#even with the hostage situation of the archives mixed in

[fallingupdownsideways]

Georgie: I won't turn myself into a martyr for someone who won't try

Martin K. Blackwood, Who Has Never Met a Healthy Boundary In His Life: Dont speak to me or my codependent monster crush ever again

[whumpiary]

36: bite my muse for tucker cause i’d definitely bite him or let him bite me…🧍🏽‍♀️

I know this was a while back anon but just for you, a bite and a bite back. From the unnecessary Tucker backstory archives. Which makes this baby’s first beating 🥰

content warnings: hostage situation, intimate whumper, mixed gender violence

-

“Please.”

Tucker doesn’t even pause scrolling let alone look up from his phone. She’s been trying it for about twenty minutes now.

“Please, please, please, just let me go.”

She’s gone through the cycle now. Sweet talking, bargaining, fear-mongering, and now she’s straight on to begging, voice pitched high and pathetic.

“Please, I want to go home. I just want to go home. I’ll do anything you want. Pl-“

“You say please one more time and I’m gonna tie you up tighter just out of spite.”

Becks gives up on the shtick quick, head lolling back against the back of the chair in frustrated defeat. She’s never really been great at perseverance in all the time Tucker’s known her. Never really been very good at playing sweet either. It’s cute that she gave it a try all the same.

Instead, she goes back to bargaining, “Don’t suppose there’s any point in me trying to seduce you?”

Tucker laughs without looking up. At least she has a sense of humour about the whole thing.

He likes Becks. Always did. But she was a dumbshit and now she had to face the consequences. Simple as that.

And part of those consequences meant Tucker wasn’t gonna give her shit. Not least of all because he was having to give up is Saturday night to babysit because Mal was too soft hearted to be left alone with his ex.

She’s still trying it on though. Over and over and over again…

“TJ, come on.”

He hums. “I’d watch yourself with that one if I were you.”

“Just tell them we were fighting or some shit and I got away.”

“They won’t believe that.”

“Why not? They know I fight.”

“Yeah and they know I don’t,” he sighs. “I don’t do violence.”

Becks snorts. “How very moral of you.”

“Not really, I just don’t like getting my hands dirty.”

“Won’t get your hands dirty but you’ll do their accounts.”

“I just get the numbers,” he shrugs. “As far as I know— ” He splays a hand out to gesture to the empty unit they’re sitting in, pristine but for the gutted kitchen. “—all they’re selling is houses.”

“As if the cops are gonna believe that.”

“Well you’d know a bit more than me about what the cops would and wouldn’t believe, wouldn’t you Becks?”

She glares at him a moment but rolls her eyes not long after. She’s getting a little exasperated now. Cute.

“Fine. No fight,” Becks concedes. “Just say I lied about needing the bathroom or something then kicked you in the dick and got away that way.”

“Mmm, you’re right, it’ll be so much better for me if I come across as incompetent and incapable as well as weak.”

Becks groans, head rolling back again in frustration. “Come on, TJ.”

“Strike two.”

“You’re her son. It’s not like you’re gonna be the one facing the consequences.”

He snorts and finally glances up at her over his glasses, “You have actually met Lillian, right?”

Becks scoffs and sighs and from the corner of his eye Tucker can see her flexing her arms against the tension of the zip ties holding her. The muscle tee she’s wearing is doing shit all to hide the strain in the tendons. Must be aching like a bitch.

“TJ-”

“Rebecca,” he mocks back in a sing-song.

“Don’t.”

He shrugs, “You started it.”

He hears another groan, sees a put-upon flip back of her head from his periphery. “Tucker.”

He responds as though he’s only just heard her, thumb sliding away the whole time. “Mm?”

It seems to take a beat for her to realise that she’s going to have to keep competing for his attention with his phone screen. She tuts her tongue and kicks her foot out, too far away from the nearby table to actually hit it. They were lucky there was still a bit of furniture in this joint, actually. Last owner must’ve died or something. Kids couldn't be bothered selling everything.

“C’mon I’ve been like this for hours.”

“Uh-huh.”

“My arms are cramping.”

“I bet.”

“And my butt is numb.”

“So?”

“So it would be really nice to stretch for five minutes.”

He glances up again, lips curling in a smirk. “You really do think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“I was just hoping for a bit of fuckin’ empathy.”

Tucker tuts his tongue disapprovingly and pouts. “Wrong twin, Becks, you know that.”

Becks glares at him. “Mal’s about as empathetic as period cramps.”

Tucker laughs and goes back to his phone. Most people’d probably gawk at that call but Becks, of all people, would know, wouldn’t she? He always hated that. Smile and a wink and Mal could get away with anything. He could steal a baby and eat it on camera and people would still defend him.

What? You mean the shining, go-lucky golden child has a selfish side? A mean streak? Drinks too much and steals from homeless shelters? Convinces your kid to do the same drugs he’s doing for a laugh and then pockets the profit? Surely that wouldn’t be Mal. Not smiling, joking, sunshiney Mal. Definition of a good guy. Just there for a good time.

At least with Becks there was very little pretense.

“Can I use the bathroom at least?”

“You can piss yourself for all I care.”

“Yeah but then you’ll have to clean it up.”

Tucker glances up over his glasses. Becks raises a you wanna try me? eyebrow. He sighs rolls his eyes. For fucks sake. Fine.

He stands. Pockets his phone. Closes the gap across the near-empty living room.

Everything happens ridiculously fast.

The second he cuts the cable ties around Becks’ wrists, she’s punching him in the gut. Tucker grunts and shoves, the heel of Becks hand slams up towards his nose. He grabs at her arm. She grabs at his middle finger. She wrenches it back until he yelps and lets her go.

He just barely manages to grab her by a fistful of her tee as she runs, the cheap fabric tearing at the seam on one side as he yanks her back against the chair. He can already feel blood stuffing his nose, overflowing, running down over his lip. If she’s broken his fucking nose he’s going to gut her on the kitchen floor.

She stamps his foot. He slams his knee into her gut. He grabs her hair. She grabs his arm. Her teeth sink into the flesh below his elbow.

“You fucking-“

Rage, pure and white hot, burns right in the centre of his chest in a brilliant flare as he slaps her. She bit him? She fucking bit him? Ferocious little shit. Fucking animal.

He twists the hand in her hair and yanks her head to the side. He brings his mouth to the juncture of her neck. He doesn’t think. Just retaliates. Sinks his teeth in.

Becks’ yell is piercing and too close to his ear but it makes him feel electric. He pins her thigh with his knee, one hand in her hair, one hand clawed over her shoulder, keeping her seated. She thrashes like something dying. He keeps his jaws clamped tight. Feels his teeth break skin. Tastes blood. Hears grunt turn to scream.

It’s sharp and hot. It’s metallic and shining.

It lights him the fuck up. Toes to teeth.

“Stop,” Becks’ voice is shrill and girlish, completely unlike the apathetic, low monotone she usually keeps it at. She beats at his chest. “Stopstopstop. You’re hurting me, you’re fuck- You’re hurting me.”

He releases his jaw and pulls back, grabbing her wrist while she grabs at her neck.

“You’re fucking feral.”

Tucker grins and shoves his arm in her face in manic defence, the bite mark she gave him a pitiful indentation compared to the wound on her neck. “You started it.”

Becks recoils from her own handwork. “Your face is fucked up, shit lord.”

Tucker frowns, bringing his hand up to touch under his nose, smudging blood with his fingers as he pulls them back to see it, red and glistening. His tongue flicks out to taste it, leaking down onto his top lip. Sharp, metallic, hot.

Fucking hot.

He hadn’t even felt it.

He laughs and licks the blood clean from his lips, from his fingers. What a rush. What a fucking treat. Without a glance in her direction, he curls his hand, still glistening with blood and saliva, into a fist and punches Becks in the face. It’s hard enough that the chair knocks backwards, onto two legs then to one, then to none, crashing to the floor spectacularly.

Tucker's fist hurts. His face hurts. He can’t stop grinning. He hasn’t felt this buzzed in months. Years. Ever.

Shit he feels good.

On the ground, Becks has her head tilted back against the tiles, gravity craning her neck along the back on the chair. Tucker crosses the few steps between them and crouches down by her face, taking her in. It’s like drinking good wine without knowing what’s meant to be the good parts. Just knowing that it’s fucking delicious.

Blood is smeared down Becks’ neck, over her hand where she’d held the wound before falling. Her wrists are red from pulling against the zipties for hours. Her hair, dark and choppy, splays out behind her like a dead bird. Her mouth gapes wide, desperately searching for air that was clearly locked out of her when she fell.

His thoughts flash briefly to Billy Laudner back in high school. On his knees behind the bike shed, cheeks flushed and lips parted. It’s nearly the same thrill. Something you know you shouldn’t be doing with someone you know you shouldn’t be touching. Flesh on flesh. Blood running hot.

He brushes Becks’ hair back from her forehead like he’d brushed Billy’s back before pushing him onto his back on the tanbark. Unlike Billy Laudner, Becks recoils from his touch. How fun.

To Tucker’s dismay, her nose isn’t quite bleeding, though her sinuses are probably clogged with it, gravity against him. Instead he dips too fingers down to where her neck is still bleeding from his teeth. She hisses at the contact and he breathes that in, smiling as he draws the blood up to draw under her nose, over her lip. For good measure he smears some on her cheek too.

He smiles down at her, saccharine. “Now we match.”

“F-fuck you,” she spits, trying for a snarl. But Tucker sees it. He sees right through her. Into her. Beneath, to what she’s hiding.

Becks is afraid of him.

Terrified of what he’ll do next.

And fuck if that doesn’t that feel good.

He taps her nose with his finger, a dot of blood left on the tip of it like an obscene Rudolph dress up, before he pulls her chair upright, grabbing at her wrists to zip tie back to the chair again.

“You look good bloody, Becks,” he says, murmuring it in her ear as he locks her hands in place. “Mal ever tell you that?”

She huffs, shaky from the fight, and whatever fear she’s still got in her system. “Thought you didn’t d-do violence.”

She clearly means it as some sort of gotcha but Tucker laughs, the sound high and tinkling. He looks up and catche his own reflection of a picture frame hanging on the wall opposite. The picture itself shows a picket fence, 2.5 kids family, a display picture for a display home, white bread as they come. His own face is shown in ghostly reflection, smeared bloody and bright from the fight.

On the one hand, Becks has a good point. On the other hand…

Well, he didn’t do boys until he met Billy Laudner.

[ninjakasuga]

Sonal Celebration: Day 5

Day 5 of the Sonic & Sally celebration hosted by @boundforfreedomsonsal and here is my contribution to the ‘Alternative Universe’ prompt, ENJOY!!

Alternative Universe:

[Author’s notes: Gonna be using the Reboot Archive-verse for this one; hopefully, you all will find it as good as my preSGW Archive-verse stuff. Minus one or two bits of altered history, there’s very little changed compared to my compulsion to exceedingly alter things in the preSGW timeline. Also, this one will push the PG-13 a bit (mostly due to constant nudity and implications), but I promise to keep it as tasteful as possible but the set up for this is too good to pass up.]

The first rays of sunlight managed to cut through the drawn white almost-see through curtains of the room. Small sunbeams touching a large bed in the middle of a moderately high-end hotel. The rays of light finally touched the face of a blue sleeping hedgehog, whose soft snoring slowly came to a halt as the light was enough to make his eyelid twitch and then finally open. The single eye narrowed before a hand reached from under the covers, and fumbled around at the nightstand, looking for something. Finding the object, a remote; a push of the button caused a thicker curtain to slowly draw close via a mechanical track system. Thus quashing the annoying light rays of the sun. Satisfied, Sonic placed the remote back on the nightstand and curled back into a comfortable position and tried to return to dreamland.

Yet a new sensation prevented sleep from returning to him. His sleepy brain at first had trouble deducing what was going on, he just knew his left ear felt wet- wait a minute. Blinking his eyes open, Sonic craned his head and glanced upward, finding a familiar chipmunk nibbling his ear gently. “Good morning Sal, must you do that every morning?” He softly grumbled in his greeting of the one sharing his bed.

The Princess softly giggled and merely began to ‘groom’ the fur around his ear. “I’m just indulging an innate urge native to my chipmunk and squirrel heritage.” Her playful tone oozed a mix of sass and snark, but also a tenderness only he and one other got to hear. “Is it wrong of me to love on or groom my boyfriend?”

With a sleepy yawn, Sonic managed a smile, “No, nothing wrong there, but can’t you do it when I’m not sleepy?”

The sassy Princess just smirked back, not backing down, and in retaliation, just held his ear between her teeth, causing him to shudder. “I can’t help it, it’s fun to tease you, plus it is almost noon.”

The blue hedgehog reached back his hand bumping her hip as he tried to reach for her fluffy tail but Sally angled her body so it was out of reach. “D-dirty pool Sal!” He squirmed as she started to chew on his ear again. “R-really dirty, didn’t you get enough lovin’ last night?”

Sally was not relenting and slid her arms around his chest, keeping him pinned as she held his very chewable and cute ear hostage. “I diiiiid, but that doesn’t mean I can’t just do this because I love you and I ca-aaaaaaaaaaaaaannn!!” She suddenly yelped and released his ear as she felt a hand grasp her fluffy tail and squeeze softly. Her yelp transforming into a partial moan as the hand continued squeezing and playfully toying with her fluffy appendage. “Aaah! N-Nicole?”

At her name, a third party in the bed slid up from her ‘hiding spot’ in the covers, appearing behind Sally. As if to mimic Sally, Nicole softly nipped at one of her ears, while still keeping a hand on her tail. “You rang Sally-sweetie? Sorry, but I saw you harassing my main Hog’ and I had to save him.” After a slight pause, she playfully added with a crooked smile. “Also this tail was wagging in my face, bad Princess. You know it makes Hedgehog’s and Lynx’s pounce Chipmunk’s.”

Pumping a fist, and now free of Sally’s nibbling, Sonic rolls onto his other side to face the two, smirking as he holds up his hand in the air. “Nicole my sweet cyber-lady gimme some love!”

“Always my main man’.” She happily returned the high five with a free hand, before their fingers latched together in a handhold.

Feigning hurt, Sally pouted with a quibble of her lip. “Et tu Nicole? I thought you were my girlfriend?”

Releasing Sally’s tail and bringing that arm around to tilt her chin, the Lynx leaned in to kiss her lips. “I am, but I’m also his girlfriend, and you were being a Princess bully.” The matter-of-fact way the line was delivered, made Sonic snicker and Sally roll her eyes.

“I am not a Princess bully, and I’ll remember this next time he picks on you.” Arms crossed, Sally huffed, but a quiver of her lip hinted she was being playful and barely held back snickering at her own BS.

After releasing Nicole’s hand, Sonic put that hand to his chest as he sat up in bed. “Moi? Pick on Nicole? For shame Sally, why would I do that? She’s still getting used to her bio-nanite body, I’d be cruel to use my advanced knowledge of pranking on her.”

Both females stared at him with raised eyebrows and expressions unique to each other, that spoke volumes of how much they did not believe him. After a few moments of staring, the trio breaks out into sputters and then full-blown laughter. As their laughter died down, the three gave each other a hug, a kiss and then climbed out of bed.

Stretching, Sonic picked up the remote and had the thick curtain drawn to let sunlight in and so they could see the view outside. As he started to do a few post-wake-up stretches his mind wandered a bit, musing on recent events. After the Dark Gaia/Planet Break incident had been dealt with; the United Federation and other agencies against Eggman, helped the Freedom Fighters tow the Freedom Stormer to a coastal city where a G.U.N. controlled harbor and shipyard were stationed. As a thank you, for their efforts in helping fix the planet and stop Dark Gaia; G.U.N. offered the use of the shipyard to repair the Freedom Stormer. In the meantime, they would be set up at a hotel, on the U.F. 's tab with meals comped on top. Rather generous but none of the Freedom Fighters saw a reason to turn down the offer.

Tails and Rotor often would go to the shipyard to continue repairs, either by themselves or with Nicole or in some cases, help from the shipyard staff depending on what part of the flying vessel was being worked on. For the two tech-savvy inventors repairing the Stormer WAS a vacation, especially as they could get parts to do upgrades they had been pondering installing for a time. Oh, they still took some time to relax at the resort, but they were very content working at their craft. 

Bunnie and Antoine decided to use the free time to have as they put it ‘extended honeymoon’ as their original one got cut short thanks to Eggman’s scheme of the week at the time. A sentiment everyone supported and so the two were spending most of this ‘mini-vacation’ by themselves for obvious reasons.

Big simply enjoyed being able to fish from the docks or the local beach. Give the big guy a chance to fulfill his pastime and he was content.

