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Maybe Dick was possessed? Or mind controlled? Or body snatched?

When they initially picked up Dick, J'onn had mentioned Dick not having any influence in his brain, but that couldn't have been anything more than a light reading. Maybe J'onn just needs a more in depth session with Dick's mind to find foulplay… 

Dick's heart wasn't lying when he told Clark his story.

Then again, most Bats know how to trick a super that can hear their heartbeats. 

The video ends with the police barging in to arrest Dick. Dick's eyes remain on the screen until the device flickers off. Then, ever so slowly, Dick's eyes trail towards Clark. 

"That…" Dick starts, his voice sounding rough and small. "It… couldn't have been me. I- I don't remember doing that. I wouldn't do that. Clark, please, you have to believe me."

"We're looking into it, the investigation is still-"

"Investigation?" Dick squeaks. "Is B- is Batman-?"

"Batman is locked out of the case because of his ties to you." Clark sighs when Dick's face pinches. "We're doing the best we can. Looking into every angle. All we ask is that you cooperate."

Dick nods his head, eyes still wide and skin still pale and heartbeat still honest. "I am, I promise, I'm telling the truth."

Honest heartbeat belonging to one of the most honest people he knows. 

Clark finds it in himself to try and offer a smile. He hopes it doesn't come off as tired. "Then, unless you have anything more to say, we can be done with this." Clark picks up the recording device and gives Dick an inviting look. Dick nods slowly, which invites Clark to stop the recording and stand up from his chair. "Just sit tight, someone will be over to take you to a holding cell for the time being. We'll…" Clark pauses, feeling unsure if he should say anything. He takes a deep breath. "We'll figure this out, Dick. If you're telling the truth, then I'll do everything in my power to find what really killed those men."

Hard resolve passes through Dick's face. He inhales and stares right at Clark with a fire in his eyes. "I'm telling the truth."

Clark finds himself nodding. "Then, I'll see you soon, Dick."

Clark turns from the table Dick's still cuffed to and opens the door to the interrogation room. With a single glance back, Clark shuts and locks the door behind him.

Clark will get to the bottom of this. For Dick's sake. And for his own. 

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 3)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton (more to be added)

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman Logan (more to be added)

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2

The man Virgil had carjacked, Patton he had said, hummed a soft tune as he pulled back onto the interstate. Virgil glanced down at the ice cream in his hands and took a second bite. Was he…was he actually serious about all of this?

Virgil was suspicious, but the guy had been nothing but surprisingly nice for someone who’d been kidnapped. The nicer he was, the worse Virgil felt about the whole, breaking into his car and threatening him at knife point thing. Maybe that was the point? Maybe he was hoping Virgil would feel bad enough to eventually just tell him drive to the police station so he could turn himself in.

Not likely.

It didn’t matter how nice the dude was to him, he was not going anywhere his mother might be able to find him. Nope. Not happening. Not after what happened earlier in the day. He’s just lucky he’d been snooping in his dad’s room trying to find where the man had hidden the Gameboy and found whatever radio thing dad had hidden beneath a floorboard under his bed.

Well. “Lucky” was perhaps not the right word, he thought as he stuffed an even larger spoonful of ice cream into his mouth while trying to force himself not to cry. Nothing was lucky about today.

He didn’t know why dad had the radio thing. (He was pretty sure at this point that he didn’t know a lot of things.) All he knew was that it was some type of communication device and his mother’s voice would have been undeniably clear on it even if people hadn’t been calling her by name. He hadn’t known what on Earth was going on. All he knew was that he’d backed away from it in horror and confusion when the message that Remington Gates was dead came through. Mom had said “good.” He’d hoped it had been some kind of trick, but when some guy had broken into the house to take him to his mother not even 10 minutes later, he’d pieced together the truth.

His dad was dead. His mom had killed him. And whatever her plans were for Virgil, Virgil didn’t want any part of it. Luckily, when he was 12, he’d watched a horror movie and hadn’t slept for a week. His dad had solved the problem by showing him how to use pepper spray effectively and then letting him keep a can of it in his nightstand in case anyone ever broke in to try to kidnap him. Virgil was… pretty sure dad hadn’t ever thought someone would break in and try to kidnap him.

He’d pepper sprayed the guy mom had sent and grabbed a knife from the kitchen before booking it out the back door.

The options had been the park, the grocery store, or try to make it to the nearest bus stop and hope a bus arrived soon. In a bid to be unpredictable, he’d gone to the grocery store. Of course, he’d needed to get out of the neighborhood and fast, but he knew a bus or any form of public transport would be easily trackable. The only solution was a car, but the problems with that were that Virgil didn’t have a car, he didn’t know how to hotwire a car, and his only experience driving had been when his older brother allowed him to drive a golf cart when he was 7 and he drove it into a pond.

Which had led him here, in a stranger’s car after waiting for him to come out of the store in the backseat and pressing a kitchen knife up against his neck. It had been… a day.

He finished the entire giant “concrete” ice cream thing Patton had got him and stuck it in the bag with the rest of the trash.

“Want to listen to the radio?” Patton asked. “Passenger gets to choose the station!”

“Er… sure.” Virgil reached forward to flip it on. They were far enough out of range that whatever station Patton had last listened to in town was now just static, so Virgil started to mess with the dials.

There didn’t seem to be any music channels that adhered to his tastes, so he just ended up on some pop station. He was just settling back into his seat when Patton’s phone started to ring from where he’d tossed it when he’d gotten into the car at the grocery store.

Virgil blinked at the phone. “Is that the Mission Impossible theme song?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Why does it sound like that?”

“It’s the kazoo version,” Patton explained.

“…Why?”

Patton just smiled. “I should probably answer it.”

“No!” Virgil said. “You’re not allowed to answer it.”

Patton shrugged. The music stopped after a few more seconds and then started up right after that.

“It’s my brother. He’s going to keep calling,” Patton informed him, “and if I don’t answer, he’s going to call the cops because he assumed, I was kidnapped. Which… in this case.”

“Shit,” Virgil said as the ringing stopped again only to pick up once more a moment later. “Shit. Fine. You can answer it, but I’m putting it on speaker and don’t try to tell him anything.”

“Yeah, alright,” Patton agreed easily.

Oh god, this was a bad idea. Virgil grabbed the phone and accepted the call before putting it on speaker.

“Hi, Lo.”

“Why aren’t you answering your home phone?”

“I’m not at home,” Patton said.

“Where are you?”

Patton considered it for a moment. “I’m… on a road trip.”

“A road trip?” the man on the other end of the line asked blankly. “What do you… what do you mean?”

“I mean, I got in my car and now I’m driving.”

“You were supposed to be home all week. Patton, I need you to be in the city right now. Where are you?”

Virgil shook his head wildly.

“I don’t know,” Patton said thoughtfully. “A road.”

“Patton,” the man groaned. “Why?”

“It’s just a thing that happened Lo, sorry if you needed me.”

“How is a road trip a ‘thing’ that just ‘happens,’ Patton?” he asked. Patton glanced at Virgil.

“Erm… it just did?” he said.

“Patton!”

“Anyway, I’m a little bit busy so talk to you later!”

“Patton do not hang up the phone!”

“Love you Logi!” He jerked his head at Virgil and Virgil hit the end call button.

The second the call ended Virgil groaned. “It would have been better if you just didn’t answer.”

The Mission Impossible Song: Kazoo Version started playing again.

“It’ll be best if you just turn that off,” Patton said.

“Won’t he just call the cops?”

Patton gave him a secret smile. “No, he’ll just think I’m being silly and ignoring him.”

“Do you do stuff like that often?” Virgil asked.

“Just enough so he doesn’t ask questions when I don’t want him to,” Patton divulged. “It’s a little brother thing, you know.”

Virgil flinched just a bit. A brother thing. He wondered where his brother was now. He’d always been nice to Virgil, but he’d also always been obedient to mom. He wondered if he knew about Virgil’s dad. The two had always gotten along even though he wasn’t Janus’s father, but mom was… mom. Virgil didn’t want to know whose side he’d take.

The ringtone ended and started back up once again. Virgil held down the power button until it turned off and decided to store it in the glove compartment so Patton couldn’t reach it as easily. (Though, perhaps he should have thought of that earlier, but he was new to the whole kidnapping thing.)

He sat back against the seat and started rubbing at the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Everything okay over there?” Patton asked.

“I’m fine,” Virgil snapped and then bristled under the raised eyebrow he got in return. “This radio station is just stupid,” he grumbled.

“Well, you can change it,” Patton pointed out.

The radio station wasn’t actually the problem, but it did give him something to do with his hands. He reached forward and started fiddling with the radio dials. About 10 minutes later he hit a radio station that wasn’t music, but some guy talking. Virgil paused on the station and sat back. Whoever the guy was, his voice was low and soothing.

Virgil closed his eyes and listened for a few minutes before he let out a startled chuckle. “He’s talking about Moth Man?”

He opened his eyes to see Patton’s face crinkled up into a soft smile. “He is.”

Virgil couldn’t help but start to giggle. He laughed so hard that it started to blur into sobbing. He felt a gentle touch on his knee and looked over at Patton.

“There are tissues in the glove box,” he told Virgil. Virgil nodded and reached forward into to the glove box to grab the Kleenex Box while still sniffling.

He blotted at his eyes and blew his nose before sticking the dirty tissue into his hoodie pocket.

Today had been a horrible day. He was exhausted. He leaned back against the seat and his eyes flickered closed.

“Do you want me to change the radio station?” Patton asked softly.

Virgil laughed again and barely restrained himself from going into another fit. “No, no,” he said. “It’s fine. I’ve gotta hear how it ends.”

“That’s fair,” Patton said and though Virgil had his eyes closed, he imagined he was shooting him one of those confusing soft smiles again.

The conspiracy theory radio guy kept blathering on about sightings of Moth Man in a deceptively calm tone.

Wow Virgil was tired.

…

Falling asleep while the guy you carjacked drove probably wasn’t a good idea.

That was one of the last coherent thoughts he had before he drifted off to sleep.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 4 My Master Post

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #52: Vlad III

It’s only a week until October begins, so this build is frustratingly close to being well timed. Anyway, today on Fate and Phantasms we’re building the Son of the Dragon, Count Dracula! Kind of. Vlad III is an Undead Warlock/Shadow Sorcerer, who’s all about cribbing as much as he can from Bram Stoker, whether he wants to or not.

Check out the level-by-level breakdown below the cut, or the build summary over here!

Race and Background

The noble Vlad III Dracula wasn’t a Vampire, but you are, so you get +1 to Wisdom and +2 Charisma. You also have 60′ of Darkvision, Vampiric Resistance to necrotic damage, and the ability to suck the blood from willing, restrained, or grappled (by you) creatures with your Bloodthirst. This deals 1 piercing damage and 1d6 necrotic damage, healing you and reducing the target’s max HP by the amount of necrotic damage it deals. Drinking blood this way also gives you a Feast of Blood, giving you advantage on Strength and Dexterity saves and an extra 10′ of movement for a minute. Feasts stack, so feel free to go on a blood sugar high for big bursts of speed.

I called you noble in the last paragraph, and I meant that both in personality and literally. Nobles have proficiency in History and Persuasion. Honestly all servants should have History as a proficiency, and vampires can warp the minds of those under their thrall.

Stats

Strength is going to be your highest stat: shoving chunks of metal through people takes some elbow grease. After that is Dexterity, you’re so fast on your feet it’s like you’re flying. Third is going to be Charisma; it’s not just how charming you are but how spooky you can be, and you are very very spooky. Fourth is Intelligence: your madness enhancement doesn’t affect you that badly; at least not in terms of your smarts. Your Constitution’s a bit low, but you can always get that from other people. Finally, dump Wisdom. You agreed to show up as Dracula, so you’re clearly not in your right mind.

Class Levels

1. Warlock 1: Today we’re answering the question on everyone’s mind: can you be your own patron? The answer is yes! Kinda. Taking your power from The Undead Count Dracula, you gain Pact Magic using your charisma to cast and a Form of Dread. You also get proficiency in Wisdom and Charisma Saves, and two warlock skills. I’d think vampire lore would fall under Arcana, and you’re pretty scary, so grab Intimidation too.

As a bonus action, you can use Form of Dread to transform into a monster for 1 minute, gaining 1d10 plus your Warlock level in temporary HP. Once per turn when you make a damage roll from an attack, you can force it to make a wisdom save or be frightened of you until the end of your next turn. You’re also immune to the frightened condition while transformed. You can use this a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus per long rest. Basically, this is your version of rage, except it doesn’t prevent you from casting spells.

Speaking of, grab the cantrips Chill Touch for some spectral hands gripping at your fores, and Eldritch Blast for some ranged spears. For first level spells, False Life will make you even tougher, thanks to your increased HP, and Arms of Hadar will give you a short-range spear burst.

For weapons, the Spear is an obvious choice for the impaler.

2. Sorcerer 1: Have I mentioned you’re a vampire? That also qualifies you for the Shadow Sorcerer class! First level sorcerers get more Spells that also use your charisma to cast. This time multiclassing spells is easy: Your warlock levels have their slots, and your sorcerer levels have theirs. You can also cast warlock spells with sorcerer slots or vice-versa. Shadow sorcerers also get Eyes of the Dark, enhancing your darkvision to 120′ feet, and Strength of the Grave, meaning you might not die when you die, as long as you aren’t taking radiant or critical damage. Y’know, like from the sun or a stake to the heart. This only works once per long rest though, so don’t go counting on it.

For your spells, Mage Hand will let you caddy around some extra spears in case yours get “lost”, Message will let you telepathically communicate with your thralls, and Control Flames will give you an extra bit of dramatic flair. Also, grab True Strike. Your favorite targets for impalement are pretty small, so some advantage wouldn’t hurt. 

For first level spells, Charm Person is a gimme for a vampire, and you should also   grab Sleep. Drinking blood? Best done on a sleeping person. Waiting for them to fall asleep? Dumb. Make their dreams happen literally so you can make your dreams happen figuratively. 

3. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers become a Font of Magic, giving you sorcery points equal to your sorcerer level, and the ability to burn spell slots for more points and vice versa.

For your spell, Ice Knife broadens the range of materials you can stab people with. To be fair, you could always flavor your eldritch blast as just “whatever’s nearby at the time”, but having spells with different types of damage is good for you. Diversify.

4. Sorcerer 3: Third level shadow sorcerers get another part of their Eyes of the Dark to kick in at this level. You know the spell Darkness without it taking up a spot on your list, and if you cast it with three sorcery points, you can also see through it.

You also get two kinds of Metamagic, letting you customize your spells the way you want. Extended Spell doubles the duration of a spell, up to 24 hours, and Distant Spell doubles the range of a spell if it has one greater than touch or lets you cast touch spells from 30 feet away.

For your spell, grab Shadow Blade. It does psychic damage, but so do all impalings if you do them right.

5. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, letting you customize your you the way you want. Armor of Shadows lets you cast Mage Armor at will on yourself. You’re pretty squishy, and that fancy outfit you’ve got on isn’t going to offer much protection. You also get a second invocation at this level, but just grab what you want, we’ll switch it next level anyway.

For your spell, grab Cause Fear. Fear: you cause it. It’s really that simple.

6. Warlock 3: Third level warlocks get their pact boon: the Pact of the Blade lets you summon a magical weapon to your hand as an action for even fancier stabbing. You can also turn a magical weapon into your pact weapon if you want as part of a 1 hour ritual. So swap out that other invocation now for Improved Pact Weapon, adding 1 to your attack and damage rolls with your pact weapon, and letting you use it as a spellcasting focus.

For your spell, grab Hold Person. This lets you grab hold of a person using magic, restraining them for the duration if they fail their wisdom saving throws. Vampires typically go for more of a hypnosis angle, but the effect’s the same so I wouldn’t sweat the details.

7. Warlock 4: You’re finally grabbing your first ASI at seventh level. Planeshift Ixalan gave us the vampire race, but it also gave a vampire-specific feat. Vampiric Exultation lets you spend an action to partially transform into mist, giving you a flying speed of 30′ that lasts for 10 minutes. You can use this once per short rest.

To further sell this new mist-based form of travel, grab Misty Step as your spell for this level. Now you can totally transform yourself into mist and teleport 30′ away. For your new cantrip, grab Frostbite for even more of the grave’s chill.

8. Sorcerer 4: Fourth level sorcerers also get an ASI. The Piercer feat increases your strength by 1 to get rid of that pesky odd number, and you can reroll one piercing damage die per turn. Scoring a critical piercing hit also adds one more die to the damage roll.

For your spells this level, Friends is Charm Person but less taxing on the slots, and Knock lets you invite yourself into people’s homes! It’s also really loud, so if anything it’s probably better as a distraction while you move towards the real way you’re sneaking in somewhere.

9. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers get third level spells. Haste adds 2 to a target’s AC, gives it advantage on dexterity saves, doubles its speed, and gets an additional action on each of its turns. After the spell ends, the target can’t move or take actions for a turn, so get out of the limelight before that happens.

10. Sorcerer 6: Sixth level shadow sorcerers can summon a Hound of Ill Omen, a medium sized direwolf that counts as a monstrosity instead of a beast. You also summon it with half your sorcerer level in temporary HP.  For three sorcery points, you get a hound that will chase down one creature who was within 120′ of you when it was summoned. It can pass through objects as difficult terrain, taking damage if it stops inside something. It can only move towards the target though, and only use its action to attack the target. If the hound is within 5′ of the target, they have disadvantage on all saving throws caused by your spells. The hound sticks around for 5 minutes, or until it or its target is at 0 hp. According to Stoker, you can turn into a wolf, so this is a nice compromise that won’t get fur on your suit.

Erupting Earth lets you make spears launch out of the ground in a 20′ cube, forcing dexterity saves for any creatures caught inside, and turning the whole area into difficult terrain, requiring one minute per square to clear away. Don’t let the bludgeoning damage fool you, these are totally spears.

11. Warlock 5: Fifth level warlocks also get third level spells. Gaseous Form lets you make your form gaseous, with a flying speed of 10′. You also get advantage on strength, dexterity, and constitution saves. There’s a lot of overlap between this and the exultation, but if you need to get through a wall, there’s no substitute.

You also get a new Invocation at fifth level. Thirsting Blade gives your pact weapon the Extra Attack feature, letting you make two weapon attacks in a single attack action.

12. Warlock 6: Sixth level Undead warlocks become Grave Touched. You don’t need to eat, drink, or breathe, and can replace an attack’s damage type with necrotic damage. If you’re in your Form of Dread, you can add an extra damage die when dealing necrotic damage as well.

To complete the effect of the Legend of Dracula, we’re also grabbing Animate Dead for some undead minions.

13. Warlock 7: Seventh level warlocks get fourth level spells. Shadow of Moil lets you wrap yourself in, well, shadows, dropping the light within 10′ of you by one level (dim to darkness, bright to dim). You get resistance to that pesky radiant damage, and taking hits from something within 10′ of you causes shadow spears to shoot out of your body, dealing 2d8 necrotic damage to whatever hit you.

You also get another Invocation at this level. You can use Gaze of the Two Minds to see through another humanoid’s senses for a turn, but you can use your action on each turn to maintain the connection. Not everyone has proficiency in a disguise kit, and now you don’t need to try.

14. Warlock 8: Use your next ASI to round out your Wisdom and Charisma for better saves against other spells and worse saves against yours. We’re also grabbing a spell from the Undead spell list, Greater Invisibility. Getting caught is for mortals, don’t do it.

15. Warlock 9. Ninth level warlocks get 5th level spells. Negative Energy Flood forces a ton of bad juju into a creature based on their constitution save. If it kills them, they pop back up as a zombie that isn’t really under your control, but will go around biting people anyway.

You also get another Invocation! The Unearthed Arcana Superior Pact Weapon adds gives your pact weapon a +2 to attacks and damage that doesn’t stack with the improved pact weapon. Hold on to IPW for now anyway, we’ll have something to replace it with a little later.

16. Warlock 10: Tenth level undead warlocks become a Mortal Husk. You resist necrotic damage now, which you already could, but you’re totally immune in your Form of Dread. Also, when you hit 0 HP, you can make your body explode. This deals 2d10 plus your warlock level in necrotic damage to creatures within 30′, and you show up again at 1 hp where you died. You keep all your stuff, and gain one level of exhaustion. After you revive this way, you can’t do so again for 1d4 long rests.

For your cantrip at this level, grab Infestation. Technically Dracula can control rats, but fleas are the biggest we can do on short notice.

17. Sorcerer 7: Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells. Blight lets you suck the life out of a creature within range, dealing 8d8 necrotic damage on a failed constitution save. It’s also weirdly effective on plants for some reason.

18. Sorcerer 8: Use your ASI to increase your Constitution for some more health and better concentration saves. 

19. Warlock 11: Eleventh level warlocks get a Mystic Arcanum, a sixth level spell they can use once per long rest. Create Undead lets you make fancier undead minions, Ghouls. 

20. Warlock 12: Your final level gives you one last ASI, which will boost your Charisma for higher spell saves. Also, at this level you can replace that Improved Pact Weapon that’s just sitting around with Lifedrinker, adding necrotic damage to your pact weapon’s attacks equal to your charisma modifier.

Pros:

The combination of sorcerer points and warlock spell slots is really powerful. Use your sorcerer slots as normal, then right before a short rest you can turn your warlock slots into points, and get a lot of spells back for almost free.

You have multiple ways to defy death, and plenty of way to pad your life total as well, making you a bit tougher to kill than your HP total would suggest.

Your distant spells and minions helps you keep a combat presence over a wide area without having to put in all the legwork or opening yourself up for attack. If you’re willing to spend only one short rest a day on just zombie upkeep, you’ll be able to make 15 zombies a day, or maintain control of 24, for absolutely no cost. Add to that the occasional wight and Hound of Ill Omen, and you’ve got a veritable undead horde on your hands. Even if your enemies wade through your zombie army, you can just fly away from them and their dumb whip. Sorry, wrong Dracula.

Cons:

Your health total and AC aren’t great, especially for someone who’s waving around a melee weapon. If you do get cornered, it could be a short fight, especially against paladins. Your low constitution also means low concentration, so keep your distance if you’re charming someone.

Your low wisdom score can be an issue when up again magic users. Fortunately, you being charmed won’t directly affect your minions, so you’ve got a way to break free.

Mixing spellcasting classes means you don’t get ninth level spells. An army of the undead doesn’t mean much to someone who can just wish you were never born.

Next up: He’s so fluffy, everyone’s gonna die!

[ko-riacchi]

Work Risks

Pairing: Bakugo x F!Reader Genre: Smut Length:  5.3k

This is a work that I’ve written years ago but now with this whole social distancing, I’ve got lots of time on my hands and thought, I’d try out actually posting stuff on tumblr. Please be kind to me. (Also I didn’t proofread this at all, so there may be a shitton of errors)

You were standing inside of a warehouse on the outskirts of town, in front of you the boss an illegal prostitution ring. After the police had investigated his case for months, they had finally been able to figure out where he was going to appear and had requested the hero agency that you were working for to go and capture the brains of the ring and whoever was with him at the moment.

To your left and right were several other pro heroes. Three were glancing at your opponent as well; a few others were already fighting with several of his henchmen.

You were still trying to come up with a plan on how to detain him, being cautious as none of you had any information on his quirk, when you detected a sudden movement to your right and saw one of your colleagues, Katsuki Bakugo, charging at the boss. Figured that he wouldn't have enough patience to calmly evaluate the situation and figure out his quirk, and instead rely on his raw power alone to just punch the villain into submission.

“Damn," you heard your other colleague mutter under his breath and you both watched as Bakugo tried to land a hit on this guy. Smoke engulfed the scene and none of you were able to see clearly for a second. Your other colleague cleared it with his wind quirk and it became clear that even though the villain appeared to be of a rather unathletic built, he had managed to dodge Bakugo's explosive attack and was currently bolting to the exit – and fast too.

Up until now you had just watched the scene play out, waiting for the moment that your power was needed. This moment was now. Your quirk made it easy for you to intercept and cut of his way of escape.

You boosted yourself to the exit, turning around to face the villain and closed in on him. Bakugo, sporting a pissed off grin now, was doing the same from behind him, effectively sandwiching the villain between the two of you. The boss took a look behind him and saw the hero approaching. He had seen his quirk and probably wasn't keen on trying his luck for a second time, so he charged at you, figuring your quirk had something to do with speed rather than simple destructive power.

You watched him running towards you and decided to take him heads on. If his quirk had been something offensive he would've used it already, right?

It took you only a fraction of a second to reach him, passing him on the right, stretching out your left leg which caused the villain to trip. Instantly, you grabbed his hand, twisted it behind his back and forced him to the ground. One of your knees pressed into his lower back, steadying yourself on the ground next to his head with the hand that was not restraining him.

Bakugo came to a halt next to you and let out an unsatisfied growl, annoyed that he had missed his chance to blast the bastard into oblivion. You turned your head to him.

“You got handcuffs? Don't really wanna lean on his back until the police arrives." Bakugo let out a “tsk" sound and reached behind him to get a pair of handcuffs that were hanging from his belt. You watched him, your attention away from the criminal for a second. The villain used this moment to use what little mobility he had left and stretched his neck, giving your hand and arm a nasty, wet lick, almost reaching your elbow with his tongue before you could react and slam his head into the concrete with your slobber covered hand.

“Ew!" you screamed and pushed your knee farther into his back, eliciting a groan from him. “You taste good, missy," he chuckled.

“What was that supposed to be?" you questioned him. The hand that held his wrist behind his back tightened and you heard him hiss quietly. He chuckled again, his words sounding muffled since he was still pressed into the concrete by your hand. “Let's just call this a parting gift for your good work, Miss Hero."

You were startled for a second but before you could question him further, Bakugo was next to you and took his free hand, snapping the cuff on him. You let go of his other hand, your knee still on his back, and waited until Bakugo had him securely. Slowly, you stood up and dusted off your clothes, even though they weren't all that dirty. You turned to Bakugo, who in the meantime had lifted the villain by his cuffed hands and showed him your arm. “Dude just licked me," you told him and proceeded to rub at the slobber furiously, not cleaning but rather spreading it, but at least it dried faster that way and it didn't feel as bad as before. First thing you were going to do once you were home was a nice, long shower to rid yourself of that pervert's saliva. You could still feel a tingling sensation and it disgusted you. Bakugo didn't answer you but instead walked towards the exit of the warehouse, dragging the villain by the cuffs. Outside you could already hear the faint sound of approaching police cars and you joined the other pro heroes outside, for the first time taking in just how many villains you had captured. It must've been around 15 in total, all of them in cuffs and held by one of your colleagues.

Once the police had arrived, you handed the villains over to the police who put them into the back of several larger transport vehicles. Now that the fight was over and the villains were off to the police station, a sigh left your lips. Even though you had been in the hero business for several years already, every fight filled you with adrenaline. You never knew what you would encounter that day or whether this fight would be your last or not. Your body hummed as the tension left it and you turned towards Bakugo. “So, that was it. Guess that means we're free to go now. Just gotta head over to the agency to report." Instead of answering, Bakugo started to walk towards your agency and you followed him quickly. You and Bakugo did not talk at all. Still, you knew by his fast pace that he was still annoyed, and you struggled to keep up with him, your pulse quickening and you body temperature going up. Strange, you thought, I'm this out of breath from just following him, I must be really out of shape. I didn't even use my quirk that much. I guess I'll have to up my training schedule. The walk continued in silence, you knew better than to try and talk to Bakugo when he was like that, even though you had been told by some of his old classmates from high school that he must've been even worse during his teenage years. This left you with time to think about the events that had happened. In the end, the villain never had used his quirk. Maybe he had been quirkless after all?

You reached the agency and continued on to the office of the hero you were working for. Curtly explaining that everything had gone according to plan (you left out the part of Bakugo charging in, because everything turned out all right after all), you two were excused for the day, since it had originally been your day off.

Now you really couldn't wait to reach the comfort of your home. Your boss's office was way too hot and it made you sweat. You entered the elevator, Bakugo beside you, and pressed the button for the first floor. The door closed and you two were once more engulfed in silence. Your body still hadn't cooled down and you were breathing heavily. You got out on the first floor and headed to the door. From this point onwards Bakugo and you would split, each going to their own respective homes.

“See you at work tomorrow, Bakugo," you told him, earning a nod from him. He turned around to leave and you were about to do the same, when you saw him stop and face you once more. “Oi," he called. Confused you looked up at him. “Everything alright?" he asked, trying to make it seem like he wasn't concerned – which of course he wasn't.

“Yeah," you answered. “I'm fine. Guess I'm just a bit out of shape and the boss's office was a bit too hot for me." Bakugo looked at you, not really convinced by your answer but shrugged with his shoulders nonetheless and left.

You started your walk home as well. When you had started at your agency, you had moved to a small apartment that was a mere 20-minute walk away. Even though it was just a small walk, by the time you had reached your apartment, you were totally out of breath, still feeling way too hot in your clothes, even though it wasn't that warm outside. The tingling that you had felt when the villain had licked you had returned as well, this time making your whole body feel weird.

You opened the door to your apartment, closed it behind you and let out a big sigh. Something didn't feel right, you admitted to yourself. Still you continued on to the living room, starting to take off your hero costume while walking, feeling the slight dampness that came from your sweating. You threw the top onto the floor and your pants followed quickly. Exhausted you slumped onto your living room couch. For a minute you just lay there, trying to calm your breathing. Instead of calming down though, it seemed that it only got worse. Now you were panting. Still you didn't get up and just hoped that whatever had affected you would pass. Ten minutes ticked by and your hopes went unfulfilled. You were still feeling like you just had run a marathon, your body now uncomfortably pulsing and your blood rushing through your veins.

Sluggishly, you reached towards your cellphone and opened your contacts. Your message was short, a small and simple “I need you to get here. Quick." was all it said. Why you sent that message to Bakugo of all people you didn't know. Maybe because he was the last person that you had seen before heading home, maybe it was because he was there with you when you captured the villain. Because now you were sure that it must have had something to do with him but in your current state you could not concentrate enough to make sense of the situation. Even though Bakugo was rash and impulsive, he was not stupid and could actually think logically.

On shaking legs, you stood up and went to your closet, pulling out a simple tank top and short combi, since Bakugo probably wouldn't appreciate you opening the door in your underwear. You pulled the tank top over your head and felt restricted immediately. Nothing I can do about that now, you thought and lifted on of your legs to step into your shorts. The other did the same thing and you pulled the pants up. During this process, your hand grazed the region between your legs and you let out an involuntary gasp. Your eyes widened in confusion and morphed to understanding a second later. Finally, it had clicked in your head. You were aroused, painfully so!

Your hand trembled as you reached down again and carefully touched the sensitive area. You hissed at the contact and closed your eyes as you thought about it. You didn't have a lot of time left before Bakugo would be here but still... now that you knew what was wrong with you, you could maybe take care of your problem before he came. He would probably be mad that you had called him here for nothing but then again, when was Bakugo ever not angry? With your decision made, you took a step backwards and let yourself fall onto your bed. Not bothering to take off your pants or panties, your hand crept beneath the material and a needy moan left your lips. Your hand delved deeper and you were surprised at how wet you were. Gasping, your hand pushed past your folds and quickly you established a fast pace, trying to get off as quick as possible. Your other hand soon joined and rubbed your clit. Within a minute you came all over your hand, moaning loudly as you threw you head around in passion. Your hands stopped, and you lay there just trying to catch your breath. After two minutes however, you realized that your predicament had not gotten any better, if anything it left you feeling hornier than before – panting, sweating and still itching for a touch.

Before you could think about a possible second round, your doorbell rang. You got up from your bed, your legs shaking, and made your way to the door.

Quickly, you opened it and stepped to the side to let Bakugo in. The door closed with a soft thump behind him and you turned toward your coworker. Whatever Bakugo had wanted to say – no doubt a snappy remark about being called to you – caught in his throat when he took in your appearance: flushed skin, a thin film of sweat covering your body and your breath coming out in small pants. “...The fuck is wrong with you?!" he exclaimed.

“Come in, we need to talk," you told him, going towards the sofa, continuing as you were walking. “I think that villain did something. I need you to help me figure out what and how to get rid of it."

“If he really did something, you should not be sitting here idly discussing it with me! We need to get you to the hospital first!" Bakugo retorted and grabbed your hand to pull you to the door.

What he hadn't noticed so far was how unsteady your footing was, so we you were turned around by his pull your legs gave out and you stumbled – right onto him.

Bakugo had not expected this and you both tumbled on the floor. For one second, everything seemed to stop. Your face was right in front of his. He looked at you with surprised eyes, the same type of look that you knew you were sporting as well. During the fall your hands had extended beside him, so luckily you hadn't butted heads with him. Still, your legs were a tangled mess. One of his legs was to your side while the other one was between your own. Intending to get up, the lifted his right leg – the one between yours – to get up and his thigh touched your covered core. The moan that involuntarily left your lips now made you blush madly and your hand shot up to cover your mouth.

Meanwhile Bakugo's mouth had opened, not believing the sight in front of him. “Y-you’re...," he started to say but then stopped. He didn't know what to say.

Your hand left your mouth and a small pant came out of it. With a strained voice you almost whimpered out to him.

