#beast boy: no one’s gotten it right? but there’s only three of them

[christaspirit]

“Are you ready for the final challenge?” The teen at the podium asked, a grin across his face. When they had arrived several hours ago after attempting to summon the ghost king, he had introduced himself as Danny.

The teen titans and the Justice league were the only ones left.

The two other groups, the cultists, were sent to a random dimension (that was a problem for another day).

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Nightwing said, glancing back at his team.

Batman nodded.

The kid grinned, and pressed a button under his podium. The floor split, and three people (ghosts) were raised up on a platform.

Ghost number one was built like a tank. He had green skin (like many ghosts), red eyes, and fiery white hair. He wore a black and white suit, with a cloak, and a white fancy D/P on his chest.

Ghost number two appeared to be a knight, surrounded by purple fire. There was a skull emblem at his hips, and green eyes barely visible under the helmet.

Ghost number three had no mouth, big red pensé eyes, a tall black derby hat with a red sash, a long black trench coat, with a red sash at the waist. A white collared shirt was visible underneath, with a red tie.

Danny grinned.

“Who is the ghost king?” Danny asked. “And I should warn you, no one has ever gotten this one right.”

The teen titans and the Justice league both froze, and looked over the three ghosts.

“If no one’s ever gotten it right, maybe it’s the ghost in a trench coat,” Nightwing said.

“Or he said that to throw us off,” Starfire said.

Meanwhile on the other side, the Justice League was debating it as well.

“The third ghost doesn’t look as powerful,” Wonder Woman said. “Constantine, didn’t you say the the title of Ghost King-”

“Comes from beating the former Ghost King in single combat, yes,” Constantine said.

“But then which of the other two is it then?” Superman asked.

Back on the other side, Raven spotted Beast Boy frowning as he looked over the contestants, than up at Danny.

“What’s wrong?” Raven asked.

“What the kid said doesn’t sit right…” Beast Boy said. “He said no one’s ever won before, but unless they’re changing up the ghosts every round, surely all three have been guessed, right?”

Raven frowns. That was a fair point.

Beast Boy stared again at Danny. Why was a completely normal, human kid acting as judge. He’s said something about giving the ghost king gear, but why work this job?

Then it clicked.

Beast Boy took a step forward to the microphone.

“The Ghost King isn’t any of the three ghosts, it’s you,” Beast Boy said to Danny.

Everyone stared at him in horror.

“Beast Boy, what have you done?” Cyborg asked.

“He’s doomed us all,” Constantine said.

Danny just stared at Beast Boy, a sly smile stretching across his face, and he stood up.

White rings formed around Danny’s waist, and then separated, one going up, one going down. T-shirt and jeans were replaced with a black hazmat suit, with white accents, and a big white cape. And a green ring on his finger. His hair color inverted, going from black to white, and a floating icy green crown formed above his head.

“We’ll done,” the Ghost King said.

Game show host Danny

What if one day Danny gets so annoyed at cults summoning him, he makes it a game show

Whenever someone uses his summoning circle they get transported to a game show stage where they compete to see who gets to meet the ghost king

Danny's the host but refuses to tell anyone that he's the ghost king, besides no ones ever won so it doesn't matter

Danny was prepared, he binge-watched all the game shows he could find and then convinced technes to fine him some more

There's a big wheel of fortune but instead, it's a wheel of possible dimensions they could go to

They have to guess the emotional value of certain items and people are confused when it's a thermos

They have to answer questions about fast food franchises

If you get caught cheating fright knight will chase them around threatening them for a few hours before sending them home

A challenge is to lock them all in a room with box ghost and the last person to say something mean wins

Any musical challenges are overlooked by ember

There's a game where you have to choose the right box but one of them is Pandora's box

Skuller will chase them through an obstetrical course for "physical challenges"

Everyone loves it, all of dannys rogues get to mess with humans, the cultist won't be summoning him anytime soon, and Danny gets to laugh his ass off at this...no one quite knew what to expect when young Justice tried to summon him as a dare

[retiredteabag]

learning together

• parental Gojo looks after an ill-attached Megumi with abandonment issues

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Megumi is a secretive boy. It seemed to Satoru that he hid everything. If Satoru wanted to know anything he would have to go through Tsumiki, the boys sister, to learn even the smallest of details. And even then, she rarely had anything but a smile to share.

For example, Satoru had been looking after the two little kids for months before he learned that the two of them only had one worn pair of shoes each, that and only a few articles of clothes.

"Well, why didn't you say anything?" He had scolded after seeing the blisters on Tsumiki's feet one night while watching Blues Clues.

He had realized that he would have to become all the more observant to see if there was a need in this household because he knew hell would have to freeze over for those two little kids to admit they could use help. Especially the young boy, Megumi.

It took three incidents before Satoru needed to have an intervention with the boy.

And oddly enough, they always occurred when it was just the two of them, alone.

Megumi always insisted on walking home from school. His sister was all too happy to take part in after-school activities, but the little introvert he was, he just wanted alone time.

This day had been no different from the others, he had been walking home, considering what he would have for dinner, when he saw it.

He would never admit, too ashamed of being called a liar, but the boy often saw things, strange, dark things, things nobody else saw out of the corner of his eye.

And there, right before him was something, watching him in the bushes, it was one of them, he knew it had to be.

Tsumiki always told him to be careful walking home. The woods of this area housed many of the homeless, and it tended to be no place for a child.

But here he was. Frozen still, the shadowy monster seemed to come his way, unspeaking, but threatening non the less.

Megumi threw his backpack to the front of his body, maintaining eye contact while frantically searching for something to defend himself.

There was nothing the boy hated more than being helpless.

His heart pounded in his ears, his fingertips burned with something he didn't recognize. But stronger than anything else, he was afraid. He wanted his dad. He wanted to hide.

He pulled out a pair of scissors, the same he used in art class, his arms trembled. He couldn't bring himself to make the first move so he was forced to wait until the curse came at him. He wanted to cry.

It did not take long.

He didn't even feel the ache in his bloody knees until the burning in his throat superseded all else.

He had rushed back to that apartment the white-haired man had arranged for them without a break in his step. And when the realization occurred to him of what had just happened, be felt the tearful nausea again.

There was no blood on his hands, but they shook with the fury it took to bring that monster to its knees. He had fallen to the ground with the beast, but the plunge of his scissors had gotten rid of it. Even if he was safe, however, he would never believe it.

It took a while to find the key he kept in his backpack. Fumbling fingers kept his keychain escaping his grasp. He was so encompassed by the afternoon's events that he did not even notice the tall man (boy) in the living area.

Satoru came by at least once a week, and recently even more than that. He tried to help the kids with their homework, stock their cabinets with snacks, and ensure their health. Megumi hadn't been expecting him that day.

"Oh! Megs! I've been waiting for you all day, you know, you're never home so late, don't tell me you've made a frien-" Satoru spun around so fast, the air around him seemed to make a noise with the motion. "What have you been doing?"

Put on the defense, Megumi shrunk back, "None of your business." Even after saying it, he worried he would get in trouble, worried he would be punished for talking back, despite Gojo's response to his snark always having been a chuckle, he knew adults hated disrespect.

The taller boy did not laugh now, "Oh, it's not? Megs you make me sad, what's going on? You seem tense."

The man was coming around through the common room and Megumi shuffled his bag to hide his bloodied knees. He didn't understand much of the man but he knew his eyes could also see things others could not.

"What's happened there?" Satoru pointed at the boys backpack.

"Nothing." Megumi murmured, trotting past Satoru and attempting to hide in his room. (His very own, though he often slept with his sister when he felt afraid)

"Ah, ah, ah, you shouldn't go fumbling around when you're hurt, Megumi. Come back here."

No, no, no, Megumi continued on, just about making it to his room when Satoru appeared before him. Megumi didn't know why he wanted to hide so badly, even so, he was frustrated to see the smile on the man's face. He was bent in a funny angle to look at the boy.

The boy would never understand how Gojo moved so quickly.

"Oh my, that looks bad." He made a bleh face, "How did you make it home on those knees, Megs? Hmm... I should give you a pager, shouldn't I, I don't want you running into trouble again without me. That must have been scary. Ugh, no fun at all.” All in one motion, Satoru grabbed Megumi and swung him around his hip.

"Stop! No!-" The boy flushed in embarrassment, but unbeknownst to him, Satoru could see the cursed energy encircling the boy.

And even if he didn’t say anything, he knew that something would have to change so this wouldn’t happen again.

After that day, Megumi did not walk home alone.

---

Satoru had been busy as of late, what felt like mission after mission, he was embarrassed to say, with how busy he was, he sometimes forgot he had two kids in his care.

He felt guilty, but the kids never asked for anything anyway. If they wanted something, he would get it for them. No questions asked.

It had been late one night, coming back after a mission that he saw his calendar and noticed with a grunt what week it was.

The middle schoolers were at camp according to his scribbles. Tsumiki was at camp and Megumi was all alone.

Why had he written this down? Could it be because he had insisted that Tsumiki go, promising to look after her little brother?

Satoru sighs. Did Megumi need anything? He was just a boy... but self-reliant as a man. He had been sure the little guy would be fine, even so, he couldn't deny the tug on his conscience.

Satoru almost went to bed that night before he decided he needed to check on the boy. God knows he wouldn't call - even if it was an emergency.

The sight he saw when he opened the door would stick with him for years. Mainly because he found it amusing.

Little Megumi, face flushed, wobbling on his feet, a blanket around his shoulders, and a kitchen knife in his hand.

"What are you doing!" Satoru yelled from the front door.

"Wha-" cough "-at are YOU doing!" cough "You're not here tonight!"

"Yes, I am! Put the knife down, it's just me, Megs." Satoru folded at his hips and leaned in close to the boy. It was strange, Megumi never let him get so close. "What's going on, were you scared because your sister wasn't here?"

Satoru reached out and pulled the knife out of the boys grasp. His little hands were hot, and when Megumi sniffled, he sounded congested.

"'M not scared..." It takes a staggering moment for the boys' hands to drop. Noticing he had nothing to hold.

"You sick?" And for the first time, the boy doesn't flinch when Satoru reaches a hand to his forehead.

He is, however, quickly swatted away. "No. Why are you-" cough "-here."

Satoru felt bad now, Tsumiki had probably left three days ago, how long had Megumi been sick? And why did the stubborn kid never just ask for help?

Prefacing his care he began, "I'm here because I want to be." Satoru finally lets out. Once again, he scoops the boy up, blanket and all, and is careful to set the knife back in the kitchen before using his now free hand to swaddle the boy. "Have you been sleeping on the couch?"

"Mhmm."

"Alright. No more of that. I'll be here so you just go to sleep."

Megumi didn't have anything to say. He missed his sister. He wanted to sleep in her bed. He wanted to feel safe. He wanted to feel better.

"I have a doctor friend, okay? You'll feel spick and span in no time." Satoru ruffled the boys hair.

"No, I don't wanna see them..."

Satoru furrowed his brows, "Ya know kid, you're not very convincing, I can tell you're definitely running a fever. All sweaty… like a big ball of sweat..."

"Jus' go away." Megumi said as he nuzzled his face deeper into Satorus's shirt, "I don't wanna see them."

"Sorry Megs, I'm perfect in may ways, but healing is not one of my many talents. She's really good, you'll feel better."

"I don't need help. I don't want you-"

"Alright, Megs. Go to bed." Satoru manhandles the boy like a doll, tucking him in so aggressively tight, he would have to put in real work to come free.

The next morning, Megumi had never felt so indebted to someone, and it made him sick, despite having just been healed

---

It was only a year later that Megumi called on his cursed technique.

Deep down, he had always known there was something different about him, something pulling at the surface of his being, but now, looking into the dog manifestation before him, he could finally feel purpose.

"Nice job Megs, that little dog is one of your Shikigami." Satoru grinned down at the boy sitting on the carpet of the family room.

The puppy rolled around on the floor before Megumi, and the boy's heart raced.

"She's mine?" He reached out and the puppy, sure it was a dream, she toppled over herself to nose at his hand.

"Sure is!" Satoru smiled. "And there's many more to come. Haven't you listened to me at all, Megumi? You're gonna be super strong."

But the boy wasn't listening. Blood was whooshing in his ears, saliva was pooling in his mouth, his heart was beginning to thump, but before him was a little friend. He couldn't let her go.

"Alright. You'll probably start to feel light-headed so let go of that energy. You'll be able to call her back again soon.”

Megumi was feeling woozy, that’s for sure, but there was no way he would leave her.

The puppy flickered like a mirage. Blinking slightly, she sat up, wobbling toward Megumi.

He wanted to hold her in his arms but a rush of bile was forming in his throat. His head pounded.

The puppy licked at his hand.

uh oh...

"Stop that Megumi." Satoru placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let go. She's taking too much."

Megumi's throat clenched and he swallowed thickly. Holding onto his new friend tightly.

"Stop, Megumi! Enough!" Satoru grabbed the boy by the shoulder.

The puppy faded from the boy's grasp. Megumi lurched forward, barely catching himself, and puked all over the carpet.

Satoru's hand faltered, but just a moment thereafter, he began to pat the boy comfortingly. "It's okay." He spoke gently, "That’s alright."

The boy's shoulders shook, not with tears, but with the adrenaline rush that comes with the throwing up/fight-or-flight response. He was mumbling, a hand covered his mouth.

"'m sorry. Sorry." He trembled.

Satoru sighed, unsure of how to console the boy. “Hey, 's alright. She was siphoning off your energy too quickly. You'll learn to manage it." Satoru patted the boys back but he was stumbling to his feet now.

"Carpet...sorry about the carpet." He was saying.

Satoru jumped to stand, "What? No, I don't care! It's okay Megumi. You go sit down, I can clean up."

The boy looked angry. "No. I'm fine."

He always seemed to say that.

"Seriously, I don't care about the carpet, just go take a second to calm down, that was probably a lot."

"I don't want a second!” Megumi spun, elbow covering his mouth, uncalled-for anger in his eye. "I don't need help. Just go! I can do it on my own."

There was a surge of annoyance in Satoru before he realized the boy was probably just embarrassed.

Shoko had long since told him about attachment issues and the lack of trust to expect from the boy. He just wished he could get Megumi to let his guard down.

"Megumi." He called firmly. "Stop that. I'm not upset with you, and I don't want anything in return. What I do want is for you to take some deep breaths and drink some water. You're over-exerting yourself."

"Ergh!" Megumi grunted angrily, tears in his eyes, and fled from the room.

When Satoru found the boy again. He was hiding in the coat closet. His face in his hands.

Satoru had to remind himself that the boy was hardly six, and clearly had trouble regulating his emotions. He wanted to have a real discussion with the boy, but he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t comfortable.

Gojo leaned down, slid between the coats in the closet and closed the door.

“W-what are you doing.” Megumi scooted back on the narrow floor.

Satoru sighed, “I want you to talk to me, Megs, can you do that?”

In the dark, it was hard for Megumi to see, but his benefactor could make the boy out perfectly. “What…”

Satoru sighed, considered how to say it, “I know there’s a lot of pressure on you, and I know that doesn’t feel good. But don’t go forcing yourself, okay? Take things with stride, accept help, I don’t want anything from you, Megs, and you don’t owe me anything either.”

Megumi rolled his feet around, tapping his shoes together, “I know you don’t believe me yet, but I���m not gonna leave. Your stuck with me for a while, so let’s try to get along, alright?”

The closet was silent. Satoru felt stupid, his words too plain, his mind scattered.

“Gojo…” the boy stretched his ankles out. “It gets cold at night... I wanna change the therma-thermostat.”

It took all but a second for Satoru to grab hold of the metaphorical raft Megumi was giving him. “What? All this time?!! That’s unacceptable! That’s why you should tell me these things, this is your home Megumi, touch the thermostat all you want!” Satoru pouted, stood, and stretched.

He bent down once more after cracking the door open, the bright light shining into the little boy's eyes.

“Okay, what else should I know?” Satoru reached out to pull the boy to his feet,

And for the first time, Megumi took it.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

This is just a little drabble, I feel like this is some of my worst writing because sadly I have several more ideas about Satoru parenting Megumi

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 8

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the wonderful feedback on the last chapter! It made my week. 🥰 I truly thrive on hearing back from all of you — it gives me the fuel I need to finish this story!

(And it's rapidly becoming a beast lol.)

Word Count: 6,000 Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, mentions of past domestic abuse/trauma, PTSD, hurt/comfort, fluff, and a (small) cliffhanger.  

Part 8: Something In the Way…

It was three more rounds before he finally let you sleep. 

Or rather, you couldn’t help but drift off. Ben had said he would help you sleep, and in his words, a promise is a fucking promise.

After you’d scarcely recovered from the first round, he’d taken you from behind in your bed. You’d repaid the favor by dropping to your knees for him in the shower, after which he’d propped you up against the bathroom counter and ate you out with his talented tongue until you really did see fucking stars. 

But he’d gotten what he wanted; your voice reverberated his name off the bathroom walls with superior acoustics…  

And when you next woke up, to your surprise, Ben was still there. He was sitting up against the headboard and watching a nearly silent TV while he smoked a blunt.

“What time is it?” you muttered. 

“Around 6 a.m.,” he replied.

For God’s sake. He had to be tired by now. 

You rubbed at your bleary eyes and turned onto your side. For a moment, you just stared at his profile, wondering what the hell you were going to do if Butcher and the rest of your team actually found you. 

“Go back to sleep,” Ben said. He glanced over at you after blowing some smoke. A smirk started to curve his lips. “Thought you’d be knocked out until noon.” 

You too, if you were honest. Your insides felt like warm jelly. 

“What keeps you up if even last night can’t tire you out?” you asked. Ben didn’t answer you. He faced the TV again and took a long drag of his blunt.

Slowly you sat up, wincing at the soreness in your muscles, in your legs, arms, and between your thighs. Your entire body felt like a bag of stones, but it was a good ache. A thoroughly sated one.

You managed to sit up next to him and reach over to lay a tentative hand on his chest. It was warm, even with the ceiling fan and AC on full blast above you. He briefly looked down at your hand, then at your face. 

“What’s it really like?” you asked, before your inner filter could catch up with your brain. “The new power the Russians gave you.”

His expression changed from relaxed to tightening around the edges. 

“They didn’t give me anything,” he said, puffing away. 

You read between the lines of that statement, surprised that he was even that honest about what he went through in Siberia.

They carved it into him, you realized. Like a wound he couldn’t heal from. Without wanting to, you remembered the CIA files you’d studied about his imprisonment. 

“Did it hurt?” you asked, moving your hand down to the center of his chest. The corner of Ben’s mouth twitched humorlessly. 

“Nothing fucking hurts me,” he said. His voice was flat, and matter-of-fact. But he didn’t even look at you. 

Maybe he didn’t want you to catch the lie in his eyes. But as curious as you were, you didn’t want to push too hard. Not for the first time since you got here, you realized that you weren’t really sure what you were doing. 

During the day, the two of you had your own lives. You swam in the pool, trained yourself in the gym, and read in the garden. You played cards with Loco and Saul when they had time for a break (from whatever it was Soldier Boy had them doing). 

And over dinner one evening, Frank even told you that his daughter was fifteen going on sixteen, and sweet as pie, but she could get an attitude real quick.

“You remind me of her sometimes,” Frank remarked.

You scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Frank’s answer was merely a wry raise of his brow. 

You just rolled your eyes and carved into your steak. Simone’s cooking was in rare form tonight.

And at night, Ben invaded your room like it was his own.

You couldn’t help but let him in, and into your bed. You were frankly surprised that he hadn’t gotten bored of you now that he’d gotten what he wanted. 

But apparently, he felt the same way as you…that one taste was just not enough. 

Like now, while the radio played on the nightstand. And he had you naked and writhing beneath him on the bed. 

One of his hands rested below your ribs, holding you down while his head was caged between your thighs. Your knees were squeezing his head like a grape, but of course, all he felt was encouraged.

Your moans were getting higher, more keening as his tongue worked inside your hot core. Meanwhile, his thumb circled and pressed at your clit relentlessly.  

Your grip threatened to pull out a chunk of his hair, your leg wrapping tighter around his neck. “Ben…goddamn it…”

“A little busy right now, sweetheart,” he teased, taking a beat to nip hard at the inside of your thigh. It had you bucking against his chin with a gasp. His gaze raised up to yours, dark and filled with desire between your legs. Sweaty locks of his brown hair were falling over his brow. 

Though you were panting for breath, you managed to sweep his hair away from his dewy forehead. His eyes traced the path of your hand, but he stared back up at you again. 

“Tell me what you want while I’m still feeling generous,” he demanded. Two of his fingers found their way into your entrance, a placeholder for his mouth. “I’ll fucking finish you just like this, have you coming apart on my tongue—”

You were surprised he was giving you a choice at first. But you saw his intentions in his eyes—he wanted to fill you up regardless. His dick was straining hard against your thigh, and your core was pulsing with need anyway.

“Want you inside me,” you panted, though not without a cheeky smile of your own. “Almost as much as you wanna be in me.”

Ben smirked and wiped at his mouth and chin. “Yeah, fucking right. You know how hard you’re squeezing my goddamn fingers right now?”

He twisted said fingers inside you, making you utter a strangled sound. His smirk deepened, but he withdrew them just long enough to line himself into your entrance and slide right in, with little resistance as he bottomed out.

You clung to his shoulders as you shuddered at being entirely filled to the brim. You still weren’t used to that feeling—of being consumed from the inside out. 

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, “so fucking tight.” 

You squeezed around his hips with your legs, digging your heels into his ass. Your hold was desperate, but Ben just braced himself above you.

“For god’s sake,” you blurted. “What’re you waiting for?”

Even he was breathing harder now, maybe more from restraint than exertion. His smirk was devilish though. “What’s the magic word, baby doll?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

Ben rocked against you a little, but not enough to give you what you wanted. Just enough to drive you insane. On some level, you had to admire his restraint.

“Fucking say it,” he said, his gaze firming. “Unless you want me to leave that pretty pussy on fire.”

You had a hard time believing that one, considering he was the one who couldn’t seem to go twenty-four hours without getting some. But you were just desperate enough in this moment to oblige his demands. 

You hooked a hand behind his neck and pulled him down to crash your lips into his. You licked into his mouth and bit sensuously on his bottom lip. He rumbled a deep, pleased sound that you felt in your chest.

And you felt his hand spanning the small of your back. Your fingers once again dove into his hair. 

Eventually you spoke against his lips, “Please. I fucking need you…”

His lips twitched in satisfaction. But he read the sheer wanting in your eyes, and the bit of vulnerability in your voice. Like you hadn’t been taken apart quite like this before. Or maybe it had really been that long for you. 

Whatever it was, this seemed to matter to you. The way you responded to his every touch, the way you demanded from him, was incredibly fucking hot.

So he was more than willing to help you make up for lost time. 

Ben licked his already wet lips and guided you back down. He actually put his all into fucking you. Not only were you the hottest piece of ass he’d had in a long time, but it was a point of pride for him. 

He wanted to be the only one you remembered—the one who’d turned you inside out and made you forget that you were supposed to hate him. 

Because yeah, he was that fucking good. And you were worth the effort. 

He held you tight enough to bruise as your release hit you in waves, sending hot tingles all over your body and making you freaking light-headed. Your tightening inner walls around his cock brought him along with you, and he spilled into you with a straining grunt. 

Once he’d pulled out and slid onto the bed next to you, an exhausted sigh fell from between your lips. But Ben turned to you with an almost boyish grin. 

“You mentioned something about the new Bond movie,” he said. 

You blinked at him, for a moment uncomprehending. Then you had to laugh. “Yeah, I said that an hour ago. Then you all but tackled me onto the bed.” 