Amy went to visit her cousin who they found out was in the next town over. Some guy named Rob whose wife had just delivered their firstborn and Amy was keen to see the new baby. Cream and Cheese went with her, the young rabbit eager to see the newborn herself and enjoy the free time with one of her favorite people.

As for the three of them; well they would help with the Freedom Stormer repairs sometimes; especially Nicole as she would download herself back into the Stormer’s systems and help figure out what still needed fixing or simply help. Other times she would be helping Sally with her workload. 

Speaking of Sally, she did what Sally did best when she wasn’t helping with getting the Stormer up and running, she was multitasking. Updating her Father, the King on what was going on, hosting holo-calls with allied leaders to discuss how to deal with Eggman while he was licking his wounds from this recent defeat. While Sonic usually found the ‘diplomacy’ a snore-feast he had to admit he enjoyed seeing Sally fired up and showing she had the chops as future Queen. Heck, she’d been pushing for the alliances to all really start some ‘info campaign’ to make sure the world knew just how far Dr. Eggman went since he was behind the whole planet breaking apart. Some stuff about ‘weakening his supporters' faith in him’ and stuff about ‘getting those still apathetic to the cause to see what will happen if they don’t all unite to stop the Eggman Empire’, etc, etc.

As for Sonic himself, when he wasn’t running, or doing what little grunt work he was capable of with the ongoing Freedom Stormer repairs; he was enjoying some needed downtime with Sally and Nicole. Especially since the three of them were keeping their ‘more than friends’ relations on the mum. Looking back at the two women who were gathering their discarded clothing items, he felt his cheeks redden at how things changed last night. In a really nice way, but well after focusing on saving the world and not being a werehog at night anymore, Sonic had not given things getting more intimate a thought, and they didn’t even go all the way last night. Just a lot of touching, kissing, and sleeping together without pajamas.

Then again when you nearly die for the umpteenth time and given how ‘close’ this last adventure was; in a way, he understood the need for something more. Whether or not they might cross the ‘next threshold’ anytime soon he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to rush things. Some things were better taken the ‘slo-mo route’. Yet he doubted he would deny either of them if they sought more and everyone was in agreement. It was just one of those, see what may come situations with this three-way relationship.

Moving towards the window, he stared out at the lovely view facing the beach and a small stretch of beachside near the resort. The sun was up, and the world looked at peace, at least for the time being. One wouldn’t think the planet was in pieces last week. His smile slowly eased into a frown as a forlorn expression washed over his face as he recalled the ‘sacrifice’ made to fix everything. Okay maybe sacrifice was overkill, Chip wasn’t dead, he was just stuck inside the planet. Even with his assurances he could ‘feel and see’ them through the planet itself, it didn’t remove the sense of loss Sonic felt since the spirit returned to his duties. It hadn’t been that long Chip had been with them, but he left an impact and he’d become fond of the little guy.

“You gals think Chip’s okay? That he ain’t alone where he is?” He spoke suddenly, as he stared out the window. His words causing both Sally and Nicole to turn his way, their expressions almost mirroring Sonic’s as the loss of their friend hit them. Yet they each also carried concern for the blue hedgehog, since he was the one taking Chip’s return to the planet hardest. “I know he said he could, ‘feel’ through the world now that the Light and Dark Gaia were in balance and harmony was restored; that he wouldn’t be lonely like he was before; but… I worry he just said that to make it easier for us.”

He felt two pairs of arms wrap around him from behind, not an easy task with his quills, but Sally and Nicole seemed to have picked up the best way to go for a double hug without any quills jabbing into him. After a sigh exhaled from his throat, he rested a hand on each of theirs. “Sorry, don’t mean to be a downer, I just miss the little guy.”

Placing a kiss to his right cheek, Sally warmly nuzzled him as she craned her head so their eyes met. “It’s okay to feel that way Sonic, we all miss him in our own ways, and out of all of us you bonded to him the most.”

“You got him excited to see the world to understand the planet he was meant to protect and serve in his role. Not unlike how two certain someone’s did so for me.” Murmured Nicole as she rested her chin on Sonic’s shoulder, her fingers curling in his chest fur, a habit Sonic noticed that the lynx had picked up. “You inspired him to be the best he could, to find the courage inside he felt he lacked. Take it from me Sonic, even if he’s stuck within the planet, he knows he’s not alone and that he has you, and the rest of us as his friends.”

“I hope so, I really hope so Nicole.” As another sigh left him, the hedgehog slowly began to smile again as he leaned against the two women in his life. “Then all the more reason to kick Eggman’s keister so Chip doesn’t have to fret about some other horror being unleashed, and maybe, when all’s clear we can see him again.”

“That’s the spirit Sonic.” Cheered Sally as she squeezed him before taking his right arm and nudging him to follow. “Come on, the three of us should clean up, and that shower should easily handle three Mobian’s given it’s designed with humans in mind as well.” Her blue eyes twinkle with a bit of mischief as she smiled more. “I wash your back, you wash mine?”

“I call dibs on the tail!”

Laughing at Nicole’s outburst, Sonic shook his head, before giving the lynx a grin. “Fine you get the tail I’ll get the top!”

“Deal!” The lynx clasped hands with Sonic, a deal was struck.

Feeling a bead of sweat start to roll down the side of her face, Sally suddenly started to regret her suggestion. “Uh guys, WHA-?!” She cried out as she was lifted up into the air, Nicole holding her up by her feet, while Sonic held her up with his hands grasping under her arms. “N-now we shouldn’t get crazy the others will start to wonder if we’re late-.”

“Assuming they ain’t sleeping in themselves after all this is a vacation as much as recuperation from all the fighting.” The lynx sing-songed with a cheerful hum as she helped Sonic carry Sally to the bathroom. “We’ll behave and stick to just washing.”

“Maybe.” Sonic mused, earning a giggle from Nicole while Sally rolled her eyes, but smiled warmly.

“I love you goofs, and since you’re adamant, very well your Princess awaits her washing!”

The three share a laugh as Sonic uses his foot to kick the bathroom door shut. The worries of the future put aside as the three opted to share what time they could in this sort of blissful state. At any moment Eggman or his Egg Bosses could start a new incident and put their moment of peace out of commission. Sometimes, you just had to live a little.

[Author notes: Not very originally using the Post-SGW Reboot setting; but every time I tried to create some new alt-verse or one something of the prior ones; it just… Wasn’t working. So I decided to give this a go and rather enjoy it.

Also, I shamelessly do not regret my Sally/Nicole/Sonic shipping of the Reboot verse. So I decided to use it; and while in-story I didn’t explain it as to avoid killing the pacing here’s the 411 on Nicole having a ‘bio-nanite body’.

After restoring her hand-held, learning of her origins and stopping Phage, Dr. Ellidy before the crew left his lab revealed he had one other project that was to coincide with Nicole’s original purpose of being the digital repository of his daughter Nikki’s mind and memories. A pod containing a cluster of bio-nanites coded with Mobian Lynx DNA, that when given a brain to link with, could create a solid, actual living form. Granted it would still be a blend of natural and artificial but you’d have a living being able to experience the majority of the living experience. While still at odds with his feelings for Nicole; he feels Nikki would want Nicole to have all the chances to ‘have a full, and wonderful life and experiences’. So he gave the pod to the FF, and after some tinkering, Nicole downloaded herself into it and later emerged. Nicole was herself still but now with a body beyond hard light holograms. Yet she was still able to digitize herself and return to cyberspace and come back. Cue all the happiness.

As for the menage a trio, I may….revisit this and give them a fuller story and explanation. Hope it was good and sorry for the fatty A/N I just felt having to go over all this in-story would kill the pace.] 

[ohdeputy]

100 Letters PART VIII

Arthur Morgan x John Marston

Words: 5,311

Read on Archive

Part VII

-

Pain exploded across John’s nose, not processing what had happened until he hit the ground. He looked up at his abuser to see a rough looking man standing over him. A pair of hands grabbed onto John, lifting him back up.

“Van der Linde! Get out here!” John could hear a gruff voice coming not far from where he was being held.

“You don’t know me, but you keep robbing me!”

He was an older man, though, cleaned up. He dawned lavish clothing from what looked like a silk necktie to gold buttons down his coat that he wore overtop a pinstripe suit. But amongst it all, John could make out a shiny pocket watch which hung from his vest.

He watched the scene play out before him in bewilderment until the realization at who this mysterious man could be suddenly hit him, oh no…

“My name is Leviticus Cornwall! And I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you!”

As if on cue, the, no doubt, hired thug that gripped him threw his fist at John again, completely distracting him from his attention on the one person in the entire state that the Van der Linde gang was trying their utmost to avoid.

He reached a hand to cover his face, cradling his nose as he was sure it began to bleed. The thug gave him a creepy smile that John so desperately wanted to knock off his face.

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a bargaining chip if you intended to use me as any sort of leverage,” John muffled through his hand.

The thug’s smile dropped, curling his lip. “Shut up!” He threw John to the ground, landing on his stomach and struggled against the man’s foot now placed on his back. John cursed himself for making the foolish decision of opening his mouth. Admitting his worthlessness was probably not the best way out of this already poor situation.

Not that him being held hostage for someone like Dutch was going to help him much anyways… though with Arthur there perhaps he would have a chance.

It was too late to think about any of that now as he felt the man reach down and start to bind his feet together, “then if you’re of no use to Mister Cornwall, we’ll have a bit of fun with you instead.”

Panic seized John, growing anxious from the thug’s comment and leaving him to wonder what he meant, his mind now racing for a way to escape. The thug motioned to another man to drag him beside the saloon and away from the feud. In this narrow alley was where all the men hid their horses, out of sight so no one might suspect their arrival.

The thug that had punched him earlier took out more rope that John was scared to think what he might do with. Bending down where John’s feet were already tied, he watched in confusion as the man wrapped it around an extra time. He then stood, holding the end of the rope in his hands.

“What’re you doing!” John yelled out, his voice straining while he grew even more distressed. The thug didn’t answer, instead, punching him again, sending his head to collide against the hard ground.

John felt a fuzziness overcome him, his vision blurring as he began to lose focus.

“I think we need to shut you up.” The man took out a bandana, kneeling down beside John to force his head up. He then proceeded to tie it around his mouth, muffling John’s protests.

In the background, he could hear the continued slandering that Cornwall yelled, forgetting for a moment where he was until he heard the door of the saloon bust open.

“Please, gentlemen, this is a terrible mistake,” he heard the unmistakable voice of Dutch trying to reason as him and Arthur walked out. Their footsteps slow and calculated as John imagined they held their hands up in surrender.

John knew the bullshit that usually followed, and thought about how this time Dutch wasn’t going to talk his way out of this one. There was a tense silence in the air that followed after Dutch spoke. John waited in anticipation of what would happen next.

Sure enough, a shot fired that broke the seal of the temporary conversation between Dutch and Cornwall. John scarcely heard Arthur and him move for cover, speaking to each other in a rushed tone as they did.

“What do we do know?”

A pause as gunshots rang in the air.

“We find a way to get out of here!” Dutch hissed back to him.

“Wait, but what about Marston-”

More shots interrupt as they whizzed into the wood that the two of them hid behind.

“Come on, we need to go. Now.”

“Dutch, what about Marston?” Arthur’s voice seemed tense.

Dutch started to sound impatient as he responded, “I’m sure he left at the first sight of trouble, son, I wouldn’t be worried.”

“His horse is still here, Dutch, I don’t think-”

“Dammit, Arthur, I said don’t worry. We just gotta, we- ahh shit!”

It was audible that Dutch’s frustration was beginning to rise. His lack of control over the situation spiralling as he tried to convince Arthur to forget about John.

“Just drop it. We have to go.”

“I’m not leaving without John.”

John’s attention snapped back to the two men as he heard them laughing, distracted as he watched the one who initially punched him mount onto his horse. It took only a moment for John to realize what was happening. His eyes followed the rope secured around his legs in horror to trail up to the end held in the thug’s hand, a look of malice plastered across his face.

John desperately tried to loosen the ropes around his hands, wiggling his body from side to side. For all his efforts, he was still bound too tightly. His energy only wasted in the pointless attempt to escape.

It dawned on John just how bad the situation was turning, trying to call out for the attention of his peers not far off from where he was bound. His muffled screaming only mixed in with the chaos that surrounded them, doing him no good in the attempt.

The thug reveled in John’s struggle, eyes lit up with a wickedness as he watched him. When John thought he might burst from anticipation, the thug finally spurred his horse forward.

He violently tensed, squeezing his eyes shut as he listened to the rope unravel off the ground until there was a deafening whip, sending him hurtling across the ground.

Suddenly John’s whole world was abruptly put on its head as he was dragged through the streets of town. His eyes were still screwed shut while he tried to compact himself as tightly as he could. It did little to help the beating he received from every angle, his body only twisting around. He brought his tied hands to cover his head, trying to soften some of the blow.

Every bump and rock in the road felt like a punch to his gut or his side. What could have been minutes felt like hours as he was slowly getting beaten to a pulp.

The whole time, John couldn’t help but think of Dutch. It was almost funny, in a sick and twisted way. How this cruel situation only reminded him of what he endured from the very same man he fought for, and in turn, was being damned for. In some way he couldn’t imagine ever escaping this torture, symbolic to his life already, in a sense.

Yet John had never felt pain like this before. This was neverending.

Gunshots still rang out around him as the fight ensued, growing distant by the passing seconds as he was hauled away. His coat flailed behind him, making his shirt gradually ride up along his back and exposing his skin to the harsh terrain he was pulled along. John was sure his body was covered in cuts and bruises at this point, silently begging for it to stop.

When he thought he might finally pass out from the pain, he heard a sudden snap that made him slide a few more feet until stopping in a cloud of dust that collected around him.

He didn’t dare open his eyes yet, not believing the rope to actually be broken. John still braced himself like it would start up again any moment, curling himself into a ball.

“Fucking animals!” He heard someone yell faintly, for the blood that rushed in his ears muted the world around him. There was a sickening sound of a knife across someone’s neck, then the sputtering of their last breath.

“No! No, please, I-” The dull thud of that same knife cut off the cry of plea as John heard someone else get stabbed.

The quiet that followed somehow seemed worse than all the noise, until he heard footsteps approach him, making John tense in fear of being next.

“Hey, you’re okay now, it’s okay.” He felt arms wrap around his frail body, suddenly realizing how hard he was shaking when he jumped at the touch.

John started squirming, throwing himself around to try and escape the grasp around him.

“Nuhnnnuhnnuh,” he tried to protest through the bandana tied around his mouth. The hands that held John gently tried to steady him, until they lifted to untie the bandana.

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s me, you’re safe now!”

John finally did open his eyes when he recognized Arthur’s voice, staring up in disbelief. Arthur looked back at him, eyes full of worry as he scanned John’s face. He then quickly brought out his knife to cut the restraints around his hands and feet.

Without thinking, John threw his arms around Arthur, feeling warm tears run down his face. He held onto him so tightly while trembling uncontrollably, not caring in that moment about anything between them.

“John?” Arthur sounded surprised, but he moved his arms to hold him again.

“Come on, we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

John didn’t say anything, but Arthur gently lifted him up. He whistled for his horse, who came bounding towards them. But instead of going to mount Bandit, Arthur turned towards Old Boy. John didn’t notice his horse had been next to them, wondering if Arthur had gotten his horse from the saloon before coming to get him.

“This might hurt but I need you to be strong for me, alright? It’ll just take a second. We have to get moving, there’ll be more of them soon.”

John only nodded, which was enough for Arthur, placing him on the back of Old Boy. John yelled out in pain, feeling as though his muscles ripped under fragile skin from the slight movement.

“Arthur, I can’t.” John was startled by how hoarse his voice sounded, almost not recognizing it.

Arthur’s face twisted in empathy, “I know, but I need to get you out of here.” His response was shaky, John noting the way the corners of his mouth fell.

Arthur brought a hand across his face, looking around them and John knew he was thinking of what to do next.

“I can’t bring you back to camp, it’s not safe anymore…”

John started to slip off his horse, weak from the pain that threatened to make him pass out. Arthur noticed, bringing up a hand to John’s side.

“Okay, okay. I think I know somewhere we can go.” He lifted himself into the saddle, “Just hold on to me, okay? I think this man can help us, he’s always been real kind and he owes me, we can go there.”

John obediently wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist, holding on as tight as he could.

“Come on, girl!” Arthur called over his shoulder for Bandit to follow, then clicked for Old Boy to go. The last thing John saw were the thugs from earlier lay in a pool of their own blood before he buried his face into Arthur’s back.

