#but i guess I must've keeled them

[pastacatprod]

It's 3 AM, early morning. Your key jangles a little louder than it should when you insert it into the door.

Something's wrong.

The door swings open. Strewn across the floor: bodies. More bodies than are usually on your floor. And they're all over. You stifle a shocked gasp.

How did they get here? You try to remember, but something blocks your access.

There's only one real possibility: I guess you must've killed them. Killed them.

[urlocalrambler]

I finally snagged time to circle back to this, but omg, KO, my rambles were just random thoughts, but yours gave them a whole new foundation and meaning.

I think you're correct, Damon liked Winter because she was broken but still beautiful. And more than that, she was strong. Winter tried and fought and never took her trauma lying down even putting aside the blindness, and including the rocky relationship with her parents and Damon's whole revenge plot– Winter never gave up or let herself feel like less or allowed others to put her down, she had a steel to her and is the sort of person who gets up even when it's futile. For Damon, who constantly struggled to deal with his own trauma and used unhealthy coping mechanisms to hold on to his sanity, Winter must've seemed so inspirational and astounding. She's like glass shards patched together into new art, so atypical but still a masterpiece.

And I guess a part of Damon also liked that he was partly responsible for breaking her. The blindness is probably a literary parallel (Damon was preyed for his looks, he was never 'seen' by those who sought to seduce him, but Winter can't see so if she loves him then it must be for who he really is. in this case, the sightless girl saw him) as much as it is a plot device. So, you're right, Damon would've been just as obsessed if the fountain accident led Winter to assume some other kind of permanent injury, but blindness served as the most plot convenient.

Winter wasn't pristine, but she is pure. She was only ever tainted by him, and Damon probably loved that.

Their first meeting in the fountain will always be a pivotal, core memory for both of them for different reasons. Winter might've lost something, but Damon gained a whole new ideology from listening to her. 'We can only feel one pain at a time', Damon embodied that idea for years, where Winter grew past it. So, I think it's a mixture of Damon liking that he had a role in how she became blind, and how he had an effect on her just like she did on him (because when has the distinction of negative or positive effect ever mattered to Damon, he'd have wanted to be on an even keel and remembered by her at any costs. It would've been worse if he carried her ideology, but Winter had remained untouched and forgotten all about him. The blindness set them up to always be interconnected, and he liked having a role in her childhood story just like she had one in his), but Damon also likes that she is dependent on him and that she sees deep into who he is.

Then, a fundamental part of Damon's character is that he hates women for a long time. He believes them to be root cause of issues. This is why he despises Rika for invading the horsemen and being a threat that could tear them apart, it's why he's always distrustful when Banks is around men and doesn't want her to have their attention and always lashed out whenever he thought she wanted Kai. It wasn't just about keeping Banks, it was also about fearing that he'd lose Kai. If we're being psychological, Damon probably has the inklings of a madonna-whore complex at the start of the series.

Even if Winter might desire attention and care about how she's perceived in the male gaze, she's still 'better' than other women in Damon's eyes because it's harder to blame her for drawing attention. She can't see the effect of little actions like walking into the boys' changing room, like not wearing that sweatshirt, and it's why he lashes out in Conclave over the guard watching her. Winter doesn't know. It's not her fault if men look, it's on them, and she gets a pass. Whereas with Banks, she had to de-feminise herself to meet Damon's insane standards because well, Damon had issues, and he was persistently afraid of her leaving and of her becoming like his mother or her mother. He also probably thought Banks would be even more likely to leave if she had anyone else to rely on. It was about isolating her, just as much as he was concerned with protecting her from men, and he certainly wanted her to not be like other women who he always saw as weak, as toys or tools for men to use, thinking it's because they put themselves in that position.

Damon never really saw women as victims or something to be protected, and it shown in how his direct parallel was Kai who held the opposite ideology on a lot of things but especially this– Damon's not a really a typical sexist at the start of the series, or not the 'white knight' kind at least.

He definitely liked Winter strong, he liked that she persevered and didn't take his shit lying down, but he also liked that she'd never be able to forget him and that she was broken due to him – both feelings don't have to be mutually-exclusive and they aren't in Damon.

Also, the idea you brought up of Winter and Natalya sharing similarities. That is so interesting and true, and it's a thought that I only just now considered. But you're right. Winter and Natalya were both trained ballerinas, she was even taught by her for a bit if i remember right, they were both girls taken advantage of by older men, they probably do share so many similarities and little habits. For one, how they move since Winter lacks sight, but her other senses are heightened, she must be as dovelike as Natalya. Then, Winter sees him so Damon can put on his show and trick everyone, it's always going to be harder to fool Winter. She uses touch as a secondary language, something Damon has issues with, yet he can't fault for using it and picking up on things like self-harm because it's just a natural result. It is such a fascinating thought because all things considered, Winter should remind Damon of Natalya, yet it's not really brought up in the DN narrative, and I think that's a wasted opportunity. It would've been a unique character exploration, the idea of Winter triggering him, of her being imperfect as a character and some tension lingering for DamonWinter because of all the couples, they had the happiest ending with all their tension resolved by the end which is nice, sure, but not very realistic especially when compared to the other couples that still had some issues to work on behind the scenes.

DamonWinter may not be my favourite couple, KO, but it can't be denied that they are an interesting pair and that this was a fascinating conversation !

Hi KO! This is a thought that's only recently struck me... but Damon & Winter, I feel the sudden urge to ramble about them !

A lot of that relationship is built on trauma bonding (or, well, trauma-creating too, I suppose). I always held a belief that part of Damon liked that Winter couldn't see, he liked that she was innocent and untouched, and could never be tainted by the world in the same way as everyone else. He treats her special and different from other women due to her being blind and so she can't consciously do a lot of what he hates or dislikes— the key example is at Arion's party when Winter comes down in revealing clothes, and Kai tries to give her that sweatshirt. Damon says it's never her fault if men look, that she could wear anything, and it would be fine. Yet, he simultaneously acknowledges that if it were Nik who came down wearing that, he would've gone ape-shit because Damon would've perceived her as having done it purposefully, but he doesn't see it that way with Winter.

Damon obviously had a complicated history with sex and femininity. He seemed to hate promiscuous women, just as much as he disliked women who didn't guard themselves. That makes sense for his character. He was sexualised by his only mother figure who was, in turn someone groomed by his father. He repeated a lot of her behaviours due to that trauma. He was striving to feel stronger than other people who hurt him (the woman who hurt him), so he could never be in that position again because that was one of his core fears. Damon has little issue in using women, but he doesn't want to be used back. He doesn't like them wanting him in a purely physical way, and he'd never stand for being dominated – he needs to hold all the cards, he needs to have power and he seems to like it when the woman hates being with him just a little...

And that makes Winter interesting because due to her blindness, he's pretty much certain that all her feelings for him are genuine. She doesn't know what he looks like (and lets be real, Damon probably was the most attractive horsemen in his looks), all her attraction to him was built off his actions and that was clearly something that Damon liked.

I think I mentioned this before, but Winter was very clearly a love interest for Damon above all else. She was the least developed of the girls. Winter was created to be the perfect fit for Damon, to be a character who slots against him like a missing puzzle piece. And I do think her blindness plays a part in making Winter come off as 'perfect' in Damon's eyes.

It makes me wonder... would he still have loved Winter if she hadn't been blind?

(i might've rambled a little too much. Apologies for that 😭)

Adri, I will not accept your apologies! These are the perfect ramblings. I’m here for all the ramblings. Ramble longer.

I always thought that Damon’s affection towards Winter started, obviously, in the fountain. But I thought the obsession was about her being broken, and yet still pure. So in a way, it’s definitely about her being blind. But I think he’d have been just as obsessed if she was paralyzed or damaged in some other way.

Damon is hypocritical by nature, but at least he realizes it. I mean, it definitely could be that because she’s blind, her femininity isn’t contrived or for the enjoyment of the male gaze – she can’t even see the male gaze. But that would be misunderstanding Winter, since she very much does care about her appearance and how she’s perceived by others. We know this by her asking Rika if she’s hot. And if the idea is that she’s blind, so she can’t purposefully try to tempt anyone, she's just being herself, I bet that weird Mr. Grinch Dance was a big surprise.

Like Rika and Banks before her, Winter is framed as not really knowing how to use her femininity and needing Alex to come along as to help – hence the costume scene where Alex gets free rein to make Winter something sexy with whatever she’s got in her closet (I can’t believe we literally get another “shopping” scene and I didn’t even realize it. She truly is the FGM of these girls.)