He shrugged and turned on your TV. 

“Put it on while I wash up,” he said, tossing you the remote. You had a feeling it was because he still hadn’t gotten the hang of the apps on smart TVs. You sent him a narrowed look, but you found Skyfall on Netflix. 

“It’s not new, exactly. New to you, maybe,” you quipped. 

“I already know it’s not gonna be as good as Connery, but I’ll give this British asshole a try,” he said from inside the bathroom.  

“You will, huh?” you asked with a grin. “Didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.”

“What?” 

He finally came back out, still buck naked, and returned to your side on the bed. He gave you a quirking brow. 

“Never mind,” you said with a chuckle. You went to the bathroom to clean yourself up too, then dragged on a large shirt over a pair of underwear. By the time you returned to the bed, Ben had gotten a bowl of popcorn and, of course, a large blunt.

You knew he was self-medicating. According to Butcher and Hughie, the guy had been suffering from PTSD big time…well, you hadn’t needed them to tell you that.

Even though your interactions with him before now had been somewhat limited, you knew that he couldn’t sleep. He boozed and drugged hard, from what you’d seen of his hangovers in the morning. 

The rest of it, he tried to keep a tight lid on. A byproduct of the bygone “never share your honest man feelings” era. Butcher was another one. But you were perceptive enough to see that Ben was hiding.

You were still curious though; still wanted to know what it was he hid behind stoicism and lust.  And what then?

“I’ll give Hollywood one thing. The stunts and effects are fucking incredible now,” Ben said. He was glued to the car chase on the TV screen. He was almost like a little kid, his eyes lighting up with every explosion and seemingly impossible move James Bond made to evade his enemies.

It had been a while since you’d seen this movie, but then it dawned on you that there was a certain erotic-ish scene between Bond and the villain, Raoul Silva, that you weren't sure of how Ben would react.

You shook your head. Another consequence of him being from a much different time, along with his outdated views on gender roles, among other things. 

No matter how frustrating he could be, you reminded yourself of the night he helped you cook. And the night he saved you. 

He could change, you reasoned. Maybe. With the proper motivation—

A shootout with a machine gun on the screen jolted you a bit, interrupting your thoughts. You reached over to the bowl of popcorn in Ben’s lap and grabbed a handful. But when you heard his breathing shallow, you glanced at him and frowned in concern. 

His gaze was on the TV, but his eyes were glazed over, slightly dilated. He was sitting very still, and he looked pale. 

“Ben,” you tried, with a tentative hand on his bare chest. His skin was hot to the touch, and clammy with sweat. 

“Hmm, what?” He turned his head towards you, but you he wasn’t really hearing you. His gaze ran through you, and above your head.

“Ben,” you said, more firmly. You kneeled next to him, grabbing his shoulder for leverage, and grabbed his face to turn it towards you. He blinked down at you. 

Your name fell from his lips, almost like a question. He wasn’t able to focus on you though. You called his name again and took his face with both hands. 

“Wherever you are in your mind right now, you’re here with me. Stay with me!” You raised your voice. His skin was getting really hot. 

You gasped and had to let go of him when it threatened to burn you.  

His chest started to glow and hum. Your eyes widened, and finally, so did his. 

Ben pushed you away from him and knocked you clean off the bed. He managed to angle himself with his chest upwards, just in time for the nuclear power in his chest to carve a huge hole into the ceiling, through the entire roof of the mansion, and up into the sky. 

Afterwards, Ben slumped, taking in ragged breaths and wiping sweat from his face. But then his eyes widened with realization. He looked over and saw you prone on the floor. 

He slid off the bed and went to you, dropping a knee at your side and reaching a hand to your cheek. He called your name once, then twice. When you didn’t wake up, his hand hesitated, then moved to feel your pulse. 

He felt it thrum beneath the pads of his fingers. You were alive, just knocked the fuck out for a bit…

So he eased you into his arms and slid your hair away from your face, unwilling to admit, even to himself, that he was worried. 

Not until you roused in his arms did he let out a subtle, relieved breath.

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You groaned. “What the hell…”

Your beautiful eyes opened and met his. 

“You with me?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” though you winced at a nod. Your gaze shifted behind him and a soft gasp fell from your lips. Ben glanced over his shoulder, and the two of you looked up at the giant hole in the ceiling that was letting the bright glow of the moon into your bedroom. 

There was a mess of debris and wood and plaster all over the room. Even you and Ben were covered in a fine layer of it. He was avoiding your gaze now.

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at him. 

You just sighed and offered him a smile.

“At least now I have a window in here,” you joked. “Was getting stuffy as hell."

That night, you slept in his room. You practically drowned in his large, plush bed that smelled like his cologne and aftershave. 

Though you hoped he didn’t expect you to stay here from now on. As much as you were starting to like him (and you still didn’t want to admit that fact), there were times when you needed your privacy. 

By the time you woke and started your day, however, Ben led you to a new room. It was bigger, with nicer furnishings, including a king-sized bed instead of a queen. It was bigger than your entire apartment back home in New York.

“Wow,” you said, turning to him with a smile. “Thank you.”

Though at that point, you knew Stockholm syndrome was real. 

Ben shrugged, returning your smile a bit. “Got twenty more of these. No big deal.”

“Right.” You raised a brow, then turned to survey your surroundings with your hands on your hips.

He’d insisted on carrying all your things himself (likely due to an old-fashioned sense of machismo-backed chivalry), even though the room was on the same floor as your old one. It was much closer to his, you noticed.  

Then you felt his hands snaking down your sides from behind, molding to the curve of your waist. You felt the warmth of his chest through his clothing as he pressed against your back. 

“Time to break it in,” he said, with the deepening turn of his voice that too often made your insides quiver and melt into goo. 

“Do you ever get tired of fucking?” you quipped. Though it lost its effect somewhat when you leaned against him, all too willing. 

Ben chuckled into your ear. “Take it as a fucking compliment, sweetheart. Your pussy is the sweetest I’ve had since before I went under.”

That made you pause. You turned in his arms and looked up at his face with a challenging brow. You wondered if he was just sweet-talking you (his version of it, anyway), or if he really meant that shit. 

“Don’t believe me?” he asked. 

“You’ve been plowing through hookers and escorts for months. Professionals,” you pointed out. “You don’t have to lie to me just to butter me up.”

“Why the fuck would I lie about some stupid shit like that?” he retorted. You frowned at him.

“Because it’s not stupid,” you said.

You pushed his hands from you and turned away, but he held you fast by your wrist, pulling you back toward him. You frowned in annoyance at his manhandling.

“What’s the real reason you hadn’t fucked anyone in three years?” he asked. Though it was more a demand than a question. 

“Why’re you so hung up on that?” you asked. “It’s no big deal.”

“Why are you so shocked by what I said?” he countered. He was giving you a choice: answer one question, or the other. 

You let out a frustrated breath and waved your arms in exasperation.  

“I was busy, okay?” you said. “Vought had me on tough hours and shitty details. I didn’t have time for a life.”

And after the things you’d seen, you didn’t much feel like interacting with people, be they supes or normal humans. 

“That’s not the real reason,” Ben said. His fingers held your chin so you couldn’t look away. In the deep green of his eyes, you saw the same curiosity that plagued you.

Maybe…maybe if you gave him an inch, he’d give you one. 

Metaphorically speaking.

“I didn’t like who I was,” you confessed at last. “I just…I don’t know. Nothing felt right back then. It just took me a while to finally do something about it.” 

He seemed to consider that, and you.

You took the opportunity of his distraction to extricate yourself from his grip, and you ventured further into your new room. Your eyes lit up when you found an old record player sitting on a dresser, and a basket full of vinyl on the floor next to it. 

“Wow, seriously retro,” you said with a chuckle. But you knelt down and started flipping through the collection. Ben followed you. With his arms crossed, he looked over your shoulder at the record you fished out. Abbey Road by the Beatles, 1969. You placed the record and set the needle at a specific song.

The drums kicked off into a familiar electric guitar melody. Then John Lennon’s voice echoed through the room. 

“Something in the way she moves, attracts me like no other lover…”

Nostalgia flooded through both of you, albeit for different reasons. For you, it reminded you of your grandpa (on your mother’s side). He’d dedicated this song, “Something,” to your grandma on their 50th anniversary. He’d made sure you played it again a year later, at her funeral. 

Meanwhile, this song always reminded Ben of fingerfucking Farrah Fawcett at a Beatles concert. Ah, the ‘70s. A wild fucking time.

“Good choice,” he remarked. 

You flashed him a smile. 

And with a sigh, you turned to sit against the dresser while the record played. You pat the ground next to you, and while Ben looked reluctant, he eventually sat down beside you. It seemed he had nothing better to do.

“I dabbled in music myself, you know?” he told you, with a smug raise of his brow. “Had a few hits on the charts.”

You grinned in amusement. “Yeah, I had to muck through every one of your cheesy-ass music videos.”

“Hey, every one of those fucking singles were gold.” He shot you an indignant look. “What, had to?”

“When I was researching you,” you said with a chuckle. He raised a brow at that. 

“Oh, yeah?” He rubbed a hand over his beard and met you with a critical eye. “What else did you dig into?” 

You met his eyes, and you knew he had some idea of what you were thinking. 

Ben let out a breath through his nose, craving some reefer. 

“Ah. That, huh?” he said. After a moment to gather your courage, you took a breath.

“Ben—”

“It’s not worth fucking talking about,” he said, a bit of grit edging in his voice. 

“It is if you’re still blowing craters into ceilings, Ben,” you replied sharply. “Do you even remember what happened yesterday?”

His steely silence was all you needed to know. 

“Look, I’ve gone through some shit too,” you said. “But forty years? …I know I’ll never completely understand what you went through, but—”

“You don’t have a fucking clue,” he said. His eyes were sharp, but also guarded. 

You couldn’t help it. The footage you watched was playing inside your mind in perfect scenes. You remembered the sound of his desperation, his struggle. And it had been all-too familiar to you.

“Maybe,” you agreed. “But I do get having shit that flashes behind your eyes, like a bad movie. Things you can’t forget. Things that won’t even do you the mercy of letting you sleep.”

Ben was reluctant to meet your eyes, as if even that small thing would be an admission of weakness. But when he did, you knew he would see a kindred spirit.

“Things that clog up the works,” you continued. You wet your dry lips, swallowing past a tendril of nerves. “And things that should be easy get…complicated. Like watching a movie, or…”

You had to take in a somewhat shaking breath, turning your face away. 

It allowed Ben to look at you a fraction softer. His mind was able to flash away from some of the past, to a more recent memory: the first time you’d pulled him into your room and let him into your bed. 

You’d pleasantly surprised him a few times that night, but there was one moment where he hadn’t known what to do next. 

When he saw panic instead of pleasure take over, and however briefly, he’d wondered if he truly was the monster everyone seemed to think he was.

So now, Ben couldn’t help but reach out to you. The back of his hand touched your neck. Your eyes widened a fraction when his thumb brushed down the column of your throat. 

“What happened to you?” he finally asked. He seemed more than just curious. There was more behind his eyes, and enough earnestness for you to consider trusting him with this part of you…

But still, you were reluctant to give him that big of an inch. 

“It’s only fair,” he pointed out. “The CIA gave you the full low down on me.”

Once again, you sighed. Can’t argue with fair. 

You rested you head back against the wooden dresser as “Oh! Darling” started to play from the record. Now didn’t feel like a particularly good time for a doo-wop, but such was your reality.

“I told you about my dad, right?” you said. Ben inclined his head.

“Something about the family business.”

You nodded. “He trained me. How to read people, how to fight…but he was the first one we had to defend ourselves from.”

Ben considered that with a deepening frown. He’d had an idea this story was going that way, but hearing you come out and say it (even without really being able to say it) just made him angry. His hands clenched into fists where they rested at his sides, on the ground. Until something you said called his attention.

“We?” he repeated. You nodded again. 

“My mom, and my younger sister,” you said, with a tremulous breath. “He was a drunken bastard for most of my childhood. I was about thirteen when he put my mom in the hospital, and it was…bad.” 

You swallowed past a lump of emotion in your throat—mostly at the guilt. If it hadn’t been for you, and your weakness, your mom wouldn’t have needed to intervene. She wouldn’t have had to try to protect you…

“From there, my grandparents got us out of that house,” you said, with a suspect sniff. “Mom finally divorced him.”

Unfortunately, the story didn’t end there.

By the time you were in high school, your father had gotten through his court-ordered rehab and managed to get his life back together. He built his P.I. firm back up, and by all appearances, he seemed to turn his life around. 

He convinced your mother of it enough that she let you work for him after school.

You hadn’t wanted to, but your father had a way of manipulating you too. He reminded you that your grades were shit (I fucking wonder why?). You had little chance of making it to college, so at least he could teach you a trade. 

“I’ll even pay you,” he’d said. And you’d taken the bait. 

He’d been unrelenting in your training, as he was in most respects. As a former Marine, he was rigid in his discipline, demanding perfection from you. 

However, when he felt his lessons weren’t being drilled into your head, he reinforced them with his calloused hands. 

And when Vought came to him, offering him a contract, he negotiated one for you too, without even asking if that was what you wanted. But you went along with it…until you couldn’t anymore.

“I finally broke contact with him when I left to join Supe Affairs,” you finished, quickly wiping a tear from your cheek. You glanced over at your captive audience with slight hesitation.

Ben looked stoic on the surface, calm even. But you didn’t know that it had taken every cell of self-restraint in him to stay quiet. Your red, shining eyes, the way you’d had to stop a few times to collect yourself—it all grated on him in the worst way. 

“Christ on a cross,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his mouth and chin. “Why the fuck did you work with him?” 

“I told you. I was a kid—”

“No, I mean when he got the fucking deal from Vought,” he said tersely. “You could’ve split. Found yourself a husband, got your own life. Why the fuck would you sell yourself out like that?”

Your lips pursed. “First of all, I don’t need a husband to have my own life. Second, I’m not the only one here who worked for Vought.”

Ben huffed. He wanted to call you a fucking idiot. He wanted to say, See? This is why you need a real fucking man in your life. 

But with daddy issues this bad, you’d probably fuck that up too. 

“Answer the goddamn question,” he said instead, though none too gently. 

You gave him a soft glare. Didn’t he realize how hard it was for you to say all of this aloud, let alone confide in him?

But now that he did know, maybe he’d be more likely to open up to you. You would be able to understand him better, and maybe…maybe one day, you could convince him to let you go. 

So you felt you had no choice but to answer his real question. 

Why the fuck did you follow your father to Vought?

The truth was, that man had a way of getting into your head, living in your skin, and making it crawl.

“He’s a manipulative bastard,” you said. 

He knew how to work you, just like your mom. And your mother was…well, damaged. You knew you couldn’t rule yourself out of that one either. 

However, the thought did spark your own curiosity. 

“What were your parents like?” you asked. 

The question seemed to surprise him. His frustration with you melted into a more uncertain frown. You bumped his shoulder with yours.

“Come on. It’s only fair,” you teased. A smile lifted his lips, but his eyes became rueful.

“She was a good woman,” he replied, speaking of his mother. “Quiet maybe, unlike you.”

You smiled in amusement at that. 

“But elegant,” Ben said. The softening edges of his smile told you volumes.

“She didn’t grow up with much, so when she married my father, she learned how to live in his world," he said. "But she still cooked and cleaned and pretty much ran the house, even though we had people to do that shit.”

“How did she meet your dad?” you asked. You knew his father’s family was from old money. He’d inherited his empire from his father before him.

Ben glanced at you. “She sang at this club…a nice one though, not some fucking dive. She wasn’t the star or anything, but my father noticed her. Said she was the only one who could pull off red lipstick without looking like a whore.”

That made you roll your eyes, which provoked an amused grin out of Ben.

“Charming,” you remarked. It must’ve really upset the old apple cart when his father married his mother. You wondered how she’d felt about Ben becoming Soldier Boy…

“Doesn’t sound familiar?” he asked. "Pretty girl in red, croonin' for a bunch of assholes in a musty fucking club?"

At first, you were confused.

And then, you realized the reason for his not-so-subtle grin. With an incredulous blush, you supposed that you and Ben had met in much the same way as his parents. 

Well, that’s not creepy at all, said the more rational part of your brain.

…Or maybe, weirdly romantic, whispered the other part. The part that had probably caved after you watched Ben try and fail to chop onions for the first time.  

“What was your favorite thing about her?” you asked. 

“You know, all my pictures of her are in black in white…I don’t even remember what color her eyes were,” he admitted. “But I remember her voice. Smooth as warm butter. She’d hum with the radio whenever she cooked. If Dad wasn’t there, she’d belt out a tune or two. I’d sit in the kitchen and watch.”

Imagining that scene made you smile softly. 

“Her captive audience,” you teased. Ben took it with a quirk of his mouth. 

“What about your dad?” you asked. He turned to you with a knowing look. You both knew what the man had thought of Ben. But you wanted to hear it in his own words.

“My father was a stern man,” he said. The softness was gone, and your smile fell. “This kind of larger-than-life force when I was a kid… Of course, when I became a man, he didn’t consider me worth the fucking effort. Not even when I became a hero, and everybody in the fucking world knew my name, he couldn’t admit that I’d fucking surpassed him.”

You sighed. More than anyone, you understood the underlying resentment in Ben’s tone. The kind of young recklessness that pushed him into becoming Soldier Boy, trying to prove his father wrong. 

“He thought you cut corners to do it. And while he wasn’t wrong,” you said, as gentle as possible. You held your ground when Ben looked sharply at you. “You didn’t deserve to be ignored either.”

Ben scoffed at that, as if he didn’t give two shits one way or the other. You knew better. 

So the two of you kept talking, sitting there on the floor long after the record finished. You traded stories and bickered as you often did.

But when you managed make him laugh, genuine, hand-on-chest, and almost boyish, you had to try and stem off a blush as you felt a pleasant flutter in your belly.

“It’s been two fucking months since you lost him in Colombia, and what do you have to show for it?” Grace Mallory said into the screen of her cell phone. FaceTime was only glitching slightly, at least. 

On the other side of the looking glass, Butcher was annoyed.

“He’s like a coil of smoke,” he said. “Pulled a motherfucking Houdini act. I have half a mind to think he’s gettin’ some help. Other than the ex-military cunts he recruited on the road.” 

Grace thought for a moment. “Give me five minutes.”

Butcher hung up before she did. With a purse of her lips, she searched for another number in her contacts. Some personal assistant answered the line.

“Get me Stan Edgar,” she said. 

“Well, he’s actually in a meeting right now—”

“Now,” Grace snapped. “Unless you want a CIA squad storming the tower for withholding evidence.”

In less than thirty seconds, Stan’s familiar monotone greeted her.

“Good afternoon, Grace,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“You fucked up, Stan,” she replied, resting back in her office chair. “This doesn’t bode well for you.”

“To what matter are you referring?”

“You know exactly what. I’m going to ask you this once,” she said. “If I don’t get a straight fucking answer, I’ll have no other recourse but to rake through your records all over again. And we both remember how pleasant that was.”

“We’ve done nothing but comply with the government’s demands.”

“Right,” Grace scoffed. “Listen to me. If I find out that you’ve withheld information about Soldier Boy’s location—or even so far as helping him evade my grasp—I will dig so far up your ass, you won’t be able to fucking breathe.”

There was a pause on the other line. 

Eventually, however, the little toad spoke. 

“You’ll have the coordinates shortly.”

Grace’s mouth curved with a grim smile, and she hung up. 

Meanwhile, in his office at Vought Tower, Stan sighed and turned to his Chief of Security, Jon.

“Should we send them the comprehensive list of Soldier Boy’s safe houses?” he asked.

“No. Just the one in Colombia,” Stan said. “But Jonathan, it is time for our contingency plan.”

Jon met Stan’s gaze with a nod. 

“I’ll give the order.”

AN: 😬 Welp, things are going to start getting bumpy from here lol.

Next Time:

His frown deepened the moment he saw you, which you didn’t quite understand.

“Ben,” you said, even though it was an effort to do so. Every breath was like a hot knife cutting deeper into your side.

Your eyes closed at the pain, and at tears that burned down your cheeks. It also cut through the brain fog enough for you to realize this was bad.

It was very bad.

Keep Reading: PART 9

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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[macsimagines]

Yandere toman [draken, mikey, baji, chifuyu, mitsuya] but everyone bar darling is an alpha.

Please forgive my lack of clarification 😅

(Ok so I'll do this because of all the confusion but next time, please read carefully because I did ask only three and i did ask you to specify multiple times. try to be courteous next time)

TW: ABO, Breeding kinks, Smell kink, Stalking and generally ruuuude behavior.

Alpha!Mikey

Smells like iron and blood. Others hate it but its such a powerful and intimidating scent that others know to back the hell off.

You were Mikey's first. He's a prime alpha and when he smelled you as a child when you first met he knew you were gonna be his it was like an unspoken rule.

Strangers are surprised he's a prime alpha with his baby face but Toman knew there was never gonna be any other way.

You being an Omega was also a no brainer. He'd been preparing you since your children to match his designation, he wasn't going to accept anything less.

Slowly he started to build his pack. It wasn't that he had any biases for the other genders, but he did have preference for alphas. Ruling over a powerful group of apex predators made him feel like a real beast.

Mikey isn't as possessive over you as one would think. Everyone in the pack belongs to him and therefore he groups you all together. He likes it when you smell like the others because he makes the others smell like him. All the scents mingling really pleases him.

Favorite thing to do is to hold you still while one of the other's scents and marks you. He wants you to smell like all of his men and he wants his men to smell like you.

Really likes watching you get drunk off the collective pheromones. Thinks your flushed face as you get high off of it is the biggest turn on.

You're such a good omega, your body knowing that your alphas are all gonna make you feel so good. And that's another big thing, his pack needs to be servicing you and him.

There's so much love to go around you'll never feel the need to leave...

He loves it when you nest and you've got two or three of his alphas there to protect you. Such a good pack looking out for the Omega

Alpha!Draken

Smells like fresh cut grass, so soothing and calming.

Submits to only Mikey. Everyone else can go die, but he does make an exception for you. He likes to let you scent him more than he does Mikey because you're so gentle when you rub against his neck.

Is very perceptive of smells though, the second he gets a whiff of someone not Pack on you he's quick to memorize the scent and wipe it away with his own.

That punk better hope to god Draken never finds him, Toman's Omega needs to smell like Toman and he's got no right to fuck with you.

Knows his place is keeping everyone in line, and keeping you pleased and safe, makes sure they all know that too. If you're feeling scared he's making sure that the Pack alphas have you surrounded and protected.

Makes sure you fulfil your job as well though. The Pack needs their omega ready for them and he's got you presenting and ready for whoever needs you. Makes sure to clean you up but also keep you stuffed.

Mikey likes to know Toman is taking care of it's sweet girl, and Draken is such a good boy he makes sure their leader can see that his Omega is well full of her alphas.

But this boy also takes his rewards too. He gets second dibs after Mikey when your heat hits and your nest is guarded and ran by him. No one gets in without Draken saying its ok and if you haven't earned the privilege then fuck right off.

Yandere!Baji

Somehow smells like a car crash. A huge warning sign about him.

Takes no shit type of Alpha. He very rarely submits voluntarily because he wants to be made to submit. You want to be in charge or on top then prove it to him.

Is constantly scenting you, and has gotten checked by Mikey and Draken multiple times. It's not his fault his scent is so strong right?

Needs his omega often. You're his stress relief and he's such a good alpha that he deserves it right?

You want a knot? He's there to give it. Also gets into trouble for not asking permission to have his way with the omega.

