#he cracks me up so bad in thunder he has to deal with more bullshit

[amethyst-halo]

he's SO funny

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Not Enough

has anyone else just wanted Danny to go completely fucking feral at Dash? anyone?

yeah me too

this is some truly self-indulgent shit y'all

"Hey Fenton!"

Danny slammed his locker shut, sighing as Dash clapped him roughly on the shoulder.

"I'm throwin' a huge ass Halloween party this weekend, ghosts are all about Halloween right? You should totally come!"

It wasn't the first party Danny had been invited to since being outed as Phantom, but somehow Dash didn't seem to get the hint that he wasn't even remotely interested.

"No." Danny snapped, he threw his bag over his shoulder and turned his back on Dash, walking away without another word.

"What's your problem?"

Danny stopped, turning back around with a face of utter disdain.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been trying to be nice, but all you do is just brush me off! Like you can't even pretend to be busy or something?"

Danny stared, mouth halfway open as he tried to find the words to respond.

"Are you actually serious?" he finally choked out, almost too bewildered to be angry.

Almost.

"You're not still mad about all that stuff from before right?" Dash asked. "Like, I don't even do that shit anymore, it's over."

"Is it?" Danny's eyes flashed brightly and Dash took a half step back as the air went cold. "Because I'm pretty sure it was just yesterday that I pulled Mikey out of his locker."

"Well, yeah but that was Mikey." Dash laughed. "C'mon man, I wouldn't do that to you. We're totally cool now, so why you gotta keep blowing me off? You talk to Kwan like it's not big deal, and he used to wail on you all the time!"

Danny took a deep, slow breath, then another.

"Have you considered that maybe it's because I don't like you?" Danny said through gritted teeth.

Dash huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground.

"Look, I get it, I was a jerk, but it's over! I'm actually trying to be nice, now you're the one being an asshole."

Danny looked as though he'd been slapped.

"You're such a fucking idiot Dash." Said Danny, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. "You can't just treat someone like shit every single day for two years and then expect them to get over it because you invited them to a few parties."

"Then how come Kwan gets to hang out with you?" Dash could feel his face heating up. "You're just gonna let him off the hook? That's not fair!"

"HE APOLOGISED!"

In one thunderous moment, every locker in the hallway slammed open, sending papers and books flying across the floor. The few students still packing up their things got the fuck out of dodge, whether this was a ghost thing or a Fenton thing (was there even a difference at this point?) they wanted no part of it.

Dash couldn't move, his feet felt heavy, he wasn't entirely sure if Danny had done something to him with his ghost powers, or if he was just afraid.

Because he was certainly afraid.

Even after everyone found out, Danny still didn't use his powers at school unless it was a ghost emergency. He didn't use them for pranks, didn't use them to get even, didn't even use them to show off.

But he was sure as hell using them now, and Dash suddenly realised why he was always holding himself back.

He was terrifying.

Danny took a few steps forward, stopping barely an arm's length away from where Dash was rooted to the spot, trembling.

"Kwan apologised to me." He said, quietly this time. "He apologised to my friends, he even apologised to some other kids, and when I told him that I wasn't ready to forgive him, he accepted that and left me alone until I was ready to talk to him again."

Dash wanted to speak, but he couldn't seem to make his brain form the words he needed, it was too busy buzzing with danger run danger get out run run RUN.

"You made every single day of my life miserable for two whole fucking years, and that isn't even counting the bullshit you pulled in middle school. How do you feel right now Dash? Does it scare you to be around me? Does it scare you to be at the mercy of someone that you know damn well can hurt you?" Danny leant in, grabbing a fistful of letterman jacket. "I hope it does, because now maybe you'll have an idea what it was like for me going to school every fucking day knowing that you would be there, ready and waiting to hurt me. Every single FUCKING day."

Dash found himself being thrown backwards, his feet finally able to move again as he caught himself.

"I'm s-sor-sorry." he mumbled, his lips felt numb and tingly and his head swam with panic as he struggled to get the words out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Danny's voice cracked, his face wasn't twisted in rage anymore, his eyes were blue once again, and shining with tears. "Are you really sorry for hurting me? Or are you just sorry that the guy you were beating the shit out of turned out to be Phantom?"

"I didn't... I didn't know." Dash gasped out, he could barely hear his own words, all he could hear was his own heart beating loudly in his ears as he struggled to draw in breath. "I didn't know it was like that, I just thought-"

Thought what? What had he thought? That he wasn't really hurting anyone? That it wasn't that big a deal?

No, he hadn't thought that, because he hadn't thought at all.

"And you're gonna stand here and tell me I'm an asshole." Danny was almost sobbing as he raggedly spat out each word. "Because I won't forgive you for something you never even apologised for. This is the first time you even acknowledged that you were an absolute jerk to me, and you followed it up by demanding that I just get over it."

Dash stared down at the floor, it sounded terrible when Danny put it like that.

"I wasn't... demanding anything." he said, he was embarrassed by how whiny he sounded. "I was just trying to make it up to you, I was trying, I just thought... it's not fair that I can't have second chance. I was trying so hard and all I wanted was a second chance-"

"I DON'T CARE." Danny's eyes were screwed up tight, but it didn't stop the tears of fury from pouring down his cheeks, his voice so shredded with pain it was barely recognisable. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU. I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT. I DON'T OWE YOU A SECOND CHANCE. I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING. YOU FUCKED ME UP AND YOU. CAN'T. FIX IT."

Dash didn't know what to do. Danny was openly sobbing, his breaths came out in grunts as he couldn't hold the rage and misery back.

He was still standing within arm's reach, Dash cautiously put out a hand, to comfort him? He wasn't sure, but he barely brushed Danny's shoulder before Dash found himself spinning violently and his cheekbone exploded with sudden pain as he hit the floor. Cold hands drew away from him roughly.

"DON'T TOUCH ME." Danny screamed. "DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN."

Dash watched as Danny grabbed his backpack and his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

It was over, just like that it was over.

Dash sat up and touched his face, he wasn't bleeding but he knew it would bruise pretty bad. It hurt, he would be squinting through one eye for a few days.

Danny could have done this to him at any time, he could have done it to him every day if he wanted, and maybe he would, now that he'd done it once.

The thought made Dash feel cold as dread pooled in his stomach.

The next day Dash told people he'd gotten his black eye from playing football, his team knew it wasn't true, but they didn't ask. He kept his eye out for Danny, wondering if he would pop up invisibly and knock him off his feet, or drag him through the floor, or hit him when nobody was looking.

He clung to Kwan's side all day, afraid to be alone.

Phantom could be anywhere, he could get him anywhere, if he wanted to hurt Dash nobody would be able to stop him.

Nobody had been able to stop Dash, and he didn't even have superpowers.

But in the end, nothing happened.

Dash went through the day untouched. Danny didn't even look his way. Not once. He just acted like yesterday never happened.

But it did happen, Dash still had the bruise on his cheek, and the terror set deep in his bones.

In the following days, weeks, months, Danny still never touched him, never looked at him, never talked to him. Dash realised that Danny probably wasn't going to do anything else after all, that maybe he hadn't even meant to hurt him in the first place.

He was a hero after all, he protected people, even people he didn't like. The only time he had ever come into contact with Dash again was to haul him out of the way of a ghost, and he did so with the same care as he would with anyone else.

Danny wasn't like him, he didn't gloat about hurting him, he didn't revel in the fact that Dash was scared of him. He just went about his day, acting for all the world like Dash didn't even exist.

Dash never gave him a true apology, it was clear Danny didn't want one, it was far too late for that.

It left Dash with a sick feeling of unfulfillment. He understood now what Danny had been going through, the pain, the terror, he wanted Danny to know that he was truly sorry, that he really had changed this time.

But he couldn't, because forcing an unwanted apology on him would just make Dash the asshole all over again, he was trying to steal a forgiveness that he could never have.

So he had to find his closure somewhere else.

He stopped picking on Mikey, and Nathan, and all of the other nerds he frequently hassled. He even tried apologising to them, some forgave him, others didn't, and he had to be okay with that. He struggled not to lash out, it still felt unfair, the world had always told him that you were supposed to forgive people when they apologised. It always happened that way on tv, in the cartoons he grew up watching. The mean kid would apologise, the other kids would forgive him, and they would all become friends.

He was realising that the real world was a whole lot more complicated than that, he didn't earn forgiveness just because apologising was hard, he was learning fast that he didn't earn any brownie points for taking responsibility for his actions. He was just doing what any decent person should.

It took him a while to come to terms with that, to stop being angry at people for not letting him make it up to them. For not letting him prove that he had changed.

All it took was to occasionally pass by Danny in the hallways for him to cool his jets and think more clearly. To remind him that he was the bad guy, he was the one who hurt people, that his victims did not owe him anything.

In his last year of school, he had found himself watching the juniors below him falling into the same behaviours, the same struggle for power and control. Pushing other kids around without so much as sparing a thought to how it made them feel.

After a lengthy chat with Mr Lancer, Dash was given permission to pull out younger students from detention one day a week. He would talk to them, ask about their lives, ask about their feelings. He would ask why they lashed out, why they thought it was okay to treat people that way. Most of them didn't have an answer, or simply refused to give one, but he would push, he wouldn't let them hide in ignorance like he did.

Some of them did feel guilt for the way they treated people, and they only needed someone they could talk to who could understand what they were going through, so they wouldn't take it out on whoever was around at the time.

Others would take more effort, they need a far stronger push in the right direction, they were defensive and combative, selfish and unapologetic.

Dash had been one of those kids, he knew they would be hard work, but he did his best. He couldn't help all of them, some were simply unwilling to change.

So he contacted the school-board, he pushed for better protection for students, more programs to help troubled kids, he volunteered to keep running his own counselling groups even after he graduated.

It still never felt like enough.

After graduation he turned down his favoured college to attend one closer to home so he could continue his volunteer work. He joined petitions and rallies for change across entire school districts, he spoke at other schools' anti-bullying campaigns. He'd attended enough of them in his own childhood that he knew they did next to nothing, but it gave him the opportunity to reach out to kids for one on one support.

He found more volunteers for his counselling groups, he helped people start them up in other local schools. It was a lot of work, especially when he was also juggling his college studies. He was taking a major in psychology, it was brutal, Dash had never been good at studying, but he'd decided that this was what he needed to do, this was important to him.

It still wasn't enough.

It would come at him in the night, as soon as he laid his head down on his pillow. He would see the faces of all the kids he hurt, it felt so much worse the older he got, they just looked younger and younger every time the memories came back to plague him.

He had beat the shit out of children. Kids who were the same age as the students he now counselled. He beat them until they were bloody or bruised, he shoved them into lockers, pulled pranks that humiliated them in front of the whole school, and he had laughed.

He'd laughed at their pain.

When the guilt weighed him down, he would begin searching for new programs to volunteer for, new petitions or rallies to get behind, always finding another way to help protect kids like Danny from kids like him.

And to protect kids like him from doing things that would one day haunt them.

He had spread himself thin across every school in the district, barely keeping afloat at college, but it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

Kids still slipped through the cracks, schools were still too lenient, there were too many kids, not enough volunteers.

Casper High was holding another anti-bullying assembly. It had been a few years since Dash had attended one at his old school. This year they had excitedly announced that they'd even secured an appearance from Phantom himself.

Dash's blood ran cold, his hands shook as he went over his notes, he was slated to do his speech alongside Phantom's, they would be sharing the stage for a solid 75 minutes, barely a few feet from one another.

When Danny showed up he was already in Phantom form, Dash spotted him discussing emergency exit plans with one of the organisers in the event of a ghost attack.

He was so different from when they were in school.

He was tall, and broad, he stood with confidence and had a good natured charm to him. He was a hero, he was strong, he was brave. He could fight monsters ten times his size with a smirk and a witty one liner. He could take on anything, he wasn't afraid of anything.

He was a kid, running down a hallway, screaming words that still pierced through Dash's mind every time he saw the hero's face.

"DON'T TOUCH ME."

Dash's hands clenched around his notes, shaking so violently that they barely even looked like words.

"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN."

"Dash?"

A deep voice cut through the chaos in Dash's mind as cold hands closed over his tremblings ones.

"It's good to see you again."

Phantom was smiling at him, his hands still closed around Dash's.

"Good... good to see you too." Dash mumbled, not able to meet the man's eyes.

Phantom paused before releasing Dash's hands.

"I've heard all about your work." Phantom grinned as Dash finally looked up and met his eyes.

"Yeah." he said, and then before his mind could catch up with his mouth, he blurted out, "I'm sorry, for everything."

Phantom's eyebrows rose for a moment, before he gave a gentle smile and clapped a hand on Dash's shoulder.

"I know." he said warmly. "Thank you."

They gave their speeches, Dash had told his story many times before, the victim that he'd pushed to breaking point, the boy whose words drove the change that made him the man he had become.

For the first time ever, that boy was listening.

After the assembly had packed up and the volunteers were heading home, it was Danny Fenton who approached Dash and asked if he wanted to go grab a beer together.

Dash thought it would be rather awkward, but Danny had plenty of experience socialising with the public, awkwardness slid right off him, and soon enough Dash found himself laughing alongside Danny as he told a story about the new misadventures of the Box Ghost.

He returned to his dorm that night, head still swimming from one too many beers, and he had the best sleep of his life.

He pulled back on some of his volunteer work, hunting for new people to take his place as he focused on college. He was falling far behind, but he would work hard to make his way back. As a volunteer he could only do so much, but with the right education and training, he could do so much more.

The guilt still haunted him, every so often when the pressure and the stress weighed heavy, it would creep back into his mind. It would probably never go away, not entirely, but at least now he had his closure.

Finally, it was enough.

[the-bau-quinjet]

I've Always Loved the Rain

Summary: Request! Y/N can manipulate the weather, but sometimes her emotions get the best of her. What happens when Bucky brings his girlfriend to Tony's garden party?

Warnings: nothing except some angst!

Word Count: 2086

a/n: I really did have fun writing this! Thank you for sending it my way :)

Masterlist

"Are you ever going to tell him?" Wanda's thoughts appeared in your head causing your head to snap in her direction. "You've been staring at him for the past ten minutes."

"Actually, it's only been 8 minutes. And, no. I do not plan to ever tell him because that would be wildly embarrassing, and he would hate me forever." Your own thoughts were easily heard by the witch.

Before she could try to convince you, you got up and left the living room. You and Bucky have been friends since you joined the team. Everyone, barring Bucky, has told you how you must be special because Bucky has never trusted anyone as quickly as he started trusting you.

There may have even been a point where you thought he could've possibly returned your feelings, but that was before he started dating Perrie.

"Y/N, you can't keep running away from me." Wanda called out as she approached your room.

"I'm not running. I just have get ready for Tony's party." You rolled your eyes. You've never been one for parties, but you'd rather just go than have to deal with Tony complaining about you missing it.

"Oh, you mean the party Perrie is going to?" Wanda questioned from your doorway.

"Shut up! Someone could hear you." You quickly pulled her into the room, glancing down the hall before closing the door. "I don't care that she's coming. It's fine."

"I know you're pouting, even if you refuse to look at me." Wanda obviously saw right through your bullshit.

"Wan, he's my friend. I just want him to be happy, and if Perrie makes him happy then so be it." You resigned yourself to having to watch Bucky and Perrie together. "Just, promise me you won't say anything."

You nearly begged her, knowing she didn't agree with your method of bottling everything up.

"You're my friend. I want you to be happy too." She tried to avoid your request.

"Wanda, please." You nearly had tears in your eyes. You couldn't make it through this party if Bucky knew about your feelings. "I can't think about it. Tony will kill me if I ruin his perfect weather."

You joined the Avengers after Steve and Nat found you during one of their missions. You saw the two of them trying to sneak into a hydra base, but they had no way of approaching without being spotted.

In a moment of bravery, or stupidity really it could've gone either way, you ran up to them and offered to help. You managed to create enough of a storm that they could get inside without being noticed.

When they came back out, they offered for you to join them figuring someone who could manipulate the weather would be a good teammate to have.

"Oh, Y/N." She pulled you into a hug in an effort to comfort you. "I won't bring it up, I promise." She squeezed you tightly before letting go. "Now, let's pick out an outfit that'll have Barnes regretting not asking you out."

You shook your head at her playful laugh, but agreed with her nonetheless. If this is what it took for her to stay quiet, you'd do it.

-

The sun was still high in the sky when you made it out to join the party. Summer nights always seemed to last forever, the sun not fully setting until nearly 9.

A few clouds dusted the sky, but Tony really did have the perfect weather for his garden party.

You looked around, trying to locate a familiar face. Finally spotting Nat and Wanda, you made your way through the gardens to greet them.

"Y/N, you look incredible!" Nat cheered as you approached.

Wanda convinced you to wear a pale purple two piece set. The classy lace outer layer of your skirt fell to mid calf, the lining ending just above your knee. The top was cropped to end mid stomach. Perfectly matching the skirt, a form fitting lining was covered in a flowy lace layer.

"Thank you. You both look amazing, as usual." Nat wore a black midi dress with a slit. Wanda opted for a flowery yellow dress with buttons up the middle.

You fell into an easy conversation, discussing anything and everything you could think of to keep your mind busy.

"Ladies, looking good!" Sam complimented the three of you as he, Steve, and Vision approached. Vision immediately swept Wanda away to dance.

"You're not so bad yourself, Wilson." You laughed. "Steve, you're very dapper this evening."

"Thank you. Care to dance?" Steve held his hand out for you. Knowing Sam was seconds away from convincing Nat to dance with him, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn't help but smile as he lead you around the dance floor Tony had set up. The party had been going surprisingly well so far.

"You really do look amazing tonight." Steve broke the silence, smiling down at you.

"You're too sweet." You brushed it off, looking over his shoulder as you blushed.

"I mean it." He spun you around, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.

Your smile fell when you spotted Bucky and Perrie by the bar. He wore khakis and a pink button up, something you were certain Perrie picked out to match her pink chiffon dress.

You were shocked to find his eyes on you. He looked sort of angry, but you hadn't the slightest idea why.

"I don't know what Bucky's doing with her." Steve followed your line of sight, commenting on the couple.

"He's happy." You turned away from Bucky, heart aching just from looking at the two of them together. You tried to mask the pain in your voice, but Steve saw through it.

"He's not. He might think he is, but Perrie... she's not right for him."

"What do you mean?" You shouldn't have asked, but you craved more information about Bucky.

"She just doesn't understand him. Not like you do." Steve's words hurt you more than they helped.

"Steve, he chose her." You could feel the tears brewing. You didn't notice as the sky got darker and darker. "I have to go."

You turned to walk away from Steve and the conversation only to walk directly into Perrie.

"I'm so sorry!' You quickly wiped your eyes, avoiding the concerned look Bucky was giving you. He lightly grabbed your elbow when you tried to walk past them

"Y/N?" The way he said your name had you frozen. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I, um, I have to go." You pulled your arm from his grasp, again trying to get away.

"No, Y/N-" Bucky's plea for you to talk to him was cut off by Perrie.

"James, we're supposed to be dancing." She whined, pulling on his right arm.

"It's fine, Bucky." Your face contorted into a tight smile. "Dance with your girlfriend." Your vision blurred as you tried to push your way through the crowd.

Nat found you first, pulling you off to the side of the party and gesturing for Wanda to join you both.

"Y/N, what happened?" Natasha tried to coax any bit of information out of you. You ignored the question, focusing instead on trying to control your tears.

Your powers, although you could mostly control them, were tied to your emotions. If what you were feeling manifested itself in the weather, it was almost impossible for you to regain control.

One tear finally fell from your eyes, a matching raindrop falling from the sky.

"Y/N? Why don't we go inside?" You managed a nod, breaths coming out shaky as you tried not to completely lose control.

You were only a few steps from the main entrance to the gardens when everything fell apart.

"Y/N?" Bucky called from a few feet behind you.

Just the sound of his voice caused the delicate balance you had achieved to shatter.

Your tears overflowed, thunder cracking in the sky. The thought of ruining Tony's part only made you cry harder.

The rain fell fast and heavy instantly soaking everyone outside. You stayed frozen, listening as everyone shrieked and ran to get out of the rain.

"You guys should go inside." You spoke softly to Nat and Wanda, gesturing for them to go without you.

"Are you sure?" Nat looked past you at Bucky before meeting your eyes again.

You nodded. "I mean, I'm already soaked." The rain continued to fall mixing with the tears on your cheeks.

They each gave you a quick hug before running to get inside.

"Y/N?" Bucky called again when you still hadn't turned around.

You took a deep breath trying to prepare for this conversation before you turned to face him. He was soaked, his hair sticking to his face despite his efforts to push it off.

"I'm sorry." You whispered so softly, you weren't even sure he could hear it over the rain.

"Don't do that." Bucky shook his head.

"What?" You scrunched your face in confusion.

"Apologize for your feelings." He spoke gently as he walked up to you.

You huffed a laugh. "Well, I was more so apologizing for the rain."

"I've always loved the rain." He shrugged, turning his head up to the sky. He stayed like that for a minute just letting the rain wash over him.

"I think I've always loved you." More tears fell as you admitted the truth. You closed your eyes in an effort to hide from his reaction.

"Y/N, look at me." Bucky pleaded, but you squeezed your eyes shut tighter and shook your head.

"Y/N, please." His hand came up to rest on your cheek, the other resting on your waist. He ran his thumb back and forth over your cheek coaxing you to open your eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open despite your best efforts to keep them closed. You had to blink a few times to clear the raindrops from your eyelashes.

"I love you too."

You searched his eyes for any signs that he was lying, but all you could find was sincerity.

"What about Perrie?" You couldn't help but ask, even if you'd rather forget about her entirely.

"I broke up with her the second she whined about me trying to make sure you were okay."

"You broke up with her because of me?" Your mouth fell open, eyes trained on Bucky's. He nodded sheepishly, but maintained eye contact.

"You're the most important person in the world to me. I probably should've realized what that meant sooner." He looked down, a pink tint blossoming on his cheeks. "She was actually the one who pointed out to me that I'm in love with you..."

"She said that?" Your jaw dropped even farther.

"Yeah. It was really Steve agreeing with her that clued me in though."

"You really love me?" You felt the need to verify what you had already heard. The rain lessening to a slight drizzle went unnoticed by both of you.

"I really, really do." He still held your face in his hand, now leaning his forehead against your own.

"Say it again." You whispered.

"I love you." He said the words quietly, but the meaning behind them was deafening.

"I love you too."

Your lips collided in a passionate kiss, years of hidden emotion coming out.

The rain clouds disappeared entirely, the sun set now visible in bright shades of pink and orange.

You finally pulled back when the need for air overcame your need for Bucky.

Your smile faded slightly, eyes showing a slight fear. Bucky noticed immediately, his own nerves growing.

"What's wrong?"

You gestured to the now empty gardens.

Aside from everything being soaked, the wind did a number on the decorations. Tables and chairs were overturned, plates and glasses smashed on the ground. The lanterns that had been hung were now strew across the ground in various states of destruction.

"Tony's going to be so mad at me!"

"He'll forgive you." Bucky stated with confidence.

"How can you be so sure?" You eyed him with furrowed brows, still nervous about facing Tony.

"He's forgiven worse, Doll. Trust me." Bucky eagerly awaited the moment you understood what he was saying.

Your eyes went wide, mind blanking on how to respond. That is, until Bucky smiled brightly at you.

"You've always told me joking about it can help. Figured I'd give it a try."

The two of you burst out laughing before slowly making your way inside, hand in hand and soaking wet.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

[mrstsung]

⚡💙Raiden sfw abc hcs💙⚡

Cw: none really,it's pretty tame. uwu

These are just my personal interpretations. So plz don't shoot the messenger ok? It took me a couple of days to write this up. Because I've been doing other writing and kontent creating. Oof.

💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?): Raiden is more physically affectionate in private than in public or in front of others. However he isn't above holding hands,an arm around yours or your waist. Gentle but respectful praises and soft and knowing glances are what you'll get the most of. It's not that he isn't affectionate or is embarrassed to say i love you. Far from it. He just wants to keep his composure. Especially since i hc he is a hella empath and gets overwhelmed by his emotions sometimes. As a god of thunder and lightning this is especially important. Especially being a protector of earthrealm too. But his most trusted friends and allies. They know. They know the real raiden. Him a softie. He just has to put a front to deal with the bullshit and burdens. Tho he will let you be physically affectionate if that truly is your love language.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?): oh raiden is the bestest friend you could ask for. He is a big bro type. Honestly any relationship may or may not be started by training under him in general or being protected by him specifically. (Which is how my au self insert starts out. She is a warrior mortal chosen by the elder gods to help give raiden aid and grounding.)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?): raiden is hella cuddly. He loves to hold you from behind with his arms around you. He feels more protective of you this way. His other fave way,is to have you lay on his chest with one arm around you. Either way he's holding onto you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?): of course raiden does. But only if you are absolutely certain you are comfortable with knowing the fact that he,will indeed,outlive you. (I assume you are mortal. So yeah) but i assumed you already know the drill beforehand anyways. Raiden is fair with chores. But he doesn't usually need to do so as most of it's taken care of before you even think about it. Being a god has benefits. But he still prefers to do it himself.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?): oh honey why? Why would you ever wanna do that?! But if he had to it would be hella formal but you can hear a crack under his voice. Truly only way i can see this truly happening is by death because like hell I'd let it get that bad. But knowing raiden he would probably wanna do it to protect me. But again raiden has his brother and allies to help too. So this wouldn't likely happen. So again only death would separate you. But oooooh boy would it hurt like hell for raiden either way. Also why do you want this to happen again?

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?): ok look raiden WANTS to as soon as love strikes hard at the god of thunder. But he may take a while to get the guts to even get to that point. Because of his fears,his walls,and honestly i feeeeeel raiden deeply on that shit. Being an empath sucks sometimes but it's a gift too. But once he gets over himself. Oh he's in for life. Or as long as yours is that is. Marriage to a god is quite an event. This means you have a choice to either be a muse(a lesser power but more or less a partial of raidens power would be also connected to you. You has long life as well but you are still mortal. Muses can be connected to anyone mortal or gods they kind just follow them around as a retainer. They can travel to any realm and not lose powers but they are stronger in their main realm however) a kami (higher up than a muse. You will be immortal like a god but have heavier responsibilities and a tad less freedom than a muse. But you only have 3 domains at max. And one realm only) or a full God. Or remain mortal. Either way you have a ride or die man ok?

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?): he is somft (tm). Not to say he can't get rough. But he is very gentle with life. Especially yours. He would never try to harm you on purpose. He'd never forgive himself if he did.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?): ok raiden hugs are a blessing. They are comforting af. And also you always feel safe in his arms. He can be a bit reserved at times but overall. He'd let you hug him if that's how you show affection. He won't complain. He actually loves hugs and needs them more often. But he reserves his best hugs for you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?): it may take a bit. But once you hear it. He means it. Genuinely. From the bottom of his heart. I'd say at most....give him at least a year or two to figure it out. But honestly this depends on y'all. He'll show it before he says it tho. But again hearing raiden say "i love you" or even "aishiteru" . Be still my heart if he ever said that. Like holy shit. He'd have all my uwus.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?): eh he ain't the jealous type. At least lasting jealousy. Like its extremely fleeting. And if anything,its more of beating himself up over it. "Why do they get to see her everyday,meanwhile I'm stick here in the temple?" Type thing. But it's fleeting like i said more just passing thoughts.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?): electric. Lol. Jk,kinda. His kisses are passionate,gentle,full of love and that kind of kiss that is reassuringly sweet. But sometimes....you may get a saucy raiden. This raiden...oh boy lemme tell you. That is something absolutely heavenly. No pause. His fave place to kiss you besides your lips. Is your hand,a chaste kiss on the cheek or a reassuring kiss of respect and love on your forehead. Bonus points if you short. Its so cute. But then again raiden tol af canonlly. Sooooo. Everyone is shorter than the god of thunder n lightning. (My fave place to kiss him is under his chin or a cute quick kiss on the cheek, may blow a kiss too. If it's on the lips,well there may be a steamy storm coming thru. But anywhere is fine by me tbh)

L = Little ones (How are they around children?): raiden loves children. He's a good dad figure tbh. Canon and fanon. Like him dilf material. He is very protective. And also a lot more playful and even childlike himself around young ones. This brings out the raiden that many don't see. It's not that he doesn't show it. He does. It's just he's been through hell and back so much. But to see him like this,it warms your heart. Because this is the true raiden.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?): Raiden usually just has short rests,he don't really sleep like we do. Unless he is in mortal form. Then he is more likely to sleep. But even then,he has a hard time sleeping. However with you by his side,he sleeps or rests a bit more comfortably. But mornings with the thunder god is just sweet. A morning kiss. He makes tea quietly as to not wake you. In fact he often just likes watching you peacefully slumber. Knowing you are safe with him and in a gentle state like this is enough to melt his heart. Overall,a calm morning.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?): As i mentioned he rests more than sleeps,but he loves to have you sit in his lap while he reads old scrolls or tells you storys or tales about liu kangs and kung laos early days or the days where he and fujin were young gods,playing among the clouds. He'll read or talk to you till you fall asleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?): well it may take a bit as raiden while he deeply wants to share everything with you. He is cautious about letting people in. He has many enemies and is very protective of those he loves and the realm he protects. But once that ice is broken,and trust is gained. He is absolutely 100% honest with you. No secrets,nothing to hide. (There are exceptions and certain scenarios where he might hide something from you but he'd never ever lie to you. But this has to be something that is important. Or it's to protect you. He actually hates doing this tbh)

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?): Ok let this be a warning. NEVER EVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES EVER PISS OFF THE GOD OF THUNDER! EVER!!!! Do you have a death wish?! He rarely gets that pissed. He has excellent composure. He has the patience of a well...god. However,when he is pissed? Run. RUN FOR YOU LIFE BOIIII! Don't mess with the Thunder God's Wife/Spouse

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?): He remembers pretty well. However sometimes he gets caught up in things. So plz be easy with him. He doesn't mean to tho. But he's pretty observant.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?): Tbh when he first brought you to the sky temple. He loved the look on your face. To him it's not as huge of a deal. But to you. It was everything. And he just wanted to see you smile tbh. Raiden's such a sweetie.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?): very. Not overbearingly so. But in a "don't touch my Wife/Spouse or you are gonna eat lighting bolts for days". He would wrap a hand around your waist and hold you closer. Or hold your hand,especially if you need reassurance. But it only takes a glance from raiden,a tiny flash across his eyes to the other person as a warning. "Don't even think about it" . He would definitely defend your name. I know you'd do the same,we all would. I mean we'll call it like we see it. But honestly,i don't think many people would dare go against the god of thunder like that. Cept maybe shang but he's like that with everyone.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?): he tries to do as best as he can. But more just the simple things matter most to him. And tbh this depends on the individual. But if you are more like me and just want a simple alone time with some nice food and a hot bath type thing. Then he's all for that. But if you need a bit more,raiden will accommodate. Either way he does little things to make you smile. ♡ again sweetest thunder god ever.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?): beats himself up. Raiden plz,it's not your fault. Shit happens. You may have to reassure him a lot. He may be wise,composed,chill,etc. But even he has moments. Gods aren't perfect. And you have to sometimes help him with that in reminding him to breathe and forgive himself. Poor rai.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?): he takes good care of himself. But he isn't vain. A reasonable amount. But if he just is not feelin himself. Then oh boy scruffy,hair tousled and unkempt,this raiden you don't wanna cross. The clouds are exxtra heavy today. Oof. But for the most part,he's chill.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?): well yes but also no? Life would go on. But oh boy would he be depressed af.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.): raiden keeps the small trinkets left to him by children at his shrines. A whole box of them sits in his temple.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?): well besides the obvious things you shouldn't want in a partner. I dunno really. He's a pretty accepting guy. I guess as long as you are patient with him. And take care of yourself for the most part. And all that junk. He's pretty chill. Honestly he doesn't have a "type" he just wants genuine love as any other person.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?): he loves to have a breeze on him when resting. Windows and or doors would be open when sleeping. If you get cold however,he will get more blankets or cuddle closer. He will only shut them during the winter months. As to not bring snow into the temple. Lol.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

Word Count: Ch 1 - 828

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We've Got Tonight

Ch 1

A scruffy, unassuming man rests on a stool in the middle of the deserted stage, strumming his guitar strings with a morose abandon that does nothing to improve the lack of quality of his playing. He could play much better if he wanted to, but right now he thinks the occasional twang of a missed note fits his mood perfectly. He gazes off in the distance, his bleary eyes wandering from the empty counter to the patron-less tables, anywhere in the pub that isn’t his own booth and does not contain his latest chapters.

There’s a rumble of thunder from outside, which is funny, because there isn’t any weather here. There isn’t anything here but him. Here isn’t even here, not really.

He could fix this whole mess, though, could tweak a couple of things, pull some cosmic strings…

But there’s still order to consider, free will and balance and fate and…

And bullshit.

It’s all bullshit.

With a discordant clang, he thrusts the guitar onto a stand that didn’t exist before that moment and stalks his way over to the waiting typewriter. He frowns at the short stack of pages, thumbing through them slowly, scanning various passages. His whole face crinkles, displeasure etched in every line. He chuffs out a despondent breath, dropping into his seat resignedly.

“I can’t do it, I can't. Not to...not to any of them, but how do I even fix it?”

He stares at the pages on the table, wracking his brain for any solution to the snarl in his precious plot. Short of personally intervening, he just can’t see how to-

“Oh,” he says, hit by a nauseating realization. The light in his eyes can’t be described as delighted by any stretch. More of a light bulb of misery that clarifies his expression as the answer to his problem becomes apparent. He reaches out a steady but reluctant hand and crumples the finished pages, tossing them to the side before sliding a fresh sheet into his typewriter. Then he pauses, fingers hovering over the keys.

“Is it too cheesy, though?” he wonders aloud. “Too much of a trope? It’s not bad just because it’s a trope.”

He pulls his hands back, frowning, then shakes his head. “No. This is the only way to make the save. Okay...Okay, let’s do this.” The little man cracks his knuckles, flexes his fingers once, twice, a third time, then slowly begins to type.

“Maybe she won’t kill me too much,” he mutters, the clacking of the keys echoing hollowly around the empty pub. “I mean, she still gets to make the choices, I’m just...giving her another option. Free will. Yeah.” His frown digs deeper, etching the lines of despondency a little more permanently across his forehead, and he settles into the story once more.

…

“Okay, Andy, you’ve got this,” she mutters. She stands outside the bunker entrance, fingers frozen on the handle. She can feel her heart beating in her throat as she clutches the latch but still can’t bring herself to open the damned door.

“This isn't so hard,” she says, coaxing herself. “I’ve opened thousands of doors. I’ve opened this exact one before. A lot. I can open it again.”

It’s not that simple, her traitorous brain whispers.

She knows it isn’t the door that makes her hesitate; it’s dealing with who’s behind it that twists her heart and makes her fingers turn stupid. Considering the stunt she’s attempting to pull off, it’s not just her fingers that feel stupid right now. And knowing she’s about to face down Dean and all his impending wrath and try to actually lie to him?

Suicidal levels of idiocy.

“Stick to your story. Say as little as possible, avoid all mention of demons. You found a lead, the source was jumpy, and you couldn’t bring anyone else. Lead never showed, you waited, but nothing came from it. Don't get fancy; he'll see right through you.”

She’s been coaching herself this way for an entire day. The meet-up was only a couple of hours away, but she left early and came back a day late, knowing every minute she spends with Dean makes her five times more likely to reveal every recess of her soul. She’s never wanted to spill every secret she knows with someone like she does with this beautiful asshole.

But she came back when she probably shouldn’t have, even though it means attempting the impossibility of keeping this secret from the person she wants to lie to the least, and she’s not going to waste the precious little time she has left by standing outside the door all night. She has to give herself - give them both - just one more night together. In the end, she knows she could never make any other choice.

Sneaking into the Winchesters’ bunker is universally known as the last act of a desperate idiot, and Andy certainly feels up to the part tonight. ...

Chapter 2

[hydrangeaho3]

I'm supposed to be your brother

summary: Wilbur gets mad at Tommy and somehow Phil's the one left to deal with the aftermath

a/n: this fic in no way represents the real people and is merely a work of fiction. If any CCs have a problem with it pls let me know. This is also part 1 of 3 parts. Anyways, happy reading!! 

PART ONE

By the time Wilbur has finally finished his last meeting, it's already 8:00 pm and he's dead tired. His meetings had been absolute bullshit today, some stupid managerial shit he doesn’t feel like taking care of. He’d been planning to go straight home, drink some wine and then pass out before he remembers that he's promised to stream today.

He’s only about a couple of blocks away from his office when the first raindrops hit his face. Wilbur looks up. The sky is slowly darkening and the clouds are beginning to gather. He keeps his pace, hoping that it won’t get too bad until he’s reached his office but his luck doesn’t hold out. He’s only a block away from his house when it really starts pissing it down.

“Shit”

He starts to run and is just pushing the lobby door open when he hears the first clap of thunder. The noise shudders through his entire body, chilling his bones even further. He sighs before making his way to his office in the sea of white doors that surround him. Wilbur pauses before the door. He already knows what's going to greet him inside. Now Wilbur isn’t a neat freak or anything like that, he is a streamer after all but he does pride himself on a certain level of cleanliness.

He cracks open his office door. A giant mess greets him. Papers are lying everywhere, his Home Home poster is lying on the floor. There are old takeout containers next to his keyboard. Frankly, it's a disgusting mess. He’d been meaning to clean up but lately, he's been so busy and not in the greatest headspace and so it had slipped his mind.

Wilbur resolves to clean up the mess after his stream today. He’d been planning on a casual stream, one that didn’t involve a lot of energy or require him to be constantly active and engaged. Maybe a few rounds of GeoGuessr or chatting with Phil and then ending the stream a little early.

He sits down in his chair, sweeps away some of the food containers before hovering over the GoLive button. He hesitates for a couple seconds before clicking on it. His starting soon screen opens up and he watches the viewers start to trickle in. He gives it ten minutes before turning on his face cam and looking over at his chat. The messages are slowly scrolling through the screen.  

Hi Wilbur!!

BIG MAN DUBS

POGCHAMP

Are you okay? You look tired :(

He’s streaming!!!

He decides to ignore that last one before commencing his starting spiel.

“Hey, guys, how we all doing today? Doing good? Well I’ll tell you how I’m doing and that's shit, I’m doing absolute shit. It’s fucking thundering outside right now. Can you hear it chat? It's so goddamn loud.”

“Anyways chat, I was thinking we could play some GeoGuessr you know, just relax and chill out today.” His chat seems pretty okay with that. They’re used to watching Wil play GeoGuessr for hours on end.

He’s been playing for almost an hour now before he hears the discord sound that signifies that someone’s joined his VC.

“BIG MAN. EYYYY WILBUR!!!! How are you???” Wilbur winces as Tommy’s voice plays through his earbuds. It's obnoxiously loud today, even more so than usual, and it’s grating on his ears.

“Hello TommyInnit, how are you?”

“I’ve been doing good Wilbur. Played some Among Us with Tubbo and Schlatt and the rest of the gang. Other than that I’ve been doing my Big Man Activities. You know how it is Wil” Wilbur smiles at the familiar response.

“Ah, I see. How was your Among Us stream?”

“It was really really good. I got to play with Pokimane Wil. THE Pokimane,” Tommy shouts, apparently very excited about this occurrence. “Remember the time we both played with her? Oh god, that must have been so awkward for you Wil. Imagine if Nikki had been there, it would have been so so awkward.”

Wilbur lets out a sigh, he’s really not in the mood to deal with this bit. He’d only planned to stream some GeoGuessr not talk to Tommy about Pokimane and Nikki.

If Wilbur had been blessed with the ability to see the future, he would have known that this moment was where it all started going downhill. Unfortunately for Wil, he wasn’t prophetic so he kept streaming.  

Tommy and Wilbur ended up switching to Minecraft and it doesn’t take long until Tommy’s coming up with some sort of bit involving drugs and an attempt to scam the players on the server. Normally, Wilbur would have loved to play along, leaning into the big brother and young brother dynamics but today it just feels wrong. Maybe it's the cold that has seeped into his bones or maybe it's the clutter surrounding his desk or maybe it's Tommy’s voice grating in his ears.

Tommy’s been talking about how he’s going to need some name tags so his plan works and Wilbur keeps trying to interrupt him and telling him that he’s not in the mood for this bit but it's to no avail.

“Wilbur, Wilbur, what do you think of my plan? I think it’s really good but I need some name tags, oh- I also need some diamonds.” he keeps going and going and is somehow unable to tell that Wilbur is teetering over the edge.

“Tommy, tomm-”

“Oh, they’re some diamonds back in Pogtopia. Oh man, this is such a good plan Wil. No ones going to see it coming,”

“I don’t thin-”

“There’s a fucking reason people call me the biggest man on this SMP. Right Wilbur, right?”

And that's when Wilbur falls over the edge he’s been so delicately balancing on for the better part of two hours. He mutes Tommy over discord before closing Minecraft, filling his stream with only his face cam.

“Alright guys, I think that's where we’re going to be ending today. Hope you guys enjoyed the stream and I am going to be sending you off to Philza. Make sure you guys are nice in his chat and don’t spam him. Okay? Bye chat,” Right before he ends his stream for good he spares one glance at his chat.

bye Wilbur!

adios chat :)

did wilbur seem mad at tommy?

Wilbur felt really off today. Hope he feels better soon.

they really are like brothers

tommy was being a little shit today

Somehow Wilbur manages to ignore all of the texts commenting on how much they loved his stream and how much they enjoyed the Wilbur and Tommy interactions and instead all he focuses on is the last message he managed to read before the stream ended.

tommy was being a little shit today

“Hey Wil, that was a great stream today, I had a lot of fun”

When the silence becomes too loud and Wilbur still hasn’t answered Tommy began talking all at once again.

“Wil you okay? You seemed kind of off this stream,” This time it was the cold that had seeped into his bones, it was the clutter surrounding his desk, and most of all it was Tommy’s voice. As loud as ever, abrasive and unceasing in his ears.

“TOMMY. Do you ever stop talking? God, it’s so fucking annoying. You need to learn when to shut up,” Wilbur’s panting like he’s just run a marathon instead of playing Minecraft for the past hour.

The silence begins to ring, neither of them saying a word in hopes the other will have the right words to make it okay again. Instead, there's a small pained sound from Tommy’s end and then “I’m sorry Wil, I’m really sorry. I just wanted to- nevermind. I’m just sorry, really sorry,”

There’s a small click that signifies that Tommy’s left the call and then it’s just Wil, stewing in the storm he’s just created.

Oh God, what has he done? He- he just told Tommy to shut up. He had just verified every single fear in Tommy’s head. He was supposed to be the one that was there for Tommy, not the one hurting him. How many times had Tommy come to him, crippled with self-doubt and and how many times had Wilbur dispelled his fears with promises that Tommy was enough. He was supposed to be his big brother.

[shibarirobot]

Aizawa fic - CH1 - Entrapment

+18 only

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

I’m going to do my best to keep this fic as ambiguous as possible so anyone can enjoy it. The first few chapters will be tamer to build intruig, but make no mistake this is going to get SPICY. It’s not exactly a reader insert, but I’m going to stay away from describing my lead character, apart from quirk abilities, to make it easy for those that enjoy a reader insert to lose themselves in this fic. 

That being said, this fic is centered around a villain who can manipulate electro magnetic frequencies, that’s pretty broad and I’m no science kid, but I’m fairly certain everything I have them do is plausable with this type of quirk, if you have any suggestions for how it could be used or if I have written something infactual to the ability feel free to message me or leave an anon. However, in a made up world of quirks and hot men, I’m not sure it really matters lol. Suspend your disbelief as they say. 

Anyways, enjoy.

~

Four o’clock rolls by so slowly I can feel myself aging. I look down at my watch for the fifth time in the last three minutes and let out a huff. 3:57. No time to start getting anxious. I push even the word anxiety out of my brain and take another deep breath, closing my eyes. Distancing myself mentally from the hum of drunken bar thoughts. This time trying to calm my slightly lifted heart rate as it now feels like time has sped up exponentially, I realize I have no time to take a smoke or even go to the bathroom. It’s about to happen. I look at my watch again and feel the lump in my throat drop to my stomach as I swallow my insecurities and pull my hand up to my hip, skimming my thigh as I go. I can feel this too, the weapon at my waistband that has been pressing hard against my skin and keeping my back rigid as I try to level my breathing. I make eye contact with a tall man across the room from me, already nursing a beer before 4 pm and for a brief moment the air is still, latent energy pooling around me as I suck in another breath and force myself onto my feet. I magnetize my voice and push it into their brains as the stagnant energy from before comes crashing down in waves around me. 

“Everybody on the floor! NOW!” I say it, but they feel it, they feel their brains being ripped in half by my voice. The splitting headache that I come to find familiar, comforting even, forced upon these self serving bystanders. The pulse behind my eyes reminds me I’m alive, if nothing more than in a physical sense I am still living. Ringing fills the air as I roar into them again, enjoying watching them all grip their temples and wobble as they start to lose their equilibrium. I’m effectively scrambling their brains and replacing what is left with my own force of will. “I… SAID… NOW!!!!” They drop to their knees, some flopping to the side, giving up fighting, they're all sheep. Fucking sheep that just do what they’re told. Fucking sheep that believe in heroes and laws, it’s all bullshit. Even these citizens know it, but they all fall in line anyways. Because it’s power that they obey. And right now, I have it. 

I lock eyes with the man from before and he tries to move to the door, still wobbly on his feet. I smirk a little at his attempt. There’s always one. Always a fool that tries to play hero. He wants to... what? Call for help? Prove he’s not weak? Make up for his otherwise lackluster life? I don't even try to stop him. He barely makes it two feet before the rest of my crew shows up, a power type goon pushing the hero wannabe to the ground in a matter of seconds, the other, deadbolting the door. He never stood a chance and I chuckle to myself, grinning wildly now. I hear a groan from the ground next to my foot and look down, a woman is curled up on her side, one hand grasping desperately at the side of her head, the other gripping the material at her stomach with white knuckles. Her lips are pale and there is a cold sweat dripping down the side of her forehead, tears gathering at the corners of her big doe eyes. She’s honestly quite beautiful and it makes the terror in her eyes that much more satisfying when she looks up at me and whimpers a small, desperate, “Please.”

I stare down at her for a moment and absorb the painting before me. Such raw emotion. True pain. I laugh again, whole heartedly as a chorus of groans erupt from my captive audience, my screeches drilling a hole in their skulls. They don't even know what pain is and they fold at the waist and buckle at the knees, this is just a taste and they can hardly stomach it. While I'm laughing, I wrench my leg back and kick the woman in the stomach. Hard. My boots are steel plated and weighted, 15 pounds each, so I know it hurts. “Stupid bitch! Haha!” She screams, coughs, then hurls. Vomit mixing into her hair. I kick her again then lean down and grab her by the jaw, rubbing hard circles into her cheek as I yank her forward by the neck. Her eyes had been closed, but they snapped open when I did that, the vomit in her hair making it stick to her face. “You look so pretty when you beg, shame it will get you nothing here.” Dropping her head back to the hard, tile floor as I rise, looking down on her in disgust. I spit on her cheek from above and survey the room, all eyes are on me. She starts crying and I kick her one last time for good measure, for her distraction. “Whore.” It falls from my lips and I almost feel bad, but then I don't. I don't feel bad for these people, she would have thought the same thing about me and smiled to my face, not knowing who I am, what I’m capable of. She would have been comfortable in doing so to know her thoughts were private. They wouldn’t have been. I would have heard her, as I’ve heard countless others. I shake my anger away in the moment, getting  back to business, now is not the time to let my emotions get the better of me. 