-

The jostling of Old Boy’s galloping proved to be an excruciating experience for John, who had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in pain as the two escaped. It felt as though his body was a bag of broken bones being shaken around. As much effort as he put into keeping himself together, he wasn’t able to stop the tears from running down his face and dampening Arthur’s shirt.

Arthur didn’t slow his pace the whole way to wherever he was riding, making John’s eyes snap open when he finally did pull back on Old Boy’s reins.

“Whoa, boy.”

They made it to a small cabin amidst a dense forest that John wasn’t familiar with. The late afternoon sun filtering through the overcast of branches above them. John was relieved to hear nothing more than the sounds of the forest, making him feel a little bit safer.

He slowly unlatched himself from around Arthur, his joints stiff from not moving for the duration of the ride out of Valentine.

Arthur slid off the horse and reached out to get John off, too. He fell right into his grasp, bringing an arm up around his neck. Arthur cradled him closely to his chest, walking with such a delicate step that John had never thought was capable of the other man.

They approached the door to the cabin, which Arthur brought up a fist to knock against. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a man in a straw sun hat that John thought was a little on the small side.

“I’m sorry to come so unexpectedly, Mister Mason, but I’m afraid I need your help.”

The man known as Mister Mason had dark brown hair with a full beard and a kind face, looking at Arthur then to John with his brow furrowed in worry.

“Oh my! Please, come in, bring him here!”

The man motioned to a cot that he quickly tried to declutter by picking up a stack of old books left there. Arthur brought John over, softly lowering him down. A wave of exhaustion overtook him once he finally lay still. The room wouldn’t stop spinning above him, bringing up a hand to cover his eyes. Even the slight motion caused him immense pain, his muscles protesting at the strain.

His agony must have been evident, hearing Arthur’s hushed voice trying to ease him, “just take it easy now.”

John felt a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch away. Arthur’s hand reeled back, and John squinted up to see him back away slightly, his expression turning somber.

A second later, Mister Mason returned fussing over John. He could briefly hear him offering to find more pillows before Arthur interrupted him, saying something as he led the man over to the next room.

The thought of being left alone terrified John in his delicate state. And as much as he wanted to pass out from exhaustion, he didn’t think he could. His heart still hammered in his chest, even though he knew he was far away from Valentine and that those men were long dead.

It took John by surprise when he saw Arthur re-enter the room, this time without the company of Mister Mason. Instead, he held a porcelain bowl, a cloth, and a stern expression. Holding the bowl in one hand, he picked up a chair with his other to place in front of the bed John lay on in one swift motion.

“Sit up, look at me. Slowly.”

John did as he said, as difficult as it was to move.

Arthur put the bowl down on a table beside him, bringing his hand to hold John’s jaw. He held him tenderly, careful as he angled John’s face to study him.

Deeming there wasn’t anything too serious, he let out a breath and dropped his hand. He didn’t say anything as he brought out the cloth and dipped it in the bowl that was filled with water, although John could see how his expression darkened.

Bringing the damp cloth up to John’s nose, he gently cleaned the blood that had dried there. John pulled back a bit from the contact and Arthur let him. His eyes teared up again, not sure if it was from the pain or the trauma. Slowly, a tear pooled over the edge, sending a warm streak to roll down his cheek.

Arthur caught it, wiping it away, then dropped his hand and looked away from John. He suddenly felt the urge to fall into him again, to have himself be wrapped in the comfort of his arms while he cried and tried to forget. Once again he was tempted to tell him everything about Dutch, and how it was proven by his willingness to leave John behind.

But he wouldn’t.

John kept his focus on Arthur, seeing the way his jaw clenched. His eyes darting down to see Arthur’s hand squeeze into a fist.

“To think that they could’ve-”

“I’m okay.” John swallowed dryly, lip trembling as he interrupted him.

Arthur’s face contorted in anger, suddenly rising off the chair. He paced in front of John, whose eyes followed him.

“What they did to you-those fucking bastards! You could have-”

“But you were there.”

Arthur finally looked him in the eyes. John tried to muster enough energy to give him a smile, but feared it only came out broken.

Instantly, the anger melted from Arthur’s face, and he was back in the chair in front of John.

“ ‘Course I was there,” he muttered out as he brought the cloth back up to John’s face. “I wasn’t just gunna leave you.”

John dropped his gaze. Arthur still believed John had left him all those years ago, and despite it all, here he was. When John was convinced time and time again that Arthur would leave him to rot because of what he had done, only to be proven wrong. Against Dutch’s will, who would happily be rid of him. Even against his own word of admitting he felt nothing for John. It begged the question, why? Why didn’t he leave him?

The question sat on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t dare ask it. Too afraid of what Arthur’s response might be.

“Jesus, what have they done to you,” he said it under his breath, yet it was enough to make John’s throat tighten.

With the blood from his nose now clean, Arthur moved to wash over a cut on his cheek where the stitches came loose. The two sat in silence for the remainder of the time Arthur spent cleaning him up. All the while, John studied him. The way his face was all screwed up in concentration.

Their faces were so close, he could count every one of Arthur’s eyelashes. He wanted to focus on every inch of his face, but couldn’t make himself look away from his eyes. How John was so close he could see the way they turned from a deep blue at the edges to pool into a turquoise that split so drastically to vibrant green it made him wonder how so much colour could be contained within them.

John found himself getting lost there, and all the memories they once held. An uneasy feeling set itself in the pit of his stomach that John couldn’t describe any other way than…homesick.

When had they become such strangers? He used to look into those eyes daily and now he couldn’t help but wonder when had he forgotten every single detail of his face? Or the new scar he got across his mouth that somehow complimented his features even more? When did he stop looking at the person in front of him and have the joy he felt replaced by a sickening dread and reminder of the worst mistake he had ever made in his life. John knew when, but somehow it never really set in.

Years with this space between them yet John could swear they were only kids yesterday. And now the severity of it overwhelmed him, and he suddenly wasn’t crying from the events from earlier that day.

“Hey, hey,” Arthur’s voice brought him back to reality, he spoke so painfully soft that it only made John want to cry harder.

“You’re gunna be fine, you just need to rest now. You must be exhausted.”

He was, even if that’s not the reason he was so emotional at that moment. But Arthur was right, John felt his eyelids growing heavy. Tired now that the adrenaline from his fear had worn off and so emotionally drained that sleep was about the only thing he could really handle now.

“Okay.” John felt his dry lips form the word but couldn’t recognize the voice which spoke it.

The time it took for him to lay down and close his eyes was lost to him as he instantly fell asleep. So deep fell his unconsciousness that he wasn’t even frequented by the nightmares of Nico, only subjected to a blackened slumber in its place.

-

The smell of stew cooking hit John before he fully woke. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the room he lay in properly now.

The cabin was small and cozy, the walls covered in framed photographs ranging from failed family portraits to wildlife and even some self portraits in various different locations. There were maps, too, that scattered across any surface in the room, with quickly written notes sprawled across them.

Half empty cups of tea were left long forgotten on top of stacked books and papers that made their way to the floor. Photography equipment lay haphazardly in any of the free space left over, making the whole room a museum of oddities.

From the little that John perceived, the place suited Mister Mason’s character perfectly.

“The golden boy arises,” Arthur came into the room with a bowl of stew in his hands, offering it to John.

John took his time sitting up, still sore, “don’t feel too golden at the moment.” He took the bowl gratefully from his hands, “thanks.” His mouth watered just from the smell, ravenous as he shoveled down the contents.

He could feel Arthur’s eyes on him, but didn’t care as he slurped the remainder of the stew down with just the bowl to his lips.

When he lowered the bowl he could see Arthur trying to hide a look of amusement as he sat down in a chair set up across from him.

“What?”

Arthur shook his head, “nothin’. Just glad you’re feeling better. You look like a damn raccoon eatin’ that.”

John gave a laugh, “yeah, well, I do feel a lot better.”

There was a pause, then John looked over at Arthur, “thanks for uh, getting me out of there.”

Arthur gave a nod, dropping his gaze to the floor, “sure, yeah.”

Another uncomfortable silence followed. John wanted to say more, but couldn’t think of exactly what.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you more, uh… more cleaned up,” Arthur cleared his throat while John was sure he could see his cheeks growing slightly red. “I didn’t want to disturb you or anything while you were restin’… or anything…”

John looked to the same tattered shirt he was wearing from the day before, the fabric torn and stained all over. “Oh, yeah, no worries,” he was secretly grateful Arthur didn’t get the chance to.

“Albert said he was gunna get a bath ready for you, so, there’s that.” Arthur rubbed the side of his neck awkwardly. It was something John hadn’t seen him do in a long time, almost bringing a smile to his lips.

A loud crash sounded from the entrance to the room they sat in, making both their heads snap in the direction. Albert had stumbled in, almost tripping over the leg of a tripod.

“Don’t mind me,” he gave a small chuckle, “silly me, didn’t mean to disturb the two of you.”

“No, not at all,” Arthur wore a look of relief.

“Oh, good!” He took a few cautious steps toward John. “Your warm bath is awaiting you, sir,” he gave the smallest of bows, wearing a timid smile on his face.

John blinked, “uh, thank you, that’s really kind-”

“Oh, shoot! I made you a cup of tea, as well! Apologies, one moment, I knew I forgot something,” Albert quickly retreated back to the room he’d come from, leaving the two alone once more.

“He’s one strange fellow,” John said, looking over to Arthur with a laugh.

Arthur returned it, “yeah, but his heart’s in the right place.”

He then stood from his chair. “I think it’s time to go back to camp, let everyone know that we're okay. I’m sure it’s a complete shit show with what happened with Cornwall, I’ll be expecting them to be halfway packed up and ready to move by now.”

John nodded, Arthur continuing, “you should stay here, there’s no point for you to come back while you’re like this.”

John opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur spoke before he could, “I’ll tell Abigail you’re okay, don’t worry. And as soon as we're settled into our new place I’ll send someone to come get you.”

That wasn’t the reason John was going to say something, and a small part of him believed that Arthur knew it, too. He wanted to go with Arthur, or more so he wanted Arthur to stay. But how could he ask that of him? When he knew that Arthur was right. They needed him, as much as John secretly wanted to need him, too.

So John stayed silent, only watching as Arthur grabbed his hat and coat from beside him and went to go see Albert.

He lingered at the doorway for a moment, “I know you’ve come to depend on me quite a bit for saving your ass so many times now but, try not to die while I’m gone,” Arthur shot him a genuine smile, making John incapable of a response.

He moved to the other room, where John could hear him thanking Albert for everything he’d done. The sound of the door opening followed, and then he was gone.

John didn’t move, lost in thought of everything that transpired and what it meant until Albert’s head popped into the room.  “Your bath, Mister Marston?”

John blinked back to the present, focusing on Albert. “Right, yes.”

With slow rendered movement, he stood and followed Albert toward the bath room. The man held the door open, John thanking him while he slipped inside. Once alone, he started undressing. He was careful removing his shirt, having to peel it from his skin from the blood that glued it there.

When he managed to remove his shirt, he discarded it to the floor, gently removing the rest of his clothing before lowering himself into the tub full of water.

He sunk right in, exhaling in relief as he did. The water was the perfect temperature, easing his aching muscles instantly. Letting his head rest against the end of the tub, he closed his eyes and let himself relax.

After letting himself soak for much longer than he needed to, he reluctantly stood and exited the bath. He took the time to dry himself off, still struggling in his movements to do so. He then picked up his pants, sliding them on.

Looking over at his shirt, his nose wrinkled. He thought it a shame to ruin the intention of his bath by putting it back on. Walking over to pick it up, he became distracted as something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Opposite of him faced a mirror, which John was surprised to catch his reflection in. He could’ve sworn it was someone else for a moment, not being able to recognize himself from just how beaten up and bruised he looked.

He wore a newly acquired black eye, with scrapes circling his features. His scars looked as prominent as ever, with their stitches coming loose from the aggravation they’d endured.

He wondered how Arthur saw him when he had cleaned him up the day before, and if he could even see what was left of John there anymore. God knows John didn’t.

His mind briefly thought back to their interaction from last night, his breath catching in his lungs. The image of Arthur’s concerned look for him dissolved as the rap of knuckles sounded against the bath room door.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Mister Marston. I left you some fresh clothes on the chair adjacent the mirror, if you’d like them.”

John looked behind him, sure enough seeing a stack of neatly folded clothes. He gingerly picked up a red with white stripes collared shirt.

Upon inspecting the pants, he decided on sticking with his own. The ones Albert provided were a little too pompous for the likes of John, knowing he would be the laughing stock of camp if he returned wearing them.

He finished buttoning up his shirt, tucking it in his pants and bringing a fresh pair of suspenders to sit on his shoulders. Leaving the room, he found Albert back in the space he woke up in that morning.

“Thank you, Mister Mason, for everything. You’ve been more than generous.”

Albert waved it off, “oh, it’s of no bother. Besides, you should be thanking your friend, Mister Morgan. He wouldn’t leave your side the whole night, even went out to catch some food to cook up this morning. I merely provided a place where you might rest your bones, is all.”

John’s eyebrows rose at Albert’s words. He was surprised, and almost a little embarrassed at the thought of Arthur keeping him company while he slept.

“He is a good man, you know, what he did for you. A good fellow.”

“Yeah…” John agreed with him. “I probably would’ve been dead if it weren’t for him.”

John looked down, a little in shame of himself, “he’s a better man than me.”

He’d said it more to himself than Albert, but the other man gave a stern shake of his head, “oh, I’m sure that’s not true!”

John gave a little laugh, though it was filled with spite, “I can assure you, I do not deserve the kindness he showed me by bringing me here. Nor that of yours, Mister Mason.”

“Nonsense! What makes you less deserving than any other man out there? I may not know you very well but I know a good soul when I see one. And I am confident enough to see it in our dear friend Mister Morgan, too. So him bringing you here out of care must count for something, no?”

John shook his head, “I’m afraid what we share is… more of an obligation toward one another as part of a, uh, much larger family.”

Albert didn’t look convinced, “if you say so, Mister Marston.”

“Please,” John gave him a smile, “John’s just fine. I’m not much for formalities, I’m afraid.”

Albert returned the gesture, revealing a wide smile that stretched across his face, “then Albert’s just fine, too.”

“Now, onto more important things. Would you like a cup of tea? Or are you hungry? You’re more than welcome to something more to eat, or perhaps if you’d like to rest more. I could always-”

“Albert,” John interjected, making him stop mid ramble. “I can assure you, I’m just fine.”

Albert wore a look of relief, and John couldn’t help but feel his appreciation grow for the other man at his visible concern for him.

“Well then,” Albert thought for a moment, his eyes scanning around the room before landing back on John.

“Do you like photography, John?”

[tealovesmycar]

Genre: Angst

Characters: Daniel, reader, Hank Anderson, Connor

Warning: I’m not English, I’m Italian, so if I’m wrong at the grammatical level, do not kill me pls. ILY BYE!

Despite your sweaty graduation, the business world has never rewarded you with the right pledge. Fault of your young age? The fault of the economic crisis? The fault of capitalism? Or maybe the androids, who now held even the most daily tasks? You did not shed tears for this, the world evolved more and more and this situation was like a “second industrial revolution” projected into a futurist world.

Fortunately you have found a mediocre part-time job at the DPD. Of course, the idea of investigating the Detroit cases attracted you a lot, even if it was not your field. And do you think they would have given you such an important job at first glance? Obviously not! Are you kidding? With a lot of “kindness” they put you into a sort of “Bob the Adjutant”. In practice a sort of slave: what was broken you repaired, cleaned, brought coffee, donuts etc … At this point, will you ask? But the androids and other robots involved in these tasks? Well the police department did not have so much money to afford it, so you can safely say that all those years of study, tears and sacrifices have been thrown to the toilet.

In the first few months of work, you had a kind of friendship with Lieutenant Anderson and his android Connor. Probably that man saw you as a daughter, given the great difference in age that separated you. And Connor … well, he was an android dedicated to his work, but at the same time he seemed to try to mix with the rest of his collaborators. It was a day like many others at the DPD and you were commissioned by Lieutenant Anderson to buy a box of donuts and a sugared Espresso (with three sachets of sugar, as the old man rightly pointed out). When you came back to the police department, you did not find the man and his buddy at their desk, so you asked around where they were hunted and the two colleagues went to the archive. So by going down the stairs you found yourself in your destination and approaching the lieutenant, you said: ❝Lieutenant Anderson, his breakfast, I did not find you at your desk, so they told me to look for you in the archive❞ you explained while the man a little annoyed at your presence there, he took his breakfast. ❝Technically, in the archive, people not involved in detective work are not allowed, miss (y/n)❞ Connor said firmly. Initially you did not understand, but your gaze was caught by the wall in front of you. There were objects, tablets with information and … a carcass of an android. You do not know why but your heart froze for this scene.