Can't stand other alphas outside of the pack being near you, nearly tore off Pah's arms for holding out his hand to you when you tripped.

Gets into huge trouble for not asking permission to be in your nest. You've bitten him multiple times and Mikey's kicked him across the room for not listening.

Subconciously scents everyone's possessions. Everyone's bikes, their jackets and bags. Everything. He needs people to know who they're dealing with.

At least he's good at warding people off.

Alpha! Chifuyu

Smells like citrus. Lemons and Oranges so fresh and clean.

Suuuuuch a good boi. Always chirping after you, making sure you've got food and blankets for your nest.

Very responsible alpha! Also very good at submitting to the others. Knows his place and sometimes is rewarded with second dibs during your heat. (Mikey is always first)

BUT he is also the residential snitch. Caught you scenting someone else? He's telling the others immediately, doesn't matter if it was your kid cousin thats NOT ok.

Has got a tracker on your phone, and makes sure the other's can see where you're going.

Finds out you're alone and without one of them and makes sure he's there or one of the others knows you're unsupervised.

Goes crying to Baji when you try to give him the cold shoulder for being a good Alpha, then lets Baji talk him into knotting and scent marking you to teach you a lesson in loyalty.

Really like's it when you scent him, and when you don't he eats you out so he can smell like you for the rest of the day.

Really really really like eating you out after everyone else got to have you. Especially licking you clean after Baji. You all taste so good he can't help it!!

Alpha!Mitsuya

Very weird smell of clean linen and paint chemicals, but it works.

Makes a lot of your sweaters and when he doesn't do that he's approving of your wardrobe first before you wear it. He wants to make sure your clothes are comfortable and markable. Certain fabrics retain their smells longer.

Is in charge of your nesting materials and makes sure it gets delivered and scented by all the alphas before giving them to you.

Has on occasion helped build your nest. Mikey and Baji get jealous but Draken actually defends him stating he know what he's doing.

Has the most important job of panty patrol, where he takes whatever undies you've been wearing that day and delivers them out to the other alphas.

Mikey gets first dibs on the one's when you're about to go into heat because those are his favorites.

Feeds you often like a good alpha should, after making dinner for his family and of course you.

Usually takes you to the other alphas because you can't be trusted to not wonder off and they're not reliable about sharing you with each other.

He's got the biggest breeding kink out of all the others though. Seeing you with his sisters makes him want puppies out of you the most...

[seiya-starsniper]

Uh, if you do want *another* prompt to get you to 200k (I know I already sent one) number 28 from the Smutty fic list is just sooo Hobrinthian. Just saying. ;)

28. A puts a blade by B's throat, be it seriously or as a joke/teasing. B's reaction is…enthusiastic || AO3 Link Here

SPOFSDOKFS the best part about this is that I am always writing some variation of this prompt for this ship. And I love that get to do it again for my birthday celebration 💖💖 hope you enjoy friend!!!

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“I am searching for some wayward creations of mine,” Dream tells Hob late in the evening of their reunion meeting. “They departed for your world when I was captured, and I worry they are causing irreparable damage.”

Hob nods solemnly, taking another sip from his near empty pint of beer. He waves a server down to refill their drinks, and Dream accepts his refilled glass of wine graciously. It is the first time Hob has ever seen him actually consume whatever was put in front of him. His friend must be under a lot of stress indeed.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks. “Not sure I know how to identify a dream or a nightmare, but I’ve been around a while. Just tell me what to look for, yeah?”

Dream considers the offer, then begins to tell Hob about his missing Arcana.

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After a few phone calls, a twelve hour flight, and nearly three weeks of following a trail of bodies, Hob finds himself face to face with the last of Dream’s missing creations. 

Well, technically they’re face to face. If one ignored the fact that Hob’s mouth was currently pressed up against the Corinthian’s. 

Hob had tracked the Nightmare to a gay nightclub in the Southern region of the United States, figuring out relatively quickly that the Nightmare had a type. He had, at first, thought the Corinthian had held some sort of prejudice, but when he stepped in to stop the Nightmare mid-murder, Hob realized very quickly that the blond just liked to play with his food.

Hob, of course, had gotten stabbed first in the abdomen, and then in the thigh for all his troubles, and somewhere in the scuffle he’d knocked the Nightmare’s glasses off his face and smashed them under his foot. When the Corinthian realized that Hob wasn’t surprised by the look of him, and that he wouldn’t die from something as simple as a stab wound, the blond had taken a decidedly different interest in him.  

It's not quite a kiss between them, it's more teeth (and there are so many teeth) than tongue, and there is nothing gentle about the way Hob slams the blond into the brick wall behind him. He can feel the cool steel of a second knife at his throat, which only makes Hob's blood run hotter. The first one is still buried in his thigh, the pain long forgotten in favor of Hob’s rapidly hardening cock.

“You’re not like the others,” the Corinthian growls into his mouth. His teeth bite down hard on Hob’s bottom lip, drawing blood, and Hob hisses before he slams the blond’s back harder into the wall. “You’re something older, something that can’t die.”

“Bingo, darling,” Hob pants, before he bites down on the Nightmare’s neck and runs his tongue along the same strip of skin. “Your creator’s been looking for you. You’ve been a bad boy over here in the States.”

“You can tell Dream to fuck right off,” the Corinthian snarls, pushing back against Hob’s body, but not quite pushing the immortal off. Hob knows the blond could propel him across to the other side of the alleyway if he really wanted, he’s only human after all, and the beautiful beast in his arms is so much more than that. Hob laughs as he feels the blade against his neck draw blood. He’s surprised he isn’t dizzy from the blood loss yet. 

“Can’t do that pet,” Hob purrs as he moves a hand down to the Corinthian’s trousers, still unbuttoned from his previous encounter before Hob arrived. The blond is just as hard as he is, and Hob wants to kneel at the Nightmare’s feet and get his mouth on his cock. Probably not the greatest idea given the circumstances. “You need to go back to where you came from. Would it help if I said please?”  

“I'm. Not. Ahhhh,” the Corinthian moans as Hob’s hand wraps around his cock. It’s a good size, thick and heavy in his palm. “Going back,” the nightmare finishes. His hips are thrusting into Hob’s hand now, and Hob chuckles at the eagerness.

“You sure I can't convince you?” Hob whispers into his ear, squeezing just hard enough to wring out another breathless moan. Hob ruts his own still covered cock against the Nightmare’s thigh. “I’m sure I could ask for leniency if you’re a good boy for me.”

“No fucking shot,” the Corinthian says, grinning ferally from all three of his mouths. Hob grins back with all of his teeth.

“Didn’t think so,” he replies, before he does something bold and kisses one of the Corinthian’s eye mouths. The Nightmare gasps and goes rigid beneath him. Hob worries for a brief second that he’s gravely misstepped, but then the tiny mouth opens up to him and purrs. 

Hob comes in his pants. It doesn’t take long before he’s able to finish stroking the Corinthian to completion, and then they’re quiet for a few moments, breathing heavily, the air thick with the stench of blood and sweat and sex.  

Then a thumb is pressed into Hob's eye-socket, and he screams as the Corinthian slashes his throat too fast for Hob to react. The Nightmare then yanks his other knife out of Hob’s thigh and stabs him again and again and again. Hob’s vision goes dark as his body finally gives into the blood loss and exhaustion.

Hob wakes up some unknown amount of time later in the alleyway of the nightclub, bloodied and with one eye missing. He curses at himself for his carelessness. The Corinthian could be anywhere by now. Hob really hopes Dream isn’t tracking his progress through dreams because it was going to be bloody difficult to explain to his friend that he decided to fuck instead of catch his most problematic creation. 

Then again, Dream hadn’t warned Hob about how attractive the Corinthian was going to be, so really it’s the Endless’s fault that Hob thought with his cock first.  

Hob gets a call from a blocked phone number two days later and knows immediately who it is. He hasn’t given the phone number of this burner phone to anyone. 

“I know who you are, Hob Gadling,” the Corinthian’s American accent purrs into his phone. 

Hob laughs. “Did you enjoy your meal then, darling?” he asks knowing exactly what’s happened to his missing eyeball. His body has already grown back its replacement, and it hurt like a goddamn bitch the entire time.  

He hears the Corinthian chuckle on the other line and Hob tries to imagine where the blond is right now, if he’s lazily lying in bed, or calling him from a payphone as he drives off to God knows where.  

“I'm going to hunt you down and take the other eye,” the Corinthian promises him. “How long does it take for one of those to grow back for you?” 

“Meet me in London and find out?” Hob asks, already knowing the answer. 

“I have a better idea,” the Corinthian replies. There's a convention in a few days and wouldn’t you know, I’ve been invited to be the guest of honor.”

“Have you now?” Hob asks, already pulling out a pen and paper. “And what’s this, some sort of serial killer convention?”

“Something like that,” the Corinthian replies, chuckling darkly. “You should come. It'll be a bloody good time.”

[rascalentertainments]

"What if the legend of Peter Pan you know, was more than one story?"

2025 is finally here, and I wanted my first new post to be something entirely new. Aside from making Wish Granted, I've been brainstorming a non Wish related project focusing on a reboot of Peter Pan. There's been so many versions of him over the decades, that I thought it would be awesome to create a story where nearly all the versions of him are combined into one trilogy of movies! Hence why I made a redesign of him seen above. He does looks a bit similar to the Disney version, but I wanted to add a little more modern parts to him, like having a leaf patterns referencing his original book counterpart.

The idea here is to have a three part story covering Peter's life from an ordinary boy getting taken by pirates, growing slightly into a teen and becoming a hero on Neverland, meeting Wendy and the Darling children, and going through a character arc of what it means to grow up by the end. Its something I haven't seen and want to tackle myself.

I don't have a full outline for this story yet, but I have gotten a lot of Story beats and twists on the characters I'd like to share.

•The three Titles are Peter Pan: The Starcatchers, Peter Pan: Neverland Hero, Peter Pan: The Last Pirate.

•Peter starts out as a 12 year old boy in the first movie, and turns 15 by the end and through the second and third film.

•Peter is voiced by Kaiji Tang.

•While he can't read, his favorite story he's listen to is Puss in Boots. The story later becomes his inspiration to become iconic version of Pan we know, and as a hero to the residents of Neverland.

•Additionally, this version is a combination of DreamWorks Puss in Boots, Gojo Saturo and Jack Frost all mixed together to create a new take.

•He's the first lost boy. The others boys become part of his crew after he rescues them from Hook, acting as an older brother.

•Peter was alone on Neverland for two days, until he uses stardust to bring his shadow to life so he wouldn't be alone anymore. Shadow and Peter grow up together and become inseparable on adventures. They consider each other brothers.

•People in Neverland do age, but it's very slow. Which is why Peter is only 15 by the time he meets Wendy.

•His mother is alive.

•His character arc will be learning what it means to really "grow up". He must make a choice between staying in Neverland and remaining as he is, or live a new life with Wendy.

•Wendy keeps getting nicknamed "Darling" by Peter. 😂

•He's from the 1930's and by the time he meets Wendy, it's 1990's. Its a shout out to Steven Spielberg's "Hook". There's going to be a lot of references to past versions of Pan!

•He's very disoriented by the big city, especially with all the cars around and way more people than in his own time.

•Captain Hook is voiced by Ian McShane

•Hook was the one who took Peter as a child to work on his ship. In that time, he does show the boy a few pirate tricks and how to take things right underneath someone's nose.

•One Hook's crew members, Alf becomes a father figure to Peter by teaching some survival techniques, and eventually defects from Hook after growing attached to him.

•There's a different reason Peter cut off Hooks hand, and its not a practical joke.

•Tick-Tock the crocodile is in the second and third film, and is still an enemy of Hook. In this version, he's been fed so many clocks by Hook that the magic in them fused with his body, turning him into a walking, ticking beast. He's also anthropomorphic and can speak.

•Design wise, he's 8 feet tall, sharp claws and pointed teeth. He has small clock faces sticking out on his body, with his eyes looking like traditional clocks, with the little hands pointing in whatever direction he's looking.

•He's voiced by Jim Cummings.

•Tick Tock starts out as Hook's prey, but after Peter stops him from eating the Captain, he makes Pan as his enemy as well.

•Tinker Bell finds Peter when he's on Neverland, unbeknownst to her at the time that she and Peter were born at the same time.

•She has feelings for Peter as years pass on, but he only sees her as a sibling.

•Tink can be understood by humans, but she chooses to speak like a bell in front of Wendy to trick her, and it annoys Peter. .😂

That's what I got for now, and I wanted to share something non Wish related, like some of my friends. I haven't forgotten Superzeroes, its just that this has been sitting in my brain and I want to just tell it finally! There's definitely much more to develop cause it's a work in progress, but I hope you want to hear more or see more designs soon!

@your-ne1ghbor @tumblingdownthefoxden @snackara @chillwildwave @oh-shtars @jojo-ker06 @thesafireartist @uva124

@kenihewa @ishadow246

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dancing 'til the Break of Dawn - Pt 19

<Pt18

(TWST Zombie apocalypse AU where Yuu beast tames just a little too close to the sun)

“I can’t believe you’re making me clean while injured,” Yuu lamented, shaking his head.

Deuce didn’t respond, he was too busy dragging Yuu’s plant pots back inside. The plants were withering slightly, the weeds had gotten to them while Yuu was away, and the cold certainly hadn’t helped… but Yuu had faith.

Not a lot of faith, but still more faith than he did when he first planted those seeds, when he wasn’t even sure whether they would sprout.

… unless the seeds had only sprouted to be contrary or to prove a point. In which case… they will never succeed. Mwahaha!

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Is it impossible to annoy yourself? Because he was pretty sure he had just managed it. That was kind of depressing.

“You started cleaning, we didn’t even ask you to,” Ace said.

“You’re evil,” Yuu sniffed.

“I mean, yeah, true, but this isn’t why.”

Deuce set the pots down and groaned, stretching his back for a moment, before sending Yuu a flat look. “Are you admitting that you’re injured, now? Because you still haven’t finished your coconut water and cereal.”

Yuu’s sweeping took him to the other side of the store.

Because he was a good ‘roommate’ who cleaned up after both himself and others!

Which was, frankly, a necessity. Putting three teenage boys together during an apocalyptic scenario was a recipe for disaster hygiene-wise. And it was made even worse by Ace, who tracked blood everywhere he went, because he sucks.

Don’t worry, though, Ace was doing his penance:

Yuu had figured out that Ace wasn’t half bad at knitting, and Ace was now being forced to make Grim clothes. The little booties had already been acquired, but it was getting cold out and Grim didn’t have nearly enough fur to deal with it. So, of course, Yuu had decided to make this someone else’s problem. Ace’s in particular because, again, he sucks.

Would Yuu have made him do it regardless of Ace’s many crimes? There is insufficient evidence for a court of law to reliably name him guilty (nor a functioning court of law at all), so… no.

“It should be illegal to make me pay child support in this economy,” Ace complained from somewhere in the store.

“There’s no one here to prosecute!” Yuu said.

“Yeah, well, there’s no one here to make me pay, either!”

“Sucks to suck,” said Deuce. He had moved on to taking stock of their current supplies, checking to see if they were running low on any spices. Because he was surprisingly helpful from time to time.

Mostly when his food source was in peril.

Why was everyone so food-motivated these… days…?

Right. Apocalypse. Yeah, that makes sense, actually.

“Why doesn’t he have to pay?!” Ace said.

“‘Cause he helps me out from time to time. Willingly,” Yuu shot back, rolling his eyes.

Ace groaned. Loud to the point of being theatrical.

Yuu simply grinned and continued sweeping the floors.

Until he reached the front of the store.

… was that a flyer? Huh? Huh?

The doors slid open automatically when he neared it, a small bell chiming above his head, but he barely paid that any mind, reaching around and yanking the flyer down.

Cold air washed over his face as he peered down at the… foreign thing in his hands.

Many things about this made Yuu pause. The fact that someone had apparently found their hiding place was a big one, of course.

But, also, how did someone get their hands on a computer and a printer in the apocalypse?!

No, there was definitely something wrong with this.

“Yuu…?” Deuce said, standing on tiptoes to try to see over the aisles. Unfortunately for him, he was just a little too short regardless (an unfortunate consequence of being a mere teenager), and only his terrible green hair could be seen over the shelves.

Yuu ran a hand through his hair, stepping backward, letting the door shut in front of him.

And then he shook his head to himself, stuffing the flyer into his pocket.

“You good?” Deuce asked, coming around the corner, twirling a pen around his finger idly.

“I just… thought I saw something out there,” Yuu said, after a second. “My fan club’ll deal with it, if it’s a problem, though.”

Deuce pursed his lips. He nodded, slowly, and then went back to work without another word.

Yuu wasn’t surprised. Deuce, for some reason, was starting to seriously dislike Grim, and Yuu couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. Beyond the whole ‘being perfect’ thing, Grim… hadn’t really done anything to Deuce, as far as Yuu was aware. In fact, they had been getting closer as of late, Yuu had seen the two cuddling on more than one occasion (which he was very normal and not jealous about).

Not to mention Grim had saved all of their lives not too long ago!

Sure, he had only saved Ace and Deuce grudgingly, because Yuu asked him to, but Yuu was being entirely genuine when he said that he couldn’t force Grim to do anything he didn’t want to do. If Grim found that he truly couldn’t tolerate Yuu’s friends, he would bite them and force Yuu to move on.

So, yeah, honestly, Deuce had nothing to be upset about.

If anything, Yuu had more reasons to be upset with Grim.

Not that Grim could ever do anything wrong, of course, even if he tried!

It was just…

Grim was being a little… strange. Quieter, more prone to hiding and watching Yuu from the shadows. He still accepted pets when Yuu initiated them, happy to let Yuu scratch him behind the ears, but he no longer came over and rubbed up against Yuu’s legs until he dropped what he was doing in favor of pressing a kiss to the cat’s head.

His mental health was dangling from a damn string. But Grim had never really taken to cat toys, so waving that in front of him wasn’t going to lure him out…

And it was even worse for Yuu’s physical health, seeing as 99% of his survival strategy hinged on Grim liking him.

Yuu was reminded of that one story of a lady who went to the vet because her pet snake had started acting strange – eating less, laying out straight beside her in bed instead of burrowing in the blankets, that kind of thing… only for the vet had told her that her snake wasn’t sick, it was preparing itself to eat her.

It was not a particularly great thought to have.

Especially not when someone had, apparently, found their hideout. His fan club was supposed to have stopped it. Why hadn’t they?

He’d love to pretend that it had been left by a particularly bold fan club member, but zombies can’t read.

Yuu pulled the flyer from his pocket again, squinting down at the words.

Hm. It was… in English. That was… a choice, considering they lived in Japan. Yuu had taken English classes before, but it had been ages since he had even thought about school, and languages tend to slip away when you don’t use them. He could, probably, sound out the letters, but that wouldn’t help if he didn’t know what the sounds meant.

He glanced at Grim. Hiding amongst the shelves, peering at him from behind what had probably been a ketchup bottle once, but was now a weird, dark brown color. He wondered, absently, if the zombie could speak in English.

Then decided it didn’t matter – Grim wouldn’t tell him, anyway.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Deal with this for me, please?”

But Grim… didn’t.

The next day, there was another flyer. Yuu frowned, wondering, absently, whether the cultist fight had hit the Zombie Supply Chain a little too heavily. He doubted it, if only because that should have been a beating for the cultists, what with how much they had been outnumbered. Yuu would have been surprised if any died, let alone enough that his entire stalker base would suddenly go missing.

Maybe ugly-bob-man was on vacation. Or something. He wouldn’t stay gone long, though, not if Yuu was in danger. The perpetrators would become well-acquainted with him soon enough.

And yet, the day after that, there were three more fliers.

This time, Yuu hesitated, genuinely considering telling Ace and Deuce, before deciding he really didn’t want to. Things had settled down somewhat, and they’d just had a long few weeks. They deserved, like, a month of relaxation before the bullshit started up again. And this would definitely trigger his friends’ paranoia.

Yuu didn’t want to have to deal with that.

He didn’t even want to deal with his own (totally nonexistent) trauma, thank you very much!

Still, he sighed as they settled down for bed that night, and said, “Do either of you know any English?”

“Not really,” said Ace, shaking his head just slightly as he settled down against Yuu’s chest. “I know a couple of words, ‘cause tourists used to stop me from time to time to ask for directions and shit, but usually I just used Google Translate, y’know?”

Yuu nodded, because he absolutely did know.

He also thought it was annoying that Americans always came up to him in Japan expecting him to know English for them. They were the ones visiting! They should be the ones making the effort to learn how to speak with him!

There. His weekly rant about Americans is over. Time to tune in for Deuce’s answer.

“I know some!” he said.

Yuu blinked. “Really?”

Deuce said something that Yuu couldn’t understand.

Yuu clapped politely. “What’s’it mean?”

“‘Hand over the money’,” Deuce said.

“... Deuce,” said Yuu.

“What the fuck,” Ace said, emphatically.

Deuce huffed. “It’s still more than you can do.”

“That is not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“Maybe I don’t, huh, have you ever considered that?!”

“Aw, practically bilingual and yet you can’t understand a basic sentence?”

Yuu ignored their bickering. There wasn’t any real heat behind any of Ace’s words, so he didn’t have to fear Ace stabbing Deuce out of anger. And, if Deuce tried to punch Ace, he’d have to move a lot beneath Yuu to do it, and that should be enough to wake him up before a real fight could break out.

So, he was free to drift.

Dully, he thought that it wouldn’t matter if he told them about the flyers. Neither of them would know what it said, either.

It could be someone asking to team up, for all they knew – they hadn’t been killed yet! That was a good sign!

But Yuu knew that Ace and Deuce would not see it that way until they were sure what the words said. He should try to find an English-to-Japanese dictionary before telling them about it. No need to worry them over what could be nothing.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t seem to have a choice.

He wasn’t a pious guy, but he was starting to become one. If only because there was no way there wasn’t someone up there laughing evilly as he went through The Horrors again.

Yuu woke up to a dark store. Because the store was always dark at night, that’s the whole point of nighttime. He didn’t feel tired enough to go back to sleep, though. He blinked a few times to let his vision adjust to the darkness, absently pushing Ace’s head away, grimacing at the wet spot of drool that the boy had left on his chest. Why had he started sleeping in the same bed as his friends again?

Right. The futon.

Worth it.

He, slowly, extracted himself from the cuddle pile, careful not to wake either of his friends.

And then he started making his way to the front of the store.

He had woken up early, after all, he might as well see if he could catch the particularly determined salesmen in the act –.

Hm.

It might not be nighttime.

Yuu stared at the layers upon layers of fliers pasted to their door. A little awed, a little horrified.

He ignored the normal chime of the bell above the door in favor of stepping outside.

Fuck it was bright out. Yuu gave a hiss, immediately covering his eyes with his hands, almost blinded by the appearance of the stupid sun.

He heard what sounded like a laugh.

It… didn’t belong to Ace or Deuce.

Yuu flinched away from the sound, immediately dropping his hands.

There were two tall, blurry figures, both standing a little too close comfort. But they didn’t try to touch Yuu, they simply… stood there, dark figures that loomed over him just slightly, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

Honestly, it was a little menacing.

But Yuu preferred this over an outright murder attempt.

“... who’re you?” Yuu asked, rapidly blinking the tears at the corners of his eyes away, trying to take in anything about the people in front of him. Their hair looked somewhere between blue and green, so his vision must have been really fucked up.

Or maybe it was just a lingering effect of the two separate times Yuu had experienced blood loss. Or the concussion he was still, probably, recovering from! Frankly, Yuu was the chew toy of the Gods, and it was not fun!