I kind of interpreted his interest in Winter being because he likes women who have strength. Winter, for all her blandness, is impressive for continuing to dance regardless. This type of injury could take anyone out, but Winter persisted. I’m sure between Arion and her parents, she received a lot of pressure to just quit dancing. She was never going to be professional; just accept she’s. . . Damaged. But she didn’t. Sure, they shipped her off to a school for the blind, but she didn’t have to continue dancing. Winter has something of a backbone. But it’s like you’ve said, she’s written for Damon, so her whatever steel she’s got is always going to soften for him. They work well together because they were written to.

However, more than the differences between Winter and Natalya, I thought the similarities were interesting. It surprised me that Damon would be interested in someone had the same talent as his abuser. Given that someone Winter’s foundational training would have been through Natalya, they must dance/move similarly. They probably listen to the same music. I would have thought that seeing Winter would bring back memories.

And even though Winter can’t fight against him because she can’t really see, she can get into his head through her words, something Natalya was able to do as well.

Because Winter is blind, a lot of her world is experienced through touch, which you think would be an issue for Damon. Natalya touched him in ways that left him traumatized, even sensitive in certain areas. He’s gone out of his way to hide his self-harming, so the scars can’t be seen, but Winter finds them easily because she’s so used to looking through her fingers.

You’d think Winter would be more of a threat to him than he lets on, but that doesn’t seem to be in the narrative at all. It was always interesting to me in small but very specific ways that Winter and Natalya are similar, and how that would affect Damon. How did he fall in love with someone who should remind him of Natalya, and was that the point the entire time?

I’ve also spent time thinking about the fact that Damon can be surer of her because she can’t see him. I’m surprised I’ve never thought of the order of their attractiveness, but I won’t argue that Damon is probably at the top of the list (but who's the least attractive of them, knowing that this means they're still really attractive? Do you think the other kids at their school had a ranking?). Because she can’t see him, she doesn't have her guard up against "Damon Torrance", it does open the way for him to be more genuine and let his actions prove his character. She can’t see how mean he looks all of the time.

Mostly, I’m fascinated by the idea that Winter’s blindness work for Damon because he likes to hide/she can’t be distracted/she’s dependent on him. Or is it because of how she became blind that he’s attached to. That moment where she reached for him, as a child wanting nothing more than to help and asking for his help, and he hates the idea of her reaching for anyone else. That moment bonded them, and nothing else can't override that.

Because her blindness is very clearly plot convenience, right? They don’t get close unless she can’t identify him. He’d have to get close through actually catfishing her, and then blinding her by some other means, such as a blindfold. While that can work, it isn’t the same is it?

Regardless, Damon needs to be needed, and no one will ever need him more than Winter. Her blindness is a part of what makes them work.

I'm not sure if my ramblings answered yours. But this is the most interesting DamonWinter conversation that I've had in a while. Let me know your thoughts.

KO

[creepswrites]

Tired of Running Ch 2 (Sinclairs x Reader)

Chapter 2 is finally here! I hope it was worth the wait! As always, feedback is super appreciated ^^ Getting some backstory as well as some tension building <33

Sinclair Brothers x AFAB!Reader (they/them)

Summary: “Listen, I ain’t tryin’a poke my nose in your business but I do know the House of Wax ain't been visited in awhile. It’s got cribs inside, storage reasons. Maybe they’re camping in there.” That seemed to grab attention, two of the five breaking off to investigate the house. Perfect, Bo thought to himself with a smirk, Vincent will be waiting for them. Warning: violence, graphic death(s), flashbacks of death(s)

CH. 1 || CH. 3

Vincent slammed the door of the car as he stormed up to the front of the house, ignoring Bo's weak insults as he pushed into the house. "Vince, it ain't my fault Mama's sick! What, you want her to just waste away and die?!"

Vincent spun on his heel and glared at Bo as he signed. "You KNOW how important college is to me! Was! Mama wanted me to be successful, I shouldn't have let you pull me back!"

Bo glared at his twin. "I didn't want ya back either, y'know! But I'm the only one providin' for this fuckin' family and her medical bills are pilin' up Vince! The money Pa got you for school could be used to HELP her! Y'know, the only woman who ever fucking loved you-!"

Bo was cut off by Vincent's fist cracking his jaw with a harsh punch. His twin kneed him in the stomach and he went down, helpless to Vincent sitting on his chest and wailing on his face in anger. Years of anger and hatred poured out into his actions and Bo could barely do anything to stop him. Even if he told Mama, she'd never believe him. Her little angel Vinny hitting Bo?! Surely not.

Bo had always been the "evil" twin, after all.

By the time his anger ran dry, so had the blood caking Bo's face and Vincent's knuckles. They were both breathing heavily as Vincent stood up and made his way to the kitchen sink to wash off the blood. He pointedly did not look at Bo as he scrubbed his hands so violently they started bleeding with newfound vigor. Wrapping his hand had been a trouble and the fresh, red blood quickly stained the wraps.

"Fuck you hit fuckin' hard..." Bo grumbled from his spot on the floor. "Gonna be hard to explain to Mama what happened..."

"She can't even talk anymore," Vince signed aggressively, "doubt she's gonna use her dying breath to ask who broke your face. Maybe she'll think you're handsome this way."

The mechanic glared at Vincent. "Guess you'd be the expert in the field of broken faces, huh?"

Vincent turned around, ready to break all the teeth in Bo's mouth before they heard their mother start screaming again. Morphine must've run out. After a heated staring match, Vincent finally relented and stormed upstairs to let Bo lick his wounds.

Pushing open the door to their mother's room was as horrible as Vincent remembered it. Trudy Sinclair used to be a phenomenal artist, a great creator. And now here she was, limited to tubes and wires that kept her from immediately keeling over. The smell of ozone and medicine burned his nose and Vincent was momentarily grateful the mask hid his face of disgust from their mother. Surveying her many monitors, Trudy's eyes could only watch her son's bloodied hand change her bags out to get a fresh dose of morphine coursing through her veins.

Vincent wondered if she'd ask him to put her out of her misery if she could still speak. Damn their father for dying before he could fix her vocal cords. Though maybe it's better she can't speak, he thought, as he watched her empty eyes stare vacantly at his bandaged hand.

...

“Vince?” Bo’s voice snapped Vincent from his thoughts as he reached for the twin knives in front of him and winced. Keeping his back to Bo, he just gave a curt nod. Ready to go. “Alright,” Bo sighed, “you’ll need to sneak up on em while Lester gets the front. If I can’t talk em outta here, we kill each and every motherfucker out there.”

Vincent nodded in agreement before hearing his twins footsteps return upstairs. Looking down at the knives in his hands, Vincent wondered if things would have been different had he stayed at college. Or if their fate was this: fulfilling their dead mother's final wishes.

...

Their mothers funeral had been beautiful. Her open casket funeral had the whole town of Ambrose visiting, lamenting the loss of their talented artist. Vincent spent the day squeezing Lester's hand while he cried, fresh out of high school and still their baby brother. Bo greeted people and was a sociable host. Vincent had only been back in town for two months before their mother passed and a part of him was relieved to be here for Lester. Neither he or Bo were bad brothers to Lester but he knew Bo wouldn't be there for their little brother's emotional needs. Losing both their father and now mother over the span of three years hit them all pretty hard.

He still resented Bo for dragging him home.

Staring at the open casket after everyone had gone home, the twins didn't say anything for a long time. Bo looked nice in his fitted, all black suit. So did Vincent, although he'd taken the jacket off ages ago. It wasn't long before Bo spoke up, "Y'know, Mama said she'd wanted to make a whole damn museum outta this place." Vincent turned silently to his twin who gave him a quick glance. "Said since Ambrose was becomin' a dead town, she wanted to make a Town of Wax to expand her art. Least, until she got sick."

"Your point?" Vincent signed.

Bo turned to him properly this time. "Let's give her what she wanted, yeah? Least we can do for her. She taught you what she knows, at least you'll get to do art again!" He smiled at Vincent as though he'd come up with something great. "Think about it Vinny: The Town of Wax! Just like Mama wanted! We can make her proud-!"

Vincent shook his head quickly. "She never taught me to make full statues like she could! I'd need a base of some sorts in order to make it work. Otherwise it'll just be too much wax. Hollow figures are harder for me." His signing was slow, so Bo could keep up. True, while their mother did hope for Vincent to one day take over her art, their lessons had been cut short when she fell ill. Vincent preferred painting over sculpting, but Bo had a point. Fulfilling their mothers wishes would be nice.