Everyone was hearing me before, but now that I’m focused my voice is poignant, rumbling in the back of everyone’s minds like distant thunder. Like the booming voice of god. In this moment, I might as well be god. “Enough theatrics. If anyone moves I will LIQUIFY your brains, got it?!” There’s a prickle of anxious realization in the room as they all come to terms with the fact that I can do it and have a clear disregard for any of their well being. “Good. Now be darling little hostages and lay there in agony while the big mean bad guys rob the place, ‘kay?” My voice had lost the murderous quality it once had as I start to talk to them how an owner would to a new puppy. Lovingly, but condescending. 

I now look back to my crew, all people I barely knew, hired hands to make my plan run smoothly, expendable, but crucial. I see they have sealed all exits and my muscle men are manning the door. Well, muscle people I should say. One is a hefty looking mutherfucker with steel brackets around his wrists and ankles. His muscles swell and retract like they're breathing, as if his muscle was an entirely different entity from his body. It’s mesmerizing and somewhat disturbing to watch. The other is a short, toned woman with a spiked, pink mohawk and a killer smile. Her teeth are sharp and platinum and she grins, chomping her jaw to herself. It makes a distinguishable ‘Clang Clang’ when her teeth lock into place with each other. 

Knowing they have the hostage situation handled, I make my way to the back of the bar. There is a door in the corner and I reach for the handle as I approach, but a wave of hesitation hits me as I do, something tells me to move away from the door. With a quick dodge, I leap backwards as the door explodes, a fist appearing at the center of the explosion. A hero. Dammit. I was hoping to get this over with before we had a chance for interference. I ‘tsk’ my tongue and toss a scowl over my shoulder. What’s the point of a hired lookout if they don’t even tell you when the ops are coming? When I look behind me I see my lookout, the only person I hired on a quirk specific level, toppled over with a dart in their neck. Fuck. They were supposed to see around corners in the getaway. My eyes scramble around the room to see where it came from but there’s no one, just a small crack in the window where I assume the dart broke through. Someone on the roof.

Frustration overtakes me and I scream up at the ceiling. What’s the point of planning if I have to do everything myself anyways? The scream ruptures into everyone’s thoughts. The civilians. The heroes. The other villains. They all feel my wrath. I stand and kick the hero that had just blasted through the door and my plans in one fell swoop. I've seen him on tv, he’s getting pretty famous, some new chump that can balloon his fists. He really thought a physical quirk could beat me? He grunts then goes slack, some hero. The ones that never get hit can never handle it when they eventually do. I step past his body and again past the debris of the door. There’s a small room back here with metal shelves on each wall and one in the middle forming three neat rows, pilled with bricks of gold, artifacts and a computer on a table in the back. There’s another hole in the wall across from the door, seems as if this loser busted through both walls just for a shitty sneak attack. Easy escape though. Rolling my eyes, I march past the gold and the shinies and dig a flash drive out of my pocket, shoving it into the USB port, it immediately starts glowing red. I kick the chair to the side and lean down, tapping the keys furiously as I transfer file after file to my drive and delete them from the computer's hard drive. When I’m done, I pull the drive from the port, not worrying about ejecting the drive. It will just have to deal. I straighten my jacket and brush the hair out of my face, leisurely strolling back to the hole in the wall. 

Something glints in the corner of my eye and my focus is shifted to a beautiful diamond necklace that has to be worth more money than I have ever seen in my entire life. I’m about to take another step when the urge to possess this object takes me over so abrasively I can't even think about ignoring it. My hand darts out to the necklace, making quick work of securing it around my neck. I slip a gold brick into my pocket as well, reveling in the thrill of theft. Unplanned theft that is. 

Now that I’m satisfied with myself, I continue my trek to the hole across where the door used to be, leading to the alley, ready to make my one person escape only to be confronted face to face with glowing red eyes, barred behind shuttered goggles. 

Thank you for reading my first chapter! I hope you have enjoyed it!

Maybe leave a like...? Just a thought XD

I will be updating this and adding it to AO3 as soon as I get an account (I’m on the waiting list). There will be a link availiable to my new AO3 and other content as soon as I have that ready. Thanks again! 

CH2

[whetstonefires]

Okay, it’s been about a year but here is the second-to-last of the fics I signed up to write for the go-fund-cee drive! For @jes-cher, who has been lovely and understanding about my choice paralysis bullshit.

I’ll be posting a shorter, darker Jason-focused one later, as apology for slow. Ten months of beating my head against my first idea for this prompt before it occurred to me I could just. Write something else. It doesn’t matter if it’s a great idea if it’s clearly not getting written! 😌 Rip.

(Anon who’s the only one left, please feel free to contact me with a new prompt if you’re no longer interested in your original request after this amount of time, or have justifiably lost faith in my ability to execute it, as I chronicled my battle with Lobdell’s writing style, and would prefer I give you 10,000 words of something else. I’ll still post what I have written for that prompt already!)

-&-

Gotham wasn’t actually that bad a city. Steph had actually lived in a few different ones now, and visited lots, and for all the crap her hometown got, it stood up pretty well. The architecture was nice; good balance of eras, a unified aesthetic with a lot of variety to keep it interesting.

The street system wasn’t ideal, especially in the old parts of town, but they didn’t have any of the traffic nightmares of New York or, really, most of the rest of the metro belt. Only Metropolis did a better job at avoiding gridlock.

Public transit was robust and reached most of the city, and while the buses weren’t wonderful they weren’t bad. Sometimes they were even on time. The libraries and schools were all pretty well funded, because the Wayne Foundation made up the tax shortfall in districts with below average income. The street lights usually worked, and the cops were a lot more chill than most places unless they thought you were a supervillain, in which case they still probably wouldn’t shoot you, even if maybe they probably should.

The supervillain problem was worse than average, she could admit that, but crime as a whole actually wasn’t. Air pollution had been really bad forty years ago, and the river still wasn’t anywhere you’d like to swim, but that was true of a lot of places, and their reputations didn’t linger like this. She’d been to Paris! Gotham sanitation workers were about 400% more successful, and they kept working through frankly ludicrous conditions! Possibly they were paid really well, she didn’t know.

The weather, though. She’d give the world that one. Gotham’s weather was consistently terrible, awful, no-good, and deserved everything anyone had ever said about it.

Which made it actually really weird that their supervillain problem featured someone with a plant theme.

“Move somewhere tropical, Eisley!” she groused, as she swung to the next roof, careful of her footing. “Cultivate jungles! Save the planet! Stop making us come out in the freezing rain to deal with your unseasonable bullshit.”

She paused for a second on her last rooftop perch, both to gather herself and in case Ivy took the cue. She often did. Supervillains in general seemed to have a hard time resisting a straight line—which Steph could relate to, honestly. And she’d caught Batman holding back his entrance for the most ironic dramatic moment before, so it wasn’t just a villain thing.

No villain attack, which was good, because Steph was on her own out here. This was hopefully just a scouting mission. Probably Poison Ivy wasn’t even here.

This afternoon, just after lunch, as Steph was getting off work, every park in the city had suddenly erupted with enormous…growths. They were tree-shaped, thirty feet high with little crinkled green leaf things at the top, but from what inspection had been done so far seemed more like fungus than anything. The spreading limbs had a weird rubbery texture.

Steph was calling them Doom Broccolis.

Whatever they were, they were suspicious as heck, and in response to their appearance Batman had immediately rallied the troops. Which had quickly led to the discovery that Red Robin was missing, and had been for at least eleven hours. He’d never checked in last night.

The troops had promptly been rallied even more urgently, and dispersed across the city to its various infested green spaces.

So Steph’s mission, like everyone’s, was twofold—see if she could learn anything about Ivy’s scheme in time to foil it, and search for any sign of Tim. If they were lucky, he’d just dropped out of contact voluntarily for unrelated reasons and could be yelled at later. If not… Well. If not, he needed them.

She’d been telling herself all the way here that she appreciated that Duke and Damian were the ones who’d been sent out with each other as backup, that she was respected and trusted to operate solo and that was a good thing. The practical side of her would really prefer backup please, and the insecure one kept murmuring that maybe what it really proved was Batman cared less if she died.

Batgirl gave herself a little shake. Shut up, little voice, she told it, and mentally squashed the slug of it under her heel. She adjusted her gas mask to make sure the seal was tight. Time to get her reconnoiter on.

And hopefully not have to fight the most powerful metahuman in Gotham by herself on unfavorable terrain, in the freezing rain. That would be really great.

There was almost no sound as she crept through the nasty rubbery grove that had erupted in the long narrow triangle that was Hyde Park.

The broccolis themselves were silent, not even creaking or rustling in the occasional gusts that drove the freezing rain at an angle, and city traffic and all the sounds of people were hushed on a day like today, between the weather and the large-scale supervillain incident. Everyone who could be was either out of town or at home, stuffing newspaper into any cracks in case of spores.

After an unenlightening loop around about half the perimeter, Steph was forced to drop to ground level and forge her way into enemy territory. The doom broccolis had avoided uprooting any existing trees or large shrubs, which meant the spacing was slightly uneven and in some places there was no easy way through on foot, but for the most part they were far enough apart to leave plenty of corridors of sky for Steph to stay out under—cover from line of sight wasn’t worth putting herself directly below the things, if she could help it.

Fairly quickly, she noticed something that had not been in the photos from the main infestation in Robinson Park, forty minutes ago.

She clicked her comm on. “Hey,” she murmured just above the subvocal range, for the throat mic. She’d mostly gotten the knack of subvocalizing rather than whispering, which didn’t engage the vocal cords and which the microphone pasted to her neck therefore didn’t pick up well. “Is anybody else seeing…fruit? On the broccolis?”

There was a second of dead air, and then Red Hood said, with a grimace you could hear, “yeah. Like…huge brown cherries, on a couple of ‘em.”

“The ones here are more or less mushroom colored,” reported Signal from Finger Park. “But kind of like cherries, yeah.”

“Don’t touch them,” warned Batman, with the condescending Dad-instinct need to tell everyone things they already knew. Steph was in the middle of rolling her eyes when she rounded another broccoli and froze dead.

“Holy crap.” The broccoli mushroom tree at the middle of Hyde Park was bearing fruit that wasn’t shaped like cherries at all. Batgirl’s first thought had been holy shit it’s people, but then she’d taken her second look, and now it was worse. “Team,” she said, trying to keep her voice professional, “I… think I found Red Robin.”

Because dangling from the central broccoli, by dark hair that turned into green stems just before joining the bough, were seven still vaguely formless figures, torsos partially sheathed in giant green leaves like Ivy wore sometimes for modesty, and with arms and legs looking just barely stuck together. Like a partly melted wax figure, or dragon fruit that wasn’t quite ripe. The fingers and toes were mostly fused, and greenish at the tips. The faces were kind of melty too, hopefully enough so that they wouldn’t be a sure match against a photo to a stranger, but not so much that Steph couldn’t instantly recognize the lines of one of the faces she knew best in the world.

There were seven under-ripe Tim Drakes growing from a broccoli tree.

A clamor of demands for clarification was starting in her comm, and she crept forward as she waited for Batman and Oracle to quiet them all down. There was a bulge halfway up the meaty-looking trunk. “I said ‘think,’” she murmured, studying the nearest Tim-fruit for signs it was actually the real one, “because this broccoli—”

Something slammed into her from the side before she could say any more, heavy and cold and leaving her head ringing and her stupid gas mask flying away, and the combination of experience and instinct only barely let her leap and handspring with the blow, just fast enough to avoid the grasp of the thing that had struck her.

Her boots and glove almost skidded in the freezing-rain-on-grass and left her wiping out, but the jagged rubber treads she’d selected specifically for moments like this saved the day.

Steph made a three-point landing and stared up at Poison Ivy, standing looking thunderous on the top of a huge coil of some sort of vine, several more of them lashing around her like octopus arms. Steph couldn’t even tell which one had hit her.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit, Steph thought, and grinned.

“Gotta try harder than that, Pam!”

No one was talking in her ear. The ear she’d been smacked in. She reached up to check. Yeah, the comm had had it.

She couldn’t be sure about the throat mic—the stick-on patch it was under was still in place but she was pretty sure it got most if not all of its broadcast strength from the earbud unit, so it probably wasn’t transmitting to the others anymore but it might be. She’d keep that in mind to a) pass info just in case and b) try not to embarrass herself, in case there was a silent audience.

Ivy didn’t go straight for the kill, so Steph took the time to readjust her stance into a slightly more upright, flexible posture that kept both her hands free, though she didn’t bother to straighten her cape, which had gotten flipped forward over her right shoulder while she was flipping around.

“You’re planting dude-trees now, Pam?” She and Ivy absolutely weren’t on close enough terms to use first names, even if the meta lady had currently been on the upswing and working with the Birds of Prey again, instead of on a sharp down and terrorizing the city. “What, real guys not listening to you anymore?”

“Human beings are disgusting resource sinks,” Ivy said, in a tone of abstracted disgust that didn’t omen well for her losing her head and making a mistake. “Especially men. I’ve always been working on alternatives. Sadly,” she gave a shallow sigh, inspecting her nails, “the ones I’ve developed have always been…limited.”

Steph nodded sagely. “The veggieburger problem,” she agreed. “Hard to get a plant to do the job of meat.”

Ivy glared. Hah. That one got her. “My new varietal,” she snapped, “will overcome that problem. Each specimen engulfs and consumes one large mammal, and produces fruits that mimic the full intelligence and abilities of the prey sample, in a vegetable form completely loyal to me.”

Steph gaped, because one, that was the most terrifying thing Ivy had done in years, and two, consumes was a very very alarming word in this context. “The Doom Broccolis are carnivorous?” she did not actually squeak. She really hoped her throat mic was still working. Even if it wasn’t, though, backup should be incoming.

Ivy rolled her eyes. “They are not even distantly related to broccoli. And yes, although the digestion process doesn’t really set in until the fruits ripen; the early experiments failed to reproduce cognitive function accurately, due to the breakdown of key tissues.”

Whew. So Tim had…at least a little time left, probably. Steph looked uneasily around the grove of horrible flesh fungus. “I don’t see any loyal broccoli people,” she said. Maybe they were off guarding the other parks?

Ivy scowled. “Of course not. The early cultivars weren’t large enough for human trials, obviously.”

…so there were loyal vegetable guinea pigs or something. Sometimes it was easy to forget Ivy had once been an actual lab scientist.

“So wait, you haven’t actually done a person before and you start with—him?” Steph caught herself at the last second; she didn’t know which identity Tim had been caught in.

“Why not? Red Robin is an excellent specimen. Good balance of strength, strategy, and unlike Batman actually takes direction.” Ivy made a sour face, like her inability to control any version of Batman for long was a thorn in her side.

“Is that what you think,” said Steph, who had had the experience of trying to control Tim Drake. He did try to be accommodating, about most things, usually, and he did take direction better than Batman, for what that was worth, but in the end he’d always go off and do whatever he thought best, no matter what, and possibly let you yell at him about it later.

If anyone could take stock of his preconceived values and identity issues and think his way into a twisty workaround for inbuilt loyalty programming in order to fuck over his creator, she’d bet it would be a perfect copy of Tim.

“Also I caught him skulking around my newest greenhouses,” Ivy shrugged. “Waste not, want not. Recycling is good for the Earth.”

Haha, Ivy had just called Tim garbage. Harsh. But as interesting as it would be to see if the veggie-Tims actually did go rogue, them waking up would mean Tim was now actively dying if not already dead. So no. Not that funny.

Steph caught the enemy’s eyes shuttling subtly toward the central broccoli with its heavy burden of fruit. Aha. Just as she had suspected. (As of like…six seconds ago.)

Poison Ivy had been keeping Batgirl talking, buying time for her Tims to ripen.

Steph appreciated the compliment of putting off the fight rather than counting on being able to end it quickly, but she’d been buying time, too. And unlike Ivy, she was done shopping.

Her Batgirl cape wasn’t nearly as wide cut as her Spoiler cloak had been, not as good for hiding things in, but she’d contrived to use its cover to take out and arm nine individual exploding batarangs while they talked. That was more than she carried normally, or even would be allowed to carry normally, but when you were fighting evil trees more ordinance tended to be called-for, and Batman had issued a supply.

Without wasting time, she started throwing. Her aim had never been especially exact, something Damian liked to give her a hard time about, but here all she had to hit was ‘an entire tree.’ No fiddly precision targets today. She had to aim for the ones not showing fruit or trunk bulges, which she was going to have to trust didn’t have people inside, rather than having just recently acquired very tiny people—this seemed like a safe bet since Ivy tended to be soft on kids.

Not enough to stop periodically trying to destroy humanity for their sake, but enough that it was hard to imagine her hurting one face to face.

“No!” Ivy shouted. She got points for not leaping toward the blinking explosives to try to stop them, sending vines striking like snakes instead, but she was too busy doing that to get away from the bomb that had landed only about five feet away from her.

The blast blew her off her feet, and clear off her pedestal of green. She’d managed to remotely yank two of the batarangs out before they went off, saving those doom fungi, but Steph wasn’t worried about that; she’d successfully set the supervillain up for the kind of fatal misjudgment in defense of plants Batman always said was the surest way to beat her, and now she charged in to make the most of it.

She got there in plenty of time to really put her weight behind a punch hammering down into Ivy’s face, then kicked her in the chest, heel driving in just below the collarbone. Ivy gave a very human uph and pained expression, though she didn’t fall, and Steph went for another kick, this one more carefully aimed.

This was a mistake. One green-tinted hand came up and closed around her ankle like a Venus flytrap made of carbon steel, and in one sharp uncoiling move Eisley rose to her feet and with a twist of her whole torso flung Steph head over heels across the grove.

She realized somewhere between getting thrown and suppressing the urge to vomit as she gyroed upside-down that she’d been thrown straight for one of the remaining undamaged, unfruiting tree-things. Could see the surface getting sort of…gelatinous in preparation for her impact, which was so many flavors of no.

Her hands didn’t fumble at her belt, courtesy of many hours of drills and live practice, even as instinct screamed for rush and now now now.

Her grapple caught in one of the spreading ‘boughs’ at the top of another broccoli, and she tugged the line to send herself swinging out on a long arc just short of making contact with the fungus that wanted to eat her.

She peppered the air in front of her with ordinary, nonexplosive Batarangs as she came back around on the end of the wire—Ivy smacked these casually aside, but it made enough of a distraction that Pam didn’t notice in time the moment when Steph got her backup grapple into a different tree, and accelerated.

Going for a kick would have been the smart, safe option, but Steph was rarely smart and almost never safe, so instead of slamming her full body weight heel-first into the supervillain and hoping it stuck this time, she grabbed with the full strength of endless thigh workouts and dragged Ivy clear off her feet.

Ivy’s plants were protective, but they tended to rely heavily on her for targeting anything that wasn’t right in front of them, so keeping her disoriented was a good idea if you could manage it. It said so in her file. So this part, the grabbing, had been an actual plan, even if one it had taken about two seconds to make, and even if ‘hit the supervillain essentially with your crotch’ was probably a combat recommendation no one would make ever.

The next part was sheer impulse, based on how much easier Ivy was to move than expected—maybe her punch resistance wasn’t so much physical density as some sort of supernatural rootedness, and if you could get her off the ground it stopped working?

Steph released the retraction mechanism on her secondary grapple and let it start paying out again, an instant before she hit the max-strength retract button on her original grapple, the one that was still in her other hand, and gripping a bough halfway across the grove.

Her right shoulder screamed, but Ivy let out a startled choking sound as their trajectory wrenched around out of the arc Steph had been carrying her into headfirst, and shot the other way. Which meant she was still discombobulated, which meant Steph still had the upper hand, shoulder or no.

Steph picked the right moment as they went rocketing back, and let go. Momentum kept Ivy flying, and none of her plants reacted to catch her in midair before she landed. Right on target.

Ivy sank headfirst into her own carnivorous fungus tree, in the gelatinous patch where she’d tried to throw Steph. Her legs kicked once, and then fell still. “See how you like it!” Steph shouted, which was perhaps not the wittiest repartee ever, but she didn’t care.

She landed, staggering a little because her shoulder might be dislocated a little bit and was definitely killing her. And normally she wouldn’t turn her back on a villain just because she’d gotten one good hit and they hadn’t immediately gotten up again, but what she’d been fighting for this whole time was time, because the window of opportunity to stop Tim Drake-Wayne from being reduced to protein goo and the pattern for a bunch of veggie-copies was closing fast. This wasn’t a defeat-top-rank-supervillain-solo mission, this was a rescue mission.

She pelted back toward the relevant tree, holding up the elbow of her bad arm with the opposite hand against the jolt. How to get him out? With two good arms she could have climbed or grappled up to the level of the bulge that represented the broccoli’s prey and started cutting, but it would be hard to get good leverage. Was there a better option?

One of the Tim-fruits twitched on its stem. Fuck it.

Steph recalled the grapple-end of her holdout gun from where it had been since she use it to get the drop on Ivy, fired it into the gummy-looking limbs of the Tim tree, and hauled herself up. She needed to start carrying a better cutting implement than a Batarang, how did Midnight Boy Scout not mandate that already, but for now she gripped one swoopy sharp black wing awkwardly in her gauntleted left hand, braced toes and knees against the nasty cool-flesh stem, and put all the strength her bad arm had into cutting through the tough husk.

It wouldn’t cut.

More of the Tims were starting to move. Their copy nervous systems booting up or whatever.

The whole tree seemed like it was twitching, and then she realized it was, or rather just the lump under her feet was, and she pulled back her Batarang just in time for something thin and yellow to burst out through the surface of the Doom Broccoli, and disappear, leaving an almost invisibly thin slash that dribbled a transparent greenish fluid that reminded Steph of aloe vera gel but smelled more like old mango and artichoke.

The rubbery husk was being sliced up from the soft, inner side with the hawks-head emblem that belonged in the middle of Red Robin’s chest, which wouldn’t you know was a holdout throwing star thing after all, just like his R used to be. She should’ve known.

Talk about impractical shapes for a knife.

“Keep going, you’ve almost got this.”

Whether he heard her or not, he went on thrashing and slashing, and Steph with her Batarang tore as best she could with her bad arm at the shreds between cuts, trying to get them to snap and let all the thin slashes add up to one hole large enough to escape through.

The Tim-fruits were still twitching. Would they fall to the ground and then peel their limbs free like they were breaking out of husks, and get up and start walking around? Or would they need to get all the way to looking like functioning humans before detaching from the stems?

A whole arm burst out in a rush of goo. They were going to make it.

The fingers of the nearest fruit came unstuck, one by one, curling around air the way Tim curled his around a staff.

And then he was out, headfirst and gooey.

“Man, Ex-Boyfriend Wonder,” Steph sighed, as she let him grab onto her and lowered them on a slowly paying-out jumpline, helping him reach the ground with slightly more dignity than clawing his way down the slime-encrusted ruptured stem of his prison would have allowed, assuming he hadn’t just landed face-first and died. “Why’d you have to go breaking yourself loose at the last second like that? I was supposed to be the hero!”

“Believe me, you—pbbbft—were,” Tim answered, pausing partway to spit out a mouthful of sap-gel that he must somehow have been breathing in there. “I’d never have even managed to wake up if you hadn’t turned up to distract Ivy and make such a racket. I could feel her speeding it up, toughening up the…things, pushing.” The shiver was understated enough Steph might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been clinging to her waist. She eyed the Tim fruits. They’d stopped moving. Good?

Feet on the ground, Tim brushed fruitlessly at the slime all over his costume, then obviously gave it up as a bad job. “Where is she?” he asked, looking around.

“Over there.” Steph landed too, and pointed to where Ivy was still embedded head-first in a broccoli.

She’d disappeared up to the waist, and didn’t seem to be making any effort to get out. In fact, as they watched she seemed to sink in another centimeter.

“Okay, that’s a bit better than a distraction,” Tim acknowledged. “But also I don’t think we should let her finish. I don’t want to fight a dozen vegetable Poison Ivys.”

“Don’t like to eat your vegetables?” Steph teased, even as she sized up the situation—should they pull Ivy out, probably the faster option but then they’d probably have to fight her some more right away, or try cutting down the Doom Broccoli with her still in it, more thorough?

“Yeah actually I’m not going to be able to look any cabbage varietals in the face for the next six months,” said Tim, apparently agreeing they were broccoli regardless of their creator’s opinion and the mango smell, “but come on. It’s never good when villains start to spawn. Chiraxes was bad enough.”