“I just... I can't"

Only then did Bakugo notice that you had started on grinding on his thigh. “What are you...," he started but you interrupted him.

“Please Bakugo, something is wrong. It just won't go away, no matter what I do," you panted and moved your left leg, so you straddled him now. You started grinding him once more, now sitting on his crotch and his hands shot out to still your moving hips, gripping tightly.

“You need to stop this. What is wrong with you?" he breathed out and sat up, trying to get you to move.

“It's just... it hurts so much Bakugo. I don't think I can endure it any longer. Please help me," you whined. Your hands grasped around his figure and clung to the back of his shirt now. Now your face was mere centimeters away from his own and you watched him intently as you continued to grind yourself into him best as you could. Already you were starting to feel the effect you had on Bakugo and this gave you hope that maybe he would not outright shove you off him and leave as fast as he could. You could almost see the gears turning in his head and when his hands on your hips slackened you knew that he would not deny your plea.

“Fine, I'll help you but that all it is. Don't get any weird ideas, idiot. And don't think I'll be gentle."

Before you could answer anything, Bakugo crashed his lips on yours, one of his hands at the back at the back of you head holding it still while he nipped at you. You opened your mouth and he wasted no second to claim your mouth, roughly, exploring it to his hearts content. You moaned into his mouth and your hands grabbed at his shirt more tightly, pulling it up a bit and exposing his skin.

Bakugo let go of your mouth and instead gripped at his shirt pulling it over his head. He threw it away and it landed somewhere next to your shoe rack and a potted plant.

You took in the new sight in front of you. Even though you had seen his exposed chest many times, this time it felt different. Usually you wouldn't care, having already outgrown the age where naked chests could make you swoon, but today it sent the blood rushing to your cheeks. Bakugo noticed and grinned at you. “You know, you can touch if you want." His invitation was not left unheard and immediately your hands roamed his chest, feeling his muscles beneath it, tracing the variety of smaller and bigger scars he had gotten over the years. For some of them, you had been with him, but others he had gotten during fights that he had fought alone or with other pro heroes.

No matter how fascinating you found your exploration, you currently had more pressing matters to attend to, so you took your hands off him and instead grabbed your own shirt, quickly disposing it along with your bra. Bakugo locked in on your breasts, giving them the typical kid-on-Christmas look that almost all guys had when they saw boobs. His right hand lifted up and palmed your right breast. You didn't expect it to feel this good and you let out a small sigh that turned into a full-blown moan when you felt him playing with your nipple, twisting and tugging on it. Your head fell back, and he took the chance to latch onto your neck, sucking and biting roughly while continuing his assault on your breast with his hand. His other hand grabbed your ass and ground it into him. You grabbed onto his hair, your moans echoing through the otherwise quiet apartment. For a minute you let him continue his administration until you got too impatient. You core was pulsing with need and you couldn't wait for much longer, so you pulled back and got onto your shaking legs. Bakugo watched you curiously as you took off your pants, letting them fall to the ground. You hooked your finger under your panties but before you could take those of as well, Bakugo was in front of you and held your hands to stop your actions. Confused you looked up at him.

He grinned at you and maneuvered you to the couch. With a soft push you fell onto it. It took you a moment to regain your senses and push yourself up on your arms, and when you looked up at Bakugo, you saw him take of his pants. He was wearing simple black boxer briefs and you could see his cock straining against them. You licked your lips, something he noticed with a grin. Showing no inclination to further rid himself of the pesky garment, you scooted forward until you came face to face with his crotch. Your fingers hooked themselves under the elastic and you pulled his boxers down, his cock bouncing out of them and presenting itself to you. You let go of the boxers, which fell to the ground, and instead took his dick into your hand, appreciating the size and girth of it. You gave him a few experimental pumps and heard Bakugo hiss softly. It must've been not enough for him because he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your face to his crotch. Knowing what he wanted, you opened your mouth and took him in, your tongue swirling around the tip. Steadying yourself with one head on his thigh, you started bobbing your head, lewd sounds leaving your lips. Bakugo groaned and grabbed you by your hair, pushing you onto his dick. You choked, and he let go of you, so you could catch your breath.

“What? Can't handle it?" He gave you a devious smirk. You shot back a “You wish" and once more engulfed him within your mouth, this time going deeper and faster.

You heard him mutter an “Oh fuck" and the hand still in your hair started to guide you once more. For a bit, the only sounds to be heard were his groaning and the squelching sounds that came from your mouth on his dick. Suddenly, the hand in your hair stopped you from continuing any further.

He lifted you up by your arm and then proceeded to push you once more onto the couch. You scooted back, and he followed. Sitting in between your legs, he reached out to the hem of your panties, pulling them down and revealing the treat that laid beneath them. You pulled your legs up, so he could get them off completely. Without even sparing them a second glance he threw them away and directed his sight on your glistening cunt. He leaned forward and extended his fingers towards the moist heat between your legs. His fingers touched your folds and your eyes closed, the feeling almost uncomfortably painful, and let out a hiss. “Damn, you're wet,” Bakugo muttered and slipped one of his fingers inside of you, enjoying the feeling of you around his fingers. “I-I told you...," you panted, his now moving finger making it hard for you to speak. “...it's because o-of the villain's quirk or something. Now hurry up. I think I'm about to go insane.” Bakugo lifted one of his brows at your statement but complied. He took his finger out of you and instead grabbed your leg with his hand and pushed it to your chest, while moving closer to you. With his other arm, he supported himself next to your head and his face came closer to yours and you could see him smirk.

“I hope you're prepared for this." He entered you in one swift movement. Your eyes closed, and you arched your back, moaning loudly and spasming around his dick.

“Damn, you already came from that," Bakugo panted, feeling your muscles move around him and waited for you to come down from your high.

Once your breathing had calmed a bit and you had opened your eyes, Bakugo adjusted his hand on your thigh and started moving. You had figured from his personality and his earlier warning that Bakugo would not go easy, but nothing could have prepared you for what you were experiencing right now. If it wasn't happening to you right now, you would have thought it to be impossible to move at the speed Bakugo was moving at right now. He was literally fucking the life out of your body.

Moans spilled from your lips and your hands swung up and grabbed onto his back, trying to somehow steady yourself from his rapid thrusting. The sound of skin slapping skin could be heard throughout your apartment, you almost screaming now and Bakugo breathing harshly while he continued plowing into you.

You felt another orgasm approaching and dug your nails into Bakugo's back as he brought you over the edge. Again, your core contracted around Bakugo's dick and you felt as if you actually blacked out for a second before coming back to your senses. Bakugo had not stopped moving and fucked you through your orgasm, his brows drawn together in a concentrated scowl and sweat glistening on his forehead.

Even after your third orgasm, you still felt the painful arousal course through you and slowly you felt desperate. Would this feeling ever end? Or was is just going to get worse and worse until you'd ultimately die from it? Could you die from horniness?

Before you could think any further about your situation, Bakugo slipped out of you and you suddenly felt yourself switched around. Your face now pressed into the fabric of your couch and your ass was up in the air. Hands gripped at your hips and not once second later you felt yourself being filled again.

“Fuck!" you exclaimed. Bakugo had felt big before but in this position now he felt huge, stretching you further than you had ever believed possible. Your hands grabbed at the smooth material of your couch, trying to find something – anything – to hold on to, while Bakugo fucked you from behind.

Your moans came out muffled now, your face pressed into the sofa and you eyes closed, concentration on the way Bakugo made you feel. You could hear the blond pant behind you as he drilled into you. One of his hands came down next to you, and he leaned over you, his chest touching your back, while his other hand remained at your waist, holding and guiding you. His pace had become irregular now and you knew he was close. The same could be said for you. The way he was able to reach so deep, making you feel so stretched and full, had you tumbling towards your fourth orgasm of the day. The tightening in your belly almost felt painful now and you hoped that this time, it would finally sate your body's need.

Bakugo's hand moved from your hips to your clit and he began applying pressure, rubbing it steadily. This did it for your already stimulated body. You let out a muffled cry and your hips shook furiously as your (hopefully last) orgasm tore through you. Bakugo hissed at the feeling of your clamping wall and pumped into you – once, twice – before he came as well, a guttural moan leaving his lips.

His dick slipped out of your cunt with a soft “plop" and he moved to lie down beside you. You came down from your high and let yourself fall to one side, catching your breath and waiting – hoping – for your body to calm down. Silence fell over your apartment apart from the harsh breathing of you two. After a minute or two, you already felt better. You pushed yourself up on your hands and looked at Bakugo, who had his eyes closed. “Thank you, I feel better now."

He opened his eyes and replied with a “Yeah, whatever." One hand going through your hair, untangling the mess your activities had made, you stood up. “I'm done for today, so I'm heading to bed. If you want to, you can stay over as well," you told Bakugo as you left to plop down on your mattress and closed your eyes, neither taking the time to do something about the cum that was now leaking out of you nor covering you with your blanket. You lay on the bed like that and felt your body becoming heavier and heavier with sleep, when your heard soft steps coming into your room, followed by the bed dipping down on the other side.

Bakugo had apparently accepted the invitation and laid down beside you, one arm lazily strewn over you. He didn't say anything and neither did you, enjoying the silence as both of you drifted into sleep.

You woke up the next morning feeling a dull ache between your legs but – luckily so – no more arousal. Groggily, you opened your eyes and looked next to you where a sleeping Bakugo was still lying. He was lying on his stomach, his left arm around your midsection, and was snoring softly. A small smile played on your lips as you removed the arm from yourself and got up to shower.

The hot water did wonders to your exhausted body and gently you scrubbed your body, ridding yourself of the leftovers from yesterday's activities. When you were done, you stepped into the kitchen, busying yourself with the coffee maker. It was still early, you didn't have to go into the office until noon, so you could take it easy during the first half of the day.

When you poured yourself a cup of coffee, you heard footsteps approaching and a second later Bakugo entered the kitchen. You poured him a cup and handed it to him wordlessly. He took it and sat down on one of your kitchen chairs. You still didn't speak with each other, but you didn’t feel like it was necessary. The silence wasn't an awkward one at all, there were no feelings of shame or embarrassment. You both knew exactly where you two stood. You had had a problem and he had helped you out, nothing more and nothing less.

You sipped the last bit of your coffee and put the cup into the sink before turning around and addressing Bakugo. “If you want to, you can take a shower. I'll leave some towels out for you." He nodded and went back to drinking his coffee. You left him alone and grabbed some towels from the bathroom cabinet and laid them out for him. After that you returned to the living room and turned on the television, watching the morning news and the weather forecast. Bakugo had made his way to your bathroom and you heard the sound of the shower. You leaned back and thought about yesterday's events. While it was unfortunate that you had gotten into this situation in the first place, you didn't regret what had happened because of it. The sex was good – well, it was probably the best sex you had ever had – and Bakugo himself wasn't that bad to look at either. If maybe this was to happen again – without the effects of this guy's quirk or whatever it was in the end – you wouldn't have a problem with it.

The bathroom door opened and out came Bakugo draped in a towel. He gathered together his clothes that were littered throughout your apartment and dropped his towel on a chair, not caring if you were there or watching him. He dressed quickly and, once he was done, turned to you.

“See you at work."

You smiled at him. “Yeah, see you," you answered him, and he left your apartment.

You entered the hero agency and made your way to your boss's office, letting him know that you had arrived. Another blond joined you on your way and together you entered the office, greeting your boss and reporting for duty. He greeted you back and you two were about to leave when your boss started to speak.

“The villain you guys caught yesterday," he started. “We interrogated him. Apparently, he has some kind of aphrodisiac quirk that transfers by him licking his victims. That's how he was able to easily make to women bend to his will." You nodded, finally having the confirmation that your predicament had indeed something to do with the villain's quirk. Your boss continued. “Now that he's detained, there shouldn't really be any problem with this particular prostitution ring anymore, but I still want to you keep your eyes and ears open if you happen to hear anything, okay?" You two confirmed his orders, turned around and left his office.

You looked at Bakugo and smiled. “See you later, I have some paperwork to take care of." Bakugo grumbled in response and you took off in different directions, taking care of just another normal day at work.

[ssixa]

CHANCE ENCOUNTER//MARK TUAN X Y/N

Description: Walking into the night shift at the hospital proves to keep you on your toes. Nights are left to the universe so you can only hope that tonight will be decent. What happens when you find out that one of your patients is THE Mark Tuan from GOT7? how do you try to deal with the chaos erupting from this chance encounter? and how many times do you have to tell yourself that you love your job?

Genre: fluff, slight cringe, smut (in this chapter)

Pairing: Black Fem Reader x Mark Tuan (though I will say there isn’t much description of black characteristics)

Word count: 5.7K

Warning: explicit language, SMUT!!!!!!, mention of piercings, drinking, switch, slight restraining, breath play

A/n: sorry for the hella late post! I got in this solid routine of studying and I didn’t want to break my stride with it lol. This is the first legit smut scene I’ve written before the narrative about Narachan that I posted. I’m still not very good at writing smut though, but I enjoyed writing from the y/f/n pov! 

*All pic collages are made by me unless I state otherwise. Individual pictures in the collage are not mine and I give credit to where credit is due.

Chapter Eight

~y/f/n’s POV~

I opened up Yug’s profile and clicked chat.

“I can’t believe this bitch, imma kill her one day. But I’m happy, a little more happy then I thought I would be. How do I even start to message him? Why am I so nervous he’s a crackhead fetus. Ok, here we go” I thought to myself.

“Heyyy it’s y/f/nnnn” damn too many y’s

“Um hey y/f/n nuna” he replies almost instantly with a nervous emote 

“Yug, sweetheart you don’t have to call me nuna, y/f/n is just fine” I respond slightly flirtily 

“Oh ok...y/f/n. Um~” he responds

“Yes?” I respond already having a hopes of what he’s going to ask

“I was just wondering if you wanted to come hang out with me at the hotel? I fully understand if you don’t want to though and you would much rather stay with y/n” he sends with almost a nervous sense.

“I don’t mind as long as I’m not interrupting your rest time” I reply back just being certain

“Oh no you’re not interrupting, I invited you didn’t I?” 

“True, well I guess y/n can drop me off at the hotel then. You can go ahead and send the address to her”

“Yes ma’am hahaha”. Wow this boy has no limits, this will be an interesting night. I look to y/n who is on her phone purging the bad pics and videos from the concert. 

“Yo y/n, Yug said he’ll send the address of the hotel to you. You can drop me off there and go to your boo” I laughed

“Lol ok ok...Mrs. Kim” I joke

“Well said Mrs. Im” we broke out in laughter. What a circumstance we’re in. y/n starts the car and we leave heading towards the hotel. We keep ourselves occupied with small chatter back and forth when it occurred to me,

“Wait I just realized, when the boys were coming over to our side during the concert, was that because of you?” I ask

“Yup, apart from Mark, that was the first time they had ever seen me in real life. So I guess they just wanted to be idiots” y/n replies with a laugh. The drive wasn’t long, but that’s probably because we talked the whole time. We arrived at the entrance of the hotel and I texted Yugyeom that I was here.

“Ok, go ahead and head to the 7th floor. Room 723” he replied almost instantly 

“Gotcha” I replied. I said goodbye to y/n and walked inside. I headed to the elevator and walked in. I hit the seventh floor button and rode my way up. I took some deep breaths going up and until I was standing in front of his room. I knocked lightly and I heard footsteps rushing towards the door. A moment later, the door opens and I’m met with Yug’s adorable face. His smile is wide and he invites me in. After closing the door, he heads into the room and awkwardly stands a bit away from me. The air is full of an awkward silence until I speak up,

“Um do you mind if I take a seat?” I ask kind of nervously

“S-sure here” he points to the bed and neatens it up before I take a seat. 

“I guess that’s his bed huh” I think

“D-do you want something to drink? The boys and I went out together yesterday and I bought some drinks in case I had some time to enjoy it” he mentioned

“Oooo what kind?” I ask since I was in the mood for some drinks tonight anyways

“Some flavored soju” he says with a smile

“Perfect! Then of course! Can we also play some games too?” I ask excitedly 

“Yes! I love games! What do you want to play?” 

“Mmm, how about we start off with cham cham cham? Do you mind if we take a couple of shots first” I suggest excitedly.

“OK!” he jumps up and grabs the drinks from the minifridge. He grabs a couple solo cups and returns to the bed. He pours a shot's worth into both of our cups and we take the shot together. He asked me what type of drinking games Americans play and I gave him a few ideas.

“We have games like flip cup, beer pong, or even a card game like Uno” I relay

“Oh wow! Can we play one of those games?” 

“We can play beer pong since we can play it with two people, but if the others get back we can play flip cup! It’s one of my favorites and super fun too!” 

