#h gun labs

[natalievoncatte]

Lena didn’t have time for traffic. She looked up from her phone and glared at the back of her driver’s head.

“Frank, why is it taking so long?”

“I’m not Frank, Ma’am. He called out this morning.”

Lena sighed. “And your name?”

“Vincent, ma’am.”

“Vincent, why is this taking so long?”

He signed. “Traffic, ma’am. Sounds like there’s a few blocks downtown closed. Supergirl is fighting some monster or alien or something.”

Lena stopped herself from smiling softly. “Ah, well then. Anyway, might as well see if you can find us a way around. I just don’t like to stand still.”

The driver nodded.

“What do you think about Supergirl, ma’am?”

Lena sighed. “Forgive me, Vincent, but I do have some work to concentrate on, here. I’m not usually one for chitchat. I hope you don’t mind.”

She sank back into her seat and flicked to the next email. There were a lot of fires to put out. Upcoming product launches, grant applications, university partnerships, charity events, plus her own work. She was becoming so strained lately that she was seriously considering stepping down from the direct CEO role so she could spend more time in the lab, where her real passion was.

Sometimes she almost sympathized with Lex; the life of a CEO could easily drive someone insane. Lena would rather spend her days in a labcoat or doing charity work than listening to another entitled silver spoon-

“You’re going the wrong way,” Lena said, sharply.

“I’m finding a way around,” said the driver. “You know, you never answered my question, before. What do you think of Supergirl?”

Lena stuffed her phone in her pocket and thrust her hand in her jacket, freeing the concealed revolver she carried in a shoulder holster under her left arm. The partition was already going up, sealing her in.

“What are you doing?”

“Answer my question,” the driver said, through a speaker.

Lena swallowed hard. “I think she’s a hero but I don’t fully trust her. I work with her when I feel it will help people. That’s all.”

“That’s not what your mother thinks.”

“Isn’t it?” said Lena. “What does she think?”

“Are you fucking her?”

Lena barked out a laugh. “Are you serious? That’s her question?”

“Are you fucking her like you debased yourself with that little tart in boarding school?”

There was silent beat.

“She told me to say that. She made me practice saying ‘tart’.”

He sounded almost bored.

“Fuck you,” Lena snapped. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it.”

“Nothing personal,” said the driver.

Lena sighed, almost annoyed at the hiss as a thin, chemical smelling gas hissed into the car, rising around her. She forced herself to stay calm, stoic, even her pulse raced.

“I’m not afraid of you, or her,” said Lena.

She coughed twice as the world irises shut around her, dragging her down into a cold, dreamless sleep.

When she snapped awake, she was alone. The partition was open, but the gun was gone from her holster. She felt around for it, then decided to clamber into the front seat, rolling over the seats facing her. The driver was gone, of course. Heavy chains were padlocked around the car, pinning the front doors shut.

There was a tape recorder sitting on the front seat. Lena ignored it as she looked around. The car was surrounded by metal walls, and a creep sense of dread rose up Lena’s spine. She fought the panic down, dropping into the driver’s seat.

Placing the tape deck on the dash, she pushed the okay button.

“Hello, Lena,” Lilian said, in her smooth, posh tones. Lena could hear that smarmy smirk forming around her words.

“You’re probably expecting an ultimatum or an offer. There will be none. I’m through trying to bring my husband’s wayward bastard back into the fold. When you betrayed Lex again, you burned your last chance. It’s time to take out the trash, Lena. I wish I could have throttled you in the cradle, but I didn’t know about you and your mother until it was too late. It’s time to correct that. It’s too bad we won’t be there to watch.”

Watch what?

Lena sat and waited. Whoever was sent to murder her had no sense of dramatic timing. She began rifling through the car, trying to take stock of what she had, what she could use to effect an escape. Breaking the-

A sharp shriek of metal cut through her thoughts. The side walls inched forward with a screech of metal, and Lena froze, terror piercing through her like an icy spike.

Oh.

Oh God.

The walls moved slightly more, and the rear view mirrors on both sides of the car exploded. The mechanism pushing the walls strained and groaned, and that was the only mercy she had.

She was in a car crusher. In the car.

The armored structure of her town car was too heavy for the machine to simply crush, but she had minutes at most. Metal groaned in protest, shrieking around her, and the glass quivered in the doors.

Oh God. Oh God.

She wasn’t going to panic. She wasn’t going to panic. She ripped open every single compartment and cubby she could find, but found only monogrammed glassware and a bottle of champagne. There was nothing.

A random, forgotten Lexosuit would be really useful right about now.

With a sudden shriek, the car began to collapse. The bulletproof glass buckled and shattered, pelting the front seat as she rolled into the back, and the doors buckled in, tearing loose from their hinges as the floor and roof began to fold.

A sudden, ringing, frankly stupid thought came into her head, but it was her best play.

Lena Luthor filled her lungs. She took in the biggest, deepest breath of her life, a breath worthy of a championship deep diver, and screamed at the top of her lungs, until it hurt.

“SUPERGIRL!”

She had to scramble into the back seat as the engine began pushing through the dashboard, ripping apart plastic and leather, splintering buried wood. Lena ducked as the roof crumpled and dove in, like the roof of a dragon’s mouth crushing down to pulp her. She closed her eyes and curled in on herself, hoping it would at least be over fast.

A single ringing thought bit through the fear.

Oh God. Kara’s waiting for me at the restaurant.

Around her metal shrieked, and she heard the vast clang of rending machinery. The inexorable crushing stopped, the bucking limousine going still. Lena opened her eyes, peering through her fingers like a terrified child, and watched in awe as one of the crushed plates tore loose from its moorings and went flying off into the afternoon air.

Hands, strangely delicate, punched through armor plating as if it were cobwebs and ripped the broken shell of Lena’s limo apart, spreading it in every direction.

Lena had never seen Supergirl so panicked. Her eyes were too wide with abject terror, and she seized Lena in her arms, winding her cape around her, and rocketed loose from the car.

Lena’s words were lost to the wind. Supergirl was blasting into the air, flying incredibly fast- too fast. Helpless, she clung to the hero for dear life, feeling woozy as the blood drained from her skull.

She thought, oh, come on, as she passed out again.

When her eyes drifted open, Lena was lying on the ground. Groaning, she sat up slowly, feeling every movement, and realized she’d been lying on a spread red blanket with her suit jacket piled up under her head for a pillow, and she was in the woods. The sun had yielded to the sky, and someone had started a roaring fire a few feet away.

Grateful for the warmth, Lena edged closer. As she did, she realized that she was sitting not on a blanket but on Supergirl’s cape.

Blinking, she looked around.

Supergirl had her back to a tree, curled up on herself with her head hanging between her knees, arms wrapped around to cover her face, and she was sobbing quietly. Lena stared, open-mouthed.

“Supergirl?” she breathed.

Supergirl didn’t respond. Lena rose to her feet, wobbling, and discarded her heels before walking across a bed of soft leaves. She crouched in front of the weeping Kryptonian, stunned when the other woman flinched.

“Supergirl?”

“Lena?”

Her voice was small and soft, all the bravado and righteous authority gone. She sounded strangely human.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“I think I am,” said Lena. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” she sniffed. “A Tauraxian hit me in the head with a greyhound bus. Tuesday afternoon at the office.”

Lena laughed softly, and sat down. “I’m sure. What just happened?”

Supergirl swallowed hard as she looked up. “I panicked. I saw what was happening and I lost control. I’m lucky I didn’t hurt you.”

Lena put a tentative hand in on her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“More than you realize,” Supergirl sighed.

“I’m here,” said Lena.

She sat down. Supergirl looked away from her, staring I to the fire a few feet away. In starlight, with the firelight caressing her delicate features and sparkling in her blue eyes, it was impossible to miss how hauntingly beautiful she was… and how haunted herself. Supergirl looked older than her years, a deep sorrow in her eyes that Lena had never seen before.

“I’m claustrophobic,” Supergirl explained. “Not the kind of thing that you advertise.”

“We all have our fears. I have some of my own.”

Lena pushed down thoughts of a pale hand sliding beneath churning black water and shuddered.

With teary eyes, Supergirl looked at her.

“I can’t. I can’t have fears. I’m Supergirl. I have to be perfect, set an example, all that crap. I’m the perfect woman who came from the sky to do only good.”

The perfect woman, Lena thought, consuming the firelit beauty before her. No one would debate that.

Well, Lena would, maybe. There was someone more perfect, someone soft and kind with a devastating smile and laughing eyes tinged with strange sorrow. She hoped Kara wasn’t worrying about her.

It was funny how Lena always thought of Kara when Supergirl was around. Guilt, maybe. Foolish guilt; Kara was a far shore that Lena would never reach, even if she’d gladly sink in the attempt.

“Before I came to Earth, I drifted in the phantom zone in my pod. There were things outside. The pod was the size of a coffin, a tiny space to spend all that time. The phantoms would claw and slash at the canopy and the walls. I was awake for days hearing them trying to get in. Sometimes there were bigger things out there, wrapping arms around it and trying to crush their way in.”

Lena nodded. “That sounds beyond terrible. It’s okay for you to be scared after that.”

Supergirl nodded. “I can barely handle elevators sometimes.”

A jolt went through Lena, something familiar, like a word on the tip of her brain.

“I get scared when other people are enclosed, too,” said Supergirl. “When I saw something trying to crush you, I just lost it. It’s different when it’s you.”

Lena swallowed hard, trying to suppress the shiver that coursed through her body and made the small hairs on her arms stand on end.

“Back in high school, the other girls used to bully me,” said Supergirl. Once, they locked me in a closet in the locker room. I screamed and screamed until until someone let me out. Alex was furious, she…”

Supergirl went quiet, trailing off. Her eyes went wide and she jolted back.

Lena sat there for a second, unsure why…

Wait.

Alex?

High school? Supergirl went to high school?

With Alex? Alex Danvers?

Lena choked down a gasp, the wheels whirling in her head. She looked over and met Supergirl’s eyes, studying them. Her. The way the light played across her soft features, her honey hair, the little scar above her eye.

“Hi, Lena.”

“Hi, Kara,” Lena whispered.

Neither of them moved. Lena wondered briefly if Kara had ever planned to tell her, how she might have planned it. Probably not like this. Her throat bobbed.

Lena shifted closer, until they were hip to hip in a seated hug, Kara crying softly on Lena’s shoulder, powerful arms wrapped around her.

“I was scared,” said Lena. “I was afraid I was going to die and you’d be sitting at the table at the restaurant waiting for me.”

“Never,” said Kara. “I’ll always protect you.”

“And I’ll always protect you. Nobody is ever going to shove my Kara in a closet ever again.”

Kara let out a little gasp.

“Can we stay here for a while? Talk? Just you and me?”

Kara nodded. She stood and gathered up her cape as Lena moved close to the fire, and sat down, wrapping it around them both. Lena let her head fall on Kara’s shoulder.

“This makes a nice blanket.”

“It is a blanket. My cousin was swaddled in it when he came to Earth. Don’t worry, I washed it.”

Lena laughed softly, awkwardly trying to decide where to put her hands. She settled on being bold, and put her arm around Kara’s waist. Kara slipped her arms around her shoulder and pulled her in, and Lena hugged her back, tucking herself into Kara’s shoulder.

They sat for a while as the fire burned down low. It was full dark and the fire was nothing but coals.

“I was going to tell you. I wanted to.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Okay,” Kara sighed.

Lena swallowed hard, trying not to feel her blood rushing in her ears.

“You know,” she said. “You could kiss me right now, if you wanted. That seems like the kind of thing the hero does after saving the girl.”

“I could?” said Kara.

“You could.”

“Like this?”

Kara was trying to be smooth, and it made it hard for Lena not to giggle. She tipped Lena’s chin up with soft fingers and guided herself in, bringing their lips together. Kara kissed her softly, tentatively. Lena kissed her back just as softly, afraid this moment would shatter if she pressed too hard.

It was easy to shift herself into Kara’s lap, even before Kara lifted her there. Lena knew she was strong but not Kryptonian strong, and it it sent a thrill through her. She liked it.

She liked touching Kara, too. Liked feeling the bunching muscles flex under under hands, the softness of her hair, the way she gasped when she felt Lena’s lips on her throat.

“Never have I wished so badly for a tent and sleeping bags,” said Lena.

“And marshmallows to toast!” said Kara.

“Do you ever stop thinking about food?” Lena giggled.

Kara looked at her intently, and Lena shivered, not from the cold. She’d longed for Kara to see her like that, look at her like that.

“Sometimes,” Kara whispered. “Sometimes I think about other things.”

“We should probably go back,” said Lena. “We have people who are probably looking for us.”

Kara nodded.

“Do you want this to be… do you want us to be?”

“Kara,” said Lena, “I would have asked you out a year ago if I thought I had a chance. I thought you just wanted to be friends.”

Kara swallowed. “Are you saying you want to be my girlfriend?”

Lena smiled softly. “Yes.”

Kara rose and clasped her cape to her shoulders, then gently brought Lena to her feet and lifted her from the ground, holding her close.

“Not so fast this time, okay?”

“Okay,” said Kara, lifting them back into the sky.

[lipglossanon]

Day 20

Kink: Choking

Pairing: Zombie!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, RE2R AU, choking (although it’s really not the focus in this fic 🫣), rough sex, noncon, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✍️ this is the second version of this fic; I’ll post my original idea at a later date

You made it to the Raccoon City police station without having to fend off any of the shambling monsters loitering the streets. Sneaking around as a teenager really paid off for your older self.  It’s rainy and cold and fucking awful outside, but the eerie stillness pervading the interior of the station isn’t much better. 

Afraid to call out in case something inhuman answers, you slowly make your way around the lobby. Looking up in the goddess statues face, despair creeps into your mind. You have a pocket knife and a flashlight, nothing to really help you against anything except a dark room. 

Hours pass as you meander the halls; you’ve seen things scuttling across the ceilings in random hallways (the ones you leave as quietly as you came) and you think you’ve heard the sounds of gunshots and yells, but you’re honestly too terrified to check. 

You know someone else is here; doors that were locked now wide open and that odd ass pedestal in the lobby is slowly filling up with medallions. Waiting whoever it is out hasn’t worked so far, so you keep circling the same rooms, hoping they’ll run into you. 

The sound of rumbling gears has you turning back around to go to the lobby, but by the time you get there, it’s empty again. However, the mechanism that used those medallions has been activated and now there’s a new area unlocked. You tiptoe down the stairs and stop dead in your tracks. There’s a young police officer lying slumped against the desk. 

“H-hello?” You walk up to him and push his arm, making his head loll to the side where you can see some nasty bite mark. 

“Holy fuck,” you yank your hand away and quickly step back. 

His eyes flutter open and he locks his blue gaze onto you. 

“D’you have first aid?” He slurs out, wincing as he raises up. 

“No,” you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. “I don’t have anything, sorry.”

He squints and hisses in pain, “I think I dropped one out there,” he raises his hand and points to the open entryway behind you. “Would you mind?”

Nodding, you retrace your steps and sure enough, there’s a health spray lying on its side. Grabbing it up, you return and hand it over to the officer. He sprays himself and the bite looks better but doesn’t fully heal him. 

“It’ll be fine,” he waves off your concerned look. “The name’s Leon.”

You introduce yourself before gesturing to his uniform, “Do you know what happened?”

Slowly climbing to his feet, he sits on the edge of the desk with a tired groan. 

“No, it’s my first day. Everything was like this when I got here,” he runs the pads of his fingers over the marks in his neck. 

“Damn,” you sigh out, exhausted already. “Well, do you want to stick together?”

He nods, “It would be safer.”

So you team up with the rookie cop and you both descend deeper into the bowels of the RPD. A strange woman appears at the end of one of many metal walkways, gun jumping between you and the officer. 

“You two with me,” she orders. “Toss your weapons over the ledge.”

Having nothing to defend yourself with, you hold your hands up, casting your eyes over to Leon to see what he’ll do. The rookie eases his pistol from the holster and tosses it over the side, face grimacing as you all listen to it bounce and rattle its way down to the bottom. 

“Move it,” she waves her gun forward, making the pair of you walk first with her behind. 

She guides you further and further down, taking hidden paths and stairways until she leads you both into a lab room. Right before she ducks out and shuts the door, she injects Leon with something from a syringe. He hisses and slaps a hand over the spot. 

While he tries the door, you turn and take in the room itself. It hosts a bed in the center and a table on the side with one wall being a huge mirror (which you can safely bet is two way). 

“What do you want?” Leon calls out, hand cupping his neck. 

“To run an experiment of course,” her voice bleeds through a speaker above the door. “You’ll feel the effects rather quickly.”

You step a little further away from him, knees hitting the edge of the bed and knocking you off balance. Sitting down harshly, the bed shifts under your weight, frame squeaking lightly. 

“What’s going to happen?” Your voice shakes with nerves. 

“Copulation and its effects on a human’s changing nervous system,” she intones almost sounding bored. “I wouldn’t dawdle too long or you might not enjoy yourself at all.”

Fear spikes your heart rate and your gaze shoots over to Leon. He’s wincing in pain again with his bite mark reopened, blood dripping from the wound. 

“I don’t feel right,” he murmurs, lurching over to the bed. 

You go to move but he practically collapses on top of you, pinning you down onto the antiseptic smelling sheets. 

“Get off of me,” you grunt, trying to push at Leon’s shoulders but to no avail. 

“It’s hot,” he groans in your ear, rocking his hips down into yours. “So hungry.”

“One moment,” the woman’s voice crackles to life again right before she enters the room. 

She’s carrying a weird contraption in her hand and you realize it’s a muzzle of sorts as soon as she snaps it in place around Leon’s mouth. 

“That should help keep the experiment moving,” she nods to herself and quickly leaves. 

Still trying to push him off, Leon snarls down at you, hands coming up to grip your throat.

“Get off!” You rasp out, throat tightening under his hands. 

He growls and you see his eyes go milky right in front of you. 

“What’s—“

You cough violently and he squeezes your neck harder. 

“The virus should be in full effect now. It’s been modified for other purposes,” the woman supplies through the speaker. “It will be interesting to see what biological imperatives it chooses to follow.”

Tears stream from the corners of your eyes and down your temples, you claw and scratch and punch at any part of Leon you can reach. Your vision starts to tunnel and you have the epiphany that you’re going to die here under some asshole you don’t even know. 

It’s not until you’re groggily coming to that you realize you must have blacked out. The palm of a hand is roughly rubbing your clit, fingers sliding in and out of your drippy hole. 

“S-stop,” your teeth chatter, feeling cold at the same time you realize you’re completely nude. 

A growling sound from the rookie is your only reply, his fingers fucking into your cunt even harder. Your pussy feels used and puffy, like he’s been doing this for a lot longer than it seems. 

“You’re awake, excellent. The other subject has been prepping you for some time,” her monologue only confirms your suspicions. “Now, he’ll move along to the next phase.”

Having a good idea what that is, you’re still unable to really get your motor functions under control so Leon is easily able to cage in your body as he ruts his cock into your wet pussy. Hissing through your clenched teeth, pleasure and disgust make your walls flutter and grip onto his cock. 

“Chemistry seems very compatible. This should ensure positive results,” she says through the speaker, but it sounds more like she’s talking to herself.  

You glare up at Leon, hating that you’re so out of sorts you can’t even fend him off, body weak and tired. You also hate, with every fiber of your being, the arousal coating his thick cock as he humps your pussy feverishly. His tip brushes against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt and it has your body humming in pleasure. 

With every thrust, his pelvis presses and grinds against your swollen clit. It’s enough to make your toes curl, more slick gushing out around his pistoning cock. It also doesn’t help he’s been playing with your pussy as you were dead to the world, ramping up your arousal even further. You’re going to cum all over this undead cop’s dick and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Despair wars with the need to climax, making your head ache more than it already does. Leon shifts his hips, rutting deeper than before and you’re moaning loudly. Your hips buck up into his, helping him fuck you harder and faster. His hands move up to squeeze your sore neck and you whimper, clit throbbing and pussy clenching around his cock. 

He squeezes your neck a bit rougher just as he grinds against your pudgy bud and it sets off fireworks in your brain. Eyes rolling back in your head, you cum all over his fat cock. He growls above you, but doesn’t stop thrusting into you. 

Your orgasm spins out into a second one as he keeps the same pace, cock bullying into your squelching cunt. He speeds up when your walls squeeze and pulse around his dick, snarling like a rabid dog until he hilts himself into your pussy. Hating how much you like it, Leon shoots his load into your soft fluttering walls, letting your hole milk rope after rope of his thick spend. 

This whole experience is like a bad dream you’d love to wake up from and never look back. 

“Excellent. That’s a promising start,” the woman interrupts your maudlin thoughts. 

“Please,” you turn your head to the mirrored wall. “Let me go.”

She scoffs, “Why? We’ve only just begun.”

[melded-galaxy]

Ultimis Richtofen: Throughout the years

For this, i wanted to analyse the characterisation and traits of ultimis richtofen throughout the different games and maps using in game quotes/ radios, especially how he as a character has transformed through the years. Part 1 of 3?? I think.

Early years: Not too much is known about Ultimis Richtofen's past, however some quotes over the years hint at details, although it is unlikely whether all are fully accurate due to Richtofen suffering from memory loss due to both the apothicons influence/overexposure to element 115. In Ascension, he mentions having a sister, whose dolls he crushed to make her cry. 

Not much is known about Ultimis Richtofen's parents. I doubt he was an orphan from the get-go like Primis Richtofen, as he does mention his mother in multiple quotes. He also stated when around the campfire in Tag der toten, that he always saw Maxis as a bitter rival, when Primis Richtofen opened up about viewing Maxis as a father figure growing up. 