His schedule was free anyways, thanks to Bo. May as well make him deal with that.

"Shit, you're right," Bo hummed as he crossed his arms over his chest in thought, "well, maybe there's a base or somethin' you can use? Somethin' human-like that would get ya the right proportions..." He trailed off as his eyes fell on the casket.

Vincent followed his brothers eyes to their deceased mother, arms crossed over her chest with a scorpion clenched between her hands. Bo spoke up, his words mirroring Vincent's internal thoughts. "I bet we got a good base sittin' right here..."

Lester was scrambling to get things set up for you and the kids upstairs. Grabbing a box of cereal, some granola bars, water bottles, anything he could find that would keep outside a fridge. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long but with the early hours of the morning creeping in, he wasn’t going to leave you stranded without food and water. With the food placed in an old milk crate, Lester hauled it upstairs to your guest room. Opening the door with a soft creek, Lester took in the sight of you asleep on the bed, completely relaxed and oblivious.

The soft sounds of a running wave machine would be the only real barrier between you and the gunshots that were bound to be heard.

Lester set the crate by the closet, clearly in sight, and stepped towards you. The only light in the room was that old blue nightlight Bo had gotten Lester when they were kids, shaped like a shark, and one of Lester’s favorite possessions. He smiled down at you before reaching to his belt and unfastening the holder there. He lay his knife on the bedside table close by you. If anything horrible did happen, he wanted you safe. The scruffy man rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, watching you for just a moment more before turning his attention to the sleeping twins.

Michael and Peter hadn’t so much as stirred and Lester just had to hope this wouldn’t damage them too much. He remembered being barely nineteen when Bo and Vincent first started this project and how horribly it messed him up then. At least he could rest easy knowing you and the boys were as protected by him as you could be. Making sure to stay quiet, Lester closed the bedroom door and locked it, hiding the key in Vincent’s room, in his pillowcase. It would be safe and so would you be.

Grabbing his shotgun with a resigned expression, Lester made his way downstairs, saying a silent prayer that you and the kids would be spared from this.

...

The day their dad disappeared had mostly been a lot of screaming, in Lester's memory. He'd only been about sixteen at the time and Bo and Vince had just turned twenty-one. Mama's condition had been getting worse and worse, her pain so terrible she couldn't even move from bed anymore. Lester didn't mind it so much anymore. He was so busy with school nowadays it didn't even cross his mind. Going upstairs to speak with Mama just became part of the new schedule and he expected to see her downstairs less and less. Vincent took over for making dinner and Bo got a job down at the gas station to help pay for her medical bills.

They weren't hurting for money but Lester felt like he had to do something! So he got a part time gig cleaning roadkill on weekends to pitch in. Vincent was so busy getting ready for college in between taking care of their mother anyways that he didn't want his brother worrying.

Waking up to their dad missing had been new though. They got the whole town searching for him, Bo driving around in his truck while Lester searched on foot with Vincent. About an hour in, Bo showed back up at the house. He'd found him. So the three brothers piled into the car and drove off to some clearing nearby. Only a mile or two from Ambrose. Lester spotted his car and he and Vincent were out of their seats before Bo even turned the car off.

Their father stood in the center of the field, one of his pistols that he usually kept behind glass clenched tight in his fist.

Lester himself couldn't remember much after the fact. Bo and their Pa got in a screaming match again, typical, whilst Vincent kept Lester from seeing much. The elder Sinclair clutched his sixteen year old brother to his chest, forcing Lester's face into the front of his sweater with a harsh hand. Lester had protested, wanting to go see their Pa and ask if he was okay. He couldn't see Vincent's signs, if he had been signing anything, but his grunts were good enough indicator as any.

Don't look.

A loud gunshot had been more deafening than any screams the brothers let out as their father fell limp in the field, gun falling from his hand. Lester's ears were ringing, drowning out Bo's screaming, but Vincent held him tight to make sure he didn't see. But the smell of iron couldn't be disguised.

...

Lester stood in front of the grave clutching the antler of a deer. Blinking back tears, he let out a shakey breath. "Hey Pa," his voice nearly a whisper when he finally did speak, "talked with Bo 'n Vince today. They, uh, told me about what growin' up with you was like. How you used to strap Bo to a chair to make him eat." Lester swallowed hard, knuckles whitening around the antler. His hands shook. "Used to look up to ya, y'know? Vincent always had Mama and I know ya didn't like Bo much so... tried to be your lil guy but..." Wiping the falling tears, Lester choked on a sob. "Damnit why'd you have to hurt Bo like that?! Thought he got the scars from a fight, he used to tell me that! I'd say 'Bo, where'd ya get those nasty scars?' and he'd tell me it was from the one fight he never lost!"

Lester threw the antler at the gravestone, glaring through his tears.

His father didn't speak back and Lester let himself be seated cross-legged in front of the stone. A rock he'd come to hate so much.

"I guess he was right though. Never let him win, did ya?" He sniffed. "Even at the very end when he was beggin' ya not to do it... Been a year since that night and still I... I wish you'd loved me as much as I had loved you." He choked out, grabbing the antler and digging it into the hard soil that covered the grave.

"Wish you hadn't done what you did. I know carin' for Mama was hard and you... you knew she was gettin' worse but..." The boy wiped his face again. "Why weren't we enough to stay for?"

His father said nothing, paid Lester no mind. Just like always.

Lester came downstairs and joined Bo and Vincent who now stood lingering by the door. "Here's the plan," Bo started, "Vince, you'll go out the back and head to the House of Wax. Lester, you go after him but head round the side of the house. Stay hidden. When I give the signal, shoot anyone you can see. Leave him though, I'll deal with him." Lester gave his brother a quick nod, knowing exactly who he meant.

"Once they're all down, we'll need to move quick." Vincent signed. "They outnumber us so try to split them up." He said mostly to Bo who gave a nod.

"I'll go try 'n divert their attention. You two get goin'." Bo hummed before attaching the holsters for his knives to the insides of the pockets of his jumpsuit. Out of sight, unlikely to be seen in the dim light of Ambrose's streetlights. With a slow breath, Bo pushed the front door open as soon as he heard his brothers go out the back door.

Looking over at the approaching man, your partner gave him a strange look. "Hey man," he called over, "you seen anyone travelling with some kids?"

Bo gave a curt nod to your partner, a fake grin plastered on his face. “Sorry, ain’t seen anyone round here till you showed up. Maybe someone picked em up?”

“Listen man, y’all are the only folks around for miles. Surely you saw them at some point!” They insisted, two of their posse coming over to flank them.

Bo gave a sympathetic look and shook his head. “‘fraid not. Though I do know the town a few miles north has a hotel. Might'a called for a pickup.”

Your partner seemed to think this over before gesturing to a few of his buddies to load into one of the cars and check it out. With three of the eight guys going, that just left five. Manageable. As one of the trucks pulled out, Bo glanced at the House of Wax not far from where they were. “Listen, I ain’t tryin’a poke my nose in your business but I do know the House of Wax ain't been visited in awhile. It’s got cribs inside, storage reasons. Maybe they’re camping in there.”

That seemed to grab attention, two of the five breaking off to investigate the house. Perfect, Bo thought to himself with a smirk,

Vincent will be waiting for them.

With Lester sneaking around the side, it would be almost effortless to take out the remaining three. Your partner included. So, Bo gave the signal by stepping forward and putting his hand on your partners shoulder with a sympathetic look. “Only wish there was more I could do.”

Gunfire. Lester took a shot from behind the cars and your partner and his remaining buddy whipped their heads around to look just in time for Lester to shoot the friend and gave Bo enough time to knock your partner unconscious. Popping his head up from behind the cars, he grinned at Bo. "Gottem!"

Bo exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, ya did. C'mon, gotta move these fuckers before the others come back."

Lester nodded as he grabbed one of the bodies to help Bo move them. "Ya think Vinny is having as fun a time as we are?" The question was mostly sarcastic. Vincent enjoyed this part of the job way more than any of them. Lester chose to not think too hard about why that may be.

A shrill scream echoing from the House of Wax was as good an answer as any.

Vincent, of course, had killed one of two people sent to the House of Wax. Blood covered his boots as he chased after the last one, a woman, who was shrieking and running to try and escape him. Before she could even get out the door, he was upon her, knocking her to the ground and raising his knives over his head, stabbing down into her neck and killing her almost instantly.