We continue small banter back and forth and we are a few shots in when we decide to start the game. I guess it’s because he plays this a lot more than me that Yug is really good at the game. I lose a good few times and the penalty is taking a shot or a flick on the forehead. We decided to make it more interesting and cut up slips of paper and put ‘F’ for flick and ‘S’ for shot. We grabbed an empty cup and threw the slips in it so whenever one of us loses, we shake it up, pick a slip, and do what is on it. It was my idea for this since we could easily drink all the alcohol he had. 

The game continued on with shots here and flicks here. A little while later, I could tell that we were both pretty tipsy; not super drunk, but gone enough to become really comfortable with each other. It was my turn at the game to cham cham cham him and he ended up seeing past my trick and dodging the direction my hand went. Next was his, he ended up winning so I had to take my draw from the penalty cup. To my demise, I ended up picking F which caused me to hide the slip. Yugyeom caught on to my sneakiness and asked to see the slip. 

“y/f/n, let me see the slip!” he says laughing

“Noooo!” I reply in a laughing

“Come oOooOOoOnnnn” he pleaded 

“Nope nope nope” I replied, shaking my head. My mother always told me my stubbornness would get me into trouble. I jumped to the other bed in the room trying to avoid Yugyeom. He got up and chased me there, I dodge him and roll off the bed jumping to his. No wonder he’s the main dancer because he changes direction and heads towards his bed. He hopped on top and fought to grab the slip out of my hands. I tried my best to keep it away from him, but all things considered, let's just say I lost. 

After we were done cutting up and trying to catch our breath is when I realized what position we were in. My back was against the headboard with my legs crossed while he leaned over me pinning my arms above my head with one hand. It’s when I finally opened and focused my eyes that I realized he was staring at me. His eyes looked glazed yet so dark. His nose and cheeks slightly tinted with a light shade of pink though I was unsure if it was because he’s embarrassed or because he was drunk. The contact remained persistent for only a few more seconds when he suddenly bent down and connected our lips. His lips were so soft and warm. The kiss was long and innocent and yet had me holding my breath. 

He broke the kiss and had both of our lungs trying to recapture the air that wasn’t breathed in. His facial expression changed suddenly 

“I-I’m so sorry y/f/n” he said with a sense of panic. I couldn’t even react properly, I just kept staring causing him to panic more. He quickly pushed off of me and scooted to the end of the bed.

“I don’t why I did that! I must have drunk too much..” he continued to panic and ramble on as I sat up.

“Yug, it’s ok, really, it was nice” I look to him trying to calm him down with a gentle smile

“I know I should’ve asked and not just done it, I-” he paused 

“You- it was nice?” he asks surprised at your choice of words

“Yeah~ you did catch me by surprise, but it was a nice surprise” I said quietly 

“T-then would you-” he stammered

“Yes” I answered 

“You didn’t even know what I was going to ask” he laughed slightly 

“Then what were you going to ask then” I say with a smirk

“W-would you want to continue?” he asks without making much eye contact. Scared that your previous answer was going to change. 

“Yes Yug. I told you I knew what you were about to ask” I laughed 

“Hahaha I guess you did” 

“Well then, are you going to come back here” I ask

“Anything for you” he replies as he slowly crawls back to me and centers himself between my legs. He closes in again where our lips are barely inches apart, but only a second later does he close the gap between us once again. Our lips move hungrily against each other, almost like he hasn’t had a sensation like this in a while if not ever. The kiss stayed heated and I tried to reach out to touch him in any way I could, but he tightened his grip on my wrists..

“Yug, please let go of my wrists” I beg

“I don’t think I will, baby girl” he replies lowly. The effect of the new nickname did it’s job in making me know my place. I find it hard to believe that he’s younger than me and yet he is this dominant. Then again I shouldn’t be surprised that the main dancer has a different personality. That’s one thing I’ve learned from being a kpop fan for so long. You can never trust these “sexy on stage” idols; them mostly being the main dancers at that. We go back to making out when he uses his free hand to slowly lift my shirt. I froze. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep with him it was that I couldn’t imagine that the person I was hooking up with WAS him. I started this day off going to the concert with my best friend only to find out she’s best friend’s with the group, and is now dating the leader. 

“Like damn, I really be living the “y/n” life right now” I think. Before I knew it, he somehow managed to pull my shirt over my head and now I was just sitting there in my bra and skirt. When I looked at his face, it showed no emotion, almost disappointed.

“W-what?” I ask nervously with obvious concern in my voice. I start to panic, normally I’m really bold with my foot always forward and my head high, but his gaze and just who he is...what the hell has this child done to me. I look down to see if there was something wrong and look back up when I don’t see off. When I look back into his eyes, he’s just staring at me.

“Yug...you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” 

“You’re..just so…” he starts

“Yug don’t you fucking dare” I say almost angrily.

“...beautiful” he concludes. I thought he was going to say something else before I warned him, but when I looked at his eyes, all it showed was the most sincerity in the world. The black glaze from earlier was gone and his beautiful brown eyes sparkled like they just gazed upon the most beautiful picture in the world. He leaned back in starting to kiss my lips once more then making his way down to my neck and truthfully I can’t tell if there will be a mark left after this. Goosebumps start to form as he keeps moving down onto my shoulders. Light, yet warm kisses coated my skin that was left bare to the air conditioned room. He got down to my chest where he was able to unsnap my bra from the back which REALLY led me to think that he wasn’t as inexperienced as he looks. My thoughts were suddenly brought out of its state of euphoria when I heard a gasp. I snap my head up,

“Fuck...how many piercings do you have?” he questioned

“Oh sweetheart there’s more to come” I comment with a smirk

“Will I have a chance to see them?” he questioned a slight smirk and raised eyebrow

“Anything for you” I wink. What the hell is wrong with me. This isn’t like me at all! I’m never this cheesy when it comes to getting my back blown out, but I just can’t figure this kid out. One moment he looks like he could devour me whole, while the next he looks like a kid in a candy store. 

“That’s all I needed to hear princess” he says with his voice almost significantly deeper than usual. He goes to suck on one of the nipples while kneading the other and the pleasure is beyond the roof. I let out a soft moan which wasn’t soft enough because his actions suddenly changed. The hand kneading the one breast made its way down my stomach and to the edge of the skirt. He pushes back,

“Now, I’m going to release your hands and I’m going to need you to take off your skirt for me. Why don’t you be a good girl and do that for me?” he says

“Ok...but” you start

“I can’t be the only one fully naked out here. At least take off your shirt” you conclude. Finally, after this whole night since the concert ended, you’re showing signs of yourself once again. 

“Whatever you want sweetheart” he complied, releasing your hands. You get off the bed causing a look of confusion. You turn towards him and put your hands behind your back. You slowly start undoing the zipper at the back and you see the realization suddenly hit his eyes. He sits at the edge of the bed leaning back using his arms as support, enjoying the show that he knows is only for him. As I start shimming out of the skirt and seeing his eyes watch where my hands are, I stop.

“Why’d you stop?” he questions

“Last I checked, I said I wasn’t going to be the only one without clothing” I relay 

“Sorry, just enjoying the show. I hate missing good moments of a great movie” he winked

“Well looks like you hit the rewind button” I comment pulling my skirt back up and reaching for the zipper. 

“Oof you’re really going to make this a fun time huh?” he laughs

“Of course” I wink. He stands up and removes his shirt showing his pale yet fit self. You just stand there gazing as this boy built for the demigods. That’s when you truly realize that god truly picks favorites, though I know he’s worked hard for that body.

“Like what you see?” he slyly says 

“Who wouldn’t” I replied without looking back up. It didn’t take you long to rid yourself of your skirt. Though he was still wearing more clothes  than you were, it still felt better that he didn’t have a shirt. This wasn’t a moment of teasing during a concert where it is only a moment that a shirt gets raised, this is close to permanent and with more purging of clothing coming down the road. You both stood there just looking each other in the eyes. A deep breath held by much tension was let out and that’s when Yugyeom picked me up behind the knees and laid me down on the bed.

It wasn’t a foreign fact that his hard on was rubbing against my clothed core. He knew exactly what he was doing, he grinded harder and I let out a subtle moan. He dragged one of his hands down my sides and past my underwear. He rubbed my clit in circular motions with just the right amount of pressure. His index finger slid down my slit, teasing my opening

“Fuck Yug, please” I begged. 

“Damn you’re so wet” he seeths. Luckily he wasn’t fully ignoring my pleas. He slipped his finger in and slowly started pumping. The moans that left me could not be described with words. He easily found the one spot that could ruin me and made sure to hit it. Suddenly, he slides in a second finger. I let out a louder moan than before and continued to receive the pleasure he had been giving. He pumped harder and rubbed my clit faster and the tension in my stomach kept building,

“Fuck I’m close daddy” I moaned out. My eyes shot open in realization of the word that just left my mouth

“What did you just say?” he says in a low voice

“N-nothing” I squeaked out avoiding eye contact with him

“Say..It” he growled in what I would’ve thought a demon would sound like.

“D-daddy” he said quietly 

“Louder” he commanded 

“Daddy” I muttered slightly louder and more boldly. This I knew about myself; this daddy kink has always been a thing about me, but I have never uttered that word from just finger play and even someone younger than me. 

“Now what would you like daddy to do? Hm?”

“Please, I’m so close”

“As you wish sweetheart” he replies. He throttles the two fingers back into my warmth and curves his fingers up; with his thumb back on my clit. Knowing exactly where to hit, I let out a loud moan. My respirations grew deeper and faster as he kept pumping. The tension built more and more until I couldn’t bare it anymore.

“Fuck fuck fuck” I moan out. My body erupts in spasms almost immediately and it takes a minute for me to calm back down. My breaths slow as I catch my breath and realize how this might look. I couldn’t think of how I might look and I shield my face. 

“Why are you covering your face?” Yugyeom lightly chuckles

“I probably look a mess right now” I reply back

“y/f/n, you look beautiful” he compliments removing my hands from my face. He lays down beside me, almost exhausted himself.

“Why are you the one that’s tired? You weren’t the one that just got finger fucked” I laugh

“Seeing you like this, truthfully takes my breath away...and you forget that we just performed a two and a half hour concert” he replies back jokingly 

“Wow ok cringe, and that makes sense” I reply back. I lay to my side and he pulled me into his chest.

“Don’t you want a turn?” I ask after a moment of silence

“Nah I’m fine. Let’s just lay here” he says soothingly. Now, I know better and though I’m sensitive and truthfully tired, he seems to have unfinished business that is screaming to be dealt with. I slowly start moving my butt against him trying to gain a reaction from him. He slightly growls,

“W-what are you doing?” he asks nervously 

“You seem to have some unfinished business and I just wanted to solve it for you” I replied. I started moving faster as I feel him growing harder and...bigger? 

“Y-y/f/n” he moans out 

“Now tell me what you want baby boy?” I reply back slightly 

“P-please…” he sputtered 

“Please what? Use your words” I state. I was happy that I was finally getting back to my regular self.

“Please, I need you” was all I needed. I turned to face him and pulled my arm down to his crotch. My hand grabbed his covered member and started slowly massaging it. He let out a small moan, but tried to keep it suppressed. I was determined now to make him moan louder. I put my hand in his sweats and realized 

“No underwear?”

“Well they tend to be a little constricting so I choose not to wear them when I don’t have to” he mumbles out. I nod understanding his position. Hell, I understand because I hate wearing a lot of clothes when I’m at home. I grab his member and start pumping slowly. His breaths were getting deep so I decided to switch my tactic. I turned him on his back and got between his legs. I grabbed his waistband of his light gray sweatpants and slowly started inching them down. Throughout this whole process, my eye contact never left his. His stare was so innocent and his face was obviously getting red. I locked my eyes back on his pants once they were pulled far enough. His hard member shot up finally being set free from the constraints of the waistband. 

He was a decent size, not super big but not small either. It stood boldly and was already slightly oozing with precum. I knew better than to gawk because he might take the opportunity to take control back and I sure in hell wasn’t going to let that happen again. I pumped him more and lowered my mouth to it. I start to bob my head up and down at a steady pace. A string of curse words made their way out of his mouth along with some moans as well. I kept bobbing and stroking his member for a little while longer until I felt him jerk his hips up. I hold them down preventing him from bucking them up again. I do help further the pleasure by hitting the back of my throat a little more often than before. He tried grabbing my hair and I decided to hold down his arms. That proved to be pointless since he was a lot stronger than me. 

I released his member from my mouth and he snapped his head up.

“Why did you stop?” he wined

“I can’t have you grabbing my hair now can I?” I comment

“S-sorry” he apologizes 

“No~ that won’t work now will it” I smirk. I got off the bed and looked around for a second until I found what I was looking for. I went to his luggage, opened it, and started looking through it. 

“What are you doing?” Yugyeom questioned 

“Just looking for something...found it!” I exclaim. I turn around and hold up two belts with a smirk on my face.

“W-what are you going to do with those?” he shockingly asks with wide eyes

“This will keep those lovely hands of yours to yourself” I reply 

“Fuck, this is going to drive me insane not being able to touch you” he sighs

“Mmmm, I’m going to enjoy this” I say as I get back on the bed and straddle him. Luckily, and unusually, the hotel beds here came with a “usable” bed frame. I grabbed one of his arms and pulled it back. I tied one belt around his wrist then around the bed post frame. I grabbed the other arm and did the same. This is one thing I can say I’m good at, though I don’t think girl scouts taught us tying skills to be used for this reason. After making sure the belts were nice and tight, I went back to being stationed between his legs. I place my mouth back on his stiff member and my hand at his base helping me pump as I suck. He moans more than before and I guess it’s because of being restrained that causes it. 

“Fuck I’m so close, keep going, I’m so fucking close” he moans out. I picked up my pace to get him to reach his climax. Only a few seconds later do I feel his hips bucking up, hot liquid shoot to the back of my throat along with a string of curses. I milk him for all he’s worth taking my time to look at his face curling in pleasure. I release him and crawl my way up to his face. He opened his eyes and we made eye contact. I swallowed the liquid and used my finger to swipe my bottom lip showing that I would leave nothing of his wasted.  

“Fuck...I can’t….fuck” he mumbles. I smirk as I scooted to get off of him, fully satisfied by my accomplishment. That was short lived when I realized that his member was still slightly erect.

“I see that someone isn’t satisfied quite yet” I laugh

“What can I say, you have me horny as fuck” he replies with a sigh

“Well we can’t have that, now can we” I smirk. I get off the bed and remove my underwear that proves to be pointless at this point. I get back on top of him and center myself above his member. As I began to lower myself down, he stopped me

“Wait I think there’s a condom in my bag” he states

“Don’t worry, I’m on birth control” I state. With a breath, I slowly let myself down onto his member. We both let out moans of pleasure as I was being filled and he was being enveloped around my walls.

“Fuck, y/f/n, you’re so tight. god you feel incredible” he moans out 

“Yug you feel so good, fuck” I moan out as well. I give myself a little time to adjust from being stretched out so suddenly. Once I felt settled I started moving slowly. More strings of moans were let out by the both of us. Yug tried to reach out, but groaned out of anger forgetting he was restrained. 

“Damn, y/f/n let me out of these. They’re driving me insane” he uttered angrily 

“Hmm we’ll see, I quite enjoy this” I laughed. To increase the torture I decided to pause for a moment. 

“Why did you stop?” he growled. I said nothing and just looked him in the eye. I put my hands on my boobs and slowly started massaging them. I slowly started moving my hips back and forth trying to stimulate myself as much as possible. I threw my head back in pleasure that I was inducing myself. Yug was struggling to rid his arms of the restraints,

“Shit, take these things off of me. I can’t stand it, FUCK I can’t touch you” he angrily says. Seeing him struggle and beg just turns me on even more. I think it’s because of how much he exudes big dick energy, that seeing how he looks so vulnerable had me at my wits end. 

“Fuck, please!” he begs

“Damn, ok. I bet your arms are tired” I slightly give in. I lift up off him and go to untie his hands. As I release the second arm, I realize my mistake; maybe I riled him up a little too much. He suddenly pulled me on the bed and flipped me over with my arms yet again trappe above my head. My eyes were wide and my heart racing fast,

“Sweetheart, you made daddy very mad by all the teasing” he commented with his eyes covered by his bangs. Damn he looks hot.

“Oh did I?” I say with an innocent look

“Don’t play innocent sweetheart, you knew exactly what you were doing and now you’re going to pay for it” he says with a growl. He grabs my arms and one of the belts and ties them up. Well played Yug, well played. He leans over me and without warning, shoves his member into me.

“FUCK, SHIT!!” I scream out. He thrusts at a sporadic pace that drove me crazy. I knew this was payback and I greatly regretted torturing him earlier. He was missing my g-spot intentionally every now and then and it was driving me up the wall. He reached his hands up to my boobs and started massaging them while he started grinding at a slower pace. I moaned out in pleasure and I could see a smirk form on his face

“Damn, do you feel that good?” he cocks. Nothing but a string of moans leave my mouth as a response.