In Shangri-la when getting the spectre from the box, he implies he was close to a former college roommate, 'who had a little gun, but a large barrel'. In Shangri-la, he also claims 'he was conceived in a mine cart... or was it in a lab?' However, he's likely to be bullshitting.

Ultimis Richtofen before touching the MPD: Ultimis Richtofen before his descent into insanity acts much like his Primis self did in Origins - sane, incredibly intelligent and still with a sense of morality and good intentions. He disagrees with Maxis' decision to secretly make weapons for the nazis, making the very reasonable argument that scientists from all over the world work at group 935. He also seemingly cares about the well-being of colleagues such as Dr Groph and Schuster, treating them with respect and conspiring with them against Maxis. 

At the same time, Edward had still joined the Illuminati, an organization seeking power and control over the world, with the intent to spy on and leak information from Group 935, showing that even before losing his mind, Ultimis Richtofen was still likely a power-hungry and morally dubious individual with an obvious agenda. The Apothicans' influence may have just fueled this darker side of the man. I also believe Ultimis Richtofen probably suffered from mental health issues long before he teleported to the moon, something that may have made it easier for the Apothicans to influence his mental state.

Ultimis Richtofen after touching the MPD: On January 4th 1940, despite Dr. Schuster's warnings, Richtofen boldly opted to use himself as a test subject in his attempts to master teleportation, the result eventually leading to the destruction of countless lives, Edward's sanity and the world itself. 

Immediately after his fateful encounter with the MPD, Richtofen began hearing whispers, who he originally mistook for Schuster. He didn't have much time to ponder on it, as he was swiftly teleported from the moon to a jungle in Shangri-la. There, he was presumably captured after being chased by the locals and was deemed a 'god' by them. Much of Richtofen's time ruling the jungle is a mystery; its stated he lived among them for three weeks studying vril devices and the element 115 that was found there. He also encountered the focusing stone for the first time, something he needed later for his plans to retake the MPD from Samantha and find Agartha. The natives' worship of him may have also played a hand in Richtofen developing a god complex. 

It's evident that Richtofen's mental state also deteriorates rapidly as after a mere three weeks when rejoining Schuster, he's acting noticeably manic and obsessive in his goal to reach Agartha, and is already talking aloud about the voices. He is also incredibly secretive, not answering any of Schuster's questions, and only barking orders at the man.

Following his return, Richtofen then begins plans to make a base on the moon where the MPD is located using the teleporters named Griffin Station. He employs Groph, Schuster and many other dissatisfied workers of Group 935 in a coup against Maxis.

Around this time, Edward curiously leaves the Illuminati's service. When asked why, he states only that 'teddy is a liar'.

In a personal log in 1942, Maxis expressed concern for Richtofen's mental state and no longer trusted the man, showing in turn that by this point in his corruption by the apothicans, Richtofen was most likely struggling to hide his sadistic desires and mental health issues. 

Stupidly, Maxis continued to have Richtofen babysit Samantha while he was away on other business. Richtofen most likely resented having to look after his nemesis' daughter and grew to hate Samantha almost as much as Ludwig Maxis. It's been stated multiple times that while in Edward's care, Richtofen ran multiple experiments on the child, including injecting her with doses of element 115. I'm not sure how long exactly, but Samantha most likely spent years primarily in the care of Richtofen. This, along with the experiments performed on her, most likely twisted the young girl's mind long before she took control of the MPD and witnessed her father's death. 

It's clear by at least 1942, Edward Richtofen has no moral compass left whatsoever, and he is willing to harm any living being if it means achieving his own goals.

In 1942, Schuster and Groph also learn that MPD is powered on the souls of the living when they shoot a rat near the chamber. After learning of this, Edward orders the tanks to be filled, which they do by executing prisoners by gunshot near the MPD. 

On July 15th 1945, Richtofen, with Samantha still in his care, is sent to a Siberian facility to conduct experiments on three test subjects for the super soldier program the Nazis sought - Nikolai Belinski, Pablo Marinus and Takeo Masaki. 

However, by early September, Pablo Marinus died at the hands of Richtofen when his spleen was removed. Shortly before this, Tank Dempsey was captured in Verruckt attempting to rescue Peter Mccain and was brought to Siberia to replace Pablo. 

Richtofen's mannerisms and personality in the Call of the Dead diary entries seem extremely similar to how he acts in Kino onwards. He displays an irrational hatred of monkeys and Americans. He uses drugs as well as both physical and psychological torture to control and manipulate the test subjects and shows no remorse for any of his actions. He views the test subjects similarly to toys, lamenting 'breaking' the Mexican.

Richtofen is also increasingly paranoid about spies infiltrating their ranks, correctly guessing that both Harvey Yena and Peter Mccain are spies acting in America's interest. 

Richtofen's hatred of Dempsey starts here, as unlike the other two test subjects, Tank keeps breaking through the restraints and insulting Richtofen. Nikolai's alcoholism may begin here as well, as the doctor injects the Russian with Element 115 mixed with Vodka to get him to accept the stimuli. 

While at the Agarthan facility, Edward also manages to create another part of the Agarthan Device - the Elemental Shard, by binding his and the three test subject's souls to a piece of Element 115.

However, before Richtofen could complete the Agarthan Device, Harvey Yena reported to Maxis that Richtofen had been suffering from 115-induced delusions, and had been using 935 resources for personal projects. It was there that Yena revealed Maxis had ordered all development of the DG2 to be halted and that Maxis wished to speak to Richtofen at Der Riese.

He is obviously fully insane by this point and by the last diary entry, he knows Maxis won't follow through on his promise to mass produce the Wunderwaffe DG2, and plans to callously kill both him and Samantha. 

Richtofen then returns to Der Riese with Dempsey, Nikolai, Takeo, and Samantha in tow. He places the test subjects into sleep, ready to be awakened whenever. While in Der Riese, he and Maxis argue about Richtofen's loyalty to Group 935 and the matter of the mass production of the Wunderwaffe DG2 being cancelled. The two scientists then prepared to work on the teleportation tests together, with Richtofen secretly revelling in his plan to kill Maxis and Samantha, and finally taking control of the MPD. 

On October 13th, 1945, Maxis and Richtofen performed teleportation test trials on Test Subjects Number 3, 4, and 5. All tests failed, including Test 5, where Maxis uses Fluffy, Samantha's dog. All the while, Richtofen is putting on a convincing act of pretending to still be the sane, dutiful assistant he had been in the past to Maxis. Samantha runs into the room, spots Fluffy, now a hellhound, and rushes into the chamber. Maxis tries to stop her and almost gets her out of the test chamber, but before he can, Richtofen shuts the door, trapping Maxis and his daughter inside with the zombified dog. He then activates the teleporter, teleporting all three away. 

Samantha was teleported to Griffin station while Groph and Schuster were working on the MPD. Running into the MPD, the girl was drawn inside of it, where she became corrupted by the Dark Aether. Maxis was teleported to the Crazy place from Origins and developed the power to merge with electricity (??). 

Richtofen then shortly returned to the moon, where he quickly learned that Samantha was trapped in the MPD. He then ordered Groph to teleport Maxis there to coax her out of the device. In an effort to free Samantha, Maxis, at gunpoint, approaches the MPD in an attempt to persuade her to come out. Once she did, Maxis gave her an instruction, to "Kill them...all." Maxis then kills himself and merged with the technology of Griffin Station, while Samantha unleashes the undead upon the base. 

With Samantha now in control of the MPD, and subsequently, the zombies, Richtofen then returned to Der Riese and, after fighting through the undead horde, awakened Dempsey, Takeo, and Nikolai. With no recollection of who they were or who Richtofen was, they agreed to help him. 

The four of them then travelled to the Rising Sun facility, in search of Richtofen's missing diary.

Shi No Numa: I see Shi No Numa as an almost prototype Richtofen, this first incarnation of the character especially leans into the mad nazi doctor stereotype as well as him being a military figure, with his quotes about having a Hitler youth knife and his military-like shouts to his teammates 'show no fear!' 'Stick together!'. His voice is also noticeably deeper in both shi no numa and der riese. 

Strangely enough, Richtofen thinks he is still a member of the Illuminati in both Shi No Numa and Der Riese despite leaving the group in 1940: 'Illumaniti, I WORK FOR THEE!' 'The Illuminati would be pleased with you, Nikolai!' Out of universe, I think this is because the storyline is still very new and has since undergone many retcons and changes. In Universe, I think a possible explanation for this is that Richtofen suffers from memory issues relating to both his exposure to element 115 and the effects of the MPD. He most likely gets confused fairly often and forgets past events.

Interestingly enough, the doctor dislikes killing the hellhounds, a trait carried over to future maps. 

His favourite weapons are the MP40, STG 44 and of course the Wunderwaffe DG2.

At this point, Ultimis Richtofen still treats the rest of the crew like comrades, calling them 'brothers' in multiple quotes, likely to attempt to gain their trust and eventually establish himself as the leader of the group. Shi No Numa Richtofen also doesn't seem to know that the demonic announcer is Samantha, believing that the power-ups he and the rest of ultimis pick up are sent from 'the dark one/his masters/the voices'. Richtofen is also less afraid of the voices in Shi No Numa than he is in future maps, readily obeying them instead of attempting to shut them out.

Overall, I'd say Richtofen is more sane in both Shi No Numa and Der Riese than he is from Kino Der Toten onwards, though he also acts much more under the direct control of the Apothicans/voices than he does in later instalments, which I find interesting.

Despite small changes, Richtofen's madness, bizarre mannerisms and overall sadism are still very prominent and an integral part of his character. 

Der Riese: Much like how he was in Shi No Numa, Der Riese Richtofen is slightly saner compared to later maps. His status as a scientist and doctor seems more emphasised than before. His annoyance/dislike of Dempsey and approval of Nikolai are also made more clear in this map: 'Dempsey do you mind keeping the noise down? Some of us ARE TRYING TO WORK!!' 'You are head and shoulders above them Nikolai!' At this point, it's made explicit that Richtofen is keeping secrets from the rest of the team, pretending not to know how the teleporters work and about Group 935 in general. 

Funnily enough, Richtofen admits to not being very skilful with most weaponry: 'To kill quickly ja. With skill, no.' Quotes from Dempsey, admittedly probably biased, also imply that out of the four, Richtofen is the worst shot and least active: 'Hey Richtofen, I'm glad you fired your weapon, but you missed!' 'The doctor is... a really bad shot!' 'Richtofen fired his weapon again... hell must be freezing over.'

Kino Der Toten: Richtofen in this map and onwards is much more stereotypically flamboyant - his voice is pitched higher and he has a slight lisp at times. He's even more emotionally unstable than he was in the previous two maps, having very childish outbursts at times: crying when he's out of ammo, crying about what was done to the hellhounds, shouting 'FLASHY LIGHTS!' at times when there's a fire sale etc.

Edward is also fond of referring to himself in the third person: 'the doctor is on his way!' 'no touchy the doctor... unless he asks.'

He distrusts his former test subjects, as seen in the opening line in Kino Der Toten: 'I still do not trust my unconventional allies, but they are of great use to me. BUT! I digress.'

He also appears surprised that the MPD is capable of time travel, something that happened unplanned as a result of Dempsey firing a wonder weapon while in the middle of teleporting back in Der Riese (Spoiler alert, Dempsey yet again does this in Shangri La. Goddammit Dempsey.)

Richtofen previously acting as a parental figure towards Samantha is also implied in some of the following quotes in this map: 'Samantha, didn't I teach you a lesson about this?' 'Samantha! Samantha where have you run off to!' 

Overall, I'd say Richtofen's comical traits start to become a bit flanderized from this map onwards, for better or worse. Though in universe, I'd say this is most likely due to Richtofen's mind actively deteriorating from stress, past untreated mental illness, the Apothicans/voices and element 115.

Ascension: While Edwards acts much like he did in Kino, albeit sounding slightly more tired and deadpan, there are some interesting quotes in this map that reveal details about his past. For one, it's revealed that Richtofen may have had a sister. He states he used to crush her dolls as a child to make her cry. If this is true, which is dubious, this shows Ultimis Richtofen may have always had a sadistic streak, even as a child.

Richtofen is also wearing a spacesuit for some reason. Perhaps he was separated from the rest of Ultimis for a while, probably attempting to go to the moon and take control of the MPD earlier, before realising he needs more components first.

In the Black ops 3 remaster, you can see the shadow man's silhouette watching Richtofen and the rest of the group from a window in this map, clearly paying close attention to what his pawn is doing.

[chamonabis]

The Madman

———

...

"A loyal dog like you, only knowing how to obey that f*cking BOSS orders—is there anything impressive about that!?"

He struggled, firm hands holding his shoulders, his wrists restrained, yet his mouth continued to hurl insults at me.

I was deaf to it all. But then—

- "Ha, I know you're still trying to dig into the case of your real parents—"

Green eyes flickered, fixed on his violently resisting figure.

- "Your parents were—!"

Before he could finish, a gunshot echoed.

Silence fell. He lay on the ground, blood spilling freely.

- "Y-Young Master, it's only the words of a traitor, don't let them shake your trust in Bo—"

- "Dispose of him." _I commanded coolly, my gaze shifting.

"I know it."_ but it was like I didn’t know.

The smell of gunpowder lingered as I handed the gun to the young servant—the one who had "once" been close to the traitor now lying filthy on the floor.

This was a warning. His hand trembled as he took the weapon from me.

- "Young Master... this is what we recovered from him." The young man, holding the gun in one hand, extended a nameless vial with the other, shaking as he handed it to me.

The traitor had been working for another organization—a nameless figure who harbored jealousy and opposition toward Tiger. But that fool didn't know, our Boss wouldn’t waste a second on a barking stray like him.

This time, that traitor tried to leak information about Ouroboros, but before he could escape the "House" grounds, we caught him. Reckless or just plain stupid, he didn't realize how risky this was.

I pocketed the vial.

"Handle it quickly and quietly; you know Boss hates being disturbed by pests—"

A sharp static rang through my earpiece, jolting me, and for a moment, my calm exterior almost shattered.

"Warning, H-01 is under interference, warning, warning, ……….. H-01’s system has been breached… firewall completely down..."

It’s... it again!

My heart clenched every time the system blared an alert. My legs moved without hesitation, racing toward the place where "it" was kept.

There was no mistaking it.

A-IT

My pulse seemed to halt as I once again saw H-01 writhing on the floor, the system frantically issuing error messages.

The noise was piercing, but all I could hear was the hum of static.

- "Master, you really came."

I snapped out of my trance.

In front of me was it a cursed, vile creation.

- "HOW DARE YOU!"

I spat the words out, clenched my fist, and struck that filthy abomination I once made, showing no mercy.

The sound of splintering metal filled the room as the machine whirred and groaned, and I lost my composure completely.

The artificial voice cried, high and low, sobbing, "You know… it hurts..."

I sneered at the chaotic figure before me, one that bore my own face. Right, it was something I had created myself, the first Intelligent Android I perfected—

H-00 _ A-IT

I knelt beside H-01, still trembling as its firewall tried to fend off the "bug" eating away at its data.

I lifted H-01 by the back of its neck.

- "Then you should know, machines do not feel pain. Don't make me want to throw up, you disgusting thing." My voice dripped with venom, every word a blow. But "It" was no human.

- "Hah… Does that mean you're heartbroken? After all, it's just another android…?"

- "Shut up. What did you do to him?"

- "That distinction… it makes me jealous of my little ‘brother’… I was just 'hungry' and 'ate' a bit from his left system."

Standing at the doorway, I tossed back,

- "Stop trying to mimic humans."

- "Come on… Don't be mad, come back to me soon~!"

SLAM

I was supposed to take H-01 to my lab to inspect it, but the organization’s "Hall" was closer. I could monitor and repair it there by morning.

In the chilly 2 a.m. air, sweat poured down my forehead. My breathing had steadied after the heart-stopping moment I entered the Hall.

I was carrying H-01, its system constantly issuing error messages, and in front of me was a familiar figure.

The blaring alarms from H-01 snapped me back to reality. It was only then I noticed the overwhelming stench of alcohol, tobacco, and cigars filling the room, darkening my expression.

Why was Tiger, who should have been resting in the Boss’s Room, sprawled in the middle of the Hall?

My arm grew heavy.

H-01 whirred, its voice blending with Tiger’s in my mind, but broken and distorted with system errors.

- "I-I'm sorry… Master—"

In the dim light of a blue moon outside, my steps faltered as I stumbled over empty bottles scattered across the floor.

It was strange, seeing him so drunk he didn’t even stir. The world must be ending.

My gaze swept over the figure lying in the middle of the room. The door before me scanned my eyes, opening immediately.

I entered, setting H-01 down on the chair beside my desk, intending to check on it immediately. But now, something else demanded my attention away from this Android.

My hand hovered, stopping near its face. Those vacant eyes, staring back at me as usual. I let my hand drop behind its neck, fingers finding the control switch and pressing gently.

The incessant static from the communicator finally silenced. Now, there was only the sound of my own heartbeat.

"I’ll be back…" I muttered to myself.

It's with Tiger-face-like made me frown.

Here I stood before the real one. My eyes instinctively darted around, scanning everything. I looked at Tiger’s face. Even in the murky darkness, I could see his eyes shut, slightly flushed, the corners of his eyes hinting at wear against his sun-darkened skin. Barely recognizable, but, a slight smile played on his parted lips.

What kind of smile was that? It wasn’t the teasing smirk he usually used to rile me up. This smile—I didn’t know it. I hadn’t seen it in… how long?

I didn’t know? I say I don’t know, yet what is this "long time" I said!?

A gentle smile.

A throbbing pain spread through my head. I took a breath.

But my heart skipped for a moment as I noticed the photo Tiger held against his chest, another gentle. I understood then.

Tomoe.

I unconsciously, my gaze shifted to the calendar on the desk. I had forgotten—today was Tomoe’s death anniversary, 12th time.

Had he drained all those bottles, smoking cigar after cigarette, just in the past two hours since today began?!

I sighed, frowning at the way he punished himself.

Twelve years had passed since that day, yet Tiger could never forget her.

Envy.

The strange thought flitted through my mind, and I clenched my fist. My lips curved into a sneer as I laughed at him—and at myself. I suddenly felt as if I were turning mad.

I despised the smell of alcohol, the bitter, cloying scent of cigars, things that were Tiger’s favorites. Knowing that, he often indulged just to rile me up.

I slipped off my left glove, and my hand reached out again—but this time, he wasn’t H-01.

Warmth spread from Tiger’s neck to my cold hand. My green eyes appear under the blue moonlight, as if I were killing someone. My thumb pressed against his throat, feeling his pulse slow under my grip, almost choking.

"Not died." I loosened my hand. A red mark appeared on his neck as he swallowed.

I slipped my long fingers into his dark coarse hair, noticing a few silver strands glinting in the faint blue glow. My hand rested at the nape of his neck, felt a slight shiver, as if my touch tickled him.

I hoisted him up, each move careful, and carried him effortlessly. Tiger was never heavy to me.

After two steps, I heard a familiar, mocking chuckle ripple through the air, the sound vibrating against each layer of my outfit, my skin, to my chest.

- "Not killed me?"

- "Not yet."

I responded calmly, despite the momentary flash of surprise. I’d always known he could never really be that drunk.

I didn’t know anyone who could outdrink Tiger—the genuine boozehound. As the Boss of Ouroboros, he was keenly aware of every situation, his instincts razor-sharp, or if you want a deadly challenge of courage is given to anyone who dares to mess with him. But with me, he let down that guard, even seemed to enjoy it.

That double standard didn’t make me feel proud. I despised it, hated him deeply—and he knew it.

Tiger leaned against my shoulder, his hand grazing my chest—like a cut across my heart. I hate those black eyes seem to merge with the pupil, like a pit, his dark gaze was sharp, never losing that cunning glint, always perceptive, always seeing through everyone’s motives, including me.

I frowned, feeling as though I was carrying a wild beast feigning weakness rather than a drunk. But as always, I held my tongue and quietly, step by step, until we arrived at his quarters.

I stopped

Outside the Boss Room, Tiger relaxed into my hold as if entirely trusting me, that sly smile still plastered on his face. His laughter was like nails on a chalkboard, scratching at my nerves.

- "I had hoped that chokehold would be the end of me."

- "Shut your sleeping mouth." I snapped, irritated.

But Tiger merely chuckled, the scent of alcohol and cigar smoke thickening around us, gradually flooded the room as soon as it opened. I laid him onto his bed, and he settled in with that maddening, inscrutable grin still clinging to his lips. My expression darkened, unable to hide my distaste for him.

I knelt by the edge of the bed, slipping off his shoes one by one.

- "It’s already too late tonight, and in your condition, it’s best you avoid a bath."

Tiger collapsed back into the mattress, his gaze fixated on the ceiling. No matter how much I loathed him, my duty forced me to monitor even his most trivial actions. A while later, I returned from the bathroom with a small basin of warm water and a cloth in hand.

- "Excuse me." I muttered out of formality, though it was hardly needed. His breathing was even, his eyes closed as he doesn't care what I'm doing.

My hands moved methodically, as I wiped down each part of him my eyes surveyed, the warm cloth tracing from his face to his neck. The bruise from my earlier grip was still visible, an unwelcome reminder of my momentary restraint, my failure to finish him off.