He tilted his head as he watched blood pour from her neck and the life leave her eyes. Gripping the two bodies he'd accumulated, Vincent dragged them out and over to the entrance to the basement. Adding more ways in and out of his workshop had technically been Bo's idea. Vincent needed ways to move about the town without being seen and adding an entrance by the House of Wax simply made sense. Dragging the dead bodies down the stairs into his workroom, he sighed with relief. The sounds of gunshots had confirmed his suspicions that most of the group had to have been dead.

Lester didn't miss.

You sat awake with a harsh jolt at the sounds of gunfire. But, as you looked around your dark room, you figured it was just a dream. Sleep deprived and nervous, of course you'd have weird dreams. Still, you took a moment to just listen carefully. You sat up in bed slowly and looked around.

The boys were still asleep and you slung your legs over the side of the bed and padded towards their carseats slowly. Letting out a shaking exhale, you knelt beside them and watched them, watched the shadows darken their faces and the nightlight cast blue light on their cheeks. You leant forward to press gentle kisses to their foreheads before leaning back and looking around the room.

The room itself looked the same as you'd left it. It was difficult to notice anything off about it but the sight of a knife on the bedside table caught your attention. You stood slowly and approached it cautiously, like it was a startled animal.

You recognized it as Lester's knife immediately.

Unsheathing it from its holster, you flinched at the blood on it. You whispered reminders to yourself that Lester worked with roadkill, of course his knife would be bloody. It still made you shudder.

You heard the front door open and heard voices. Sheathing the knife, you made your way to the door to the bedroom and squinted your eyes when you found it locked. Jiggling the doorknob and knocking on the door didn't help so you called out to the men.

After a few moments, the knob jiggled again and Lester opened the door with a sheepish grin. "Ah, sorry, we were headin' out and we just locked it so ya didn't rob us." He rubbed the back of his neck and wouldn't meet your eyes.

You shot him a raised eyebrow. "Rob you of what exactly?"

Watching Lester's face, you admired the way the yellow light of the hall lamps warped his face. He seemed to ponder something for a moment before shrugging. "Money, things like that. Our mama used to have a lot of jewelry."

Tilting your head, you didn't believe that. Sure, he likely was telling the truth, but something about the way he was standing and avoiding meeting your eyes made you nervous. You could tell he was hiding something but you weren't sure what. "You left your knife here."

Perking up, Lester looked at you before looking around the room. "I did? Shit, sorry, must've been when I came to check on ya before we went out."

You squinted your eyes. "What did you even leave to get?"

"Lester!" You heard Bo call from downstairs, "You helping me and Vince with these or what?!" Lester glanced in the direction of the stairs and motioned for you to follow him. You did so hesitantly and your eyes widened as you looked down the stairs.

Bo and Vincent had hauled two, slightly dirty but useable, cribs. Bo was smirking up at you as Lester made his way down the stairs. "They're in need of a wash," Bo huffed, "but we figured you and the boys could use em while you're here! Had to get em outta storage, sorry we took so long."

You felt your nerves relax and you smiled. "Not an issue! Lester told me about the door thing."

Bo gave you a sympathetic smile as Vincent and Lester grabbed one of the cribs and hauled it out back. "Yeah, sorry. In towns like this, strangers can be a bit... Well, they can have people on edge. Vince was worried about leaving someone we didn't know in the house. Hope you can understand."

You nodded and came down the stairs, careful to shut the bedroom door behind you this time. "Makes sense! It's alright, I'm grateful for what you guys have done for Michael and Peter."

"Ain't no problem!" Lester called to you as he and Vincent came back inside. "Happy to help!"

Bo rolled his eyes at his brother and you snorted. As Lester came closer to grab the other crib with Vincent, you leant up and kissed his cheek in a playful manner. "Well, thanks for your help Lester." You teased before heading to the back door to see the cribs, completely unaware of the dizzy look Lester gave you or the jealous looks his brothers gave him.

The grass in the backyard was damp still so you didn't tread too far into it. The paved walkway that led to the back door was rough on your bare feet as you crept towards the old crib. It seemed decent condition, like the Sinclairs had said, just needed new mattresses and a wash. You wondered if it was really worth all the effort they were going to for you, considering Bo would be helping you fix your car up.

Abruptly aware of how late it was, you turned your head over as Vincent and Bo carried out the second crib. "Have you all gone to bed?" Vincent looked up at you as Bo situated the crib, both of them sharing a glance before looking at you.

"Nah, not yet?" Bo tilted his head as you grabbed both their arms and dragged them into the house.

"You have any idea how late it is?!" You scolded them, pushing the two men into the house and shutting the door as you followed them inside. "The cribs'll still be there in the morning! All three of you need to go to bed now!"

Getting the two of them upstairs was harder work than you thought, like herding cats. Vincent kept signing something about work, according to Lester's translations, while Bo was lying about not being tired yet. Still, you pushed them both into their rooms and threatened to lock them in there if they left. Lester was laughing hysterically through it all, ignoring the death glares from his older brothers.

As you shut the door behind Bo, despite his protests, you turned on Lester who held his hands up placatingly. "I'm gonna sleep, don't worry," he grinned at you. "Got a neat setup downstairs on the couch so if those two wake up I can come get ya." You shot him a playful look and nodded.

"You all deserve sleep, you've been up way too long anyways. I'm not worth that kinda effort." You shrugged before wishing a stunned Lester goodnight and opening the door to the bedroom you'd been lended. Before you could go inside, Lester took your wrist.

"Hey, yeah you do." His voice was soft and his eyes were looking anywhere but you. "You deserve this, we're just the lucky ones who get to spoil ya. You're worth it." The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, Lester looking more at your shoulder than you but you could clearly make out how pink his cheeks were.

You glanced down to where Lester held your wrist and smiled gently. "Well, I appreciate it. The three of you have probably been kinder to me than I deserve, but I really appreciate it." Lester's eyes finally met yours and you tilted your head and stepped closer. "Wish there was something I could do to repay you." You teased gently and giggled at how red Lester went.

He shook his head but you could see the nervous smile he was fighting back. Perv, you thought to yourself endearingly. "N-nah, just glad you ain't mad 'bout being locked in your room."

"So long as I get to keep the knife," you said teasingly. Lester laughed and nodded.

"All yours!" He let go of your wrist and stepped towards the stairs. "Alright, I should probably head to bed." The two of you wished each other goodnight and Lester turned off lights as he went. You watched him go downstairs till he was out of sight, lingering in the doorway of your room for a moment before rubbing your hand over your face, shocked to find how warm your cheeks were.

It was just loneliness, you told yourself quietly. The three Sinclair men had been kind to you and the boys, that's all.

You'd never been a good liar.

The next morning, you woke to the light of the sun hitting your face and making you wince at the brightness. Sitting up in bed, you felt like you'd slept later than you wanted to but wondered why Michael and Peter hadn't woken you up. Glancing around the room, you found the boys missing from their carseats and you were up and out of bed.

Downstairs, you heard voices and laughter. Stepping into the kitchen you found Vincent holding a giggling Peter while Lester seemed to be making a brunch style meal. Bacon and scrambled eggs cooking but seemed to have a fruit salad set out that Bo kept stealing pieces from to give to Michael.

You felt your heart melt.

For the past few years since the boys had been born, you'd been struggling to even get your partner to change their diapers when they'd been little, outright refusing to even spend time with them. You knew that your partner had fallen out of love with you once the kids were born, commenting on how your body had changed and how he had resented Peter and Michael for causing those changes.

Yet, here were three men you'd only met yesterday, happily accepting you and the boys into their lives. Peter and Michael looked happy, which hadn't been a sight you'd seen in quite some time. Michael happily weaving around the mens legs and pausing only to steal fruit from Bo, Vincent being careful while spinning Peter around, and Lester asking Bo if he thought you'd let the kids have chocolate waffles if he made them small enough.

You felt like crying. It felt like home.

You wondered how long you could put off getting your car fixed.

Bo was the first to notice you, giving you a lazy smile before scooping Michael up in his arms, making the rowdy boy giggle and squeal with delight. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you watched Michael grip the material of the black shirt Bo wore in his hands, staring up at him with a toothy smile and pleading with him to turn him upside-down again. "So," Bo finally addressed you, Vincent and Lester turning to glance at you, "Lester's gonna help me tow the car over to the gas station so we can try 'n fix it up. Get ya some gas and see if ya need anythin' else. Vince can take you and the boys to the House of Wax." He set Michael down gently when he started squirming, wanting to come see you.

You knelt down to kiss your sons forehead and let him grip at the sleep pants you wore. "After breakfast?" Your question was more to confirm than request, no way were you venturing out without food first.

Lester spoke up, "Can the kids eat chocolate?" You laughed.