“I’m Jade. This is my brother, Floyd,” a cool voice said.

Yuu nodded along. The names were a little strange, but he knew of a guy named Riddle, so it wasn’t too big of a deal.

“My name’s Yuu –.”

“We know.”

Oh! Okay! So the menacing vibes are certainly not going away!

No, he is just paranoid. Surely. There are normal, not horrifying reasons for them to know who Yuu is.

“Cool, cool, cool,” said Yuu, unsure how else to react. “Do you, like, know me from school or something? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember…”

“Why haven’t you been reading our flyers, ne, Yuu?” Floyd almost whined, which wasn’t exactly an answer to his question.

“I can’t read them – even if I wanted to, it’s impossible,” Yuu snapped. “I don’t know how you expect anyone to read English in Japan.”

“... oh,” said the second one.

“Yeah. Oh,” Yuu said, sighing. His vision had finally cleared, for the most part. Their hair really was blue-green, it seemed. Yuu figured that made sense – surely Deuce couldn’t be the only person with skewed priorities, though Yuu had been sure that most people who were dumb enough to bother with their hair during the apocalypse had died off by now.

“We can read it to you, then!” the second one said, a hand on Yuu’s shoulder.

It was his good shoulder, thankfully, so it didn’t hurt, but it was still a little more familiar than Yuu would usually prefer.

Before he could protest this, though, he found himself being dragged over to the wall of flyers.

He glanced behind himself, toward the boy’s brother (twin, maybe?), Jade, who had seemed more calm and collected, but the guy didn’t seem all that intent on helping him.

Great!

Where the fuck was Grim?!

“See, it says here that we’ve cleared out an old mall, so we’re inviting everyone to come live as part of a society again! It’ll be great!”

“Oh,” said Yuu. He blinked at the pair, unsure why they put him off so much. Like, sure, they were probably stupid – there was no way that plan would end well – but that shouldn’t make him uncomfortable… well, they had blue-green hair, so maybe that was just triggering his oh god I’m cursed senses? “Uh. No thanks. Going to the Cornucopia in the Hunger Games sounds safer than whatever bloodbath is gonna happen there.”

Jade smiled, his eyes gleaming strangely in the light. They were light brown, he was pretty sure, but they looked slightly off in a way he couldn’t really describe – glassy, maybe? But he certainly didn’t look like he was close to tears…

“You misunderstand, Yuu. This isn’t an offer. We are telling you that you’re coming with us.”

“Oh!” said Yuu, again. He forced a smile. “Coolcoolcool. Counteroffer.”

Yuu slid a knife into Floyd’s side.

… neither of them seemed to mind all that much.

Floyd merely pouted, as if offended.

Yuu yanked the knife back out – more out of confusion than anything. Normally, he would leave the knife in, because taking it out would put Floyd at risk for bloodloss, and if anyone knew how much of a bitch bloodloss could be it was Yuu…

But the blood that bubbled from Floyd’s new wound was sluggish, darker in color than it should have been.

Yuu stepped back, nearly stumbling over a curb, his knife out in front of him. “What the – what are you?!”

Jade drew his lips into a frown, but it was more mocking than anything. “All that pouting over the past few weeks about how us zombies aren’t talking to you, and when we finally do you go and stab us. How hypocritical.”