The android was hanging on the wall, with only the bust, with a side, shoulder, cheek and temple wounded by a firearm. This meant that the bright blue biocomponents could flow on the carcass. Even his arms had been brutally uprooted from his body. Your stomach was twisting through the malaise and regret, what had happened to that android…? With a thousand questions for your head, follow your obedient followers out of that dark and sinister underground.

↪ ᴀ ғᴇᴡ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ

❝Connor can I ask you something?❞ you asked, approaching his desk. He looked up intently in the eyes, as if he were studying your soul … that he was studying you to collect data? ❝Sure Miss (y/n), I am at your disposal❞ he replied with a formal gesture. You bit your lip slightly uncomfortable. ❝I…That android in the archive…what happened to him?❞ you asked, scratching your temple with your index finger. Connor seemed to hesitate for a few moments, the bright circle on his temple turned red, then yellow and then blue again. Did you perhaps touch a few sore keys? ❝He was called Daniel, Model PL600. He worked for the Philips family❞ he began to tell ❝One day his family decided to replace him with a more efficient and advanced model … This caused Daniel to unleash a malfunction, making him a deviant and consequently a danger for those who could surround him❞ said the android clearing his voice suddenly becoming gloomy. His LED turned yellow ❝He took the daughter of the Philips, Emma, ​​made her become hostage and going with her on the balcony, after killing her father, he threatened to throw himself into the void with the child…❞ you took a chair to sit next to you to your colleague ❝I was immediately assigned to the thing, I am a prototype of Cyberlife involved in these tasks. I convinced Daniel to let the girl go, but I could not guarantee him the same salvation…❞ admitted the android looking in his eyes, as if his own had become ice. ❝So as soon as I had the opportunity, I signaled to the snipers to shoot him point blank instantly❞ to that statement you felt the earth almost disappear under your feet. Did Connor really be able to do such a subtle and cruel thing? With a lump in my throat, you stood up for a moment watching that icy and formal machine. ❝Thank you Connor … for your cooperation❞ you said and then left.

❝Miss (y/n)…❞ Connor called you making you turn ❝I know what you think…his heartbeat is the proof❞ he commented and then look you in the eye again ❝I am a machine, not a monster and that was my task❞ …Yeah, just a machine. Yet the actions that Daniel had committed were all but the result of a technological device. He was alive, but society suppressed him before he could take his first breath.

↪ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ…

You were in your apartment, immersed in your thoughts. Daniel, the story of the deviant, was a topic that has always been current in this last period in Detroit, but until now it seemed to have turned only around you and did not enter your head. You did not want this to happen again, you wanted Daniel to be happy, free, alive. And yes, you would have gone against everyone, your boss your colleagues, Anderson, Connor, the Cyberlife. Was it really worth it to get out of the pawns of society? Yes, it was worth it.

You took a day off, pretending you sick. Those shirkers would buy donuts and coffee alone. You ordered some spare parts compatible with the PL600 model, for you to remember the codes and the necessary arts was a breeze (thanks to a degree in mechanical engineering). Unfortunately you had to say goodbye to many of your savings, but this was also a real challenge to understand to what extent your skills could go. The courier arrived the same evening and leaving the necessary at home, you headed to the DPD with the intent of approaching the archive. As you expected, there were still some people inside. Without making you notice too much, you wore the clothes of the departmental cleaning company, you approached the archive and with a few moves succeeded in hacking the security system and infiltrating inside. Here he is, in front of you … you were still in time to renounce this plan so crazy, but now you were determined to end this madness. Carefully, you took the android’s bust and put it in a trash bag and quickly left the store, you said you had to go throwing out the trash.

Return home to lay the body on your bed covered with sheets of cellophane. Did you know that the biocomponents would have stained every corner of your house and in addition to your money thrown away, you could not even throw away your house. You worked all night, without stopping, and when the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains of your house, you looked at the now completely reassembled body. The worst was done, now the operating system had to be reactivated, but it was several times that you tried to revive it and you could not finish anything. Esausta tried again one last time and with eyes heavy now decided to move away from the body of Daniel, for a few minutes to drink a cup of coffee to awaken a bit. You were busy drinking a cup of coffee while watching over the lifeless android, when suddenly his torso rose and the expression on his face was on the verge of shock. ❝EMMA❞ he screamed and then took an asthmatic breath. It scared you so much, that the steaming cup fell to the ground and shattered on your parquet. ❝WHO ARE YOU? DO NOT CLOSE TO ME! WHERE I AM? WHERE IS EMMA?!❞ he said as he tried in every way to get up from the ground, falling very roughly, however, for the lack of balance.We tried to approach you avoiding in every way to scratch with the shards of the cup. near the bed, where Daniel stood and gently, almost fearfully, touched his shoulders.“Daniel…”

❝DO NOT TOUCH ME❞ screamed in terror, making you almost shiver ❝I…I do not want to be deactivated! I…I…I do not want to die…❞ he said with tears in his eyes.

❝Daniel, I am (y/n) and I work for the DPD…❞

❝Are you a policeman then?!❞ he asked in terror and on the defensive.

��No…I’m just an assistant…I do not center anything with the cases on you deviant❞

❝So why are you here…?❞ he asked, looking at you, perplexed.

❝I … I saw you, dead in the archive, they told me what happened to you and …❞

❝Connor lied to me…❞ the android commented with disdain.

❝I know…I could not think that they had destroyed you in such a despicable way…of course, I know, you got overwhelmed by your emotions and…blinded by anger you killed people…❞

❝Mr. Philips lied to me! I thought they loved me but instead…I was just a toy❞ the blonde replied, bursting into tears.

❝You’re not a toy for me, Daniel❞ you said seriously, while he looked at you in amazement. Hesitant you approached some fingers in his golden hair, trying to put them back in their place ❝When I saw you…In the archive I heard something and when they told me what you did…something clicked, in my heart there was something that screamed at me to bring you back to life, because I knew that despite your mistakes you just wanted to live and be free❞

The android seemed to have calmed down and looking around it seemed as if it were scanning the place, but at the same time it was elaborating the current situation. ❝So now you’re the one in trouble❞ he commented, casting a fleeting glance at you. At that moment it seemed that all the consequences of your plan so immature and crazy, came to the surface like an anomalous wave overwhelming you in full. ❝…Probably❞ you said almost not wanting to admit it. Daniel got out of bed looking for some clothes to wear. ❝Prepare your stuff…❞ he ordered impassively leaving you puzzled enough ❝And I want a car, as soon as we can leave and cross the border…No bastard cop will find us❞ he said with a sure tone, giving you his back. ❝I trust you, (y/n)❞ the android murmured, looking in the mirror, noting that it reflected your figure still sitting on the ground ❝See not to destroy it or I will leave you in the middle of the road❞

[zigratbites]

100 followers fic For: @bishophazel for the prompt “Richard and Flake trade bodies” Read here or at AO3 Title: Switch and Swap Fandom: Rammstein Rating: Mature Category: M/M Relationship: Flake/Richard Kruspe Characters: the whole gang Additional tags: bodyswap, sex, masturbation, crack, bickering

Summary: Richard and Flake switch bodies due to a possibly magical mishap.

A/N: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Also this got a bit out of hand. Shh, it’s a drabble! 4,500 words of it!

Switch and Swap

Flake crossed his arms over his muscular chest. “This is all your fault!”

Richard blinked at him owlishly and groped for the glasses Flake had slammed on the table.

“How is this my fault?” he snapped. “I have no idea how this… this happened!” Richard gestured down at the bony, lanky body he was currently occupying. Annoyance turned to horror as he put the glasses on and saw his own body staring daggers at him in a very Flake-like expression of disapproval.

“I don’t know yet, but it must have been something you did. I have been reading quietly in my room all night. Managed to piss off some groupie who happened to be a witch?”

“What? No! I mean, there might have been some girls who claimed to be wiccans, but they were too young by about twenty years. Wiccans, not witches. Besides, that’s all bullshit!” Richard cringed at his accent, every word coming out of his mouth leaping in strange directions.

“Well, some bullshit has got us mixed up in wrong bodies! Seems like a curse to me.”

“A curse? Thanks a lot, that’s really appreciative of you! There’s got to be a reason though, things like this don’t just happen… right?”

Flake sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose where glasses would normally have pressed down. It was downright uncanny for Richard to see Flake’s expressions flitting over his own face. Otherwise, he didn’t feel particularly cursed. His clothes hung on him in very unflattering ways, and he kept bumping into things because suddenly distances and dimensions had changed, but it didn’t feel like he was inside a wrong body. As long as he didn’t look in a mirror, that was.

“All right,” Flake said. “What are the last things we remember before this hit us? I was reading, and all of a sudden the text became blurry and my clothes were several sizes too small. Thanks for the ripped seams, by the way.”

Richard didn’t have a death wish, really, but everything about this was too absurd not to be hilarious. “You’re saying I’m ripped? I rarely hear compliments from you.”

“Richard Zven Kruspe, if you don’t get serious this fucking second, I’m going to take this body and do some really unpleasant things to it. Think of haircuts, ugly-ass tattoos, shaving off your bloody eyebrows.”

Richard stared at him. “That’s low, Flake. I didn’t think you’d resort to holding my body hostage.”

“I will, if you won’t start cooperating with me right now!”

“All right, all right. I think I was here in the common room, yeah, bored like hell because there was nothing to do and I was too tired to go out. There were some gifts sent by the fans on the table, and I was tinkering with them. There was this odd-shaped bottle with some clear yellow drink inside...”

Flake glared at him. Richard hadn’t known he could look that frightening. But maybe it was just Flake.

“Don’t tell me you drank it.”

“I’m not an idiot. I just opened it to take a sniff, to figure out what it was. Something sweet and citrusy. I thought it was lemonade.”

“And?”

“That was it. I closed the bottle, started on a movie, fell asleep on the couch. And woke up like this.”

Flake stomped over to the table and went through the haphazard pile of items. He pulled out a round glass bottle with a tiny label filled with spidery writing.

“Is this it?”

“Yeah. See, I didn’t drink any of it!”

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Flake squinted his eyes at the label. “I can’t make out the rest, but it’s signed warlock something or other. With lots of love. Ugh. This didn’t stop you?”

“Well, I didn’t read it...”

“Great. Lovely. Apparently the fumes were enough for the curse to take effect.”

“How come you were affected, too?”

“I passed through the room when I came back from a walk. I remember seeing you out cold on the couch.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. How are you going to fix this?”

Richard spread his newly spindly arms. “How should I know? And how do you know it’s a curse? It doesn’t say that in the instructions, does it?”

“I can’t read the instructions. The ink’s been smudged. I think this person has a very odd idea of love.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait it out, then.”

Flake pointed a finger at him. “I am not the one who’s going to explain this to the guys.”

The others. The upcoming concert. Shit.

“Do you think we must explain it?” Richard asked hesitantly. “It could always wear off in time.”

“It better, or otherwise I’ll have to learn to play the guitar very quickly. Good luck with the keys. I’m going to bed.”

Flake slammed the door shut behind him with perhaps more force than he’d intended. Richard was left sitting on the couch, deep in thought.

The night had brought no solutions, magical or otherwise. The only improvement was that Richard had grown more comfortable with this set of limbs.

“Flake.”

“Huh?” Richard remembered to glance up from his magazine.

“You’re wearing nail polish.” Olli looked a bit concerned.

“Yes?” Painting his nails had made Richard feel more at home in his new body. So had chain-smoking.

“It’s purple.”

“So what?” Richard huffed. “It’s a free country, isn’t it?”

Till entered the room, took off his sunglasses and looked Richard up and down in a way he’d never really been subjected to.

“Nice,” Till commented. “Though you know you didn’t need to go to all that effort,” he added in a low voice as he ruffled Richard’s hair in passing. Richard was left staring after him. That was… interesting.

Richard was jolted out of his thoughts as his voice – Flake’s voice – cut the air like ice.

“Rich… Flake. I need a word with you. Right now.”

Richard looked up like a deer in the headlights. Did he really look that imposing when he was mad? Because Flake most certainly was, and the effect wasn’t diminished at all by the fact that he was wearing Richard’s oldest hoodie and his hair was sticking out in all directions.

Richard got up from the couch like a marionette pulled by strings.

“Okay. I’ll be right back with you guys.”

“Flake, are you sure you’re all right? You sound odd,” Till said, way too perceptive.

Richard was practically beginning to sweat. He let out a nervous laugh.

“Yes, just give us a moment.”

He escaped to the corridor where Flake promptly slammed him against the wall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, glowering at Richard.

“What do you mean?” Richard tried to move, but he couldn’t budge. Flake had quite a bit of mass on him now. “Keep your voice down!”

“What the hell is all that?”

Flake let go of Richard to gesture wildly at his… everything, really. Richard smoothed his clothes and glared back at Flake.

“Is this the thanks I get? After I was nice enough to take your body shopping and all!”

“I… You… That is not me!”

“I totally agree. This is me. Right now I’m stuck in this body, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to wear something that suits me.”

“Black and white stripes,” Flake moaned. “Eyeliner. Goddamn skinny-fit jeans.”

“Always wanted to try them. You’ve got the legs for it, I gotta say.” Richard smiled happily.

“How did you even find my contacts? And what have you done with my hair?”

“It’s a wonder what proper hair products can do. You should let your hair down more often. I won’t comment on what you have done with mine, since apparently it’s fuck all.”

For a moment Flake seemed to be lost for words. His face changed colors. “You are not supposed to have fun!”

“Why the hell not?”

“It’s – disrespectful! That’s my body you’re wearing!”

“Along with some very nice, fitting clothes, yes. What’s the fuss? I fully expect you to take advantage of this situation, you know.”

“I – you – what?”

“Come on, don’t you feel at least a little bit curious?”

“No. We are not going down this road. And you’re not taking my body down there, either!”

“Right. No. Absolutely not.”

Flake narrowed his eyes at Richard.

“I don’t want to know what you have been up to. But if I find out about it, I’ll kill you. And no smoking!” he added as Richard reached for a pack of smokes in the infinitesimal pocket of the tight, not at all good-looking jeans. “I don’t want your cancer.”

Richard let out a forlorn sigh.

“Fine. But you can’t expect me to stay cooped up here. Otherwise the guys will figure me out, Till and Olli are already suspecting something. I’m going for a walk.”

“Okay. I suppose that is like me. Go on, remove your presence before you ruin everything.”

Flake watched his body leave, donned in combat boots and a leather jacket. It should have looked wrong – it did – but something in the way Richard moved, like he expected everyone to be impressed, created some sort of an optical illusion. He must have practiced it in front of a mirror. God knew what else he had practiced. Suddenly Flake had the sinking feeling that he shouldn’t have let Richard out of his sight for a minute.

Too late now. Flake retreated to his room, not really willing to play Richard for a perceptive audience.

He was feeling too jittery to concentrate on anything. He’d traded rooms with Richard for the sake of appearances, and there just happened to be a huge, gaudy mirror in this one. Every glance in the mirror told Flake how badly this body fit him. He didn’t usually think about his appearance too much. It didn’t really matter to him. But now he felt acutely like a skinny, weird dude in glasses trapped inside a well-cared for suit of muscle and meticulously plucked eyebrows.

Ah, what the hell. Richard was out there doing who knew what with his body, and Flake wasn’t immune to curiosity. He shrugged out of the hoodie and stepped closer to the mirror to inspect his new body. It wasn’t really news to him that Richard shaved his armpits and chest, only he’d never paid much attention to it. Now he looked, and looked some more, and then took off his undershirt.

He hadn’t ever felt particularly attracted to Richard – a frustrating personality came as a part of the package deal – but looking at it all from the inside was… different. He run his hands over the muscled arms, felt at the absurd chest muscles and the toned stomach. Little hairs raised up in his arms. At least Richard didn’t shave those. He craned his head and poked at his chin. There was very little flab anywhere. Richard seemed to take good care of himself.

Inevitably his hands strayed to the waistband of his pants. He hesitated. It wasn’t like it was something he hadn’t seen before. But he had to admit that seeing and feeling everything from this angle was rather different. He told himself that Richard had very likely already done this to his body, what with his talk of taking advantage and all. Yes, Flake was sure of it. He pushed his hand down the front of his pants and let out a huff of air at the feel of the strange-familiar touch. The sensation was weird, but kind of amazing at the same time. Any qualms forgotten, he shucked the pants and looked at his new body in all of its naked glory.