Breakfast was a surprisingly energetic affair. The boys were practically standing in their seats, chatting animatedly about their favorite dinosaurs, favorite foods, and you were pretty sure Peter was asking Vincent about finger painting. The kids didn't seem bothered by Vincent's signing and tried to mimic it to the best of their ability, so the Sinclair twins taught them to sign (sloppily, but they'll get better with practice) the words for "hello", "goodbye", and "no" which they got to varying degrees. Lester made sure to give them plenty of fruit with their mini waffles and he smacked Bo's hand playfully when he tried to drown the kids waffles in syrup.

You locked eyes with Vincent when Lester and Bo started arguing over which dinosaur was the coolest, your sons chiming in with their own opinions.

It felt like home.

Once breakfast was eaten and you'd gotten the boys and yourself dressed, you found the three Sinclairs waiting for you by the door, equally dressed. Lester and Bo got into Bo's truck and took off while Peter was trying to climb up Vincent's leg to be held, which you scolded him for.

"Sorry," you sighed as you peeled your son off Vincent's leg, "he's not usually this clingy..." Vincent shook his head and patted your shoulder, trying to reassure you it was okay. Momentarily, you made a note to yourself to learn sign later. Even if you didn't stay in Ambrose, you figured it would be handy.

You took Michael's hand and followed Vincent towards the House of Wax, letting go only to shift Peter in your arms. "God you're getting heavy," you cooed to him and blew a raspberry on his cheek, "Did Lester feed you bricks instead of berries?" Peter giggled and shook his head.

But when you reached down to take Michael's hand again, he was gone.

"Michael?!" You called and turned around to find the toddler taking off down the street, after something you couldn't see. "Christ, Vincent!" The long haired man turned just in time for you to thrust Peter into his arms and take off after Michael. It wasn't hard, he had short legs, but you were worried about him getting hit by a car!

Scooping him up, you scolded him through his giggles. He kept reaching out to something and pointing. "Dada!" He cooed and you followed his fingers to where he was pointing. Across the street, there was a setup for a gun store. You squinted your eyes and stepped closer to see it.

Sitting cross-legged in only plain boxer shorts was a wax statue of your partner. Antlers were cruelly attached to his head and he seemed to hold a box of ammo in his mouth. You felt a chill run up your spine but you sighed. It was a wax figure, it wasn't really him. "Michael," you explained softly, "it's just a wax man, it's not really-"

You couldn't even get the sentence out before the eyes moved, snapping up towards you.

You felt a scream in the back of your throat but all you let out was a gasp, stepping backwards and hitting something. Vincent was behind you, Peter safe in one arm as he stared at the figure before looking down at you.

Panting heavily, you and Vincent had a staring match. "Vincent," your voice was calm, eerily calm, "what is this?"

He didn't answer.

"Vincent!" Your voice was harsher, Peter squirmed at the sound. "What is this!?"

Slowly, the man stepped forward and wrapped his free arm around you, hugging you close and letting you cry.

He still didn't answer. But you knew.

[dragonmuse]

Hey, that YAILY ask you answered a few anons back, how you mentioned you were trying to figure out how Izzy finds Read. "greasepaint is a bitch to get out of fabric" - what about Izzy tries taking it to dry cleaners, but "hmm, that kid on the other side of the street looks like they’re about to keel over-oh, never mind they did, welp, guess its hospital time. Hey eddy, I'm in the ER, no, no allergies, someone got stabbed. No, not me. anyway, how do feel about having a guest for dinner tonight?"

(ANON ANON YOU ARE A GENIUS! And anon who initially requested this, I hope this at last scratches the itch)

Fridays, Izzy picked up and dropped off the dry cleaning. He was so regular that they usually had it ready for him. The prices was generally astronomical thanks to a million kinds of fabric pressed against his work uniforms, but he paid it unthinkingly. Such was the way of his world.

"Sorry!" Marcus behind the counter called when he came in that day. "We've been overloaded this week, yours is ready, just buried. Give me five?"

Izzy nodded, turning to head back outside. It was a decent day and the smell of the dry cleaners was not a favorite. He cased the street idly. The kid that lingered by the convenience store was there again today. They'd appeared a week or two ago, not quite panhandling, but not refusing the few dollars that Izzy offered as he walked by either.

They were big, for all they folded down small. Smaller than last week. Hm. They were listing a little.

....and there they went. Shit. Izzy pushed off the wall, checked traffic, then hustled across the street.

He squatted down to their side,

"Hey," he said sharply, clearly. "You alive?"

No answer. Shit. He touched them gently, got a pulse and could hear them breathing. There was blood, he realized, soaking through the arm of their shirt at an astounding rate. Clinically, he took out his cell, punched numbers, jammed it between his shoulder and ear even as he got out his knife and started cutting away at their sleeve.

"What's your emergency?" A calm voice asked him,

"Hey, Barb, it's Izzy. I've got a fainter on Broadway, in front of the Sip and Go. Looks like blood loss I'm trying to get at the wound now."

"Why are you calling me?" Barb asked.

"It's my day off. Can I get a bus?"

"Lucky you, huh? Okay, I'm sending someone to your location. Do you know anything about them?"

He glanced at the face, broken nose definitely, along with a split lip.

"No, looks young, white. Underfed." He got the sleeve open and found a wicked, ragged wound. "Cut inflicted by something dull or went in dirty. They're going to need stitches, tetanus shot and probably a blood bag. Who's on duty?"

"Deb and Skunk are on their way to you."

"Great, thanks."

The cops always showed to scenes, but Deb and Skunk were a good smokescreen. They showed, got the kid on a stretcher and in the bus, Izzy still putting pressure on the wound until Skunk took over. The cops would get a bare bones statement later.

They didn't come to on the way to the hospital and being unconscious got you some privileges. They were whipped away past the waiting room. An hour later, one of the nurses that he knew well let him into the room.

"No ID," the nurse told him solemnly. "They've been sleeping rough, if I had to guess. There's a shelter that we can direct them too when they're up and about."

"Yeah, good," Izzy nodded.

Eddy: where'd you go to get the dry cleaning? Russia?

Izzy: in the er. not for me. kid passed out on the sidewalk. blood loss. must've been in a hell of a fight.

Eddy: you took them in?

Izzy: wasn't going to just leave them.

Eddy: ok. no dry cleaning?

Izzy: going to stay until they wake up at least.

That wasn't too long a wait. Eyelids fluttered open a few minutes later followed by a bone deep groan. Izzy waited until they'd sat up a little, oriented themselves.

"Am I in the fucking hospital?" they groaned.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you free bleed everywhere like a dipshit," Izzy leaned back in the chair, relieved that they seemed with it. "Who beat your face in?"

"I beat their face in," they said, a vicious undercurrent in their voice that he appreciated vastly.

"Got learn how to duck then."

"Who are you?" they asked warily.

"Lucky you, a bystander who moonlights as an EMT. Izzy Hands. You?"

"Read."

"You got somewhere to go home to, Read? Because the nurses are going to come back with pamphlets, tissues and questions."

They shifted, looked away.

"Sure I do."

"Uh huh."

He stayed while the nurses came in, then the doctors. Then the cops. He didn't say much. All he learned was her pronouns, and that she did not, in fact, have an address to provide. She gave nothing away about the fight and stonewalled them at every turn.

Izzy: she's homeless

Eddy: fuck, fine. I'll make the guest bed. where was all this sainthood in our twenties?

Izzy: drowned by the booze probably

Eddy: pickled. I'm leaving for the bar in an hour.

Izzy: probably miss you entirely then. see you on monday.

Read argued about going home with him right up until the nurse asked about calling a family member and then all of a sudden, Izzy was a dear family friend as it turned out. He had to leave to get the car and she was waiting in the parking lot when he got back.

"Grabbed your bag," he pointed in the backseat and relief passed over her face.

The further out they got, the tenser she went, but there wasn't much he could do for that. It was warm out, and the garden was in full bloom as he pulled up the drive. The sight of that seemed to ease her a little.

"This your work?"

"Nah, that's Eddy."

"Eddy is your..."

"Spouse. But they're with their boyfriend this weekend," he could generally say that in a neutral tone these days. Practice made mediocrity or something.

"Oh," Read settled on and followed him inside.

He got her set up in the guest room, pointed out the bathroom then made himself scarce. She falls asleep before he can get dinner into her.

Read haunted the house that weekend. He left food out for her, lets her maintain her space. He spent a lot of time outside. On Sunday, Lucius called and Izzy caught him up.

"You took in a stray?"

"Seemed like the thing to do," he meandered through the vegetable patch.