What?!

~~~~~

Pt20>

[earthstellar]

TF Rise of the Beasts: A Basic Guide to Writing/Drawing for Fashion in 1994

Someone sent me a message that has now disappeared (!!) which was asking for some tips on what was stylish in 1994, for the purposes of writing a time period accurate ROTB fic.

I'm sorry I don't remember their username otherwise I'd tag them, but I figured I'd provide some notes here just in case anyone else might find it helpful for ROTB fic writing or fanart! :)

1994 Style: The Coolest Magazines

So as far as I remember, there were three big fashion/culture magazines at the time:

Sassy Magazine - This one was aimed mostly at women, but was hugely popular and would be a good place to look for styles for Elena!

i-D Magazine - This is a British publication but had international distribution by the 90s. Most of their early 90s issues featured fashion shoots from both large brands and indie fashion houses, with an emphasis on styling outfits. The articles were pretty good, and covered pop culture, music, and other similar topics. This one includes styles for both men and women, and was one of the only mainstream magazines to include what would now be recognised as queer fashion (they featured Boy George etc. as cover models, too).

The Face - This one is also British but had international distribution, mostly in large cities like LA and New York (which means it's fine to reference for ROTB's setting). Similar to i-D, it featured articles on fashion, music, culture, and highlighted some subculture styles which were harder to find in other more popular magazines like Vogue at the time. This included more "casual" outfits being featured, typically as part of style guides. This one had men and women's fashion, and also featured queer celebrities or genderbending style!

And of course, any magazines from 1994 would be good to look through-- Just keep in mind that magazines like Vogue, Cosmopolitan, etc. were primarily aimed at women only (most of the menswear mags for fashion were still finding their audience at this time), and typically only featured higher end fashion, so not a lot of it was actually reflective of what people were wearing on the street.

Look at Sewing Patterns!

For the best idea of fashion and style in terms of what the average person was wearing in 1994, look up sewing patterns!

Simplicity and McCall's brand sewing patterns provide the best idea of what most people were wearing on a day to day basis.

General Style Notes

Patterned vests were in style for all genders. Typically this was layered over a long sleeved shirt or turtleneck. Some guys would just wear a vest over a tank top or even just by itself, but that was more rare. The backs of the vests were typically left plain, so the pattern was often only on the front of the vest. Some vests were made of velvet, or thickly embroidered fabric.

Denim!!! Oh my god, people loved denim. Denim everything. Double denim (jeans and a jean jacket or a denim shirt) was a popular look, although this started to taper off gradually. Usually this was styled with a patterned vest, scarf, or accessorised with a felt or denim hat.

In terms of fit, everything was slightly long, or slightly baggy. Sometimes both. Coats were baggy in the arm and shoulder, which was a carry over from the 80s trend of shoulder pads. Shoulder pads persisted into 1995-1998, mostly in women's wear, although men's jackets and suits often had high or wide shoulders too.

1994 is where fuzzy fabrics and nylon/synthetic fabrics started getting popular; This is most noticeable in the windbreaker trend, in which a lot of windbreakers were nylon/polyester or made of textured cotton/poly blends.

Quick note on early 90s synthetic fabrics: They hadn't gotten the textures quite right yet, so even though there were some minor improvements on the late 80s synth textiles, most of these fabrics were still terribly scratchy and somewhat uncomfortable to wear, unless you had a long sleeved garment underneath. This is why you might see a lot of people wearing multiple layers of long sleeved shirts or jackets, even though it might seem excessive!

90s synthetic fabrics tended to be scratchy and crinkly, and could actually cause skin irritation in some people if you were sweating a lot--Which is why you mostly see winter clothing made out of this stuff, they were intended to only be worn in layers. Most 90s jackets that used synthetic fabrics were shell jackets, meaning only the outer layer was synthetic and the lining was either polyester or cotton in most cases.

Popular department store brands were Tommy Hilfiger, United Colours of Benetton, Moschino, and Burberry.

Popular department stores were Dillards, Burdines, JC Penny, Macy's, and Bloomingdales.

Popular runways in 1994 were Alexander McQueen and Vivienne Westwood, which were partially influenced by 80s punk and the new Grunge trend.

Bucket hats for adults were starting to become more popular, but they were already popular in children's wear, so Kris could have a bucket hat!

Facial piercings were not common, although they were starting to get a little more popular around this time. Typically this was only a nose piercing-- Anything other than that would get you stared at and judged pretty harshly. Only subcultures like goths or punks had multiple facial piercings, or lip rings/eyebrow piercings, for the most part.

Tattoos were also less common, unless you were in a particular style subculture.

Belts were a very popular accessory, with large belts and belted coats being super popular. Thinner belts were often worn two at a time, or a thin belt with an extra long end left hanging down out of a beltloop. Most jeans were worn belted, with the shirt tucked in.

There was a fine line between fitted and baggy and just looking messy-- This is why belts were so popular, as it helped create more shaping to big coats and shirts. This became less of a thing as the bagginess went out of style, but for a while a lot of people wore belts out of habit, even after clothing trends switched over to being more fitted.

Flannel shirts became huge amongst all genders, and were typically tied at the waist and not buttoned or left fully open. Men would wear flannel shirts tied at the waist, with a solid block colour t-shirt underneath.

Graphic tees existed, but were not actually as popular as they are today; They were considered more of a kid/teenager thing. Band shirts were ever-popular, though! The print technology/quality at the time was a little rough, so expect any graphic tees to deteriorate quickly after a couple washes-- It was normal to see most letters/designs very patchy or flaking apart on graphic tees, which is part of why so few of them survive in vintage stores today unless they were printed in a more high end way.

Patterned fabrics were big as a statement piece, and not just for vests. A patterned shirt or jacket would be paired with block colours, and typically any accessories would be made out of the same patterned fabric so they'd match. For women's wear, headbands and scrunchies would be made to match a shirt or jacket. For men's wear, a belt would sometimes be made out of the same fabric as a patterned shirt.

Converse shoes remained ever-classic, and were one of the most popular sneaker/trainer brands. Nike was also super popular. Kris might have had some light-up Nikes, as they were a top item for kid's clothing. "Street shoes" in general were pretty popular as part of an athletic and every day look. High tops were the most popular, but platform sneakers started to get pretty popular, too.

Short shorts and baggy shorts!!! For all genders! This was the summer look of 1994, tank top and patterned shorts with a long sleeve t-shirt tied at the waist over top. Knee length baggy shorts in patterned fabrics were super popular. Short shorts were typically for the workout/jogging crowd, but were fairly popular outside of that during summers.

Knits were pretty popular, especially with synthetic wool and acrylic textiles becoming more common. Patterned sweaters/jumpers and chunky knits were among the top sellers, but this started to taper off a bit towards the mid-90s as it was a hold over trend from the late 80s. They still remained a commonly worn item, though.

In terms of sunglasses, funky tint lenses were starting to get popular, with blue, yellow, pink, and green tint lenses in bottlecap sunglasses or round lenses being a significant trend for a while. Round lenses for sunglasses were fashionable, but people also wore Ray Ban Aviators as a style classic. Smaller lenses were getting more and more popular in general, leading to oval glasses with wire frames becoming a common glasses frame style for both sunglasses and regular prescription wear. This was in contrast to the 80s, were large plastic chunky frames were popular.

The trend of making everything a little longer and baggier than it needed to be applied to most clothing items, including pants/trousers-- Jeans were often cut a little long, so rolling up the cuffs made a come back for a while, and yes, patterned baggy puffy trousers were popular for a couple seasons (although 1994 would have been near the end of that trend).

In terms of fine textured hair, feathered and fluffy hair was the goal, with volume being the biggest consideration for all genders. For black hair, Bantu knots got pretty popular for a while (you can see this reflected in some film/media well into the late 90s/early 2000s), and natural hairstyles were starting to make a big come back in contrast to the highly permed 80s.

For accessories, headbands, hats, and necklaces/bracelets were the big ones (as belts became less popular over time). Earrings tended to be plain hoops/studs or big chunky statement earrings, with very few options in between. Clip-on earrings were still really popular at this time. Fake small hoop earrings were also worn, instead of getting multiple ear piercings. For men, ties and scarves were the key accessories. Digital watches became popular accessories for all genders, and were part of both casual and professional wear.

Socks! White or black, almost always cotton. Sometimes white with a couple stripes at the top. Leg warmers were more of an 80s thing, although in some areas they were still worn in 1994, typically only as part of gym gear by this time but sometimes outside of that. Knee high socks started getting popular (especially paired with shorts or skirts), and socks in weird colours or patterns also started getting more popular, but they weren't super common and tended to be hard to find or more expensive. White socks with lace tops were popular among little girls and teens, whereas the sporty striped socks were more often found in men's departments.

Leggings as they exist today were not a thing outside of the gym, same with yoga pants-- Instead, it was just tights. Thick, relatively uncomfortable tights. These were usually office wear or for special occasions, or when someone felt like dressing nicely. The skin colour ones mostly went out of fashion for casual wear and were mostly for office attire; Thick black tights that you couldn't see through were the default for most casual outfits around this time. Some people still wore the skin colour ones for casual outfits, but the black ones were seen as more stylish for most of what was in style.

Colour palette: You had three main options -- Denim, Block Brights, and Earth Tones. There were of course other options, but these three are probably the most common. Pastels and block brights were especially popular for kids.

Makeup trended towards natural looks or Earth tones. Burgundy shades were popular lip colours, and browns were popular eyeshadows. If you wanted to look cutting edge, you went for metallic eyeshadows in blues, with a sharp orange-red lip colour-- But this was not an every day look! Blush was used, but sparingly, unless you were going out for an event. Subcultures had their own distinct makeup preferences, which did not generally permeate popular style guides. The modern internet makeup guru culture did not exist, and most people got their makeup advice from magazines, close friends, or TV shows. Avon makeup was popular, as was Clinique. Drug store brands included Eckerds, which was an affordable option if you couldn't go to a department store.

For perfumes, CK One and Tommy were among the most popular. Calvin Klein was a mainstay in perfumes, following the success of their perfume Obsession in 1985, which is a scent that most people will associate with that decade! A lot of people continued to use it well into the 90s.

This is all I can think of at the moment, but I wouldn't mind adding more if this was helpful or interesting for anyone! :)

[punkybrewstertoo]

A Mind to Tear a Soul in Two: Chapter Two

“What in the bloody hell is that racket?” Arthur asked, sitting at the table in the family’s house, head in his hands.

Tommy grimaced at the question. All day long he’d been desperately trying to ignore the noise coming from the first floor. “Leave it. She’s doing it on purpose. I told her to fix up the mess in her room, so she’s decided to push her bookcases across the hall, and rearrange everything — without help. She’s banging around up there trying to create as much noise as possible just to irritate me. So ignore her.”

Upstairs Charlotte had managed to get her three bookcases moved away from the walls and one of them halfway out Tommy’s bedroom door. Sweating and breathing heavily she told herself that she could do this. No brothers necessary. Tommy said he wanted her new room cleaned and tidied up, so she was taking this opportunity to go all in.

She didn’t like that he was forcing her to do it, but she knew it would be nice to have all her belongings in the right order. It also didn’t hurt that she knew all the noise was getting into Tommy’s head. He was trying to ignore all the stomping and scraping, but she could tell it was getting to him. Which made her endlessly happy. Especially given that Tommy was the reason that she was forced to switch bedrooms in the first place.

When the boys had gotten back from France it had taken Tommy all of six weeks to figure out that his kid sister was escaping in the middle of the night out the window in her bedroom at the back of the house to run around Birmingham. He had noticed her missing from bed late one night so he’d asked around to see what the girl was doing while she was suppose to be sleeping.

Their Uncle Charlie had given him a tip that she’d taken to showing up in the middle of the night to spend time with the horses. He’d told Tommy that he didn’t mind having his niece show up unannounced, out of all of the Shelby kids, she reminded him most of his sister. With her unkempt dirty blonde curls and freckles nose, the girl loved to run wild — just like his own little sister had. She was always sneaking around while nobody was looking, running in the field out where he let his horses graze. Occasionally she’d steal a horse from the stables, disappear for hours, return at nightfall to cool down the horse, and make it back home in time for supper.

Mischievous was an understatement.

But she was a light in the darkness. Always happy to lend a hand, she worked well with the horses — she worked well with anything he’d ask of her for that matter — and never worried about getting her hands dirty. And to top it all off, Curly loved having the girl around, often saying that she was blessed with the mind to speak to the beasts.

For years now Curly had been sweet on Charlotte, and she knew it. She’d go out of her way to spend time with him, making sure he was the first person she greeted and the last person she saw at the end of the day. She also knew this meant that Curly would never tattle on her to her aunt or brothers. Curly liked keeping her secret, it gave them a bond. He often said he knew it would be a good day if there was a Charlie girl sleeping with the horses in the morning.

But Charlie Strong had known that his nephews wouldn’t approve of his namesake sneaking out to his yard at night all on her own. He also knew that the horses weren’t her only late night destination. During the war he’d had no problem keeping his niece's secrets from her aunt, but since November things had started changing, and everyone knew it. He didn’t want to break her confidence, but he’d made a promise to his sister to keep her youngest out of harm's way, and with all the men coming back, Birmingham was not as safe as it once was.

Tommy had tried to put a stop to it immediately, but he’d caught her climbing back in through her window at dawn with hay in her hair twice. And the third time John found her with a group of friends at the Commons Dance Hall one night in December while she should’ve been locked up in her room, due to the aforementioned sneaking in.

Dragging her back to the house on Watery Lane, John had nearly woken up the entire street pounding on the door yelling for Tommy to come down and fetch her.

“John, I’ve got a key, you don’t need to go making Tommy come down to open the door. Just stop and let me open the damn thing.” Ignoring her, John held onto her elbow with one hand, and with the other continued pounding on the door.

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and looking up she saw Ada watching them through the window in her bedroom, laughing and shaking her head. Finally the door flew open and Tommy stood there furious, gun in hand, pointed directly at John.

Without flinching at the weapon in his face, John jerked Charlotte forward, practically flinging her at Tommy, “I think you’ve misplaced this. You know you’ve got to keep a closer eye on her, Tom.”

Sighing Tommy uncocked the gun, grabbed her by the neck, and growled out, “John, next time just open the bloody door yourself. Don’t make a scene and force me to come down for the show you’re putting on for the neighbours.” Looking around the street Charlotte could see a few faces poking out through their curtains, trying to see what all the commotion was about.

John nodded and walking up the street he shouted over his shoulder, “I thought she could do with the whole street knowing she’s about to get a beating.” Charlotte’s face flushed red, Tommy tightened his grip, and marched her upstairs.

At the sound of their approach Ada poked her head out of her door, “What’s going on–” Interrupting her Tommy ordered Ada to shut the door and go back to bed. Continuing her death march to her room, they reached the end of the hall and Charlotte tried to turn right. Instead, Tommy threw her into his room on the left and she stumbled as he shut the door behind them.

Puzzled at the change of scenery Charlotte straightened herself and began, “What are you–”

“Shut up and get into the fucking bed.”

Tommy turned his back on her, expecting her to obey, while he stoked the coal in the fire. He knew this would be a long night. Turning around he saw Charlotte still standing in place, the question about to pass her lips. He took a menacing step toward her, “I told you, get in the fucking bed.”

Still not moving, she chewed on her fingernails and slurred slightly, “But what about you sleeping?” She’d been drinking. He should’ve known. This kid was going to send him to an early grave. It wouldn’t be the the gambling, guns, or the war, it would be this damned sister; at least he’d die proving Polly wrong.

“After all that noise John made trying to embarrass you on the street, I’m not going back to sleep.” Then reaching out to grab her arm he took hold of her, threw her into bed, and in the same motion covered her with his quilt.

“Go to sleep. If you say one more word, I’ll drag you out back, throw a bucket of water on you, and beat the tar out of you for the whole neighbourhood to hear. You want that?” Shaking her head, Charlotte shut her eyes and pulled the quilt up to her chin.

Tommy turned on his heel and took a seat at his desk. The nightmares wouldn’t let him rest tonight, he might as well get some work done while he was keeping his truant sister from sneaking out and running wild. Picking up the book and going over a ledger he heard a small thump.

Looking up, Charlotte hadn’t moved her body, the quilt was still tucked at her chin, and her eyes were tightly closed. But she had managed to stick her feet out from the blanket and was using one foot to try to kick off the shoe still stubbornly attached to her other foot.

After a minute of her struggling to relieve herself of the shoe, Tommy walked over, grabbed her ankle and removed the shoe himself, “Stop messing around and fucking go to sleep.” As her two feet slowly slid back under the sheets, Charlotte buried her face in the pillow, and finally followed his orders.

Reaching down to grab the other shoe, Tommy noticed something curious. Something he’d previously missed in his blinded irritation at both John and Charlotte. These were heeled shoes. These were women’s shoes. These were absolutely not Charlotte’s shoes. “Ada...” Cursing her name he took the shoes and decided to return them to their rightful owner.

Opening the door to Ada’s room he found her sitting in a lounge chair by the fire. She startled at his entrance,

“Bloody hell, Tommy. It’s four in the morning.” Ignoring her protest at his intrusion he held up the shoes, “What are these, Ada?”

Smirking, she replied, “Looks like a fine pair of shoes, Tommy, but I doubt they’ll go with anything you have.” He threw the shoes on the floor. “Why was our sister wearing your shoes and a fancy dress? You don’t seem surprised or upset to find that she nicked something of yours. Why is that Ada?”

Damn. He knew she’d willingly given them to Charlie; there was no point in lying. If she was forthcoming on a little bit of the truth he’d likely not press her for the full story.

“Alright. I gave her the shoes. She said she was going out with some friends so I did her up nice. That’s what big sisters are supposed to do, Thomas!” Getting defensive she crossed her arms not wanting to rat her sister out any further. Tommy wasn’t having it.

“And the dress, Ada? What’s she doing that she needed to wear a dress?”

Was he really going to force this out of her? “That’s what girls wear! They wear dresses!”

Rolling his eyes Tommy responded, “This whole town knows that our sister doesn’t wear dresses. Don’t try to pull that shit with me. Is there a boy? Who is he?”

Ada laughed, “Trust me Tommy, the only boys in her life are the ones she’s handing out black eyes to over by the cut.” He glared at her, expecting more but she pointedly refused to answer.

“The secrets your keeping for her are going to get her hurt one day, Ada. This town isn’t safe for a girl out on her own. Ada scoffed at him, “Get out Tommy. I want to go to sleep. And don’t worry about our secrets, I think us Shelby girls can handle ourselves just fine.”

Giving her one final glare, Tommy left the room, intentionally leaving the door open, just to annoy her. Sighing, Ada got up and closed her door. She knew with Tommy awake she wouldn’t be making any early morning secret trips herself. Crossing her fingers she hoped that Charlie wouldn’t let Ada’s secret slip, or they’d both be in for it. Twenty two years old or thirteen, the Shelby sisters were under their brother’s thumb, and they needed to keep a tight lipped ship.

Tommy had stayed up all night checking his numbers, nodding off a time or two only to jolt awake at the sound of a pickaxe coming from the other side of the wall. At dawn he’d dragged Charlie out of bed, dealt a good old fashioned whipping, and set her to task switching rooms. She’d spent the whole day carrying books and shuffling clothes from one room to the other. As part of her punishment Tommy had forced her to move his belongings, as well as her own, threatening her with another thrashing if any of his possessions were to go missing or end up broken. She’d taken extra care to put all of Tommy’s things in their proper place.

Unable to take her frustration out on Tommy’s things she’d simply thrown her own belongings into her new space without much care. Her brothers hadn’t been available to help her to move any of the bookcases, so she was forced to leave them with Tommy. In the many months since the move it seemed like chaos reigned in the Shelby house, and none of them had had the time to help her with the cases, so her books remained strewn out on the floor.

Tommy had left one case for books, and she’d created a semi-organised system of piles that ranged from favourites closest to the bed, least favourites over in the corner by the wardrobe, and everything else in between. Other than putting her clothes into the wardrobe and fixing her bedding, Charlotte hadn’t spent any effort trying to make the room her own. But now that she was damned to live the rest of her life stuck in the room, she decided to take this opportunity to move her bookcases from Tommy’s room and make this new room her own.

Back downstairs, the sound of dragging furniture was driving Arthur up the wall. He couldn’t hear himself think with Charlotte throwing books around, moving her bed from one wall to the other, and attempting to push the furniture from the back room to her new room at the front of the house. After a loud thud, he’d had enough.

“That’s it.” Arthur growled, “John, come with me.”

Tommy watched while his brothers headed up the stairs. He’d have to hand it to his sister, she was following his rules and doing what was asked of her. And yet she still managed to find a way to give him hell.

Picking herself off the floor from where she’d tripped over a rug that got bunched during the rearranging, Charlotte heard the infantry coming. “Charlie! Enough with all the noise!” Arthur came stomping up the stairs with John right behind him.

“Alright, Lottie. What is it that needs to be moved? Let’s get this done before Arthur puts a pistol to his head.” Laughing Charlotte stuck her arm out, fingers in the shape of a gun and shot her brother, “Bang, you’re dead.” John threw himself up against the wall and slid down it, collapsing in a heap, tongue sticking out of his mouth.

Glaring at his brother’s dead body Arthur got straight to business, “Right. This big one here, this is moving?” John picked himself up off the ground and Charlotte nodded, “You mean this big one here? The one that I’ve already got half way out the door? Yeah, Arthur, this big one is moving.” Arthur smacked her upside the head and she continued, “And then the two other empty ones in the middle of Tommy’s room. Be careful not to trip over the rug. It’s caught underneath this case, I can’t get it straightened out.”

Sticking his head into her room Arthur looked around at the available space. She’d pushed all of her books up against the walls, but the place was still a wreck. “And where are you planning on putting three whole bookcases?”

Shrugging Charlotte responded, “Not sure yet. Just put them in the middle and I’ll figure it out later.”

“You know, Tommy told you to clean this place, not make it worse.”

She sighed, exasperated, “I’m working on it, Arthur. You're the one that came up here with demands, you gonna help me or not?”

Nodding his head Arthur agreed, “We’re gonna help you, but you’re going to decide where these bookcases are going now, not later. No more pushing these around on your own. You’re knocking pictures off the wall, and there’s dust falling in to Johnny boy’s tea cup.”

Rolling her eyes at his attempted joke Charlotte tried to argue, “But Arthur, I don’t know where I want–”

“Just do it. Tommy’s not the only one in charge around here. And hurry up, we ain’t got all day.”

Knowing she wasn’t going to win this fight, she grinned and gave in. “Alright, but only because you asked so very nicely.” Pointing around the room she quickly decided where the bookcases would go. Once her decision was made Arthur straightened up and started barking orders. “John, you grab that end there. From the bottom, not the middle. Charlie, clear out those stacks of books, throw them on the bed and push it out of the way. Then move that chair and we’ll bring in the other two.”

A quarter hour later and her brothers had made quick work of the furniture. Looking around the room, it gave the impression that a tornado had come through, but her bookcases were in place and ready to be filled.

“Well, you brutes did some good work here.” Charlotte smiled thanking her brothers for their help. “Any time Charlie girl. Just keep the noise down, yeah? The grown-ups have important work to do.” Kissing her on the head as he ran out of the room, Arthur ducked and barely missed a hardcover edition of Oliver Twist hitting his head.

Laughing at Arthur making his retreat, John picked up the book and handed it back to her. “You know, Tommy means it, right? If you can keep outta trouble he’s gonna let you in, you’ll be one of the grown-ups at the table. Just like Ada was. You just gotta keep your nose clean, Lottie.” Charlotte scoffed at him, “Just like Ada, John? I don’t think so. He’s never going to trust me like Ada. Aunt Pol won’t either.”

Turning to her largest bookcase she gently placed Oliver Twist on the shelf, subtly checking to make sure she hadn’t caused any damage when she threw it. “I’m just the troublemaker that runs wild. The girl in boys trousers. I’m not the responsible one. Tommy’s never going to see things any different. He might let me have a vote, but it won’t ever be like Ada.”

John shook his head disagreeing with her, “That’s not true, you just gotta behave long enough to prove yourself. Honestly, I think he’s got some plan for you that he’s not telling any of us about. You got brains, more than Ada ever had, and he’s noticed. But, if you keep getting drunk at the Commons and stealing from the pub, he’ll never take you seriously.”

Grumbling in response Charlotte started to explain, “I wasn’t there to get drunk, John. You dragged me off before I ever got a chance to explain...”

“It doesn’t matter what the explanation is, you keep disobeying him and you’ll be a prisoner here forever.” Charlotte signed in frustration, “I’m tired of being stuck in this room all the time. If I'm not in here, I'm in the shop. Or at school. Or with your kids. I never have any time alone anymore. I can't even go out with the horses anymore.”

“Well, you ain’t gonna be doing anything out in the fields with the horses if you don’t grow up. You’ll never get the chance. He’ll have this place locked down tighter than a communist in the King’s dungeon. Things are changing around–”

Interrupting Charlotte was exasperated, “You keep saying that! ‘Things are changing!’ ‘Things are going to be different!’ But I don’t know what any of that fucking means! One day this place is ransacked by a bunch of mushroom picking bastards and there’s a bomb in the car. The next you’re getting married to one of the Lee’s that tried to blow us up. One day I’m a gypsy orphan with a bunch of gangster brothers, and the next thing I know me own father shows up in the kitchen. But then Tommy kicks him out and doesn’t let me speak to him. Then there’s Ada... One day I got a sister, and the next day Polly’s trying to send her away with tickets to New York. Is that what 'things are changing' means, John? Is it?”

Standing in front of him, fists clenched, she finally took a breath. John’s only response was a raised eyebrow, a cocky grin, and an arrogant, “You feel better?”

Taking a breath she exhaled deeply, “God! You’re the worst.”

“No, I’m the best. You know I am. I know you better than those two idiots we call brothers, yeah?” Nodding at him she cracked a grin.

“Good, now that we both agree I’m the best, let’s both agree to ignore what you said about my wife’s family.” Laughing at him she crossed her arms and tossed herself into the stuffed chair sitting by the fire.

“Now listen, things are changing and I’m not at liberty to explain it to you, but you’ll be finding out soon enough. It’s not that Tommy doesn’t trust you, Lottie, it’s that he’s scared for you.” Charlotte rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to protest, but John continued on before she got a word out. “He’s scared for both you and Ada, why do you think he tried to get Ada and Freddie outta here?” She scoffed at him, “Because he’s an overbearing control freak that doesn’t trust anyone with an ounce of freedom or knowledge.”

John shook his head, ignoring her, “He’s torn, he wants to let you in. It’s a family business. But he lost Ada, he doesn’t want to lose you too. But you’re always acting before thinking, and that’s gonna get you hurt. Tommy and Aunt Pol, they keep arguing what to do with you. Pol wants you to keep clear of all of this, she thinks that’s the best way. Tommy’s not convinced. Because it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s that you’re the same, you and Tommy. He’s scared because he knows how your mind works. He knows that you’re inclined to go off without thinking, like you always do, because it’s what he woulda done at your age. The difference is, that Tommy had Freddy and me and Arthur by his side getting in trouble with him, keeping him from getting killed. You don’t have that. Which is what I’ve been telling Tommy about getting you more involved. If you were part of things then you would have us at your side. You’d be safer. You’d also be too busy with us to go stealing whisky and picking fights. But like I said, you gotta keep your nose clean before he’s really gonna start trusting ya.”

Charlotte sat in the silence, taking in what John had told her. “You telling me the truth? Was Tommy really just like me?” Rolling his eyes, John replied, “Christ, Lottie, is that the only thing you got outta all I just said?”