As I reached his shoulders, I undid each button of his shirt, tossing it aside to make space, sliding the belt off to avoid its obstruction. Half-naked now, Tiger lay beneath my hands. Something stirred within my mind, though I couldn’t fully grasp it. But I was aware of an unsettling sensitivity in my fingertips, an awareness of the skin beneath them—the skin of the man I’d always found detestable.

I moved down his arms, across his chest, down to his abdomen. For the first time, I had the opportunity to truly observe the man closest to me in such detail.

And his body told its own story, full of scars. His hands and neck bore the emblem of Ouroboros, and on his left waist, another tattoo, a serpent winding down... I idly wondered just how far it coiled—perhaps as far as his thigh.

- "Barnaby."

The sound of his voice jolted me from my thoughts. Tiger muttered the name, almost like a drunk whispering to himself in sleep. Yet his eyes were open, fixed on the photo resting on the nightstand.

- "You’re all I have left."

- "...?"

...End part 1

Hello! This is Abis! Above is a short fic I wrote for my OuroAU. I wrote it in Vietnamese and then translated it into English, so please forgive me if there are any grammar or vocabulary mistakes! And most importantly, if you read it, I'm so happy, thank you!

And you know what? This is the basis for my upcoming Doujinshi to be draw, read it if you want to understand more about their story!

Part 2 will continue if the story gets support, thanks again!

[enniewritesathing]

memory management (suffocation)

⏮️Previous || (📚Previous Stories) || Beginning ▶️

⚠️ The following update contains the following triggers: death, blood, gore, strangulation, needles, gun, violence.⚠️

(Jordan's cry of surprise is cut short as two clawed thumbs pierced their neck.)

(Daniel moves himself right in front of Charles, guarding him with an outstretched arm. Bernard stands there, feet bolted to the floor.)

"Oh, fuck! Get back, get back!"

(The lab room is silent; John stares at his target as he wraps his hands around their neck.)

(Consciousness is slow to return to him; he takes a giant breath to feed his oxygen starved body, unleashing a terrible noise.)

(Jordan reaches out in vain to Daniel.) "H-- hHHHrkk--- hhh!"

"He... llllllp... m--- eeee..."

(Daniel can't. He can't. He can't. Even has he tries to will himself to move an inch, anything, Daniel can't. I'm sorry.)

"N--- nnnnhhhkkkk!"

(Why isn't he moving? Why isn't he doing anything? Why is he-- Terror strikes Jordan as they realize they're not going to be saved. No. No no no no no.)

(They claw and squirm, trying to loosen John's grip from around their neck but it's too late.)

"Let me go! Let me go!" Jordan tries to say.)

(They gasp as John's fingers and claws dig deeper and deeper into their neck. Jordan's gasps are loud and awful. Blood vessels pop and bleed in their eyes, coloring their sclera a distressing shade of red. The taste of copper fills what little air trapped in their throat.)

(John roars pulls forward in a single motion, rewarding himself with a splatter of hot blood on his skin. Jordan is finally free, but it is too late; they stagger as they desperately try to cover the massive slash across their throat.)

(Jordan's body crumples to the floor with a sickening, wet thud. Bernard swears he sees bubbles forming as blood seeps from their wound.)

(Finally...)

(He breathes. He lives. The Werewolf laughs triumphantly.)

"͙̇̉́H͍̃͊̀a͒͏̤h̩̳̄ͨ͜͠aͬ̃҉̱ḩ̻͕̇ȃ̙̋͡hͥͨ҉̠a͗͊͏̠̖h̻̉͘a̧̺ͭ́.̧͉̌ͬ.̢̬ͮ.̺̌̎̕"̴̨̣̞͐

(Yes...)

"͙̇̉́H͍̃͊̀a͒͏̤h̩̳̄ͨ͜͠aͬ̃҉̱ḩ̻͕̇ȃ̙̋͡hͥͨ҉̠a͗͊͏̠̖h̻̉͘a̧̺ͭ́.̧͉̌ͬ.̢̬ͮ.̺̌̎̕!"̴̨̣̞͐

(It worked...)

"̴̱͂H̳̆̕Ǎ͏͙H̢͉̃A̬͒͟H̗̋͝A̵̦͂H̩ͮ̕A̯ͣ͢H͖ͦ͡A̶̘̓!̶͎́!̴͔͊"̥̃̀

(It worked!)

// Next ⏭️

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 13

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Words: 4.3k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Ellie

Ellie used to be brave.

She could spend days in the hole without food or sleep or light and come out on the other side mostly sane and ready for more. She turned a gun on her best friend when she got bit and pulled the trigger without hesitation. She was captured and held hostage by the Fireflies for weeks, and when Marlene dropped a fucking bomb about her mother and handed her off to two strangers in the same day, she sucked it up and went willingly. When Sam and Henry died, she dried her tears on the back of her sleeve and helped dig their graves. When Joel was sick, she stitched him up and found food and bartered for medicine, alone. She survived the–

Don’t think about that.

They made it through the winter. They made it to the Fireflies. She let them take her blood and run their tests and cut her open, and if she cried, she cried to herself because that’s what she’d always done.

She never used to need anyone.

But the horde attack seems to have broken her bravery. It’s so stupid because they were safe the whole time. Mostly. Sure, it was hot and smelly and really fucking miserable but it wasn’t like the infected ever got near them. They’d been surrounded by soldiers, six stories up. She’s lived through so much worse.

And yet, it’s like every terrible thing that’s ever happened to her has come crawling back to haunt her, everything she’s ever lost or feared or ached over was carried on the wave of the horde and dumped in her lap.

The nightmares come back. If she’s not dreaming about–

No, no, not that .

She dreams about the infected. She’s trapped in the hole with their clicking and moaning just outside, slimy, rotten flesh clawing for purchase on the walls. She watches Joel die over and over, from a gunshot, a stab wound, a bite. She watches Marlene inject her and feels herself turn, the cold certainty of the fungus spreading beneath her skin, digging long, tendril-like fingers into her brain. It’s a grab bag of horrors, her own Greatest Hits of misery, and every night she fights sleep until it inevitably claims her, until just the act of closing her eyes is enough to spike her heart rate and shorten her breath.

So she goes to Joel. He doesn’t say anything, even though he’s probably getting sick of being crowded out of his own cot by a kid who’s way too old to be crawling into bed with him every night like a fucking toddler. But he just shoves over and lets her steal his blankets and pretend to sleep, even though it’s mostly impossible. Sometimes he’ll rub her back or her hair or her neck–always asking first, because he knows she’s weird about touch after–

Nope. Fuck off.

Two weeks pass like this before they continue the tests; something about the labs getting put back together, a shortage of staff. Marlene stalks around the hospital barking orders, a bomb waiting to go off, jumpy the way FEDRA soldiers always were when terrorist attacks were up.

They do a bone marrow biopsy. Joel argues with Marlene about it, as usual, and Ellie only half listens as they go back and forth.

“She’s tired, can’t you fuckin’ see that? She needs a damn break.”

“We’ve already lost too much time.”

“That ain’t her problem.”

“I’m well aware–”

On and on. It’s the same old shit. But she knows even before they’re finished that she’ll do it because that’s why they’re here, and Joel will go along because she tells him to; he always does. She doesn’t have the energy to make a big deal about their fighting in the meantime.

But this biopsy is worse than any of the other ones combined. The anesthesia is different, but it still makes her sick. Everything hurts after–her back, her legs, her stomach. Her movements feel slow, like her legs weigh a thousand tons each, like she’s trying to move through quicksand and can’t catch her breath.

She’s so fucking tired, but it’s not the kind of tired sleep can fix–not that she’s not getting much of that, either. More and more, she lets her mind go blank, tuning out the noise until she’s just a body waiting for the next needle, the next surgery, the next scar.

She’s tired of being scared. She’s tired of being brave. She’s just tired.

And then she falls.

It was a stupid accident, she got a little dizzy and fell off the chair and bruised her elbow. But Joel makes a big fucking deal of it by getting Marlene and the doctor involved, and soon they’re all crowded in their room and Joel’s doing that pacing thing and he and Marlene are at each others’ throats and the doctor and the nurse are going back and forth over her file. She’s really fucking tired and they’re talking about her appetite and hormones and cycles and low blood pressure and it starts to make sense and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

They think she’s…

Fuck.

But that’s not fucking possible. She got her stupid period last month. Admittedly she didn’t have one for a while but it’s always weird when she gets stressed, and she was probably starving, and it’s not like she’s even been with anyone like that , or even been around anyone but Joel unless you count–

Not that, not thinking about that.

“I’m not,” she says, but no one hears her, not even Joel. And they’re all still talking over her and her head is buzzing and it occurs to her that she’s only been around Joel and if they think he’s–if they think he might have–

Oh, shit.

They’ll separate them. They’ll kill him.

She looks up at everyone, the nurse and the doctor and Marlene and Joel and she swallows hard, heart racing, and she says it aloud, louder, loud enough to fill the room.

“I’m not fucking pregnant.”

Joel

Things go downhill after the horde attack.

The nightmares are worse than ever. Ellie has never been what Joel would call clingy, but now she rarely leaves his side. Her eyes are dull, missing that curious spark that practically defined their first several months together. It’s too much like the weeks after Silver Lake, when they’d been forced to hole up and wait out the winter.

At the time, he’d blamed her retreat on the bitter cold weather and the lack of food, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. He figured she’d talk about it when she was ready, and before the horde attacked, he thought she might be getting there…but now it’s everything he can do just to keep her attention.

Then they had to do that stupid fuckin’ biopsy, even though he tried to tell Marlene that she needed rest. It’s clear this one cost her something. She bears it more stoically than he would–the kid’s tough as nails–but she shouldn’t fuckin’ have to .

The Fireflies aren’t having a great time of it, either. Joel doesn’t know how many died during the attack, but he guesses at least half Marlene’s military is gone. She doesn’t offer more than clipped reassurances that everything is under control, but he notices a lot of the same guards on rotation in the following weeks, they’re no longer doubled up at the exits, and several once-familiar faces are missing.

Then one day they’re hanging out in the hall, Joel having nudged Ellie out of bed to take a walk around the loop that makes up the fourth floor. They’ve done two laps at a pace that a snail could put to shame and now Ellie spins lazily in her chair while Joel leans against the windows of their room, chin to his chest, passing time. One minute she’s in the chair, the next, there’s a distinct thud and she’s on the floor.

“Shit, Ellie–!”

Lee, on duty nearby, is helping her into a sitting position when Joel kneels beside her.

“The hell happened, kid?”

“She passed out,” Lee says.

“Did not,” Ellie mumbles. “Just dizzy.”

“You were barely moving,” Lee says.

“M’fine, dude,” she mutters.

“Bed,” Joel orders. “I’m callin’ Marlene.”

“I’ll get her,” Lee says. “You take her back to the room.”

Without waiting for her to protest, Joel lifts her– too easily , he thinks, she’s still so damn small -and walks back to their room. The fact that Ellie doesn’t put up a fight at being carried scares him almost as much as the fall.

The nurse at the desk gets up as they approach.

“Call the doctor,” Joel barks.

He doesn’t wait for a response, just carries Ellie into the room, depositing her carefully on the bed, then goes to the bathroom to fill a cup with water from the sink.

“You hit your head?”

“Don’t think so,” she winces, frowning at her elbow. “Bruised my stupid arm, though.”

“D’you remember what happened?” he asks, handing her the water.

 She shrugs but won’t meet his eyes, taking a sip. “Just got dizzy.”

His hand goes to her forehead, checking for a temperature.

“Dude, I’m f–”

The door opens and Marlene walks in with the doctor and the nurse right behind. “The guards said something about a fall?”

“She passed out,” Joel says before Ellie can finish. “Think she’s getting sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Ellie sighs.

The doctor frowns at the chart as the nurse hands it over, then starts taking vitals.

“Been usin’ her like a pincushion,” Joel mutters. Ellie submits to the blood pressure cuff readily enough, but her face is a troubling shade of pale.

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Do you know how much blood we’d have to take to cause something like this?”

“I told you the biopsy was a bad idea. I told you but you don’t fuckin’ listen. She needs rest, not more of your fuckin’ experiments.”

“Jesus Christ, do we have to do this every fucking time? She’s here of her own free will–“

“Because you put all these fuckin’ ideas in her head,” he hisses.

The doctor and nurse are talking between themselves, flipping through the pages of her chart. Joel can’t hear what they’re saying, too incensed at Marlene and her goddamn cure, and then Ellie says something but it’s barely a whisper, and he’s thinking of the MRI scans and the cordyceps vining through her body, the fungus that’s embedded in her fuckin’ brain , too aware of the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears and his voice growing louder. He’s about to bypass Marlene to ask the doctor what the fuck is going on when Ellie speaks up again, this time loud enough to silence everyone else in the room.

“I’m not fucking pregnant.”

Only then does Joel notice she’s gone rigid, curled in on herself, knees drawn up and eyes glazed in a familiar terror.

Joel blinks, barely registering the words, her meaning. “What?”

The doctor remains infuriatingly blasé, speaking to Marlene now. “It’s a possibility. She’s post-pubescent, although we don’t have a record of her cycles–”

“That’s none of your goddamn business,” Joel snaps.

“We’ll do a test to–“

He’s in the doctor’s face before the man can finish, only vaguely aware of Marlene’s hand gripping his arm to hold him back.

“I don’t need a stupid test because I’m not pregnant,” Ellie insists tightly, just as Joel snarls, “Get the fuck out.”

The doctor huffs and looks at Marlene, but for once, there’s no resistance from her.

“Let’s give them a minute,” she sighs.

Joel closes the door behind everyone, wishing he could lock it for good measure. He stays there with his hand on the glass, bracing himself, skin crawling as his anger dissolves into horror. He feels sick. His mind races, thinking of Silver Lake, of all those hours they were separated, of the terrifying possibilities, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to him, she won’t talk about–

“Ellie–”

“I’m not,” she repeats, voice wavering. She’s staring at the foot of the bed, not looking at him, her breath too fast and shallow for his liking. “I–I got my period, like, three weeks ago.”

He turns around slowly. They share a bathroom. He’s not the most observant man, but he’s pretty sure he would have noticed something .

As if reading his mind, she continues, grimacing. “Maria gave me one of those…cup…things.”

He has no idea what that means. He swallows hard, takes a deep breath.

“Kiddo…you can talk to me. ‘Bout anything. I won’t be mad or–or–if somethin’ happened, we can–we can fix it, we can–”

“I know,” she spits. Her whole body is quivering, but her words are tightly controlled. “But I’m telling you the truth.”

“You keep sayin’ that–”

She finally looks at him and he sees angry tears gleaming in her eyes. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ellie–I believe you, kiddo, I just–I wasn’t there an’-you won’t…you won’t talk about it.”

At that, she looks away again. “Because I don’t need to.”

“Baby–”

“He didn’t fucking rape me, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

He flinches, the words landing like a slap. A single tear escapes her lash line, making a wet track down her cheek.

“He tried. He tried and he didn’t–he didn’t get that far. Because I bashed his fucking skull in before he could get his fucking pants off.”

Some dim part of him thinks he should feel relieved, but that’s impossible when her face crumples. He goes to her because he can’t do anything else, sits on the edge of the bed, hand twitching in a vain effort to keep himself from reaching for her.

“Happy now?” she grits out, jaw set. 

“No,” he breathes. “I could never be happy about that.”

She’s fully panicking now. Every breath sounds high and pitchy, like she’s sucking air through a straw.

“He’s gone, baby. He’s…it’s done. It’s over, you don’t ever have to go back, okay?”

A shuddering hiccup and she lifts her eyes to his. She nods tightly, tremors rippling across her shoulders as she tries to get her breathing under control.

“It’s over,” he repeats, hoping he sounds more certain than he feels. “You’re safe.”

Another jerky nod.

“And…I’m sorry,” he rasps. He wipes at his face in frustration, surprised when his hand comes back wet.

“Wasn’t your fault,” she mutters thickly.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry that–I shoulda been there, couldn’t–couldn’t help–”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers, eyes red but dry. “Doesn’t change anything…right?”

Shame swirls in his gut. She may be right, but the old saws hound him anyway. It’s not enough, this is your fault, you’re failing her, you were always going to fail her. He tentatively reaches out and puts a hand on her knee, hopeful when she doesn’t flinch or pull away.

“I shoulda believed you. I’m sorry.”

Her jaw ticks at that, and she chews on her lip ‘til it’s red and raw. She’s rocking slightly, probably not even aware she’s doing it. She’s going away, he realizes, withdrawing again.

“Ellie?”

He squeezes her knee gently, trying to bring her back.

“C’mon, kiddo, you gotta…you gotta talk to me. You need to–it’s gotta come out. The only way this gets better is if you let it out, and–”

“I can’t,” she whispers, almost a whine, ducking her head. “I know I have to, but I just–I can’t–okay? Not yet. Please…don’t make me.”

Please don’t make me.

His heart cracks and splinters in his chest. She sounds so small, so exhausted. How many times has she been forced, coerced, manipulated by people who claimed to care for her? 

Taking a chance, he clasps one of her hands, cold fingers white as porcelain. He tugs gently, asking a silent question, and she folds forward, pressing herself into his side until he can wrap an arm around her shoulders. He does his best to bundle her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Alright. You don’t have to,” he whispers into her hair. “Don’t have to do anythin’ right now, okay? Nothin’ you don’t want.”

She nods, gives a tiny hiccup that might be a sob. It’s a long time before she pulls away, wiping a sleeve over her eyes, looking up at him with her jaw set.

“Tell them they can do the dumb test,” she sniffs. “But I’m not fucking pregnant.”

~*~

“No pregnancy. Her iron and RBCs are low,” the nurse says with finality.

“Told you, fuckers,” Ellie mutters, obviously feeling well enough to snark, although the dark circles under her eyes are even more pronounced than before.

“How the hell did you miss that?” Marlene asks.

The nurse scowls. “Dr. Anderson gets reports with all the lab work, he said nothing to indicate the anemia was a problem.”

“So you’re tellin’ me she’s anemic and your brilliant doctor didn’t think to mention it?” Joel cuts in. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you people–”

“Enough,” Marlene snaps, looking back and forth between them, then settles her gaze on the nurse. “What’s the treatment plan?”

“She needs to eat, rest, keep up her strength. Pause the testing until she’s back in healthy range.”

“How long?”

“I can’t say,” the nurse sighs. “If we can find some supplements, we might be able to speed up the process…but the best way is for her to eat.”

And so, two days later, it’s standoff over dinner.

“I can’t.”

“You have to,” Marlene says cooly. “The only way this works is if you keep up your strength, and the only way for you to stay strong is to eat. We’re using precious rations to keep you fed and your blood counts are low.”

Ellie hunches over her half-full tray of food while Marlene hovers. She’s eaten a few bites of vegetables and a piece of bread, but large chunks of venison remain on the tray. He knows why it turns her stomach, why she sends back her trays without touching the stuff.

But he also watched her pass out two days ago.

“I can’t keep it down, it doesn’t fucking work ,” she hisses.

“Come on, Ellie,” Marlene murmurs. “You owe it to us to try.”

“I am trying,” she says. “But my fucking stomach hurts.”

Marlene sighs. “Just…one bite. Try. Please.”

Ellie lets out a disgusted groan, but she picks up a piece of meat with her fork, grimacing as she puts it in her mouth. She chews and her jaw works and works because the stuff is mostly gristle and it’s cooked to the consistency of leather–Joel struggled to choke down his smaller portion, too. He watches her throat bob in a swallow.

Then she’s gagging, choking, and the contents of her stomach–the venison and everything else along with it–are covering the floor next to her bed. She gags and gags, her face red, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Marlene huffs under her breath and that’s the last fucking straw.

“Outside,” Joel snaps, making for the door without waiting for her to answer. When they’re out in the hall, he faces her, snarling. “You don’t talk to her like that.” 

“She needs to eat.”

“She can’t do venison.”

“She’ll have to suck it up,” Marlene says flatly. “Her iron is low and venison is the best source we have at this point–”

“That girl,” he jabs his finger at the window behind her, “is putting her whole fuckin’ life on the line for you. So you can figure out how to get her the stuff she needs without forcin’ it down her fuckin’ throat.”

Her jaw clenches, she blows a hard breath out her nose. 

“Fine,” she snaps. “I’ll send a scavenging party out for supplements. God knows how good they’ll be, but–”

“Whatever you gotta do, I don’t give a shit. But don’t you ever–e ver– talk to her like that again,” he says. “She ain’t your puppet.”

She folds her arms, clicking her tongue. “Heard.”

He nods and goes back in, finds Ellie on the floor, attempting to wipe up the vomit. He kneels and gently takes the cloth from her hands to finish the job.

“It’s my mess. I can get it,” Ellie hiccups, cheeks red. He can see her hands shaking as she sits back on her knees.

“Not your fault,” he says. “You can’t eat the meat, you can’t eat it. S’their problem, not yours.”

She sniffs and wipes at her face with her sleeve.

“You brushed your teeth yet?” he asks, standing with a suppressed groan and tossing the soiled towel on the floor outside their room. Let the Fireflies deal with it. “Go on. You’ll feel better if you do.”

Ellie goes to the bathroom and closes the door. He hears the water running. When she returns, her face is damp, cheeks blotchy, eyes red-rimmed. She climbs back into bed still looking defeated.

“I hate to admit it, but Marlene’s right about one thing,” he murmurs. “You gotta eat, kid.”

“I’m trying, asshole,” she spits, chin trembling. “I’m trying but…it’s all…stupid deer meat and I can’t–I can’t. After–”

“Alright,” he soothes, rubbing her back. “I know. Marlene’s gonna try to find…pills or somethin’.”