"Did it? Look at you. Very cute. What will you do with her?"

"Dunno if she'll let me do jack shit, but she needs help."

"She's staying, that means something."

Eddy came home on Monday morning in a great mood. She was singing to herself, and came to find him right away.

"Where's the girl?" Eddy wound an arm around Izzy's waist.

"In the guest room, probably," he stepped in closer.

Eddy kissed him, other hand sinking into his hair and Izzy just managed to switch off the burner before losing himself in it.

"Oh, shit, sorry," someone said and Eddy broke off with a soft sigh, turning.

"No worries," she shoved off Izzy, and held out a hand. "Eddy."

"Read," Read said tightly. "I was um. I'm going to-"

And she was gone.

"What the fuck?" Eddy glanced back at Izzy.

"No idea. She's skittish."

Skittish enough that Izzy caught her headed for the door later that night.

"You going to walk to town?" He asked from the couch and watched her jump about a foot in the air.

"Shit," she muttered.

"If you've got somewhere, I'll give you a ride," he offered mildly. "But otherwise that's a long fucking stumble in the dark."

"I can't stay," she lifted her pack a little.

"Why not?" Her eyes flicked up the stairs. "Eddy?"

Read looked at him miserably, not saying a word.

"Iz?" Eddy called down the stairs, "Where's the- oh! Never mind, found it."

"What about them?"

Read only shook her head, moved closer to the door.

"Shit, fine, hold on," Izzy got out his phone.

Group Text: THEM

Izzy: one twenty-something idiot needs temporary housing asap

Lucius: re-homing already?

Izzy: she doesn't want to stay, but it's us or the street so someone better pony the fuck up

Jim: she can stay on our futon

Roach: that's cruel and unusual punishment.

Jim: what about your place then?

Roach: fuck no.

Stede: It's not very large, but I have Alma's room if she'd like it.

Izzy hesitated, watched the way Read stood in the moonlight, ready to bolt. Not the fucking time.

Izzy: fine. we'll be there in an hour.

"Your lucky day," he told her, getting up. "Give me five. You've got a bed in the city."

"That's where I was headed," she said quietly. "I can get work there."

"Stede'll give you a job. And anything else your want if you turn those big blues on him. He's a fucking soft touch."

He went upstairs. Eddy was in their closet, putting away laundry.

"I saw the texts," they said, not looking up. "It's me, huh?"

"She's scared shitless of you," he agreed.

"Smart girl," she smoothed down the folds of a t-shirt, voice tight.

"Hey," Izzy stepped in closer. "Not like you did anything."

"No, I know," Eddy brushed hair back from her forehead. "Honestly, I didn't want her here anyway. But...still. Doesn't feel great."

"You'll win her over," Izzy said with certainty. "Everyone always winds up liking you better than me."

"That's cause you're an incurable asshole," she smiled at him touched his wrist. "But I think maybe not this time."

"Every time," he countered and kissed her cheek. "I'll drive her in."

Stede was waiting and Izzy could practically taste Read's relief at the sight of the man, about as threatening as a loofah. Izzy didn't bother telling her how dangerous Stede was in his own right. She needed to believe she was safe and she was. Good enough.

"You're not headed straight back home?" Stede frowned as Izzy lingered in the door, watching Read run a hand over the velvet couch.

"Yeah," he said readily. "I am."

"But-"

"Eddy," Izzy shrugged.

"Oh. Yes. I suppose..."

They stared helplessly at each other. It wasn't a bridge Izzy could bring himself to build, but once and a great long while, he appreciated looking over the valley anyway. To see someone else that had a general idea of the circumstance,

"Night, Bonnet. Night, Read."

"Good night," Read stepped towards him then stopped. "Thanks. For everything."

Izzy went home to crawl into bed with Eddy. He knew he was a living reminder of the past, but he could kiss her the way they did now. Be a reminder of the now too.

And he was right, of course. Eddy won Read over though it took months and a red head and the kind of night Izzy thought he'd never see again.

Read technically had a terrible little room that she would tell everyone was her home address, but after that, she lived scattershot between Bonnet's studio, Izzy and Eddy's house and sometimes even on Jim's terrible futon. It was only when Anne and her started both making a reasonable living that she genuinely had her own place. Even then, often she'd drive out on Izzy's bike (her bike now really, Izzy never needed it) and invade the kitchen for supper.

"Your kid is eating my leftovers," Eddy would inform him tartly when he got off a late shift.

"Uh huh," Izzy would laugh at her. "And you could've stopped her at literally any point."

"She was hungry," Eddy would grumble.

Read would make it up to them in the morning, weeding down rows of flowers tirelessly at Eddy's side. Izzy would watch them idly from the porch, Lucius sometimes there too, feet in Izzy's lap. The world was a strange and wonderful place some days.

[rat-cigars]

Damn Bitch You live like this?

Masterlist

(a/n: hope you guys enjoy this one! Please be aware this chapter is 18+ . This is Setting up the base for the main canon is gonna start in these next few chapters. There will be slight time jumps to get through a few months. )

*= Edward POV)

**= Reader POV)

(TW: religious images, blood, puke mention, drinking, smoking, idk party stuff, stalking, Incel moment, Verbal Altercation, yelling, En grabs F!R arm.) )

Possible Spoilers in this chapter

Afab!Reader (she/her) pronouns

WC: 1378

Chapter 6: A cigarette.

* He watched the room swirl as you continued talking to Ron and his pals. He wasn't worried about them though, he looked to where Bruce Wayne had just left.

Edward knew you guys were only friends for now, but he still felt the jealous rage boil in his stomach, or maybe it was the 16 shots of Patron.

Because shortly after having the idea he couldn't help but keel over as he threatened to spill the drinks back up.

He hurriedly ran out the closest side door, movingly quite sloppily. You had noticed and chosen to follow him, how cute. You really must've liked him especially right now.

“Here's some water,” you offered him a glass, sitting down beside him on the ground.

“Thank you.” he said pretty quietly again. “Edward, why did you seem to get upset after I talked to Bruce?” You teased him, chuckling. “What? You got a crush on me?” you laughed, your pink cheeks rising with your smile. Cleary you'd had too many drinks right along with him.

Edward froze up again, looking away from your gaze. “I-I just don't like him.. His family is the reason I have to live at the hotel.” he grumbled.

“But why..? He doesn't really do.. Well anything. No good or bad.” you smiled, trying to reach a middle ground with him. You pulled your coat more over you, feeling a chill.

Edwards gaze burned into the side of your head as you focused on the ground.

“What the fuck do you mean?” He laughed, it was the first time you'd heard this laugh from him. But there was a darkness behind it, a growl in his voice now when he spoke. “I knew you were pretty, but gullible too?” he stood from the ground, towering beside you.

“Edward-” you had started to speak a little hurt by his words, but that's when he cut you off. Again he laughed and leaned down to you. “You don't know shit about The Waynes.” his brows furrowed a little upset clearly. “I really thought you were different, but I guess not, huh?” He leaned closer, maybe only a few inches away from your face his green eyes burned into you. “Wake the fuck up.” was all he said before turning away, standing straight again. Not even waiting to see your reply or reaction.

**You hadn't felt unsafe around him before but at this moment you were terrified of Edward. You stayed closer to the ground, unsure how it had become such a rough topic for him. “I-I'm gonna head inside..” you said it almost with a whimper.

You stood slowly, staying put for a second. You still tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

This wasn't the man you'd met, the man you'd invited to the mixer, it wasn't the man who had caught you in his arms like a fairytale. In that moment before it was like a switch had turned, showing this more aggravated side of Edward.

Starting to walk off seeing as he hadn't said anything, he suddenly grabbed your wrist, the white fur contrasting his usually paper pale skin.

You were ready to swat him off but that's when you looked at his face. It was the most pitiful face you'd ever seen. His nose dribbled slightly with snot and tears poured from his eyes, his cheeks puffed up a bit.

“I'm sorry..” He whispered, only loud enough for you. “I just don't trust him.”

You internally sighed, knowing the same had been said about Edward. “I really like you.. I don't wanna mess this up..” he sniffled pulling you closer. You hugged him back and leaned up kissing his cheek.

“Edward, I think I like you too but.. This.” you motioned to the both of you. “This scares me a little. I just wanted to talk to you but now I think I should be heading home.” You sighed gently reaching for his hand, you wrote something down, a phone number. “Listen, text me tomorrow. I just think I need to go home..” you turned and he looked down at the numbers, quickly starting to plug them in his phone.