“Blegh,” Steph admitted. The duplicate Drury Walkers had at least had a super short lifespan and been self-disposing. “Okay, I’m all out of bombs. You?” Probably a dumb question, given all his storage space had been confiscated.

“Ivy took my belt and everything in my bandoliers,” Red Robin admitted, touching the cape closure thing at the top of them, where he’d shoved his little sigil-thing back into place in spite of all the goo. His stupid little gimmicks would be easier to make fun of if they worked out less often, lucky stiff.

“But she left that.” Because Tim had all the luck when it came to details like that. “And your mask?” Not that Ivy had ever cared much about things like the Bats’ secret identities.

He shrugged. “I guess she didn’t expect it to be relevant long.” Anything she wanted to know from or about him, the copies could have told her, soon enough. And he wouldn’t have mattered, once he was dead.

This had been another close one; Steph got those feelings out with a little shiver of her own. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s do something about Ivy. Everybody else should be here soon.”

“Backup,” Tim sighed, pushing his hair back from his face and having it stick that way, messily moussed with doom fungus glop. “I love having backup.”

“Sure didn’t act like it back in the day.”

“I am an older and wiser man now. Who values being alive and made of the original meat products.”

Steph stole a glance over her shoulder at the Tim tree. “…I’m really glad those things aren’t waking up.”

“Me too. Think of the ethical implications.”

Steph side-eyed him, not sure whether that was intentional humor or not, then decided it didn’t matter and elbowed him in the ribs anyway. She immediately broke into a run to avoid any counter-attacks, bad arm carefully supported once again. “Race you to the supervillain!”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Twenty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Twenty-Six

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): Language, Hints at drug use

A/N: This wasn't the entire chapter, however tumblr's being weird and won't even let me create a new draft right now let alone let me upload a 4,044 worded text post so I'll upload the second part of this asap (probably tomorrow of they get their shit fixed on here) and there will be another update Friday. Have a good night:)

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-------------------------------------------------------

I smooth my wavey hair down, taking the last giant velcrow roller out before putting my lipstick on and leaving the bathroom, looking for the car keys, unable to find them.

"Nikki, babe, where are the keys?" I call to him, looking in the kitchen and living room, heading to our bedroom.

He's passed out from a night of partying, Robbin still asleep on the floor.

"Baby." I lightly pat Nikki's face, not having the time to patiently shake him awake.

He groans, scrunching his face and rubbing his eyes.

"What is it?" He asks me, exhausted.

"Where are the car keys?"

"Mine or your's?" He questions, blinking at me to clear the sleep from his eyes.

"Your's. I can't drive mine until we get the driver's side window fixed, remember?"

"What? What happened to it?" He sits up and I raise my brows.

"Uh, well, you put your fist through it?" I remind him and he exhales.

"Oh...yeah." He replies. "They're in my pants pocket."

I don't give him time to reach for them himself.

My hand is in his pants pocket, grabbing his keys and pulling them out.

"Bye, love y-love, I'll see you when I get back." I stutter to cover my slip up, cutting myself off immediately before I can say, "love you", even though I've never called Nikki "love" before.

He doesn't notice it.

"See you when you get back." He mumbles once he's laying back down.

I slip my kitten heels on and head out.

"I love you" was one of the biggest Elephants in the room between Nikki and I.

We should have said it and we knew that, but we just didn't say it.

At first I was waiting for him to say it, then he never did...so I just decided it was something we wouldn't do.

Love's an action instead of an emotion, anyway, so I didn't think it was a big deal that neither of us had heard it from the other because we showed each other we loved each other in other ways...until we didn't anymore...and started keeping score, measuring who was winning by who was hurting who more, instead of trying to be better to each other.

I had to face that ugly reality when we were both screaming "I hate you" with Fred and Doc trying to break up one of our argument-turned-near-fist fights backstage at the last North American show of "Girls, Girls, Girls."

That was the night I got pregnant with my first son, Monroe, and the man barking about how much he hated me, isn't the father.

It's safe to say I won.

My heels click down the concrete stairs of the church as I walk to Nikki's black corvette after service is over, furrowing my brows the closer I get, seeing a white slip of paper tucked under the windsheild wiper.

I pluck the paper off and see it's a ticket for $350.00 with "BROKEN TAIL LIGHT" marked on it.

"My tail light isn't broken." I argue to myself, stepping around the back.

The entire left side set of lights are busted with signs of swapped paint where someone hit the car with their's and I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.

I stand and stare at the paper, then the busted light, tears oncoming the more I look at it.

Nikki is going to kill me.

I hear a car pull up behind me and park on the curb of the street but I don't pay any attention, too busy figuring out how to explain this.

"Hey, uh, Vivian?"

I turn to see Duff, wiping my eyes quickly.

"Duff?" I'm caught off guard by my recently new friend. "I've told you just call me 'Viv'." I tell him, sniffling and he furrows his brows, stopping in front of me where I'm now standing by the driver's door of the corvette.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." It's an obvious lie, a pathetic squeak leaving me.

"What's up?" He asks me and I lick my lips and sigh out.

"It's stupid." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"What happened?"

I just hand him the ticket and he takes in a sharp breath, his brows shooting up.

"Jeezus." He lets out. "You just got this?"

"Yes." My voice cracks and he looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

"Viv, c'mon, it's not that bad. It'll be alright." He tries to reassure me.

"Oh, no, no, no...that's not all." I say, walking to the back and he follows me, not hiding the gasp that leaves his lips. Nikki is going to kill me."

There's a silent pause as I rest against the back of the corevette, crossing my arms, trying to figure out how I'm going to present the $350.00 ticket to my husband.

Duff leans against it beside me, avoiding the broken bits, thinking for a second, too, before reaching into his jacket pocket.

"Here." He grabs my hand, putting a wad of cash into it and I look at him, confused. "For the ticket." He explains and I shake my head.

"N-No. I can't take this from you, you need it." I argue, wiping more tears.

He goes to say something but I cut him short. "If you say that you don't need it, I'm going to hit you. You live in your car, Duff. You've been talking about getting a new place and this is part of the rent for an apartment." I point out, handing the cash back to him.

"Whatever you say." He shrugs, putting it back in his jacket.

We sit for a moment longer before he nudges me with his elbow.

"You hungry?" He asks and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Stop offering to spend your money on me." I chuckle and he smiles.

"Actually, I know a place the both of us can eat and it would only cost the price of one beer." He tells me and I raise my brows.

It was the first of many Sunday lunches at this hotel a few blocks away that offered an "all you can eat" buffet if you just buy a bottle of beer.

I listen as Duff goes on about possible members of the potential band he wants to be a part of.

A drummer named Steven, who has a lot of extra drums in his kit than what's needed but he's a hell of a drummer.

A Johnny Thunders look alike-that isn't that great on a guitar but makes it sound cool anyway-that goes by the name Izzy.

And a kind of weird kid that apparantly has massive hair and is super shy but speaks a billion words a minute through his guitar: Slash.

"And Slash and Steven are buddies, but I don't know if they've ever met Izzy or not." He tells me, sipping the beer neither of us were carded for, even though we're only twenty.

"What style of singer do you have in mind?" I ask, taking a bite out of my mozerella stick.

"Someone who gets the punk scene, but not necessarily a punk singer." He tells me and I wrinkle my nose. "Don't do that." He points at me, knowing exactly what I'm about to say.

"Punk?"

"Don't say it like that." He laughs. "You don't like it because you don't understand it."

"I understand it and I respect it, I just don't..." I try to choose my words. "...I like some of it, but most of it I don't really care for."

"How the hell do you survive not liking punk? It's the biggest 'fuck you' to societal standards." He defends the genre.

"I like the Ramones, The Stooges, the New York Dolls." I tell him, even though they were all acquired tastes because I have to listen to them so much due to Nikki.

"What about The Sex Pistols?" Duff suggests.

"I did, until Sid killed Nancy." I shrug.

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, you really believe that propaganda bullshit made up by the conservative media to further their anti-punk/rock agenda and get a good check? He did not kill her." He argues.

"They'd been binging on all kinds of drugs for weeks. I'm not saying he meant to, maybe he was hallucinating and genuinely didn't realize it was her until it was too late, but he did it." I state.

"Nope."

"Oh, okay, so it was the body guard?"

"I think it was a double suicide attempt." He explains and I lean back. "His just didn't work."

"If it was a double suicide, why didn't he just use the knife she used and bleed to death like she did?" I question.

"Maybe he didn't want to be stabbed."

"If he was going to die, what would it matter?" I ask and he shakes his head a little with a small grin pulling at his lips.

"Hi, my name is Vivian Estine Sixx and I can argue with a brick wall for five hours straight." He mocks me and I cut my eyes at him.

We just stare at each other, and he attempts to take another drink of his beer while we have our staring contest, and the both of us crack up simultaneously, and he sprays beer through his lips and nose, further egging my laughter on.

I get home around four in the afternoon after spending three hours talking to Duff, and my stomach's sore from laughing so much.

"Viv?" Nikki calls from the bathroom and I walk in to see him teasing his hair.

He's shirtless, his black jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing some of his pubic hair and I lick my lips.

"Did you have fun?" He asks in a teasing tone, referring to the oh-so-wild church service I attend as much as I can, and I roll my eyes and lean against the sink beside him, crossing my arms.

"Yes, I did." I reply, not able to meet his eyes because I'm too focused on his exposed skin.

"What took you so long to get back?" He asks next.

I know, I know, "if it was innocent then there should be nothing to hide and you should be able to tell him you were with another man."

It wasn't Tommy, Mick, Robbin or Vince, and he never met Duff.

He didn't trust men he'd never met around me.

So if I would have told him, I would have never heard the end of it.

"Long sermon." I lie, and he looks at me and furrows his brows.

"Have you been crying? Your mascara's smudged." He tells me, his thumb swiping right under my bottom lash line to wipe away dried mascara and I'm suddenly hit with the realization that I have a $350.00 ticket.

"It was a good sermon." I say.

He finishes his hair, turning to look at me.

"Me and the guys are going to the Rainbow tonight." He tells me. "You're comin', right?"

"Yes." I nod, grinning.

"Good. I gotta go get the oil changed and I'll be back to pick you up." He steps out of the bathroom to go get dressed and I follow him.

Once he's got his t-shirt that has "FUCK" written across the front, he's pulling his jacket and boots on.

When he's gotten his boots on, he stands up from the matress of our bed, and I grab at the top of his jeans, pulling him closer to me, standing on my tip toes to press my lips to his.

He kisses me, his hands holding at either side of my jaw.

When we pull away, he smiles, kissing my cheek before grabbing his keys and leaving.

The second he's gone I'm darting to my purse, attempting to find the ticket, praying I didn't leave it in the car.

Once I see it's not in my purse, I let out a deep breath and worry that I've lost it.

"Damnit." I mumble, trying to remember the last place I had it. "The church parkinglot with Duff but..." I trail off, thinking of the possibility of it being left in the parkinglot and I groan out.

There's no way it's still there if that's where it got left.

I decide to figure it out later and go wash away my worn off makeup before reapplying it and changing clothes, waiting for Nikki to get back.

I'm finishing putting on ruby red lipstick when I hear the front door slam and I tense up and put the cap back on the tube before peeking my head out the door and seeing Nikki put his keys and a piece of paper on the counter, frustration taking a stance in his movements.

Pretending nothing's wrong, I walk out of the bathroom and across the floor to our bedroom to grab my purse and put my heels on.

Once they're on, I walk back into the kitchen smile at him.

"C'mon, babe." I nudge him as I walk past him to get to the door.

He grabs my arm, though, causing me to stop and he pulls me back, pushing me against the counter, trapping me when he puts his hands on the counter on either side of me and his face is centimeters from mine.

"You wouldn't know anything about the completely shattered tail light on my car, would you?" He asks me calmly.

"No?" I lie, trying to seem confused, but it's clear he's not buying it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He just stares at me and I slide my hands up and down his arms, smiling nervously.

"Can we go, now?" I ask, kissing his cheek.

"I spent $100.00 to get it fixed today." He explains. "Did you back into something or did someone hit the car?"

"I told you I didn't even know about it, babe." I argue calmly. "Can we leave and just go back and forth about this later? We're gonna be late."

He gives me one last stare before sighing out, letting me go and I make sure to beat him to the car by several strides, frantically searching for the ticket when I get in, not finding it, before he gets in beside me.

[shaylybaby2032]

Let Me Be Your Lighthouse

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit/18+

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

A/N: Please do not copy my work to any platform without my permission, even if giving credit.

Warnings: Eventual smut, physical/mental abuse, angst, fluff, language

Summary: A Duke of Hell wants to use Gabriel for his own nefarious plans and makes a deal with the Empty Enitity to bring the Archangel back from the dead. But, when Gabriel escapes, the Duke must reach deep into his arsenal to try and track him down. Not long after Gabriel's great escape, Sam and Dean race to save a fellow hunter who has been captured by demons and, after rescuing her, convince the woman to let them help her get rid of the demons hot on her heels. While the two occurrences seem unrelated at first, they may have more in common than any of them realize.

"A wise man once told me, 'family don't end in blood.' But it doesn't start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family's there; for the good, bad, all of it. They got your back, even when it hurts." -Dean Winchester

Chapter 1: Unexpected Return

The full moon hung low in the night sky over the large patch of deserted dirt in Fort Collins, Colorado that had once been an attempt at a cornfield. The former owner of the land hadn't expected this particular patch of land to be so deprived of the nutrients required to grow grass, much less the crop he had staked his financial well-being upon. He had become quite aware of the losing battle when the ground had all but spit out the yellow kernels as black and hollow husks. If he had been aware of the door that laid deep below the surface of the ground he had been trying to grow the plants in, he would probably have gone running for the hills, or the nearest church.

Unfortunately, there was no way he could have known that the very energy seeping into the ground making it volatile would find its way in to his own mind during the single year he spent trying to make the decision to dump all of his money into the plot a worthwhile choice. There was no way he could have known that exactly one year after he first set foot on to the place that he would be sitting in the local mental institution staring blankly at a wall mumbling about a void no human was ever meant to see.

When he died less than three weeks later, the bank had put a “For Sale” sign on the land. It stuck up from the ground until the elements faded the bright writing away, and it became one of those properties that fell through the cracks as it shuffled around in the system of more appealing purchases.

That was, until almost a decade later, when a man in an expensive five-piece suit walked into the bank asking to speak with the president of the establishment. The man was charming enough to disarm anyone he was speaking with in a way that, had anyone really been paying attention to the ease in which it happened, would have made them fear for their very souls. They hadn't noticed, however, and before long the engaging man with professionally short midnight hair and piercing, dark brown eyes had the female bank president completely enthralled.

It wasn't the sharp and attractive features of his face that drew her in. No, she was far too smart to be taken in by a pretty face and a fancy suit. Years of dealing with business men and women had sharpened her skill of rifling through bullshit and pipe dreams. It was his confidence that drew her in at first, and it slowly mixed in with an attribute she couldn't quite describe. After having checked the credentials he had given her, she discovered he had more than enough money to pay the offer he had presented to her for the property. It was an offer that was more than quadruple the listing price.

While she couldn't see the appeal of the dead piece of land that sat on the outskirts of her town hidden by brush and now overgrown woods, she had finally accepted his offer. When he smiled his approval, her stomach dropped to her feet. The gesture had sent a sense of unnerving through her that had her hair standing on end, and could only be described as wicked. He hadn't given her a chance to go back on her acceptance of his offer, and he grasped her hand in a handshake to seal the deal. She had fought with everything she had not to jerk away when she came in contact with his cold skin. The connection made an overwhelming sense of dread crash over her so hard that she could have sworn the light in the room hit his eyes in way that made them appear to be deep black orbs, threatening to drag her down.

As the suited man walked out onto the moonlit field, that same wicked smile was painted on his face. After all these years he had found the doorway, one that he was sure God had loathed having to make after his Archangel had fallen and created those first dark beings. His eyes flashed to black again as he pulled a glass jar of dark red liquid from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He walked in a circle as he poured the thick substance onto the ground in the shape of sigils that predated even the earliest Sumerian cuneiform. All the while he chanted a language long since dead enough to not be in any written form. When he had completed the circle, the ground beneath him began to rumble and he stepped outside of the markings just as they began to glow with an eerie black hue.

Thunder rolled above his head and lightning lit up the sky as the dirt within the circle began to shift and swirl. A thick tar like substance started to bubble up from the dirt, jerking and spasming as it was drawn to the center like metal to a magnet. The substance pooled and started to build on itself, slowly forming a humanoid shape. With another crash of thunder, the vile liquid crashed back into the ground to reveal an exact copy of the suited man standing in the center of the circle with pure loathing etched into his features.

“Eligos,” the copy growled, addressing the man that summoned it. “To what do I owe the annoyance of being called on by a mighty Duke of Hell.” it's voice held a disgusted tone as it mocked the being in front of it. “Had I been sleeping when you called I would have dragged you down to my domain on sheer principle, so I advise you to tread lightly.”

Eligos bowed respectfully as he spoke. “Oh great being of the Empty, please, pardon my intrusion, but, I am in need of your assistance.”

“MY ASSISTANCE?!” the Empty Entity barked. “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WOULD WASTE MY TIME WITH THE LIKES OF YOU?!”

“Because I will make it worth your while,” Eligos said cooly, not even phased by the primal shout that had come from the being in front of him as he straightened his posture. “I have discovered that you know a good deal when one presents itself.”

The Empty Entity regarded the Duke with interest, though it's ire was still prominent. “What is it that you want, Eligos. My patience is already thin. Don't make it worse.”

“The Archangel, Gabriel.”

The Empty threw it's head back in a spurt of laughter so sinister that the wildlife around the area, had there been any dumb enough to wander close, would have scurried away in haste. “Why would I even entertain the idea of freeing an Archangel?”

“Because I offer two of my sixty legions of demonic soldiers for him.”

The Empty scoffed at his bargain. “Twelve thousand demon souls for an ARCHANGEL?! Even one as broken as Gabriel is worth far more than that.”

“Then name your price,” Eligos insisted, his calm exterior never faltering.

“What use could you have for an Archangel with low grace and a hefty dose of PTSD? Your superior really did quite the number on him. But, you know that. Asmodeus confided in you and you alone about his pet, among other things.”

For the first time Eligos’ still presentation faltered as his eyebrow arched in questioning.

“I receive the memories of each being that comes to my domain,” the Empty explained before he could ask. “Asmodeus was sick, even by my standards. I will only ask one more time why you want one of his broken toys.”

“Gabriel's low grace makes him vulnerable and open to... persuasion.”

“I see. You understand how devastatingly wrong darkening an angel can go, correct?”

“I have the means to control him once he's mine.”

The Empty crossed it's arms over it's chest as the being contemplated the request made by the Duke. “I want half.”

“HALF?!” Eligos spat, his tranquil demeanor completely falling. “You want HALF of my army?!”

“Yes,” The Empty confirmed. “A hundred and eighty thousand demon souls should fit the bill.”

Eligos snarled as he bit back on the expletive words on the tip of his tongue. He took a second to center himself again before he spoke. “Deal.”

“Not quite. You still need to...what's the saying? Ah, yes, sweeten the pot.”

“What else could you possibly want?!”

“Oh, you know exactly what I want.”

Realization crashed down on to the Duke and he glared at the entity before him. “You know I can't give you that.”

“I'm well aware of the rules, Eligos. I am, however, the one that had to agree to them all those eons ago with that pompous idiot that plagued the universe with his perverse creations. I am also very much conscious of your connection with what I want. If anyone can make it happen, it's you. Or...do you doubt your control over the abomination?”

“No!” Eligos spat. “She will do as I say. But, only after I have Gabriel how I want him.”

“Fair enough,” the Empty said as he closed the distance between them and extended his hand toward the demon Duke.

Eligos grasped his offered hand and shook. Thunder crashed as lightning streaked the sky, the sound causing the ground to shake. Swirling black smoke filled the air above their heads as the sound of desperate screaming ripped around the area. With another clap of thunder, the black cloud was sucked into the circle on the ground and disappeared beneath the dirt.

***

Gabriel sucked in a harsh breath as his eyes shot open. Pain seared through his skull as his blurry vision started to focus on... nothing. A complete black void surrounded him, yet somehow he laid on a sturdy surface. He jerked to a sitting position as he clutched at his chest, searching for the wound that he was sure had ended his life. He was shocked to find his body free of blood or the hole he knew he should have. He was certain he had died. Wasn't he?

“Yes, you are definitely dead,” a voice drawled from behind him.

A voice he knew well, and the sound of it took him completely off guard as he scrambled to his feet to whirl around. He then came face to face with... himself?

“What the hell?” Gabriel whispered.

“Not exactly,” he watched the other him say. “Just your friendly neighborhood primordial being.”

It finally dawned on the Archangel with whom he was speaking to. “You're the Empty Entity.”

“DING DING DING! Give the angel a prize!”

“Why am I awake?” Gabriel asked, then rolled his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “Winchesters. What have those idiots broken now?”

“Oh, trust me angel, you are going to wish it was those boys that bargained for your broken being.”

The next thing Gabriel's mind registered was the feeling of being thrown to the ground as his body forcefully coughed up the dirt that had somehow found its way into his lungs. Slowly he started to realize there was a breeze. There had been nothing but stillness in the Empty and the sudden change had his head jerking up even as his coughing persisted.

He was back on Earth.

His Earth.

He was alive.

Why?!

That's when fire erupted in a circle around him, flames he quickly recognized as holy fire. A growl rose from his chest as he pushed himself to his feet, facing the figure that was now illuminated by the flames. Rage rushed through the Archangel's system at the sight of the Demon Duke.

“Eligos,” he snarled.

“Gabriel!” Eligos retorted with mock excitement. “So nice to see you up and moving, though I think I preferred you chained with your mouth sewn shut.”

“I swear I'll incinerate you where you stand-”

“And how do you plan on doing that while you are trapped in holy fire with low grace?”

Gabriel's eyes flicked up to the sky at the dark storm clouds that had moved in. He turned back to the Duke with a smirk on his face. “I do believe it looks like rain.”

As the last word left his mouth, mother nature smiled on him and the first drops of rain started to fall. They landed on the fire with a sizzle that caused the flames to jump.

“Only a matter of time,” Gabriel continued. “Even low on grace, I'll have no problem doing away with you.”

Eligos barked out a laugh as he gestured to the Enochian symbols around the outside of the fire that the Archangel had missed in his anger. He studied the symbols closely for a moment. They had been altered with dark magic, a sinister power that he hadn't seen since before Lucifer had been locked away. His stomach dropped as he realized what the Duke intended to do and his eyes shot back to him.

“You see, Gabriel,” Eligos started, “that fire won't matter once I've darkened what little grace still resides within you, because then you will be mine to control.”

“NO!” Gabriel shouted, frantically looking around for a way to deter the Duke's plan.

“Yes!” Eligos said as an evil cackle started to flow from him.

He started to chant in a language that was a mix of Enochian and Latin, causing the sigils around Gabriel to glow and the holy fire to roar to a size that towered over his head. Immense pressure punched into his chest, sending him to his knees. He could feel the magic seeping through the fire and into his vessel. He fought against the parasitic force with every ounce of strength he had, but he could feel it invading into the very sense of who and what he was. Could feel it twisting around his grace, forcing the shadow of his large wings to blaze forth into existence. The flames licked and sighed at his shadowed feathers and an idea formed through the suffocating pain it caused. He had no choice. He couldn't allow himself to become what this magic was trying to drag him towards.

He wouldn't allow it.