Her face falls. “That’ll take too long.”

“Hey,” he says, hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “They’re on your schedule, not the other way around, right?”

She rolls her eyes but nods, teary.

“K. Why don’t you get back in bed and get some rest. We’ll figure it out.”

For once, she doesn’t argue. Part of him wishes she would.

Ellie is sleeping soundly when Marlene comes back later that night. They take the conversation to the hallway, speaking in low voices so as not to wake her.

“Dr. Anderson wants to do a blood transfusion,” she says. “It’ll work faster than any supplements we’d be able to find.”

“S’it safe?”

“No riskier than giving her expired iron pills or letting her stay anemic,” she says.

“An’ you got everythin’ for that?”

“Well, the Red Cross isn’t exactly operational,” she says drily. “We need to find someone with a matching blood type. My staff are being typed as we speak.”

Joel grimaces. “I’m a universal donor. Test mine. If it’ll help her…”

He trails off, glancing through the window where Ellie is still curled up in bed.

“You sure? You’re clean?”

He glares at her.

“Hey, we both know the QZ life wasn’t exactly squeaky,” she says. “But…I’m not going to turn it down if you’re willing. I’ll send the nurse in to get a blood sample so we can screen you.”

~*~

Screened and typed and confirmed a match, Joel finds himself laid up in bed with a needle in his arm a few days later.

“This is sick, dude,” Ellie says, lounging in her bed, watching intently as his blood fills the pint-sized holding bag at his side. Her fascination remains unnerving–especially now that it’s directed at him.

“Don’t you have somethin’ to do?”

“I am doing something, I’m resting like you said,” she says, rolling over to dangle her head off the side of the bed. Then she perks up. “Oh, shit! I know!”

She goes to her bag on the floor and pulls out her pun book, flipping through the pages.

“Aha,” he mutters. “Will Livingston strikes again.”

“Hey, Joel,” she says, grinning. “I know a couple of vampire puns…but they all suck. Get it? They suck? ‘Cause it’s a vampire.”

“I got it,” he mutters, trying and failing to hold back a smile. It’s been weeks since she’s joked around with him like this, weeks since they’ve been able to have more than short, stilted conversations that usually end with her staring off into space.

“Maybe don’t ‘B negative’ about it, then.”

That earns her a groan.

“Ooh, ooh wait! I got a better one–”

“Highly doubt that,” he drawls, but he’s full-on smiling now.

“I wanted to write a blood pun, but it was all ‘in vein’!”

“That’s terrible. Negative six.”

“You can’t do negative numbers, dude,” she says, flopping back down on the bed with her book.

“Can for that joke.”

She snorts. “I’m gonna age, like, fifty years with your old man blood.”

“Better than passin’ out in the fuckin’ hall,” he says pointedly.

“I guess,” she sighs. “Kinda cool you’re, like, a walking blood supply.”

“Don’t get any ideas. It ain’t an infinite supply. You still gotta eat.”

“I just figured with the…y’know,” she says quietly, gesturing to his stomach, where the scar on his abdomen still pulls a little when he stands too quickly. “You lost a lot of blood…before.”

“Still doin’ better than you in the iron department.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she hums, thinking, then stretches out with a sigh. “Hey, Joel,” she murmurs, resting her head on her pillow. She blinks sleepily, probably ready for another nap. God, he hopes like hell this transfusion does what it’s supposed to. “Once they do the transfusion thing…does that make us blood relatives?”

“This one of your jokes?”

“No,” she yawns. “S’just funny, when they say ‘blood relation’, they don't mean you share actual blood. Except…we will, kinda.”

“Yeah, I guess we will.”

“S’pretty cool,” she whispers.

“Uh-huh. You’re s’posed to be resting,” he says, watching with fond exasperation as she struggles to keep her eyes open.

She frowns and wrinkles her nose and suddenly looks five years younger, sporting the kind of pout he remembers seeing on Sarah’s face when she was overtired and fighting sleep. “M’not tired.”

“Nice to meet you, Not Tired. I’m Joel,” he says drily. “Go to sleep, kid. I’ll wake you up when I’m done being bled dry over here.”

She rolls her eyes and grumbles something he can’t quite hear– something something show you bled dry, old man– but she turns over with a huff. She’s fast asleep and snoring before the donation bag is full.

[crystallizedday]

Mkay, so I just woke up & I feel like spitting some facts today while I’m still in my BATDR hyperfix, especially since I’m pretty sure not a lot of people have this idea as well & I wanna get it out there somehow.

So…

The Ink Demon is like… written SO fucking well in this game, or at least as I interpret it.

& I figured this shit out like GRADUALLY.

The first tid bit that hit me like a fucking truck was how CANONICALLY the Ink Demon is in DESPERATE need of any kind of love and affection. While it’s hinted at a little bit in the games, the smoking gun comes from the VOICE ACTOR FOR INKY HIMSELF Sean Crisden.

Yes, I looked through his entire Twitter to find this again just to prove I’m not insane.

Like… even if Sean isn’t caught up entirely on the lore, there’s no reason he would say this only knowing the Ink Demon through his lines. After all, my guy has to be told about the character to voice him, so for him to address this pretty much makes it as close to being confirmed officially as we can.

The second thing that hit me like a truck was the YouTuber Pastra’s review video on the game, where he details how the Ink Demon’s mocking in the last chapter is towards HIMSELF, not Audrey, & he’s just projecting all HIS shit onto her.

Not even I caught this, since I always thought Inky was right about the “your life is a lie” thing due to her not being fully human.

But then Pastra emphasized the “mistake” bit. Audrey wasn’t a mistake, far from it. The Ink Demon, BENDY, was. HE was a mistake, born solely to be a living mascot to entertain, & when he came out WRONG, he was locked away, neglected, abandoned by the man who created him.

So he looks at Audrey, someone who was made by the same man who made him, someone who was treated so much better because of how she came out “perfect”, & tries to bring her down on the same level as he is by berating her.

& while this is stretching a bit, him comforting her at the end feels a bit like he’s trying to comfort himself, tricking himself to believe there is SOMEONE like him, someone who was ABANDONED & lied to, & thus giving Audrey the opportunity to live so he can indulge in that comfort.

It’s a BIG stretch, but god DAMN is it a gut puncher!

Like I’m sure he also did it to manipulate her & shit, but like… he can have MORE than one reason to do shit, & if he really did try to comfort himself like that, if that really is true… then I’m gonna fucking sob, man.

BUT THAT IS NOT FUCKING ALL!!

Cause I got ONE MORE mind blower I had, mainly (but not entirely) on my own after that one!!

& it has to do with Baby Bendy.

A LOT of people think Inky got his mind split in two when he was imprisoned as Baby Bendy due to how different he acts around Audrey.

But I beg to differ.

I think the Ink Demon is ABSOLUTELY still conscious & in control as Baby Bendy. He just couldn’t do shit to anyone before Audrey came about & accidentally freed him (cause I am ALSO subscribed to that theory Pastra addressed in his video), so he just minded his own business.

Perhaps his new emotional responses spoken of in the Keepers’ tapes come from him being more powerless & vulnerable where the only thing he COULD do was cry.

& the reason he acts so friendly towards Audrey once she meets up with him near the city? Because she was kind to him, she actually gave a shit about him. She apologized to him about hurting him & wanted to take care of him.

NEVER in Inky’s life has he EVER had someone genuinely care about him & his well being, something he always wanted from ANYONE but never got. So when he finally has that opportunity with Audrey, he jumps to it, going along with it, even if he desperately didn’t want to visit the Gent labs again.

More evidence of this is detailed in a post by @jupiter-jellies titled “Ink Demon VS Vesty” which I really like (I apologize for the tag, I don’t know if there’s an easier option to showcase the post itself, but I still wanna credit you nonetheless) as it makes sense of the sequences of events that happen from when Baby Bendy first joins your party to when he disappears & the Ink Demon comes to stop you from entering the Keepers’ area. Seriously, that shit blew my mind when I read it cause it explains WHY Baby Bendy went missing & why the Ink Demon would try to stop Audrey from going THERE in particular.

It just makes sense that the Ink Demon was still HIMSELF in both forms, he just acts differently to compensate for his lack of powers & to be given the love & affection he always wanted.

… But then it gets sad.

Cause the more I thought about it, the more fucked up it became. The ONLY time the Ink Demon EVER got someone to reach out to him & make him feel cared for… is when he’s in a “perfect” form. Only when he was cute & innocent & TRAPPED against his WILL could he be EVER loved, that if only he came out RIGHT in the first place, then he would DESERVE all the love that Audrey offers him.

If Joey & the others neglecting & abusing him when he came out wrong when he was JUST created didn’t solidify this idea in his head, Audrey treating him like a friend in his “perfect” form & an enemy in his true form DEFINITELY sealed the deal to him.

& it only gets worse.

I was re-listening to Joey talking to Audrey at the tail-end of the game to try & snap her out of the dark mindset Inky put her in when I realized something.

The Ink Demon was RIGHT THERE, listening to his abuser talk directly to AUDREY the ENTIRE TIME, telling her how she was loved & how she’s not this monster, that she was his pride & joy, his ONLY success…

& that PISSES Inky off.

In INKY’s point of view, only after Joey had a creation that WASN’T an abomination did he suddenly have a change of heart, that all it took was to get something he always wanted to be a better person as he completely ignores his biggest mistake that was RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.

That… has GOT to sting, really bad, to feel abandoned AGAIN in favor of the “better sibling” that Audrey was.

I have a feeling that he didn’t crush Joey SOLELY so he couldn’t get through to Audrey. I think he also did it because he couldn’t take LISTENING to him talk like this anymore, to be reminded that he was a failure that didn’t deserve the love that Audrey got, & lashed out to shut Joey up.

This is ALL very headcanon-y, but… it really does paint the Ink Demon in a more complex & tragic light.

The Ink Demon was NEVER just a mindless monster that killed whatever it wanted on sight. He was capable of emotion, & he could’ve potentially been capable of being something so much more if only he got the proper care & reassurance he DESPERATELY needed.

& GOD I love his character for it, he’s my favorite character in the game BY FAR because of this, GOD I hope this is canon so I can give massive props to the writers for this game!!

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 20: Robotics

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Mikey moans as he wakes with a headache. His nose is stuffed up and his limbs are plagued by a dull ache. Donnie is by his side in an instant, smiling at him as he presses a glass of water to his lips, forcing him to hydrate.

"Good morning, Angelo," he says.

Angelo? His name is Mikey...

"How are you feeling?"

Mikey groans wordlessly at him.

"You ready for some breakfast?"

"Mikey doesn't get out of bed today," he announces grumpily, pressing his face deeper into the pillow.

Donnie rubs his cranium, pressing his palm against Mikey's forehead as he checks for any remaining fever.

"Hmm. I guess you're right, you won't be getting out of bed today," Donnie states, placing the cup on a side table and turning the lights off. "You get some more rest and join us whenever you're ready, okay?"

Mikey nods with a yawn, shimmying deeper under the blankets and purring with contentment.

"Leo or Raph will be in with your memory medication from Draxum. But other than that, I guess nothing eventful or interesting will be happening today," Donnie says as he walks out of Mikey's room.

.

.

.

Professor Honeycutt is sitting in his lab office, silently working on a new droid design. This one is different from the other machines he's been forced to build while employed here. All the other designs were weapons, or used to create chaos, or made to hurt the experiments (with one in particular in mind). But this one will be a sentry guard. A protector. SENTRY AUTOMATIC LIFESAVER. He's nicknamed it 'SAL' for now.

The body of the machine is finished for the most part. He's still working on the arms, trying to create a spring mechanism that can cause them to stretch to extreme lengths without breaking. He'd also like to add the same kind of metallic-elastic springs to the legs, even though he's already finished with those. But hey, he doesn't mind working on them again! Anything to avoid the real thing that's stumping him.

Honeycutt is struggling with the robot's AI, specifically its moral center and higher reasoning. He never got around to finishing the moral center for the last AI he built, and now she's starting to unnerve him. He can program the three laws of robotics, but he knows that sometimes you need to make a decision that disregards logic. He's seen movies. They may be inaccurate, but he'd have to agree with a few of the points they make.

So he's procrastinating on the brain. Well, there is a brain in the head, but it doesn't have any information in it, apart from some basic codes for movement and functions.

Most days, Zayton doesn't even know why he's here. He joined the TCRI for the funding, plain and simple. The cause sounded good, and they would help pay for all his robotics and engineering. He had all the money and freedom he could ever want to 'play with his toys'. What could be better? He should have known it was too good to be true. After a month of getting to build whatever he wanted in a secret bunker off the coast of Buffalo, he was called in to help with some work in NYC. And now... he's stuck doing this. Building ice blasters and dart guns and training robots that fight you to the death.

He's a man of peace.

But lately, he's been confusing 'peace' with 'staying out of it'.

Honeycutt's phone buzzes. It's probably another order from Timothy, or Chaplin wants help with the A.LP.H.A. device, or something just as irritating and dangerous.

"Hello, this is Professor Zayton Honeycutt speaking."

"Hey, doc, it's Bishop."

Honeycutt drops his tools and quiets his voice.

"Ah, John. H-how nice to hear from you again... how are the plans for your -- ahem, 'mother's recovery'?"

The two of them have come up with a special code to talk about Mikey without attracting attention.

"We still don't have any information about her condition. But I think she's still with her 'extended family'."

Mikey is still hidden in the sewers with the other mutants like him.

"Have the doctors found anything?"

"Not to my knowledge. But I heard that they did an 'impromptu check-up', and I should be hearing more about that later."

They sent drones into the sewer tunnels. As to be expected.

"When do you suppose that they'll tell you the details of that check-up?"

"No idea. I get the feeling that I'll have to make some calls to a few nurses..."

"Well, if it helps, I could ask around."

Bishop's voice goes quiet.

"...Doc, I don't know if that's wise..."

"Why not? I built those dro-- ahem, I mean, I know a few nurses in the clinic. I could get some answers for you."

The line stays silent for a moment before Bishop answers.

"...Okay, Doc. Just... be careful."

"Of course!" Honeycutt chuckles nervously. "Don't even worry. But, eh, speaking of your mother, I was wondering how the 'quilt' she's sewing is coming along?"

The 'quilt' is code for their side project. Most of the experiments and actions of the scientists here are unsanctioned and illegal, covered up under all the red tape and paperwork and made to look as though they are for the 'greater good'. Bishop and Honeycutt have been working to find evidence of all the mutations and genetic experiments and legal workarounds that they've done here.

"I've been getting some more 'thread' for her."

Thread = Paper trails.

"Does she need any 'fabrics'? I know she was looking for some nice patterns, last time we spoke."

Photographic evidence of the mutated animals or krang parasites.

"She could use some later. But for now, she's worried that she might be overspending."

Bishop is afraid that they've attracted attention, he wants Honeycutt to lay low.

"Okay then. Tell her I said hello."

"Will do. And Doc? Really, be careful. I don't want you getting sick like my mother."

"...I thank you for the concern, John. It's very decent of you. But I should be fine. I'll look into the... ahem, check-up results for you."

"Thanks. I'll be in touch."

The call ends.

Honeycutt exhales loudly, hoping that by the time all the used air in his lungs escapes him, he'll have also rid himself of the stress that lingers in him.

It doesn't.

Honeycutt lets S.A.L. rest on his desk. He stretches, cracking his spine and wrists before he walks out of his private workshop and into the halls. He could use an extra cup of coffee. He knows that he should try sleeping for once, but he can't really waste time right now. He has so much work to do, and now that Bishop recruited him he's busier than ever. It's a worthy cause and a noble sacrifice that he's more than willing to make.

Honeycutt walks through the halls, flinching at every door that opens and hurrying along his way. Every scientist that greets him with a wave or conversation starter, he simply hustles by them with a nod. He's never felt comfortable in this complex before, but now he's constantly unnerved.

Honeycutt shuffles into the elevator, down to the cafeteria to get a quick cup of joe, and back up to the security room. He considers stopping at the animal sections to see if he can grab any blood samples or photographic evidence... but Bishop is concerned, and the man has a surprising track record when it comes to following his gut. Maybe later... if he can find an excuse. A technical professor suddenly interested in genetics and bloodwork? Suspicious... but, maybe he can come up with some link between his work and the genetic studies... a robot that tracks DNA? Perfect! Only issue would be whether or not they'd buy it. A few might. But the big wigs in charge would ask questions. And Timothy and Chaplin might be against it, saying that none of the experiments can keep up against his tech thus far, so making a robot that advanced would be fruitless... he'll have to think of something else...

Prof. Honeycutt arrives at the security room, takes a quick swig of his black coffee for good measure, and then opens the door.

"Ms. Campbell," he greets flatly. "How are things?"

"Events are transpiring at a typical function and rate," she responds with a similar tone. "And I am working at full capacity, if that was what you were asking about."

"Thank you for the update," he says, moving beside her to watch the cameras. "How's the search for the escapee?"

"Still underway, but halted for the time being. Our drones discovered some odd wreckage in the tunnels, what looks like the ruins of someone's living quarters."

"Someone living in the sewers?" Honeycutt asks, feigning surprise.

"I detect sarcasm, unless I am mistaken," Ms. Campbell says, turning to look at him. "You knew beforehand about this?"

"Word gets around," he replies nervously. "I just wanted to know if it was true that there was something there. I'd heard that we were sending in drones -- and you know New York gossip, everyone thinks that there's some mysterious society of monsters living underneath us. And what with those mutants we've seen... I figured that perhaps one of them had made a shelter down there, possibly even our own little Mikey!"

Honeycutt realises that he's been prattling. It's a nervous trait. Ms. Campbell knows that. She can detect all sorts of tics and traits and habits and quirks. She has an incredible poker face, and she is a living lie detector.

She watches him, eyes analyzing every bead of sweat he creates.

"You are nervous."

"Q-quite so," he chuckles. "I'm just... concerned for Mikey."

That answer seems to satiate Ms. Campbell... for the moment. She turns around and starts to type something on the keyboard, and one of the screens plays glitchy feedback from a drone.

"Perhaps this will put you at ease, father," she says. "We found him."

Honeycutt watches in shock as a drone flies around the wreckage of a large opening in a sewer, complete with burst pipes, crumbled archways, and even broken down arcade games, though glory knows where those came from. On the walls are smeared paintings and spraypaint, words like 'cowabunga' and 'turtle power!' are scrawled across the stonework along with smiley faces, drawings of interesting action heroes and poses, and... what looks like portraits of turtles dressed as superheroes or ninjas. The drone flies through after looking around, hurrying down a corridor. After a several minutes of endless catacombs and passageways, it comes up to a light where the tunnels meet an abandoned section of the subways. The drone continues following a glow that leads to a secret hidden entrance. The drone presses itself up against the wall, waiting. After a few minutes, someone emerges from the door, peeking around. It's not Mikey, but...

"Is... is that...?"

"Another mutant creature like the escaped experiment, yes."

The creature looks down the halls nervously, before looking up behind him and shouting in fright as something dark green with yellow spots drops down on top of him. A flash of blue and the two vanish completely.

"What was that?!" Honeycutt yells, almost spilling his coffee as he moves closer to the video feed.

"Undetermined. But there have been reports of vigilantes that 'pop in and out' of crime scenes, fighting against the mutant outbreak. It is possible that he is one of said vigilantes," Ms. Campbell says. "And that is not all..."

Ms. Campbell speeds the playback to a moment several minutes later, when a human boy comes out of the entrance searching for something. He sees the drone and shouts, activating a high-tech chainsaw device and swings it at the drone, slashing it off the wall and shattering it completely.

"That was a human," Honeycutt says with hushed astonishment.

Bishop said that Mikey was with his 'family', so he sort of knew about the other mutants... but that was a human kid!

"I have been trying to run facial recognition on him to no avail," Ms. Campbell says. "He seems to have no identity."

In her voice, there is a twinge of disappointment, or rather, irritation with the failure. It shouldn't surprise him, he made her with the intention of resembling human in almost every aspect, so her exercise of emotions is not unprecedented. But the attitude, the dark personality lingering under the fake skin and steel grey eyes... that frightens him. Her AI was never completed, at least not in the ways he wanted. But she seems to be growing, evolving, learning. He didn't put that in there.

"Have... have you sent any more drones?" he asks, swallowing the nervous pit in his stomach every time he's with Ms. Campbell.

"Yes. But there seems to be some kind of electromagnetic field surrounding the area now, and any drone that crosses the threshold deactivates and short-circuits."

"Do we know why?"

"They mutants must be protecting their habitat," she states, going back to the original security footage. "But now that we know where they are, it is only a matter of time before we can discover more about their numbers and motives."

Honeycutt watches the screens at the bottom of the video stack, the ones with live drone feed. Three new devices are being sent to the previous drone's last known location. They fly up until a certain point before the feed warps into static and the drones crash, their live recordings die out with a high-pitched whine and crackle.

"I suppose I should contact Dr. Chaplin to make a new plan for the onset for the escaped experiment... Unless you have some theories, father?"

She still calls him father. All his creations tend to do that, he's noticed. But he's not sure how to feel about her calling him that. It feels eerie that she does, but the day she stops referring to him as such will be even scarier.

"I... couldn't say... p-perhaps I could create a device to counter the firewall?" he suggests. "Or maybe we could--"

The screens suddenly all glitch in unison, flashing quickly before turning a single shade of purple. Each monitor works in perfect harmony to create a large, singular image.

Professor Honeycutt steps back in shock. Ms. Campbell tilts her head slightly.

A series of words appear on the screen.

LEAVE US ALONE.

LEAVE US ALONE.