“So how does my princess want me to continue?” he asks continually grinding into me

“Please...harder...harder” I reply

“Harder what beautiful?”  

“Please harder daddy” 

“As you wish my queen” he replies. Damn that new name change just increased this ecstasy. He did as he was told and went harder. 

“Fuck I’m so close Yug” I moan out

“Me...too” he moaned out a reply. He slowly slid his hand up around my throat and slightly squeezed unexpectedly which caught me by surprise. My eyes crept open making direct eye contact with him

“Yug…” I squeak. His eyes are dark and lustful, but it was almost like he was broken out of a trance, he snatched his hand away and halted his movements altogether. 

“y/f/n, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I...I..” he panicked 

“Yug, it’s ok. Shit it was hot please keep going I’m so close” I assure him

“A-are you sure?” he looks with such innocent eyes

“Yug I swear If you don’t finish what we started I will end you” I threaten

“Alright alright” he says as he leans back down to kiss my lips. He started to pound into me quickly and without warning or hesitation again . He returned his hand back to my throat and after the two words of “I’m close” slipped my lips, he started to squeeze harder. I could tell he was reaching his climax due to his movements getting sloppy and the rhythm being less consistent. Deep moans rung throughout the room as we both hit our climaxes. The constriction around my neck really made it all the more euphoric. He thrusted his hips a few more times helping me ride out my high. After a few deep breaths were given out before Yugyeom collapsed beside me.

“Oh my god…” he says still trying to regain the lost air

“...that was amazing,” I finished. We turned to look at each other and he leaned down giving a long kiss to my sweaty forehead. He pulls me into his chest and I feel my eyes getting heavy. 

“You getting sleepy?” Yugyeom softly speaks up

“Mmm” was all I could respond

“Do you want to get cleaned up a little first?” he suggests

“I know I should, but I’m so lazy now” I whine in almost a sleep type manner

“Here let me help you” he responds. I feel the dip in the bed disappear and I force my eyes slightly open. Before my brain could comprehend what was going on, I felt my body being lifted off the bed.

“What are you doing?!” I exclaim in a slight chuckle

“We both need to freshen up anyways and…” he draws out

“And what?” I look at him in confusion

“Well, I don’t think Mark hyung would be appreciative of us stinking up the place” he laughs

“True he would probably stop rooming with you during tours” I laugh as we proceed to the bathroom.

“I can’t have that!! I get really lonely during tours and no one else wants to share a room but he’s the only one that doesn’t mind” he fake cries. (V Live, 05122018; http://kpopherald.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=201805131852414957228_2) 

“You cry baby” I laugh while lightly hitting him on his shoulder

“Do you mind putting me down? You’ve been standing in the bathroom, holding me in this bridal style for the past 10 minutes” I continue

“Nope, this is nice” he grins, but puts me down into the already filling bathtub...wait...when did he even do this? Oh well nevermind. I see him grab some soap he brought from the sink and pour it into the bathtub. I’m surprised, and also not, that this man would enjoy bubble baths, but I can’t complain, who doesn’t like bubble baths. After pouring a decent amount in, he hops in and sits behind me. We sit in the quietness of the bathroom with the warmth of the water and our bodies keeping us comfortable. We continued small banter back and forth until we decided that it was time for us to get out and dry ourselves off. 

Yugyeom told me to wait as he ran into the room and came back with one of his shirts for me to wear. I threw it on as he put on his own clothes as well. We went back in the room and Yugyeom jumped in the bed while I headed to the window. 

“What are you doing?” Yugyeom looks over to ask 

“Opening the window, this place might need a little airing out. Let’s spare Mark the details” I laugh

“Makes sense, but sometimes I like to bully hyung. I’ll refrain this one time though” he laughs. I laugh along as I return to the bed after opening the window. Luckily, it was a cool night so leaving the window open wouldn’t be too much trouble. We cuddled together and I could feel some heavy breathing from behind me. I turn around, and smile slightly to see he’s fast asleep. He looks so precious and cute it’s crazy to think that this same boy was the same one who went crazy down on me earlier. I turn back around to have my back against his chest when I hear my phone go off. I reach and answer it,

“Bbbiiittcchhh you done getting your back blown out?!” I hear y/n scream through the phone

“y/n you drunk?” I ask laughingly 

“Well of course! Now ANSWER MY QUESTION!” y/n sasses

“Yes we’re done lol. I was just about to fall asleep when you called. Now I’m pretty sure you’re too drunk to drive back to my place so you spending the night with your new boo?” I ask slightly groggily 

“Good! I made sure the dinner lasted a little while longer, so you’re welcome. And yes! They’re letting me head to JB’s room first to avoid any suspicion and he would follow me in later” y/n rambles on 

“That’s nice, well a bitch is getting tired so imma have to talk to you later” 

“OKIE DOKIE GOOD NIGHT!!!” y/n replies and hangs up the phone. I place my phone back on the nightstand and cuddle back into Yug before drifting off to sleep.

Previous/Next

[sinforamin]

1-35 😌

You b a s t a r d

I absolutely don’t have to answer any of these but since I’m NICE I will commit to all of them

1. Why does tickling matter so much to you?

Touch is a huge, huge part of intimacy, romantic and platonic. Obviously tickling is a kink for me, but soft intimacy is something I don’t think I’ve ever really had growing up or in other relationships. I guess with the more touch I feel I can give and receive, the more I can really feel at home with people

2. Would you tell your S/O about your love for tickles? How would you start that conversation?

It’s already been done! In the past, I’ve tried easing them into it by incorporating it extremely lightly in some level of intimacy, with varying degrees of success. Say that you enjoy it, that it makes you happy, and see how they feel about it. Always make sure they feel comfortable along the way

3. What is your greatest fear involving tickling?

I guess that no one would really want to have me as their ler/lee. Self-deprecating thoughts of feeling unlovable or unattractive make this difficult, but I try to trust how others feel rather than how I feel about myself.

4. Do you have a favorite place to be tickled/to tickle? If so, how would you want that spot tickled/to tickle that spot?

I love tickling hips/thighs/tummy. Just gotta...wrap my arms around you from behind and lightly tap around there while I nom on your neck. That’s the dream

5. What “type” (or “types”) of Ticklee/Tickler/Switch are you? (Goofy? Sadistic? Ruthless? Shy? Etc.)

All of the above, depending on who I’m with! I think my default is starting out goofy and light, then switch over to being a soft, gentle dom/ler or a cruel, sadistic ler, depending on the lee’s preference. 

I think I’m pretty shy as a lee, but I really only become lee if I choose to. If I really wanted to, I could easily switch into ler mode and overpower you, so watch out :) (BUT if I happen to choose to be lee I will be shy and soft and you’re not allowed to tease/praise me cause that’s meaN)

6. Describe your laughter/the sound of laughter you crave to hear.

Classified :) (also I crave everyone’s laughter, even silent laughter is wonderful to me)

7. Do your friends know about your love for tickles? If so, how did they react? If not, what’s holding you back?

One particular friend group knows! We took turns around the group chat figuring each other out, but they didn’t get to me at the time. When we were hanging out irl, they asked me right after one couple was tickling each other and had to escape. I told them and they were slightly mortified but we all laughed about it later.

8. What do you wish you could change about the Tickle Community?

Less drama more pajama, it’s a bit cliquey and I kinda wanna befriend everybody!!! But that’s okay it’s kinda bound to happen with any community at some point

9. Who is someone in the Tickle Community you admire or wish you could get to know better?

I absolutely admire @twordish she is such a sweet, kind soul, and is super fun and easy to be around which is a TREASURE for someone as socially awkward as me

10. Do you have a favorite tickling scene from a movie/book/TV show/fanfic/etc.?

I think the one that stuck with me the most was that one episode of My Life As a Teenage Robot with the nerve implants

11. Favorite memory involving tickling?

Any intimate moment with tickling involved! They’re few and far between so I cherish them, and hope for more in the future

12. Who is one person you would love to tickle/tickle you the most out of EVERYONE in the world (real or fiction)?

In general: I’d vastly prefer to have my close friend to tickle/tickle me. It’s just a whole different experience with people you trust. As far as celebrities go, idk I never had a fantasy with anyone in mind. Maybe Gal Gadot? She’s absolutely gorgeous and soft and bubbly at times and that one post of her tickling people may or may not send me

13. What is the most important thing to know about tickling/being tickled?

It’s all about the bond you can make with each other through the tickling. Get to know their body, get comfy, and have fun

14. How does tickling affect your relationship with others (family, friends, lovers, companions, etc.)?

I mean it doesn’t really involve anyone other than community friends, or my SO and such. Some of my irl friends know about it but they’re chill, otherwise nothing really happens. Other than the fact that I h a t e being tickled by family/strangers and I feel gross and die inside

15. If you could create any kind of tickle invention, what would you create?

Uh a machine that teleports people from the community to you. Ok but for real, any machine with automatic tickling would probably be cool to use as a supplemental tool

16. If you had the choice: Would you choose to be ticklish or not ticklish at all? Why?

Tickling is a key part of me and my identity at this point, so I think I’d would keep my sensitivity! Maybe if I were younger, I would have changed that, but I’ve come to love that part of me.

17. What would be your most ideal tickling scenario?

Classified :)

18. Do you enjoy bondage/restraints/etc.? Why or why not? (And if you do prefer them: Which is your favorite way/position of being restrained or restraining someone else?)

Fun fact: I’ve never been in restraints/had someone in restraints before! Do I want both? Y e s because limiting that control is exhillirating to me and I absolutely need to try it

19. Do you enjoy tickle tools? Why or why not? (And if you do prefer them: Which is your favorite tickle tool AND on which ticklish area(s)?)

Hands will always beat any tool in my opinion. I guess makeup brushes and feathers are nice, but it’s not always effective. With fingers, well, I get to touch and be touched and that’s heaven and hell. 

Areas? Classified :)

20. What is your greatest hope involving tickling?

I guess that there’s just...more of it in my life. It’s been pretty bare bones and I’m constantly in the mood to toche

21. If you could give one message to the entire Tickle Community, what would it be?

Chill tf........

22. The BEST thing about the Tickle Community is…

the fact that absolutely everyone is touch starved and I’ve never related more to that in my life

23. What makes tickling so unique from other forms of touch?

It’s electric, wicked, and intense from the very start, from its lightest form to the heaviest petting. Really, tickling is about the surprise, and the cognitive dissonance from the comfort and tension of the touch. 

Touching can get to you with time. Kisses and soft worship can get to you with time. Pain can get to you with time. But tickling? It’s already there. It was over for you from the start. Good luck :)

24. If you could have the ability to tickle yourself to the point of laughter, would you?

I guess? Part of what makes tickling so special to me is the touch of someone else, but I think if it can mimic that briefly, sure why not

25. Do you prefer gang tickling or one-Ler-one-Lee tickling? Why? (And if gang tickling: How many Ler’s and Lee’s is “ideal?”)

I’ve never experienced or been a part of gang tickling, but honestly it sounds dope and a good experience overall. How many? Top secret classified :)))

26. For TICKLER’s: What is the most important message you want to get across to your Lee/Lee’s by tickling them?

I’ve got you, love. No need to run, even if every nerve in your body is telling you to do so. I’m here. Don’t worry, give all control over your body to me. Soon, you won’t really have a choice.

27. What makes tickling so addictive?

I get to toch, mmmmmm

28. What kind of tickles do you prefer giving/recieving? (Silly, intense, sexy, gentle, etc.) Why?

Gentle, soft tickles that seemingly never end :) because it’s... n i c e :))))

29. (Feel free to omit if uncomfortable answering.) What ticklish spots/tools/methods of tickling/etc. are OFF-LIMITS for you? Why?

Depends on the person! The closer I am with them, and depending on what’s established beforehand, the more I am comfortable with. Just get to know me, and then we can figure that out! Don’t worry I’m friendly and more than slightly awkward

30. What about tickling makes you the most embarrassed/flustered?

Uhh the fact that cute people are touching you and making you happy and giggly wow fuck off

31. Who do you think you could beat in a tickle fight from the Tickle Community?

Quite a few, but 100% the tiny baby @beegonethots you try to talk the talk but you’ve got nothing when you get teased even the slightest bit (: watch your neck

32. How would you react if you were suddenly approached by someone in the Tickle Community? AND/OR: How would you approach someone that you suddenly knew was in the Tickle Community?

Suddenly? I can’t help but imagine them doing:

Them: I KNOW EVERYTHING I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT YOU

Me: You do?

Them: *shows me my tumblr*

Me: Ahhhh, you do

BUT FOR REAL I would probably message them on tumblr first so I don’t accidentally stalk them, and try to talk things through.

33. How would you best tease someone else (self tickles, waving tickle tools, saying “tickle,” tickling them in public, wearing tickle-spot-revealing clothing, etc.) from the Tickle Community?

If I were physically with them I would obviously tickle them in public, but otherwise I try my best at using my words to create a story in their head that they can’t get out. Gotta make sure I give the right details of exactly what I want to do to them and how, step by step

34. Best song to tickle/be tickled to?

Uh I don’t have anything in mind, so let’s go with Under My Skin by Jukebox the Ghost

35. How do you feel when tickling/being tickled?

The happiest I could possibly be. But you didn’t hear that from me

Thanks for the ask bastard I’ll get you later <3

[tlbodine]

1970s: Killer Rednecks

Horror in the 1970s had an odd fascination with rural America. Hillbilly horror continues to be a popular genre, perhaps in part because they’re one of the safer “others” to fear in an increasingly liberal and accepting society (fair or not). 

America’s got an issue with social class, although we don’t always acknowledge it, and the roots dig deep into the country’s founding origins. Here’s a fun article on the topic as a primer: https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/book-party/wp/2016/06/23/a-cultural-and-political-history-of-white-trash-america/ (also remind me I need to buy this book because it looks really interesting). 

Anyway, 1970s America had some class anxieties. Fewer people were living and working on farms. There was a renewed interest in ecology and activism, maybe the first modern environmentalist movement, and those environmental concerns tangle with class concerns to bring us.....evil hillbillies. 

Deliverance (1972), directed by John Boorman, was the earliest example

Although not technically a horror movie (it’s most often classified as a thriller), Deliverance earned a place on the watch list because of the level of impact it’s had on modern pop culture. Deliverance is still a meme, perhaps because it still touches on anxieties people continue to have. 

It helps that this was a mainstream movie. Based on a novel by James Dickey (a poet laureate), the film was nominated for multiple awards and hailed by critics -- so a lot of people have seen or are familiar with the film who might never have heard of other similar movies. 

Anyway: The plot of Deliverance is pretty simple. Four men go on a white-water canoe trip down a river that will soon be dammed up, leading to the necessary destruction/relocation of a small Georgia town. On the trip, they run afoul of some locals who...for some reason...decide to take out some frustration by tying one to a tree and raping another. Burt Reynolds shows up just in time to save his second friend from being raped by sending an arrow through the hillbilly’s chest as the other panics and runs off. But now there’s a problem: one dead hillbilly and no way to explain it without revealing the humiliating thing that happened to his buddy. So the obvious solution is to.....bury the guy in a shallow grave and then go murder the other one! 

It’s slightly more complex than that, but not much. The film may well be the first on-screen male rape in cinema, and it’s still one of the best known. It’s interesting that it still gets SO much attention for being shocking when it’s...quite tastefully done compared to, say, the 40-minute-long gang rape in I Spit On Your Grave. But anyway. 

I think the film is trying to make some kind of ecological message -- early in the movie, the act of flooding the town and damming the river is referred to as “raping nature”, so this idea of retaliatory rape by an angry local makes some sense. But most of the film is just....action shots of canoeing, and Burt Reynolds’s chest hair, and several forms of toxic male repression. Our rape victim gets about one minute of film time in which to grieve and process and then he’s fine and the event is never spoken of again. Our heroic friend who kills the remaining redneck goes home to his wife and kids and is haunted by his necessary-but-terrible ordeal. 

I will say this, though: The movie has a sick-as-hell dueling banjos sequence. 

In 1974, Tobe Hooper released The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 

This movie is a classic and a pillar of horror history. It’s been remade numerous times, and Hooper himself made a sequel (although it’s more of a comedy). It’s also probably the first real slasher film, coming out just a few days before Black Christmas debuted in Canada. Taken together, the two films pretty much laid all of the groundwork for future slashers. 

Texas Chainsaw is about a group of friends who travel to an old family homestead and run afoul of the cannibalistic murderous neighbors. The cannibals -- among them the iconic mask-wearing Leatherface -- proceed to hack and slash their way through the group until one thoroughly traumatized girl escapes. 