“Well? Was he?”

Sighing, John knew she wasn’t going to let up and it would be easier to give in and tell her what she wanted to know. God, she was just like Tommy.

Walking forward he took a seat in the chair that she’d stolen from Ada’s room. “Tommy told us about you wanting to know more about from before. He said that Aunt Pol told you to keep quiet and stop asking. I didn’t know that... I’m sorry she told ya to do that. I think it’s because she feels guilty about being gone when Ma passed. She was strung out with her kids being taken and didn’t have the right mind to deal with what was happening here.”

Shaking his head he pressed on, “I think that’s another story for a later time though. But as for you and Tommy... Right, well you woulda been too young to really remember, but Tommy was always sneaking out and spending time with Uncle Charlie’s horses. He’d be gone for whole days at a time. Ma never worried much, she’d give him hell when he walked in that door — if Da didn’t get to him first. But he did it often. He was great in school — much better than me or Arthur — but he never took the time to show up, because the fields and horses were more important. Then there was the drinking and dancing... He and Freddy were at the dance hall every other night picking up girls, getting drunk, and being rowdy. They both got kicked out a few times, even. Now the fighting, you got that from Arthur. Tommy never had to fight with Arthur by his side. If anything Tom had to make sure Arthur was behaving himself and not throwing any unnecessary punches. ” Laughing, Charlotte chimed in, “I can see that.”

“But can you see it, Lottie? The whole thing? He worries more about you than Ada because he knows your mind. He knows how unpredictable you can be. He might not know how to control you — he never had to control himself — but he knows you because he knows himself. You were too young to really know him before the war, but take my word for it, you’re the same. That’s why he’s so mad about you running around by yourself and sleeping in the stables. He’s mad because his kid sister turned out just like him, and he knows he’ll never find a way to make you stop. The only thing that kept him away was the war. And the war changed everything...”

John stopped himself from going any further in that direction, he didn’t want to get into war stories. Those were better off left for dead in the fields of France.

Taking advantage of the silence, Charlotte dug further, “But if the only thing that kept him away from the horses was the war, why’s he trying so hard to stop me?”

“Because Birmingham isn’t as safe as it was before. The men that came home aren’t the same as when they left. There’s nothing stopping one of them from having their way with any girl on the street.”

Cutting in Charlotte told him, “I can handle meself.”

Shaking his head at her confidence John continued, “There’s also this Inspector Campbell from Belfast that’s got us all watching our backs. He’s dangerous, and he’s got something against us. It’s like it’s personal between him and Tommy. And all that doesn’t even include the races.”

Confused at his last point, Charlotte asked, “But Tommy got the license. It’s all legal now. Isn’t it?” John’s reply was simple, “Mostly.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him. There was something else. Something he wasn’t saying. But before she could question him on it John started speaking again.

“He’s doing what he thinks is best to keep you safe. You’re our kid sister, it’s our job to keep you safe. With Ada off on her own now, he doesn’t want to lose another sister, so he’s doubling down on you. You might not be the same as Ada, but you’re his twin in mind and heart, Ada understands his soul. Ada understands all of us all like a puzzle. She knows exactly what each of us needs from her. She’s a mother through and though. But you, Lottie, you he loves more than any of us and he knows he can’t break you, so he’s keeping you locked up here until you can learn to behave.”

“If he knows he can’t break me, why does he go whipping me every time he catches me with the horses or running around town? If he knows that’s where my heart is, why's he always punishing me for it? You know, I’ve gotten beaten more times since you’ve been back than the entire time you were away for the war."

Laughing at her John explained, “He’s trying to get through to you the only way he knows how. Just be glad it’s not Da or Arthur taking that strap to your backside. Trust me, I know from experience, it could be worse. You both are just too stubborn to give in. Besides, it doesn’t seem like those whippings are doing you any harm.”

She shrugged, “Eh, It’s not that bad. I can take it just as good as any of you. It’s not as bad as when Aunt Pol got me. And really, I’d rather take a whipping than end up in here for another week.”

Standing up, John laughed at her, “You really are just like him. You’ll take a beating if it means getting what you want in the end. But could you hold off on causing any trouble for a little while? My Katie and Ethan have been asking for their Auntie Lottie to come read to them. They miss their story time. Get it together and stop disappointing my kids, you gypsy troublemaker.” Laughing at him, Charlotte watched as John made he was downstairs. “I’ll try. That’s the best I can do, brother.”

After John had made his exit downstairs, Charlotte sat in her chair by the fire thinking over what he had told her. She could see how her sneaking out and running around Birmingham was effecting Tommy. She didn’t like it, but his strangling hold on her made more sense now. She supposed that for the better of the family she could follow the rules and give Tommy a bit more control; or at the very least let him think that he’d been given more control. Maybe then he’d loosen up and let her have some wild moments.

Standing up to get back to her cleaning she clapped her hands together and told herself it was a done deal, she’d stop running off every chance she got. And maybe Tommy would give her some freedom back.

After a few hours of rearranging and moving stacks of books around, Charlotte’s room was starting to look presentable. At the very least you could see the floor again. Looking around she counted about twelve books that still needed a home off the floor. Then remembering that Tommy still had another ten books captive in his office, she realised that the only available space would be on top of the wardrobe. The shelves and bookcases were full, so the wardrobe would have to do. Unable to reach the top all on her own, she walked back into Tommy’s room, grabbed the desk chair he’d taken the day before and hauled it back to give her the height she needed to finish her cleaning.

Picking up her stuffed chair she set it right up against the wardrobe. She then put her desk chair on top to give her the extra height she needed to reach the top. Stepping into the stuffed chair she wobbled trying to step on to the desk chair. That wasn’t going to work. She needed something to hold onto so she wouldn’t fall over. Stepping down she pushed the chest of drawers to the stacked chairs and wedged the chairs between the drawers and the wardrobe. That was better. Pushing aside her mother's pitcher and water basin, as well as her framed family portrait, she placed the books within reach on the chest.

Stepping onto the stuffed chair she braced herself with the chest and gingerly climbed onto the wobbling desk chair. Looking up onto the top of the wardrobe Charlotte saw three small blue vials the size of her smallest finger. Curious, she grabbed one and popped the topper of the vial.

“Well, shit.” She muttered to herself. “Snow.”

She guessed Tommy had put them up there for safe keeping and forgot about them. She wondered how long they’d been up there. She wasn’t necessarily surprised by the discovery, she knew Tommy used an opium pipe to help him sleep, but she’d never seen him using cocaine. Not that he'd ever knowingly let her see him using. She'd only found out about the pipe after a particularly bad night when he'd woken up screaming his bloody head off.

After the boys returned from the war she’d heard Tommy shouting in the night, every night. Aunt Polly told her to leave him be, that war did strange things to men. But as the nights went on, Tommy’s nightmares got worse and worse. Sometimes Tommy would wake himself up and just start throwing things. Other times it sounded like he was about to punch his way through the walls from his room into Ada’s.

It scared them to the point that Ada had taken to sleeping in the back room with Charlotte — that was, when she was sleeping in the Shelby home and not somewhere else. Eventually the sisters had asked their aunt to come back and stay at the house, they were scared that he’d to something to hurt himself and they wouldn’t be able to help him.

Agreeing, Polly had managed to find excuses to stay the night for about a week before Tommy noticed and wanted to know what she was on about. Polly had taken him aside and told him that his sisters were worried about his nightmares and they were scared to be in the house alone with him. A few days after that the shouting lessened and he’d stopped throwing things. Polly had moved back to her flat and assured the girls that he had gotten himself some medication and they shouldn’t worry any longer.

But the night that she found Tommy screaming, she’d never get it out of her mind. It had been a particularly dry and clear night, not long after Christmas. Charlotte had stayed up waiting for the house to clear and Tommy to go to sleep so that she could slip out unnoticed. She’d planned to head over to Uncle Charlie’s yard to spend some time with her favourite horse, Annabelle. She hadn't been to visit in a week or so because of all the rain and she was growing impatient. The winter months were hard on everyone, horses included. With all the cold rain and mud, they weren’t put out to graze and Charlotte could feel them getting anxious stuck up in the stables all day. Hell, she was getting anxious stuck up in her house all day.

As the house grew quite and everything became still in the night, Charlotte pulled on her boots, grabbed her jacket, and stuffed the Webley revolver John had given her into her back pocket. She’d opened up the window and was about to make her way onto the roof of the kitchen below when she’d heard the shouting.

Pausing for a moment, she waited to see what the sound was. The shout came again. Sighing she realised that it was Tommy. It was just his nightmares. It had gotten better since Aunt Pol talked with him but it was still happening regularly, and she knew to just ignore him and leave him be. Sighing she continued her climb out the window, until she’d heard the gunshot.

The sound had sent her flying to the floor. Covering her head and breathing heavily she listened carefully. Not knowing if the shot had come from Tommy or from an intruder she crawled to her bedroom door, pressing her ear against it to listen for any sounds of a fight. Then she heard Tommy shout again, and another gunshot.

Panicked Charlotte knew that something was wrong. Reaching for her own gun she stood and opened her door. Walking carefully as to not make a noise, she raised the gun, arms outstretched continuing her path to Tommy. As she reached his door everything had gone silent again. No yelling. No more gunshots. Keeping her body pressed against the wall, gun still outstretched in front of her, she reached one hand out and grasped the doorknob. Readying herself for a fight, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

As the door swung wide, both Shelby’s moved simultaneously. Tommy’s head and gun shot up as Charlotte’s feet propelled her forward into his room. Everything happened before she could release her breath. She looked around not seeing anyone else as a final shot rang out.

Charlotte flinched as she felt the air move next to her. Then more shouting. Then the air was leaving her lungs as she was slammed against the wall. She tried to make sense of what was happening.

Her eyes were closed, and Tommy was yelling. Was he yelling? He ears were ringing. It was hard to tell. She felt hands on her face and she snapped her eyes open.

It was Tommy.

He looked panicked.

Funny.

Wasn’t she the one that was suppose to be panicked?

He had her pressed against the wall, his hands holding her face, and he was saying something.

Confusion was written across her features as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. There wasn’t anyone else here. It was Tommy shooting. It was Tommy that shot at her. Was she shot? Had her brother shot her?

Finally meeting his eyes, Tommy’s voice found its way to hear ears. “What were you thinking? What were you thinking? Charlotte?” His hands shook as he removed them from her face. Running his hand down her arms he grabbed her waist and pressed on her stomach.

“Where is it? Where did I get you? Where are you hurt?” He continued to manhandle her as she realised what he was doing. Trying to find her voice she whispered, “Stop. It’s ok. Stop.” Ignoring her and still searching for a wound she had to shout to get his attention, “Tommy! Stop! I’m ok. Stop. Look, right there. That’s where the bullet hit.”

Pointing to the wall next to her Tommy stood up and looked from her to the wall and back again. Shaking and sweating he started to speak again. “What were you doing? Why did you come in here? And where the fuck did you get this gun?”

Reaching down he snatched it from her hands and threw it on the floor. Grabbing her face again he leaned closer whispering to her, “What were you thinking, huh? Why were you running in here with a gun?” Shivering she tried to explain, “I thought there was someone here. I thought... I thought that you were hurt and–”

Cutting her off Tommy finished her sentence, “And you thought you’d help me. Is that it? You thought that someone had hurt me and instead of getting out of the house, you ran in here to help? You didn’t think that you’d get hurt too?”

His words reached her mind and she slowly nodded her head. Looking up at him she saw tears running down his face. She tried to take a breath only for a sob to escape and she realised her own tears had made an appearance.

Pulling her into his chest Tommy tried to lecture her, “You can’t to that Charlie. You can’t come running in here like that. You gotta think about these things.”

His admonishment made her cry harder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wanted to help. I didn’t know.”

They stood silent, Tommy holding onto her for a minute or two before he took a breath and walked her to his bed. Sitting her on the edge he knelt in front of her. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry for the yelling and the shooting. I'm trying to make it better. I didn’t realise it was you. Do you understand that? I didn’t know it was you. I didn't mean to shoot at you.”

Nodding at him, he continued, “You can’t do that again. You can’t come in here if I’m yelling, ok? It’s not safe.”

Looking back at him, Charlotte responded. “But I thought you were in trouble.”

Taking her hands in his, he tightened his grip. “I know Charlie, I know. But you can’t do that. If you hear gunshots, you run in the other direction, ok? You run. Go get John or Arthur. But don’t you try to help.” Feeling dejected she agreed, “Yeah. Ok. I got it.”

“Good. Now where’d you get that gun? Do you even know how to use it?” As he walked over to where he’d thrown it on the ground she tried to explain, “John gave it to me. Maybe the day after you got off the train. He said it was for emergencies. I don’t know why it’s a big deal... You all have them. Even Ada has one.”

Walking back to her with the revolver Tommy opened the cylinder and paused. “Charlie, there’s one bullet in here. You didn’t think to check for bullets?”

Embarrassed, she shook her head and looked the other way. Sitting down on the bed next to her he emptied the bullet into his hand and passed the gun back to her. “Right, well. How about tomorrow I show you how to use this thing? We can go out to the field and shoot some bottles. You gotta learn before you go pointing that thing at people.” Taking the bullet he opened the drawer on his bedside table and dropped it inside. He then picked up the pipe and tin cramming them in there as well.

“What’s that Tom?” Not looking at her he explained, “That’s to help me sleep, Charlie girl. Now why don’t you go do that yourself, eh?” Pointing out the door he added, “In your bed, not in the stables.”

Groaning at him she asked, “Well, if I can’t go to the horses, can I stay here with you? I’ll read and be quiet, I promise.” Agreeing, he stood up and headed to the door, “Sure you can. But I’m going to put the kettle on. You want a cup?” She nodded and heading down the stairs he called to her, “Get those muddy boots off the bed, Charlie.” Groaning she walked back to her room, rid herself of the boots and found a book to help her fall asleep.

That night Charlotte had fallen asleep in Tommy’s bed with a book in her hands before he ever made it back upstairs with their tea. Putting her cup of tea on his table, and pulling her book from her hands he sat down next to her on top of the blanket, his back resting against the bed frame. Looking at her book in his hands he read the title, ‘Dubliners’. Well, it looked like James Joyce would be keeping him company tonight. He didn’t trust himself to fall asleep with her in the room. For fuck’s sake, he’d nearly shot her tonight. He needed to be more careful. No more loaded guns under his pillow. In the morning he’d double check that she was alright, and make sure she promised to never bring this up to anyone else, ever. This needed to stay between them.

Thinking back on what was probably the worst night of her life, Charlotte put the stopper back on the vial and put it back where she’d found it. It felt a little like a trap to her. If Tommy remembered the vials and went to retrieve them and they weren’t there, he’d think she’d used it and she’d be in for it. Her brothers rarely let her drink whisky, snow was definitely out of the question. But she also knew that if she handed them over, they’d likely end up in Arthur’s hands, and months ago Polly had enlisted her help in keeping the stuff away from him.

She’d read in the papers that the government was working on a new law to ban certain drugs throughout all of England, and cocaine was at the top of their list. She was just going to pretend like she’d never found the vials. Putting them back where they were she decided to forget about it and move along. Nothing to see here.

Getting back to her business she reached behind her, holding onto the top ledge of the wardrobe, to grab her stack of books. She grumbled to herself as her fingertips just barely grazed the top of the stack. Damn. She could barely touch the very top book, she wasn’t going to reach the entire stack unless her arm grew about six inches in the next six seconds.

Trying not to abandon all hope she slowly shifted her feet so she was standing to the side and could more easily see and reach the books. She gently bent her knees trying to maintain her balance as the stacked chairs wobbled underneath her. Reaching over a little farther she tried to get a grasp on the books. As her hand made contact with the top book, her fingers holding purchase to the wardrobe ledge slipped, and she felt the full force of her weight falling into the chest of drawers.

As the chairs collapsed and the room tilted out from underneath her she made a small squeaking yelp before the chest crashed over and she followed after. She heard something shatter and felt a sharp pain before her head hit the ground and everything went black.

Down in the shop, the head of the men milling about jerked upward as they heard a crash followed by a thud that actually did shake the walls. Arthur, his irritation growing at the continuation of her noise after his assistance, nearly shouted, “I’m gonna kill her if she does that one more time.”

Shushing her nephew Polly stepped in to calm his nerves, “Don’t worry. I’ll go upstairs and see what she’s doing and if she needs more help.” Placing her cup of tea on his desk Polly marched up the stairs calling her nieces name, “Charlotte! Charlie? What in the bloody hell are you doing up here?” Reaching the end of the hall she turned into Charlotte’s room and froze. “Holy Jesus...”

Charlotte lay in the middle of the room a puddle of blood beginning to form near her leg. She was unconscious and her shoulder looked to be at an odd angle. Polly turned, walking briskly back to the top of the stairs and trying to keep her voice calm as to not cause any chaos she called down, “John! I need you upstairs for a moment. Quickly.”

She herself turned and ran back to Charlotte. She fell to the ground beside her niece, and picking up her head to place it in her lap Polly simultaneously checked the girl’s breathing. Polly sighed in relief and tried tapping Charlotte’s cheek hoping to wake her up.

Making his way up the stairs Polly heard John's voice, “Alright ladies, what is it this time?” Walking into the room he too froze, silent. Polly began to give him instructions while he stood in shock at the sight before him.

“Go fetch you wife, John. Go get Esme. She told me she had some nurses training while Ada was giving birth. Go get her. Look at me, John. Look at me. Walk downstairs calmly. And don’t you dare run until the shop door is closed. Not a person down there needs to be panicked at this sight just yet, and we sure as hell don’t need to go running off any bets. Now, go! John! Go get your wife!” Her firm voice snapped him back to reality, and nodding at her instructions he left.

Stoically John walked back down the stairs, through the shop, and to the door. In the back of his mind he knew Arthur was calling for him, but he kept moving. He ignored his oldest brother and just as Polly said to, he calmly shut the door before letting out a breath and running down the block shouting for Esme.

As Polly examined Charlotte’s injuries she discovered a bleed at the back of her head, her shoulder was definitely dislocated, and the pooling blood was coming from a large shard of ceramic lodged into the girl’s leg. Looking around the room she saw two chairs on their sides; one desk chair and one stuffed lounge chair. Charlotte’s chest of drawers had fallen face down, the pitcher and basin that had once sat atop it shattered in pieces on the ground next to the glass that had once belonged to the frame holding their family portrait. Looking down at her nieces face nestled in her lap she muttered, “Bloody hell. What were you up to?”

Back downstairs the door to the betting shop flew open and John ran in, breathing heavily and holding Esme’s hand. Polly had told him to keep calm, but to hell with that. John rushed Esme up the stairs and into the same room he had just exited not five minutes earlier. Upon arriving at the mess of books, glass, and blood Esme got to work examining Charlotte and talking to Polly. Standing and staring, waiting for instructions from Esme he startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“What in the fuck happened here?” Arthur shouted, fear audible in his voice. Polly raised her head to the men standing in the doorway. “Keep it down. This is family business and none of the men downstairs placing bets needs to know that something is amiss up here.” Both brothers nodded, agreeing with their aunt’s assessment. Finally concluding her assessment of their sister Esme turned and spoke to the brothers, “Which one of you can put a shoulder back into place?” Arthur, stepped forward, “That’d be me. I can do it.”

As Arthur walked forward Charlotte began to cough, eyes fluttering open. There was a sigh of relief from the room and Charlotte looked around and muttered, “Fuck.” She tried to sit up and Esme held her down, “No. No. Don’t do that. Lay still.”

Ever the stubborn one, Charlotte became indignant, “Wait for what? Just lemme up.” Turning around, Esme called to John, “Come here and help. John you’ll need to hold her while Arthur does the job.” Still confused and trying to sit up Charlotte became concerned as the boys walked toward her, “Wait. Wait. Hold on just a minute. Just hold on a fucking minute.”

Turning to Esme she questioned, “Why’s he got to hold me? And what’s Arthur about to do?” John and Arthur looked to one another and continued walking toward her without speaking. Getting up, Polly switched places with John and he hoisted Charlotte into a sitting position.

Heading for the door Polly announced, “I’m going to go get some rags and whisky, I think we’ll need it.” Calling after her, Esme added, “And bowls for water... And a sewing kit!” Settling in so that Charlotte’s back rested against his chest John started to explain what was about to happen. “You just gotta hold still Lottie. Esme knows what she’s doing and she says Arthur’s gotta put that shoulder back into place. So just hold still and then we’ll get that chunk of glass outta your leg.”

Trying to put on a brave face Charlotte tried, unsuccessfully, not to panic. “Just hold on. Just lemme breathe a second, ok? You all need to wait.” Leaning forward Arthur reached out to grab ahold of Charlotte’s left shoulder and elbow. “It’s gotta be done now, Charlie. The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be. Just take a breath. It’s not gonna hurt that bad. I bet that piece of pitcher sticking outta your leg there hurts a lot worse.”

Staring back at Arthur Charlotte asked, “Do you even know what you’re doing? I mean, how many times–”

Charlotte’s line of questioning was cut short as Arthur tightened his grip, locked eyes with John, and jerked her shoulder up and into place. The room went silent for exactly three seconds as Charlotte opened her mouth to scream.

Air escaped her lungs, but no noise came.

Closing her eyes and finally inhaling she released a scream that nearly shattered the windows.

Wincing and trying to cover his ears Arthur said flatly, “Well, there goes Polly’s plan to keep this family business.”

Another three seconds passed and opening her eyes wide Charlotte found her words, “Fuck you, Arthur Shelby! You fucking liar. Fuck you! It’s not gonna hurt?” Holding up his hands in defence Arthur backed away as Charlotte flung her leg up, trying to kick him. Unsuccessful, she tried again and continued to yell. “Get back over here. Lemme show you how much it’s not gonna hurt, you son of a bitch.”

Heading toward the door Arthur announced that his work here was done and he had to be somewhere to be. Yelling at his retreat, Charlotte continued, “Where you going, Arthur? Come back here, it’s not gonna hurt, I promise.” Trying not to laugh John kept hold on his sister, “Lottie, calm down! You got a whole pitcher stuck in your leg there and you’re gonna bleed out if you don’t stop thrashing around.”

Kneeling down and pressing her hands on either side of the ceramic sticking out of Charlotte’s leg, Esme came to his aid, “Charlie, you really need to stop moving, you’re making it worse.” Charlotte immediately stopped moving and looked down at her leg. It was as if she was seeing the damage there for the first time. The blood drained from her face and she leaned back into him once more, “Shit, that looks bad.” Rolling his eyes John responded, “You’re not wrong there.”

Tommy had decided to move his work into his office after his aunt and both brothers had abandoned him to head upstairs. He tried to ignore John’s leaving, then returning with Esme. He was busy. Whatever it was, Polly could handle it. Opening up his journal, he got to work. Minutes later he looked up as Polly made her way back down the stairs and into the family’s house. He tried to catch her eye, but she pointedly refused to acknowledge him.

Closing the book he sighed, stood, and went to follow her. “Polly? What’s wrong? You look stressed.” Digging around in the pantry and pulling out some towels she replied, “It’s fine, Thomas. Go back to your work. I’ve got this under control.” Not quite convinced he pressed her further, “Are you sure Pol? What’s Esme doing up there? And what the fuck are you looking for in there?” Responding without answering his questions Polly asked, “Where’s the whisky?” Rolling his eyes Tommy decided that two could play this game.

“What’s going on upstairs, Polly? Is there something wrong?” Polly continued to ignore him and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing her by the arm he forced her to stop what she was doing and look at him. “Fucking answer me. What is going–”

He was cut short by a raging scream that could've risen the dead. Polly’s eyes went wide as Tommy locked his eyes on hers. Raising his eyebrows, he waited for an explanation.

“Right. Well, that was probably Arthur putting her shoulder back in place.” His own eyes grew wide at her explanation. Before he could get a word out Polly was back to digging around under the kitchen sink. “We need a bottle of whiskey and a sewing kit. Wait, no. Make that two bottles. Here, take these, and grab those towels.”

Handing him two bowls she pointed to the towels sitting on the table. Still paying him no mind she walked into the front room and returned with a sewing basket. Looking to him she asked, “Well, where’s the whisky?” Nodding his head, Tommy moved in the direction of his office.

As he headed toward his office he heard Polly shouting, “What in the fuck do you all think you’re looking at? Eh?” Looking up Tommy finally realised that all movement, conversation, and betting had stopped inside the shop. There were about 20 men standing still, all watching them intently.

Moving to him Polly took the dishes and rags out of his arms and started up the stairs, “Get everyone out of here Tommy. Close up shop, and we’ll deal with business tomorrow. Grab that whisky and get your ass upstairs.”

Turning to his audience he announced, “Alright lads, you heard the lady, finish your business and make your way home. The shop is closing.” Walking into his off for the bottles of whisky, Scudboat followed in after him. “What’s going on Tom? We all heard that scream a few minutes ago. Nobody’s said a word since and they’ve all been standing there watching Polly.”

Grabbing two bottles from his desk drawer he responded, “If you’d believe it, I have absolutely no idea what is going on up there. But it looks like Polly’s on a path, and it’s best to either get on board or get outta the way. I’m already on board, mate. You best be moving along.” Scudboat laughed, “You want me to lock up?”

Nodding at him Tommy instructed, “Check all the doors in both houses, we don’t need anybody robbing us blind.” Grabbing his keys, Scudboat moved to follow orders and Tommy made his way up the stairs, passing Arthur on the way out. “Where you going?” Without looking back, Arthur responded, “I did me part up there, I got a meeting across town.” Tommy knew it was their father. Arthur was meeting with that son of a bitch, and he knew the man would end up disappointing his brother. Putting it out of his mind Tommy continued his way upstairs. There were clearly more important things at hand.

[live-love-be-unique]

Eyes - When walking home from work, you cant help but feel like you’re being watched…

A little part 2 to the Eyes prompt I wrote for @lesservillain Strange and Spooky Stories prompt

Once you’d left the emergency room, explaining to the doctors that Steve’s broken nose was simply the result of a bit of roughhousing, you crammed into Eddie’s van as he sped back to his trailer. Steve’s nose heavily bandaged as he scowled at you the whole way there, you smugly reminded him that he deserved it.

When the three of you had gotten inside, Eddie had told you what he had seen and you had revealed that you had seen the same thing.

“I thought it was one of you two?” You’d asked, believing, or more rather hoping, it was part of the prank the two boys had played on you. It wasn’t.

“We have to find it” Eddie had made up his mind almost immediately, wanting to track down this creature and make his own horror movie or sell the pictures to some tabloid for money.

“We’re not the damn Scooby Gang, Eddie!” Steve shouted.

“Hey man, you didn’t see it! It was huge!” Eddie’s voice shook as he rounded on Steve. You didn’t blame him, now that you knew the boys had nothing to do with it, that mysterious creature had freaked you out too.

“Guys, guys! Stop!” You stood up from your seat on the couch in the Munson trailer, standing between the arguing boys, shoving them apart.

It took the better part of two hours before Eddie had convinced you that trudging around Hawkins at midnight in the dead of winter to find some mysterious creature was a good idea. We’ll sell the pictures to the papers he’d said we’ll get rich!

Steve had borrowed his dad’s fancy camera and the three of you made your way to the alley where you had first spotted this creature.

That’s when the two boys decided you’d be the best bait. If you made it out of this alive, they were dead men.

You sat shivering on a bench near the opening of the alleyway; you’d borrowed Eddie’s leather jacket but it offered little protection against the icy midnight air.

…And nothing happened.

Resigning yourself to the fact that your boyfriend was a total butthead and so were you and Steve for agreeing to this, you stood from the bench and started to make your way towards Eddie’s van.

And then you heard it.

A deep, guttural, snarling growl coming from right behind you.

“Ed..Eddie?” You stuttered, not daring yourself to turn around. Please be another one of his pranks, you pray silently.