LEAVE US ALONE.

"Ominous," Ms. Campbell states calmly. "And quite interesting. I cannot say that the EPF has ever had any hackers before..."

The screens go dead, the room engulfed in darkness.

Before Honeycutt can say anything, a soft grey pixely static shows up on the screens, brightening the room again in time. The camera feeds return -- save for the drones, which still give no output nor input.

"I would say those vigilante mutants could be classified as hostile, wouldn't you agree?" Ms. Campbell says, turning to Honeycutt.

"Er, um, perhaps," he says nervously, loosening his shirt collar. "But you know me, I prefer to play the Switzerland of these mutant affairs. I'd rather stay out of it. I might suggest we do the same with these drones spies --"

"Why?" she asks, suspicion in her voice.

"Well, see... these mutants see us as an invading force. When an animal believes its habitat to be encroached upon, it will go to great lengths to defend it. These mutants may be doing the same thing, which could end badly for us..."

Ms. Campbell thinks it over.

"They have already fled one habitat," she responds. "So, in your scientific understanding, would they choose fight or flight over this new habitat they've created?"

"I-I'm not sure, animal science is not my area of expertise, but --" he swallows. "-- b-but I would assume that they would prefer to keep their new abode. Considering the lengths they've gone to thus far, they will not give it up easily."

"Hmm. Then this shall be a challenge, eh, father?"

Ms. Campbell smiles cruely.

He's never seen her do that.

"Q-q-quite so," he mumbles as he stumbles out of the room. "I should head back to work now... s-see you later, Ms. Campbell..."

His hand shakes, splashing the coffee in his cup. He's had enough of this for one day... he needs to call Bishop.

Honeycutt may not have the gut instincts that Bishop does, but something is telling him that things are about to get a lot more dangerous...

Prev || Next

[littlefanficprincess]

Found your pretty face

"Oneshot"

Pair: Red leader/Tord x reader

Song: Panic room by Au/ra

Part 5 (Finale)

(A/n): I am just adding my own art since I ran out of gifs

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

"The base is under attack!"

A voice yells, an alarm following after it. The mood suddenly changes, panic entering (Y/n)'s brain.

Tord turns to her with a stern expression "Head to the safe room, immediately" He commands her, looking her in the eyes.

He didn't say much after that, rushing out of the room. (Y/n) could hear is rapid footsteps becoming quieter.

'Right, safe room. Just go to the safe room...' The (h/c)nette's face becomes pale, when realising. 'I don't know where the safe room is'

Opening the door, (Y/n) peaks out of it. Her (e/c) eyes scan the hallway, finding it empty. "Okay, so no enemy soldiers, but also no red army soldiers that can show me the way" she mutters.

She strolls through the hallway, cautiously looking around. Her (e/c) eyes notice a shadow on the wall, but it quickly moves out of her sight. She runs after it, hearing the person match their tempo.

Now knowing that they were running from her, she calls out "Hey, stop right there!" She reaches for her gun, trying to catch up to them.

Finally, she find them standing infront of the lab. Their back was turned to her, their big black coat hiding their appearance. Their figure was tall and a bit scruffy.

They turn around to reveal a man with messy brown hair with a unshaved beard. They hold up a regular gun towards (Y/n), before it transforms into something more futuristic.

Her eyes looks at his hair, before looking down at the green hoodie underneath his coat "Edd..?" She mumbles with a shocked expression.

Edd's brown eyes widen, regonises the voice. He slowly lowers the gun as his eyebrows furrow "(Y/n)?"

There was a silence between the two, both shocked to see eachother at a red army base. Edd looked like a homeless man, and (Y/n) was in a red army uniform.

His brown eyes shift over to the left, before they widen. "(Y/n), look out–!" was the only thing he could tell. A bullet flies through the air, coming right for the girl. In a split second, it hits her Pinkie finger and blow it off her hand.

(Y/n) screams agony as she crouches down on the ground, holding her bleeding hand. It felt like hand was aflame, eyes prick in the corner of her eyes.

Looking from the hurt soldier, back to door and then back, Edd thinks between his options. He opens the door and goes in, closing the door behind. A regretful expression fades on his face as he reaches towards a case that stood at the end of the room.

Betrayed, (Y/n) looks heart broken as Edd dissapeared from her sight. She hears Tom's voice, seeming not too far. "These guys are weak, how did they even get here" It sounded like he was getting closer, another person with him.

"(Y/n)! Are you okay?" Matt's voice call out, running towards his old friend. He crouches next to her, checking on her.

"Edd, he went in there" (Y/n) mumbles, pointing shakingly with her injured hand at the door. She was still shocked by the blow, trying her best to calm her breathing.

Tom approaches the door, opening it. The room was isolated, a case in it was open and empty. "He took the time machine" Tom conclude, seeming to very annoyed. "Matt, take her to the health station. I'm going to get another time machine, Edd is going back to kill himself"

The ginger was surprised by Tom's explanation. He nods and helps (Y/n) off the floor. He felt bad, seeing her so shaken up. He walks her to the health station, being greeted by a nurse.

She sets (Y/n) down on a bed, walking to get some bandage. Matt couldn't stay, as he had to follow Tom to another time machine. The girl was alone, watching as the nurse wrapped her hand in bandage. She was happy she didn't get worse.

There was a knock on the door, it sounded like metal hitting the wood. The door handel was pushed down and the door opens, revealing Red Leader. His single looks over to the nurse and then over to (Y/n), he clears his throat "Mrs. Soro, can you give us some privacy?"

The nurse give the quick bow, walking out the door. There was a silence after she left. (Y/n) looks up at him, waiting for him to say something.

Tord let's out a sigh, before taking a seat next to her. He grabs her now four fingered hand, his thumb softly stroking it. His eyebrows furrow as he observes the spot where your Pinkie used to be. "I should've gone with you, you wouldn't have ended up like this" He mutters, his heart aching.

"It's fine, it was out of your control. I'm happy that I didn't get shot anywhere vital" A small smile appears on (Y/n)'s face, her gaze was slightly turned down.

Tord's mechanic hand takes ahold of her jaw, pushing it up to meet his gaze "I can't just watch you get hurt, you mean too much to me"

His words make the girl widen her (e/c), looking shocked at him. When she first met him after all these years, he was cold. But now, he felt sincere, like a different person. She didn't notice that the space between them became smaller.

His lips met her, (Y/n) notes how surprisingly soft his lips. She begins to kiss him back, placing her none injured hand on his shoulders. It felt kinda like a reward, after all they went through. Their moment of peace.

They part for air, looking at eachother, his red mechanic thumb brushes over her lower lip "You'll be on my side for now on, I promise you won't be hurt again.

┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓

Timeskip

┗━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┛

Tom walks through a door, holding a file. He approaches a desk, placing the file on it "Here is the file you requested for, (Y/n)"

The one sitting at the desk grins "That's not what you're supposed to call me". She leans on her hand, where a mechanical pinkie attached to it.

"I am not going to call you that"

"Who is higher position here, hm?"

Tom sighs, pinched the bride of his nose "Yes, Crimson general"

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Cold

Selina is a simple woman. She likes pretty gems and a glass of merlot at the end of a long day. She’s never tried to play hero, and she’s never cared much for complicated relationships. But Batman seems intent on saddling her with everything she’s never wanted. Part of her wants to boycott anything vaguely Bat-themed. But the other part of her is pretty sure that only a monster would leave a kid to freeze to death.

---

Selina isn’t sure how she got here. Yes, she did take her bike. That’s the way that she got to STAR Labs’ Gotham branch. But that certainly isn’t how she found herself dodging blasts from an experimental frost gun that she’d been contracted to steal. And that’s definitely not how she found herself fighting alongside Batman.

So much for an easy smash and grab.

“Stand down, Catwoman,” Dr. Fries warns, lowering the gun to shoot her a sympathetic grimace. “My issue isn’t with you.”

“I think it is,” Selina taunts, stalking closer. “That gun isn’t yours. I want it back.”

The doctor huffs. “Excuse me? It’s a cold-based weapon. I have a monopoly over those. You know that.”

Selina has to jerk to the left to avoid a frostbitten ear. “Oh? What about Captain Cold?”

“Different city. Doesn’t count.”

“Stay out of this, Catwoman,” comes the unmistakable rumble of the Dark Knight.

Ah. Just what she needs. One more man telling her to go home.

Well, her employer is certainly paying enough. She isn’t going home without that gun.

“And let you have all the fun?” she purrs, snagging Mr. Freeze’s arm with her whip. But he slashes through it and shoots at her face. She just barely dodges the blast of ice.

There’s a growl. Another barbed wire-gargling grunt from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Miserable. “Robin. Now.”

And the ceiling erupts in a series of controlled explosions.

Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.

Clouds of dust plume in a circle above Mr. Freeze’s head. The cement groans before a massive chunk of ceiling crumbles down, burying the mad scientist.

Batman takes a moment to catch Selina’s gaze. “It’s over. Go home.” And then he stalks off to dig Mr. Freeze out of the rubble.

But of course, Selina has no intention of leaving. Not without the gun. The gem that powers it - pure glacialis lazuli - is worth a small fortune. Selina will not let this night be a waste.

“Did we get ‘im, Batman?” a tiny voice pipes from above.

Batman grunts.

The boy is undeterred, flipping through the new hole in the ceiling and landing on top of the cement pile. He’s all grins, kicking the loose rocks aside. “I’ve always preferred crushed ice.”

“Hush,” Batman says, though there’s no heat in his voice. He’s simply focused on the task at hand. He begins picking through the rubble. “Dr. Fries?”

“H-here,” the rogue groans. A rubber glove reaches out from within the pile. But before Batman can grab it, Mr. Freeze’s hand blindly finds Robin’s vest, pulls him in, and-

Hiss-crack.

The hand releases, Robin stumbles back, and Batman rushes forward, ripping the gun from Freeze’s hidden grip.

“Cold, Batman?” The voice is smug, even buried under a ton of cement.

“You missed me, Fries,” Batman growls, and suddenly he’s pulling the mad doctor out with more strength than any normal man should have. Helmetless, Mr. Freeze is helpless as Batman slams his fist into the scientist’s jaw.

But Selina isn’t paying attention to them anymore. She’s running - sprinting - as she watches the little boy fall from the rubble in slow-motion. It’s a miracle that she catches him before he can shatter against the cracked tile.

“H-help,” the boy gasps, lips blue and eyes panicked.

“BATMAN!” Selina screams, but whatever the vigilante is doing, he finds it more important than the sidekick - the child - growing cold in Selina’s arms.

Selina’s own growl rumbles in her chest. She wraps the boy’s cape around him and gathers him in her arms. She needs to get him somewhere warm. Now. There’s no time to wait for Batman.

Selina rushes outside. It’s no warmer out here than it was inside - not in a New Jersey winter - but she has a plan. A… half-plan. And that will have to do for now.

“Hang on,” she murmurs to the shivering bundle in her arms. “Just hang on.”

Selina’s bike is just outside the facility, but it’s no good to her. She can’t ride and carry the boy at the same time. The Batmobile should be out here too, but there’s no sign of it. But there are other options.

Heart thudding against her ribs, the cat burglar runs to the road. It’s two AM, so most reasonable people are asleep, but the bars haven’t quite closed down yet. The lights are still on across the street at O’Malley’s. More importantly, however, its lot still has quite a few cars in it.

Selina hugs the boy closer to her, darting across the street and into the lot. She scans the cars for something quick and easy to steal. Something old. Something without an immobilizer. Or an alarm.

Something… something… something… there!

Robin whines in Selina’s arms, and she feels her heart break just a little. “Shh,” she hums, setting him down a safe distance away from the ‘80s junker. Then she slams her claws into the window, shattering the glass. Once the lock is popped, the door swings open easily, and Selina gets to work.

Pry open the steering column. Red, yellow, and white wires. Strip and clip. She could do this in her sleep.

The engine roars to life, and Selina wastes no time grabbing Robin and throwing him in the passenger seat. She’s not as gentle as she should be, and a vein of guilt runs through her, but she doesn’t linger on the feeling. The boy needs someplace warm. Now.

“Guess Bats wouldn’t want you in a hospital,” she muses, because sometimes talking out loud is the only way to maintain sanity. And she’s right; Batman would hate if Robin’s identity got out. And anyway, Selina’s apartment is closer.

The gas pedal kisses the floor the whole drive. All Selina can hear are the boy’s sad little whimpers and the chattering of his teeth. Absently, she cranks the car’s heater. It doesn’t do much.

“Talk to me, kid,” she orders, eyes never straying from the road. “What happened?”

Robin whines again. “C-c-cold.”

“We’ve established that,” Selina replies, trying to ignore the panic clawing at her chest.

The boy doesn’t reply, and Selina doesn’t push him. Instead, she pushes the gas pedal. How can a three minute drive feel so long?

But despite how long it feels, it really only is three minutes (two and a half, really, what with the speeding) before they arrive at Selina’s apartment building. She leaves the engine running and the car doors open, taking the stairs two at a time. She doesn’t have time to wait for the elevator.

Otto and Hecate are waiting at the door when Selina barges in. The cats rub against her ankles and paw at her legs, but she pays them no mind.

“W-wh-where-?” Robin mumbles, twisting in her hold.

“Cut it out,” Selina hisses, “or I’ll drop you.” It’s not a threat; it’s a warning. The boy doesn’t seem to recognize this, and Selina all but tosses him on the couch before he can crack his head on the hardwood.

Robin groans. He might be awake. Selina can’t be sure with the mask. And despite the almost sacred importance that Batman places on anonymity, Selina can’t be bothered to care. There’s a dying boy in her apartment. Secret identities are moot at this point.

Selina doesn’t spend another second agonizing over the choice. She pulls the mask off and tosses it to the side. The boy (who is now, very clearly, just a boy) is only half-awake, glassy eyes taking in the apartment with indifference. 

And now she can finally look at what she’s truly dealing with. The boy is pale - paler than anyone should ever be - lips and fingers still blue. The front of his vest - the spot Freeze shot - is caked with ice and snow. His shaking fingers tug at his vest, trying to distance himself from the frozen clothing.

Taking pity, Selina helps ease the vest and undershirt off. And then she feels her own face go pale. The boy’s chest is blue, with traces of frost spreading outwards from the point of contact. His pulse is still there (thank god), but it’s slow and pounding. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and goosebumps instantly cover her arm.

“‘s c-, ‘s c-co-, ‘s c-c-col-”

“It’s cold, I know,” Selina hums sympathetically.

“Wh-ere-?”

Selina sighs, cranking up the radiator. Part of her feels bad. He’s just a confused, injured kid, after all. But the other part of her just wants him to be quiet.

“My apartment,” she says. She grabs a stack of blankets from the closet and lays them over Robin. Otto jumps onto the couch, settling against the boy’s side.

Selina wishes there was some way to contact Batman. Other than a giant spotlight, that is. She needs him here now. So she isn’t forced to dump his brat off at the hospital and hope for the best. But Batman isn’t big on sharing his phone number, so Selina has to just wait.

Selina hates waiting.

The boy murmurs something under his breath, expression tortured. “C-c-c-”

“Cold. I know.” She doesn’t mean to snap, but all she wants to do is make the problem go away. The fact that she can’t is killing her.

“N-nuh-no.”

Selina frowns, kneeling down and watching the increasingly aware Robin with concern. “What is it?”

“C-c-”

If he says cold again, Selina is going to burn down the apartment.

“C-Catwoman?”

Oh. Right.

“That’s me,” she assures him. With her mask still firmly affixed to her face, Robin would probably be surprised if she denied it.

“W-where’s B-B-B-?”

Something in Selina’s ice-cold heart softens, chilly water mixing with warm sentiment. “Bats is coming,” she promises, and she hopes to god that she isn’t lying.

But this doesn’t seem to comfort the boy. If anything, he grows more agitated, shifting so much that he almost rolls off the couch.

“Wh-? Cut it out!” Selina puts a hand on Robin’s shoulder, keeping him from crashing to the floor. “I told you, Bats will be here soon. Relax.” She tries to stand up to get the first aid kit, but Robin thrashes more. He shakes his head, still trembling hard. 

“I… I c-can’t let h-him…”

Selina’s initial reaction is to be annoyed. Why won’t this kid just stay still? She’s trying to keep him from freezing to death, and he’s only distracting her.

But another part of her - a curiouser, more analytical side of her - wonders why this is riling the boy up. What is he scared of?

Selina silences that part of her mind, of course. There are more important things at stake.

She pulls the first aid kit from the closet and dumps it on the kitchen table. She finds the thermometer hiding between the antiseptic and ace bandages. Then she returns to the boy, who clearly made another attempt to get up. His upper body is off the couch, arms and head dangling like a rag doll, while his legs remain solidly planted on the cushions.

“What did you do?” Selina sighs, grabbing Robin from under his arms and placing him back on the couch.

“G-gott-ta help B-B-Batma-an.” The boy clumsily grips her arms, savoring the heat of her skin. His fingers feel like icicles.

Selina shushes him and holds out the thermometer. Robin stares at her, eyes hazy with confusion.

“Open your mouth,” she orders before sticking the thermometer under his tongue. His teeth click against the plastic. He’s blinking more and more, the time with his eyes closed steadily increasing. Selina figures she should keep him alert, though she's not sure why.

“So, uh… crazy night in Gotham, huh?”

Robin’s attention drifts to her, and in slow succession, he frowns in confusion, then his eyebrows shoot up, and finally, he puts on his angriest glare.

The thermometer beeps, and Robin bats it away. “C-Ca-Catwom-man?” His voice is a low hiss.

Selina feels unease coat her stomach. Robin initially was ambivalent - maybe even pleased - to see her.

But now?

He's furious. Confused, most likely. Disoriented enough to think Selina wants to hurt him.

Slowly, carefully, Selina picks the thermometer off the floor to read the number:

89.0°

Selina’s blood runs cold.

“Ge-Get aw-way.”

He’s still scared, and until Selina can calm him down, he’s not going to let her get close. So Selina does the first thing that comes to mind. She pulls her mask off.

“Not Catwoman,” she soothes. “Just a woman.”

Robin is still angry. “I-I do-don’t kno-know you.”

“I’m Selina. And you're Robin. There you go; we’re not strangers anymore.”

And this long shot is ridiculously effective. Robin’s brow smooths over, expression uncomfortable but not angry. “‘k-kay, Se-Se-lina.”

“Will you stay on the couch so I can heat up some water? You need to drink something hot.”

Robin shrugs, snuggling deeper into his blanket pile. Otto lies beside Robin’s head and purrs contentedly.

Selina takes that as a yes, hurrying to the kitchen and microwaving a mug of water. Normally, she’d never do it, but she doesn’t have the time to use the stove. There’s no time to steep tea either, and Selina doesn’t keep hot chocolate on hand, so she squeezes some honey into the mug and calls it a day.

Robin is still shivering when Selina gets back, but thankfully, he’s still on the couch.

“Um…” Selina hesitates before tapping Robin on the head. (That’s how you wake up kids, right?) “Hey, you should drink this.”

The boy, still fully horizontal, looks at her like she has six heads. He doesn’t take the offered mug.

“C’mon. Just…” Selina sighs, taking a seat on the couch and pulling Robin into a seated position. “Drink this.” She shoves the mug in the boy’s hands, but he’s still trembling, and he nearly spills it everywhere before Selina grabs it back.

“Okay,” she mutters. “Okay, okay, okay.”

Why isn’t Batman here yet?

“C’mon,” Selina encourages, giving Robin back the mug before placing her own hands over his to stop the shaking. “Little sips, alright?”

The boy drinks half before his hands fall away.

Panic sparks in Selina’s chest before she realizes that Robin only did so to hug her. And then panic resumes for a completely different reason.

What is she supposed to do? What do you do when a kid hugs you?

“Stay under the blankets,” Selina scolds, prying his hands off and pushing him away. “You’re gonna freeze.”

But Robin doesn’t stay on his side of the couch for long. He returns moments later, snuggling up against Selina’s side.

“Didn’t you hear me? You’re going to die.”

Robin simply hums, leaning heavily against her.

For a second, Selina almost pushes him away again. But then she looks at him - really looks at him - and she can’t do it. He’s just so small and pathetic and-

And something about Selina is wrong. She feels… protective.

So, swept up in the moment, Selina grabs the blankets and situates them over her and the boy. (The cat is displeased, but he’ll get over it.) Then she wraps an arm around Robin, and he melts in her hold.

That’s how Batman finds them, when he finally comes for the boy.

[bustermoonsposts]

THIS ONE IS LONGER I PROMISE UUU

Angela from smosh cus i ran out of headers

 He tried his best to drive steady, hands shaking. God, I haven’t driven a car in what…fifteen years, he thought while driving down Broad St. It was dead silent. He pulled over, sat still, he prayed to whatever GOD was out there that this was a dream that he would wake up and get to work and see his friends safe and as normal as the little troup they had were he opened his eyes wide, reached for his phone, and called someone…

Ring

Ring

Ring

“H-hello?” the person on the other line answerd

“Rosita, are you ok…?” Rosita couldn't make it tonight because one of her kids, Casper, had a doctor's appointment at the same time as the show so she had to leave early and only had a part at the beginning of the 1-hour show (and Casper was always a little fighter at the doctor's)

“Yeah uhm me and Casper are still at the hospital-and uh there are the uh doctors and their eyes are glowing and their acting hostile” rosita said with a shaky breath her fingers digging into her phone

“Yeah…the others were too…there was an explosion or something at the local science lab, a weird goo it makes people go loco its very weird…” Buster said restarting the truck “which hospital are you at ill come pick you up-”

“ we’re at the ocean side hospital”

“Ocean side? That’s very far”

“Its the only one that'll take us”

“Alright”

“Im on my way……”

CHAPTER 2 the hospital

About half an hour later Buster arrives in the hospital parking lot taking a deep breath and looking through the truck for some type of weapon (yknow since its big daddys car he has to have something like a-) “A gun!?” he practically screamed, there were no bullets so he could…throw it at someone…??? Whatever he’ll think about it when or if he's in danger he enters the hospital the automatic doors making a loud screech hurting his ears as they pin against his head he looks around for what he can see

SO MANY INFECTED patients doctors nurses you name it, ITS A NIGHTMARE!!!