Richard stared back at him from the mirror, a bit more hunched and awkward than usual, but still. Flake bit his lip at seeing his hand on his – Richard’s – cock. Just a bit of exploration, he told himself. You got to try everything once, right? And this wasn’t going to get a repeat performance, not if he had anything to say about it. He’d stop any minute now. He’d let go of the nice, hardening cock in his grasp and go wash his hands and probably his brain of all the richardness of it. Yes, any time now. His other hand slid down the muscular thighs, his eyes glued to the mirror. Was this what Richard looked like when he was jerking off, or was it more Flake? He didn’t know, he wouldn’t have done it in front of a mirror. But he bet Richard would.

Flake flinched as come spattered on the mirror and he came back to his senses. He was panting hard, his forehead pressed against the cool surface. He looked down at his hands with dawning horror. What had he just done? Pleasure buzzed in his mind – this body felt really nice after an orgasm, all mellow and – no, he wasn’t thinking about that!

A shower. That was what he needed, preferably a cold one. After Flake had done that, put on Richard’s most casual clothes again and taken care of the mirror – don’t think, don’t think – he felt almost normal. As normal as possible in these circumstances. His stomach rumbled, and he looked at the clock. It was late already. He should go and get something to eat while he could, but that meant possibly running into the others. Instead, he took out his laptop and started looking for quick guitar tutorials and cures for magical ailments.

There was a knock at his door. Flake hesitated for a moment, then put the laptop down. It’d be weirder if he didn’t answer.

“Come on, I know you’re in there!” Flake heard his own impatient voice through the door. Great. He wrenched the door open.

It was Richard, of course, balancing two pizza boxes and a pack of beer on top of them. He waltzed right in, grinning in a way that was really disconcerting, and set his haul on the table with a flourish.

“What are you doing?” Flake asked him rather coldly – mostly because he still felt vaguely guilty about the mirror episode. He felt his face flushing. He hadn’t known Richard blushed this easily.

“Bringing you food. I’m not letting you starve me.” Richard flopped down in the only armchair, a bit uncoordinated. “Umph. You really are a lightweight, you know.”

“Have you been drinking?” Flake glared at him. “You better hope we don’t switch back before you’ve dealt with the hangover!”

“It seemed like the only sensible thing to do.” Richard didn’t look the least bit remorseful. On the contrary, he seemed to be quite happy. “Also I had an awesome night, and I felt like I ought to thank you.”

“You – what? Richard, what did you do?”

“You always expect the worst of me,” Richard sighed morosely. “I hit the best gay bar in town, of course.”

“You did not.”

“Sure did. I never thought I’d get to experience one in such a twink body. I didn’t have to pay for a single drink!”

Flake stared at him, at the messed-up eyeliner and drink-blurry eyes, and at lips which were redder and more puffy than they ought to have been.

“How exactly did you pay, then?”

“Oh come on, I was just flirting around. Nothing serious. I wouldn’t do that to you, honest. But you were a hit, I’ll let you know.” Richard hiccuped. “Your pizza is getting cold. Flake, you look odd.”

Richard hadn’t… and he had… Flake gulped. He felt the blush returning and ran his hand through his hair, messing it up even worse. A beer sounded like a really good idea right now. His fingers fumbled on the packaging.

“Flake, is everything all right?”

“Fine. Better than fine. Which pizza is yours? Oh, there’s onion in this one, disgusting. It must be yours.” Flake downed half a beer in one go and started to cough.

“Something is going on.” Richard fixed surprisingly sharp eyes on him. “Don’t try to fool me. What happened?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I stayed in all night, so there is no way anything could have happened.” Shit, his mouth was running as fast as Richard’s in an interview. He sank down on the floor and tried to concentrate on eating. At least it would stop him from talking.

Flake saw a sly smile spread over his own features as the gears turned in Richard’s mind.

“In all night? Flake, what have you been up to? You know you can tell me anything.”

“I can’t. Because nothing happened. Now can you please shut up?”

“No, because you’re lying to me. I know what I look like when I’ve had sex, you know. And I’ve never seen you blush that much. Do I do that? I hope not.”

Flake groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Can we just forget about this?”

He flinched as he felt Richard’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s not that serious. It’s not like I mind. Was it any good?”

“No. Yes. No. I want to get rid of this bloody curse as soon as possible! I want things to get back to normal.” Flake drank the rest of his beer and reached for another. “This is messing with my head. And turning me into an alcoholic.”

Richard bit at his lip, worrying it between his teeth.

“Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of my body? I mean, I don’t see there’s much wrong with it.”

“And are you saying you’re happy?” Flake snapped. He gestured down at himself. “Changing from this to… me? I would have thought you’d get rash just thinking about it. You didn’t even try to...”

“Jerk off? Have sex? Arrange an orgy of debauchery?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’d have done it if you hadn’t threatened to kill me.”

Flake looked up at him.

“You would?”

“It is making you feel better. Okay, how about this: I only came home this early because I couldn’t stop wondering what it’d be like to have sex with myself. In this body of yours, which you don’t appreciate half enough.”

Flake blinked. “That’s simultaneously the most self-absorbed and complimentary thing I’ve ever heard from you.”

“Well, what do you think?” Richard looked at him hopefully.

“Are you serious about this? And not just drunk?”

“I’m not that drunk,” Richard claimed. He did seem to have sobered up considerably when the possibility of sex seemed to be on the table. “And I’m always serious when it comes to sex.”

Flake sighed. “Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to have sex with my doppelgänger – who happens to be you?”

“You can think about it as masturbation, if that helps.”

Flake coughed. It did seem slightly unfair that Richard had been considerate, for once, while he had completely failed in that respect. The body he was wearing certainly didn’t seem to mind the idea.

“Fine,” he conceded. “This is madness anyway, why not take it to the next level?”

“Such enthusiasm,” Richard said, but he had already clambered out of the chair and was climbing into Flake’s lap. He stared at his own face closely. “Damn, this is strange.”

“You don’t say –” Flake’s words were swallowed as Richard pressed their mouths together. He didn’t know what to do with a lapful of a very enthusiastic Richard who was kissing him dirtily, straddling him with ease. His hands came to rest on Richard’s slim waist on top of the godawful shirt. It was the oddest thing, knowing exactly how your partner’s body worked, and likewise. It had been a while since he’d been kissed with such fervor. Trust Richard to have the hots for himself…

Flake shifted and realized how easy it was to maneuver Richard in this body. A hot rush ran through him at the thought. Flake run his large hands all over Richard’s waist and back, pulling the offending shirt off him. Richard made a complaining noise as the kiss was broken, but he was just as eager to get his clothes off.

“This is the best idea I’ve ever had,” he announced.

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever agreed to,” Flake countered, but it didn’t stop him from picking Richard up and carrying him towards the bed. Richard wrapped his long legs around Flake, beaming at him.

“Now you’re getting it,” he said, and laughed as he was dropped on the bed. “No one ever does that to me.”

Flake hadn’t really considered it. The thought that Richard might enjoy a joyride in his body had felt ridiculous. But there he was, sprawling on the bed and getting rid of his clothes with an enthusiasm which couldn’t really be faked. Well, if that was the case, Flake might as well do what he damn well pleased while in this body. And right now he felt like getting naked in bed with Richard, who was staring at him with open appreciation.

“Will you fuck me?” The words rushed out of Richard’s mouth. “Please say you want to.”

“I...” Flake was thrown off by the way his weight settled on top of Richard. He would have felt smothered like that, but Richard only opened his legs wider and tried to pull Flake closer, his fingers skirting down Flake’s arms. His cock certainly agreed to Richard’s request, pressing hard between their stomachs. “Yes.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

“Do you – condoms and –”

“Yeah, yeah. Gimme my jeans.”

Flake picked them up from the floor and went through the pockets. He squinted at Richard suspiciously as he found what he was looking for.

“An innocent night out, was it?”

“A habit, that’s all. It never hurts to be prepared. Come on, I was saving myself for you!”

Flake shuddered. “I never want to hear those words out of your mouth again.”

“Well, technically it’s yours...”

A large hand covered Richard’s mouth, and he glowered up at Flake. A rather evil grin spread across Flake’s face. He caught Richard’s wrists and brought them over his head, holding them down one-handed.

“I’m starting to see a few advantages to this situation.”

And that was how Flake ended up fucking Richard into the mattress, wearing Richard’s body and watching his own face twisting in ecstasy, while Richard was squirming and moaning under him and staring at himself with lust-filled eyes. It was nothing like masturbation. It was so much more fucked up. It was so much better.

Flake felt lighter afterwards, and oddly like craving a cigarette. He glanced at Richard who lay beside him, panting and blissed-out. At least it seemed like Flake’s body had enjoyed the experience. Without even opening his eyes, Richard fumbled for his smokes. He seemed to have an uncanny ability for locating them – currently in the pocket of his jacket. Flake picked them out of his hand.

“Hey!” Richard protested, frowning at him. “Let me have my moment.”

“Not while in my body.” Flake lit a cigarette, because apparently Richard’s body agreed with his mind on post-coital smoking. It was also worth it to see the look on Richard’s face. Flake hoped he never wore that kicked-puppy look himself. He took a pull of the cigarette and turned to kiss Richard, deep and thorough. Richard let out a contented sigh and practically melted against him.

Out of the blue, Flake was taken over by an odd sensation. The world twisted, he saw faint golden-yellow sparks in his peripheral vision, and then it felt like he was lifted out of his body gently as a feather. His own body received him like a comfortable sweater. Flake blinked and saw Richard sitting up beside him, still holding onto his cigarette.

“What the actual fuck,” Richard said in his ordinary voice.

Enormous relief washed over Flake.

“The effect –” he refused to say magic – “seems to have worn off. I believe you don’t need to learn a new instrument after all.”

“Oh, because you’d totally rock the guitar? Please.”

Flake glared at him. “We don’t have to start bickering immediately just because we’re back in our own bodies. And for the record, you like your sex way too rough.”

“Well, excuse me, that was all your doing.”

Flake couldn’t think of a good retort to that. And he couldn’t deny that he was feeling good, not really up to untangling the mess of whose fault what was. Richard had wisely retreated a bit to give him space, but a small smile was still tugging at his mouth.

“I knew you had it in you, you know,” he said and ducked as Flake tried to swat at him.

“Shut up. I wonder why we changed back, though. Did it just wear off in time?” Flake mused, cringing at the mess they had made of the bed.

“Don’t you know how magic works? We fixed it all by having mind-blowing sex. Lots of love, didn’t it say so on the label?”

“Richard? Please shut up. I’m going to take a shower. Alone. And then go to sleep and forget any of this ever happened.”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

Flake was uncomfortably certain he still felt Richard’s speculative eyes on him as he crossed the room.

“By the way, Flake? I think you should have a talk with Till. It’s about time, too.”

Flake paused by the bathroom door.

”Why?”

“Because he admired my jeans and told me you wouldn’t even need to go to any effort.”

Flake was not having this discussion with Richard of all people. After having had sex with him. In switched bodies. He escaped into the bathroom while his heart was busy doing somersaults. Damn Richard.

“You better be gone when I get out of here,” he shouted through the door.

“So cold,” he heard Richard answer, but then there was the rustle of clothing being collected. “And just so you know – I’d do that again, magic or no magic.”

Flake turned on the shower to drown him out.

In the morning, the whole gang met at breakfast. Flake had discovered a score of embarrassing hickeys and bite marks which he’d covered with a scarf to avoid annoying commentary. Richard was practically glowing, full of energy. But when it came to the others…

Flake stared at Paul who ducked down to avoid hitting his head on a lamp, and at Schneider who unfortunately did not. Till and Olli looked over the scene with mounting confusion. Flake, on the other hand, felt the urge to bang his head on the table.

“Richard?” he said slowly. “What happened to that bottle?”

“We left it at the… Oh.”

“No. This isn’t happening,” Flake groaned.

“Are you talking about the bottle of lemonade someone left in the common room?” Schneider asked, a strangely Paul-like expression of innocence on his face. “Because I drank it all. Sorry.”

Richard started to laugh. Both Paul and Schneider stared at him, while Flake kicked at his leg under the table, willing him to shut up. Richard was undeterred.

“You’re in luck, guys. I know how to fix this. With lots of love.”

[ellana-ravenwood]

Sneaky bastard - Bruce Wayne x Reader (Erotica)

Since I have no shame, yet another smutty story (it’s been a while). It’s not just smut though, there’s a plot, and there’s lots of fluff. I just hope you’ll like  :

IMPORTANT WARNING : THIS IS EROTICA ! THIS IS NOT FOR YOU IF YOU ARE UNDERAGED, I GODDAMN MEAN IT. Like there’s cute and sweet feelings in the mix, but also...smut, so if you’re not 18 or more, or if you’re not comfortable with that sort of things etc etc, this story ain’t for you. I have tons of other very SFW story, for averyone to read, and if you wanna check those out instead, it’s right here, on My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives.

_____________________________________________________________________

If someone would have told you a few weeks ago that you’d save the goddamn Batman, you’d probably would have laughed in their faces. It seemed so ridiculous, that a rookie such as you, who literally joined the forces not even a month before, would ever save a man like the Dark Knight. 

And yet, it happened. And it was wicked awesome.

*********************

He was fighting a bunch of thugs in a back alley, when you came by. You weren’t even gonna intervene, you knew the man, you already saw him roaming Gotham City before you became a cop, he could definitely handle himself...But then, you noticed one of the guy he was fighting take a few steps back, and draw a gun. It was pointed right at the bat’s head and he was going to pull the trigger in a matter of seconds ! 

You didn’t think, you acted. You jumped in the alley, surprising all of them, and with an expertly done high kick, you got the gun out of the man’s hand, knocking him down with a mean left hook. Damn, you turned into a total badass under the adrenaline ! 

Batman quickly got rid of the las few thugs, and turned to you. Suddenly, you didn’t feel that excited anymore, the man was impressive. So tall. Large. Muscular. Yeah ok, he was totally sexy. 

He turned his weird glowy white gaze on you, and, with a voice too rough and low to be human, asked you : 

-Are you alright ? This was very foolish to jump in like that, I didn’t need your help. You could have been very hurt. 

-Yeah I’m alright, and like Hell you didn’t need my help, I totally saved your life dude, be more thankful ! Jeez louiiise. 

-...

-Wow. Ok. So you’re an ass. 

-The ass can give you a ride to the nearest hospital, you’re bleeding. 

-What ? 

He pointed to your arm, and...oh. Yeah. You got shot. Damn. 

-I didn’t even feel it...

-Must be the rush of epinephrine in your blood. Come on, follow me. 

-Wow wait, you’re gonna give me a ride...in the batmobile ?! 

-Do you see any other car ? Climb in, and do not touch anything. 

You tried to keep your cool. To act like it was no big deal...but the adrenaline in your veins doubled in volume as you sat in the car you so often dreamt of riding when you were a child. Fuck this was great ! 

He drove you to the nearest hospital, without saying a word, and almost threw you out of the car. Ass. 

Your wound wasn’t deep, a bullet just grazed you and you only needed a few stitches, you were out two hours later. You went home by foot, because walking always cleared your mind, and damn it needed to be clear right now. Anyway, you weren’t living too far away. 

You just saved the Batman ! YOU JUST SAVE THE BATMAN !! 

After a quick shower, you were finally calmed, and decided to do some laundry, as your small apartment’s floor was littered with dirty clothes. While emptying your pockets, you found a note in the jean you were wearing today. 

“Thank you for saving my life, 

_The Ass who drove you to the hospital”

Ha. A thank you note. How lame. And yet, you kept the little piece of paper, because you felt it wasn't every day that the famous Dark Knight wrote thank you notes, and it was a collectible. 

********************

After that, you ended in Batman’s way a lot. You weren’t doing it on purpose. Not at all. You decided to be a cop because you wanted to help people, and not because you had a death wish. Constantly getting in the way of criminals and Batman wasn’t really in your intentions. And yet, it seemed Destiny really wanted you guys to work together, because every time you were on patrol (you mostly took night shift...I wonder why), your pass crossed that Bat’s. 

On the dock, while a drug deal was going on. You saved him again, but, to be fair, he also saved you after you got knocked out and fell into the freezing water of Gotham’s bay. Another ride in the bat mobile, another silent trip, and another note : “Thanks, but you also owe me one. I hope I won’t see you again.” Wow. Ok. Ass. 

In front of the most famous bank in Gotham, during a robbery. You saved the hostages while Batman was kicking some ass. This time, no hospital, and no notes either, just a nod from him, and many thanks from the people you saved. 

In the sewer, going after Killer Croc. Granted, it was a terrible idea, you were terrified of crocodiles. And yet. You and Batman took him down. And when you told him your fear of crocodiles, he seemed impressed that you fought anyway. Again, no hospital nor notes, but a smirk on his face, and a “see you later ?”.