You walked to the backroom grabbing your bag, but you didn't really bother changing. Whether you'd been too drunk to care or too emotional, it didn't matter. You headed out through a side exit, an alleyway between the two buildings, as you came out though you didn't expect to see him again. “Mr.Wayne?” you squinted trying to see his features better. “Oh, y/n.” he said flatly. “What are you doi-” you looked down to his hand and couldn't help but let out a childish laugh at the cigarette in his hand. You must've been a little loud though because Edward could hear you, and Bruce had set his other hand gently over your mouth for a moment.

*Catching the sudden cut of laughs Edward's mind went frantic, leading to him climbing the other fire escape on the other side of the building. He didn't dare stand and watch though, he slowly worked to the end of the roof and looked down spotting you.

But there was another figure next to you he couldn't make out. Probably Ron or one of his friends shrugged and continued to watch. He could tell you were both being friendly, he huffed watching, a little bored of the conversation he couldn't even hear.

He rolled away for a moment, he had started to sober up from the long party. Ed then turned his head hearing the click of your heels against the concrete.

Thats when he saw Bruce Wayne was walking next to you, his arm lightly holding you up as you stumbled to your complex with him. He glared daggers into the back of his black hair as he helped you. The burn at his eyes caused Ed to kick the side of the roof edge as you walked off with him. He felt truly pathetic, just letting you leave with the one person he didn't want you to see. In his anger he had started to still, becoming almost zombie-like as he stared blankly in the general direction of your apartment.

Bruce couldn't keep you two apart, I mean fate had tossed her literally into Edwards arms. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses, wiping his tear stained cheeks and the dirt off of his outfit. He kept his blank stare as he walked down past the party, everything seemed to be a blur, probably from the tears still rimming his lids.

Ron noticed him as he walked by everyone, but Edward didn't even notice the man watching him. Storming straight to his room he opened his door rough, slamming into the drywall. Not even flinching he continued in, locking the door behind him and that's when his inspiration struck. He curled his lips into a devious grin, walking to his desk. He began work, opening on his notepads; he wrote your name at the top, layering in his collective pictures of you. Some from high school yearbooks, others from college and the cameras he had hidden in your apartment. He had decided on how he would protect his goddess, his reason for life.

[tsuki-sennin]

Reviiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice

We're approaching the end of the world. ...for like the... 23rd time in a row. And it falls to us to save it! All on Kamen Rider Revice, Episode 35! ...I uh... heard through the grapevine that there was a bit of an anti-climax, but hopefully it should still be fun! Spoilers, I guess...

-Ah yes, Daiji getting sonned every episode.

-Hikaru-kun! ...you uh... aren't

-Oh, Dad's too tired, huh? Must've been out drinking again.

-"Despair into nothingness! Despair into your tomorrow! Despair into your memories!"

-"You wouldn't hurt your Uncle Hide, would you, Dai-chan~? :3"

-Man, say what you will about Akaishi, but Jun Hashimoto's really giving it his best. Easily one of the best performances in the whole show.

-Oh, I see Akaishi got glowy eyes in the intro. ...they were probably there the whole time but I missed them lmao.

-Y'know man, I'm starting to think Fenix is a lost cause.

-Man, the quietness of these shots... masterpiece, I tell you.

-I'm surprised you can breathe after all that, man.

-I love how Ikki's first bit of dialogue towards Vice makes him think he's in trouble. That's some powerful vulnerability right there.

-"Ooooooh, I wish I could kick those guys asses for you, Sakura."

-"But you know I'm unbeatable, right?"

-Weird to get quality gay stuff right after that intense chat, but...

-Guess we gotta beat them up.

-Keeling over for Gifu is hardly a better alternative to dying at Akaishi and Vail's hands, but considering the Deadmans' reach, I wouldn't be surprised if the vote was swayed in their favor.

-"Hikaru-kuuuuun :D"

-"Go away >:("

-"Oh okay, I'll sit here then, haha :)"

-Man, Tamaki's really doing his best for us all. God bless.

-That's right, Hikaru-kun! Even an ordinary joe schmoe like you can inspire change~!

-"Wow, they don't even think we're annoying, that stings :("

-If they overwhelm us by refusing to play fair, then why should we?

-"I'm worried about you, Daiji. There's"

-So, a side effect of Kagerou's disappearance seems to be that Daiji's unwilling to "cheat" his way to saving everyone. And that's clouding his judgement on what his goals even are.

-"Mmmmmmm, Akaishi juice."

-Wow, Akaishi's really got his deal on lock. He didn't even hesitate to take the stamp off.

-Fuuuuuck, that Gifu suit is scary.

-"Hey uh.... you're not gonna ditch me, right Ikki?"

-He doesn't even wanna do bad things aaaaaaaaah

-Man... taming and ditching the toxic traits you inherit from your cruel father to become a kinder person and follow your dreams... that's a powerful character arc.

-Unwavering in his principles, Daiji Igarashi chooses to fight on as he prepares one more plan.

-Uhhhhhh, Daiji, I know you've been pretty reckless these past few episodes, but this is a bit much, isn't it? I mean, Akaishi's been at this for a long time, I think attacking him on camera is a stupid idea, especially if your plan is just to expose him. This guy's literally bullet proof.

-"Ohhhhh, boy Dai-chan~! I can't wait for you to witness Uncle Hide's super epic livestream~! Eeeeeverybody's gonna tune in~!"

-Oh my god, I was just kidding, what the hell was that Apollo Geist looking-ass motherfucker's walk lol

-Man, those shots...

-oH my god, he's making Daiji protect him on air to make his point.

-Oh my god, the fake panicking.

-"IT'S HIM! IT'S HIIIIIM! HE'S HERE!"

-HE ATE THEM ALL

-INSTANTLY

-"Heeeeey, son~!"

-"FUCK YOU DAD, WE'RE GONNA KICK YOUR ASS!"

-Go for it, everyone!

-Ultimate Raid Boss Gifu-sama.

-"AHHHHHHH-"

-"OHhhhhhh nooooo, I'm dyyyyying~!"

-That was a masterful false flag op, goddamn.

-Oooooooh, they gettin' artifacted!

-Holy shit that looks painful.'

-Aaaand, down goes Skybase!

-Just like that.

-"We... lost... blegh..."

-Ohhhhh, here he comes!

-Kuwagata? Stag Beetle!

-Gattack? :o

-Over Demons.

-Huh... it's Vail's awesome Kabuto Armor put over the Demons undersuit... I saw a lot of people complaining about the design when it was first revealed, but I kinda warmed up to it, actually. I like the contrast of the colors, the way the

-Uh, yeah, Gifu's just here now. With Akemi and Vail too. Surprise~!

-Hikaru got approval from his fake dad :)

-"Fuck it, we're going public. C'mon Weekenders, let's fight for humanity without regrets!" -Masumi Karizaki

-Daiji, c'mon man.

-Aaaaand, Kuwagata. Only three new stamps left.

-Okay, I don't... hate the idea that Hikaru becomes the new Demons, the way a lot of people seem to. Sure, I would've preferred it if Hiromi finally came back, or even if George decided to grapple with his desire to wear the Driver, but Hikaru's not the worst new Rider I can think of. I understand you may be disappointed, but honestly I'm for this. Any development with Hikaru is welcome, since if he's gonna be a fixture of the cast, he at least should be more interesting than he is. The last time I checked his character entry on TV Tropes, he had one trope associated with him. Now, that is by no means an accurate or full assessment of his character, but he could stand to have some dimension beyond "Ohhhh fuuuuuuck, Sakura!"

-Next episode!

-FUCKERS TOOK TAMAKI, CAN'T HAVE SHIT IN DETROIT

-Looks like Gen-chan's back~!

-Ooooooooh, Tamaki-kun transforms! :O

-...at least, I hope this isn't a fakeout.

-Is that the... Buffalo Stamp? That's based on OOO, isn't it? Good taste, man!

-Wait, no, IS THAT A RETOOLED LIBERA DRIVER?! :OOO

-YOOOOO

-Okay, I think that our next Stamp Sheet Mark is, indeed, Buffalo. That just leaves us two left to wonder about.

-I have a few theories about what those may be.

Assuming the new Libera Driver-like belt isn't just for Tamaki, and is part of some mass production plan like the Demons Driver was said to be last episode, I'm willing to bet we get to see Hana be a Rider at some point, with her own Vistamp. Notice how the plastic flame thingy on the driver kinda looks like dripping honey, and Hana used to use the Queen Bee Vistamp... I'd be very down for that, by the way. It might be a KickHopper/PunchHopper kinda deal, or like Haruto's Mage apprentices in Wizard where they're working directly under Sakura and learning from her as they fight alongside her. My question is though... if Hana and Tamaki are indeed both becoming Riders in the coming episodes, is this Driver made specifically for former Giftexes with terminated contracts? Or are there perhaps more adorable marketable inner demons that we can take advantage of? Are we gonna see my man's true hidden buffalo calf spirit? Did he transform his fursona?