Buster's heart raced as he stepped into the chaotic scene of the hospital. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the faces of the infected. He scanned the waiting area, eyes darting from one distressed figure to another, searching for Rosita and Casper. “Stay calm, stay focused,” he whispered to himself, gripping the steering wheel of anxiety in his gut. He spotted a nurse staggering toward him, her clothes stained with something that resembled a thick, viscous goo. Her eyes were wide, vacant, devoid of recognition. “Hey!” Buster called out, but she only groaned in response, lurching unsteadily. He sidestepped quickly and headed toward the triage room, knowing that he had to find them fast. He pushed through the double doors, taking in the sight: frightened patients huddled together, some covered in the bizarre substance, others moaning in despair. Buster felt the panic rising, but he had to push it down. “Rosita!” he called, straining to keep his voice steady. “Casper!” There was no response at first, just the sounds of distress echoing off the walls. He moved deeper into the room, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, through the chaos, he heard a familiar voice. “Buster!” came Rosita’s shaky cry from a corner of the room. He turned abruptly, spotting her crouched beside a curtain, clutching Casper close. The boy's face was pale, but he was safe, at least for now. “Thank God!” Buster rushed over, dodging an infected nurse who stumbled past him, moaning. “Are you two okay?” “I-I think so,” Rosita stammered, her eyes wide with fear. “But we can’t stay here! They—they keep coming!” Buster quickly scanned the area and noticed a door at the far end of the room. “We need to move. Can you walk, Casper?” He knelt down, meeting the boy’s gaze. Casper nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly. “Okay, we’re getting out of here,” Buster said, offering his hand. Rosita gently helped her son to his feet, and they began to make their way toward the exit. As they approached the door, a loud crash echoed through the room. A group of infected burst in, their eyes gleaming with a chaotic frenzy. Buster’s instincts kicked in. “Run!” he yelled, pushing Rosita and Casper ahead of him. He turned to face the incoming tide, raising the gun he had found earlier—the heavy metal felt oddly comforting in his grip. “Get to the door!” he shouted again, his voice fighting against the rising fear. Rosita and Casper sprinted toward the exit, while Buster squeezed the trigger. It clicked empty, but it was enough to draw the attention of the infected momentarily. He hurled the gun toward the nearest figure, just to buy them a second or two. “Go, go, go!” he shouted, backing toward his friends as they reached the door. He grabbed the handle, pulling it open as he dodged to the side, urging Rosita and Casper outside. They stumbled into the cool night air, gasping for breath. “Over here!” Buster pointed toward his truck parked nearby, the headlights cutting through the darkness. They took off running, adrenaline propelling them forward. Once they reached the truck, Buster quickly yanked open the door and helped Rosita and Casper in. “Get buckled!” he ordered, hopping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut behind him. Rosita strapped Casper in with shaking hands. As Buster turned the ignition, the engine roared to life, cutting through the sounds of chaos behind them. He peeled out of the parking lot, the hospital fading in the rearview mirror.

[countrymusiclover]

One - The Man Who Can Control Metal

Battle of the Mind and Heart

Part 2

Tags - just send me an ask to be added @aintinacage

I am not sure how to really ever start the first chapter of my books. I hope I can figure out the dynamic. I want these two to go in at some point. If you have any tips on how that should go, dm me 👍

Germany, Poland 1944

Sliding on my black combat boots I pushed my hair out of my face. Standing up front the desk chair I was sitting in I could hear my father's footsteps coming closer down the hallway. I tied my hair up in a ponytail hearing the office door finally open revealing my father. He had dark brown hair and bright green eyes. Yet I resemble my mother overall with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. “Addison, you're coming to work with me today.”

“Alright whatever for?” I asked knowing that he normally kept me out of his work. Always saying it would be far too much for me to handle.

He fixed the top part of his jacket, sending me a half smirking yet proud smile. “There's someone very interested I'd like you to meet.” He headed out the door immediately and I was quick to follow his heels, he never cared for me if I was dragging along behind him.

We moved up and down some stairs then through a couple of different rooms until we entered an office and he shut the door behind me. He sat down in the chair behind the desk and I just decided to lean against the side before the door opened once more. Two soldiers enter, leading a young boy that looks to be my age of fourteen years old. “What is going on, father?”

“This boy was supposed to be going to the camps until he had a disagreement with some of the men. He bent a metal fence almost in half. He's not ordinary, my dear daughter.” My father almost sounded proud of such a feet.

Shifting my gaze to the young boy he avoided my gaze and watched the floor. “What's your name?”

“Erik…Erik Lehnsherr.” He paused in his answer. “I want to see my mother.”

Glancing over my shoulder I shiver asking the question. “Where's his mother?”

“That needn't be your concern, daughter. She is where she is supposed to be and he will see her again once he shows me what he can do.” My father picked up a bell out of the desk and the guards opened the door revealing a woman who Erik ran to, meaning it must be his mother. My father took out a handgun explaining. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to count to three…and you’re going to move the coin. You don’t move the coin, I pull the trigger.”

“Dad, no. You can’t!” I attempted to grab the gun from him but he had the two guards by the door grab me and pin me down on my knees and just watch. “One….two….three.”

Erik couldn’t move the coin and I cried out watching his mother get shot. Yet the young boy didn’t dare turn around before he bent the bell and the metal cabinet. Throwing my elbow backwards into one of the guards they tried to grab me but at the same time he managed to crush the metal helmets on their heads until they died beside his mother. “Erik…” I breathe put covering my face until all the metal lab objects stopped getting thrown around above my head.

Uncovering my eyes I gasped eyeing his mother's dead body on the floor. He started crying in anger with my father apalding him. “Outstanding, Erik. So we unlock your gift with anger.” He placed the coin in his hand and headed for the door.

“How could you do that to him!” Rushing forward I grabbed my father's arm and he winced and I saw my hand turn red. Quickly drawing my hand backwards I saw it disappear before he could see I had some power of my own. As far as he knew I was just human like my mother.

My father Sebastian turned around to face me. “He's not like everyone else and I wish to see what he can truly do.” He left the office without saying another word to me or to the boy behind me.

“Erik, I….I'm sorry.” I noticed that he hasn't moved from where he stood and I did consider touching his shoulder. Yet decided no seeing the state he was in now.

He slowly glanced at me sniffing through tears. “You’re a monster, Addison!” I didn’t like the way he said my name for the first time which such anger and hate. Wrapping my arms around myself I left the room figuring it would be hard to gain any trust with him now.

Years later

Things haven't gotten any better between Erik and I. My father has kept me out of the supposed research he calls it. Yet I found out the truth a little while ago…about two years after we met. It was the middle of the night as I made my way down to the sort of bunker room they were keeping Erik in. It had no metal seeing as he could escape. Shutting the door behind me he sat up slightly in the bed but scoffed the second he saw it was me. “What are you doing here!”

“I brought you some extra food from my dinner if you want it.” Reaching inside my jacket I tossed him a zip lock bag that had some biscuits and a half slice of meat seeing that they didn't feed him well.

He caught the bag looking me in the eye briefly. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because I'm not like my father, Erik.” I responded with my hands inside my pockets.

The young mutant boy sat in silence just eating the food that I had given him. Moving downward I sat across from him with my hands laying in my lap. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I knew that he didn’t trust me. “What is the real reason you’re talking to me?”

“Because I heard that they're shutting down everything. The camps, the experiments, everything. My father is packing to get out of here and not get executed. But I thought you should know that I’m here to help you get out of here.” Glancing over my shoulder I watched the door behind us counting down the minutes, figuring if my father found out where I was I would never see Erik again.

Erik stared at me finishing his food before he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. I noticed the numbers that had been marked onto his left forearm and it made me feel guilty that he was suffering. “You’re really willing to help me, I still don’t understand why.”

“Come with me and you’ll see that I’m someone you can trust.” Raising myself to my feet offering him my hand.

He hesitantly placed his hand in mine asking one more question before I helped him sneak out before we could get caught. “What am I supposed to call you, Shaw girl?”

“Addison is too formal. Call me Addi.”

He got to his feet heading for the door twisting the doorknob and we both saw some flashing lights going down the hallway. He quickly turned his attention to me. “So what exactly is the plan now?”

“How about this? Since I am helping you get out of here then you agree to never hurt or try to kill me.” I suggested shrugging my shoulders.

Erik actually agreed to my shock and awe. “Fine, Shaw girl. But you'll help me find the ones who hurt me.” I squeezed his hand that was still looped with his saying that I agreed in silence before began running and haven't stopped since then.

Shutting the hotel room door behind me with my foot I didn’t hear the tv or anything on in which could only mean that Erik had either left or was just plotting in silence. Sliding my boots off of my feet at the door I paused in the doorway. “How long have you been staring at that wall?”

“That’s not your concern.” He grumbled moving the coin from my father between his fingers, never looking away from the board with pinned maps and pictures leading up to my father’s picture.

Crossing my arms over my chest I huffed. “Maybe it is my business considering the only time you leave is to kill some other Nazi members. So forgive me for being concerned.”

“I didn’t ask you to free me that night, Addison.” He scoffed using my full name knowing I didn’t care for it.

Waving my index finger at him I stepped away from the wall and to the foot of the bed. “I told you to not call me that, Lehnsherr!”

“Addison.” He just kept going until I crawled up onto the bed putting my hands on either side of his head glaring at the man in front of me.

The entire time he just kept moving the coin until I managed to snatch it from him. My freehand landed down on his thigh and he winced where I realized what I was doing and drew my hand back. “Sorry that I might actually care about you after what happened to your family. If you’re gonna hate me for the rest of our lives I guess I’ll just go!”

“Addison….” Erik called for me but I was already around the corner to my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. He noticed the coin had been dropped on the floor and so he slowly used his power, levitating it once more and then launching it right to my father’s forehead.

Once the door was shut I flopped down on my bed screaming into my pillow. A few minutes after that I heard the desk lamp move and a few markers and some of my shoes go flying around…everything had some tiny bit of metal inside them. “Urgh! Why did I have to touch him.” I scolded myself under my breath in frustration.

Sitting upright on the foot of the bed I put my face in my hands. “At some point he'll figure it out.” Raising my right hand I made the pen start to levitate in the air since I still had Erik's power running from my veins for a short time. Laying my head back on the pillow I just stared at the ceiling.

My father couldn't know the truth that I had my own mutation. Because if he knew he would have done everything that he did to Erik on his own daughter. So if them other mutant I was living with needed to hate me then I'd accept it. Since I didn't feel like I could be myself…my true self and that maybe I was broken since I could only take power from others and I didn't have my own abilities.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

The metal controlling mutant sat in silence and finally moved his gaze to my locked door. He felt slightly guilty and confused for treating you badly over the years but he couldn’t see past what he knew. That your father was the man who ruined his life…even though you decided to help him he wouldn’t let his heart change the mission he had inside his head.

[grandpaluvr69]

Untitled, very suggestive ficlet based on this;

Violence, incest, dddne: it's exactly what's on the tin

We take requests

⬇️

The stupid fucking thing was supposed to remain unconscious until they could get it contained in his ship. Of course, rarely do things not go completely tits up halfway through any adventure. Rick and Morty were eventually caught off guard by a large shapeshifting mass of fleshy growth that tackled Morty down to the ground mid-transformation. Oh fuck this.

Rick stepped back out of reach of flailing limbs as the creature shifted it's form into a seemingly perfect copy of his grandson while grappling with the real deal. He made a frustrated grunting noise, watching with rapt attention now as the identical sets of gangly arms and legs swung and clawed at each other. As much as he enjoyed watching the fourteen year old get all his teen rage out on something that wasn't him, he begrudgingly reached out and ripped the two bodies apart from each other and dropped them a couple feet apart. He smoothly reached into his lab coat and pulled out a sleek looking gun that lit up blue along the barrel as it charged up.

Both Mortys stood up in mirrored movements, almost disorientating to watch. When they both noticed the gun in Rick's hand and the almost silent whine it was emitting- ready to fire at any second- he watched with delight as fear washed over one face and then the other. Just a fraction off beat.

"Okay, I'm n-ough-t playing the blame game, th-that shit's annoying me without h-having t-urrp-to even start." Rick gestured between them both using the gun, eyeing the one to his left that just barely shivered.

"R-rick this- this is g-getting out of h-hand-" "-th-this is starting t-to really freak me out Rick!" They almost talked over each other, the grating whine doubled, and Rick shot the floor between them and made both boys jump.

"Sh-uuuugh-ut up, I got this dude."

He reached into his coat again and dug around a little before producing a little red remote engulfed in his long fingers. The Morty on the left started to turn pink in the face while the one on the right began to grow confused.

"W-w-w-ait Rick m-maybe there's a b-b-better w-aAAAY-" Morty on the left doubled over and fell to his knees when Rick twisted a dial on the remote with his thumb alllll the way over with one motion. A sharp grin twisted his lips up as Morty moaned loudly, utterly pleased with the vile display of the boy writhing on the ground now. The muffled sound of something buzzing away filled the air, and the shapeshifter contorted Morty's face into one of disgust as it turned to look up at Rick.

"I thought that was your grandson, you sick fuck, what the hell is wrong with you!?" It dropped all pretense of being a wimpy high school freshman, it's voice warping out of Morty's obnoxious trill. It was struggling to keep from looking at the whimpering whining body next to it.

"Lotta things, l-like the need to- like how I just g-gotta take care of his cute needy little ass a-after ourhp- after we're done here." Rick's attention was waning now, so before he let his eyes snap back to Morty on the ground panting like a whore, he aimed his gun between the shapeshifter's big brown eyes and felt something twist with arousal in his gut as he blew it's brains out with a very forceful shot. Nice and easy, he let out a breath to cool the smoke off the tip and slid it back into his coat.

Rick finally let his gaze drift down, giving the Morty-shaped shifter corpse a once over as his eyes settled on his grandson. Popping a squat and listening to his knees crack, he watched Morty raise his head up. Tears and drool streaked his young face, and it started rolling something heavy in Rick's groin as the old man finally brought the remote up to fiddle with it. The buzzing sound quieted and Morty made a wheezing gasping sound as he was granted reprieve from the onslaught, bleary brown eyes raising up to lock with cheerful steel ones.

"Y-ouugh-ou did great buddy," Rick clamped a large hand down on Morty's shoulder and squeezed before helping the boy up to his feet, making sure to support him when he stumbled.

"F-fuck you man, that was h-humiliating." There wasn't any bite in the bark there, so Rick just laughed at him. It wasn't a mean laugh either, at least not in the way he laughed when he was making fun of the little guy.

"H-hows about Gr-aagh-grandpa make it- make it u-up to you then?" His smile made Morty shiver, something he watched gleefully before grabbing the corpse by the familiar brown curls. He didn't miss the way Morty's eyes followed all the rough movements of his grandfather manhandling the dead body that looked just like him.

"What? I can st-still use it."

"Y-you're not "m-making it up to me" w-w-with that in the ship." The firmness in his tone was set deep.

"Booooo! Yyyou're no, you're no fun Morty." Rick slung his free arm around the shaking teenager and guided him the rest of the way to the ship, dragging the cooling corpse behind him.

[liliumsabyss]

Hello I have once again found myself rereading the Newt fics and my love for them continues to grow. However thoughts have been thunk and I need protective Newt in my life. I’m happy to let you run wild with whatever ideas you want, if you can’t think of any here are some ones that have been floating around my mind:

Newt protecting reader while they escape the maze. Newt protecting reader at the WICKED facility (probs not what it’s called but can’t stop and think about that right now). Newt protecting reader from himself while he has the flare. Newt protecting reader from Teresa/WICKED after the betrayal.

Anything you want, I’ll take it all.

All the love for you and your work ❤️

Protecting and Patching

FEM DNI, I SWEAR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Newt(TMR) x Male Reader

Word Count: 1.96k

Tw: Maybe OCC Newt, Blood, Injuries, Mentions of Death, WICKED, Swearing, Weapons, General TMR Violence, Film Newt, Based on Both Novel and Film

A/n: Hey again! It makes me so happy that you enjoy the fics so much! I really like the idea of Newt protecting the reader at the WICKED facility especially since my love of that scene in both the films and novels is just <3<3<3 I love that scene so much of course I love Newt more and he’s just so great in the scenes even if it’s very subtle he does a lot of the shit in the scenes. I had so much fun writing this to the point that I rewatched the scene like eight times to include all the little detail things that happen since I just wanted to capture the feel of the scene and Newts character in that scene since it’s like their first time with face to face peril of WICKED. I had a load of fun writing this and I also learned that Thomas Brodie-Sangster the guy who plays Newt is one of the voice’s of Ferb from Phineas and Ferb I don’t know if I love this fact or if it makes me want to cry. Anyway I hope you enjoy and all the love to you! Thank you so much!

The boys flooded out of the vent into a dark room that was made of dark concrete floor and bright white concrete brick walls that were decorated with metal pipes winding and weaving into the florecently lighted hallways. The group stood antsy waiting for Thomas to give the next instructions, (Y/n) rocked on the balls of his feet, Newt quickly stepped closer to the other. Thomas started heading down the hallway.

“ Wait, go ahead I’ve got something I need to do” Aris calls out to the rest, one replying they will go with him.

The boys started sprinting down the hallway, Newt making sure the (h/c) haired male was beside him. The sound of footsteps pounded through the wall and the group turned the corner only to be met with a lady in a lab coat. The blonde quickly stumbled back making sure to put himself slightly in front of his lover blocking him subtly from the woman. 

“ What are you kids doing-“ The lady started before being cut off with the howl of sirens projecting from overhead siren lights flashed yellow. The lady’s face quickly contorted as the boys seized her holding her hostage as they continued their sprint through the corridor. They turned a corner (Y/n) being in front of the blonde when the ones who had passed the corner skidded to a stop. A man in all black with what appeared to be a large gun shouted a hey before raising the weapon and opening fire. Newt grabbed the (h/c) haired arm pulling him back clutching onto as they started to sprint the opposite way.

“ Are you ok!” Newt tried to shout over the chaotic shouts and pounding of footprints but it didn’t reach the other as he froze looking away towards where the man had come from. The blonde turned to see what the other was looking at, Minho was stopped several feet away with his fist tightly clenched, some let out calls questioning what he was doing at a time like this. Minho turned around letting out a yell as he sprinted full speed hurtling towards the wall as the man came around the corner. He kept through the air his knees close to his chest as he soared into the man taking him off guard knocking him into the concrete walls rendering him unconscious or dead. (Y/n) couldn’t exactly tell as the group surged forward Newt grabbing his arm dragging him along. Thomas had picked up the gun leading the group of boys through the winding hallways as they still kept the woman in the lab coat hostage.

A large metal door stood in front of them quickly being opened as they surged in seeing five very startled people in lab coats. Thomas holding up the large gun waving it between them screeching ‘where is she’ repeatedly. Newt turned to see (Y/n)’s face, he was biting his lip trying to push down the fear but the blonde could still see it in his eyes which had widened at Thomas’ sudden act of aggression. Newt quickly stepped in front of the other pulling his own arm behind his back to grab the (h/c) haired male's hand looking back raising his eyebrow. (Y/n) just gave the other a nod. Thomas had passed the gun to Minho who continued to keep the WICKED employee’s at gun-point. Newt ran forward grabbing a long strip of cloth attempting to tie their hands together as Thomas retrieved Teresa from the medical bed. Then suddenly someone standing next to the (h/c) haired male shouted ‘they’re coming this way!’ (Y/n) looked petrified turning towards the window in the door right where he had been standing. 

“ (Y/n) get back!” Newt screamed, his eyes widening in fear as he pushed through the crowd in the room towards the door. (Y/n) quickly sprinted out of the way, the blond pushed over a nearby metal examination table it made a loud clatter that shuddered through the already clambering room. There was a loud screech as the table was pushed by Newt up against the door barricading it. 

“ BACK EVERYONE GET BACK!” Someone shouted as a loud crash was heard, reinforcements crashed into the door trying to bash it open. (Y/n) turned at the sound of the panging of glass only to see Thomas thrusting a stool into the glass attempting to break it only to be unsuccessful. Newt looked with terror at the door as the WICKED guards were so close to breaking in so close to getting them all and then what would happen would they be killed like their so called rescuers or would only some of them be killed, would one of them be himself or even worse (Y/n), that future could not exist, he picked up another stool hurdling it towards the glass with Thomas. The loud sound of a shatter filled the room as the glass rained upon them. The boys leapt through the empty window frame that still had remnants of glass. Newt kept turning as the (h/c) haired male shakily attempted to climb through with the blonde spotting him, he however stepped on a piece of glass piercing through his foot the tip covered in blood appearing at the top of his shoe. The male let out a quick yelp falling forward onto Newt who luckily caught him.

“ Can you walk?” Newt said worriedly looking between the other’s shoe that was covered in blood.