The film begins with some scrolling text that sets the scene...and helped convince movie-goers that the movie was real (much like what would happen with The Blair Witch Project many years later). And, much like Blair Witch, the film was made mostly by traumatizing the inexperienced cast. A low-budget affair, the movie cut corners by just...making things real. Some of the blood in the movie is real animal blood (and, in the finger-cutting scene, real cut-finger blood). It was filmed on location in a farm house without air conditioning in 110-degree heat. They used a real hammer and a real chainsaw and honestly it’s kind of amazing that nobody died during the production of this film. 

That said, Hooper’s insane decisions do pay off in a way because the film looks magnificent even 40 years later. You can’t beat practical effects. 

The film is also....surprisingly restrained, for a movie titled “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and one which was banned in numerous places. The murder sequences themselves are generally pretty tame (although there’s a scene where someone gets flattened by a truck and it is brutal). Perhaps the more shocking part are the set pieces: the cannibals have their home decorated, Ed Gein-style, with human remains built into furniture, with a fashion sense both macabre and whimsical. 

Anyway. Texas Chainsaw is thin on plot, but why would you expect otherwise? It’s good stuff. 

[idio-cies]

AWAE comparisons, expectations and analysis pt.III

So, the first scene we have of Gilbert and Anne in AWAE, 0103, he saves her... so that already completely fucks up everything as the context is needed for that scene. All this does is show the audience that this is Anne's love interest because he saved her and she lives in a world where she wishes everything to be romantical (It’s also just a huge trope). The effect of school being the topic of their interaction "we should probably get to school, eh?" is prominent considering that it is home to their rivalry etc. I very much appreciate Gilbert in the series to ask if there were any dragons that need slaying. It shows his humour, the fantasy element but also his cockiness. So what I can't quite decipher from Gilbert following Anne to school and trying to get her to tell him her name is very vexing. The only conclusion I have come to in the respect of Anne is that she was scared; of him teasing her, of him following her until she was in the sanctuary of school or she was just generally shocked of his presence. The reason I say about the following to school is because he then comes in with her meaning it was where he was also headed to, or that she knew he wouldn't be leaving any time soon and might as well introduce herself.

The way Gilbert was asking for her name though shows immaturity though "What? Can't tell me your name?" etc

Anyway, the scene where she is rescued in the books, is their turning point.

I shall explain.

Chp 28: Gilbert obligingly rowed to the landing and Anne, disdaining assistance, sprang nimbly on shore.

‘I’m very much obliged to you,’ she said haughtily as she turned away. But Gilbert had also sprung from the boat and now laid a detaining hand on her arm.

‘Anne,’ he said hurriedly, ‘look here. Can’t we be good friends? I’m awfully sorry I made fun of your hair that time. I didn’t mean to vex you and I only meant it for a joke. Besides, it’s so long ago. I think your hair is awfully pretty now—honest I do. Let’s be friends.’ For a moment Anne hesitated. She had an odd, newly awakened consciousness under all her outraged dignity that the half-shy, half-eager expression in Gilbert’s hazel eyes was something that was very good to see. Her heart gave a quick, queer little beat. But the bitterness of her old grievance promptly stiffened up her wavering determination. That scene of two years before flashed back into her recollection as vividly as if it had taken place yesterday. Gilbert had called her ‘carrots’ and had brought about her disgrace before the whole school. Her resentment, which to other and older people might be as laughable as its cause, was in no whit allayed and softened by time seemingly. She hated Gilbert Blythe! She would never forgive him!

‘No,’ she said coldly, ‘I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe; and I don’t want to be!’

‘All right!’ Gilbert sprang into his skiff with an angry color in his cheeks. ‘I’ll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley. And I don’t care either!’ He pulled away with swift defiant strokes, and Anne went up the steep, ferny little path under the maples. She held her head very high, but she was conscious of an odd feeling of regret. She almost wished she had answered Gilbert differently. Of course, he had insulted her terribly, but still—!

Honestly, she is so relatable. Anyhow. It just goes to show how instantly she regretted it, but Gilbert got the message, and "stopped" pursuing her. He was still young too don't forget. This has and hasn't happened. It kinda did in 0209, but not really, because I'm not so sure about Gilbert's nature as he had other things on his mind, and also the context of Anne being jealous.

What gets me is that "half-shy half-eager expression in Gilbert's hazel eyes"- this is what he expresses in 0104.

The fact that their first interaction in the series is of their turning point in the books, already gives them a different perception of how they are going to interact. This is a typical trope for couples do be set up, especially ones that are archaic in terms of the man saving the woman. They technically start off on good terms, where she may be grateful of him/perhaps attracted to him already.

I can't believe we missed out on him winking at her though, that was their first interaction, and yes Anne believes he is Handsome- again why I think she may have just been in silence because she was shocked.

Chp 17: "'I think your Gilbert Blythe IS handsome,’ confided Anne to Diana, ‘but I think he’s very bold. It isn’t good manners to wink at a strange girl.'"

When Gilbert offers her the apple I assume it's the equivalent of the candied heart Gilbert attempts to give her that she is an utter savage over:

Once, when nobody was looking, Gilbert took from his desk a little pink candy heart with a gold motto on it, ‘You are sweet,’ and slipped it under the curve of Anne’s arm. Whereupon Anne arose, took the pink heart gingerly between the tips of her fingers, dropped it on the floor, ground it to powder beneath her heel, and resumed her position without deigning to bestow a glance on Gilbert.

It doesn't say how he tries to get her attention though, so I like how the series actually shows the attempts of Gilbert with the apple and paper etc because again, it's ambiguous, I know that earlier films and series have shown different attempts also.

However, the reason Anne doesn't respond in the series is that she wants to be liked by people and was literally told not to look or speak to Gilbert because Ruby likes him. This can explain why the phrase was "I'm not talking to you" instead of saying how rude and hateful he was, as I have mentioned before, this goes into how his character is presented also. I will get onto the Ruby sitch later.

You also get a sense of Gilbert's character by how he was welcomed, his humour, but also the way he holds himself. He is beloved it seems by the entire class (much like Anne was in the books and comes to be, all except Josie Pye and then Billy in the series also and his miscreants to an extent). He does have that joking nature like when they ask him about the Rocky mountains claiming they were "big" and "rocky" and then also when he teases his friends, instead of the girls. He is 99% still original Gilbert though. Later when he is admiring Anne's enthusiasm when she reads and he says to Charlie "She's good, invested" it does make her more accepting to the boys. Gilbert holds a lot of influence on the class, as seen by his interactions with Billy and the other boys in the class, this acceptance of who Anne is, is likely to prevent some bullying. It's just that Billy and Josie are horrible (and I hope they redeem them because they've set it up!) and people think to much of what other think of themselves, like any child growing up in school. This is why 0104 is so important for Anne, It's all well and good that Diana is her friend, but she also falls privy to the peer pressure of school life; the whole class do like Anne in all actuality, because she is different and kind etc. Literally it's only Josie in the books that just doesn't seem to grow to love Anne. Anne is seen as being this person that comes into your life and you can't help but love her. It's what I find interesting about the slate/carrots scene.

Anyway, as you see Prissy, Tillie and also Jane all look shocked, but also sorrowful.

Prissy is more astonished because of Mr Phillips, but also when Gilbert confesses it was his fault (also does this in the books etc) he looks around to the boys in some kind of astonishment almost as if to say "shut up" or “Why”.

The only one we are shown to enjoy the display is Josie. 

Though Ruby seems to be at odds because obviously Gilbert was trying to grab Anne's attention.

When Anne gives her name when they enter the school, we see the same sort of shot that is given to us in the last scene of S2

They only have switched places and the lighting is different. The camera is level, but the positioning of them shows distance, but that they are on common ground.

So when it comes to the scene where he calls her carrots its really interesting. Bearing in mind that Series Gilbert doesn't tease girls as Gilbert in the book etc does; he still has the want to gain the attention, but for Gilbert in the books it honestly sounded like he was restraining himself, but got too impatient and yanked her hair, but there is no explanation of him calling her carrots, it certainly wasn't on purpose because of his honest apology straight after they were let out of school.

‘I’m awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne,’ he whispered contritely. ‘Honest I am. Don’t be mad for keeps, now.'

For some reason it's always whispering.

See this is what I don't get about Gilbert in the series, he honestly just really wanted to see her face and to talk to her because he found her intriguing, but I can understand why Anne saw him as teasing her, especially after he responded with the "You just did" and smiles. I suppose to a degree his not hearing her when he tried to give her the apple could also come across as taunting, but that bit in of itself was him being kind so it just must have messed with Anne.

But if you watch the scene where he pulls Anne's hair and calls her carrots 1. you see how cautious Gilbert was, like he was approaching a frightened deer 2. you see how Anne was on the brink of snapping anyway because she was breathing heavily 3. you see how Gilbert was still immature as he looked at her face a couple times, then looked at her hair, something in his head though "yeah, that's a good idea" (you see a quick expression on his face where he gets impatient) totally yanked her hair, still whispered carrots but still trying to look at her face even as she brought up her slate and whacked him.

Really, all he wanted was to see her face, which is incredible, but maaaannnnn he's as impatient as her! What annoys me though, he never apologised... it bothers me.

But that concludes that scene. They couldn't skip the carrots scene, it's too iconic, but it still shows you how Gilbert is still immature, it's just he's more awkward, as per with the rest of the season. Gilbert and Anne really do go the distance with staring at each other instead.

But, it is all about miscommunication! Because feelingggsssssss

I suppose I should also talk about other scenes in between such as when she reads The Fisherman, which is very fitting for them as well, mainly on the part of Gilbert.

The basis is that this fisherman lives out at sea, is lonely in the dangerous life he leads. I don't think it was a coincidence with the cinematography we had in season 2 which expresses how this poem could have fared for Gilbert. Gilbert was looking to where his calling was, that either being his vocation or where he wanted to be, he was searching and to no avail really. This restlessness can be dangerous in the metaphorical sense of not finding love, and being content with one's self. There's a bit in the poem that says "with scarce a friend" this is turned around by him befriending Bash. Without Bash and Anne's letter, I doubt Gilbert would have ever come back to Avonlea. He would have succumbed to being a restless spirit. Even when he did come home he was searching still. Gilbert had to grow up fast after his father fell ill, and then died, and so did Anne in general as it seemed as soon as she could walk, she was sent to work.

There is a significance of the apple I feel. It was either that or just an aesthetic which it most likely was, but the woops- god, he must have felt like he was being so suave.

Anyways, there isn't really much more comparison I can do, except to say the significance it gives. Afterwards there is no mention of Gilbert teasing the girls. I honestly think the teasing was just him biding the time, and then when Anne came along he was like "OMG I've found my wife". Gilbert here also has that experience as that's why he tries to get her attention just as much as any other Gilbert, and trying to get a good look at her face. He needn't look any further. I will probably go into detail later with other stuff as that's where the comparison will come in.

1 / 2 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

[treatian]

The Dark One Chronicles:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 2:  An Assessment of the Sexes

Their tavern was just as sad as the rest of their pitiful little town. There was nothing special or unique about it. It was exactly the same as every other tavern he'd been in since he'd become this creature. Which was how he knew it would be the perfect place to meet a stranger who claimed the Dark One had need of him. The dark and dampness of the business at least gave him some bit of comfort as he strolled over to a private table farthest from the door and sat down. Vultures. All barmaids were vultures, and they were on him as though he'd only just died yesterday.

"Sir, what can I…"

He removed the cloak from his head, and instantly she choked on her words, eyes rounding at the sight of him.

"What…what can I get you?" she asked in a much softer tone.

"Ah…nothing for me, Dearies, but my company, if he arrives, will have some of your strongest ale!" he pronounced. Alcohol wasn't good for much, but a loose-lipped meeting was certainly better for him. Besides, he'd only be throwing away his money if he got something for himself. He'd noticed since losing Bae that alcohol had little effect on him in this form.

"Are…are you sure?" the barmaid asked, suddenly getting the courage to offer a small smile and tilt her hip in his direction. It reminded him of Ava, the woman who had once tried to seduce him so he'd make her his "queen". "Is there anything else I can help you with." It sounded like something Ava too. But he was quite sure that he didn't need what the wench was offering — filthy town.

"Quite."

She left with only a single glance thrown back at him over her shoulder. Women. He understood entirely why half of them shrank away from him in fear, but he was clueless as to why the other half eyeballed him like he was a roast turkey, and they were starving. He hadn't a single interest in what they were after. Not at the moment, at least. Not until he got back to Baelfire, then perhaps some of those old desires might be permitted to come to the surface again. Although, after a year of searching for his answer, he was positive that getting to Baelfire also meant surrendering his power; that meant gaining a limp. He couldn't be sure that women would continue to look at him this way when he was no longer the Dark One, weak and nearly as pitiful as this tavern.

Many people came and went as he sat there in that tavern contemplating the mind of the "fairer sex", but he knew the second the man he was looking for came in. Timidly he looked around, and when his eyes finally fell on him in the back, he noted the swallow that made his throat bob up and down. As he got closer, he smelled distinctly of fear, just like so many did when they came into contact with him for the first time and weren't prepared for the sight of him.

"It really is you," he stated with wide eyes as he sat down at the table. "The Dark One, in the flesh. Or…whatever that is."

He managed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes only by keeping them cast down at the table and avoiding Smee's gaze. He'd been looking for him so long, that was the best he'd come up with? He had a hard time believing this man had anything he could ever want when he approached him with stupidity like that.

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to meet me. You better hope I agree it's worth my time."

"I've heard you'd been looking for something. And, as luck would have it, I'm a man who trades some hard to find objects."

Perhaps he'd been wrong about the man. He'd spoken quickly just now, but it didn't have the same cadence that fear had. It had the tone of necessity. He'd spoken to move things along. And better yet, as the woman from the bar brought a stein of ale toward their table, William Smee got suddenly silent. A quick glance told him Smee was eyeing her with suspicion and unwilling to talk in front of her. Perhaps he'd underestimated him. It seemed the man knew how to hold his tongue around others. At last, someone with a brain. That was a lifesaving skill in his line of work.

"Like a bean?" he muttered, once the woman moved away. He'd whispered it really drawing his head closer to his own and cupping his hand around his mouth to block the sound from even potentially getting out into the crowd. "A magic bean that can transport you between worlds."

He had his attention before out of curiosity, but now he possessed it out of necessity. The Dark One was an experienced deal maker. He'd been doing it since long before even his own parents had been born and he knew that sometimes offers were false and even worse, sometimes they were traps. That he should be summoned to a strange woman's hut and told of this man's need to meet him, and that he had the one thing in the world he needed more than anything, was suspicious all on his own. The phrase "too good to be true," came to mind. He couldn't seem too interested.

"I've been told, they no longer exist in this land," he pointed out.

Smee leaned forward, his eyes wide. "Not in this land, no," he admitted. "But the ships that dock here often return from far off lands with treasures they don't always understand."

"And yet, you do?" he mocked. This man with a red floppy hat…he understood what they didn't? It was difficult to believe, and yet here he was. It was for Bae. Anything else and he would have left already. But if there was hope he could get him a bean that could take him the Baelfire, what choice did he have but to stay and listen?

"It's my job. As is knowing the rumors of who might pay the highest price for said treasures."

Rumors indeed…he'd been incredibly careful not to let many know what he'd been searching for. The fact that this stranger knew what he wanted most of all without any familiarity with him was disturbing. He'd have to find the source of these…rumors. If they were true, of course…

"And what rumors could they be?"

"That you were once a great coward, but that you became the Dark One to overcome that and protect the, uh, son who you lost, despite all-"

He had to summon his magic and use it to limit the air getting into his lungs to stop him from talking. A fool's brain buried beneath a wise talker. He should have known. William Smee must have had some kind of familiarity with his former village. That must be where the rumors he'd heard had come from because he could think of no where else he'd get information like that. He'd have to do something about that. And about…this.

"It's not nice to spread rumors!" he snapped loudly, so the entire bar could hear him, just in case a single person had heard him. Best to stick to business! "The bean – where is it?"

"I don't have it," he rasped out, with his own hand around his neck as if it could help him in some way. If he'd just lied to him, there was nothing that could help him. "But I can get it, I swear!"

He was begging. But he'd also said the magic words. And so with that, he relinquished his hold on Smee's throat and sat back, trying to look just as disinterested as he had when they'd first started. All the while, inside, he was nearly leaping for joy. He had a lead on a bean, an assurance they did exist! Forget the curse he'd been worried about finding; he was about to prove that Blue Bitch wrong and join his son!

"You haven't heard my price," Smee commented after the coughing fit he'd barely noticed had passed.

Price. What was that word to him anymore? He'd heard every other rumor about him, had he not heard the one about gold?

"I spin straw into gold. Price shouldn't be a problem."