With a renewed strength he contributed to the pure adrenaline of the moment, he reached behind his back and grasped at his own wing. His fingers knotted into the soft shadowed feathers, and with one last breath to accept what he was about to do, he pulled. With twisting and wrenching motions he jerked on his wing with all his might, the pain exploding into his being and blurring his vision. A feeling like magma being poured into his vessel stampeded through his body, making his throat constrict and his feathered appendages jerk of their own accord almost like they were trying to escape. He was vaguely aware of Eligos’ failed attempts at coming through the amped holy fire to stop him, but when the base of his wing separated from not only his vessel but his very being, a scream of agony ripped from his lips that sent the ground trembling. The blur of his vision turned to complete darkness for a split second before he pulled himself back from the edge of unconscious by pure will alone. He wouldn't succumb and let this demon win. Not again! Not ever again! Eligos crashed to the ground as Gabriel started the same process with his other wing. When it, too, was torn from him, both wings burned to ash as his grace shot out from the gaping wounds in his back. The ash and grace swirled around him, dousing the flames with a force that sent the Duke flying through the air out of sight and leveling everything within a twenty mile radius.

There was silence, then, as his grace shot into the sky and vanished.

Gabriel was left lying flat on his stomach, gasping for air. The wounds on his back had somehow been healed, but he still felt the agonizing emptiness from what he had done. His skin was covered in a thick layer of sweat as nausea rolled through his stomach threatening to spill the bile that his stomach now created. His body trembled as he forced himself to roll to his back, trying to control his breath and attempting to grasp what he now was.

Human.

Chapters 1 through 3 are up on Ao3. Continue reading here...

[proxylynn]

Lynchtale: File Name Game of Death #3

Chapter 3: Know the rules, so you can break them.

WARNING: THIS IS A MATURE STORY THAT WILL HAVE BLOOD, GORE, PSYCHOLOGICAL SURVIVAL HORROR, HEAVY CURSING, AND LIKELY SEXUAL THEMES/BONING. I DO NOT OWN UNDERTALE, THAT BELONGS TO LORD TOBY FOX. I DO NOT OWN DEAD BY DAYLIGHT, THAT BELONGS TO BEHAVIOUR DIGITAL INC.. I DON'T OWN THE AU'S THAT SOME OF THE CHARACTERS COME FROM, THEY BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE CREATORS. I DON'T OWN THE IDEA FOR LYNCHTALE, THAT BELONGS TO PUNNYSIDEUP (AKA. SANSFULPUNS). WHAT I DO OWN IS MY SELF-INSERT OC ANOMALY LYNSIE AND THE LOVE OF FAN PARODY. IF YOU'RE STILL READING THIS, THEN CONGRATULATIONS ON EITHER BEING ONE WITH STRONG DETERMINATION OR AN ENDLESS WILL TO OVERCOME THE CHALLENGE OF STOMACHING WHAT I HAVE IN MIND. EITHER WAY, IF YOU LIKE THIS AND/OR MY OTHER CONTENT, SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE ETERNAL PUNISHMENT. HAVE FUN SINNERS. ^_^

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[Elsewhere: Killer Shack]

*CLANG-CLANG*

"Tra la la. The meeting will now come to order."

Wraith materializes and gets the other killers attention.

"As we have been doing for the last five feed cycles...Tra la la...We will now see if anyone has encountered the new Survivor. Show of hands?"

The room is very still. Till one hand goes up in a cocky way.

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE JOKING."

Trapper says bitterly.

"IF ANYONE SHOULD'VE GOTTEN TO HAVE A STAB AT THE NEW MEAT IT'S ME. I AM THE FIRST CHOSEN. IT IS MY RIGHT TO SPILL THEIR PATHETIC BLOOD UPON THE NEW HUNT."

This is indeed true. While not technically oldest killer, by place in time that's no doubt Plague as she's from a time between 1895-539 BC and by age that is up for questioning as time has no effect on them thus they haven't aged nor have they cared to ask what any of them were, but Trapper does hold the title of first taken by the Entity so he is the senior killer. In order of their arrival there was Trapper, Wraith, Hillbilly, Nurse, Shape, Hag, Doctor, Huntress, Cannibal, Nightmare, Pig, Clown, Spirit, Legion, Plague, and the latest one recruited being Ghost Face. But screw this seniority hierarchy bullshit! Legion's grin is wide, full of bravado, and no one likes it.

"Legion, is it true? Did you come across the human in your trial? Tra la la."

"ah, what's the matter? can't stand that it wasn't any of you that got to have fun with the new meat? well, suck it! that was one of the best hunts i've had ever! *manic laughter*"

Ghost Face creeps his way nearby.

"My my...Two of us now has had her all to themselves. Tell us, darling, how did it go? Was she as Wraith told us? How did you kill her? Details. They are important. Do share."

Feeling like the cock of the walk, Legion puts his hands in his pockets coolly.

"now i'm not one to kill and tell, but since you asked...i didn't kill her."

This gets some odd looks his way.

".........?"

"The Shape is right, deary. How did you not kill her?"

Plague asks legitimately.

"heh...i'll tell you, but i want something in exchange."

"✡⚐🕆 ⚐☠☹✡ 👍⚐☠❄✋☠🕆☜ ❄⚐ ✌💣✌☪☜ 💣☜ 🕈✋❄☟ ❄☟☜ ☜✞☜☼ ☝☼⚐🕈✋☠☝ ☹☜✞☜☹💧 ⚐☞ 👌⚐☹👎☠☜💧💧 ✡⚐🕆 ☝☜❄ ✌💧 ❄✋💣☜ 🏱✌💧💧☜💧📬" (YOU ONLY CONTINUE TO AMAZE ME WITH THE EVER GROWING LEVELS OF BOLDNESS YOU GET AS TIME PASSES.)

The Doctor remarks with a thought they all shared.

"trust me. the info i got is worth it. all i want is a gruesome gateau. and i know at least one of you still has one. you give me that, and i'll tell you every single thing that went down. every...last...little...detail."

"For the Entity's sake! Someone pay the man! I can't take this tease!"

Ghost Face is a needy one. But as a recently recruited killer, it's not like he had the item of request.

"How do we know what you have to say is worth it? For all we know, you're just playing us like a fox with a hare."

Huntress makes a valid point.

"fine. if you really need a sample...she helped me kill the other humans."

This little snippet of what he knew is just tempting enough to win over the majority.

"I shall deliver the offering to you after the meeting, dear."

Nurse says politely and Legion rubs his hands together deviously.

"alright. thank you kindly, lady. now gather round papa legion, kiddies, for i got quite the story to tell."

And he wasn't lying. Legion tells them everything. From her unique terror radius, to her resentment leading to betrayal, and her bizarre behavior before he stopped it from getting worst, to then letting her escape through the hatch. The only things he didn't mention are the small joke moments and the personal torture time. Somethings are just to enjoyed by the ones involved. Not like she enjoyed it. But he certainly did.

"T-This human is an odd one. They n-normally don't t-turn on each other unless w-we're going at them hard."

Pig stutters in thought.

"I'LL GIVE HER CREDIT. SHE DIDN'T STAND FOR THEIR BULLSHIT."

Trapper says with a smirk.

"Come on. she's just a messed up Human. quit sucking her dick like she's the god of all Humans."

Nightmare spats unimpressed.

"hAG thought human was she?"

Oh, Hag, you special bundle of try. Nightmare just glares and shakes his head, he's not one known for his patience.

"What do you think, Doctor? Tra la la."

"✋ ❄☟✋☠😐 ❄☟☜ 💣⚐☼☜ ✋☠❄☜☼☜💧❄✋☠☝ ✌💧🏱☜👍❄ ⚐☞ ☹☜☝✋⚐☠🕯💧 ✌👍👍⚐🕆☠❄ 🕈✌💧 ❄☟✌❄ 💣⚐💣☜☠❄ ☠☜✌☼ ❄☟☜ ☜☠👎📬 ✋❄ 💧☜☜💣☜👎📬📬📬⚐👎👎☹✡ ☼☜💣✋☠✋💧👍☜☠❄📬" (I THINK THE MORE INTERESTING ASPECT OF LEGION'S ACCOUNT WAS THAT MOMENT NEAR THE END. IT SEEMED...ODDLY REMINISCENT.)

"You mean the part where she was TURNING?"

That got them to look at Spirit.

"What? You can't tell me it's not OBVIOUS."

"*cough* Would you care to explain? *hack*"

Clown snarkily questioned through his smoker's lung-like coughing.

"I mean, I don't know if any of you remember, but I know the ENTITY likes to do things to the ones IT LIKES. You can't believe we LOOK LIKE THIS ON PURPOSE."

She brought up a good point. They didn't remember much about their pasts, but they knew most of them weren't as disfigured when they first were claimed by the Entity. Trapper didn't put the iron rods and hooks into his bones. Nurse didn't choke herself with a pillowcase over her head. Hag didn't cake herself in muck and deform her hands. Spirit didn't impale her body in shards of glass and she didn't sever her arms or implant a sword in one. Legion didn't merge with other people because they wanted to. Doctor didn't strap himself into his electroconvulsive gear to pry his eyes and mouth open, nor did he stream the wires into his bones. Wraith didn't lose it's form and identity because it felt like doing so. These were things the Entity did, taking what it knew of them and adding to them, sometimes as a punishment. Sure, other killers didn't go through such visible changes like them. Huntress and Clown only seemed to have blackened out eyes, like a creepy doll or a monstrous shark. Shape, Pig, Ghost Face, and Cannibal were unknowns as they wore masks and tended to don fully covering outfits. The hardest to tell if the Entity did anything to were Plague, Hillbilly, and Nightmare. All three were brought in with some sort of disfigurement so its really hard to say what was done to them if anything.

"SO WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS...THAT HUMAN, FOR WHATEVER REASON, WAS BECOMING A MONSTER?"

Trapper has a totally non-asshole sounding tone.

"That's my IDEA at least."

It is just an suspicion Spirit had and nothing concrete.

"...THAT'S JUST STUPID."

Never mind, Trapper is just an asshole.

"You shouldn't dismiss it so soon. Tra la la. Nothing is beyond reason when it comes to the Entity."

A very good point made by Wraith.

"✋☞ ❄☟✋💧 ❄☟☜⚐☼✡ ✋💧 ❄⚐ 👌☜ 👌☜☹✋☜✞☜👎📪 🕈☜ 💣🕆💧❄ ☼🕆☠ ✋❄ ❄☟☼⚐🕆☝☟ ✌ ❄☜💧❄📬" (IF THIS THEORY IS TO BE BELIEVED, WE MUST RUN IT THROUGH A TEST.)

Doctor being doctor, always wanting to experiment.

"..........?"

Good question asked by Shape.

"✋ 🏱☼⚐🏱⚐💧☜ ❄☟✌❄ 🕈☜ ✌☝☼☜☜ ❄⚐ ☼🕆☠ ❄☟✋💧 ☟🕆💣✌☠ ❄☟☼⚐🕆☝☟ ✌ 💧☜☼✋☜💧 ⚐☞ 💧❄☼☜💧💧 ❄☜💧❄💧📬 ☞☼⚐💣 🕈☟✌❄ ☹☜☝✋⚐☠ 👎☜💧👍☼✋👌☜👎📪 ☟☜☼ ☜💣⚐❄✋⚐☠✌☹ 💧❄✌❄☜ 💣✌✡ 🏱☹✌✡ ✌ ☼⚐☹☜ ✋☠ ❄☟✋💧 🕯❄🕆☼☠✋☠☝🕯 👌☜☟✌✞✋⚐☼📬 ✌☠✡ ⚐☞ 🕆💧 ❄☟✌❄ ☝☜❄ ❄⚐ ☟🕆☠❄ ☟☜☼ ☠☜✠❄ 💧☟⚐🕆☹👎 🕆💧☜ ❄☟☜ 💧❄☼✌☠☝☜ ☼✌👎✋🕆💧 ❄⚐ ☞✋☠👎 ☟☜☼ ✌☠👎 💣✌😐☜ ❄☟✋☠☝💧 ✌💧 ✋☼☼✋❄✌❄✋☠☝ ✌💧 🏱⚐💧💧✋👌☹☜📬" (I PROPOSE THAT WE AGREE TO RUN THIS HUMAN THROUGH A SERIES OF STRESS TESTS. FROM WHAT LEGION DESCRIBED, HER EMOTIONAL STATE MAY PLAY A ROLE IN THIS 'TURNING' BEHAVIOR. ANY OF US THAT GET TO HUNT HER NEXT SHOULD USE THE STRANGE RADIUS TO FIND HER AND MAKE THINGS AS IRRITATING AS POSSIBLE.)

Toxicity works on both ends of this twisted game.

"What of the other Survivors, deary? Surely they won't let a fellow human go attacked for very long."

Crud, a flaw pointed out by Plague.

"*scoff* those idiots? after that trial and the stunt she pulled, they're going to be looking for reasons to let her get hooked."

A very sad but true fact stated by Legion.

"✌☹☹ ❄☟☜ 👌☜❄❄☜☼ ☞⚐☼ ❄☟✋💧 🏱☹✌☠📬 🕈✋❄☟ ☟☜☼ ❄☜✌💣 ☞🕆☼❄☟☜☼ ✋💧⚐☹✌❄✋☠☝ ☟☜☼ ✌☠👎 🕈✋❄☟ 🕆💧 💣✌😐✋☠☝ ❄☟✋☠☝💧 👎✋☞☞✋👍🕆☹❄📪 ✋❄ 💧☟⚐🕆☹👎☠🕯❄ 👌☜ ❄⚐⚐ ☟✌☼👎 ❄⚐ 💣✌😐☜ ☟☜☼ 💧☠✌🏱 🕆☠👎☜☼ ❄☟☜ 🏱☼☜💧💧🕆☼☜📬" (ALL THE BETTER FOR THIS PLAN. WITH HER TEAM FURTHER ISOLATING HER AND WITH US MAKING THINGS DIFFICULT, IT SHOULDN'T BE TOO HARD TO MAKE HER SNAP UNDER THE PRESSURE.)

Cue the dramatic evil music score followed by the rumblings of thunder and lighting.

"Oh man, this is gonna be awesome! That punk is going down!"

Huntress needs very little reason to hunt humans.

"oH! hAG have question!"

A simple one is the Hag, questioning things is her specialty.

"Yes? Tra la la."

"WhaT happENS when the hooman sNaps?"

Not a bad question really.

"The darling does bring up a fair point. If and when the human does crack, what then?"

As curious as he is, Ghost Face is a cautious one and thinks ahead when it comes to his methods.

"don't know. i didn't let things get that far. she was hurting herself to make it stop when i stabbed her."

The mystery continues to mystify.

"☟💣💣💣📬📬📬❄☟☜☠ 🕈☜ 👎⚐ ☟✌✞☜ ✌ 💧💣✌☹☹ 👍☹🕆☜ ✌💧 ❄⚐ 🕈☟✌❄ ❄⚐ 👎⚐ ✋☞ 💧☟☜ 👌☜👍⚐💣☜💧 ✌ 🏱☼⚐👌☹☜💣📬 💧☜☹☞ 🏱✌✋☠ 👎☜☹✌✡💧 ❄☟✋💧 🕯❄🕆☼☠✋☠☝🕯 👌🕆❄ ✋❄🕯💧 ☠⚐❄ ✌💧 💧❄☼⚐☠☝ ✌💧 ❄☼🕆☜ ☟✌☼💣☞🕆☹ ✋☠❄☜☠❄📬 ❄☟☜☼☜☞⚐☼☜📬📬📬✋☞ ❄☟☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠ 👎⚐☜💧 ✋☠👎☜☜👎 💧☠✌🏱📪 🕈☜ ✌☼☜ ❄⚐ 💣⚐☠✋❄⚐☼ ☟☜☼ ✌☠👎 ☹☜✌☼☠ 🕈☟✌❄ ❄☟✋💧 💧❄✌❄☜ 💣☜✌☠💧 ☞⚐☼ 🕆💧📬 ☟⚐🕈☜✞☜☼📪 ✋☞ 💧☟☜ 👌☜👍⚐💣☜💧 ✌☠ ✋💧💧🕆☜ ❄☟☜☠ 👌✡ ✌☹☹ 💣☜✌☠💧 👎⚐ 🕈☟✌❄ ✋❄ ❄✌😐☜💧 ❄⚐ 😐☠⚐👍😐 ☟☜☼ 👌✌👍😐 ✋☠❄⚐ ☟☜☼ ☠⚐☼💣✌☹ 💧❄✌❄☜📬 👎⚐☜💧 ❄☟✋💧 💧⚐🕆☠👎 ☼☜✌💧⚐☠✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ ❄☟☜ ☼☜💧❄ ⚐☞ ✡⚐🕆✍" (HMMM...THEN WE DO HAVE A SMALL CLUE AS TO WHAT TO DO IF SHE BECOMES A PROBLEM. SELF PAIN DELAYS THIS 'TURNING' BUT IT'S NOT AS STRONG AS TRUE HARMFUL INTENT. THEREFORE...IF THE HUMAN DOES INDEED SNAP, WE ARE TO MONITOR HER AND LEARN WHAT THIS STATE MEANS FOR US. HOWEVER, IF SHE BECOMES AN ISSUE THEN BY ALL MEANS DO WHAT IT TAKES TO KNOCK HER BACK INTO HER NORMAL STATE. DOES THIS SOUND REASONABLE TO THE REST OF YOU?)

A general sound of acceptance is let out. It's settled.

"hey!"

Oh? Seems something is still on Legion's mind.

"let's get something straight before any of you get ideas when dealing with her. she's mine. so don't go thinking you can have any fun times with her."

This declaration gets their attention.

"Yours?"

Hillbilly is befuddled.

"ARE YOU TRYING TO CLAIM OBSESSION RIGHTS TO THE NEW MEAT?"

Trapper sneers.

"trying to claim? no. i already staked it. i sliced my name into her chest. that human belongs to me."

Obsession rights are not easy to get among killers. Currently, only three had them. Shape claimed the human named Laurie, Nightmare claimed the human named Quentin, and Pig claimed the human named Tapp. They were able to do this because they were brought here along with said humans. Sure, other humans have been brought from spots where the killers came from, but this didn't count as there is no direct affiliation. Legion would have to make a very strong case to pass this before the others.

"Did he just say...?"

Cannibal can't even finish.

"You cocky little shit!"

Ghost Face grabs Legion and pins him against a wall.

"What gives you the right to mark the human before bringing up your claim? Do you want me to kick your ass?"

Before things escalate, Shape comes and parts them from each other.

".........."

"But he broke the rules!"

"....."

Ghost Face huffs in annoyance and backs off, leading to Shape turning to Legion.

".........?"

"don't make it sound like something it's not. she's just a quirky human that happened to make killing more interesting. that's it. marking her was a heat of the moment thing. but i figured, what the hell, this might lead to more fun in the future. so i did it."

".............?"

"*scoff* please. don't give me that crap. if you three can handle your unwilling toys, then i should have no trouble with a plaything that actually will play back."

".......?"

"what? no, i'm not going to stalk her. why would i?"

"See?! He can't even fill the role! His claim for obsession rights are trash!"

Ghost Face is clearly sour over this as stalking prey is kind of his thing. Shape is also a stalking killer, as is Nightmare and somewhat Pig. Hell, nearly all of them were stalkers in some way or another except for a few that couldn't help but make very obvious noise without the help of add-ons to quiet them down.

"geez, man. what crawled up your dress to make you such a bitch?"

"This isn't a dress! It's a shroud! For the killer that needs concealment, but craves attention. Black fabrics help give cover, white glossy textures provide fashionable accents. The long jacket helps to keep the rest of the clothes dry as blood splashes with each stab of the knife."

"whatever, weirdo."

"Fuck you!"

Aggravated with the both of them, Nurse slaps them both on the back of the head as a ticked off mom would do.

"Both of you quit this nonsensical squabbling. Honestly...Half the time I cannot tell you apart from babbling children whining over who took the last cookie from the jar."

"But he..."

"No buts. What is done is done. If Legion has marked his claim, I think he should keep it."

Nurse's words take a few back, though none could see the cunning smirk hidden behind that clothe hood.

"What say you, little man? Can you show us that your bite is as strong as your bark and actually do as you claim? Or will you prove the naysayers right by continuing to boast like a pitiful whelp starving for attention?"

Legion snarls.

"i am so sick of everyone talking down to me like i'm some sort of joke. well, you know what? fuck you! fuck all of you! i'm just as ruthless as you assholes, if not more so! i don't need your stinking approval. that human is mine. and i'm going to show you all that i'm not to be fucked with!"

Legion shows that he's a mature person by storming out of there like a fed-up kid going to brood in their room.

"You didn't have to goad him like that. Tra la la. You know how unpredictable he can be."

Nurse shrugs dismissively at Wraith.

"Funny. Because he reacted just as I predicted. Like a child."

"N-Now that he's gone, c-can we discuss his claim p-properly?"

Fairly asked by Pig.

"IF THE RUNT THINKS HE CAN HANDEL THINGS LIKE A MAN, THEN FUCK IT. LET HIM TRY. IT'LL BE HILARIOUS WHEN HE FAILS. AND IT'S NOT LIKE IT'LL ITERFER WITH US IN ANY WAY."

Ghost Face is not taking this line of talk from Trapper well.

"You can't be serious? What if I went out and claimed a human as my obsession? How would you react to that?"

"I'D BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU AND TAKE YOUR OFFERINGS."

"But...That's hypocrisy! Why can he get away with it and not me?!"

Trapper growls lowly.

"FOR ONE, HE'S BEEN HERE LONGER THAN YOU. YOU'VE BEEN HERE FOR ALMOST THREE MONTHS WORTH OF FEEDING CYCLES WHEREAS THIS WILL BE HIS NINTH. SECOND, YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A TERRITORY WHERE YOU CAN CONDUCT YOUR BUSINESS. YOU'VE BEEN LOITERING IN ALL OF OURS LIKE SOME BUM. AND THIRD, IT'S NOT AMUSING WHEN YOU FAIL. YOU ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND ENJOY IT. HIM ON THE OTHER HAND...?"

Trapper folds his arms and shuts his eyes.

"LEGION MIGHT HAVE BEEN CHOSEN BY THE ENTITY, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE'S A NATURAL KILLER."

Ghost Face is confused.

"What do you mean?"

"*SIGH* IT'S LIKE SPIRIT SAID, JUST LOOK AT US. WE DON'T LOOK LIKE THIS FOR NO REASON. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY TO REFUSE THE ENTITY'S OFFER OF SERVITUDE. IT DOESN'T TAKE REJECTION WELL."

"*cough* Typical woman. *hack*"

Clown is glared at venomously by the females for that.

"MY POINT BEING, SOME OF US ARE HERE BECAUSE THIS IS LIKE A PARADISE. ENDLESS SLAUGHTER AND NO REAL CONSEQUENCES. SO YOU PROBABLY TOOK TO IT WITH NO ISSUE. BUT FOR THE REST OF US, THE ONES THAT SAID NO AT THE START...WELL...YOU SEE WHY WE THEN SAID YES WHEN ASKED AGAIN."

"But what does that have to do with him?"

"BECAUSE HE SAID NO TO ALL THIS. HE MAY KILL BUT IT'S NOT SOMETHING HE WANTS TO DO. HE HAS TO DO IT. HE HAS TO PROVE HIMSELF. TO THE ENTITY, TO US, AND HIMSELF. IT SHOWS THAT HE KNOWS HE CAN DO BETTER. I RESPECT THAT DRIVE EVEN IF HE'S A LITTLE SHIT. AND AS ENTERTAINING AS IT IS TO SEE HIM FAIL, I'D BE LYING IF I SAID I WASN'T LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING HIM SUCCEED."

This doesn't seem to help Ghost Face at all.

"So just because I'm new, good at my job, and like it, I don't get to have the same rights as that jackass? That's bullshit!"

"NOT TO MENTION, YOU'RE ALSO A WHINY LITTLE BITCH THAT PISSES ME OFF."

"Fuck you!"

The sudden sound of bone on metal bashes when Trapper rushes over and punches Ghost Face's face, knocking the shrouded killer across the room.

"KNOW YOUR PLACE, NEWBIE. YOU WANT RIGHTS? RESPECT? POWER? THEN FUCKING EARN IT! DON'T BITCH ABOUT LIKE YOU'RE ENTITLED. TAKE TIME TO PROVE YOU SHOULD AND THEN WE'LL TALK."

Ghost Face sneers yet relents...for now. He'll have to bide his time and find some other way to play things his way.