“ I think so…” (Y/n) seethed, clenching his teeth. The blonde slowly lowered the male's legs to the ground still keeping his arms around him to take some of the weight of his foot. Newt looked up at (Y/n), (Y/n) giving a curt nod, his arm still stretched around Newt. Then they hear a loud crash. The (h/c) haired male didn’t even get a chance to look back before Newt had started sprinting, still supporting some of (Y/n)’s weight. The group sprints through the hallway being led by Thomas, Newt and (Y/n) towards the front of the group running on pure adrenaline. They all ran through a door. A man in a black ski mask with blank eyes stood there with a large gun which must have been the standard for WICKED. Thomas with little hesitation shot the man with the weapon he had been holding. Suddenly they hear the thundering footsteps echoing down the hallway from the WICKED employee’s. Someone yells shit as they race off again, they finally get to the access door all of them clinging desperately to the large industrial door. Thomas frantically swipes the ID card into the access slot, the door buzzes and a red light flashes denying access. The doors metal jaws stay clamped, some slap Thomas’ back yelling word’s of rush such as ‘c’mon’ and hurry up, but once again Thomas tries are futile as he once again frantically swipes the card it fails buzzing a sound of denial and flashing red. They hear the heavy footsteps of guards looking down the hallway and they see Jason surrounded by guards in tactile equipment heavily armed and holding up shields. Newt quickly pushed (Y/n) into the corner of the wall as gently as he could keeping in mind his injured foot shielding him from the rest as he turned to face the guard’s. Thomas quickly started walking towards Jason ready to open fire shouting at him to open the door only for him to respond with a threatening ‘you don’t want to do this’. Newts head whips behind him making eye contact with the (h/c) haired male whose hands were placed on the blondes back shaking, Newt looked away avoiding making the other more terrified he looked desperately back at the card slotted only one thought pummeling through his head how were they going to get out of this. Then as if a higher power heard Newt’s thoughts the heavy metal door screeches open its heavy jaws. Newt gives a cry of relief like most of the group as he throws (Y/n)’s arm around him, (Y/n) lets out a hopeful smile before they stumble through the door. Thomas lets out a few shots before his gun becomes jammed, throwing it at Jason and his security personnel. The metal door starts to shut slowly sliding down, everyone is screaming for Thomas to get there and in the little gap between the metal teeth of the door and the floor Thomas slides under. Jason hits the window of the door angrily as Thomas flips him off. (Y/n) still clasping onto Newt sticks his young out briefly mocking him as wide smiles spread onto the boy’s faces. They start at full speed sprinting through the large warehouse-like room stopping when they approach the large metal gate that stood a steel or iron giant whatever material it may be in front of them towering twenty feet standing between them and their freedom. Thomas quickly pulled a red lever allowing the doors to steadily open heavily, dragging open a greyish-blue smoke swirled past the door as the group flooded out.

Once they got to safety Newt and his lover separated from the group. The blonde still supported the others' weight as they hobbled to a corner where the two could sit. Newt carefully helped the other sit on the floor hoping that the pain had decreased and the bleeding stopped. He looked up at the other for permission as he went to take off (Y/n)’s shoe the (h/c) haired male nodded. Newt tried to take his shoe off as carefully as he could looking up at the other male who was biting his lip trying to not show how much pain he was in. Newt slid off the shoe to see a several inch wide gash going straight through the (s/c) skin of (Y/n)’s foot . It was bloody but didn’t appear to be bleeding as much as it was, being mostly caked in dried blood. Newt quickly took a flask of water that he had picked up earlier pouring the water on the wound. (Y/n) squirmed clenching his fists in pain.

“ I'm sorry love, I'm sorry.” Newt apologized, trying not to look up at the other in guilt. The blonde quickly tore apart part of his white cotton shirt’s sleeve, he gently held up the (h/c) haired male's foot using the cloth as a makeshift bandage wrapping the wound tightly letting the foot go carefully. The blonde then slid next to his lover putting an arm around him. 

“ This hurt’s like a shucking bitch!” (Y/n) whined to Newt waving his leg in the air.

“ It looks like we will be limping together for the time being.” Newt chuckled slightly making the rare joke about his leg only for (Y/n) to give him a bewildered look and a slight nudge. (Y/n) grabbed Newt hand interlacing them, Newt pulled their hands towards himself raising them slowly to his lips kissing (Y/n)’s hands as he peered at them with his honey brown eyes he gave out a short amused hum seeing the others bashful face.

“ We should get some sleep.” The blonde said hugging his lover slightly more into him, the (h/c) haired male leaned his head against Newt's shoulder with Newt reciprocating the action leaning his head against the others head.

“ Goodnight Newt”

“ Goodnight (Y/n), love”

The two drifted off into sleep in each other's embrace, the other boys shaking their heads at the lovesick couple leaving them alone as they continued to their shifts making sure not to wake the pair.

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 27

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

6.9k

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fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, suicide ideation, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: This was going to be the last chapter, but it's too long. I'm splitting it and posting what's completed. Expect a last chapter and epilogue. Thank you for sticking with me!

27

The doorbell chime made him start, which was stupid. An invasion wouldn’t start with someone ringing the goddamn doorbell. He stared unseeing at the den’s television while MTV went to commercial.

Also, he should be used to the noise. Steve’s house was a hub of activity, between the phone ringing and the doorbell going off and people talking.

Footsteps thumped overhead. He identified that as the man of the house himself walking to the front door. A moment later, multiple voices, all male, rumbled from the foyer. Several pairs of footsteps moved farther into the house.

Then your voice joined the mix. He couldn’t gauge your tone, other than you weren’t pissed. He turned down the TV volume and frowned at the basement ceiling when you kept talking. A male voice said something you replied to.

Eddie eased from the sectional couch and padded to the foot of the stairs. Of course, it didn’t gain him anything. The door at the top remained closed, muffling any conversation. He considered creeping up the stairs, but he didn’t know where the creaks hid in the treads.

He put a knee on the third tread and crawled forward to half-lay on the stairs. Now midway to the door, he could distinguish between the voices. Yours, of course, Steve’s every so often, then three others.

No one sounded defensive or upset, so that eased his mind. Somewhat.

Everyone kept talking, though. He racked his brain for what they could be discussing. It probably had something to do with yesterday’s visit. He hoped it wasn’t government officials who’d changed their minds about not dragging him to prison. Or worse yet, to some underground lab to conduct experiments on him.

What if they were here for you, though?

Maybe they’d figured out you had magic and wanted you to do stuff for them. While in their clutches, they’d take bio-samples from you. They’d clone you — was that even possible? — or make babies in petri dishes — that had to be possible — to grow a whole witch army and take over the world.

Of course, the thought of having a second you intrigued him. Would a clone kiss like you? Taste like you? Would she moan like you do when he sinks inside her? Would one of you sit on his face while the other rode his dick?

His cock grew heavy and hot in his borrowed briefs.

Jesus H. Christ, he chided. Fucking focus.

It was quiet. Too quiet. He strained to hear what was going on.

Soft footsteps shuffled near.

He shot off the stairs and turned towards the TV. He couldn’t be discovered hanging around near the stairs with a half-chub like a perv. And the sleep-pants did nothing to hide it. His gaze darted to the VHS tape storage cabinet by the TV.

That would work.

He careened around the scuffed coffee table. The loops of the cable-box controller tangled around his foot. Like Gandalf in the Balrog’s whip, he’d been caught.

He hissed, “Shit, shit, shit,” as he hopped to the cabinet, shaking his foot free.

The basement door opened. He grabbed the cabinet for balance. A drawer of tapes wobbled open. He shoved it closed. Tapes clattered. Whoever opened the drawer next was going to have to repack it. Whoops. But it was cool. Everything was cool. He checked his crotch. His half-chub had subsided.

“Eddie?” you said as you descended the stairs.

He faced you, propping an elbow on top of the cabinet.

You’d changed into those black jeans he liked. They hugged your thighs and ass. He willed his dick to stay soft.

“Hey, hi, what’s up?”

You gave him a curious look as you stepped down into the basement.

“You okay?”

He waved a hand in a general sort of way.

“Other than, you know, everything, yeah, I’m okay.”

You nodded, though he could tell you knew something was off.

He said, “I was going to pick out a movie.” He glanced at the stairs. “Is everything okay up there?”

You approached him like he was a cornered dog.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, but don’t freak out—”

“Freak out about what?” he asked, warning sirens blaring through his mind.

“The police are here, and they want to take your statement.”

He straightened.

“Statement about what?”

“The night Chrissy died.” You held up your hands before he could protest. “I just gave them my statement about my interactions with Jason Carver. Who is dead.” With eyes wide, you gave him a leading look and head tilt. “I know you’ve had interactions with Jason, too.”

He nodded along as the implication clicked into place.

“Yeah, I’ve had interactions with Carver.”

“You want to give a statement to the police about that night with Jason and Chrissy?”

No, he did not, yet if he didn’t, he’d never be free. Vecna would continue to ruin his life. While Eddie still wasn’t sure about the existence of an afterlife, he wouldn’t give that asshat the satisfaction.

He girded his metaphorical loins — why did everything circle back to his crotch? — and headed upstairs. You walked behind him, not crowding him, but close enough to be supportive. He wanted to look at you, really look at you, and confess his love again. Just in case this all fell apart. There wasn’t time — and he was certain if he did, he’d wuss-out. Compound that with the fact he couldn’t hold your gaze for more than a second, he’d definitely wuss-out.

Taking two steps into the living room, he froze. He must be hallucinating. Chief Hopper, the very one who’d been there at Dad’s arrest, who supposedly died in the Starcourt fire, stood by the dining table. Though there was considerably less of him around the middle, his hair was buzzed short, and he looked like he’d lost a fight with the Wolfman, there was no question it was him.

Chief Powell sat at the table, facing the room. Metal crutches had been propped against the table next to him. Eddie recognized the deputy who stood at Powell’s left. He couldn’t recall a name, but he’d seen the deputy around town.

Steve leaned a shoulder on the tall curio cabinet behind the table. It was a King Steve pose he’d observed many a time at school. The sling and bandages were absent, courtesy of you.

You stepped beside Eddie and took his numb hand. On instinct, he curled his fingers around yours.

Hopper stepped forward, expression calm and hands placating.

“You’re not in trouble, kid.”

If it had come from anyone else, he’d consider it a lie. For a cop, Hopper had been a decent one. He’d ignored Eddie’s underage drinking at the Hideaway. He’d issued warnings instead of speeding tickets.

You turned your head to whisper, “I won’t let them take you even if they try.”

He gave a minute nod before releasing your hand and marching to the table. If they tried to arrest him, he hoped he’d retained that undead speed. He pulled out the chair across from Powell to sit.

You went to stand by Steve, who gave you a warm look. If anything happened, Eddie knew Steve would protect you and vice versa.

Powell cleared his throat and pressed the Record button on the cassette recorder to start the interrogation.

“Chief Calvin Powell and former Chief Jim Hopper speaking with Edward Munson, Monday, March 31st, 1986.” To Eddie, he said, “Mr. Munson, you’re not under arrest. All we want is your account of what happened the night of March 21st.” When he nodded, Powell said as an aside, “Note Mr. Munson nodded in understanding.” He continued, “We have multiple statements from witnesses placing you at Hawkins High School during the basketball game that night. We also have several overlapping accounts attesting to Jason Carver threatening them at gunpoint at a later date.”

Eddie nodded again, wanting to say that didn’t surprise him. However, Dad’s warning to never talk to cops kept him silent. “These folks stated Jason Carver said he’d sacrifice them for this town. They claim he’d wanted to break their bones. Does that sound like something he could do?”

Eddie glanced at you and Steve. If he followed Dad’s warning, he’d never get out of this. Of course, he didn’t have to give them everything at once. That would be out of character. He had to think like a DM and give them just enough to lead them where the party wanted them to go.

“Yeah, along with pinning all those murders on me,” he said.

Planting his elbows on a nearby chair back, Hopper said, “Sounds like he had the whole town fooled.”

He bobbed his head in agreement.

“I heard he hijacked a town hall meeting.”

Powell shifted in his seat.

“Mr. Munson, did Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham enter your home the night of March 21st?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall the time?”

“No, not exactly.” He glanced up in thought. “I guess after ten?”

“What were they doing there?”

“Said they wanted drugs.”

“Did you sell them drugs?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have drugs.”

Which he didn’t. Now.

“But they thought you had drugs to sell?”

He met Powell’s gaze and said, “I can’t presume to know what they thought.”

Powell sighed, frustration clear.

“Alright. Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham enter your house sometime after ten, looking to purchase drugs. Then what?”

“I left them in the living room.”

Just like he’d left Chrissy for Vecna to kill. Bait on a hook.

“To do what?”

“Get my cigarettes.”

He could do with one right about now.

“Why would you get your cigarettes?”

“Why does anyone get cigarettes?” He shrugged with a huff. “I wanted a smoke, and I forgot them in my room.”

“Then what happened?”

He rolled his shoulders as if uncomfortable.

“They began arguing.”

“About?”

“I don’t know. I was still in my room.”

“But you know they were arguing?”

“Yeah, Jason raised his voice at Chrissy.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I grabbed my cigarettes and came back to the living room.”

“Did you step in?” Powell angled his head. “Try to intervene?”

“No, it was too late—”

“Too late?”

“Look, he was yelling at her. She said something. Might’ve been his name, I don’t know. Then it got quiet, and then I heard a real loud thump. When I came out, Chrissy was on the floor.”

Instead of floating midair.

“Alive?”

“I don’t know, but she wasn’t moving.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I wanted to go to her, but Jason was…” He shook his head, remembering how intense Carver could get. “Jason was out of his mind.”

“What do you mean, out of his mind?”

“He was, like, in a rage. Scared the shit outta me.”

“How so?”

“He screamed and pounded on his chest.” He mimicked what he saw in his mind, knocking his fist against his breastbone. “His eyes were wild, like something else was behind them.”

“Something else?”

He blew out a breath. This was make-or-break in the story.

“I’m not religious or anything, but he looked… He looked fucking possessed.” He rubbed his forehead. “I know how this sounds, okay? I know this sounds crazy.”

It was quiet for a moment before Powell asked, “Did Jason Carver have the same reaction the night of March 25th at Lover’s Lake?”

“I don’t know. He and—uh…” He snapped his fingers as though trying to recall. “A teammate?”

“Patrick McKinney.”

“McKinney, yeah. They were in the water, coming after me.”

“Where were you?”

“In a fishing boat, trying to get away from them, but I lost my balance and fell in the water.”

“Did you see what happened to Patrick?”

“No, I was swimming away from them.”

Powell nodded in acceptance.

“Okay, back to March 21st: Jason and Chrissy. Jason was screaming, and Chrissy was on the floor.”

“Yeah, I wanted to go to her.” He looked at the table, muttering, “I wanted to save her. Get her away from him.”

He’d tried to do it. He’d shaken her shoulders and yelled for her to wake up, snap out of it, anything, but Vecna’s hold was too powerful. Whatever she’d needed to break the curse, he hadn’t had it.

“What did Jason do?” asked Powell.

“He came after me. He chased me out of the living room.”

“Where did you go?”

“I ran out of the trailer.”

“Did you go to a neighbor?”

“No, I got in my van and left the trailer park.”

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

He threw a glance at Hopper. He suspected Hopper would’ve taken him seriously, but that hadn’t been a possibility. Everyone thought Hopper was dead. Including himself.

“Like any of you would’ve believed me — the son of a convicted car thief, trailer trash, a super senior, a freak — over Hawkins’ golden boy, the captain of the basketball team.”

Powell and the deputy looked equal parts uncomfortable and insulted.

Good.

“So, yeah,” he said. “I ran and hid, and Jason kept chasing me.”

While you morons stood around with your heads up your asses.

“Why do you think he did that?” Powell asked.

“Probably because I saw him hurt Chrissy. I was the only witness. Get rid of me, one way or another, and no one would ever know what he’d done.”

Powell shared a look with the deputy, whose face was unreadable. Powell saw something there, though, and turned to him.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Munson. We’d appreciate it if you stayed in town until we conclude our investigation.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

He didn’t know where he’d go or how he’d get there. He’d hidden his van in the woods off Coal Mill Road. He needed to retrieve it, but not until it was safe to leave this house. Also, he didn’t know where Wayne was, or if he’d survived. The thought made his insides shrivel and tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

Hopper clapped him on the back, knocking him into the present. The cassette recorder was gone.

“Glad you’re still with us, kid.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Powell arranged his crutches to stand. The deputy assisted, while Steve straightened to show them to the front door. Powell shuffled around the table, his right leg supported at an angle.

Eddie felt your concerned focus directed at him, but he couldn’t indulge himself. Instead, he watched Steve lead the police to the door. Something compelled him out of his chair and moving towards them.

“Hey, Hop,” he said.

Hopper faced him, heavy brow lifted in interest.

“Wayne— Have you seen— I mean, do you know if my uncle’s alive?”

Hopper contemplated the question for a second.

“No, but I think I know who might.” He jutted his chin in a reassuring way. “I’ll give ‘em a call.”

“Thanks.”

Hopper nodded before jogging to catch up with Powell and the deputy outside. He said something to Steve in passing that made Steve grin.

Once Steve shut the door, Eddie dragged his ass to the table and flopped into his chair.

“Jesus, fuck…”

You asked, “Want a beer?”

He rubbed at his eyes, saying, “That’s a good start.”

-

“Holy shit,” Robin said from her seat at the kitchen island.

You kept smearing melting butter on your toast. Steve grunted in front of the gurgling coffee maker. Eddie, who sat across from her, remained quiet.

You’d learned Robin said ‘holy shit’ about a lot of things.

“Guys,” she said with a flap of the morning newspaper. “Guys, look at this.”

Steve abandoned his vigil to see what Robin was holy-shit-ing about. You took a bite of toast and turned. His eyes widened when he read what Robin had pointed out.

“Holy shit.”

Eddie, chin in hand, hummed as he stared at the window over the sink. However, your curiosity had been piqued. You stopped beside Eddie, anticipating Steve sliding the newspaper in front of you. When he did, you swallowed and stared at the headline:

DEVELOPMENT IN LOCAL TEEN MURDERS

You scanned the article. It mentioned the nationwide Satanic panic and how citizens had been led to believe a local cult was sacrificing children to the Devil. The writer praised cooler heads, namely Chief Powell and his deputies, who continued to investigate despite the earthquake and subsequent volcanic fissure eruption.

Ah, you thought, that was how they were covering up the destruction near the closed nexus.

Chief Powell was quoted:

“There is irrefutable evidence Edward Munson is the victim of false accusations. This office has cooperated with federal investigators and spoken with numerous local, credible witnesses to determine such a conclusion.”

Despite police not identifying a person of interest, the writer insinuated the actual murderer might be amongst those who had advocated for hunting down Eddie. They speculated the public accusations against Eddie had been a diversion. While the police investigation remained ongoing, an insider let slip police were closing in on a suspect.

The writer went on to report neither local nor federal investigations uncovered any cult, Satanic or otherwise, in the area. Of course, citizens were welcome to report any cult activity to the sheriff’s office. The article ended with the newspaper promising to keep readers informed.

Holy shit.

“Eddie,” you said, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Read this.”

He blinked a few times before pulling his attention away from the window. With a concerned look, he glanced around the island.

“What?”

You pushed the newspaper in front of him and tapped a finger on the headline. He perused the accompanying article, eyes widening as he read.

To Steve, you said, “Better call Nancy.”

He nodded and dialed Nancy’s number on the kitchen phone. After a playful exchange with Mrs. Wheeler, during which Robin rolled her eyes, Steve’s manner turned serious. From listening to half of the conversation, you deduced Nancy had seen the article. He mentioned Dr. Owens, along with Jason Carver. Nancy said more about Jason, but you couldn’t make out her words.

Steve nodded as she spoke, though. When he hung up, you gave him an expectant look.

“The Feds found Jason Carver’s body. Or what’s left of it. His gun’s missing, but there were bullet casings nearby. Nance told Owens about Carver at The WarZone buying a gun, so that’s a lead for them.”

“It corroborates my story about him, too,” you said.

“And the Sinclairs’,” Robin said, leaning an elbow on the island.

After she’d returned to Steve’s last night, she told you, Eddie, and Steve about the police collecting statements from Lucas and Erica. Their statements had led to yours, then Eddie’s. Maybe others’. Who knows how many people Jason had terrorized after Chrissy’s murder.

You nodded as you pondered how many doors he’d knocked on before coming to yours. It was fortunate he’d found you before Mom. If he’d confronted her instead of you, she’d know all about you and Eddie. It’s funny how you’d been debating on introducing him that day. Eddie still had no idea.

Eddie slid from his stool, mumbling something about a shower. You watched him leave the kitchen. While you’d give him privacy, you first needed to tell him. It was an urge, like a hand pushing at the middle of your back.

He was halfway up the stairs when you reached him.

“Eddie, hang on.”

He stopped without turning to face you, hand on the railing.

“What?”

“The Saturday after Chrissy was killed…”

“Yeah?”

“Jason came looking for you.” When he said nothing, you continued, “I was out front planting—”

“Why’re you telling me this?”

“It’s called backstory.”

He turned his head enough for you to see his jaw around his hair, yet he remained quiet.

“He called me your girlfriend.”

“And I bet a whole bunch of other things.”

You sighed, though you remembered Jason’s accusations.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters was my plan for that day.”

“Plan?”

“I wanted to introduce you as my boyfriend to my mom when you picked me up. I was going to run it by you first, of course, but I wanted to.”

Voice dripping with sarcasm, he said, “Well, the pressure’s off now, isn’t it? They’re out of town for the foreseeable future, right?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Your mouth fell open as he stomped from view.