"I don't want money," he insisted quickly. "I want eternal life."

He let out a loud, obnoxious laugh that he hoped passed along the message of just how ridiculous his request was. Smee knew what he wanted, he'd give him that, but he didn't want it enough. He wasn't desperate for it, and that made him no threat to his blade, only his comfort. There was no spell for eternal life, not one that wasn't a curse at least. There was a spell to keep an individual young, which could go on a lifetime, but it needed to be repeated and reset constantly. That would require keeping Smee in his life forever, and if he got the bean and he left, he wouldn't be able to fulfill the deal. But there was something else, something close to his request that a man like Smee might accept.

"Only the Dark One has life eternal. So, you want more, son. What I can do…what about youth? Spin the clock back till you're a little boy again?"

He could see his mind working behind his eyes. It was reassuring. If he was considering the bargain, then he'd been right. He wanted eternal life for the novelty of it, not out of necessity. He had nothing to fear of him.

"Close enough. Deal!" he agreed just a bit too eagerly. He wasn't desperate enough for eternal life, but he was betting that he would be desperate not to meet an untimely fate. A little motivation for getting that bean couldn't hurt.

"But remember – you fail to deliver, I spin the clock forward, and turn you into dust."

He understood. He could see it in his eyes, and in the way he pulled his hat on and rose from the table to get to work. "Thank you. Thank you!"

He was gone quickly. He liked that. His assessment of William Smee was that he wasn't exactly the brightest burning candle he'd ever met, but he seemed to be a savvy enough businessman and he had managed to get the butter blossoms for the old lady. Probably he was good at his trade and little else. But he knew better than to get his hopes up. After all he'd had more than a few leads on magic beans since Bae had gone away, and each and every one had failed. He knew better now than to count his chickens before they hatched, or in this case, count the beans before they were sitting in his hand.

"You sure you don't want anything?" the barmaid questioned, coming up to him but staying a safe distance away.

He'd been about to vanish, to simply leave her staring at his empty chair when he heard a voice that rang out in his ear and grabbed his attention. It was a familiar voice. Someone he recognized but couldn't place until-

He glanced over in the direction of the sound, and the glance became a shocked stare. Black clothes, earring, elaborate beard…he recognized that voice, and now he knew why. It was because the last he'd heard that voice he'd been quaking so hard in his boots he hadn't been able to move and watched helplessly as he stole away his wife. Killian Jones. The pirate who'd taken Milah.

He watched now as he walked into the bar without fear of conviction like so many pirates in this town did after they'd paid the lawmen. "Where's my beer?!" he questioned with a joyful smile on his face. A joyful smile…a joyful smile like the one he had stolen from Baelfire when he'd taken his mother. If he'd never taken Milah…

"You know, I suddenly find myself quite thirsty," he explained to the barmaid, who happily set one of her mugs of ale before him and marched off to take care of the new guests. Rage simmered beneath his skin and he allowed it. Let them drink. Let them gorge themselves on food and drink. His thirst was much more murderous. It would only be satisfied by blood. For Baelfire.

For Milah.

[horansqueen]

BabyGirl 3.0

NOTES:

♥ this is based on a concept i received a few weeks ago and ppl asked that i made a story with it. ♥ i planned 3-4 long parts but i think it’ll be 8-10 short parts ♥ 3.2k. fluff. ♥ there may be smut but i doubt it and IF it happens it wont be as explicit as my other smut works. ♥ i didn’t proofread and if you read my stuff you know i never do because im a lazy ass. ♥ thank you so so much for all the notes and feedback for the previous chapters! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!! i hope you enjoy this chapter! ♥ if you have any questions please dont hesitate. ♥ read part 1 HERE and part 2 HERE

                                  3.0  ♥ APOLOGY & CULPABILITY ♥

HIM

I was pissed. Pissed at myself for not even noticing that Louis was bringing me into a trap. I like to think i'm good to guess people and their character, but through the years, I realized I was not as competent as I thought. Still, being played and betrayed by my very best friend was humiliating and incredily hurtful. I glanced at him and noticed guilt written all over his face, but it wasn't enough to take the feeling of betrayal running inside me.

"Wow, hey, it's been a while."

She glanced at Louis too and I breathed in before nodding.

"Yea, 4 years," I just pointed out, slipping my hands in my pockets, trying to find a way to escape this incredibly awkward and almost intolerable situation.

Could I pretend to get a call? Or a text message? Then run outside and call a cab? Was there any way for me to just run to the airport and fly as far away from here as I could? Even on the other side or the world I knew I couldn't feel better. It was too late. I had seen her again and I couldn't take my eyes off of hers.

She got older. I could see her hair were dyed but it was still pretty much the same shade of brown it always was, and I wondered why she'd do such a thing for so little change. Her dress was plain but pretty and she gained a little weight. For some reason, she seemed to glow in a way I couldn't explain.

"5." she corrected me. "It's been 5 years."

I was surprised when her eyes left mine to glance behind me but I kept looking at her. Perhaps, she still had that effect on me, but i didn't have the same effect on her. We used to be a bit obsessed with each other, and we could stare at each other for longer than most people would find acceptable.

My heart felt heavy, like stuck in a vice and someone was twisting it slowly, as if to make the pain less bearable and my death longer to come. I wanted to run away, yet my legs wouldn't move, i was stuck here indefinitely, forced to look into the eyes of the only girl i loved without being able to touch her.

"That long..." I nodded, as if I didn't know the exact date of the last time i saw her.

She nodded too and sent me a shy smile as I twisted the fabric of the inside of my pockets hard enough to feel my muscles tense.

"Louis... didn't tell me..."

She nodded quicker this time and glanced behind me again, where I only guessed Louis had gone, leaving both of us in a situation we didn't want to be in.

"Yea, no, he didn't tell me either." she chuckled, clearly uncomfortable. "Surprise, I guess."

We remained silent for a while and I started swaying gently on my toes. She finally closed her eyes and sighed, running her fingers in her long hair and somehow, it made my heart twitch.

"Look, Niall, I know it's late for this, but i'm so sorry."

I frowned but she kept talking.

"That fight was all on me, it was ridiculous, I shouldn't have insisted." she explained. "I'm so sorry for how things ended, Niall, I-I didn't want this."

Her apology hurt my heart and without thinking, I moved closer and grabbed her arms. The contact of my skin against hers was life changing, like electricity ran all over my body... like I was high on a drug I had never tried before. I knew she felt it too and she held her breath. My face was so close to hers I had to swallow and my lips parted but it took me a few seconds to talk.

"No, you really don't have to apologize, it was my fault, not yours." I whispered. "All mine."

From up close, I could smell her. She still used the same perfume as she always did, and it made memories invade my head. I remember the first time we met and how cold it was outside... and how bad I had wanted to kiss her. It made me realized I wanted it just as bad now, maybe more.

It felt wrong to be in her personal space and let go of her, feelings my palms burn again even if I wasn't touching her anymore. I took a step back and cleared my throat, forcing myself to look down.

"I'm surprised you're wearing a dress." I finally pointed out, trying to change the mood. "You look great, really."

She sent me an other smile, one that seemed slightly more sincere this time.

"Thank you, but you know me. If I could, i'd be here in my sweatpants." she pointed out, making me smile more. "The dress wasn't my idea."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, relieved that we seemed to have a light conversation after being a bit emotional.

"Who's idea was it, then?"

She didn't have time to answer, I saw a tiny little girl run between us and wrap her arms around her thighs. I heard her laugh and looked up at her, but she was only looking at the kid.

"Mommy! Look!"

With an enthusiast face, the kid moved one of her arms up to show a doll who was already missing a shoe. I had a hard time to mend the pieces of what exactly was happening here but I watched her crouch down to discuss with the little girl. They hugged and she ran back to where she came from as my heart started beating harder in my chest. She had a kid and she was probably taken. I always suspected she had found someone else very quickly after we were over, but knowing it for sure hurt more than I thought it would. It was ridiculous, it's not like what we once had could ever come back. There was so much pain still left, so many things untold and unknown... this small encounter would only make things worse and I was scared that after today, even If i never saw her again, I would be even more scarred than I already was.

"That's your daughter?"

She nodded and her lips curled into a fond smile I had never seen on her. I held my breath a few seconds, trying to calm the thumps of my heart against my chest without much success. I've always enjoyed seeing her happy and it made me realize how bad I missed her laugh. Not a chuckle, or a giggle. A real laugh, the kind that echos on the wall and always seemed to reach my heart.

"So, you're married." I just pointed out, clearing my throat." How old is she?"

She raised her nose up in a grimace and chuckled, shaking her head from left to right. The sight made me smile despite myself and I stuck my hands in my pockets again, trying to restrain the need I suddenly had to be closer to her once more.

"No, I'm a single mom." she explained before her smile fell. "She's... she's four years and a half."

I couldn't explain how good it felt to hear she wasn't married, and I sort of felt bad for liking it. That's why it took me a while for the other fact to actually sink in. My lips fell and my eyes got bigger. Something stirred inside me, making me suddenly nauseous and I had to swallow the lump in my throat.

"She's four years and a half..." I repeated.

Even though it was clearly not a question, I watched her as she nodded slowly, suddenly extremely serious.

"She's gonna turn five in a few months."

I pressed my hand on my mouth and held my breath, bending down slowly as i felt myself tear up. This couldn't be real. This was not happening. I had a daughter and I wasn't even aware of it, and all that seemed to flash in my mind was the fact that I didn't see her when she was born or when she walked for the first time. I wasn't there when she said her first word, and that for her, I was a total stranger. Did she even know she has a dad? A dad that would have loved her and cared for her if only he had known she existed?

"You..."

I couldn't talk, I was incredibly hurt and so many thoughts were running in my mind that I wasn't sure I could handle any at the moment.

"I am so so sorry, Niall."

I didn't want to hear her apologies, and I didn't want to hear her excuses. I just wanted to lock myself somewhere to get my thoughts and mind back into place. My vision became blurry after a few seconds and that's exactly when my daughter came back. Just thinking about those two simple words made my heart threaten to jump out of my chest.

"Mommy! Freddie broke my doll!"

It hit me so hard that it felt like someone was twisting a knife in my already open wound.

"Louis knew..."

Her head raised up at my words and her eyes opened wide as she was trying to fix the doll in her hands. Her expression betrayed her and I felt like someone had stabbed me in the stomach for a second time in the past 6 minutes.

Everything seemed to make sense suddenly. The reason why Louis would never talk about her or bring her up was obvious now. He couldn't or he would always risk to let out her secret. Lying to me was also not something he enjoyed and I guess he thought omitting something was not as bad as lying. But it was.

I closed my eyes and breathed in, trying to stop or at least calm the anger and hurt boiling inside me, but I couldn't help the feeling of loneliness flooding my body and mind. I felt sick and alone, and somehow, it felt like my ex girlfriend and my best friend had conspired in my back for the past five years.

Nothing could ever change that. Nothing could make that right. Nothing except maybe the love I already felt for a daughter I didn't even know.

HER

I knew that someday, i'd have to explain to my daughter what happened with her father, but i never thought it would happen so soon. I was slightly mad at Louis for literally pushing me into this meeting and forcing me to come face to face with Niall, but also with my own lies. I didn't understand why he did it. He could have done it years ago, why now?

I tried to push Louis out of my thoughts to focus on Niall, clearly as uncomfortable as I was, standing in front of me. I didn't remember the last time I felt so nervous and speechless, but having him so close after so long brought back memories and feelings I had tried to bury and ignore for years, and I wasn't sure I actually liked it.

He looked good, even better than in my memories, and even if I had tried to avoid him, his career and his music in the last years, looking at him after all this time still felt like home. Maybe the fact that I had a little child constantly reminding me of him helped keep the flame alive but it didn't matter. Niall was here and close, and the love I knew I had for him, even if i wouldn't admit before that it wasn't dead, was now burning my whole body and heart, threatening to leave only ashes. I'd be ready to give him my heart again even if the outcome would probably be as worse as the first time.

I felt the need to apologize for my behavior, but whenever I pronounced his name, my heart jumped in my chest. I felt like I hadn't heard it or said it outloud in so long it almost hurt to do it, but at the same time, it came so naturally and left a sweet after taste on my tongue.

A bunch of memories of when I would whimper his name rushed to my brain and made my heart jump. I could swear my cheeks turned a soft shade of red and I could try to blame it on the wine, but the thoughts made my whole body throb and my inside twist.

I always thought I had made the right choice to leave and let him live his life the way he deserved to. However, when he bent over slightly and seemed on the verge of tears, I felt incredibly guilty and bad for hiding it for so long. I could see the dimmed lights of the room make his eyes glisten and It really made me want to take him in my arms. I knew it wouldn't be a good idea so I just gave her doll back to my daughter and remained motionless, waiting for Niall to have an other reaction. Any would be good. He could even yell at me for what I had done, I wouldn't blame him. Instead. He shook his head and turned around to watch my daughter run back to the tree and he stared at her as she started playing with Freddie again.

"Louis has always known." he whispered, making me swallow an other lump of guilt with difficulty, before turning back to me. "He knew and he never told me."

"I made him promise not to tell you." I explained in a low tone, scared that my voice would crack. "I forced him. It's my fault."

It hit me that at some point, I was an important person in his life, and Louis was too. Niall had just realized that two of the persons he cared the most about had betrayed him, keeping a big and heavy secret from him, and I could understand it was hard to accept. I didn't even dare to hope he would ever forgive me.

I moved closer, placing my hand softly on his arm but he moved away and shook his head, rubbing his hand on his face for a while. He let out a few curse words and turned around, gripping his own hair and pulling on it. I shouldn't, but I felt endeared by the way he reacted, or perhaps it was simply from seeing some of his habits I was so used to see, yet had missed more than I thought.

"What's her name?" he finally asked after a few minutes, turning to me and diving his gaze into mine for a few seconds.

He looked sad and hurt and I did everything I could not to cry in front of him. For some reason, I felt like I didn't have the right to. He looked down and I swallowed again.

"Chelsea."

His head moved up roughly and he frowned. I knew he had a question burning his lips but he didn't ask. He just stared at me some more and breathed in, biting the inside of his cheek. I had never wished I could read his mind more than I did at that exact moment.

"Does she know about me?"

"She knows of you, but she doesn't know who you are."

Once again, he turned around on his heels slowly and moved back to face me, his hand holding the back of his neck. He stared at me and I couldn't hold all the tears anymore. I blinked and let a few fall down my cheeks without daring to wipe them off.

"When did you plan to tell me about her? When she'd insist more? When she'd be 18? Never?"

I didn't want to answer, and he guessed the truth because of my silence.

"Alright, never then." he said shaking his head.

I could feel he was getting angrier by the minute, but all I could focus on was the pain I heard in his voice every time his mouth would open. I would give anything to reassure him, but I knew that no matter what I did or said, it wouldn't make things better.

"I'm sorry, Niall." I whispered, making his face twist.

"Stop saying that." he almost begged before sighing extremely loud and leaving.

I watched him until he passed the door to go back to the cold weather without his coat and I shivered. I stared at the door for a few seconds until I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I didn't have to look, I knew it was Louis, and at this point, I was way past being mad at him for setting this up. Plus, I knew he'd have it tough with Niall, he didn't need me to make things even worse.

"Why did you do that, Lou?"

My voice was weak and I felt numb as his hand slipped on my arm gently. I swallowed and closed my eyes again. I couldn't explain to Niall why I kept him away. Back then, it seemed so obvious and legitimate but now, the aspects and reality I didn't want to see five years ago were right in front of me, and didn't seem to make any sense anymore.

"Because both of you were miserable. Because I felt like he deserved to know Chelsea. Because I felt like an impostor and a bad person for knowing his daughter and spending time with her when he didn't even know she existed." he explained low and slowly. "Because deep down, I'm sure you wanted him to know."

I remained silent and avoided his eyes again. All I could do was stare at the door in hope to see Niall walk back inside. Did I want Niall to know?

"It was not my place, or my choice to make, and I'm sorry." he added. "It was none of my business and I normally don't do that. I was wrong. But I can't say I regret it."

He was right, I knew he was, but admitting that was admitting I had failed. It was admitting that I was wrong and that I deprived Niall from so many memories and time with his daughter. I brought my hand to my mouth and did my best not to start sobbing.

"I'm not mad at you, Louis." I whispered, scared that i would start crying again if i talked louder. "I just hope he can forgive me one day."

"I hope he can forgive me too."

We remained silent for a while and Louis left for about a minute, bringing me back a full glass of wine that I swallowed a bit too quickly. It felt like we waited forever but I think my heart stopped completely when the door opened again. I held my breath, feeling my heart jump once against at Niall sight, and waited until he was back in front of me, He waited until Louis had left, without even sending him a glance.