Gulping, you slowly turn towards the sound only to be met with a large solid black mass and two glowing red eyes. The beast looked even larger than earlier. You froze and did the only thing that your body seemed capable of.

You screamed.

Eddie and Steve raced around the corner “shit!” Steve shouted; dropping the camera, the flash going off.

Eddie grabbed hold of your jacket sleeve and yanked you towards him as the dark, snarling mass advanced towards you.

It took the three of you less then a second to decide you were not cut out to be monster hunters, the Scooby Gang you were not. You ran towards the old Chevy van, the sound of claws scratching pavement behind you. It was following you

“Open the door, Eddie!” You scream

“It’s gaining on us!” Steve tripped, scrambling back to his feet at the side of the van

The growling turned to roaring as a pair of headlights and red and blue police lights flashed behind you “What the hell are you idiots doing?” Hopper said, getting out of the car “I’ve had six complaint calls about you three screaming all hours of the night. Get home!”

Hopper got back into the patrol car, grumbling about idiot kids doing stupid shit and drove off. The three of you huddled together, Eddie’s arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you to his chest as you shone your flashlights into the darkness. The lights must have scared the beast away.

You took Hopper’s advice quickly, having had quite enough of monster hunting for the rest of your life, vowing never to listen to any of your boyfriend's bright ideas ever again.

Two days later, Steve frantically called both you and Eddie to meet him at the mall. Hopper had given him his dads camera back and you just had to see this.

He explained; as Eddie stole some fries from your plate, the camera hit the pavement that night and it had taken just one photo.

…a photo of a snarling beast, teeth bared with glowing red eyes.

[p-artsypants]

Paint it Black (2) Observing

Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City's crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a correlation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself?

Ao3

"So?" Beast Boy asked, a grin on his features.

"I met him. He seems...strange. I wonder if there is something wrong with him."

"Of course there is!" Beast Boy shouted. "The kid's living a delusion! He's totally Schizophrenic! He’s 9th level crazy banana-pants bonkers!"

"Where's your degree in Psychology?" Cyborg asked.

Raven chimed in. "I couldn’t read his mind when I saw him. He's too...random?"

"Random? More like utterly out of control! He must have gotten brain damage or something!"

"Like you?" Raven quipped.

Beast Boy didn't skip a beat. "I don't doubt I have brain damage from all the fights I've been in, but there's no way you can compare us."

"I will agree and say that Black is very strange. I am concerned for him though." Starfire added.

"He told me he was homeless," said Raven. 

“I saw him take money from a drug dealer he took out.” Cyborg scratched his chin. “So he’s not panhandling.”  

“What do we do? Mention him to the police?” Starfire asked.

“Let’s just…keep an eye out for him. Maybe he’s a friendly neighborhood weirdo, or maybe he’s a problem.” 

—-

It continued like that for the weeks following. Each Titan would take turns performing patrol at night, while the usual super villains would crop up randomly in between. Nearly every night, for maybe only a few minutes, they would cross paths with the young man known as Black. Each time, they would try to weasel more information out of him, but more often than not, he left them with more questions. 

“Cyborg! Thank god! I need help!” A young man came running up to him. He looked rather roughed up and had a black eye. 

“What’s up, man?”

“I know we were wrong. My friends and I tried to shoplift from the Quick Mart, but then my buddy tried to actually mug a customer. It was so wrong and I know that but the dude went ape shit and just started beating the hell out of us! I’m the only one that got away! Please Cyborg, my brother’s back there and I think he’s gonna get killed.” 

“Alright alright, I got you man, take me there.” 

The young man ran back the way he came, Cyborg hot on his trail. The Quick Mart was just around the corner. The windows were plastered with posters and neon signs, so much so, the inside couldn’t be seen. 

“Wait here,��� Cyborg demanded, and headed for the door. 

Whatever supervillain he was expecting to see, he didn’t see them. Instead, Black sat on the counter, nonchalantly eating a pint of ice cream. 

There were four unconscious young men on the ground, and the cashier was crying behind the counter. 

“Aww man,” Cyborg groaned, looking at the carnage. 

“Hey! Borgy-Boy! Want some Chunky Monkey?” Black held out his spoon.

“Man, what did you do?”

“Can you believe these Ding Dongs tried to mug me? I only have so much money to spend on food, and they’re trying to take it!”

Cyborg gave him a hard look. “What about all that money you’ve taken from the people you bust?”

“Hey!” Black pointed his spoon at him. “Most of that money went into the offering plate on Sunday!” 

Cyborg stared back in shock. “You go to church?”

“Sure! Free coffee, free music, free air conditioning and heat, it's a swell deal! I don’t really know what they’re talkin’ ‘bout, but that Jesus guy sounds like a real neat fella!”

Cyborg shook his head. Black had a talent for derailing situations quickly. “What did I tell you about beating people up?”

Black whined. “But mooooommmmm! They started it!” 

“I called the police,” the cashier finally sobbed out. “They’ll be here at any moment.”

“Whoops! Looks like I gotta vámonos!”

“Did you pay for the ice cream?” Cyborg asked sternly. 

“YeEEEeeeeEEEs!” Black sassed right back. 

“Good, then you’re ready to wait for the police with me.” 

Black’s attitude changed slightly then. He paled and his lips became taught. “Nah, I’m good.”

“What if I tell you you have to?”

Then Black’s face fell, a much darker, hateful gaze on his face. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. Not anymore.” 

“Anymore?” Cyborg took a step toward him.

Black launched from the counter, springboarded off Cyborg’s shoulders and landed at the exit. “Bye Borgy-Boy! Love you!” And he was gone.

“Damnit!” Cyborg shouted to the ceiling. 

—-

“Okay, I think he’s a problem,” Cyborg announced without preamble. 

Starfire, Beast Boy, and Raven all looked at him startled. 

“Who?”

“Black! Who else!? He beat up a bunch of shoplifters at the Quick Mart and then dipped when I told him to stay for the police. Why would he run if he had nothing to hide?”

Raven raised a brow. “So you want us to capture him? Take him down? Yeah, we all know what he’s doing is illegal, but he’s doing us a huge favor. We don’t have time to worry about the little guys.” 

“What if we were to just observe him more? Mayhaps this is a temporary thing?”

“Temporary insanity? I’d love to hear that argument.” Beast Boy chuckled. 

“Fine, another week or two of observation. Then we have to decide what we’re going to do about him.” 

—

During Raven’s patrol, she got to have her own fun with a jewelry store break in. She passed by the roof just as the burglar’s broke through the window. 

Thinking that was all the action she was going to see on her patrol, she began to return home, only to be distracted by someone singing. 

Well, it was more like caterwauling. 

“I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT!” 

It was a crime to be singing so poorly and so loudly so late at night. A crime to Raven, at least. All this required was a stern talking too. 

Raven followed the sour notes down a backstreet and into the warehouse district. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Raven drawled. 

Black was still singing at the top of his lungs, and sort of dancing down the alley. In both hands, he held cans of spray paint, and he was spraying the walls. 

Raven landed behind him. 

“I’M TRAPPED IN THIS BODY–CAN’T—GET OUT!!!”

“Vandalizing private property? Some hero you are.” 

“AH!” Black startled, whipped around and sprayed Raven in the face with red paint. 

Luckily she clenched her eyes shut so she wasn’t blinded. 

“Oh! Mrs. Magpie! I’m sorry, you startled me!” 

Raven tried to wipe the paint from her face. “So I noticed.” 

Black took out a rag from his pocket and started rubbing her face before she batted him away. 

He slunk back, defeated. “And to answer your question, I wasn’t trying to vandalize this wall. Someone else already did that. I was just trying to make it…less Hitler-y.” 

Raven looked at the wall. On half were some interesting black and red swirls, still wet, and the other half had about a dozen swastikas punctuated with profanity. 

“I see. You were covering it up.”

“Yeppers! Are you proud of me, Rae Rae?” 

The last thing she wanted to do was indulge this lunatic. “You know, if you talked to the owner, he’d probably give you some paint to cover the whole wall in an even coat.” 

He scoffed. “There’s no art in that!” 

“Oh, so now you’re an artist?”

“Am I not allowed to have a hobby?” 

She huffed. “Fair.” 

“I’ll take it more seriously. I’ll practice and make it really good! A series of pretty alleyways by me!” 

Raven was out of shits to give. “Fine. Go ahead. Wow me with your murals.” 

Black grinned gleefully and jumped. “You won’t regret it!” 

“See that I won’t.” 

“Oh,” he licked his thumb. “You have a little paint—“ 

She summoned a force field to stop him from getting any closer. “Don’t even think about it.” 

—-

Usually, Black had a tendency to seek out the Titans, or let his presence be known. So when Beast Boy found the young man digging through a dumpster, he quickly changed into a mouse to watch from afar. 

“In the deepest ocean, the bottom of the sea, your eyes, they turn me,” Black sang a tune Beast Boy swear he heard before, but couldn’t place it. 

Beast Boy scurried across the ground, coming closer. 

Black was bent over at the waist, his torso inside the dumpster, and his singing echoed with a metallic ring. “I get eaten by the worms and weird fishes. Picked over by the worms…and weird fishes.” 

Where had he heard that before? The radio? He was usually pretty hip with modern music.  

“Ah ha!” Black cried triumphantly as he emerged. He had a prize in his hand. 

Beast Boy eagerly waited to see what Black had found and was so excited about. 

Another watch. 

The young man cinched it on his wrist, so quickly, it looked like he’d done it a hundred times before. “You don’t have a battery, but that’s okay. I still love you.” 

A dead watch. What was so exciting about a dead watch?

Black then rubbed his stomach. “Hmm…me hungy!” And he turned and left the alley. 

Beast Boy waited until he rounded the corner to turn into a sparrow and followed him. 

Black skipped down the street, his tattered trench coat fluttering behind him. 

Coming down the street was a dog walker, a man with a husky. Black saw them and ran to them. “Ohhh! A puppy! What’s his name? Can I pet?!”

The man looked startled, but ultimately said, “uh sure. His name is Plinko.” 

“Hi puppy! Hi Plinko! Who’s a good boy?! Who would rip someone’s face off to protect his owner!? My name is Black. What’s your name?”

The man looked even more startled and started to tug his dog away. “Sorry, I have to go.” 

“Okie dokie then! Bye bye Plinko! Bye bye Plinko’s dad!” Black waved enthusiastically. Then he continued his merry way down the street. 

Beast Boy watched in fascination, and prepared to intervene if Black showed any kind of threat towards the man. Thankfully, he didn’t, just behaved oddly enough to frighten the man off. 

Black broke into a sprint, running at a wall. When he reached it, he used a fire escape to climb up the side of a building, then leapt onto a short roof. From there, he cartwheeled and flipped to the other edge and jumped over to the next roof. 

He was fast. Beast Boy had to morph into an Eagle to keep up with him. He was used to seeing kids parkour, and the hobby had become more popular over the years the more stunts of Robin’s had been captured on camera. But Beast Boy had never seen someone move like this. It was almost inhuman. Black flung himself across distances anyone else with self preservation would have avoided. He flipped and twisted as he went, ignoring laws of physics. 

Then, they were at the Quick Mart, and he strolled in like he hadn’t been performing gymnastics across the rooftops. 

Beast Boy quickly shifted into a fly and flew in before the door shut. This was kind of fun. He didn’t get to do stealth missions often. 

“Hi Laura!” Black chirped. 

“Oh. Hi Black.” The cashier looked nervous and swallowed thickly. 

“Got anything fresh? How old is the pizza? Is it all dried out like jerky?”

“I just put a new pie in,” she said with a sigh. 

“Then I want a slice! Not one with pepperoni’s though.” He shivered.

She gave him a solemn nod and cut him a slice of cheese pizza. 

“Hey chicky-poo, why are you nervous?” He asked as he grabbed a drink from the fridge. Just a water. 

“We’re not going to have any problems today, are we?” She asked sternly, but looked pale and nauseous.

“Problems? Me?! You know I’m here to solve problems, right?!” 

The cashier didn’t answer. 

Black placed his hands on his hips. “Is this about those shoplifters earlier this week? Did Borgy-Boy or the Popo give you a hard time?”

She took a shaky breath. “They were fine. I just…what you did to those boys.” 

He scoffed. “What's a couple broken fingers and fractured skulls among friends?”

“Um…I can’t imagine those guys think you’re friends…”

“Well, then they’re doodoo heads. How much for the water and the pizza? Ohh and this candy bar?”

“7.83.” 

“Oh. No candy bar then.” He pouted. 

“5.70.”

Black dug around in his pockets and took out some bills and coins. “Is that enough?”

“This is a button.” 

“Oh. How much is that worth?”

The cashier sighed and helped him count out the money on the counter. Beast Boy prepared to intervene if he didn’t have enough, but thankfully, he did. 

“And, you had a little extra, so you get a nickel back.” She handed him a coin. 

He grinned. “I think I like them! Most people don’t, but that’s okay. Not everyone has to agree!” 

“What?”

“Nickleback! They do the song from Shrek!”

“Honey, that’s Smash Mouth.”   

Black sighed. “I can’t count change and I can’t remember Nickleback’s discography. Is there anything I can do right?”

Break bones, apparently, thought Beast Boy. 

“Well, you do the crime fighting thing pretty well. Maybe once you get your memory back, you’ll be able to do other things.”

Black’s face soured. “No no, I’m going to learn new things, not remember old ones.” He took on a far off look. “I don’t want to remember the old things.”

“Oh…kay…” Laura said, leaning away from the counter. 

Black brightened considerably. “Thanks for the pizza! See you around Laura!” Then he looked to the wall, right at Beast Boy. “See you around, Jolly Green!” 

Beast Boy shifted back into a human, falling off the wall and startling Laura. “Duuuude! How did you know?!” 

“Come on, how often do you see a green fly?”

“Often?! How–!?” 

Black tsked. “You gotta be better than that, Beastie Boy! Ch-check, check it out! Wh-what what’s it all about!?” He started rapping Beastie Boy lyrics and he nonchalantly strolled out the door. 

Beast Boy stood still, staring open mouthed. 

“I had no idea you were there,” said Laura. “That kid is something else.” 

“Yeah, but what?”

—

Cyborg arrived from the lobby, the huge box with him full. He dumped out the contents, letters, on the table and started to sort. 

“What’s all that?” Asked Raven. 

“Mail. It’s been sitting out there for a while and I just can’t put it off anymore.” 

“Tired of all the condolence cards?”

“Very.” 

“Anything for me?” Beast Boy asked, peering over the table. 

“You can help me sort, and then you’ll know.” Cyborg threw a bunch of flyers away. “Man, I bet some of these are a month old. Hope none of it was time sensitive.” 

“Oooo what’s this?” Beast Boy picked up a thicker envelope with handwritten addresses on it. “It’s addressed to all of us.” 

“Who’s it from?” 

“Says, ‘Jim Baker.’ Never heard of ‘im.” 

“Probably fan mail. Maybe we saved him and never got his name. God forbid another condolence card.” 

“It’s thick. It feels like there’s something in it. Maybe money?” 

“If it’s money, we have to send it back,” Cyborg said sternly. “We can’t take it.” 

“Well then…maybe not money…” Beast Boy grinned, preparing to pocket the money anyway. He tore open the envelope, but instead of money, there was just an SD card and a note. 

‘Teen Titans,

This was left in my possession, but I think it’s meant for you.’ 

“H-hey Cy?” Beast Boy passed the envelope over to Cyborg. He scrutinized the note and then put the SD card into his arm to scan it for viruses. 

“Looks clean, but whatever is on it is slightly corrupted. The card doesn’t look like it was taken very good care of.” 

“May we see it?” Asked Starfire. 

“I can try to pull the file off.” He took the card over to the main computer and popped it in. “Oh, looks like multiple video files. Let’s see if they’ll load.” 

“Do you think someone has sent us a movie to watch? Shall I make the popped corn?”

“Something like that,” Raven answered, setting her book aside. “Don’t bother with the popcorn though.”

When the video started up, the picture was pixelated and grainy, the sound cut in and out. 

“Get—to work? —so old.” 

A face was in frame, black and white, and hard to make out. “It has to work. It’s the last chance I have.” 

“That is Robin’s voice!” Starfire shouted, standing to her feet.

“Really?” Beast Boy asked. “I can’t really tell.” 

“If you get caught, they’ll kill you.” The other person said. 

“Then I won’t get caught.” The camera shifted, showing more of the room, though it was grainy. The camera shook hard a few times and the picture became clearer. There was a young man, about Robin’s age, wearing a hospital gown. 

“Why are you messing with that thing?” He asked. 

“Secret,” said Robin’s voice. 

“Whatever dude, just don’t include me in this.” 

The camera turned, and they could see the nose down of the person Starfire thought was Robin. 

“That is Robin’s chin!” Starfire screamed. 

“Yeah, it is,” said Raven. 

“This is…not what I was prepared for. There’s twenty of us here,” Robin whispered. “Is that too much information? Crap.” 

And the video ended. 

“Play the next one!” Star demanded. 

Cyborg obeyed and played the next file. “I’ll set these up to play back to back.” 

The next video played, and it was immediately apparent that something was wrong. The camera was under a bed. They still couldn’t see Robin’s face. But his hand was on the ground. 

“There’s a red light.” He stated. “So, that’s good.” He breathed, a long, low exhale. Somewhere in an adjacent room, someone screamed. Robin took another shaking breath, then, to everyone’s surprise, he started to softly sing. “When I'm at the pearly gates, this'll be on my videotape, my videotape. Mephistopheles is just beneath…and he's reaching up to grab me.”

Starfire sat at the edge of her seat, holding a pillow to her chest. She had never heard Robin sing before. To everyone else, it was fine, but to her, his voice was perfect. Soft, gentle, and so so sad. 

“This is one for the good days and I have it all here in red, blue, green. Red, blue, green.” 

Robin’s song stopped suddenly as the scream came again, worse than before. He shifted closer to the camera, and continued his song as low as he could. “This is my way of saying goodbye. 'Cause I can't do it face to face. So I'm talking to you after it’s too late.” 

Starfire gasped. 

“No matter what happens now. You shouldn't be afraid, because I know today has been the most perfect day I've ever seen.” 

And the video ended. 

A red exclamation mark displayed on the screen, determining that the video was corrupted. 

“NO!” Starfire shrieked. “Cyborg, you must recover those videos! It is the only clue we have to Robin! Please!” 

“Star, I’m going to try, but there’s no guarantees.”

“If you do not recover those videos, I shall never forgive you!” 

“Dude, he said he’s going to try!” Beast Boy yelled back. “We just…have to be patient.” 

Starfire fled the room, her cries loud enough to rattle the walls. 

“I’ll get to work,” Cyborg stated as he retrieved the disc and left. 

Raven and Beast Boy left shortly after, both lost in their thoughts.

[dark-night-star-light]

Spirit Animals: Immortal Guardians (Reread pt. 9)

DISCLAIMER: WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR BOOKS ONE THROUGH SEVEN IN FIRST SERIES, BOOKS ONE THROUGH THREE, TALES OF THE GREAT BEASTS, AND TALES OF THE FALLEN BEASTS.

Masterpost

Chapter 1

“If only she could turn right around and go home” (1). Interesting first line . . .

“I wish I had a spirit animal, Kaiina thought. Then I’d always have company . . . ” (2). That’s . . . actually a good reason, wow.

“‘How could I have summoned Dinesh?’ Kaiina asked in wonder. ‘And why to me?’” (5). Yeah, is it, like, random . . . or . . . ?

Woah, Zerif speaks the local languages . . . ?

“ . . . but this one was white . . . ” (7). Has Kaiina never heard of a polar bear before? Don’t they teach her about these things???

“The polar bear and the boar had spread out” (8). Okay, so she does know what a polar bear is.

“ . . . saw two more tattoos appear on the man’s chest: an eagle and a ram” (10). Uh . . . when does he take Arax??? That wasn’t in Tales of the Fallen Beasts . . . 

Chapter 2

“But now Myriam was too busy playing host to worry about that - the ibis kept busy greeting each newly arriving bird . . . ” (13). Oh, that’s so cool. 

“ . . . Myriam had spent the day following them around, keeping tabs on which was the most beautiful” (13). That’s so funny. I imagine the peacocks being like, What is this thing following us around?

“She gathered lichen and wedged it into the narrow black crack, wetting the patch with pond water” (14). Isn’t the Evertree in the middle of Nilo??? It’s near a pond???

“ . . . The tree was dying” (15). I genuinely forgot why it’s dying. I know it’s something to do with the Wyrm, but I don’t remember how.

Chapter 3

“In Zhong, she’s perfected a serene smile, warm enough to honor the person’s interest but chilly enough to discourage handshakes and questions” (16). Parallels to Meilin’s very first chapter in Wild Born?

“Lately Jhi had started to take Meilin to task whenever she slipped into rudeness. It was very annoying” (17). See, this is the dynamic the Bile robbed us of in the first arc.

“Essix the Falcon is not a messenger pigeon! Essix eats messenger pigeons for breakfast!” (18). Why didn’t Rollan just send a messenger pigeon? 

 “ . . . and I’m not asking this lightly. But you must come to Greenhaven as soon as you can . . . ” (19). This does not sound like Rollan at all.

Rollan signs his letter “Your Rollan” and then in the immediate next paragraph, Meilin refers to him as her “friend”. 

Abeke has gotten even more muscular! Slay!

“But Meilin knew what her friend would really want her opinion on. ‘I like your new skinnier braids’ . . . ” (20). When has Abeke ever shown interest in hairstyles, though???

“‘Oh no! What have we done?’” (21). This quote is so weird??? I don’t know, it just feels off.

So far, the vibe in general feels weird . . . 

“ . . . Abeke said, looking at Kovo with something almost like sympathy” (23). Why, though??? Why is she sympathetic?

“‘You’re polite as always, Takoda,’ Rollan said to the boy, a complicated expression on his face” (24)). I feel like I remember Rollan being suspicious of Takoda . . . is that what this is???

Kovo drawing the Wyrm symbol on a landscape??? What is the landscape, though??? I don’t remember this . . .

Chapter 4

“‘I came down here to study while we were training’” (29). Literally when??? When did Meilin ever go to the library???

“The tortoise blinked its rheumy eyes at them and yawned” (30). I wonder if Meilin ever thought of the tortoise as being slow, like she did with Jhi.

“‘ . . . the Lost Lands is contained in here’” (33). Stetriol also had a nickname??? Eura’s the only one without a nickname, now . . . 

“At the elbow, where the living tendril ended, the knob of it throbbed and shifted, curling into new visions of the same shape” (38). So it’s in a spiral shape even as it squirms up? That’s odd.

Chapter 5

“ . . . and now he was going to lose the people he loved most in the world because of it” (39). Is he??? Also, awwww, that’s cute (that he thinks of them as the people he lives most in the world). 

“He felt his face twist into a humiliated scowl” (39). Oh my god, he’s becoming Meilin.

“Rollan wouldn’t give up. He threw his arms around his friend. ‘You’ve been disgusting ever since we’ve known you’” (40). It’s so awesome that I can actually see the character growth from the last arc. 

“‘Rollan and Abeke are our best trackers. . . ’” (42). Getting the feeling that I missed something? Rollan can track? 

“Meilin and Rollan were staring at each other with moony longing . . . ” (42). Why do they do this in front of other people???

“With one move, she’d told him she wasn’t scared of his sickness” (42). Personally, I think that moment is far superior to Meilin and Rollan staring at each other.

Chapter 6

“Takoda had spent his life in sandals, and now he was wearing a pair of heavy boots he’d borrowed from Conor” (44). I feel like I remember Takoda living somewhere else before the monastery??? Did he really wear sandals? Or did he go bare foot before that?

“He probably wouldn’t say no if they asked him to be a Greencloak someday” (45). Kovo would, though, lol.

“It was a moment that would forever be seared in Takoda’s memory . . . Takoda couldn’t imagine a spirit animal relationship more different from his own” (46). Funny, because Meilin’s relationship was pretty similar to Takoda’s during the first arc.

“ . . . the Great Beast that had nearly conquered the world - stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the leader of the Greencloaks” (48). Symbolizing the new relationship that the Greencloaks forged with the Great Beasts in general?

“If only he and Kovo knew more than ten symbols, he could explain the danger” (50). He can explain the danger anyway, right? Kovo understands Common.

I forgot whether Kovo recognizes this place or not.

“‘Kovo saved your life’” (53). Okay, so Kovo killed Briggan, who bonded to Conor, who killed Kovo, who then saved his life. Parallels???

“It was like the earth itself had a mouth, open and hungry, waiting for prey to fall in” (54). If they’re in the mountains between Zhong and Eura, how do they get to Nilo, where the Evertree is? Because this is where they fall, right?

I do not remember Kovo and the others fighting over the door??? Huh.

“Calmly, as easily as if it had been made of wet paper, Kovo reached up and plucked off his collar” (59). So ominous.

Chapter 7

“‘. . . and we’ll stop in and say hello to all the shop owners you stole from back in the day’” (60). Okay, I need Rollan to go back to that Valdez guy and push him around a bit. Just a bit.

“ . . . memories of the handsome blond boy resurfaced in unexpected moments” (62). First Shane reference in second arc!

“‘Many of the people of Northern Amaya are nomadic, following the herds throughout the year . . . ’” (63). Rollan doesn’t sound like Rollan at all.

“‘Where to?’ Rollan asked. ‘Anywhere!’ ‘No seriously, where to?’” (64). It feels like they swapped Rollan and Abeke’s personalities? I kind of like it, though. More foil theory fodder.

Rollan caused a stampede??? Wow, I clearly remember close to nothing from this book.

This whole scene is very . . . different??? In a good way, though. There isn’t much Rollan and Abeke friendship in the first arc, so now that they’re alone, it feels strange. But I like it.

Chapter 8

“‘Meilin,’ Conor said in low tones. He placed a tentative hand on her back. ‘I’m as angry as you are . . . ’” (73). Conor and Meilin friendship is all but nonexistent in the first arc, but it feels like they made up for that in the second arc.

“‘King. Worthless,’ Takoda translated” (76). King??? Who’s the king? What king??? Is it Takoda?

“‘I have to tell you that I miss him’” (76). Doesn’t putting your spirit animal in passive make you stronger to some extent? They fought off the “bonding sickness” from the staff at the end of the last arc that way.

“Stop it, Meilin. Terror is your enemy” (79). Giving major first-book-Meilin energy.

Chapter 9

“‘You have more in common with Kovo than you think’” (82). Conor getting mad!

“ . . . the torchlight seemed to have the monster dazzled” (83). The Many’s weakness being light is not something I remember. 

“ . . . a spiral, just like the one on Zerif’s forehead . . . ” (84). I wonder if Conor thought that Zerif would eventually become one of these things.

“The light bomb seemed to affect the ghoulish creatures much more strongly . . . ” (87). I wonder if the Wyrm itself is sensitive to light? Or Zerif?

“Then Takoda gasped, like he’d been punched, and in a flash Kovo became a tattoo on the boy’s neck” (88). Why does it hurt for Takoda to take Kovo into passive state? Did Kovo want it to hurt? Can he do that?

“Although she closed her eyes to slits, they streamed tears, even in the dim light” (88). Oh, so it’s just because the Many are Sadreans, not because they’re Many. 

“‘It’s okay,’ came a voice Conor knew as well as his own” (89). Aw, Conor-Meilin moment(?)!

“‘You’ve come to stop the Wyrm . . . ’” (91). Why does Xanthe think that? Was there a prophecy or something?

Chapter 10

I kind of wonder if the city or tribe you’re from is like a last name in Erdas. They say “Abeke of Okaihee” and “Rollan of Concorba” as someone would say a full name.

“Abeke longed to see her father and sister again” (96). Why??? They are literally so abusive . . . this is just one thing about this series I’ll never accept.

“‘I’ve never seen a horse take such an instant disliking to someone’” (98). Rollan’s horse rivalry saga continues. 

“ . . . The leopard lay down in the earth, head resting on her paws, and started up at him” (98). Wasn’t it mentioned that Uraza didn’t really approve of Tellun in The Evertree? Also, in Tales of the Great Beasts, she never, ever bows down before Tellun. Neither do the other Great Beasts . . . ?

“‘You make him sound so serious.’ Anda laughed. ‘I just think of him as my elk. And I’m his boy’” (99). I still think it was definitely a choice to have a leader of the Great Beasts. I also like Anda’s attitude toward Tellun. Less awed, more of a “oh, yeah, ha ha, that happened” type. 

“‘My elk is silly most of the time; I’m not sure why he’s being so serious today . . . ’ . . . ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me you were that important?’” (99). This line makes no sense. Anda knows that the elk he summoned is Tellun, but didn’t realize he was important? What exactly did Tellun tell him?

“Though she and her family had worked through their differences . . . ” (100). When??? It went straight from Abeke’s father saying he didn’t care about her at all to Abeke and her family “making up” at the end of The Evertree. 

“‘They could gossip in the woman’s tent and sip herbal teas together’” (101). Oh, he’s a sexist. Also, if he believes so much in gender roles, how come Anda told Abeke that the men would have loved to go hunting with her? Wouldn’t they have scorned her just like her father?

“‘ . . . I’m closer to my family now than I ever was before I left Okaihee . . . ’” (102). That’s unfortunate. She’s closer, or she’s just learned to put up with their abuse?

“At the sight of his son’s crying, Anda’s father’s face tightened into a frown” (103). Presenting, the manliest masculine manly man, who can’t handle the sight of a guy crying.

Chapter 11

“ . . . Xanthe looked even more like the strange beings that had attacked them . . . ” (105). Can’t tell if Conor is trying to say Xanthe looks like the monsters, or that the monsters look human. 

“ . . . Meilin allowed Xanthe to help her to her feet” (105). She what???

“ . . . the rising air smelled vaguely like the hot stones his mother had once used to warm his bed . . . ” (107). All I could think about reading this was that one scene from the Shadow and Bone show.

“Conor smiled as he imagined [Meilin’s] outraged expression” (108). Conor and Meilin’s relationship is peaking in this series. Said this before, I think, but there are no good Conor-Meilin moments in the first book. At all (in my humble opinion).

“‘Are you scared of heights, Meilin?’” (111). I don’t remember this at all??? I think she was scared of spiders because of the Drina situation and the Webmother, but heights???

“ . . . it seemed some Sadreans had spirit animals, too” (113). Right, but before the Second Devourer War, they would’ve had bonding sickness, right??? Right??? Because they didn’t have access to the Nectar??? Plot hole???

“‘Our man of mystery,’ Meilin said in amazement as she watched Takoda stride forward and introduce himself to the nearby Sadreans. ‘Shy with us and assertive with everyone else’” (114). Yeah, why’s that??? Just pointing it out doesn’t change the fact that it makes no sense.

“‘I’m not afraid of heights, you dummy’” (115). Oh my god, this is too funny.

“By the time they’d stepped onto the city’s rock floor, Conor and Meilin were breathless with laughter” (115). That’s so cute . . . they’re acting twelve again!

This trap system is really cool, it just needs some archers and it’s good to go.