"Um...Other than this stuff, are there any other matters that need to be brought up? Tra la la."

Wraith queries to which Huntress raises her ax up high.

"Oh! I have noticed the signs of an upcoming Blood Hunt."

"Hmmm...Tra la la...This is twice now one has come around All Hallows' Eve."

"☟⚐🕈 ✌🏱🏱☼⚐🏱☼✋✌❄☜📬 💧☜☜✋☠☝ ✌💧 ❄☟☜ ☟✌☹☹⚐🕈☜👎 👌☹✋☝☟❄ ✋💧 ❄☟☜☠ ✌💧 🕈☜☹☹📬" (HOW APPROPRIATE. SEEING AS THE HALLOWED BLIGHT IS THEN AS WELL.)

This gets some odd looks from Plague and Ghost Face.

"I will explain. Once a year for two weeks worth of feedings, the Entity undergoes a purge. During this period, the Entity is infested with blight. The cankers bloom into a strange type of flower that spurts putrid nectar. A thick fluid that oozes like pus from infected wounds."

Nurse explains.

"YOU FORGET THAT IT'S ALSO THE TIME WHERE THOSE OTHER ASSHOLES LIKE TO MESS WITH US. FUCKING HUMANS."

Trapper spits venomously.

"How are the humans trouble during that time, deary?"

"✋☞ ✡⚐🕆 ❄☟✋☠😐 ✋🕯💣 ❄🕈✋💧❄☜👎📪 ❄☟☜☼☜ ✌☼☜ ❄🕈⚐ ☟🕆💣✌☠ 💣✌☹☜💧 ❄☟✌❄ 🏱🕆❄ 💣☜ ❄⚐ 💧☟✌💣☜📬 ❄☟☜✡ ☟✌✞☜ ☜☹🕆👎☜👎 🕆💧 ✌☠👎 ☜✞☜☠ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡ ☞⚐☼ ✈🕆✋❄☜ 💧⚐💣☜ ❄✋💣☜📬 ❄☟☜ 👍☹☜✞☜☼ 👌✌💧❄✌☼👎💧 ☹✋😐☜ ❄⚐ 👌☜ ☜✞☜☠ 👌⚐☹👎☜☼ ❄☟✌☠ ☹☜☝✋⚐☠ ✌☠👎 ✌👌👎🕆👍❄ 💧⚐💣☜ ⚐☞ 🕆💧📬" (IF YOU THINK I'M TWISTED, THERE ARE TWO HUMAN MALES THAT PUT ME TO SHAME. THEY HAVE ELUDED US AND EVEN THE ENTITY FOR QUITE SOME TIME. THE CLEVER BASTARDS LIKE TO BE EVEN BOLDER THAN LEGION AND ABDUCT SOME OF US.)

That's something they weren't expecting to hear.

"✋❄ 💧☜☜💣💧 ❄☟☜💧☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧 ☟✌✞☜ 💣✌👎☜ 💧⚐💣☜❄☟✋☠☝ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟✋💧 👌☹✋☝☟❄☜👎 🏱🕆💧💧📬 ✌ 🏱🕆❄☼✋👎 💧☜☼🕆💣📬 ❄☟✋💧 💧☜☼🕆💣📪 👍✌🕆💧☜💧 🕆💧 ❄⚐ 💣🕆❄✌❄☜ 🕈☟☜☠ ✋☠☺☜👍❄☜👎 🕈✋❄☟ ✋❄📬 ❄☟✌☠😐☞🕆☹☹✡📪 ❄☟✋💧 🏱✌✋☠☞🕆☹ 💣🕆❄✌❄✋⚐☠ ☹✌💧❄💧 ⚐☠☹✡ ✌💧 ☹⚐☠☝ ✌💧 ❄☟☜ 👌☹✋☝☟❄ ✋❄💧☜☹☞ ☞⚐☼ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡📬" (IT SEEMS THESE HUMANS HAVE MADE SOMETHING FROM THIS BLIGHTED PUSS. A PUTRID SERUM. THIS SERUM, CAUSES US TO MUTATE WHEN INJECTED WITH IT. THANKFULLY, THIS PAINFUL MUTATION LASTS ONLY AS LONG AS THE BLIGHT ITSELF FOR THE ENTITY. )

"Who's been blighted before?"

To this question, five hands are put up. Trapper, Wraith, Hillbilly, Doctor, and Huntress.

"*cough* To their credit. It's not like they haven't tried on the rest of us. *wheeze* Nurse nearly got the stuff but only was messed up a little bit. *hack*"

"I had a pumpkin for a head. I would not call that a little messed up."

So this is a thing. A thing that no one thought they'd picture.

"Should we tell Legion about this? The dear is also not one that knows of this event or it's hassles."

"NAH. HE'LL FIND OUT ONE WAY OR ANOTHER."

"With that said, is there any further business in need of addressing? Tra la la."

No one has anything further after all of that.

"Very well. Tra la la. Meeting adjourned."

*CLANG-CLANG*

With that, Wraith vanishes and takes its leave among the other killers.

[Elsewhere: Survivor Campsite]

"'ow she doin'?"

David asks Claudette and Quentin, both of whom are tending to Lynsie who inexplicably collapsed after returning from the last trial.

"It's odd. There are no signs of anything physically wrong with her. Yet she seems to be suffering from Hypovolemia, a state of decreased intravascular volume. This may be due to either a loss of both salt and water or, the more likely culprit, a decrease in blood volume."

Claudette's so smart. It's no wonder she's the top healer of the group.

"She mentioned that Legion 'ad a bit of fun with 'er. Probably roughed 'er up pretty good. But the Entity should've fixed that. Right? The damn thing always does when we finish trial."

"I was thinking about that..."

Now for Quentin's evil theory of the day!

"From what Dwight said, the Entity was turning her into a killer. And from what we've found in those pages of Benedict Baker's journal, the Entity will punish killers that either don't perform well or downright refuse it. I think this was her punishment, a small warning, for refusing the Entity."

"And just 'ow would the big nasty in the sky know that?"

"Because that son of a bitch is everywhere."

Detective Tapp joins in on the conversion.

"I've been looking at this place like I would a crime scene. Trying to make some sense of things. It ain't easy. But some things are and the Red Stain is one of them."

"'ow do you figure that, ol' man?"

"Boy, I will slap you if you call me that again."

David rolls his eyes.

"Now from what I've gathered, I suspect that the intensity of the Stain is directly linked to the range of the Terror Radius the Killer has, meaning that Killers with a shorter Terror Radius have a fainter Stain and Killers with a larger Terror Radius have a stronger Stain."

"Makes sense so far."

"I also suspect that the Stain works as means for the Entity to watch over the trials directly through the Killer's eyes. An indication of this being the case is the of that Killer ability Beast of Prey, as the Stain is gone because the Killer momentarily loses their connection to the Entity and is free to roam due to their bloodlust being so strong."

"So the moment her eyes made the Stain..."

"The Entity knew. Probably saw through Legion's eyes why it wasn't working on her. Nutty kid for thinking she could fight off something like the Entity."

"Then what do we do?"

A not wild Dwight appears.

"About her I mean."

The group looks at the unconscious member with uncertainty.

"As much as I hate to agree with Nea, she does make a point. If at any moment for any reason a team member can suddenly start attacking the team, that does make her a liable threat."

Claudette makes a point.

"But it wasn't for just any reason. She only snapped because she was angry. Angry that we didn't even treat her like she was on the team."

Dwight says somberly.

"*scoff* Severs you fuckers right then. It's about time there was somethin' to put douchebags in there place around 'ere."

Judgmental eyes are cast onto David.

"What?"

"You have an annoying habit of trying to fight the monsters."

"So?"

"You end up dying 96% of the time."

"'ey, you 'ave the respect my 4% chance of doin' anythin'."

"Maybe if it was actually helpful."

"Says the twat that spends 'is 'elpful time 'indin' in lockers."

"Hey!"

"Will you both shut it. You're bickering isn't helping anyone."

Dwight huffs and David mutters curses under his breath.

"So getting back to the point, we've covered the whole she'll hulk out when angry. But what do we do when she does get in smash mode?"

Quentin's age really shows sometimes.

"The kid makes a good point. A silly one, but a point none the less."

"Thanks?"

"But what do we do if she does become a killer? It's not like we can take down a normal monster."

"The same thing we do to every other monster..."

Nea shouts.

"Bash them over the head with pallets!"

Nea's guide to toxicity rule #1: If there is a chance to smack something with a pallet, do it!

"Yeah...No. That just pisses people off more."

"We're lookin' for ways to not make 'er mad. I think bein' bashed in the 'ead contradicts that."

Nea folds her arms uncaring.

"I don't care if it makes her mad. The goal is to make what's chasing you stop the chase."

"By pissin' them off even more?"

"It's called tactical frustration, dingus! You make the other person so mad that they want nothing to do with you anymore."

"So bein' a cunt?"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you."

*CROWS CAW*

Fluttering shadows morph from the trees and scatter across the ever glowing gloom of the sky. This garners attention above all other matters.

"The crows..."

"Damn it! The Entity was listenin'."

"It's always listening, dork. It just normally doesn't care about what it hears."

"It cared now."

Meg interjects.

"The real question is...Why?"

"In my experience, it's never a good thing for when a supernatural interdimensional elder god takes interest in anything human-related."

Ash rings in with blunt truth. When something beyond human understanding meddles in human affairs it rarely ends without great suffering of some kind. But who would suffer? One of them? All of them? Humans? Monsters? Who bloody well knows?! That's the terrifying aspect of it. Fate's unpredictability.

[Elsewhere: The Void]

My eyes slowly open to fog. Nothing but dark thick fog. The kind of fog that doesn't just blind you but fucks with your other senses. There's this weird floating feeling even though I know I'm touching the ground. Or what I assume is ground. It's something solid and I just choose to believe its ground because I don't want to think of what it could be otherwise. The air has no smell to it, it's dull and messes with my nose. It even has a faint charred smoky taste to it like you've just licked some burnt charcoal. And as for sound, there is none. There's nothing but this weird dead silence that is just eerie enough that I can sense something is around but again all there is quiet. Moving around to explore is not an option. Not that I can't move, I just choose not to because fuck you, I don't want to be automatically killed by unknown danger like the last time I went off into obvious danger zones.

[The Entity sees that you are learning, little worm. No longer running off into the unknown. Very wise.]

Well, that doesn't make me feel better about the situation.

"Look, I'm not gonna beat around the bush here. You can easily mess me up in ways I probably wouldn't begin to think of just for giggles and I'm not dumb enough to piss you off to do so. So in the bluntest way I can think of asking...What the fraggle happened to me and where/why am I here, oh mighty Entity?"

My attitude started to kick in near the end so I figured a little cuteness will keep me from being turned inside out or something else fucked up.

[My, the Entity forgets how bothersome you worms can be. It is no wonder why we do not speak so often. But it is understandable that a worm would be confused by what the Entity does.]

It is at this moment that I come to believe the Entity speaks in the third person and yet in a way that is still grammatically fitting. I guess ego is next to godliness.

[You, you odd and yet interesting little worm, are a strange creature even by what the Entity knows. The Entity has brought you here so that things would be...well...less of a hassle.]

"Sounds reasonable so far. Yet where is HERE exactly?"

[This is the Void. Or that is what you worms tend to call it. It is a different plane of existence. A place where the Entity stores the broken worms that are no longer of any use.]

I remember being told about this place. The Survivors that have given up and lost all hope end up here as they aren't useful food anymore. That explains the feelings this place is giving me.

"Wow. One trial and you deem me Void worthy? Must be a record."

This earns it a bit of a laugh.

[Amusing. No, little worm, you have not warranted a spot of permanence here...yet. The Entity has brought you here for two reasons. The first, to tell you of your role and personal skills in this delicious game. The second will come later.]

I got skillz!

[These skills or Perks are abilities that the Entity is generous enough to allow you to have. Each side is given three, so you worms are just as capable as the beasts. You may choose to share these perks with the other worms or keep them to yourself and hone them to make yourself better. The choice is yours and yours alone.]

So I can either be a decent person and increase the whole team's chances of living or I can be a dick.

[Your first perk is named after that clever move you pulled in the trial...Snowball's Chance.]

This orange diamond or square standing on its points pops up in front of me and it depicts a glob being thrown.

[Snowball's Chance: Activatable Perk. While within the Killer's Terror Radius and in a Chase for 45 seconds activates Snowball's Chance. Once Snowball's Chance is activated, you may be able to scoop whatever you can grab from the ground to throw at or away from the Killer. Choosing the away option will create a loud noise notification for the Killer at a distance of 10/15/20 meters and provides a helpful distraction provided the Killer goes for it. Choosing the at Killer option, if hit in the face, will momentarily blind them as well as stun them, whereas a normal body hit merely provides a stun. Snowball's Chance deactivates once it has been used.]

"That...sounds badass."

Honestly, it kind of feels like an RGP game where I made up a move for my character and some game developer thought it was just cool enough to put the character/move into their game. I'm a fucking nerd and love this shit! The image in the diamond changes to a pic of me crawling with a sneaky grin.

[The second perk is called...Skulker's Instinct.]

Sounds ominous.

[Skulker's Instinct: Always Active Perk. Years of isolation and distrust have taught you a thing about the benefits of paranoia. You crawl close to the floor instead of crouching, this prevents you from leaving Scratch Marks and gives you faster movement speed compared to crouching by 90/95/100%. This level of stealth allows you to avoid alerting Crows but does spook other Survivors if you bump into them, making them yelp and alerting the Killer. Also, if injured, you know better than to make a sound, you hold in the sounds of pain for the first time at least. Any future injuries will cause you to whimper.]

"I suppose that's fair. And I can be creepy as hell, so the random spooking seems about right."

[The third perk is quite delightful. It is called...Breaking Point.]

That one doesn't sound so good and the image of me looking unhinged doesn't help either.

[Breaking Point: Triggered Perk. Due to your mental toughness, you can handle most stressful situations that would cripple a normal person. But you are only human and even you have a limit where things start to get under your skin. The more your team screws around and the Killer attacks you or hinders your progress, the frustrating stress will begin to pile on until you can take it no longer. Resentment Tier I: Your annoyance level begins to grow, you are more agitated and on your guard. Your speed is reduced by 15% and preforming Skill Checks gets hard to do. Resentment Tier II: All effects of Tier I. The continued stress is not helping you, you can not trust your teammates with even the simplest task and the Killer is not making matters better either. Your frustration makes performing Skill Checks extremely difficult as you are not as focused. You aren't sure how much more you can take. Resentment Tier III: All effects of Tier II. You can no longer take it. Everyone is against you. They want you to die. You have no choice. You must kill or be killed!]

This has me disturbed, to say the least.

"Uh..."

[Which leads into your special ability. The Entity has dubbed it...The Anomaly State.]

"Special ability?"

[Yes, special ability. All Killers have one.]

I'm not liking this anymore.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa...Whoa! I am no killer."

[Oh sure. And what you did to Jake was merely some aggressive affection.]

"I didn't want to hurt him!"

[Yes you did.]

"No. I didn't!"

[Yes, you did. You wanted to hurt him for disrespecting you and talking down to you like some lowly worm. And how dare he do such a thing. He does not know you or your hardships. He lived a life of wealth and comfort. How dare he talk to you like he is superior.]

I know what it's doing. It's trying to talk to me like it's on my side. Like it cares. Appealing to me to make me believe in this false sympathy. It is cruel and manipulative...I fucking hate that It's worming into my head!

[And Dwight...He thinks he is so clever, telling you bits and pieces but not whole truths. If he was not willing to tell you everything before, what makes you think he will tell you anything now? Now that he has seen the beast in you.]

It's getting to me. I'm growling softly and making fists.

[Let us not forget David. Surely even you can see that he is merely using you. Pretending to be interested in something more when all he wants is your body. Do you believe that he will remain friendly once he had taken what he has wanted?]

Stop it! Stop making so much sense!

[Face it, little worm. It is as you have always known. You can not rely on others. They have their own motives and desires. No one will help you out of innocence. There is always something others want from you and will do anything to get it. Even if those means include toying with your very heart.]

"And why should I believe you? You have your own motives too."

[That is true. Yet my motive is very clear and the Entity can not lie. The Entity gains no matter if the beasts or worms are successful. The Entity is neither your friend or foe, though you may believe otherwise.]

Damn it! I hate it when something obviously bad makes incredibly good points!

[Now, if you will allow the Entity to continue, the Entity will explain further.]

I bite my tongue. Nothing I say matters to this thing anyway. It's only humoring me for the time being.

[Each Killer has a very unique Power. Each is distinct and stands out from the others. You are no different...and yet you are. This is due to your soul.]

"My soul?"

[Yes. That soul of yours is not natural for one of your kind. It is...rather delectable.]

Creepy.

[But its oddness is why we are speaking and why the Entity sees fit in gifting you such rare power.]

Dare I ask?

"And what be this power that you would bestow upon me?"

It's freaky in how I can almost feel it smirk. The diamond thing changes to a gray square and now shows a split shot of my face. One side is normal. The other side is like Batman villain Twoface.

[Special Ability: Anomaly State. Upon Breaking Point's Resentment Tier III activation, you will undergo a notable mental breakdown and such a snap opens you up to the Entity. The touch of the Entity leaves burning scars and blisters of light. Is it a gift or a curse? That's up to you as you become the Corrupted Survivor. This tainted essence is always within you, giving off a radius that Killers can pick up on and use to track you down similar to the one you can hear to know when a Killer is close by. As the Corrupted Survivor, you only have one goal...Survive. Your team is a liability, holding you down and keeping you in harm's way. Killing them will increase your odds of making it out alive. The fewer there are, the fewer things they can get in the way of. These actions will please the Entity but the real Killer might not be happy about you stealing its prey. True Killers can still attack and kill you in this state, so even they are just another obstacle in your way. You can not kill a Killer. But you can incapacitate them for a short time and allowing you to finish what you have started. Taking down a Killer grants you immeasurable Bloodlust, making your movement speed increase to 10.0 m/s and letting you see the auras of any remaining Survivors for 3 seconds.]

Not gonna lie, that both is blood-chilling and thrilling at the same time.

[However...]

Oh?

[Just as there are ways to trigger this False Killer state, there are ways to prevent and reverse you back to normal. So long as your team performs as you think they should and do not mess up often, Breaking Point will not activate. If Breaking Point is activated and only at Tier I, the effects can be undone by your team avoiding injuring for 2 minutes or repairing 1 generator. If Breaking Point is activated and at Tier II, your team will need to do better by avoiding damage for 4 minutes or repairing 2 generators. If Breaking Point is activated and at Tier III, Anomaly State will activate. If Anomaly State is active, your team can try to revert you to normal by either proving their worth in doing tasks needed to escape or cause you enough pain to regain some clarity. Proving their worth can be done by restoring generators, healing teammates, hindering the real Killer, and unlocking the gates. Clarity through pain is done by blinding with flashlights, being stunned with pallet drops, being disoriented by firecrackers, and being stabbed by carried victims. If Anomaly State is undone, there is a cooldown time of 4 minutes before Breaking Point can trigger again. Killers can also use pain to revert you to normal, with enough damage from clashing with the real Killer you will be back to being just another piece of meat waiting to be hooked.]

The square thing disappears but not the imprint of what has just been told to me. I am now a living version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. At any point in a trial, I can be driven into such rage that I will start to kill my team.

[What say you, little worm? Do you like the gifts the Entity has given you?]

Don't be a smartass. This is basically a god you're dealing with. Pissing it off will only add more salt and acid to this wound I call existence. Though it could do without the condescending tone.

"Though I'm not sure why you've done so, I am flattered you've went to such trouble. Thank you, oh mighty Entity."

Why is it now that I realize I'm talking to a voice in my head? And why does it feel normal? I am strangely okay with this and I am not okay with that.

[Good. Very good. The Entity appreciates this version of you. Perhaps you are now more willing to play by the rules and will not have to be punished for very long.]

This confuses me.

"I'm sorry?"

[Oh, you will be. There are consequences for disobedience, little worm. And the Entity does not like it when others try to deny that which is meant to be.]

The ground beneath me rumbles for a moment before I lose my balance and end up impaled through the gut by something that has my heart stop. A spidery-like claw is jutting from my insides and weirdly enough there is no blood. Yet there is pain. Lots and lots of pain! My roar is harsh and hurts my throat. But the claw is merely the beginning. The ground pushes up more and more claws protrude out, making like I'm in the palm of a massive hand.

"Holy shit..."

The claws crush around me, twisting my torso to the side and pointing me up towards what I guess is a sky.

[You will be a good little worm and embrace the power given to you.]

"Yes! I swear I'll be good!"

The claws tighten, my bones ache in pain, and the claw coming out of me twitches slowly down to etch its tip against my head.

[And you will no longer harm yourself.]

"I promise! I promise!"

[Good girl.]

The claw's tip beings to force itself into my skull.

[While you do say the needed things, the Entity believes you should still learn from your defiance. It will be some time before your body regenerates the blood you lost during the trial and allow you to fully wake up. So till then, the Entity will happily make sure you know just how things work here. Your first lesson, what happens when you bring the displeasure of refusal and failure to please the Entity.]

It inches painfully deeper into my brain. My howls are deafening yet have no echo in this place, the fog damping all sound.

[Yes. Wail all you like. Suffering adds such flavor to the soul. And the fear...Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear. Truly it is the spice of life. You worms all taste so much better when you are afraid.]

This is merely the beginning of a very long and agonizingly drawn-out torture. Since this is basically my spirit/mind in this Void, any harm done is all going to further fuck over my mental health and probably going to make it easier to break when under similar stress. All I know is I'm not coming out of this unscathed.

(UNKNOWN AMOUNT OF TIME LATER)

With a loud gasp and violent bolt upright, I finally cast my eyes on something other than the claws of the Entity exploring new ways of doing awful things to me. My body is shaking. Ears ringing. And there's a searing burn coming from my chest. My senses are so dull that once I register that there's something on my shoulder I throw myself halfway across the camp in fear that the claws have come back and I hold myself in sheer fright. Of course that's not really the case. It was just David. Yet this does little to calm my panicking heart and rapid breathing.

"Whoa now. Take it easy, Luv. It's only me."

He takes a few steps towards me before stopping at the blocking arm of Jane.

"Oi, what's your deal?"

"Look at her. She needs a moment. Just give her a bit of space before you go over there."

He grumbles to himself but listens to the woman. Allowing me to regain some semblance of normality. My brain catches up to what is really around me and very slowly settles down from the adrenaline that comes from being fucking terrorized by the Entity for who knows how long. Speaking of which...

"H-How long?"

Did...Did my voice just crack? Geez, I'm messed up if I can't even control that basic function.

"How long what?"

Laurie comes near but keeps a fair distance from me.

"How long was I gone?"

This question has them looking at me funny. I don't like how they're looking at me.

"Gone?"

"Luv, you never left camp."

Granted, they have no clue what I meant by "gone". Still, telling me anything else like "we're not sure" or a number of trials that went by while I slept would be much better. Instead, this dumb answer feels like they're talking to me like a child and it pisses me off.

"Don't talk down to me and tell me how long I've been out!"

My head throbs, both in lingering pain and frustration.

"A while..."

Adam's input is made.

"At least ten or so trials past since you blacked out."

Okay, but what does that mean? A day? Two days? A week? Why haven't these numbnuts found a way to measure time?!

"Too long...Too god damn long..."

I move to stand but find my legs a bit wobbly. Claudette brings a medkit over.

"Try not to move around too fast or so much. You don't want to hurt yourself."

I huff a slight snarl.

"Don't waste that kit. Just teach me Self-Care so I can take care of myself."

Her face, among the others, is shocked.

"How do you know about...?"

"Your Perks?"

I cut her off merely to shut her up so I can explain. Otherwise, we'll be here playing 20 Questions till trial starts.

"I know your Perks. I know ALL of your Perks. It wouldn't let me leave without knowing everything. Forcing each and every bit of information you all failed to tell me so deep into my skull that I'm sure it erased what little childhood memories I had left to do so."

I point at her.

"Your three Perks are Botany Knowledge, Empathy, and Self-Care."