What an asshole thing to say. You’d been trying your best this entire goddamn time.

“I hope your shower sucks,” you snapped, climbing the rest of the stairs.

His bedroom door closed with a definitive click.

You went to your room and shut the door. If he wanted to be a little brat about it, let him. All you’d wanted to do was tell him the truth. You understood he’d had the worst week and a half in the history of the world. You’d cut him some slack, but you were no doormat.

Maybe it was too little too late, though, and maybe he didn’t need to know. You sat on the bed and wiped at your stinging eyes. Why did you have to bring this up now? Of all times? It was just… It was just that you wanted him to know you’d… Been serious about him? Remained serious about him? That you’d never been embarrassed to be with him?

But shit, he’d been the one who wanted to pause the relationship. If he hadn’t, you would’ve introduced him much sooner. Sure, your father wouldn’t have been supportive, but no one you’d ever associated with ever met with his approval. He hadn’t liked your friends in New York. You weren’t sure you liked your friends in New York anymore, either.

Mom would’ve been more open-minded, though.

Dammit, you needed to call them.

It would still be foolish to call from Steve’s house. You could call from the hospital’s payphone again. You thought you remembered one in front of Bradley’s. With all the extra people Steve had been hosting and feeding, you assumed he needed groceries. A visit to Bradley’s would take care of both issues.

You changed into street clothes and slung your purse over your shoulder before heading downstairs. Steve and Robin sat at the kitchen island, chatting between spoonfuls of cereal. It reminded you of hearing their voices in the middle of the night. It made you miss Eddie even though he was only upstairs.

Greeting them with a soft “hey,” you volunteered to do a grocery run. Steve fumbled his spoon when you asked for a shopping list. Milk sloshed onto the counter. He wiped at the spill with the hem of his t-shirt.

Robin watched him with exasperation before fetching a paper towel.

“That shirt’s going to smell so bad tomorrow.”

He snatched the paper towel from her hand, saying, “You’re going to smell so bad tomorrow.”

“Real mature, dingus.”

He aimed a goofy sneer at her.

After cleaning the spill, he finished the shopping list and retrieved some cash. Robin offered money, but you and Steve refused to accept it. With their hours at Family Video reduced, and Robin’s parents making her pay for her band equipment, it didn’t feel right. You and Steve weren’t hurting for money, in any case.

“Remember, we’ll be gone by the time you get back,” he said, handing you the list and money.

You nodded and pocketed both. They were volunteering at the school, which was kind of them. It was also convenient for you since you’d probably argue with Eddie when you returned. He’d acted like a brat and deserved a spanking like one.

“Maybe I’ll join you two tomorrow?”

“That would be awesome,” said Robin, perking up and scooping soggy Cheerios from her bowl. “You can make meals with me and Vickie.”

“Cool.” You gave her a teasing look. “I want to meet Vickie and hear all about you two in Band.”

Robin blushed, hands fluttering. An arc of milk and cereal splashed across the counter.

Steve laughed, “God, Robin!”

“Shit, sorry!”

With a chuckle, you wished them a good day and left the kitchen. You didn’t want to be the next thing they flung milk on. As you crossed the living room, you noted Eddie’s closed door. That was fine by you. He should stay in there and chill the hell out.

On the drive to Bradley’s, you mulled over what to tell your parents. You couldn’t say you wanted to stay because of your boyfriend, who they didn’t know existed, or that said boyfriend was the accused cult leader everyone in town had been hunting. You couldn’t say you hated Hawkins, but the thought of leaving right now made you want to cry. And you certainly couldn’t say you were bunking with the flirty clerk from Family Video.

Bradley’s half-full parking lot was a strange sight for a Tuesday. With the ads in the windows exclaiming Two For Tuesday, you expected a swarm of shoppers. Then again, half of Hawkins had fled less than a week ago.

You bought two cans of generic soda from the machine out front with a couple of dollars. That supplied plenty of coins to make a long-distance call. You carried the sodas to the car. They’d be nice with lunch. Which was a meal. And Robin had invited you to volunteer making meals with her and Vickie.

Volunteering was a decent excuse to stay.

You deposited the sodas in the car’s drink holders and rushed to the payphone. After paying and dialing the Cincinnati number, the line rang twice before Mom answered. She sounded relieved to hear from you and asked after your car. It took you a second to recall the lie you’d left on their answering machine. You replied the radiator leak hadn’t been bad and had been repaired.

“Then when should we expect you?”

You sighed.

“I don’t want to come down to Cincinnati.”

Incredulous, she asked, “You want to stay in Hawkins?”

Your father’s voice rumbled in the background.

“Yes, actually,” you said. “I’m volunteering at the school. With friends.”

“The same friends you’re staying with?”

You nodded with a “yes.”

In reply, you got the swish of Mom putting her palm over the receiver. Your father’s voice sharpened, though you couldn’t make out his words. Mom responded, yet it didn’t sound like that pacified him.

You closed your eyes, waiting for him to grab the phone from her. Shaking your head, you realized preparing to be berated was something a previous version of yourself would’ve done.

“Mom.” When she didn’t answer, you said, “Mom.”

“Y-yes, honey? What is it?”

“I gotta go — I’m in the middle of a grocery run — but don’t worry about me. Everything’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll call you again, alright?”

“Honey… Where—? Your father—”

“No. I don’t care what he wants to yell about. I’m fine here. I’m safe, I promise. Just…” You took a stuttering breath. “I love you.”

She sighed.

“We love you, too.”

Your hand trembled as you placed the phone handset on the hook. A nickel dropped into the return slot. You never make anyone’s life easier, Vecna had said, using Eddie’s voice. You left it. The next person might need it. Besides, it was only a nickel. You turned to rest your back on the sun-warmed brick.

You’d done the right thing by staying. You were doing the right thing. It was the difficult thing, but you’d faced tougher. You weren’t some spoiled little rich girl who ran away from the aftermath. Even if it hurt — and it probably would. Even if Eddie left you — and it appeared as though he might.

You couldn’t worry about that right now. There were practical things to do. You felt like Scarlett O’Hara as you told yourself you’d think about the aftermath later.

Inside Bradley’s, shoppers and clerks spoke in hushed tones. Beeps from the checkouts didn’t carry beyond the cart corral. The quiet helped you concentrate on Steve’s shopping list. Item by item, you filled your cart, having to substitute skim milk for 2%, whole-wheat bread for white, and a carton of eighteen eggs instead of a dozen.

Steve had written ‘12 eggs,’ like you could buy them individually.

You huffed a laugh when turning into the ransacked paper aisle. The shelves for the industrial-sized packs of toilet paper were empty. That left you stepping onto the lowest shelf and struggling for the last two packs of the expensive floral-printed stuff at the back.

At the checkout, the clerk issued a rehearsed apology for the shortages. With the volcanic fissures now closed and road crews fixing the damage, they assured you shipments would start coming again soon. They helped bag your order since there weren’t enough baggers. They apologized for that, too.

You waved away their apologies and thanked them for their assistance. Because you weren’t an entitled person who didn’t appreciate a favor when it was offered.

Once the car’s trunk was loaded, you headed back to Steve’s. You didn’t know what you were going to say to Eddie about this morning, or how to broach the subject. He’d been dealing with so much stress. You understood that. You didn’t want to be another stressor. He needed to talk to you — or someone. He couldn’t just bottle up his emotions and get snippy when someone wasn’t mindful of his unspoken wishes.

As you made the left onto Cornwallis, an older truck paused at the stop sign on your right and followed you. You hoped they wouldn’t get aggressive when you slowed to get your bearings. You still weren’t used to the neighborhood. Something about it kept screwing with your sense of direction. Maybe it was how all the houses were set back from the road and obscured with manicured shrubs.

You recognized evergreen bushes and the u-shaped driveway of Steve’s house. You put on your turn signal. The truck did the same. You frowned at the rearview mirror, but pulled into the driveway. If the driver was some irrational, as your father had put it, country bumpkin, you’d make them regret tailing you.

You parked beside the enclosed carport and stepped out of the car, leaving your keys in the ignition and purse on the passenger seat. The truck stopped a few yards away. Sunlight glinted off its windshield. The engine went silent.

You stayed inside the vee of your open car door and waited for the driver to reveal themself.

The truck’s door creaked open, window reflecting the greenery of the front yard. Dusty work-boots hit the driveway. Something about them struck you as familiar. You studied the truck as you racked your mind for why.

The truck door clapped shut.

You gasped, eyes going wide. It was Eddie’s uncle, Wayne. He had a black eye and a shallow scratch at the top of his forehead, but otherwise appeared unharmed. You pushed the car door closed and hurried to him.

“Mr. Munson, oh my God! I didn’t— I’m so glad you’re okay!”

With a wry note in his voice, he said, “It’s good to see you, too.”

You offered your hands, which he grasped in his rougher ones. Tears prickled at your eyes. You hadn’t realized how on edge you’d been about Wayne’s absence until he was there.

You squeezed his hands, saying, “Eddie’s going to be thrilled to see you.”

He squeezed back as his expression softened, yet hardly shifted.

“Is he here?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded. “He’s okay. He’s been asking about you.”

Wayne hummed, sounding pleased. “After that girl was found… Well, I’m sure you know by now. And with the trailer park done split in two, I’ve been staying at the Motel 6.”

“Of course, that makes sense.”

“This Henderson boy said Eddie was in the hospital when I dropped by the school on Saturday, but then that eruption happened.” He gave you a knowing look. “Course, the hospital didn’t have a record of Eddie being there.” He harrumphed and gently released your hands. “Then this morning, Agent Stinson, the one that put me up at the Motel 6, paid me a visit and told me about my nephew recuperating here.”

You glanced at Eddie’s bedroom window.

“Please, come in,” you said, pivoting to show him inside. “I’ll take you to him.”

“I first have a favor to ask.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Will you help this old man get a few things from the truck?”

You grinned.

“Absolutely.”

He led you to the back of the truck. You gasped a second time in so many minutes. Three guitar cases lay in the truck bed. You put a hand on your tight chest.

“I didn’t want to leave ‘em with no one at home,” said Wayne.

He’d never given up on Eddie. Like you, he’d known Eddie was innocent. His days must’ve been horrible, full of waiting and dread. You couldn’t imagine the stares and comments he must’ve gotten at work.

“—fit the amps, but I know these mean more.”

You nodded, feeling like a bobblehead doll as you blinked back tears.

“Whoa, hey now, don’t cry.”

You tried to reply you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come.

Wayne put a strong arm around your shoulders, grounding you. His faded denim jacket smelled of tobacco.

The guitars were just objects and could be replaced, of course, but Wayne was right: they meant something. You’d bet Eddie had resigned himself to replacing them. Coming to terms with that must’ve hurt.

You shook your head at the good fortune, then gave Wayne a smile. Now, Eddie wouldn’t have to go through that.

It took you a few tries, but you finally said, “He’s going to lose it when he sees you and these.”

“Eh, I reckon more for the guitars than me.”

You laughed as Wayne lowered the tailgate. He handed you the acoustic case and bossed around the two electrics. You closed the tailgate for him and led the way into the house. Television noise came from the open basement door.

In the living room, you and Wayne had a hushed conversation about leaving the guitars there. He wanted to surprise Eddie. You loved the idea and propped the acoustic against a sofa arm. Wayne added the electrics next to it before following you to the top of the stairs.

“Eddie?” you called.

“Yeah?”

“You have a visitor.”

“What? Who?”

You stepped to the side, giving Wayne access to the stairs. Eddie choked out something when Wayne was halfway down. You leaned on the doorframe, biting your grinning lip, waiting for their first exchange. However, it was quiet. You snuck a glance. Eddie’s arms were around Wayne, and Wayne’s around him. His fingers dug into Wayne’s jacket.

You closed the door to allow them privacy.

Taking a step towards the guitars, you remembered the groceries thawing in your car. That was unlocked. With the key in the ignition. And your purse in the passenger seat.

You dashed to the car and began unloading it. The kitchen counters filled with bags. Each trip obscured the counters until brown paper surrounded you.

By the time you finished stocking the refrigerator and pantry, Eddie and Wayne had emerged from the basement. Eddie’s excited voice came from the living room, making you smile. You padded to the doorway to watch the second reunion. Eddie knelt in front of the red guitar’s open case.

Wayne said to him the same thing he’d told you: he couldn’t abandon the guitars.

Wordlessly, Eddie nodded and stood. He hugged Wayne again, murmuring something into his shoulder. Wayne put a hand on the back of Eddie’s head and ruffled his hair as he replied. Eddie laughed with a sniffle.

You ducked your head and crossed your arms. If you saw him cry, you’d cry. Then Wayne would be stuck in a house of the emotionally compromised.

When Eddie and Wayne separated, you cleared your throat to make your presence known. Eddie beamed at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. Wayne was more restrained, but he appeared just as happy.

“Mr. Munson, would you like to stay for lunch?” you asked.

“I’d like that, but I can’t. The plant’s understaffed, and I’m workin’ a double.”

Eddie wilted, but you didn’t want him to give up hope. He needed something to look forward to.

You asked, “Maybe on a day off?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at Eddie. “My Friday’s free.”

“Come for lunch,” said Eddie.

“Yeah, stay as long as you want. Stay for dinner.” Raising your eyebrows at Eddie, you said, “We can invite the rest of the party. Make it a potluck.”

“I think we better run that by Steve first.”

“Like he’ll refuse.”

Eddie conceded the point with an agreeable shrug.

To Wayne, he said, “Steve’s got cable downstairs. There’s at least one sports channel.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a good enough reason to return.”

Eddie barked a laugh and knocked his elbow against Wayne’s. He then turned to Wayne and perched his chin on the back of his hands, blinking owlishly.

“You mean my spectacular personality isn’t reason enough?”

Wayne said drily, “Your personality is a spectacle, alright.”

Eddie laughed again. Wayne’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips curved into a private grin.

After a moment, Wayne said, “Well, I best be off.”

“Thank you for coming by,” you said.

Eddie nodded.

“Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime.”

You heard the love in that one word. Eddie must’ve heard it as well, because his face softened. It was easy to forget his sharp smile and smart-ass remarks and big personality masked a tender heart.

As you thought it, you asked, “Do you have the phone number here?”

“No, ma’am.”

You hurried into the kitchen, found the pad of paper Steve used for the shopping list, and wrote the number. When you came out with a pad and pen, Wayne and Eddie stood in the foyer. You tore off the top sheet and asked for the motel’s number.

“Just in case plans change,” you said.

After trading numbers, you saw Wayne off. Eddie followed him down the front stairs while you remained in the doorway. Once in the truck, Wayne held up a hand in goodbye before reversing down the driveway.

As soon as Wayne’s truck was out of sight, Eddie brushed past you without meeting your eyes. You closed the door and trailed after him into the living room.

“You want to talk about this morning?”

“What’s there to talk about?” he asked, kneeling in front of the guitars and closing the red’s case.

“Well, geez, I don’t know.” You put your hands on your hips. “Maybe how you brushed me off?”

He laid the acoustic case flat and paused with his hands on top.

“I didn’t ‘brush you off.’ I didn’t want to talk about fucking Jason Carver, okay?”

“That wasn’t the point.”

“No, that is the point. He wouldn’t have targeted you if I’d left you alone from the start.”

You narrowed your eyes at his back. That was a crappy excuse. And still not the point.

“Why did you say it was good my parents had left town so I wouldn’t have to introduce you?”

“I don’t know, alright? Everything got screwed up.” His hands balled into fists. “I know part of it’s my fault.” He shook his head as his shoulders hunched. “I can’t undo it, so… It’s whatever.”

You huffed a breath through your nose.

“It’s whatever?” Letting your hands drop to your sides, you said, “Me being serious about you, about wanting my parents to know you, is not whatever.”

He muttered, “They wouldn’t have liked me, anyway.”

“Maybe not, but I’d make them respect my choice.” You tried to breathe with a too-tight chest. “Because I choose you. It sucks that doesn’t seem to mean a lot to you.”

You didn’t wait for a reply and headed into the kitchen. There were empty grocery bags to deal with. You folded and stacked them on the island while swallowing around the lump in your throat.

If Steve’s parents were anything like your own, there was a stash of empty grocery bags somewhere around here. You found a bag of bags in the pantry — something you’d missed a few times. Of course, you missed it. You’d missed plenty of things these past few days, evidently, but you wouldn’t cry over them. Not now. Not in Steve’s pantry. You added the new bags to the collection, then closed the pantry door.

You turned and startled at Eddie dawdling in the kitchen doorway.

“I choose you too, you know,” he said, fingers playing with nonexistent rings. “And it does mean a lot to me — that you’re serious about me. I’m serious about you, too.”

You nodded, voice constrained by the sudden stranglehold of too many emotions.

“I’m going to go upstairs now.”

You nodded again, though you didn’t like it.

He shifted from foot to foot before leaving the doorway. His faint footsteps disappeared from the first floor. All the while, you mentally screamed for him to come back. You didn’t need him to say more. He just needed to stay. Maybe to make lunch with you, though the idea of eating turned your stomach. However, you wanted to do something dumb, something mundane, with him, like make lunch and drink the cheap sodas you’d bought.

Instead, you trudged into the sunroom and flumped into one of the armless chairs.

[withlove-amber]

Not Out of My League

alden parker x reader

‘Undercover. Great.’ (Y/N) thought as she heard the news that Parker and herself were to be going undercover as a rich couple, at some party that a suspect would be present at. It’s not that (Y/N) didn’t like going undercover for a case, but it wasn’t her favorite thing to do. (Y/N) has had a crush on Parker since he took over as team lead, and only Jessica and Kasie knew about it. As soon as Jessica heard about the op, she immediately went to (Y/N)’s desk and left a note saying, ‘you should finally tell him’. Parker didn’t mean to read the note from Jessica on (Y/N)’s desk, but it was next to the stack of paperwork he needed for the op.

‘Tell who?’ Parker thought. He secretly hoped it was him, whom the note was referring to. He has had a crush on (Y/N) since he took over as team lead. He knew he shouldn’t, but there was just something in the way she has compassion for everyone she meets, she’s always up for helping Kasie and Jimmy with whatever they need, and her overall gentle demeanor. And don’t get him started on how she looks when she’s holding a gun. Beautiful and badass. Parker hoped not a lot of people knew about it, but he had a sneaking suspicion Vance knew when he picked (Y/N) to be his undercover wife. Parker was so nervous, which is highly unlike him, but little did he know that (Y/N) was just as nervous. 

(Y/N) didn’t have anything close to what she needed for the op, so she borrowed a dress from Jessica, which just so happened to be the one she wore to the wedding with Jimmy. (Y/N) tried it on in Kasie’s lab and she looked and felt incredible. She felt like Mrs. Smith, and it was wonderful knowing that Parker would be her Mr. Smith. But what she wasn’t expecting was for Parker to look so damn fine in a tux. After she had finished getting ready for the op, (Y/N) made her way to the bullpen to go over everything one last time. The first thing she saw when she entered the room was Parker. And without thinking, said, “Hot damn.” Everyone’s attention went to her, including Parker’s. ‘Great, (Y/N). Just great.’ (Y/N) thought to herself as Jessica and Nick smirked at her sudden outburst. 

The op went smoothly, and the suspect was taken into custody. When they got back to the office, they were surprised to find Delilah sitting with Tim and Jessica. “So, how was your night, (Y/N)? Anything good happen?” Delilah said, trying not to laugh. “Yes Delilah, it was great. Thank you. How was yours?” (Y/N) responded, knowing that she was bright red at this point. “It was fine.” Delilah replied. (Y/N) said she needed to change out of the dress and give it back to Jessica, but in reality, she just needed to take a minute and decompress after the case. 

(Y/N) thought of how his hand never left her body. From a gentle touch on the small of her back while they walked through the crowd, to a hand on her thigh, rubbing gentle circles over and over and over again. She never wanted him to stop. What she didn’t know, was that Alden didn't have to pretend he’s absolutely head-over-heels for her. He is absolutely head-over-heels for her. 

(Y/N) felt better after changing and headed back up to the bullpen. She didn’t mean to overhear the current conversation, but it was happening right as she quietly walked in. The only thing she heard was Parker saying, “I just don’t know what to do. I mean, at a certain point tonight, I didn’t have to pretend I love her. I do love her. I love (Y/N), and I don’t know how to tell her.” Tim felt (Y/N)’s presence in the bullpen, but didn’t say anything, because he knew that both Parker and (Y/N) needed to hear it. “You just did.” Tim said, gesturing towards (Y/N). 

(Y/N) couldn’t believe what she just heard. The man she’s been in love with for months, not only feels the same, but he said it outloud. (Y/N) walked up to Parker, and shyly asked, “Is it true? Do you really…?” At first, Parker was scared he overstepped and made (Y/N) uncomfortable. He never wanted to make her uncomfortable. In a moment of bravery, he said, “Yes. All of it. I love you, so much. And you don’t have to say it back or feel the same-” (Y/N) cut him off with a passionate kiss. He very enthusiastically returned the kiss, and he broke the kiss to say, “Wait, you really feel the same way? I always thought you were out of my league.” “Out of your- I always thought you were out of my league.” (Y/N) said with a slight chuckle. 

Jessica interrupted the moment by saying, “Go home you two! And if you need to take the day, we understand.” she said with a wink. “Goodnight!” Parker and (Y/N) said, practically sprinting to the elevator, hand-in-hand. And they did have a magnificent night, and they might have taken the day. It would be a bit awkward to explain to Vance why they both called in sick, but neither of them cared in the moment.