It just kept happening, wherever you went during your patrol, wherever you were called on, he was there. It became a habit. He found that having someone valuable and trustworthy in the police was helpful, you found that having the Batman on your side was FUCKING helpful. In six months in the forces, you became the most decorated rookie in Gotham’s police history. You also became the Dark Knight’s first real sidekick (as James Gordon was more of an occasional partner than anything). And it was great. 

So great that Bruce Wayne found himself irrevocably attracted to you...He tried to resist, because in his line of work, there was no place for a relationship. But you were so brave, beautiful, optimistic, intelligent...And one day, he found himself “meeting you for the first time”, “randomly” while you were going home from work (and him from his nightly patrol). Alfred is the one that convinced him. A woman like you, fighting so fiercely for your city’s safety, and not judging one bit his Batman persona (except that you still thought he was kind of an ass) ? Well, you didn’t find a woman like that at each street’s corner, and if he had a shot at ever being happy, it was with you. He had to give it a try. And what could he loose if it wasn’t working out ? (Everything. The answer was everything, but he didn’t know that for now, he wasn’t in love yet). 

And so, as Bruce Wayne, he wooed you...and you couldn’t help but fall for his charming ways. You knew it was a bad idea, he was known to be a womanizer, but...How to resist a guy like that ? He was so sexy, smart, funny, and most of all, he made his life goal to make Gotham safer with the money his company brought him, and also by financing the Batman. How could you resist a guy like that ? 

***************

At night, you fought by the Caped Crusader’s side, sometimes getting injured, but it would never be life threatening. He would never let you be in a life threatening situation anyway...He made sure the cases you helped him on required mostly brain work, and few fightings. And when fights there was, he always kept an eye on your back. Against his better judgement, he started to fall for you...And you for him. 

By day, whenever he had a day off, or even a few hours free in the afternoon (as you were sleeping late in the morning, you know, night shifts...and that was good, because him too was sleeping late), you were with him too. Only, you didn't know it was him. For you, it was Bruce Wayne. And you felt guilty that you slowly started to fall in love with him too...Fuck, in what mess did you got yourself, falling in love with a night vigilante, and a billionaire playboy ? 

***************

Another six months passed, and things were going great. The Batman seemed to trust you, which was something right ? You’ve been helping him (wether he wanted it or not) for the past year, and that got you a promotion as a detective. How fucking awesome was that ? 

Oh, and you started to date Bruce Wayne seriously. Like, it was official. There was pictures of you two in the paper and all, and he didn’t deny you being his girlfriend. On the contrary. It felt great to be the one who caught the great Bruce Wayne’s heart. You still wondered what he saw in you though, the first time you met you were coming back from work, without any make-up and disheveled, highly unattractive...and yet, you ended up giving him your number. Incredible. 

Little did you know that he fell for you while under the Batman’s cowl...but of course, could only make his move as Bruce Wayne. 

***************

You were a bit more tired than usual that night, and so, a bit distracted. 

You didn’t see the Scarecrow jumping out of a dark place to corner you. And the Dark Knight wasn’t fast enough to stop the mad man before he sprayed his fear toxin on you. 

The rest of the night went by in a blur, all you could remember was a gut churning fear, and a few images. Bruce dying. Batman dying. Kids you were sure you never saw before dying. In your heart, you know those four boys you kept seeing falling were your sons, but you didn’t have any sons. Hell, you were too young to think about that. And yet. Fear. Everything was terrifying, dark, and scary. 

When you finally came to your senses, you saw the Bat’s face first, and you couldn’t stop yourself from hugging him. Safe. He was safe. Everything were just hallucinations. Nothing more. He hugged you back...

***************

And so, that’s how you found yourself in the bat cave, your tongue in the goddamn Batman’s mouth, his hand slipping under your shirt. You couldn’t deny anymore that there was some sort of attraction between him and you, and he...Well, he was also Bruce, and kissing you was just a habit of his. He just forgot that you didn’t know who he really was...

But his way of kissing you, of touching you, reminded you of your Bruce...it was impossible however, you must be wrong. Anyway, Bruce was on a business trip in France. And he wouldn’t have lied to you. They wouldn’t have lied to you. 

And suddenly, you felt awfully guilty. Your tongue and the Dark Knight’s were wrestling each other, and all you could think about was your boyfriend. You pulled away, and took his hand out of your shirt. 

-Hum...

-Is something wrong ? 

-...Yes. I can’t do that. I...I’m in a steady relationship right now and...Well, I love him. 

-Ah. Bruce Wayne ? 

-Your benefactor. 

-Yeees...

It was awkward, you had to leave. He understood, and drove you to your apartment. In silence. When you existed the car though, you almost thought you saw him smile. Not just a smirk, a full on smile, and somehow, this smile reminded you of someone, you just couldn’t pinpoint who. You said your goodbyes, and that was that. Well. A chapter of your life was over. And you just couldn’t be that bummed out with Bruce in it...You just wished the Batman would have his place in too. 

***************

A few days passed, and you avoided the caped crusader. It was better like that. You took care of other things at night. It was better like that. So why your heart kept tightening whenever you thought about never seeing him again ? 

Bruce’s hand slipping in yours got you out of your daydreams, and erased any worries. No. It was better like that. You and the Batman would have no future, but you and Bruce ? Things could happen. Right ? 

-Hey you. 

-Hey, I missed you. 

-You were only gone for...what, three days ? 

-When every day without you feels like a year. 

-Oh you motherfucker, so cheesy. 

-You love it. 

-Maybe...Come here my Bruce. 

His kisses were the best. Soft or rough, tender or hungry...They were just the best. The flash of a camera cruelly brings the both of you back to reality. 

-Damn fucking paparazzis...

-You’ll have to get used to them if...

-If ?

-...If you’re as seriously involved in this relationship than I am. Because no matter what I can do, paparazzis always follow me. Comes with the package of being a Wayne...

-Oh.

-Oh ? 

-If it comes with the package, then so be it. 

And you went back to kiss him...until another flash almost blinded you. 

-Let’s get out of here, ok ?

-I thought you’d never say it. 

You took his hand, and guided him with you through Gotham city’s street to your apartment. It was definitely official now. Bruce Wayne had a steady girlfriend. He was taking walks with her, hands in hands, very publicly. It was on the headline of every newspaper the next day, with a picture of you two, looking ridiculously happy, walking hands in hands down the streets. 

******************

This night was going to be the night. You weren’t working, and Bruce said he could stay with you. 

This night was going to be the night. The night you were going to sleep with him for the first time. You made him wait, just to be sure he was serious, and he wasn’t considering you like another random conquest. But you waited enough, tonight...Was gonna be the night. 

You were still scared shitless though. What if he left you after that ? What if you guys weren’t actually as serious as you thought ? 

As he was sitting on your couch, you straddling him, his tongue massaging yours with passion, those thoughts plagued your mind. He felt something was wrong, and pulled away from you. 

-Ok, what is it ? 

A moment of silence, and then you replied : 

-What are we doing Bruce ? 

-Well, I was hum...French kissing you I believe. 

-I’m not talking about that, I mean...

-What do you mean ? 

-What are we ? 

-..Hum, human beings ? Made of flesh and bones ? 

-You know what I mean. 

-I thought you already knew what we were. 

-If I ask the question it means I’m not so sure no ? 

-I guess so...Well, what do you wanna be ? 

-I asked first. 

-Oh ok, so if you don’t think the same thing than me, I’m gonna be the one with a broken heart...Alright, well, here we go. I never wanted anyone in my life as bad as I want you. Here. I said it. Hell, you’re the only one I ever let paparazzis photographed me with outside of charity galas... 

-Oh...

-Oh ? 

Your mouth crashing on his was an answer enough. You whispered in his ear how important he was to you too, without using the words “I love you”, still not ready, while your hands were opening the button of his dress shirt in a frenzy. His strong arms wrapped around you, and once again, you couldn’t help but be surprised at how buff he was. The man was working out a lot...His muscles were probably as big as Batman’s ! Wait, stop. You couldn’t think about Batman right now, only Bruce was important. Because it was true, you did love him. But...No but. Only Bruce. 

His hands slipping under your shirt were enough for only him to occupy all of your thoughts. To fill you with lust and want. His shirt was off, and you dragged your nail on his well toned chest, and perfect abs. Damn perfect abs. Again, the man was working out. A lot. His calloused (why did he have calloused hand ? As far as you were concerned, his job was mostly signing paperwork and participating in boring conferences...) palm wrapped around your waist, and squeezed. Not enough to hurt, not even enough to leave mark, and that would do. Your mouth left his, and he whined a bit, but when he felt your tongue gently licking his neck, sucking on his pulse point, he kinda lost control. His hand tightened their grip, now it was enough to make some marks. Perfect. 

He tear away your shirt, ripping it to pieces. 

-That was my favorite shirt. 

-No it wasn’t, you were wearing your favorite shirt the day before yesterday, I’m guessing it’s in the laundry right now. 

-Buzzkill. 

-I certainly hope not. 

And your bra was off, his mouth attacking your tits savagely, and yet, he didn’t hurt you. On the contrary, it felt great. Your fingers went to caress his back, and with expert movements, he removed your pants and panties, laying you down on your couch, towering over you. Your fingers deftly unmade his belt and threw it somewhere in your small apartment, to then undo his button and zipper, and poof, fancy that, his pants were off too. You could clearly see the outline of his dick threw his boxers and fuck he was hard...it aroused you more than ever. 

He trailed kisses from your forehead to your lips, down your jaw, your neck, color bone, breast, stopping there to lick softly at your nipple, flicking the other one with warm fingers. And then he kept going, until he reached your thigh...He wasn’t going where you wanted however, kissing everywhere but your sex. He must have left a hundred love bites on you that night, and you couldn’t care less. Your police uniform would cover all of them anyway, and you hoped to God that he wasn’t going to invite you anywhere where wearing a dress was required in the next few days. 

You took a grip of his hair, and guided him where you wanted. You felt him smile on your skin, but damn, you hated being teased. One hand on each thigh, he spread your legs open, and looked back up to you. Fuck, eye contact was such a turn on, you were pretty sure you never got that wet ever in your life before. He noticed, two fingers running gently up and down your fold...And then, without warning, his tongue was inside you. Flicking, swirling, his nose rubbing against your clit. You never felt anything like it. What the Hell was that ? How could he make you feel so good so fast ? You came before you had time to say : “Bruce Wayne is a champ at oral”, and you were almost embarrassed that you orgasmed that fast. But damn, what that man could do with his tongue...and nose, apparently. 

He kissed his way back up, licking his lips off of your juice, and you caught his mouth with yours again, not caring one bit for the taste of yourself on his tongue. 

You wanted to return the favor, you wanted to make him feel good too, but when you grabbed his erection through his boxers, and started to rub lightly, he caught your wrist and pinned it above your head. 

-Another time maybe, right now I...I just want to be inside you. 

He was blushing a bit. How cute. You nodded. Alright. You could live with that. And you guided him to your entrance. 

-Ready ? 

You nodded once more, you couldn’t speak, you just got down from your heights, you just had no voice. 

When he pushed slowly inside you, you lost your breath too. He was...impressive. In every sense of the term. And he stretched you to the maximum, hurting you a bit, as you weren’t use to such a size. He stilled, letting you adjust to him. He saw you winced when he penetrated you, and hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. Hell, he never wanted to do it. So he waited for you to be fully ready. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him against you, pushing him even further inside, as if it was possible...And with a kiss on his shoulders, you breathed out : 

-You can go...

He looked in your eyes, twisting his neck to see you, as he was quite taller and bigger than you, and once he was sure you meant it, he slowly exited you, almost entirely, before unhurriedly pushed back in bit by bit. He found a slow and sweet pace, that allowed him to feel your entire being under him. Your breath, your heart bits, your little moans and cute squealing. 

He couldn’t stop himself from going a bit faster over, as he felt his cock thrusting in and out of you easily, slickly. You pushed him deep within you, your heels digging in his ass cheek, and he almost lost control. 

You wanted it faster. Harder. And you voiced your need. Thanks god. Because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to retain himself to pound into you mercilessly much longer. 

Again, this was the first time you felt that way. The only few men you had sex with never felt like that, never felt that good, and that perfect inside you. As if you were made for him, and him for you. 

He was sucking on your neck lovingly, and your nails scratched his back, as he relentlessly hammered into you. You dragged his head to your face, and kissed him. Hard. He responded obviously, as his hips expertly rolled against yours. 

You met him thrust for thrust, and your movement made him groan in pleasure. He might be a sex god, but you weren’t too bad yourself. You had some moves. And you used all of them on you. At some point, you felt his hands stilling your waist, and his short breath on your neck. 

-Stop, or I’m not going to last. 

-Stop what ? 

-You know damn well what I’m talking about (Y/N), stop this thing you do with your hips. 

-You mean...that. 

And you reeled your hips against his, making him take a deep breath, and suppressing a loud moan. Oh that wouldn't do. You wanted to hear him, it was not fair if you were the only one screaming his names. You rolled into him too, your special movement making him gasp. 

-Fuck...No one ever...No one ever did that to me...Stop...

-Does it feel good ?

-Yes, fuck, it feels too good (Y/N). 

-Oh...well then. 

And he was gone, jack hammering hard inside you, his pace faltering as his released was close. But he would not come first. That wasn’t gentlemanly. Leaving an arm by your head to support his weight and not crush you, the other one went to your core, and he flicked two fingers at your clit, rubbing furiously because he was too damn close...You came, his name on your lips, your body shaking uncontrollably, and he followed you soon after, pulling out just in time to not spill inside you, but all over your stomach. 

He collapsed on you, unable to hold himself, but it was alright, his weight on you was somewhat comforting. Felt safe under there. 

-Do you have a cloth or something ? 

-First drawer in the bathroom. 

-Be right back. 

And indeed, a few minutes later, he came back with a wet cloth to clean you up. He was already clean, and he raised you in his arms to lay on the couch, you on top of him. 

-Wow. 

-Wow indeed. 

-What the Hell was that (Y/N) ?

-You mean, the hip thing ? 

-Yeah, the hip thing.

-I don’t know, discovered a while ago that men liked it, kept doing it. 

-Well, I confirm. Men definitely like it. Damn. 

-You weren’t bad either. Actually, no one ever made me feel like that before. 

-Oh, and I’m not done honey, after all, we’ve got...all night right ?

Your thoughts went to Batman for a bit, hoping he was alright, and not in danger. Little did you know “Batman” was with you right now, and was about to take you multiple time, on your couch, on the sink in your bathroom, under the shower, and in your bed, in a wide array of different positions, until the morning rose and you fell asleep, exhausted. 

******************

You woke up to an empty bed, and for a moment, felt a panic rise in your chest. But only for a moment, as you saw a note on the pillow Bruce fell asleep on. It read : 

“Hey, I swear this isn’t me running out on you (Y/N), I had important affairs to attend to at Wayne Industry. Let’s have dinner tonight, 

Love you,

B.

PS : Last night was great. Wait, that’s insufficient. Last night was life changing. ”

Cute. So damn cute. And he said “love you”. Of course it was written hastily on a note but, still. And last night was...”life changing” ? Fucking awesome. And so you smiled...But your smile soon disappeared. Wh...What ? OH MY GOD ! How could you have been so oblivious ? So stupid ? 

You ran to a drawer in your desk, the one you put away Batman’s note he gave you almost a year ago...The same handwriting. The exact same. The way they were curling the letters, the point on their “i”...Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. But of course. 

They were the same person. Batman, was Bruce, Bruce, was Batman. You couldn’t help the fit of laughter that washed over you. Of course they were. It all made sense ! So that’s why the Dark Knight’s lips felt so familiar, you were right, your guts weren’t lying to you ! 

Instead of being mad at him not telling you the truth, you were relieved. So you weren’t in love with two men, since they were the same one. Pfiooo. Yes. It did make you a bit sad though, that he wasn't trusting you enough to tell you who he really was...You decided to go see him right now, to have a bit more explanations. 

***************

Alfred answered the door as you rung the bell. 

-Oh, Lady (Y/N), good to see you. Master Bruce wasn’t waiting for you until...

-Where is he Alfred ? I have to talk to him, it’s urgent. 

-I’m afraid he...

-I know he’s Batman. 

-Oh. Well that changes everything. Follow me if you please. 

******************

Under the Manor. That’s where the batcave was. When Bruce saw you, he found himself speechless, and extremely nervous. When you explained to him your discovery however, he seemed more relax. You weren’t mad, you understood, and you were actually glad that Batman and him was the same person, loving two men wasn’t really your thing. But you were a bit saddened at his lack of trust...He wasn’t lacking trust. He trusted you with his life. It was more...Being afraid of how you’d react, afraid you’d leave him, and that, he couldn’t bear. Silly man. Of course you weren’t going to leave him, you were fucking in love with him. 