His face was impassive and I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. His simple presence made my heartbeats accelerate and if you mixed that with the guilt I felt, it was even worse. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate or pass out.

"I want to see her. I want to spend time with her. I want her to know who I am." he just let out. "And you don't have the right to refuse. Not after what you did to me."

I waited a few seconds after he was done talking and nodded gently, still staring at him.

"Of course you can see her and tell her who you are, Niall." I expressed, feeling on the verge of tears again. "I'm never gonna stop you from seeing her. You're her father, and you'll always be."

[angel-scythe]

Take the hand (Crackship)

Hi everybody!!

I’m offering you my part of the day 01 of the DBH ship month. I chose crackship so I could use one of my ship and headcanon I don’t work a lot with. I’m sorry i’m a bit late but I had lot to do. Also, I won’t probably not apply for every day.

Also, I wanted to do  a GavinxSimon but let’s say you could see it if you want to and not see it if you don’t want to?

I’m just so happy to have been able to finally write my two babies in the same fic. I definetely should do this more often!

Anyway, I let you enjoy the whole thing.

Just know that Phileas is the robot that give Jericho’s location to Markus in the Junkyard!

Summary: When Connor needs the location of Jericho, he uses Simon but never turn him off, leaving Simon with his past, his memories and a lot of doubts...

If you want to read my fanfiction on AO3 push this door => |  °| <= or just keep reading?

HAVE FUN!!

“Lucy will help you.”

“Help me…”

Everything was spinning in Simon’s head. Of course, he could always lay on Lucy’s back but he didn’t like it. As much as Phileas, standing in front of him with skin showing off. Sometimes, Thirium was leaking from his blue plastic shell and he just… swallowed it because what could he do except that?

“Yes. She’s the most reliable person I know. Beside you…”

“And you?”

Simon had a strong trust in Phileas. He was the one who led him here. Yes, it was a sad place, an abandoned ship who had difficulties to stay on the ocean but that became their Nest… Phileas had found this place, this unexpected providence and they offered their hand to every Deviant.

And now….

He didn’t get. Phileas was saying words but they had no meaning for him.

“I won’t stay there, Simon. It’s over. I don’t want to stay there, in fact…”

“I’ll come with you!” Simon said, passing an arm around his shoulders with a smile.

Sad and tired smile.

“No. I don’t want you to come with me. You stay here and you take care of Jericho,” Phileas ordered.

“What? I want to stay with y…”

“I don’t want to. Stay here. Take care of Jericho.”

Simon was frozen as the old Android was moving back and turned toward the rusty constructions of the board.

“But…” he managed to say. “When will you come back?”

“I don’t know. One day, maybe…”

“Maybe? Phileas… Phileas! Wait! Don’t leave me!”

  When Simon opened his eyes, he couldn’t see. Everything was black and he could hear movement around him but he couldn’t get what was happening. He couldn’t have the slightest access to what was going on and the fear was hugging him like a mortal friend.

“Everything’s alright, don’t worry.”

Markus?

Markus… It was Markus’ voice. The guy who came out of nowhere and take away from him the burden of Jericho. He valuated him so much. He did with Jericho everything he couldn’t even if he wanted it. He had no words enough to thank that guy that helped them, tried to save him when he had been shot in the Stratford Tower and who spared his life.

Well…

What he did wasn’t really useful, to be honest.

“Why did you leave me?”

The words came out from his lips stained by Thirium without he even understood this. Maybe it was because of the memory flooding his data? He could remember how he tried to kill himself to protect Jericho, the connection with a strong Android… That was messing up his data. Error messages appeared sometimes and he felt as if he wasn’t alive anymore.

“I had no choice, they’ have to kill us all!”

Everything was still messy.

No… No, he asked for Markus to leave. It was okay because North and Josh, Jericho, mattered more than his life.

Those words had no effect on him…

And at the same time…

“I come to take you home. Just…”

Simon wanted to see, to chase the memories.

“Give me the location of Jericho, we’ve got to leave now…”

Coming back to Jericho? The Jericho he promised to take care of? Take back to his family? The only people that seemed to care a bit about him?

Yes… he would be better in Jericho where he could repair his body and try to fix his memories.

The data errors were flooding him. He even didn’t realize that Markus should know the location when he pushed out his skin to connect with him. It was only when the connection hit him hard that he realized… it was the cop. The cop who pushed him to kill himself.

Burst of memories and error message mixed and shook his whole system.

The robot was strong. So strong. The energy he used to connect to him was on his body and animated his limbs. He reached out to him, to this guy who clearly wasn’t Markus but was maybe his only hope left?

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me again!” he begged.

He felt fingers around his Thirium pump and a wave of new panic overwhelmed him.

“Please!”

“Move out!”

Simon heard the new voice. Human voice?

“Don’t do it, Gavin. I know how to…”

“Shut up. I’ve been dreaming of this since the first second I saw you.”

“I know how to stop the Deviant,” the robot-cop said.

“You’re off the case! And now… It’s gonna be definitive.”

And then… a shoot echoed in the place. Panic swirled even more in his data. Especially because the body under him had fallen out of his reach.

“Don’t leave me, please!” he said without being able to restrain himself.

Neither the tears that melt with the Thirium in his damaged eyes.

He heard pace coming to him. Breathing. He felt fingers on him.

“No please… Please…”

“Who are you?”

It was the Human…

“S… Simon,” he said.

What could he say except that? Was he waiting from him? He wanted to know who he was before becoming a Deviant? Wanting to know he was the leader of Jericho before someone else more skilled came to him? Wanting to know… just the fact he was a Deviant?

“I’m… I’m a PL600…”

“I can see that. What are you doing there?”

He was a Deviant. An important clue to a case he didn’t even know. Why they couldn’t just be free without Humans trying to kill that?

“I…”

Simon couldn’t reply.

“I see.”

“Don’t turn me off, please…”

“What did you do? You’re what? A Deviant or worst?”

“Wo… worst?”

“Yeah, you’re one of those activists? Jericho’s crew?”

Simon couldn’t lie but his data were swirling. Should he lie after all? Should he tell the truth and let the guy, Gavin?, kill him? Why not…

The only thing he didn’t want was to be left again.

But dying?

Dying sounded okay…

“I’m one of them.”

“Okay. Run a diagnostic.”

Simon was lost. Damn lost… But he did it anyway. He ran the diagnostic and could feel the bullet hole, knew from where the Thirium leaked now he was activated again. One and two pieces that didn’t function anymore… And his eyes, of course.

He said it to the guy, wondering what kind of game he was playing right now. He knew Humans can be mean, really mean… but this…

He felt arms around him and didn’t try to flee because he had no reasons to do it. And he hadn’t really been touched like that since a long time. Markus had touched him but the way he dragged him away wasn’t… like that. There was something really soft and strong in the way this guy did it and he soon felt something under his behind. He moved his hands and clenched his fingers around the side of the things. A kind of tilted table?

“Turn off your sensor captors. Be sure to do it because if you don’t, you’ll pass a bad moment.”

“Why?”

“I’ll replace your destroyed pieces. There is a destroyed model here, the same as you.”

“There is another PL600?”

“Yes. Old case. But he’s totally destroyed, as I said. It won’t be possible to fix him. Not today, not in this situation.”

“Wh… what situation?”

“That robot, Markus, he led a revolution, powerful… The population started to freak out and now Androids are destroyed. To protect humanity.”

All his sensors down, the PL600 had some difficulties to know what he was doing. He could barely hear him as they were talking.

“You’re sure you’re one of the JeriCrew?”

“Yes… But I have been left after the Stratford tower incident. How many times passed?”

“Not much. If you want your people to be free, everything will be played now. Connor will have to choose his side and if he’s smart enough, which I don’t doubt, Androids will win.”

“You want Androids to win?”

“Hm… Don’t move, I have to put your eyes on. It’ll ask for a moment. I could also repair the rest first if you’ll be afraid to see me doing that?”

“Why… Why are you doing this?” Simon asked.

“Why not? I do what I want to do. So, I start with what?”

“Eyes, please.”

He wanted to see this man because he was so strange. He wanted the revolution? When he was a Human? That was so strange…

He thought the man will kill him and he was repairing him.

Everything was beyond his comprehension. He thought Markus was the savior, the one he could lay on after Phileas but in the end, it wasn’t the case. He had shown some fear and, in a way, he could understand it and at the same time… he had left him in the Stratford Tower because they couldn’t deal to save him. Because Markus couldn’t find the right solution in such a short time.

He could forgive.

He could have stayed but he had been found and everything had crumbled down.

He had left. Again.

And there, a human, who didn’t need to fight there, to care for him… was doing much more since Phileas.

Phileas who left him, without reason. Why? Months later, he was still lost, had still much difficulty to get attached, knowing he will be left behind. For the greater good, it was okay, though. Even North, his best friend, wanted him to be left there.

For Jericho.

All he wanted, in the end, was some replies…

But he couldn’t have those. It was something he had to accept… In the same way, he had to accept it when the horror came in his life for the first time. For weeks, even months, he waited for Phileas to come back but he never did. Never ever…

One day, he just realized that he will never see him again. He got use to the idea. Use to the sadness filling him and with the late events, he got use to a lot of  other things…

“Okay. You can turn off your eyes sensors.”

Simon complied.

When he was able to see, his data had a lot of difficulties to understand what was going on. He already saw this face. Not exactly this face but near. And it was written in his data. Everywhere… Something as strong as the need for rA9. The face of the one who created him many years ago.

“Mister Kamski?”

“That’s my brother,” he replied with a smile.

Bright, puffing his cheeks.

“You are… Elijah Kamski’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“Is this… why you want something else for Androids?”

“I want or he wants? That’s your question, right?”

Simon bit his lower lips and watched as the man started to replace his piece, to repair as much as he could. If he had any doubt, now he was fully sure the cop was related to Elijah Kamski because he was really skilled with his hands for repairing.

And then, he felt bad because those kinds of thoughts were bad… He shouldn’t think about that! That wasn’t because he was Elijah Kamski’s brother that he was able to work with Android!

And he felt even worse to have thought about that because the guy was really kind to him. One of the kindest lately since…

The memories came back to him. Since he tried to kill him, shooting through his data and eyes processor, and under his chin, the past was coming back again and again. He wanted to ask the cop, Gavin, right?, to erase all of that. This was a hurtful part of him and he didn’t want to keep it there… He wanted to drown it again under a lot of other things. Anything, he would take it.

“Do you have…”

A ring echoed in the room.

“Wait,” Gavin said. He picked up his phone. “Yay?”

He frowned and seemed to bite the inside of his cheek. Simon could sense that something was wrong. He was designed for this purpose. His whole existence was turned toward others.

There, he just wanted to throw his arms around his shoulders and ease away the feelings that passed over his face.

“Are you sure?” He rose his eyes, looking at the ceiling with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” New sigh. “Yeah… I’ll come.” If he’d rose his eyes even more in the ceiling, they will become blank but he did anyway. With a powerful sigh. “Yeaaaaaah. I know. Phck ya.”

And he hung off his phone.

“Bad news?” Simon asked with a tiny voice.

“Yay. Didn’t planned Dick Perkins to be such a dick. Jericho had been attacked.”

“Ho… How?”

“Connor had a clue from you when I killed him, from CyberLife in a new body, he went to Jericho. Dick had been warned from CyberLife’s headmaster and he followed him,” Gavin explained as he fixed a piece.

Then, he put his hands on the end of Simon’s shirt.

“Mind if I check your cable?”

“No… But, Jericho? What happened?”

Simon only looked Gavin’s face as the man pushed up his shirt and opened the part of his belly to arrange the cables.

And then, he realized that Connor’s body was still there next to them. Knowing that this corpse was just uploaded in another body was so strange…

“Jericho is a shipwreck in the river now.”

“No…”

“Your people are fine,” Gavin said. “Stop moving or  I’ll rip your cable off.”

Simon couldn’t feel it but it was right: the man had still his hands in his guts…

“No… No. I had to take care of Jericho! I had to…”

Gavin looked up to him with a frowning.

“Why? Who says that to you?”

“What?”

Simon looked down and their eyes met…

“Who says to you you had to take care of Jericho?”

“Why do you think…”

“I know, that’s all.”

Simon gulped. In a way, he felt as if he could clench on him but at the same time, he was even more afraid because he felt… He couldn’t explain that. If he wasn’t a Deviant yet, such an amount of feeling would have made him mad and push him to break the wall.

Sure it would!

“So? Because if it’s an asshole, I won’t bring you back there!”

When Gavin smiled at him before looking back on the cable, Simon’s eyes widened  and he lost control.

Thirium exploded in his circuits and some splattered on Gavin’s face who drummed on the table the Android was sat in with a sigh.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Simon closed his eyes. “And I don’t want to come back to Jericho.”

“So… you want it floating but you don’t wanna come back? Either I should congratulate you or I should be really worrying?”

“Worry? Why?”

Why worry for him… The only people that used to care, it was Phileas but… Now that the memories were coming back again and again he wondered if the man had even cared for him or not at some point in his life…

He would have come back if he cared for him.

“Well, you don’t wanna come back there. Either somebody is frightening you there or something even worst.”

“But… why would you even care?”

“I’ve my hands in ya and ya dirtied my face, I think we’re close enough for that.”

He winked.

Well…

Simon couldn’t help but laugh when he saw him winking that way.

And then, he lost it, looking at the man who seemed so rough and full of… he didn’t know what. But there was something, sure it was. Maybe the way he cared for him? The way he had asked if this was because of someone? Like he knew.

He certainly knew in his own way…

“Sorry, I moved,” he said with a new laugh.

“I guess I’ll just end up with more blue blood in my face,” Gavin grinned.

“Sorry!” Once again, Simon lost his smile. “I can’t come back to Jericho because of him… “ He glanced at Connor’s corpse. “He took the information from me. I betrayed Jericho. They’re all suffering because of me…”

“I see… I think Connor could have taken the information from anybody. He would have found anyway. It’s not because of you.”

“I can’t… I’m so sorry but… But I just can’t. I know that my friends had been endangered because of me. I know that… I betrayed them and…”

Gavin looked up to him, his hands full of blue.

“And?”

“And… The one I promised to take care of Jericho.”

“You loved him.”

Simon didn’t want to admit it. Suddenly, it was ridicule. And telling a Human he, an Android, had been in love? That seemed even more stupid. How could he believe him? Even being Elijah Kamski’s brother.

“It’s okay, ya know? I got weak for an asshole too. Dick Perkins. The worst mistake of my damn life. The guy is an asshole and he still proofs it.”

He didn’t want to remember how he asked him, begged him to just don’t take the case or take it but work on his side. Of course, Richard Perkins took his begging but still followed the case, fooling him.

“He created Jericho. For long, it was our Heaven but after, we helped others. And one day… he left. Without a word. I never saw him again.”

“Then he just doesn’t deserve you. Easy to say, I know, but don’t think about the jackass. You’re better without him. And you had been tricked by Connor.”

Gavin put out his hands from Simon’s belly and close the plastic part.

“You should go back to your people. Your friends.”

“And if they hate me because…”

“Gosh. You’ll tell me they never made a mistake? If you wanna, lie. Say that the plastic pet got you by force? You don’t have to tell you gave the information because… whatever your reason. You don’t even have to say it’s your fault.”

Gavin got up, passing his hands on his jeans to dry them. As much as he could.

“But I know it… I just… I can’t.”

“Don’t you think they’ll want to see you again. They’re your friends, right?”

North was his best friends and Josh a really dear friend but did they really wanted to see him coming back? North could be really savage and she didn’t show any need to have him saved on Stratford Tower. He realized  how much he could not matter… He had promised to go back to Jericho and to take care of it but no, it was laying on the ground of the river.

“You… with your asshole… what did you have planned to do?”

“Ugh… nothing. Just break his nuts if he comes to see me. Can’t wait to see him,” Gavin smiled.

Simon almost admired him because him, if Phileas come back to him, he just could yield to him. He perfectly knew that…

“Should I have to go back to Jericho or whatever it is now? Really? Because… maybe, you need a PL600? Any householder? I can do really good plates…”

“I don’t eat. Barely throw minute soup,” he replied.

“I can tidy up your house?” Simon offered.

“I don’t live in my own house.”

“I… I’m doing nice hug?”

Gavin tilted a bit his head with a smile.

“Let me try it,” he said, opening his arms.

The man had a tiny smile on his lips and Simon felt relieved. He came down from the table and could walk without any problem. He reached Gavin and hugged him. The cop replied to this.

“If ya wanna, you can stay at home but you’ll get bored pretty much quickly.”

“I’m okay with this.”

After being thrown away, mistreated, having someone accepting him, even through spite, it was a good start for him.

And he liked his hugs. They remembered him Phileas’ one but… in a good way. Away from a role he never wanted, he could be happy.

Maybe?

At least…