My guess: the screamers fail somehow, and that’s how they get attacked by the Many (I seriously don’t remember anything about this plotline). 

“‘This shows the founding of Erdas’ . . . ‘ . . . become the civilization known as the Hellans’” (121). Where did the Hellans come from??? How do you “found” a whole world???

“ . . . Briggan and Jhi and Uraza were pictured near one another, friends even way back then” (122). Where’s Essix? Also, it’s funny, because in Tales of the Great Beasts, Uraza insults dogs and glorifies cats. Kind of want to know Great Beast Uraza and Great Beast Briggan’s relationship.

“‘He told the Hellans about the danger of the Wyrm and gave us our task . . . ’” (123). Right, but doesn’t Kovo hate humans?

“ . . . ‘the Evertree’s roots withered, and the Wyrm’s egg dropped . . . new roots began to grow where the old had been . . . much weaker than before . . . the fall cracked the egg, allowing small gray parasites . . . to spill out’” (123). I think it’s so interesting how they managed to make the original series’ climax be the cause of this new problem.

Ooooooookay, I was wrong. The screamers did work. 

“His body broke into shudders, and he couldn't make it stop” (126). Conor had a panic attack?

Chapter 12

“Aynar had mapped them a trail that would lead back to the Tellun’s Pride II . . . ” (132). Wait, so, Tellun literally gets stolen in the time it takes to go back the same way they came? Wow. That’s . . . sad.

“‘Anda is scratching the leader of the Great Beasts’” (133). How come nobody had this reaction with the Four Fallen? I mean some did, but Rollan was all “oh yeah, I summoned a Great Beast”, like he wasn’t in awe or anything???

“‘It’s confusing to me, too. It’s Tellun, but he’s not using his boomy voice’” (134). Again, Essix wanting to follow Tellun is so weird. Like, I just think the idea of a leader of the Great Beasts is a stupid idea in general, but whatever.

How did Rollan not see anything in the north, when an attack came so soon after?

“‘But I think he can communicate freely with any animal he meets’” (138). So, Tellun can: turn a desert into a lush forest in a matter of minutes, communicate with any animal he meets, and invoke awe. Is it just me, or are his powers all over the place?

“‘My father and I only started to understand each other recently, but our love was there all along’” (138). Okay, that’s it. Did they just refer to the relationship between Abeke and her father as “loving”?

“He dreamed of Artica, of balancing on an ice floe with Meilin . . . ” (141). Is this a reference to the fact that Fire and Ice is the first book in the series with major Rollan-Meilin moments?

“He recognized this awful pain. Rollan had felt it once before, under a bloodred sky at the end of the world” (142). Wasn’t that bonding sickness caused by the Staff of Cycles? And the bonding sickness is gone now, right???

Ohhhhh, so the bonding sickness comes from the Evertree being sick, and the Evertree is sick again . . . so . . . there’s bonding sickness again???

Chapter 13

“[Kovo] roared” (147). Why’s he just roaring at the Sadreans??? Is he good?

“Each of the elders came forward and did the same, choosing a different part of Kovo to honor . . . ” (148). I do not remember this ritual . . . at all.

“Immediately Jhi was covered in color . . . She looked delighted by it” (148). The elders: *doing an ancient ritual* Jhi: Play time!

“Xanthe scrutinized the panda’s belly, then she, too, threw her arms around Jhi” (149). But she just met Jhi???

“‘This isn’t precisely what I’d call a feast, not exactly,’ Conor said . . . ” (149). Conor being rude? No way . . .

“ . . . or, more distantly, her mother” (152). Her mother died giving birth to her, though???

Huh, Meilin also had a dream about Rollan and her rotting bond.

Jhi can stop noise???

“They’d gotten the high-speed summoning down to a science . . . ” (155). How high-speed, though?

“ . . . Conor managed a wicked grin” (157). Who is this guy?

Wow, Meilin be using the Many like a surfboard.

“ . . . he took her trembling frame fully in his arms” (165). I can’t get a handle on Takoda despite reading a whole-ass chapter from his perspective.

KOVO IS JEALOUS???

“‘Give her a second!’ Takoda snapped” (165). Honestly, yeah.

“His eyes were a bit too wild. His smile was a bit too stretched” (170). Did the Wyrm change him physically besides the parasite, though?

Chapter 14

“ . . . cruel Gerathon was the one who most often stalked his dreams” (171). Why??? Shouldn’t it be Kovo?

“Gone were the days of allowing Zerif to call the first shot; Abeke gave no warning before letting her arrow fly” (172). Parallels to shooting Zerif in Against the Tide? Also, when had she ever let Zerif call the first shot?

“Anda had started to flee . . . ” (173). So he’s flight out of fight-or-flight.

“‘Tell me, plainsboy, you only just summoned the Great Elk. Have you mastered his dormant state?’” (176). Okay, but Tellun died first, meaning that he was reborn first. So shouldn’t Anda have had enough time??? To learn? In Tales of the Fallen Beasts, Dawson summons Rumfuss into passive, so . . . that means that Anda should’ve also had enough time to learn to summon Tellun. Also, it’s up to the spirit animal, so Tellun can just go into passive if he chooses???

 “ . . . the mysterious figure wore a long, stiff crimson cloak. Even if there hadn’t been a hood hanging low over his head, a curious mask - a single white plate, like one huge scale of a reptile - covered his features. The stranger stride forward fearlessly, the fingers of one leather-gloved hand flexing and unflexing” (179). I love the Redcloaks’ outfit, actually. I love how it manages to cover every part of the body, the body, the face, the hair, and the hands. Also, the masks are supposed to be reminiscent of their spirit animal, right? So how come Shane’s isn’t a crocodile???

“But with one long stride, the red-cloaked stranger was in front of Abeke” (180). Awwwww.

Okay: unpopular opinion (probably . . . ): I don’t like that Anda lost his spirit animal. I think that Shane should’ve showed up earlier to help save Tellun, then disappeared as usual. Anda would’ve joined Rollan and Abeke and it would’ve helped us flesh out Tellun and his powers more. But now, all that’s left are broken relationships.

I get that it was to set up a sense of failure and hopelessness, but instead, the failure could’ve maybe come from letting Anda get so hurt?

Final thoughts and rating:

I really liked the description of Sadre. It was done pretty well. The colors made it seem so foreign, and I like that. The newer Conor-Meilin bond is so good. I don’t remember a single moment in the first series where they had such a moment. I did like Xanthe as a character. Rollan and Abeke’s relationship is amazing in this book as well. Conor getting angry and being rude in some places was something I enjoyed personally, because it shows his development from the last series. Kovo returning, and this time being on the side of the protagonists was an amazing direction to take the story, because it explains how complicated the first arc really was. I really like how mistrustful-but-grudgingly-playing-nice relationship between the group and Kovo was cemented, as well. 

Rollan didn’t really feel like Rollan for parts of the book, and while I get that it’s because he matured, it’s possible to mature a character and still have them be recognizable. I thought Anda losing Tellun was straight up unnecessary. We could’ve finally learned about Tellun’s powers, but instead Tellun gets taken and we don’t. I still don’t understand how the Sadreans had spirit animals without getting the bonding sickness, since they didn’t have access to Nectar. I absolutely despised the way they’ve glorified Abeke’s relationship to her father, and especially after she’d come such a long way to understand that family sometimes wasn’t biological. I also didn’t like that this arc wasn’t even a little foreshadowed in the first arc, though that’s a more minor thing. 

Rating: 9/10

[nixwriteschaos]

Introductions

Fandom: VOLTRON

CONTENTS: SELF INSERT

APPEARANCE: SEASON 1 EPISODE 9

[FEATURES A FEW TRANSLATED JAPANESE (I’m still learning so I used translation in some parts instead)]

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The Blade Of Marmora’s base started to shake, pieces from the ceiling crashed down to the ground. One of the members of the Blade ran up to the assumed leader at the moment in a rush. “The Red Lion is attacking the base! It’s trying to break through!” He said in an urgent voice. The Red Lion blasts a blast of fire at the base from its mouth. Shiro, who was held by two of the Blade Of Marmora members, informed “It has a link with Keith. It knows when he’s in danger. It’s coming for him.” With a serious voice towards the assumed leader. And just then, a massive piece crashes near them, causing all of them to grunt in pain.

Shiro punches the two members away to get himself free and quickly rushes to where Keith is located with the said members on his tail. Keith was unconscious, with a pained expression on his face with bruises and scratches from the attacks he previously had gotten. He managed to wake up due to the amount of rumbling that was happening. The boy could hear the rumbling of the place but also heard running footsteps approaching him. He turned his head slightly and saw Shiro rushing to him.

He quickly got the boy on his feet, asking him if he was okay but before he could get an answer, the leader’s voice was heard from across the almost destroyed room. “Stop what you’re doing!” The voice demanded. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” The boy asked cluelessly, the place rumbled again. “Call off the beast!” The leader demanded which Shiro ignored and said “Move out of the way! We’re leaving.” In an angered voice.

“You’re not leaving with that blade! It does not belong to you. You failed to awaken it!” The leader said to Keith. Keith, who was clueless as to what the man said, asked “What does that mean?” But a member of the Blade dismissed it and demanded Keith to give up the blade, rushing up to the boy with his own blade. Shiro quickly put Keith down and activated his robot arm, it glowed purple, and he swiftly swung it at the masked man.

Just before the fight could continue longer, Keith’s voice stopped the two. “Wait! Just take the knife.” Keith stood with stability and held the blade out with its handle aimed towards them for them to take it. The two dropped their weapons after the boy said it. “It doesn’t matter where I come from. I know who I am. We all need to work together to defeat Zarkon.” The boy said. “If that means I give up the knife, fine. Take it.” The boy said in defeat.

The blade then shined and glowed a mixture of blue and purple. It shined so brightly, it even shined the entire room. “You’ve awoken the blade!” The leader said in shock. Once it died down, the blade was no longer a blade, but a sword. “The only way this is possible is if Galra Blood runs through your veins.” The man inquired.

Out in space, the Castle, which was a ship at the moment, readied itself to attack the base. Coran started to count down. “Five.. Four.. Three.. Two.. One!” Just as they were about to attack, a transmission from the Red Lion appeared. “Princess, we’re coming back, and we’re bringing someone you should meet.” Shiro’s voice was heard from the transmission. “They’re all right!” Coran said in relief. “Yes, they did it!” Pidge sounded excitedly.

· • —– • ·

The Red Lion went into the passageway and landed safely on the ship’s ground. The mouth of the lion opened and revealed Shiro and Keith with a new companion. The companion walked out and turned off his mask which revealed his face which to be of Galra kin. “Princess Allura, it’s good to see that the rumours are true. You’re still alive after all these years.” He bowed down to the ground while taking off his hood. “So is Zarkon. Can we consider you our ally in the fight against him?” The princess asked in a stern voice. The man responded, “Yes, but we have little time to discuss this.” As he stood up. “I just received word from our spy inside the Galra Hierarchy. They have become aware of our presence, so the timetable for our plan has been moved up.” He informed them. “How soon do we need to begin?” Shiro asked.

“Now.” Kolivan said in a stern voice.

“Pfft!-” A muffled chuckle caught the attention of everyone. They all tried to search for the source but to no avail. But Kolivan stood where he was, still facing the majority of people. “Rukari, come out now, I know that you’re here.” He called out. A groan was heard and they all looked at the Red Lion’s mouth that was still open and there came out a member of the Blade with the uniform except there was something different about him.. He had wings and a tail poking out of his suit.

“Who are you?” Shiro asked seriously, almost demanding for the answer as he held his robot arm out to attack. “Stand down, he’s harmless.” Kolivan reassured. “無害ですか？ うそつき !” The boy said in an offended tone. “Stop with that- strange language.” Kolivan begged in a frustrated voice. “いいえ！にほんごです！" He said in frustration. "I apologize about him, he always speaks in that language." Kolivan apologized.

“What do you mean? It’s Japanese.” Shiro said after calming down. “Are you perhaps?-” He turned his attention over to the winged boy. “Human? I suppose so, my mother was half-human.” He explained. Kolivan just sighed, “Hikuri here is what you humans would call a “Tribreed.” His father was a pureblood Galra, whereas his mother was half human and half Avian.” Kolivan explained.

“That’s quite fascinating!” Coran complimented. The masked boy bowed out of thanks and then turned off his masking and took off his hood, revealing his purple to bluish skin with yellow sclera with violet pupils and his purple-haired mullet. “Very nice to meet you all. My name’s Haruka Masaki but codename’s Rukari.” The boy bowed down with his left arm on his backside and his right arm on his chest.

“I thought Avians were long gone?” Allura expressed her shock. “There’s only a few of us left. Most of us are half-bloods rather than purebloods.” The boy chuckled nervously. “But why would they attack Avia? From my research, you don’t have much value to their empire? No offense-” Pidge asked. “None taken. As for your question, they attacked us because we have these special feathers that help regulate gravity in big ships and such. Since they have very many ships. They destroyed my planet and captured and later killed my people for their feathers.” He explained.

“Enough of that, it’s time to get serious.” Kolivan glared at Haruka who quickly stood up straight. “Sorry sir.” Haruka apologized which made Kolivan nod in forgiveness. “I hope we can become close allies, Princess Allura.” The man bowed in respect. “I hope so too, Kolivan.” Allura kept her guard up. She couldn’t help but feel uneasy around him. Perhaps because he’s of Galra blood, the vile race that destroyed her planet and killed her people.

But if she wanted to save the universe, she would have to join forces with people she may not like.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

★☽A/N: THIS IS YOUR SIGN TO WRITE SELF INSERT STORIES, THEY’RE SO FUN!!

[cannibalcreepers]

My ass having to search for the last ask about this so I remember what the hell I wrote it's been so long, lol. But I'm glad you enjoyed it -----------

Two years had passed since the 7'5 giant of a woman called Gracie had been living with a small family of cannibal mutants, once a captive who was kept as a house cleaner now a valued member of the family. A lot had happened in those two years, from becoming a partner to the other giant of the family, Saw-Tooth, to meeting the rest of the extended family and eventually having a child with Saw-Tooth. Gracie had given birth to a pretty healthy large boy who was only missing one of his fingers and had a large reddish birthmark that covered the left side of his face. She ended up calling him Kaden, no other reason than simply always liking that name and also because she didn't want her child named after what deformity he had or what he was, which she always gave Maynard a side-eye whenever she asked why he didn't just name his damn kids. Saw-Tooth was surprisingly a good father, with how callous and uninterested he seemed, the man was oddly attentive during Gracie's pregnancy and even present during the birth. For him it was a mix of wanting both his partner and child to live through the process and see his first sons birth, he saw it as an extremely important experience that he had to be there for. Now that Kaden was over a year old, Saw-Tooth was once again being a handsy man, it took no genius to figure out this man wanted another child which Gracie actually was quite keen on as well. She was grateful for the fact that this monstrous beast she called her lover was patient enough to wait a whole year to ask for another child, during the last trimester of her last pregnancy she had began to stress that he would want another straight away and the first had really strained her body with how large Kaden was. But the eldest cannibal was no idiot, he saw what being pregnant was doing to Gracie and if he had harassed her for one right after popping out their first son he worried she wouldn't survive the second, so decided on leaving her be for her body to get strong again. After all he wanted her to survive and he could be a patient man, well patient enough to not need to nut in her as he had gotten into the habit of eating her out and loving the attention of the blowjobs she gave him. So a whole year of maybe a few cheeky fucking, with a lot of pulling out, as well as a lot of sucking and eating was all they got before Saw-Tooth thought surely they waited long another to put another kid into this giant lady. To his luck, Gracie was thinking the same thing that when he approached to grab her by the hips she was quick to rub her butt against his crotch, making the large cannibal stiffen up in surprise. Feeling how fast his hard on came from a simply rub really showed Gracie how much her big cannibal wanted her, grabbing his large hand she would drag him off to their bed in the hut, lucky for them neither One-Eye, Three-Fingers or Kaden were home so Gracie was quick in pushing the man down and began helping him remove both their clothing. He couldn't keep his large hands off her, making it harder for her to take off her clothes while he was feeling her up, grasping at her breasts and hips, squeezing the soft flesh that were now covered in small scars and scrapes, nothing like his own scarred and rough skin but she had a few from past victims going after her.

When she was finally able to strip of the last of their clothing, she straddled his hips to grind against his thick cock, Saw-Tooth's fingers digging into her hips to press her harder against him. The large man wanted to be inside her badly, feeling the wetness of her pussy made it easier for his length to slide back and forth against her folds, his deformed mouth clasping over one of Gracie's breasts and biting down hard causing her to gasp and moan. His exposed top teeth bit down on the woman's tender tit, leaving a fresh red wound, lapping up any blood with his thick tongue. Gracie on the other hand was clawing at the back of his head, holding onto him tight as he lavished her body with attention. She dragged her nails over his skull as a wonderful massage, making him groan against her flesh, wildly humping up against her cunt until his hardened cock finally slipped into the hot wetness. She wrapped around him perfectly, that wonderful size he had grown accustomed too, ever since she entered his world he had never taken any other person as all he wanted to ever fuck was his gorgeous giant of a woman. For Gracie, she never wanted to leave, she was definitely a different woman than what she was two years ago, this cannibal family had changed her life and the woman didn't think she could ever return back to society when the amount of love, freedom and respect she received, and a child on top of that, was something she never wanted to give up. Saw-Tooth was quick with his thrusts, he was hungry to fill her up with his hot cum, hungry to make her body squeeze around him in pleasure, her heat and wetness squeezing his cock with each pump he did inside her. The both of them weren't quiet with their fucking either, the hut echoed with the sounds of sweaty wet flesh slapping against each other along with their moans, grunts and cries of pleasure, the noises loud enough to scare of any birds nearby. The heat of their breathes tickled each others skin, sweat and body fluids mixing together as they grinded and thrusted, Saw-Tooth's movements were starting to become more erratic and primal, arms wrapping tight around Gracie's waist as he released himself inside her, filling her deeply with his cum as her body tensed from her own orgasm. The two held onto each other for a long time, taking their time getting their breath back from the good fucking. Both knew they would have to get up and dress soon before the rest of the family returned home, but for now they just wanted to bask in each others presence.

[seventhconsumedsigil]

I have decided that, on a whime, I shall be doing this for Alva, my V20 character for whom I have untold amounts of brainworms for because I love her.

alone: She actually deals with isolation pretty well! So long as there's input. Book, view, just anything. This has gotten worse as her supernatural senses have moved from impressive to downright insane, she needs sensory input in some way.

betrayal: Not really, no! She's had quite a few plans for it, but no one she's actually trusted has done that. Mainly because that list has a whole three people in it, she just doesn't trust most people. That's healthy, right? No betrayals on her part, she stabs people in the front like a dignified person.

bound: She is a failed shovelhead. Meaning that when she was Embraced into the vampiric unlife, she got smashed in the head with a shovel and chucked in a mass grave to see who clawed out. She was not one of them. This has done... not great things to her mental state, especially given she got unearthed by a wild animal a whole decade later. She has a whole complex about backup plans and retaining mobility/independence now.

break: If you take her fae gf away, there will be Bad Things. Everyone involved will learn exactly what a Koldun of the Way of Earth can do, and if they're unlucky, how long a fleshwarper can drag things out. Her ancestors made people into chairs while they were still screaming, and the very nasty bit in the corner of her mind has such innovations in that area to show you.

desire: She wants MORE. To have domain and connection and all that time from the backhanded gift of immortality. She's not really processed it yet, but she wants to frankly slightly concerning degrees. We'll blame the fae influence, even though this tendancy was absolutely there before.

failure: She didn't get into uni on accounts of terminal broke-ness. She spent the last few years of her natural (as opposed to unnatural) life slowly grinding her soul away as a paramedic, drinking too much, and curling up into a ball. This was not a good time for her. Maybe she'd have turned it around, maybe she wouldn't, and she doesn't like that she's unsure on that.

fear: To lose control. Being unable to get herself out of something is one iteration, although another that's becoming a whole complex is mental control. She is terrified of having her control over her own emotions and mind touched even more than the physical side. It's one of the few things that's caused her to have panic attacks nowadays, and her heart only beats out of habit, it takes a lot to do that.

future: Oh boi. This ties in with break, but she's got the tools avalible to her to do some awful, awful shit if she leaned into the Beast. Steal a Treasure from the fae and rip what she can from their souls, start diablerising some of the fools she deals with, go down the Path of Metamorphosis and emerge an unholy mess for everyone else to deal with. Assuming they can.

ghost: N/A, at least not seperate from prev with the mass grave and empty former life.

guilt: She is a vampire, insert usual moral compunctions here. Add in the fact that her own mental issues mean she deals with social situations, even when she's genuine, in a very mechanistic, cold blooded way. When it's all masks, how genuine can she really be, even to her love? May have had a little too much of my own head leak through here, makes her character spicy tho.

hate: Mental control, and more widely, the lack of control she sees in others. Fae, vampire, a few sorcerers, none of them focus themselves. They lack discipline, will, the drive to make themselves something more. She holds them in profound disdain

heartbreak: Her problem was mostly an empty life, not a shattered one. And so far, her romancing of a fae has involved almost none of the classical problems! In this way, her life's going perfectly fine

hide: Oh boi, where do I begin. She hides her original name from almost everyone, the face she's a vampire from most, her original face behind an array of others, partially due to her subconcious swapping her face around so much that she sometimes struggles to maintain consistent faces day to day.

hunt: N/A unless I twist it around a lot and honestly this is getting so long already.

mask: Oh boi. On the physical end, as a fleshwarper who's powers sometimes decide to do it themselves, she's almost all masks. She puts on her original face maybe once every few weeks. On the mental end... she doesn't even know where it ends. Lux with the Anarchs, the Cam, with 2 seperate semi-Autarkis elders, Miranda, Cait, that's just the deliberate level. The social masking, balancing how much to explain, how much to hide, what buttons to push on other people. She's really just a pile of masks that does magic sometimes and turns into a dragon-insect-thing on occasion.

midnight: Being dead and all, her sleep is more a coma. She has however colonised it via the art of lucid dreaming, and now uses it to roll over every single interaction she makes with almost every other supernatural, picking over it for weaknesses or slips or flaws. This is her idea of a healthy level of analysis.

mistake: Arguably, half her relationships. But more seriously, she's playing with fire. Dating a fae, being taught by a weird fucked up elder who lives in the woods and has Opinions about the antonine wall, and most of all continuing to stick around Ignis, who is a strong competitor for Most Unstable Vampire in the entire local setting, with some hefty competition. He is unfortunately in the middle of all the politics though, and hey, he got an emotional support human at least!

monster: Where do I even start. Vampire, shapechanger, magic-user, she's just every kind of weird. She's what creeps in through the window at night, or would be if she didn't need to follow stupid old hospitality laws about entering uninvited. She's increasingly comfortable with some parts of it like the shapechanging, but the blood drinking and manipulative habits are something she's not really happy with in general and likely never will be. It's VtM, we play monsters here. She's just honest to herself about it.

nightmare: See Midnight, I feel like I'd just repeat myself.

pain: Well, she got her arm half ripped off once, that was awful. Was after she decided to fiddle her pain receptors around to be able to suppress it though. She doesn't really feel it the same way unless she wants to.

secret: All her bitching and moaning and angst? Fuck that. She likes this. She likes having some fucking power for once, to speak and let the world bend around her, to just be able to destroy sometimes. And she likes to tell herself that's mostly the Beast, but there's a reason it speaks with her voice.

skin: Standard issue VtM vampire, and she's actually far too comfortable in both her skin and other people's skin. Different faces, different bodies, different body morphologies altogether. They all fit far too nicely for her. She might fundamentally alter her own anatomical structure on a lark on a Friday night.

torture: She's not been deliberately tortured, and likes to think herself above such inefficient method. Most of the time. She is a Tzimisce though. She could show someone tortures unbeknownst to mortal ken. She thought of a few already. The Cold Iron Skeleton is her nastiest, for if another fae takes the step over that line to using cold iron on her gf. She feels like that should make the example nice and clear

wound: Given her pain suppression and healing, she reacts to wounding... barely at all. She had one arm dangling off and still proceeded to beat a fellow into a red pulp with the other. She does try to hide it though, especially the gorey process of healing herself (or indeed any involved shapechanging). It's not for the faint of heart.

oc asks: not-so-nice edition

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

[e17omm]

Long rant post about Natlan. It gets kinda negative. I dont think that Hoyo does a good job writing long, open world adventure stories.

WOOOOW so we CAN use mutliple elements at the same time!

BOY DID THEY FORGET ABOUT THAT FOR THREE YEARS

2. The regions have gotten so busy... There's stuff everywhere and it feels less like a region and more like a place to do stuff. You know, like a video game.

I miss Mondstadt...

3. This sure is a chill and relaxing vibe for a country at constant war with the Abyss.

4. .... look the whole tournament thing sounds great but I just do not care about it. At all. I just met these people, I just got to Natlan, I have no idea what the war against the Abyss is like, I have no reason to care because again - I do not know these people.

5. It feels like theyre doing a big character moment for Kachina but again, again, I just met her and she gave me this sob story of how she's too weak and now she's in the tournament winning because she believes in herself or something. This happened in like an hour? Why should I care? Good for you I suppose?

6. yaaaay woho good for you Kachina you won. Yup. Super cute and strong character moment that is completely undeserved from a writing perspective because I met her an hour ago. Hoyo, you're not getting me to like a character by taking shortcuts like this.

7........................................ Wasnt our reasoning for coming to the tournament that we could meet the Archon because she would be there? Well we didnt talk to her because of the tournament, and now the tournament is over, and we still ahvent talked to her..... So why are we leaving?

8. Boy I sure do love Statue of the Seven right at the border of the revealed map. Who wants exploration in an open world game?

9. We are really just going to hotsprings to relax. Does the Abyss and the Archon not matter to you at all, Traveller? You know, the Archon you said you wanted to meet as soon as you could and the Abyss YOUR FUCKING SIBLING IS INVOLVED WITH???

10. It wouldve been really funny if Honkai was a part of the Honkaiverse. I miss regular Honkai beasts.

11. Wait, werent only the victors of the tournament the ones to go fight the Abyss? If it can appear anywhere and regular guards fight them off...

12. hahahahha oh it just took them FOUR YEARS to remember that the Traveller can purify stuff.

Im not mad that they set it up, Im mad that it hasnt played a part in the story for four fucking years. Like if they actually did a long overarching story instead of nearly completely isolated stories for each region, us purifying the Abyss should have played a part often in the story and been the thing that makes us famous instead of... being that person that travels around the regions. I still cant tell what makes us so famous.

13. Yeah Hoyo has not given me a reason to care about Natlan so far. Its all "look at all these nice people and pretty places! Wouldnt it be sad if they got attacked?" and like people are dying and not even being afraid because they've died tons of times and been resurrected before and oh did I forget? Ive only known them for an hour and a half, two hours at most?

Act 1 completed. Complete failure. Another character got that "Yes! Thank you for the praise! Ill believe in myself now!" thing and, Hoyo, that worked super great when there was hardships and fighting and clashing and about 10 to 15 chapters behind it. It doesnt work well when you've given it 2 hours.

I dont think that Hoyo is good at writing long, open world stories. Theyre good at writing smaller, more focused stories. Not this. Every region is basically completely self contained. The biggest overarching plotline is Scara taking the Electro Gnosis and using it in Sumeru. That's it. One moment of overarching story over 6 regions.

It lacks character arcs. It lacks a connected plotline. The Abyss and the Unknown God and our Sibling has mattered so little for 4 freaking years. The Traveller has barely changed at all. Everyone we meet is basically already at the end of their character arc. Our journey makes no sense we keep backtracking constantly to revisit old regions and our order of exploring the regions is nonsensical and decided entirely on "Well, I think you should head here" by whoever we talk to at the end of an Archon Quest.

This isnt just GI, its HSR too. Why are we going back to the Luofu? Weren't our- wait. WERENT THE ASTRAL EXPRESS LOW ON FUEL??? Wasnt that the problem at the end of Penacony????? Wasnt that why we were going to the Black Swan planet?? WAIT WHY THE FUCK ARE WE BACK AT THE LUOFU???!??!