-...I love you (Y/N). 

First time he told it to you vocally. He wrote it in notes before, but he never told you right in your face. It was great. The kiss he gave you that day, after you whispered in his ear “I love you too”, was full of promises to never keep anything from you anymore, to keep you by his side, always, to love you forever, as simple as that...And that’s when you saw the kid. A small boy, no more than 8 years old. 

Richard. That was his name. Dick for short, but for you, he was already “Dickie”. Bruce’s new ward. Bruce’s new son. And somewhere in your heart, something was telling you that he was someday going to be yours too...

[doctorwhonews]

Torchwood: Aliens Among Us - Part 1

Latest Review: Written By: James Goss, Juno Dawson, AK Benedict Directed By: Scott Handcock ​Lead Cast: John Barrowman (Captain Jack Harkness), Kai Owen (Rhys Williams), Tom Price (Sgt Andy Davidson), Paul Clayton (Mr Colchester), Alexandria Riley (Ng), Jonny Green (Tyler Steele), and Eve Myles (Gwen Cooper) Supporting Cast: Stephen Critchlow (The Mayor), Rachel Atkins (Ro-Jedda), Ruth Lloyd (Vorsun), Sophie Colquhoun (Madrigal), Rhian Marston-Jones (Quenel), Lu Corfield (Brongwyn), Rhys Whomsley (Osian), Sharon Morgan (Mary Cooper), David Sibley (Vincent Parry), Sam Béart (Catrin Parry), Anthony Boyle (Hotel Manager), Sam Jones (Toobert Jailert), Wilf Scolding (Personal Trainer) ​Released by Big Finish Productions - August 2017 In receiving the licensed green light to revive Doctor Who’s first full-fledged TV spin-off show, Torchwood, as an ongoing series of audio dramas in May 2015, Big Finish set themselves arguably their most daunting challenge since embarking upon a mission to do likewise for Who back in 1999. Like its mother show in the 1970s, the four season-strong, adult-geared BBC sci-fi drama had reached the height of its televisual powers by 2009, producing an award-winning miniseries in Children of Earth which suggested its writers had finally perfected their efforts to blend universe expansion with compelling, mature storylines capable of attracting newcomers alongside ever-devoted followers of the Doctor. Just as the arrival of iconic figures like Colin Baker, Sylvester McCoy and John Nathan-Turner bred behind-the-scenes troubles which ultimately sealed Who’s 19-year hiatus, however, so too did Torchwood’s golden age of on-screen success reach a swift, turbulent crescendo just moments after its apex. The Starz-produced fourth season Miracle Day lacked the narrative momentum, multi-faceted supporting characters or overall British charm which had reaped Children of Earth such universal acclaim two years beforehand, once again prompting a previously beloved sci-fi saga to enter an indefinite purgatorial state, particularly as its showrunner Russell T Davies faced heartbreaking personal struggles not long after the run’s Summer 2011 broadcast. But between their sensational opening trio of monthly runs featuring beloved characters like Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, Ianto Jones and of course the indomitable Captain Jack Harkness (if you’ve yet to try The Conspiracy, Uncanny Valley, Zone 10, Broken or Corpse Day, then head to Big Finish’s website when you’re done here and remedy that error), the tremendous The Torchwood Archive serving as both a fitting series coda and 10th anniversary special, and box-sets like Before the Fall offering profound insights into the titular secret agency’s mysterious past, Big Finish have more than confirmed their status as the brand’s perfect gatekeepers for the foreseeable future. Next up on their agenda, then? Continuing the story where Miracle Day left off, albeit making a few welcome course corrections en route to ensure that Season Five doesn’t trigger another near-death experience for Torchwood. Even with the support of the mighty Russell behind them, can the studio pull off such a Herculean feat, no longer simply hopping between eras of the show for standalone romps but instead conveying a whole new arc over the course of 12 episodes and three box-sets? Let’s begin the quest to find out with Aliens Among Us – Part 1, evaluating each of the four hour-long instalments in detail before ascertaining whether James Goss and company should ever have bothered embarking upon this audacious campaign… Changes Everything: ��Torchwood is dead.” There’s an unmistakable sense of irony about wright James Goss’ decision to invert the title of Torchwood’s pilot episode in naming Season Five’s opener. While the Cardiff of “Changes Everything” has undergone no shortage of transformations, between mass immigration, mass homelessness and mass alien infiltration, while Jack and Gwen were fighting to end the Miracle in the US of A, this compelling first chapter largely works to re-establish much of the show’s pre-Miracle Day status quo, from the shattered but still intact Hub to the team’s iconic SUV to Jack and Gwen back in business at Torchwood Three’s helm. Much of the real change, then, comes with Goss’ introduction of two deliciously morally and psychologically complex new – potential in one case – recruits to the team this time around. Enter the irritable but courageous civil servant Mr. Colchester and the intrepid but concerningly ruthless ex-paparazzi Tyler Steele, the former of whom comes off as initially closed-minded yet has plenty more to him than meets the eye and the latter - brought brilliantly to life as an unashamedly slimy rogue by Jonny Green - bound to rile most listeners with his self-serving rationale as much as he does the rest of the team. For reasons that will become obvious by the end of the hour, Russell’s influence upon the characterisation of these two new players is as clear as daylight, lending them the same dramatically layered but equally realistic personalities that one would expect of any of the Doctor’s 2005-2009 companions or indeed any employee at Torchwood until the Miracle. It’s thanks to this pair of ever-evolving characters largely taking centre-stage – especially in Tyler’s case – here that a somewhat necessarily by-the-books set-up storyline revealing the existence of an unseen alien community pulling the strings in Cardiff remains thoroughly engaging to sit through, though that’s not to say the plot doesn’t pack any dramatic heft in its own right. Much as we’ve encountered plenty such shady organisations such as those behind Season Four’s Miracle or indeed the Committee at the heart of Big Finish’s Torchwood monthly range to date, that the latest foes to emerge from the Rift provoke racist sentiments and terror attacks across Wales’ capital city gives “Changes” a disturbingly relevant edge, the depiction of bombings taking countless lives sure to unsettle anyone following today’s headlines but all the more relevant a subject matter for the show to tackle. As with most season premieres aiming to kick-start a season-spanning arc, the extra narrative legwork “Changes” must perform ultimately robs the opening outing of the chance to become a stellar standalone outing, but even so, by injecting the show with a fresh, volatile new team dynamic at Torchwood Three and harrowing poignancy via its topical real-world ties, Goss sets Aliens Among Us off on a promising trajectory indeed. Aliens & Sex & Chips & Gravy: “Right then, let’s go to a hen night.” Has any episode title ever served to summarised the core tenants of Torchwood as a work of mature yet oft-hilarious drama than the epithet Goss attributes to Season Five’s sophomore outing? Probably not, but thankfully the man responsible for helming the brand at Big Finish doesn’t get complacent off the back of this unparalleled achievement, instead finding time to devise a largely isolated storyline which dedicates almost an hour’s worth of time to developing bothEve Myles’ Gwen and Paul Clayton’s Colchester, not to mention exploring the fascinating interplay between these two world-wearied soldiers as they march into one of their most unlikely – not to mention hugely comedic – missions yet. Laden with outrageous set-pieces – from absurd hostage situations to drunken car chases – and unsubtle but warranted politico-religious commentary, Goss’ script follows these veteran crime-fighters in their efforts to determine how young Madrigal’s upcoming wedding nuptials are connected to the still-mysterious powers manipulating Cardiff for their own ends, only for their investigation to result in the increasingly inebriated Maddie causing them no shortage of explosive grief throughout the night. One does admittedly get the sense as “Aliens & Sex & Chips & Gravy” progresses that Goss thought this delightfully disbelief-uprooting premise was entertaining enough to fuel an entire hour of audio drama, since the second act of proceedings feels rather padded, throwing in convoluted further plot developments and additional characters who don’t add a great deal to proceedings beyond further exposition surrounding the nature of Madrigal’s betrothal. All the same, with Myles and Clayton on top form as they explore how their respective characters deal with leading lives of near-total dishonesty when balancing work with family ties, with Sophie Colquhoun’s Madrigal serving up a veritable array of painfully chuckle-worthy one-liners with each successive pint consumed, and with Goss even finding time to resolve loose plot threads from Titan Comics’ Torchwood strip by revealing the fate of the Ice Maiden’s crew, “Gravy” achieves more than enough in its running time – and builds more than enough intrigue for what’s to come – to stave off any occasional sense of plot tedium. Most importantly of all, that Episode 2 gave yours truly the joy of writing out its pitch-perfect title in full for this review is reason enough for its existence. Orr: “Who knew there was an alien black market right in the middle of Cardiff city centre?” Clearly not content with allowing Goss to expand Torchwood’s core roster with Colchester and Tyler, Juno Dawson adds another player into the mix with Orr, a third RTD-endorsed recruit whose alien heritage affords her some, well, alluring abilities that play glorious havoc with each member of the team here. “Orr” once again marks a near-complete tonal departure from its immediate predecessor, returning to explore the haunting implications of extremist fanatics for a Cardiff already at economic war with itself, while also throwing in aspects of romance and series-changing tragedy for good measure along the way. As one might well imagine, handling such a delicate balancing act – and having to carry the burden of progressing Aliens Among Us’ overall arc in a far more substantial manner than “Gravy” with the full-scale arrival of the season’s core antagonist – would prove a challenging at best prospect for even the most accomplished of scribes. Sure enough, what with tackling weighty concepts like housing shortages, illegal commercial transactions hidden in plain sight and shapeshifts forced to cater for their onlookers’ sexual fantasies, Dawson can’t quite avoid imbuing “Orr” with a lingering sense of tonal discontinuity at times, struggling to decide whether to focus on the hearty laughs Orr’s powers inspire, the aforementioned topicality of her plot or indeed setting up a twist set to inextricably alter Aliens Among Us’ trajectory for the next nine episodes. Thank goodness, then, that the merits of those individual plot and character threads are strong enough to leave the listener suitably chortled, emotionally wrought and ultimately captivated to discover what lies around the corner as soon as the show’s iconic end credits sting kicks in. As shown by her sublime Torchwood one-off outing The Dollhouse back in April, when left to her own devices Dawson’s got more than enough comedic and dramatic chops to pull off a standalone storyline for the range, but even if “Orr” can’t quite match that entertaining Charlie’s Angels-riffing adventure’s lofty heights, as a penultimate instalment for Part 1 it’s got more than enough to keep fans and newcomers alike engaged. Superiority Complex: “All life is equal – animal, mechanical and everything in-between.” Those wanting Part 1’s concluding instalment to serve as a gripping mid-season finale which leaves one desperate to hear the next four episodes might need to restrain those expectations somewhat. Much as “Superiority Complex” affords the whole team plenty to do as they infiltrate a prospering alien hotel to determine the source of recent on-site murders, with John Barrowman clearly relishing Jack’s newfound role as a typically flirtatious barman and Orr’s abilities granting her unprecedented access to employees’ psyches, it’s certainly not concerned with resolving or substantially progressing many plot threads established so far, barring a last-minute cliffhanger which promises dire straits for Torchwood Three come October’s Part 2. With that disclaimer out of the way, though, listeners can focus on simply enjoying the sheer lunacy of the team’s present situation, one member hiding a particularly juicy secret as she spars wits with disgruntled guests and Orr’s encounters with the hotel’s true management proving both ridiculous and tangible given the current exponential growth of artificial intelligence. Between uniting Jack with a British monarch in The Victorian Age and transforming Cardiff into a disease-ridden warzone in Outbreak, AK Benedict  is no stranger to devising logic-eschewing premises anyway, but “Complex” tests the extent to which your disbelief can be suspended like never before, an experiment which if nothing else ensures an unpredictable listening experience presumably akin to watching an episode of the original TV series while under the influence of narcotic substances. Better yet, come Episode 4’s credits we’re left with the unmistakable, gratifying sense of a truly reinvigorated Torchwood, one packing a familiar status quo but with revitalising new elements in the form of the team’s latest recruits, and the fresh, unstable dynamic between protagonists old and new ensuring that both the standalone and arc-orientated instalments compel. If Goss and company could work to justify Kai Owen and Tom Price’s top billings as Rhys and Andy – neither of whom get much in the way of dramatic meat until “Superiority” – next time around, and develop the elusive Ro-Jedda as a multi-dimensional antagonist for Jack et al to battle, then Part 2 could take the show to Children of Earth-rivalling heights once more, but for now, the show’s well and truly back on form, and long may it reign as such at Big Finish. http://reviews.doctorwhonews.net/2017/08/torchwood_aliens_among_us_part_1.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[lierrame]

Arrest me Officer 💕

leurauxe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Perhaps getting mugged at two in the morning isn’t such a bad idea’ Oikawa thinks as he eyes the world’s hottest policeman settled in the seat across from him.

In which Oikawa is a news reporter head over heels for a commanding police officer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

basics

general audiences

english

120k

18/19 (incompleted multichapter)

content/trigger warnings

no archive warnings apply

weapons, blood, mugging, hostage situation, assault

references to sexual activity and a raunchy kissing scene, but nothing explicit

relationships

iwaoi (m) (iwaizumi hajime/oikawa tooru)

bokuaka (m) (bokuto koutarou/akaashi keiji)

kuroken (m) (kuroo tetsurou/kozume kenma)

kagehina (b) (kageyama tobio/hinata shouyou)

daisuga (b) (sawamura daichi/sugawara koushi)

levyaku (b) (haiba lev/yaku morisuke)

tsukkiyama (b) (tsukishima kei/yamaguchi tadashi) (very, very, minor)

opinion

hoo boy. this fic is a really mixed bag for me. there are some parts i absolutely love, and some parts that i’m honestly not too fond of, which balance each other out i think. overall, i recommend it.

the fic is actually quite heavy, which is to be expected from a police-oriented fic, but regardless- there’s a heavy amount of angst and not too much fluff. at the same time, however, the characters are all so funny and the humour really helps the fic overall.

as for the plot, it’s what has me the most mixed of all about this fic. this fic felt like it was trying to focus on too many characters at once, and as a result, the plot became kind of confusing and lead astray. while i was reading it, i felt like i was hopping between a couple of fics while trying to follow the plot of them all. also, perhaps it’s just because i’m not a fan of the heavier topics, but this fic felt weird to me with the whole hostage situation.

the characterisations were weird, to say the least. iwaizumi’s character changed super suddenly at the beginning, oikawa’s character jumped from being very in-character to very out-of-character quite quickly. however, i thought that as far as everyone else went- especially bokuto and kuroo- the characterisations were spot on.

overall, i’m pretty mixed about the fic and it’s plot, but i honestly think that even if you’re not into this kind of fic, it’s worth reading just for all of the giggles that bokuto and kuroo’s antics got out of me.

💕 recommend 💕

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

How a college meme group regained control after a hacker took it hostage

It's Troll Week on Mashable. Join us as we explore the good, the bad, and the ugly of internet trolling.

Facebook meme groups are the lifeblood of modern college culture. For one school, a power struggle between a hacker and shitposters became a bonding experience for a whole student body. 

If there's anything that this generation of young people can do without fail, it's shitposting. In an surprisingly nuanced entry on Urban Dictionary, a user defines shitpost as "any content on the internet whose humor derives from its surreal nature and/or its lack of clear context." Differing from memes in that a meme's humor "comes from its repeatability," a shitpost's humor stems from its tendency to ridicule a situation by making something out of nothing. 

The art of shitposting is best exemplified in this bizarre saga of an Iraqi hacker bent on obtaining passports, a college meme group held hostage for incomprehensible demands, and the girl whose tenacity for trolling reclaimed it.

SEE ALSO: The only good thing left on Facebook is private meme groups

What does Addman want anyway?

Berklee College of Music in Boston is a small school whose social culture, like many smaller academic institutions, is strengthened by memes. Its seminal Facebook group, Overheard at Berklee, functioned as a town hall for students to poke fun at the administration, promote their work, and share the most ridiculous snippets of conversation they overheard on campus. 

Brendan Cornish, a current Berklee student who provided the screenshots of the group's shenanigans, calls Overheard a "huge part" of the school's culture.

"It lets off-campus students like me feel like a part of the community, and it helps everyone develop a sense of Berklee identity," he said over Facebook Messenger. "It's fun to have a shared sense of humor in what feels like an in-group."  

But in March 2017, that all changed when one of the admins' Facebook accounts was hacked. 

Image: screenshot courtesy of Brendan cornish 

Under the compromised account, the hacker was able to remove all of Overheard's admin and moderation team, and establish himself as the sole controller of the group. He quickly changed the group's name to "The Iraq virus was here" in Arabic, according to Google Translate.