"I don't understand. We never told you..."

"Are you ignoring me or just stupid? It told me EVERYTHING. The Entity told me the things none of you ever bothered to. Like seeing Auras, Scratch Marks, Add-ons, Sabotaging Hooks, Cleansing Totems, and some weird-ass shit called the Bloodweb. Which, by the way, thank you all for being so nice in telling me. It really means a lot that you are all so nice and caring. Oh, wait, no you're not. You're all a bunch of bastards!"

My head pangs harder. A foreboding sense of dread tingles my spine.

"Easy now. Please calm down."

Dwight's voice seems almost distantly muffled in my ears.

"I know you're upset. But you don't need to get worked up over it."

This almost has me seeing red.

"Worked up? You haven't seen worked up. This isn't me upset. This is me after the Entity has had it's fun! Punishing me. Doing god awful things to me...Being killed by the monsters is a dream compared to the nightmare I suffered!"

Nea scoffs.

"Geez. Overly dramatic much?"

My eye twitches and the pain in my head is getting worse. I roar out in agonizing discomfort.

"Stop it! Stop pissing me off! I can't control the beast at Tier III!"

The mentioning of something like a tier gets attention. Though my throbbing head isn't helping me in trying to concentrate. Suddenly, mostly because the pain made my eyes shut, David surprises me by grabbing hold of my face and forcing me to lock eyes with him.

"Look at me. Ignore them, Luv. I got you. Block everythin' else that ain't me. Do that for me, Luv. I know you can."

His eyes. Dark brown and intense yet soft. Why can't I look away?

"That's my girl. Focus on this mug of mine and know it's gonna be okay."

It takes a moment before I regain the memory to blink. In this state, it's easy to get lost in those eyes of his. His smirk is also strangely reassuring.

"Heh. Trippy."

"What?"

"Did you know that your eyes change color?"

"Yeah. Not sure why or when it happens."

"They were kinda red-orange before and now dullin' to light brown."

"Normally they're ether light brown, hazel, light green, or some mix of those. Any other color is rare and just tends to happen."

He smiles.

"So...Feelin' better?"

"A little bit."

"Anythin' I can do to make that little bit bigger?"

I bite my tongue.

"Come on. You can tell me."

I start to blush.

"...Hug?"

He surprised yet I'm the one more shocked that he actually does it. His embrace has me feeling so weak. I tremble, wanting to give in and break down. To cry and let this pain out. But I don't. I won't let myself be so open. Not around them. Not even him.

"'ow about now?"

I just nod against him.

"Do you...I don't know...Wanna talk about stuff?"

[You may choose to share these Perks with the other worms or keep them to yourself and hone them to make yourself better. The choice is yours and yours alone.]

The Entity's words come back to me like a whisper on the wind. Part of me really wants to make them suffer as I have. But I don't want to be like them.

"Okay...But only because there's important stuff to tell you guys."

"Do you want me to stay by your side?"

"...Maybe."

He merely chuckles and musses up my hair playfully. While it is true, what the Entity said about him is something I've thought of when it comes to David's intentions, he sadly is the only one at camp I trust. That and he's not that bad of a guy to be around even if his flirting can get a bit tiresome.

With little coaxing, the others gather around the fire as I tell them what the Entity told me. I do my best to explain my three perks. Though it's the special ability that interests them the most. And can I blame them? Now they have confirmation that a team member can become a killer and attack them if things aren't going so well. It's a downright terrifying idea. One that I'm sure the Entity loves. Still, even though I am telling them these things, I refuse to share with them just how to use my perks for themselves. My faith in these people is nearly non-existent, not including David who's the one keeping me sane after all this crap. Plus, I'd rather understand these perks better myself before passing anything along to them. Frankly, the only ones they could use would be Snowball's Chance and Skulker's Instinct. Breaking Point would be useless to them as it serves no purpose other than to trigger my killer side which is exclusively a me thing. However, my reluctance to share my perks is not taken kindly.

"What kind of crap is this? You want us to share our perks but you won't share yours?!"

Feng beats Nea to the punch on being pissed off.

"I just found out about these things. Let me understand how they work."

"What's there to understand? You throw shit and you're stealthy. There. I did it for you."

Now Nea says her bit.

"If it's so simple then why can't you do it?"

Meg sticks up for me.

"Because fuck you, that's why."

"Cunt, would you shut up. Luv's not askin' for all our perks. Just one. And it ain't even yours."

David is right. I've only asked for one perk and it's Claudette's Self-Care. It unlocks the ability to heal yourself without a Med-Kit at 50% the normal Healing speed and increases the efficiency of Med-Kit self-heal by 10%, for Claudette herself this is 20%. I asked for this skill so that damage wouldn't bother me as much and trigger my killer side. But I guess assholes can't see the big picture what with their head being so far up their butts.

"Call me a cunt again, you Limey bastard! I fucking dare you!"

"And your lot wonders why the rest of the world hates ya."

I tug on David's ear and he whines.

"'ey, what was that for?"

"You don't need to keep throwing logs on her fire. Just ignore it and eventually the heat will die down."

He looks at me funny before draping his thick arm around my shoulders.

"Ah, Luv, 'ad we ever met outside of this place I don't think we'd go very far."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because you'd be tryin' to talk me out of fightin'. And me not bein' able to fight just ain't right."

I simply smirk.

"Fair enough. But...We'd still be cool otherwise, right?"

"A rockin' bird like you? Oh yeah. I'd be a right proper git to not be interested in keepin' you around."

"Heh. You're not such a bad bloke yourself, Scrappy-Doo."

"...I was goin' to say it's sexy when you use English, but you killed it by callin' me that cartoon dog."

"Yet the resemblance is uncanny."

"Hey!"

Oh right, Nea's still here and being annoying.

"Don't act like I'm not here."

"Nea, just stop it already."

Ace speaks up.

"The kid has a right to learn her skills before giving them away."

"Up yours, old man."

"Know what..."

Bill interjects.

"I seem to recall a time when you flat out told us to 'shove it' when we asked about your perks."

"Yeah...well...*scoff* Fine! Do whatever. I don't care anyway."

She storms away to be as far from the fire and me as possible without leaving the safety zone.

"Geez, she can be such a bummer for a kid."

Kate remarks as she tunes up her nice acoustic guitar. And that gets my attention.

"Um...Where did you get that from?"

She looks at the guitar.

"Oh, this? I bought it off the Entity."

I look at her funny.

"What?"

"Seems the Entity told up about the mechanics of trials but not the rewards for doing them."

Jake states with a tone that lets me know he's still ticked at me for getting him killed.

"What do you mean 'rewards'?"

Jeff clears his throat to get my attention.

"So the Entity told you about the Bloodweb, right? How that it uses Bloodpoints to get Add-ons and that you gain Bloodpoints during the Trials by performing certain actions."

Dear lord don't tell me it's another long as fuck exposition rant.

"Yeah?"

"Well, aside from Bloodpoints, there are two other forms of currency. Iridescent Shards and Auric Cells. Iridescent Shards can be used to bribe the Entity into gifting you a copy of someone else's perk but that's super expensive. Typically like 2,000 or 2,700 shards. Depends on the Entity's mood. Auric Cells are super rare and are a pain in the ass to collect, but they're worth it. With enough Auric Cells, the Entity will make things a lot more entertaining by letting us get new clothes and items that make living here just a bit more bearable. You get both these things in varying amounts as rewards for how well you did in Trials and you might not even know you have any if no one tells you about it, but you can check how much you have when you go into the Bloodweb."

I just stare at him and soak this in.

"And the cool part is, once you get these things, you can have them permanently. No need to re-get something if you've decided to change. Just think about it and pesto. New duds and stuff."

My brain is starting to fail at taking this information.

"You alright there, Luv?"

"Just...I can't seem to understand the logic of the Entity."

"Don't bother trying..."

Dwight chirps.

"We've been here for what feels like ages and we still have no clue when it comes to that thing."

"I just think it's a little weird. The Entity wants us to die so it can feed off of our souls. It wants us to be afraid of it and die. That's how it gets the best taste out of us. Yet it gives us a place to relax? Then grants us items of comfort? Granted, this is probably to make us last long as a source of food as the useless are sent to the Void. But still...If it can already pull people from different points in time and across other timelines, then why not amass a large city's worth of humans to compensate for any that break easily and not cater to the needs of said humans?"

I like to think this is a well thought out point. I mean, I don't understand beings of alternate realities nor do I claim to. But when I'm hungry, I don't go out to a restaurant and get only some water. Sure, drink enough water and eventually, you'll get full. Yet it's nothing compared to an all you can eat buffet. So why is it content with the few random stragglers that wander in? It doesn't make sense to me.

"It doesn't waste..."

Tapp mutters before hammering his fist into his palm.

"It doesn't waste us. It may feed on us slowly over time. But it will feed until there's nothing left. Like sucking the very last drops of juice out of the box."

"So then the longer we last and keep our hope up..."

Quentin needed to interject for some reason.

"The longer it can continue to feed on a smaller number of victims without too much effort or attention. Like a small-time crook getting away with petty crimes because of a larger more noticeable syndicate has the cops focus."

Could he not refer to his law enforcement career? We get it. You were a cop. That shit doesn't matter here, Tapp!

"You know, for a group of people that don't try to understand the Entity, you understand it more than you think when someone questions things."

Again, I like to think I make good points. And their expressions only further this thought.

"We can increase insights by exposing ourselves to lots of different ideas that might help us form new connections."

All eyes look at Nea who randomly spouted that rather insightful quote.

"What? I know shit too. Douche turds think I can't be smart or something?"

I would crack some remark if I gave a shit. Frankly, I'm sick of letting that bitch piss me off so easily. I should take the advice David and even myself gave earlier, ignore her. Ignore everything that ticks me off. I can't become a killer if I don't let things get to me.

"So..."

Claudette moves over to me.

"I know you told us how your perk works. But do you know if it's only applicable in trials?"

I merely tilt my head in confusion.

"Beg your pardon?"

"She means can you go nuts in camp."

Jake spits and I just shrug.

"No clue. As chatty as the Entity was, it didn't tell me that."

"Figures as much."

"Still, you can never be too safe. Best not get on my bad side."

Probably not the best thing to remotely joke about. Though David tries to play this tension off by yanking me into a headlock and nuggying me till I'm surly growling.

"Awww...Such a big bad killer you are. So threatenin' with that cute face."

"*snarls* Will you quit fucking with my hair?!"

"Oh? And what'cha gonna do about it, Luv?"

I bite his forearm yet he merely laughs. This leads into some mildly aggressive horseplay on both our parts. Despite the oddity that this interaction is it does serve to show that while I am now a threat, that it doesn't mean I'm not human. I'm still me. A nutty weirdo goon that got stuck here just like they did. They can die and so can I. We are all prey. My power in the grand scheme of things changes nothing.

Still, something feels uneasy. While things return to normal and the occasional chat, I get this odd sense of being watched. Well, a different one from the feeling of the eyes of the other survivors. No, this one feeling is off. Predatory. A feeling I once felt long before I had my trial. There's a monster in the woods. The question remains of who it is and why is it skulking around? Is it Legion? Did he come to see me squirm? Or is this someone else? Someone I haven't met yet? I have so many questions!

[Elsewhere: Survivor Campsite Woods]

He watched from his spot as he had done so for quite some time since that fateful meeting. He wasn't going to miss any chance to prove the others wrong. To show that he was worthy. And he was going to use the new meat to do so. His patience paid off this time, as the human was once more up and about after many hunting cycles of just lying still like a corpse. Luck was even further on his side as he intently listened in on their ramblings and learned that the others weren't that far off in their theories on her strange power. This human, if provoked enough, will become a killer just like him. The thought of seeing such a sight made him excited. Such a moment needed to be preserved for posterity. With some careful hand placement, he makes a bold move and readies the shot that will mark his road to respect.

*CLICK*

The small camera's flash was obscured but there was nothing to stop the shutter sound. A few of the humans picked up on it and dismissed it for normal odd noise. Though the new meat is less swayed to ignore the sound. Her eyes search for any hint of something different lurking in the foggy shadows.

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

He could hear his heartbeat. Strange, as he didn't think he had a heart to begin with. One of the other humans pulls her attention from investigating further and a sudden thrill has him. He's never been caught before yet his stealth nearly failed him here. This was exciting. Turning the camera around, he looked at the image capture and smirked to himself. Yes...Things were going to be fun for Ghost Face.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Dangerous Liaisons (Billy Russo x Reader)

A/N: So this has been in my drafts for a few weeks. My other fics took priority and I completely forgot about it, I was also afraid it might be too serious in tone to open with. Of all my current fics, this one is definitely the most mature themed and the most sinful.

Words: 3517

Warnings: Mature Language, Unstable family dynamic, mentions of death, Eventual NSFW (not in this chapter though).

(Gif not mine)

You sat by the far end of the cocktail bar. All your father's prestigious guests drowned out by the string quartet you had personally booked for the evening.

The large chandelier gave the room a relaxed, yet slightly intimidating ambience, it hung high and glimmered brightly like some classist mantelpiece, meant to appease those of a similar standing and intimidate those of a lower class.

The entire evening had been an exhausting recital of eloquently spoken words and half-hearted compliments, drowning yourself in your third martini didn't seem to alleviate the stress.

You let out a sigh as your finger languidly played with the brim of your glass. Ever so often bringing that same finger to your mouth when it was coated in an ample amount of salt.

"Careful, if you manage to look anymore disheartened you may need someone to save you from drowning in that glass." A husky voice emanated from beside you. It had that familiar tone of confidence you'd heard from many of the men your father worked with, except where most sounded entitled, his had a hint of cockiness to it.

"And are you offering to be ever the gallant hero and save me from such a depressing fate?" You kept your eyes on your drink, grabbing an olive and popping it in your mouth.

"No. I'd probably join you. This kind of crowd can be a little--"

"Pretentious?" You interrupted him. Eyes still on your drink.

"I was going to go with, suffocating." His voice was hauntingly smooth, it reminded you of a smooth glass of bourbon. Full bodied, strong, with just a hint of honey and a hell of a smoky aftertaste. In short, it was intoxicating. Keeping your composure may be harder than you anticipated.

You looked in his direction, extended your hand and met the dark, mysterious eyes of the man you'd been waiting all night for.

His breath-taking features living up to every expectation from all the whispers that were associated with it. His lips curved in the most seductive smirk you'd ever seen.

Fuck!

Despite being obviously unarmed and dressed in a flattering tailored suit, you could tell this man was nothing short of a bad habit waiting to be picked up.

"Y/N"

He took your hand and brought it to his lips. His painfully tempting lips.

"Billy, Billy Russo. A Pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine," Your voice came off a little sultrier than you had intended. Damn, shitty alcohol tolerance.

Bait, meet hook.

***

Several Months Earlier

Coming back home had been more painful than you'd ever imagined it would be. Your father had driven you away with his demanding presence and controlling ego after he had pulled a few not-so-legal strings to get you transferred from your post in Juarez. He had never tried to hide his disdain for your job as a military prosecutor. In some ways, he saw it as a betrayal. After all, yours was a family business rooted in the military.

"Military is our family and our business is a family business," he would always say whenever pitching one of his military defence contracts to his lavish guests he'd serenade with expensive booze, Cuban cigars and the feeling of exclusivity as they earned an invitation to one of his famous parties.

It's the same line he used on you when he found out you had been building a case against one of your superior officers stationed at Fort Bliss while investigating a rumour about mishandling of drugs.

The same line he used again when you called him in a furious rage about getting your case dismissed before you even brought it forward and being handed a transfer slip to a much more docile base in the ass-end of nowhere.

In his own, fucked up way, he thought he was protecting you, but to you, all you saw was a man protecting his reputation as a veteran, family man and savvy businessman.

It drove you so mad you gave up your military career to spite him and used your expensive law degree to work in a large office of one of the Rand Enterprise overseas branches in Hong Kong.

Officially you were a dignified lawyer, unofficially you were slowly suffocating in meaningless paperwork and a job that made you feel like a glorified fight club mediator where the opponents fought with words instead of fists and K.O's were determined with legal compromises and buyouts instead of being knocked unconscious on a sparing mat. And despite how much you loathed your dead-end job and pencil skirts, you hated giving your father the satisfaction of being right about the military being your family business.

But none of that mattered when you got the news about your younger brother. You took the first flight home, and in place of your brother you were greeted by a 6-foot wooden box.

During the funeral, his commanding officer had used words like 'Honourable', 'Brave' and 'Sacrifice'. As though throwing those words at you while you stood by his grave, painfully aware of his absence, would magically make things better.

Add to that the insult of being offered a velvet box with a cheap medal in substitute for his presence made you want to scream from rage. But ever the image of composure, you bit your tongue so hard it bled to keep from telling everyone to fuck off and leave you to grieve in peace. Instead, you held your mother steady and stared daggers at the stupid velvet box she clutched so tight her knuckles turned pale and caressed her hair as her tears soaked through your long-sleeved dress.

Your father was his cold, expressionless self. A silent spectator in black, like a ghost. Afterwards, the two of you had exchanged spiteful words. Yours came out shrill and croaked, the effect of the tears you could no longer hold at bay.

Your fathers had been stoic, firm and distant.

~

"You’re the reason Henry left, it's your fault he's… d-dead."

Your words were harsh, meant to hurt, yet when you finished laying blame you realised it still felt foreign, the fact Henry was gone. He would never make another cup of weak coffee for you, and you would never be able to tease him about it. It caused a sickening feeling to burrow deep in your stomach, it felt like an invisible wound was forming. You feared it would never heal.

Your father sat in his large leather office chair, whiskey in hand, ailed with the deadest eyes you'd ever seen on a person. They were glued to the heart-wrenching family photograph on his desk. It was all fake smiles and polished appearances. It was another cheap medal, one he could place on display for prying eyes. You wanted to throw that fucking photograph into the fire, you'd throw that little velvet box too if your mother hadn't fallen asleep clutching it in a death grip against her chest.

He didn't bother to look your way, knowing he would simply fuel the fire inside you further. He simply took a swig of the brown liquid, emptying the glass of its contents.

"Your brother left because he was a patriot." Your father’s voice fell flat.

"Bullshit!" Your voice thundered at the audacity of your father using the same empty word that was uttered at your brother’s funeral, "He left because that was the only way he thought he could earn your affection."

You waited for your father to bite back, to run to his own defence. He didn't.

"You neglected him. Always pointing out your differences in disappointment, making him wish he was like you. Even when you were proud of him, you never gave him the validation he sought. He left to try and live up to your legacy. He left because he thought it would make you happy."

You had no energy left in you to shout anymore. To be honest, you could hardly recognise your own voice, it was almost as though someone else had taken over your voice and the words that travelled with it. Except the voice was still your own. It felt like someone had opened a spill-way and all the repressed emotions you had harboured over the years finally flowed free.

You sniffled, whipping away the tears that refused to stop, "I had the unfortunate side benefit of inheriting mums face, and because of that you always treated me like some innocent flower you had to protect from the world. And you got so good at it too, you didn't realise when protect had changed to control until you drove me away. And now... now, you've driven Henry away too. Only this time, the prodigal son is NEVER coming back."

With that, you turned and walked out of your father’s office, clutching your arms as though you were shielding yourself from the cold. You heard the sound of glass shattering as you ascended the stairs of the mansion you never once considered home.

~

The memory has etched itself into your brain.

On good days you thought you had told him what he needed to hear. What you needed to get off your chest. On bad days you reprimanded yourself for being so harsh.

The next day you had every intention of getting back on a plane and returning to the life you forged out of spite, however, your mother had convinced you to stay. She had seemed so weak and fragile, like a cracked vase that could be demolished by a single gust of wind.

You knew your leaving was that gust of wind and your staying was the glue she needed to keep intact, so you stayed. And when weeks turned to months you decided to pull a few expensive favours to trade in your old position at Rand Enterprises in China for Rand Enterprises in New York.

Working for the Meachum's was like trying to navigate a minefield while blindfolded, although you were almost certain your chances of surviving that particular impossible task would be far easier than having to deal with Ward Meachum's sleazy attempts at flirting. The guy was about as smooth as tar -which was to say, not smooth at all.

Things seemed to get easier as you slowly built a routine and constantly avoided having to deal with the problems that awaited you at home. One day you had decided to avoid going home altogether by renting an apartment in the city. Close enough to your mother to keep her from constantly worrying and far enough from your father to keep you from his sphere of influence. Fate, on the other hand, had something different planned for you.

Like all the New Yorkers at the time, you had found yourself drawn to events surrounding the sudden emergence of Hells Kitchen's newest menace: The Punisher. The civilian in you saw what the media wanted you to see: the violence, the ruthless justice being served, the mayhem.

The former military prosecutor in you began to see a pattern forming in The Punisher's seemingly unconnected works. The gangs he targeted were specific, known for dealing in drugs and weaponry. They were rivals too, so on the outside, the Punisher's unfortunate origins had seemed just that: unfortunate. But one piece of information caught your interest. The fact a notorious drug dealer known as Blacksmith was involved.

Before your father had pulled what was to be your most ambitious case in your short-lived military prosecutor career, you had been investigating rumours of a new player emerging in the drug circuit in Juarez. His name was none other than Blacksmith.

Using your smarts and connections, you managed to discretely trace a pattern of drug shipments that coincided with army shipments to bases where heroin had surfaced in bulk in surrounding areas. When you had discovered that those military shipments were actually KIA's being returned home you were horrified. Worse yet, you discovered Henry's name was on one of the manifests of a cargo plane you previously suspected of being used in this smuggling scheme.

Telling no one out of distrust, you secretly ordered Henry's grave dug up and his body tested for any narcotic substances. The results came back positive and you were beyond infuriated. Not only had your brother’s life been cut short because of your father's inability to portray emotion, now his memory and the memory of others had been sullied by someone they risked their lives to protect. That was the moment your mission began.

Everything relied on you getting the chance to talk to someone implicated in the Blacksmith's scheme. You couldn't risk going to any government agencies because there was no way something this well organised didn't have someone in a high position of power overseeing it.

Frank Castle was your best lead since he was the only member of a covert unit that was at the brunt of everything -something you had uncovered by watching his trial on the news after Colonel Schoonover recounted the events leading to his loss of limb and Frank's heroics.

When Castle had been arrested, you had hoped you would get the chance to speak to him in jail, perhaps appeal to his moral compass to help you root out others involved, but you never got to him in time. Too much red tape and not enough powerplays left in your arsenal delayed you too much. The next thing you knew Frank Castle was dead and so was his superior officer, Ray Schoonover. Yet, this provided you with another lead. If Frank went after Ray, that meant he was somehow connected to the Castle family's massacre which was also tied to Blacksmith.

After months of pulling redacted files and dealing with a former hacktivist white-hat hacker you had blackmailed who worked in the IT department of Rand Enterprises, you managed to track down the names of one some soldiers that were under Schoonover's command and had served around the same time as Frank Castle's last tour. They're names were Gunner Henderson (who had gone off the grid), Morty Bennett (who was a high ranking military official you couldn't risk confronting) and lastly, Billy Russo, CEO of Anvil Security and the perfect candidate.

You needed to find out what he knew. So you orchestrated an event for your father's company and added him to the guest list under the guise of being scouted as a possible business partner, all while maintaining your job at Rand Enterprises to keep you from suspicion.

***

"So, Mr Russo." You drew out saying his name, "What brings you to this party?"

"Billy, please, Mr Russo sounds too formal," He waved down the bartender and ordered a glass of whiskey neat for himself and another drink for you. "I'm here on business."

"Oh?" You pretended to be surprised. "And what kind of business does a man dressed like you-" you pointed at his sharply tailored suit, "-deal in?" You took a sip of your martini.

"Private contracts mostly." He looked at you through hooded eyes as he took a sip of his own drink.

You had seen photos of him before tonight, he was handsome no doubt about it, even a blind person could tell, but his eyes were much more captivating up-close. They made your skin feel like it was on fire, there was a darkness to them that went deeper than colour, and it was almost frightening yet thrilling all at once.

"So, mercenaries?"