Kagerou makes a surprise return! Not in the next episode, obviously, but I do think he, and by extension Evil, will be coming back in some form. Toei has a history of letting badass mechanics go underutilized, but the way Kinoshita's writing Daiji being so singleminded on doing things as morally as possible, I do believe that a return from Evil is indeed likely.

They fill out Hikaru as Over Demons's Genomixes. This is probably the one I'd enjoy the least, considering how many are already available for Hikaru to use, but I think it is also unfortuately very likely. Like I said, I don't hate Hikaru as Demons, but I'd like him to prove himself before he gets any more fancy upgrades.

The Ultimate Revice Stamp (working title). This is pretty self-explanatory, this would be in the final twelve or so episodes, where Ikki and Vice fully affirm their partnership and go Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan Ultra Instinct Ego or whatever. I think this is a certainty, but hey, maybe Toei will surprise me.

Gifu's Personal Vistamp for when he becomes the final boss Rider. I'm not trying to predict the show's endgame or anything like that, but I will say, I do think Akaishi solidifying his contract with Gifu in a way reminiscent of Ikki and Vice would make a really cool finale stretch.

Anyways, enough theories from me, SomecallmeJohnny uploaded a big video of him reviewing a bunch of crappy licensed games sent to him by fans over the years. Sorry, this is way more important to me than the world being destroyed by demons.

[bookfan101]

It Will Be Alright

My day was going perfectly: I had my favourite lesson – history- and got a pretty good score on my maths exam. This was before PE though.

"Yes Percy! You can do it! " Annabeth cried from the bleachers waving a massive poster with 'PERCY!' written on it. I was playing my semi-final basketball game of the season and she and Jason had come to cheer me on; Mum and Paul were at a work conference they couldn't miss. I waved back, giving her a small smile before getting back into the game. We had five minutes left and were up 2-0 when it happened.

I was in defence, blocking the other team from the hoop, when a huge guy called Kevin Schmidt wacked the ball over to the other side of the court. Luckily I managed to deflect it, but not without injuring myself. The ball had hit my hand so hard it bent my hand back. I keeled over in excruciating pain, holding my hand as if it were a baby. I got kind of dizzy so I didn't notice the guys had run over to me to check I was okay.

"Percy?! Percy, can you hear me?! " I looked up at Annabeth for a few seconds with a blank look on my face before it registered who it was. "Oh gods," I moaned in pain, feeling a deep throb all down my arm. My right arm as well. Just my luck.  "Percy can you stand up? " This time it was my history teacher, Miss Harris who asked the question, putting her hand on my back. " Um, yeah, I just need a, uh, shower. " By this time the game had already ended, regardless of an injured player, so it would've been okay for me to go.

" If you're sure," She looked rather surprised but agreed nonetheless. "Jason, can you help him over?" He nodded quickly, put his arm around my waist and stood me up, walking over to the locker room.

"Hey man, " He said when we got there. "Do you, er, need any... help?" He looked at the mouldy tiles on the floor. "Just my shirt." He relaxed considerably at that. Thank the gods, he whispered to himself. Taking off my shirt was a feat with two people, let alone one, but eventually I wriggled out of it. He then said, " I'm going to talk to Annabeth outside, shout if you need me. " I nodded and quickly slipped off my shorts. I turned the shower on and let it wash over me.

Much to my surprise, the water didn't help. Like at all. Maybe it had but it hurt to much for me to realise. I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist and walked over to my locker. It was much harder to open left-handed than I thought. After a while, it finally opened so I grabbed my clothes and sat down on a bench, trying to figure out how to put them on. Soon I was fully dressed in my khaki shorts, white t-shirt and my hi-tops. I just tucked the laces into the sides.

Emerging from the locker room, I saw Annabeth and Jase talking in the corner of the court. I had started walking over to them when she saw me over Jason's shoulder and ran over to me. "Are you okay Perce? Did the water work? " She asked hurriedly. I shook my head. "Not that I noticed." Crap, she muttered under her breath. "Guess I'll be taking you to the ER then?" Jason asked getting his car keys out. I nodded tiredly. My arm was really hurting now. Whatever the water had done to help, had gone. "It's okay, I'll pick your car up later." He told me, patting my other shoulder. Annabeth had her arm wrapped around me protectively.

She sat in the backseat with me, keeping me company. "How bad is it? " She whispered in my ear. "Bad." I mouthed back. She gave me a sad look and snuggled up closer to me. Before I could snuggle back, Jason announced we were here. "It's gonna be okay." I heard her say quietly. Whether it was to me or herself, I didn't know.

It didn't take long to be seen by a doctor. Thankfully there was hardly anyone there, because I had no idea how much longer I could stand the pain.

"So how did you injure you hand?" The doc asked, feeling the bones in my hand and wrist. "It was during- ah ah- basketball." I said, exclaiming as she hit a painful spot. "The opponent threw it so hard it bent my hand back." "My god!" She looked really concerned. "I'm going to need to take some X-Rays. Where are your parents?" She asked, writing some notes. "Poughkeepsie." I told her wincing slightly. "They're at a conference." She nodded, writing this down.

"Do you have a number for them?" She asked, and I recited the number like mom had taught me to do in an emergency. "Someone from radiography will be down soon, and I'll get a nurse to give you something g for the pain." I gave my thanks and she left the room. Then Annabeth and Jase walked in and kept me company until it was time to go upstairs.

Finally, mom and Paul got here so the doctor could tell them the results. Wise girl and Jason had to wait outside. "It doesn't look very good I'm afraid. Percy has broken the base of his fourth metatarsal and cracked the hamate and lunate bones in his wrist. Do you have any questions?" I gripped mums hand tightly, panic starting to take over. "What about basket ball?" I asked. "It's finals next week." She looked down at my chart nervously. "I'm sorry, but you won't be able to play for the next two and a half to three months. I will come back to do your cast in a few minutes." She swiftly left the room. I dropped my grip on mums hand, letting it fall next to her. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry. " I heard her say in the background. It was like I had cotton wool in my ears. She bent down for a hug, but I stopped her before she could get any closer. "I, er, want to be alone." I choked out, tears brimming. "Don't let them come in." She knew who I meant. She nodded and quickly left the room, Paul tagging along behind. "It'll be okay." He whispered before closing the door. Moments later, the tears started to fall.

A few minutes later like the doc said, there was a knocking on the door, bringing me out of my pity party. "Percy? Can I come in?" I furiously started wiping my eyes before letting her in. "Hey. I've come for your cast." I nodded understanding. "This is going to hurt, just to warn you." And it did. I liked her because she didn't lie to me. Oh and she was hot. But anyways. Fifteen minutes later, she asked me what colour I wanted. I told her green, wincing through the sharp pains. "The colour of your eyes." She said dreamily. Then she looked up with wide eyes. "Excuse me,,I need to check on something." She probably thought she said that in her head. Nevermind. With my left hand, I called mum from my phone.

"Mum?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Can you ask them to leave? I don't want them to see me like this."

"Sure," she said sadly. "I'll come in when they've gone."

"Okay."

"What about Paul?"

"Can he go as well?"

"Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Thanks."

Soon mum came in looking upset. "What's up?" I asked, scrutinizing her expression. "They won't think any differently of you." I took a deep breath. "I just can't deal with them right now. Right now I want my mum." Tears starting to spill from her eyes, she rushed over and hugged me so hard, I thought I was going to suffocate. "It'll be alright baby." She sniffled into my shoulder. We sat like that for a while before driving home.

When we got there I went straight to my room and locked it. I wanted to get properly upset - I couldn't in hospital. I started telling and throwing things, and a couple of minutes later mum came up, knocking on my door. "Honey," she said. "Can I come in?" I didn't answer so she unlocked the door herself. She gasped when she saw me. I could feel the tear stains down my cheeks and my hair must've been a mess. She came over silently and pulled me into another hug.

"They'll be picking for scholarships next week," I cried into her. "I'm not going to have any chance!" I cried for a while, mum occasionally shushing me. "It will be alright. "

AN - I'm British so I don't know if they actually do things like that in PE so don't hate me! Find me on wattpad and fanfiction.net as Sugababe20!