"Having difficulty telling if this was a move by the White House to make us live in fear or not," one member posted in the group. "Sad reacts," another member posted. 

"People were confused because it's mostly a meme page," Berklee alum and active Overheard member Alejandro told me over a video chat. He asked to only be referred to by his first name. "And naturally most of the responses were just people A: Being confused, B: Making memes about it, which became considerably easier with the first thing that Addman said." 

In his first public statement in his new digital domain, he announced, "I.m hacker. And. Hacked the addman."

Image: screenshot courtesy of brendan cornish

From then on, Overheard members referred to him as  "Addman" or in some cases, "The Addman."

"Next thing you know, it's just shitposts. Everywhere," Alejandro said. "The entire group is flooded with memes. Flooded with memes about this mysterious hacker, flooded with people sending screenshots of them messaging him, and the hacker occasionally responding."

As people tried to figure out what the fuck was going on in their group, they inundated Overheard with offers for free grams of weed, jokes about alerting WikiLeaks, and attempts at sending Addman mixtapes. 

Then he revealed what he hacked the group for: "Photo passport." In return for "passport English," he promised to "give you drub." 

Image: screenshot courtesy of brendan cornish

Image: Screenshot courtesy of brendan cornish

That, of course, sparked a fresh wave of shitposts about what he meant by "drub." Some theorized that Addman had drastically misspelled "group," while others joked that he was offering drugs. 

Students began coming up with conspiracy theories about Addman; some believed that it was an elaborate hoax by another Berklee student who was ambitiously trying to pull off the ultimate shitpost. 

Sure that Addman was just another Berklee kid, Alejandro messaged the hacker.

"I thought it was fucking hilarious, I added the guy, sent him messages on Facebook," Alejandro said. "But I totally thought this was a fucking joke, and sent stuff to the guy. And then I went through the guy's profile and it had been there for a while. It was a real Iraqi guy."

Image: screenshot courtesy of alejandro

Image: screenshot courtesy of alejandro

Image: screenshot courtesy of alejandro

Image: screenshot courtesy of alejandro

How one girl tried to save it 

Amid the chaos, Berklee student Emma — who we'll refer to only by her first name  — was concerned. 

"I thought all of the memes that came out of it were funny," she said over Facebook Messenger. "But when he started deleting the other admins and changed the name I got a little worried. Everyone was just making light of this ridiculous situation." 

She decided to take matters into her own hands, and messaged him: "Are you into kinky shit?"

"I figured nobody was going directly to the source of the memeage and I wanted to try my best to get the group back," Emma said. 

Addman replied with his best attempt at sexting, messaging Emma gems like "Let's get your body up," and "Send me your picture in the bathroom to raise my appetite." 

She replied with a photo of her foot haphazardly pointed in front of her shower. As Cornish writes in his Imgur album chronicling the wild chain of events, "it is still unclear if Addman's appetites were raised." 

Image: screenshot courtesy of brendan cornish

"I thought the whole thing was such a joke," Emma said. "It was probably 1 a.m. and I was laying in bed being a troll, lol." 

Addman, however, was determined to get his passport. His demands were unclear; at one point, he posted, "Hi I want Facebook account creation date2005 ... I will give you the group." 

His grasp on the English language also seemed to improve with every post. An hour after demanding a Facebook account from 2005, he posted, "Hello, I want personalized photo IDs and passports in exchange for that I will return to you to download personal IDs or passports in the comments." 

Who wouldn't risk some lighthearted identity fraud for adminship to a Facebook meme group? 

Undeterred by the threat of never getting Overheard back, Berklee students responded with an onslaught of shitposts. Running with the classic trope of ripping off young creatives, one member even offered to pay Addman in exposure.

Image: screenshot courtesy of brendan cornish

Image: screenshot courtesy of brendan cornish

Image: screenshot courtesy of brendan cornish

Image: SCREENSHOT COURTESY OF BRENDAN CORNISH

"It's almost surreal," Alejandro said, still astonished that it all happened.

This whole situation is like a testament to shitposting itself. When presented with absurdism, why not respond with absurdism? If anything, the Overheard reaction to being hacked exemplifies the Millennial and Gen Z love for nihilistic humor — the world may be falling apart, but at least we can make jokes! 

"This is just more new content," Alejandro agreed. "And new content lets you explore old memes and ideas that you couldn't before, so people are gonna jump on that immediately. It affected all of us because everyone's in that group, and it was so ripe for the picking." 

"You saw all the regular Berklee joke subjects brought up, but adapted to the situation," Cornish concurred. "No one missed a beat."

Addman shuts it down

But Addman wasn't as entertained. He archived the group eight days after triumphantly gaining control, perhaps after being the target of constant trolling. Berklee kids made another Overheard group, but according to Emma, it "wasn't the same." 

Image: shitpost courtesy of brendan cornish

"There were thousands of members in the in the original group," she said. "Alumni, current students, and even some staff. We didn't want to lose that as a community." 

Although many former members resigned themselves to the new Overheard group, Emma was determined to regain control. While filling in friends who were out of the loop it hit her: They had to "give one last shot of getting the old group back." She redoubled on her efforts to message Addman, attempting to harangue him into making her an admin. 

"He kept pushing for me to take off my clothes and send him pictures, but I wasn't having it so kept being like, 'Maybe after you do ME a favor and make me an admin with you," she said. 

One of the friends who resolved to win back the group with her made a collage of Addman's best attempts at sexting. Gems include, "I have brought my head into my confusion," and "I am now a young man in your blades." 

Image: connor mccoy/courtesy of emma

Emma played along — when he messaged her, "I want your body," she replied with: "I need your body, as long as you got me, you don't need nobody." 

Berklee vs. Berkeley 

It seemed like Addman, like many people, confused Berklee for the larger, more well-known University of California, Berkeley. That mix up in itself is a meme within the Berklee community — at the beginning of every summer, incoming Berklee freshmen try to join the UC Berkeley Facebook group, Emma explained. 

Knowing that Addman was clueless about what school he was hacking made it infinitely more funny. In the end, it wasn't the sexting or the shower foot photo that got Addman to relinquish. Instead, Emma promised to add him to an actual UC Berkeley Facebook group.

"Music school breeds some trolls," she said.

In September 2017, months after declaring Overheard Berklee his, Addman made Emma an admin. She unarchived the group, restoring balance to the school's culture. 

"Thanks four addind my love Emma," Addman posted in UC Berkeley's Class of 2019 group after she added him, passing him off to another college Facebook group to deal with. 

Although Addman promptly unfriended everyone from Berklee and left Overheard, his reputation and impact on the school's lore lives on. 

"You could almost do a BC and AD split with before Addman and after," Cornish reflected. "The whole thing kept me up until 4 a.m. that night, and whether this is pathetic or not, was one of my most fun Berklee memories." 

Who was Addman anyway?

There's something beautiful about how cemented college social interactions are in meme culture; no matter how cliquey or divisive a class may be, an opportunity to make memes will bring them together in a way that administration-sponsored orientation events can't. On a larger scale, it hints at just how sardonic this generation is. Who can resist a good shitpost, even in times of crisis? 

More than a year after the incident, Overheard at Berklee and its spinoff group have been untouched by foreign hackers in search of passports. But one question still lingers: Who was trolling who? Was Addman the real puppet master in all of this, playing the Berklee kids like marionettes? 

"I don't know how in on the joke he was," Alejandro wondered about Addman. "I don't know if he was serious, or if he was doing this just to fuck with some dumb college students? I don't know if he was just trying to have a laugh." 

Addman appears to be living his best life as well — in May, he changed his profile picture to a saturated selfie of him wearing a snazzy maroon vest. But he hasn't stopped in quest for passports. When I messaged him for a comment on this story, he responded in typical Addman fashion. 

"Do you want to group," he asked. "I want to get a passport and return you svez group." 

WATCH: Researchers have found the oldest intact shipwreck in the Black Sea — Genius Moments

[yumehologram-blog]

COMMUNITY

Community is a science fiction short story I wrote for my satire class final.

          The humble town of Community was lively during the preparations for the biggest festival of the year- the long awaited We Love Our One and Only Mayor Day. The citizens happily took their time readying the town for the event, cleaning the streets, hanging up banners of Mayor, and prettying it all up for the grand day.

          Community, though, was not prepared to accommodate for one particular uninvited guest.

          It came stumbling in through the gate onto Main Street. Whatever it was, it seemed to hold itself up just like a human being, but something was very much off about it- it seemed to use only a pair of legs to move. It trailed a strange red substance behind them. This substance dripped from one of their arms, of which it also possessed incomplete pair:  two skinny arms on the sides of its body. It managed to trudge only a minor ways through Main Street before it fell over and seemed to have passed out. There were many who were quick to stop their meandering mid-day conversation and festival preparations to gasp in horror or leer on in a speechless silence.

          It was still unconscious when it was brought in to Doc’s office. If anyone could find out just what this thing that came crawling into town was, it would be Doc. The people in Community were given their names for a reason- and Doc just so happened to be the one who had a good head and surgically precise hands to take on the job of being the town’s resident veterinarian.

          The Thing, as Doc affectionately named it, seemed so out of place- it had the features just like that of a human being, albeit in a much more primitive state. It had an even number of appendages: two arms and two legs. Doc noted this odd symmetry of the body, and would later refer to it as a defect. Even upon closer inspection, it was almost impossible to ascertain its age and gender. In Doc’s words: “It’s hard to tell. Not only is it lacking in body hair, it seems to have one, singular reproductive organ.”

          The town was shaken to the core. They had never seen anyone- anything like it. Pictures of the Thing lying unconscious were released onto the Community Weekly later that week, making the headlines, which proclaimed “Unknown Animal Stumbles into Town!” Mail from across town flooded in to the paper’s offices regarding the Thing:

          “How could you put such ghastly images on the front of the paper? My children are just horrified!”

          “Maybe it’s a crash landed alien. Don’t rule out the possibility.”

          “Will these animals fall under our monthly hunting permits? Would they even be okay to eat?”

          The Thing was much too large for any animal cage that Doc had on hand, so it was brought to the town’s jail to be kept in a cell. It was the first time in many years where the jail had seen any use. Community, after all, was a peaceful safe haven for all human beings.

Mayor had decided to step in on the situation, considering the waves it was making around Community. He enlisted Eyes to provide their observations on the Thing. Eyes not only managed the archives of Community, but also collected books from the old world. Mayor believed that if there would be someone to determine just what the Thing was, it would be Eyes. After all, Eyes was all brains and utterly perceptive- a gift to make up for the fact that they were born with a tiny mouth with no tongue. Without that gift, they would be sent to the Caves.

          It wasn’t long after Eyes started observing the Thing when it woke up. Eyes wrote of the occasion in an address to Mayor: “It started awake and seemed to be in a disoriented state. It writhed around, looking for water, which was provided for it in the cell in a bowl. It eventually came to and sat up, turning to look at me. In a near instant, it backed up into the corner of the cell and it screamed so very, very loudly. It was like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It was just wailing, bashing at the cell walls with its two fists which only served to open the wounds on its arms again. All it did was shriek and sob and hit the cell walls until it couldn’t anymore, and I had to run out just in case my ears blew out from the noise- you know how sensitive my hearing is. I came back in there and it laid there in a puddle of… I think it was its blood and some other fluid? The color was red with tinges of yellow mixed in. I made one pertinent observation, however, and that is the fact that, when it was having its fit, it was doing so in our language. I would recommend against putting it down for that sole reason- perhaps we can get some sort of tangible information out of it, as to what it is, where it came from, how it found us, but I’m just grasping at straws.”

          Mayor received Eyes’ observations and sent Doc to the cell. They had to patch the Thing up and put it under strong sedatives, so that it wouldn’t have a fit again.

          Many in Community were curious about the Thing, but entrance into the jail was barred to all but a select number of people in the town. This sudden disruption in the quaint everyday life of town was not to be taken lightly, let alone during the preparations for We Love Our One and Only Mayor Day. Mayor, who was very disgruntled, took it upon himself to speak to it.

          “Are you able to speak?” Doc started, in a pleasant tone, handing water in a bowl through the bottom of the cell bars. “We’re not here to hurt you. We just have a few questions to ask you.”

          “Where- Where am I…? Why do you…” The Thing rose from the floor and took one good look at Doc. It winced and cradled up into a ball, huddling its head into its knees. It didn’t have the energy to scream or to throw themselves around the cell again.

          “I am going to have to ask you to speak, lest there be consequences,” said Mayor, talking down upon the Thing, locked in fetal position. Mayor dragged himself in front of the cell, the jail room being only just big enough to fit him. His shadow completely loomed over the Thing.

          The Thing looked up at the mass and all they could do was whimper in utter fear, shivering in their position. “I’m dreaming… I’m dreaming…”

          “Now,” said Doc, “You could go a bit easier on it.”

          Mayor grumbled and dragged himself back away from the cell handles. It was then that Eyes scuttled as fast as their legs could take them into the jail room. They were blinking rapidly, holding an old world book.

          Doc and Mayor scoffed at it, but Eyes let out a sort of muffled sound that was audible from their throat, frantically pointing to the picture on the cover with four of their hands for effect. It was a children’s picture book depicting a bipedal animal, with two legs, two arms, that looked just like the Thing. I Am Human, the book was titled.

          The time for We Love Our One and Only Mayor Day had arrived. Main Street was bustling with activity. Families gathered to share in the festival splendor. Stalls lined the streets selling local favorites, like salted potatoes and forest mushrooms. If you were really in the mood for a delicacy, grilled Two-Faced Riverfish were readily available for four food stamps a pop.

          The main event for many, though, was the parade. There was a special float planned at the last second, included at Mayor’s request.

          As the marching band music started to blare, Mayor bellowed atop of the float behind the band. It was just large enough to fit his portly, well-endowed person atop of it.

          “My people! Believe it or not, we, the town of Community, have come to possess another relic of the old world. It’s not a food processor, no, we have plenty! Nor is it one of the exploding devices that doomed the old world to begin with, nay! It’s a living relic- gaze on in amazement, at a being from a time long past! A human being of the yesteryear!”

          The new float rolled in, and atop of it, in a decorated cage, stood the Thing. They were stark naked. They were in a slump, their near limp body held up with their arms shackled and splayed outwards like a letter T against the cage bars.

          The citizens of Community gawked at the primitive flesh. How little arms it had! How little legs it had! How little eyes it had! How little hair it had! How small its head was! How pitiful and tiny it was! Laughter, cheers, and howls echoed throughout the town, all directed at the Thing- now affectionately called an Ugly in town tradition. Those deemed Ugly were the ones sentenced to the Caves, where none were permitted to return.

          This parade would mark a time for change in Community- this Ugly had set the absolute bar. There was no way any human being could be as utterly repugnant as this one.

          Just as the parade was coming to a close, the marching band music fell into dissonance and scattered as a large, imposing vehicle dressed in all black screeched through the town gates and onto Main Street. The vehicle crashed into Mayor’s float, knocking him down onto the asphalt. What looked like people came flooding out of the back, but something was very much off- they had two arms and two legs. They were covered in a one piece white suit that hid their faces, and they held sticks that glowed an intimidating crimson red. The citizens were aghast as the white suits stormed their way onto Main Street, holding the town hostage. Mayor, nothing but a huge mass on the ground, helplessly roared out Stop! Stop! Stop! but to no avail. He was detained by a group of the suits, aiming their sticks at him.

          Finally, one of the white suits spoke up. They bore a loudspeaker which emitted a gruff, harsh voice: “We are human, and we are here to clean the tainted planet Earth. This community and its mutant defects are a blight upon the world, and must disappear.”

          The town was in absolute shambles. Cries and shouts began to echo out. Community was in chaos. They didn’t fight back, they couldn’t- they had no means of doing so and no reason to prepare for an event like this.

          The white suits took to the cage, climbing upon it without a word. They opened it and freed the Ugly, dropping them down onto the street. One of them pulled out a device that let out short beeps and hums.

          “Do you know how long I was waiting? How many distress calls I sent behind these defects’ backs?! How much of the wasteland I waded through to find this shithole?”

          Beep, beep, beep. The intensity of the device heightened as the device was brought closer to the Ugly.

          “Get me away from these freaks, kill them! Kill these monsters, get me away, kill them, get me away-”

          The beep and hum device was put away. Clinically, one of them spoke: “You have been exposed too long.”

          “Exposed, exposed, exposed,” a group of them repeated.

          The white suit took the stick from their holster and, aiming it at the Ugly, pulled a lever.

          An impossible flash of bright light shone, only to dissipate in the blink of an eye. All that was left of them was a set of ashes on the ground.