"I prefer the term 'Private Security', sounds less self-serving," he gave you a deep chuckle, "But I don't want to talk about myself. Why is someone as breath-taking as you sitting at a bar all alone?"

He was good, but you had prepared yourself for this possibility, with a face like that you'd be a fool to expect him to be harmless or without charm. And yet, you couldn't keep your cheeks from looking flushed or your mind from constructing inappropriate thoughts.

You raked your eyes over what you assumed was a muscular figure hidden beneath his impeccably tailored dark suit. He noticed your action and subtly licked his lips, as though he were a predator preparing to devour his prey. You were considering letting him.

"Perhaps, I was simply waiting for the right man to come to my rescue, Mr Russo." You refused to call him by his first name, an act of rebellion. An act he saw as an opening.

He leaned in close enough that you could smell the scent of whiskey on his breath, further fuelling the desire building inside you.

"Am I that man, Y/N?" His breath was warm against your cheek, making you forget for the briefest moment why you had brought him here.

You knew Billy was the kind of man who enjoyed the chase. He liked a woman who guaranteed a challenge. You decided to use that to your advantage.

"The night is young," You replied cheekily. His gaze wavered and for a moment you saw his confidence wane in the slightest.

"But... there is promise." You added to give him hope and keep him hooked.

***

You and Billy talked for hours. You were under no impressions that Billy hadn't chosen to talk to you, out of a sea of gorgeous women, because you caught his eye. You knew he had profiled you, he was probably using you to get to your father. Even though that revelation dampened your spirits a little, you reassured yourself that you too were using him. He just didn't know it yet.

The two of you drew a few heads in your direction. You chalked it up to Billy's eye-catching beauty. There were moments when you caught yourself wondering if he was real. The two of you together made quite the picture. You in your royal blue dress that hugged all your curves yet was modest enough to leave much to the imagination and Billy who looked sharp enough to cut through bone in his three-piece suit.

Your father took notice of his interest in you, and yours in him, but was too preoccupied with more important business partners. You silently praised whatever gods had favoured you tonight, you knew your father would question Billy, taking his concentration off you. More importantly, you couldn't risk Billy finding out you had added his name to the guest list and not your father.

Billy was also exceptionally good at revealing next to nothing about himself, it was like trying to draw blood from stone. It frustrated you, and not just mentally. Before you knew it, you were already at the bottom of your fifth martini. The buzz from the alcohol turned your body feverish with heat, but it also gave you liquid courage.

"Do you know what I don't understand, Mr Russo?" You trailed your tongue over your lips as his eyes bore holes into you.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?"

"Until I stop," you batted your eyelashes at him, defying him yet again, he seemed to enjoy it. "Why is it that out of everyone in this room -a room filled with some rather important people I might add- are you spending your time talking to me?" You cocked your head to the side causing a loose curl to fall out of place.

Billy inched closer to you and caressed your jaw as he tucked the stray curl behind your eye. It was a gentle touch, one you found yourself struggling not to lean into. You tried your best to keep composed and unaffected by his touch.

"Maybe I was the one in need of saving. Lord knows I can't stand these things-" He made a circling motion with his index finger as he looked up at the chandelier hovering above, "Maybe when I saw you sitting at the bar instead of chatting up some suit, I saw someone above all this bullshit power play stuff, I saw someone who was worth talking to."

Your eyes went wide. His words had sounded so earnest you actually wanted to believe them. In what came as a surprise to you, your lips had crashed violently into his own. He jerked back slightly in surprise, but soon he was kissing you back with such hunger, such fervour, you almost moaned into his touch. His lips were soft against yours, his mouth tasting of whiskey.

When he broke the kiss, you had to place a hand on your chest and concentrate to keep your breath steady and stop the world from spinning.

"I guess you are the man I've been waiting for after all."

His lips curled into a devilish smile, his pupils dilated, "Then let me rescue you away from this place." He stood up, buttoned his suit jacket and held out his hand for you.

You knew what would happen as soon as you took his hand. At that moment, you didn't care. You clasped his hand firmly as he led you out of the room towards the two large doors that lead outside.

End of Part One

Part Two is HERE!

As always: Feedback is appreciated and welcomed. If you want to be added (or removed) from the tag list just ask!

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Permanent Tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

[notstars-doors]

Free Fallin’

Wally can be a real idiot sometimes, and he needs a sharp-shooter to set him straight. 

~~~~

Artemis gives Wally a call after finding out that he and Dick have started dating. She's got some WORDS for this boy.

read it (and also the little blurb I wrote about the future of this series) on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15057065

~~~~

There’s a sound catching at the edge of Wally’s attention. It’s a weird buzzing and jingling, subtle enough to be irritating but definitely not enough to wake him up. Nope, not happening. He is not getting out of this bed.

“Walls… it’s yours…”

Shit.

Wally groans, rolling over under the comforter to drape an arm over Dick’s chest and burying his face against the edge of his pillow.

“No…”

“Wally…”

“Tired…”

“It’s been ringing for ten minutes, get it or I’m gonna throw it.”

“Baaaaabe…”

Suddenly the pillow is yanked out from under him, only to be whacked over the side of his face as Dick slams it on top of his own head, trying to drown out the sound.

“Get your fucking phone or we’re breaking up.”

Wally can barely make out the muffled words from under the pillow, but he gets the gist of it. He rolls onto his back with a sigh, rubbing at tired eyes before throwing off the comforter and swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. He frowns at the floor, trying to clear his sleepy mind enough to locate where the sound is coming from. The phone’s not on his bedside table, where it usually is, so this is going to be more work than he was anticipating.

His eyes graze over the room, searching the clothes strewn across his floor until he sees his jeans from the night before about three feet from the bed. Wally gets to his feet with a loud groan, his arms stretching over his head, before snatching the pants off the floor and rummaging around the pockets until finally pulling out the offending object.

He doesn’t bother checking the name on the screen before swiping his finger across it to answer the call.

“Wallace. Rudolph. WEST.”

“Hey Arty.”

“What. The fuck?”

“Y’know there’s a time difference between here and Gotham, right? It’s about 7:00 in the morning here, did you know that?”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“That there’s a time difference?”

“That you’re dating Dick?!”

Like he can hear his own name being spoken on the other side of the call, Dick groans from under the pillow and gestures vaguely, yet aggressively, towards the door. Wally takes that as a cue to take the call outside and grabs a t-shirt off the floor, dropping the phone on his bed as he pulls it over his head. He can hear Artemis ranting through the speaker and figures she’s got at thirty seconds of steam left before she’s expecting a response. He slips on the jeans he’s still holding and a pair of old converse before picking up the phone again and exiting his room.

“-and we had a deal, West. I told you when I started dating Zatanna, and you never fucking let me live it down that you were right. And now you pull this? I’ve got an arrow with your fuckin’ name on it if you don’t start talking.”m

Wally slips out the front door of his apartment building, shivering in the dewy morning air and crossing his arms over chest as best he can with a phone still pressed to his ear.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Start talking?”

He can almost hear the eye roll Artemis is most certainly giving him. The thought makes him smile.

“If you don’t, I’m gonna hurt you.”

Wally chuckles, leaning against the brick wall behind him. “Okay, first of all: it’s been a week. Let me get fuckin’ acclimatized to this whole thing before having to declare it to the world.”

“Alright but-”

“Second,” He ploughs on, cutting her off before she can start again. “It’s not solely my decision to tell people, Dick has a say in this too. And third… I’m sorry.”

The line is quiet for a moment, and he feels genuine remorse for not telling Artemis sooner.

“I’m sorry you had to find out through M’gann. It’s not how I wanted you to know. We didn’t really think about what meeting at the Cave would mean, it all came out by accident.”

“Why did you tell them though?”

“We didn’t at first, but M’gann sensed our ‘heightened emotions’ and figured it out.” Wally cracks a grin. “I swear, she’s like a mind-reader or something.”

“Fuck off.”

“You woke me up at 7:00 after a very late night, you can deal with my jokes.”

“Loser…”

They both go quiet again. Wally sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I am sorry, you know that, right?”

“Yeah…”

“I wanted to tell you first. I did. I just… wanted to keep it to myself for a little while and enjoy it, before everyone got involved.”

“I get it.”

He closes his eyes in anticipation, knowing he’s going to regret this. “But you were right…”

“I was right, I fucking told you!”

“We were both right.”

“Yeah but at least I gave it a shot with Zatanna. You- youuuu never even entertained the thought that Dick might like you, Mister ‘I’m-Not-His-Type’. You’re the embodiment of his type, you oblivious fuck.”

Wally snorts and shakes his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, you were more right than either of us thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently he’s been in love with me for three years.”

Wally wonders if he’s going to regret saying that, too.

The line goes quiet again, and then Wally has to pull the phone away from his ear to avoid permanent damage

“I knew it!”

“Artemis.”

“I fucking knew it!”

“Arty.”

“What?”

“You can’t tell him I told you that.”

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“I’m serious, no wise cracks, no slips of the tongue. Nothing.”

“Ye of little faith.”

“I know you, Artemis, we dated for two years.”

“Yeah, and you’ve known me for three more years after that. I can keep a secret, Baywatch.”

Wally sighs, not knowing how to say what he feels he should say – should probably talk about. Artemis is one of the only people he probably could talk to about this. Other than Dick.

But that’s the problem.

“Artemis…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m about to say something that might sound kinda dumb.”

“Business as usual, then.”

“Fuck off.”

“What’s up?”

Wally bites his lip, pausing for a moment to prepare to say it out loud. “I think… I think I might be falling in love with him too…”

Silence. And then:

“Dude, it’s been a week.”

“I know!” Wally groans, pushing off the wall to start pacing along the sidewalk, his restless legs taking his tired body along for the ride. “I know that, and I know it sounds-”

“Like you’re trying to catch up to Dick because you feel bad that you’ve been a clueless shithead?”

“That’s not-”

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“I know.” He huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But… I just… that’s how it feels? I think?”

“You think?”

“Yeah… But like, I love him. I’ve loved him for years, he’s my best friend.”

“Of course.”

“I just don’t know how to tell when I fall in love with him, y’know?”

“Wally.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll know.”

Wally stops pacing, staring down at the ground in thought. He wonders if that’s true. “But what if I think I do, but I don’t, but I tell him I do. Then I’m lying to him. What if it never happens? What if this fizzles out? WhatifI’mjustridingofftheshockofthefirstkiss? Whatifwerushedintothisandit’satotalmistakeandIlosemybestfriendwhatif-”

“Wally.”

“….yeah?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He frowns. “Not helping.”

“I mean, you’re an idiot if you think that you could fuck this up.” Artemis sighs, and Wally can picture her shaking her head at him. “If Dick has been in love with you for this long and hasn’t kicked you to the curb for all of your weird bullshit, there’s no possible way you could fuck this up without being a monumental jackass.”

“But what if-”

“No, shut up.” She’s exasperated now, so Wally shuts up. He knows better than to antagonize her when Artemis is this irritated with him. “As oblivious and brash as you are, you’re a good guy. I dated you, for Christ’s sake, that stands for something. You’re not going to hurt Dick. You’re not gonna lose him. You guys are made for each other, it’s a wonder this didn’t happen sooner.”

Wally smiles sheepishly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing…”

“See?” Artemis lets out a quiet chuckle. “God, you really are an idiot. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

“Sorry blondie, I’m taken.”

“Please. Been there, done that.”

They’re laughing now, and it’s nice. Wally’s glad that Artemis isn’t mad at him anymore. He doesn’t think he could take that, especially with how much he needs her support in this.

“Hey Artemis?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, Kid.” He can almost hear her smile. “What are ex-girlfriend-turned-best-friends for?”

“I mean, we did have some pretty great break-up sex.”

There’s silence again, and then Wally’s heart is thundering in his chest because he knows exactly what’s coming.

“Wait – oh my god, have you guys-?”

“GottagotalktoyoulaterBYEARTY!”

“WALLY-!”

Wally ends the call on that note, and then switches off his phone for good measure. He knows he’s going to have some strongly worded messages left on his voicemail when he turns it back on, but the brief reprieve would be worth it. He really doesn’t want to talk through that particular subject with her yet. Especially since he and Dick haven’t even had that talk yet.

Holy shit. They haven’t talked about that yet.

Wally tilts his head up to stare at the sky, taking a deep breath of fresh air before exhaling it all in one big rush. The hand that isn’t still holding his phone reaches up to rub over his face, a quiet groan slipping past his lips. God, how the hell had things gotten so turned around so quickly?

Not that he’s complaining. No, god no. He’s happy, properly happy, for the first time in a while.

Dick makes him happy.

The thought of his boyfriend, the man currently sleeping in his bed upstairs, has him smiling like an idiot again. All he wants to do is run back up there and bundle up next to him for the foreseeable future. All thought of ‘what ifs’ or mistakes or holy jesus Dick skipped patrol last night leave his mind, and he finds himself taking the stairs two at a time back to his room.

He’s skidding down the hall, opening his bedroom door, and then there’s Dick, in exactly the same place he’d been when Wally had left: sprawled out in the middle of Wally’s bed, flat on his stomach with a pillow resting over his head. The blanket is riding low on his hips, revealing the map of scars on Dick’s back, and his arms tucked lazily under both pillows at the top of the mattress.

Wally’s starry-eyed and love drunk just looking at him. Part of him just wants to stand there and appreciate the view forever. Another part of him wants to cannon ball onto the bed and scare the shit out of his best friend.

He decides on combining the two desires, and takes a flying leap onto the bed, landing spread eagle across the width of the mattress, and consequently, across Dick’s sleeping body. His boyfriend lets out an irritated groan at the sudden weight thrown on top of him, writhing underneath Wally and trying to throw him off, but his tired limbs won’t seem to let him.

Dick attempts to roll over from underneath him. “Get off me, you jackass…”

Wally grins at the muffled voice from below the pillow. “But you’re so comfy.”

“Wally.”

“Yes?”

“If you don’t get off me in three seconds I will kill you.”

“Thought the Bat’s didn’t kill?”

“I’ll make an exception.”

“Oooh scary- ah- ow! Ow! Okay! Jeez!”

After receiving a hard pinch to the bicep and a particularly aggressive head-shove, Wally rolls off Dick’s tired form and shimmies up to lay next to him. He rubs at his smarting muscle, pouting a little as Dick rolls over to send him a glare that’s far too sleepy to scare. It’s too cute for words, but Wally doesn’t say so out loud. He figures he’d be a dead man walking if he tried it.

Still, with Dick’s soft frown and owlish blinking, Wally’s heart melts.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“What time is it?”

“About 7:15.”

Dick groans, rolling over to bury his face in Wally’s pillow again. “Fuck, me…”

Wally’s heart leaps into his throat, but he doesn’t address that particularly relevant phrase. “Too early for you, babe?”

“You know it is…”

“Want a few more hours?”

“Mhm…”

Dick already seems to be falling asleep again, his breath going shallow as his voice peters off into a quiet murmur. Wally smiles, watching as Dick’s face relaxes in slumber once again, and decides he deserves a couple more hours of sleep himself. Turning over onto his back, he yanks his t-shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor, jeans and sneakers quickly following suit before he drags the comforter up over his body. He wriggles in closer to Dick, resting his head on the edge of the pillow so his nose brushes up against his boyfriend’s.

Dick’s lips turn up in a tired smile, and he’s throwing a lazy arm around Wally’s waist. The speedster doesn’t expect much else from his nocturnal boyfriend at this point in the day, so he’s surprised when Dick speaks again.

“What did Artemis want?”

Wally lets out a soft chuckle. “To chew me out.”

“Nothin’ new then…”

“Nope.”

“Was she mad?”

“Yeah.”

“You guys okay?”

“Yeah.”

“’kay good.”

“Go to sleep, Dick…”

“’kay… Walls...?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you…”

Wally blinks open his tired eyes, letting them focus on his boyfriend, who seems to have dropped right off into sleep. He wonders if Dick is even aware of taking to him right now.

He smiles, watching as a strand of stark black hair falls across Dick’s closed eyes, his slow breath and smooth expression making his friend look so much younger. So much more like the boy he’d thrown himself into friendship with all those years ago.

Maybe he should take some advice from his younger self and throw himself into something new all over again. Because this is Dick Grayson. The man who always comes to his rescue. Who always has a plan. Who always has a hand outstretched, ready to pick him back up when he falls.

Like he’s falling right now.

It’s in a sleepy haze that Wally realizes he doesn’t care about fucking up anymore. Because he’s half-asleep in his bed with his best friend in the world, and he’s okay with the fact that he’s suddenly in a free-fall.

He doesn’t care about contingency plans or ‘what if’s’ or a promise of forever friendship.

Wally knows it’s gonna be okay.

“I love you too...”

Because when has Wally West needed any kind of safety net when he knows that Dick Grayson will always catch him when he falls?

[cognito-ergo-creo]

Rained In

[[In which these two dumbasses say so many words to each other.]]

“Damn,” Ashei sighed on the second day. He leaned against one wall of the cave, watching the rain. “Would you call this is a typhoon or a monsoon?”  

The storm had not caught them off guard. In fact, it had rolled in slowly, darkening the sky for several days in warning. It had given them enough time to find somewhere to take shelter that was big enough for the two of them, the cart, his horse, her boar, with room to spare. To be on the safe side, they had ventured deep into the cave until they were satisfied that there was nothing else already in residence that would take offense to them being there. Still, the two of them performed their own protective rites to keep their little campsite safe.  

And then the rain came like it had been waiting for them to get settled.

And it came like it hadn’t rained in years.

And it came some more.

For the first day and a half, they had managed to entertain themselves by taking the time to finally sort through their gear and other general cart-keeping. They mended what needed to be mended, sharpened what needed to be sharpened, and made a firm and final pile of what they no longer needed to hold on to. The animals got groomed. The people got groomed. They cleaned the cave. Their bedroll moved around the camp no less than seven times, and got more stuffing added (and removed) twice.  

By the second day, Ashei was, to put it simply, bored out of his mind.

Maj leaned against him, having set her book down by the campfire some time ago. “Don’t think we’re near enough to the coast for it to be a typhoon, and monsoons are more wind than this. So, neither. It’s just a big ol’ storm.”

“Huh.” Thunder rolled in the distance. “You piss off any storm elementals then?” He nudged her playfully. She snorted and nudged him back.

“Not recently, no. C’mon, you’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes. If you haven’t willed the rain away by now, I’m sorry to tell you but you’re not a storm mage.”

“That’s heartbreaking. I’m heartbroken.”

“I know you are, honey. But you had to find out one day, and you’re starting to drive me crazy. Let’s play cards or something.” Maj took hold of the arm that had wrapped itself around her shoulders and pulled on Ashei as she spoke. He resisted by pulling her back to his side.

“I don’t wanna play cards with you! You cheat!”

“So do you!”

They played cards. Despite his better judgement, they played with her deck. They counted wins by trading pebbles and other debris back and forth, and he was winning. Based on the size of her smirk after another loss, she was letting him win to prove a point.  

“You’re cheating! You’re cheating right now! I know you are. Who uses magic to lose?” He threw his cards down, disrupting their carefully stacked piles of winnings.

Maj laughed and rescued her cards from the ground. “Well, it’s not magic, I’ll tell you that much. You know I can’t do magic on my own, and Vee wouldn’t waste his time with card tricks.” Ashei hated it when she talked about her book like a person. She shuffled the deck as she continued. “There’s a little bit of counting involved, but mainly I know what cards are in play by the backs. Each one is slightly different, so I memorized them.”

“That doesn’t explain how you change your whole hand. I’ve seen you do that.”

“I have my ways.” She did a trick with the cards.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what they are?” Ashei asked after several long seconds passed in silence.

“Why? A lady’s gotta have some secrets.”

“’Cause I know you wanna tell me about it.”

Maj stuck her tongue out at Ashei. He chuckled and returned the gesture.  

“You’re right, it’s pretty clever and I’m proud of myself for coming up with it. The fronts of my cards are decorated with little transmutation circles. If I rub a certain component on my fingers before I play, I can touch one of those places and change its appearance. It’s pretty straight forward.”

“I don’t know, stuffing your sleeves with cards sounds like a more straight forward way to cheat.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Absolutely not.” He made a show of shaking out his sleeves. A card fell out. It wasn’t one of hers. “I have no idea how that got there.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing against the walls of the cave and rivaling the sounds of the storm for a few moments. Once they calmed down, they were left with the problem of finding something else to do. With eyebrows wiggling like they had a life of their own, Ashei proposed a more... physical way to pass the time. Maj declined his offer; she didn’t want the animals watching, and it would ruin the mood to know they were out in the rain. Neri and Pappy seemed to sigh in relief. Ultimately, they decided on playing more cards, but with Ashei’s untampered with deck.

“Let’s play a new game. I’m thinking Truth or Lies, but with cards. Loser of each hand has to tell the winner about a story and the winner has to guess if it’s true or not. It can’t be a story you’ve told me before.”

“Isn’t that a drinking game?”

“Well, now it’s a card game.”

“A story I haven’t told you before, huh?” Ashei nodded as Maj got into her most comfortable slouch. “I feel like you’re making these rules up to bully me. What do I get if I guess right?”

“A kiss!” He wiggled his eyebrows again. “No, I don’t know. The thrill of being right? The rest of the story?”

“Let’s go with the rest of the story. Now deal the cards, Ponytail.”

After discussing what game use as the skeleton of their new game, they played. Ashei lost the first round after an embarrassingly short amount of time.  

“Ouch, that hurt. Okay. First story.” He scratched at the stubble that was already trying to take control over his face as he thought. “I’ve got it! Once, in a storm much like this one, I had to leap across a river while carrying—”

“—I’ve met Teo.” Maj cut him off. “Getting caught cheating this early isn’t a good sign for you.”

Ashei grinned, putting his hands up in defeat. He dealt the cards again, maybe bending luck a little more to his side as he did so. Maj lost the next two hands in a row. She sighed and leveled a look that could wilt vegetation at Ashei. Ashei grinned wider in response and waited.

“Alright, here’s a school story: I had my own room, but I slept in the library most of the time.”  

A simple statement, with none of her typical vigor or gestures. “I think that’s a lie,” said Ashei after a brief deliberation.

Maj’s face split into a smug smirk. “Nope, it’s true. I was so young they didn’t want to stick me in the regular dorms, and having me room with a professor was—no. Out of the question. So. I got my own little room. Jasper still thinks it used to be a broom closet, but it was fine for me. ‘Cept I wasn’t used to sleeping on my own. It was too quiet, so the library it was. It was busier and cleaner than the dining room; folks in there all hours of the day. Just knowing there were other people around was enough for me to relax enough to sleep.”

She lost her second hand.

“Fucker.” She sighed. “How about another Baby Maji story? I scared Ruben so bad that he went off and became a member of the clergy.”

Ashei snorted his drink. “W—which one is Ruben?”

“One up from me.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that that happened.” He shifted to get more comfortable, foot brushing against her leg. “What happened?”

“Ruben told Mica and Mica told me, so it’s a third-hand story, but I guess it’s true. Neither of them are much for embellishing tales. The two of us—Ruben and me—used to share a room before I left, and since no one ever took the second bed out of his room, it’s where I stayed when I came back for term breaks and holidays. This happened when I was like, eight, maybe? Which would have made him,” she paused, trying to place her brothers’ ages in relation to hers, “fourteen or fifteen.  

“Apparently what happened was he woke up in the middle of the night one night ‘cause he heard something like whispering, or rustling, or something dragging. It was a noise that had no business being in our bedroom, whatever it was. So he rolled over and opened his eyes, and saw me, talking in a language he couldn’t understand to something he couldn’t see... except for the huge black shadow that was on the wall behind me, even though there wasn’t enough light for there to have been a shadow. And then I looked over at him, and my eyes were glowing. He was so scared he couldn’t even scream.  

“He packed his bags at the very ass crack of dawn the next day. He didn’t leave for a few weeks, but he wouldn’t even pass through the same room as me.” Maj scratched the back of her neck and shrugged, signifying the end of the story.  

Ashei tapped his foot against her leg again, this time on purpose. “Your eyes do kinda glow in the dark, you know.”  

On second thought, glowing implied that they produced light. Her eyes just reflected light at the right angles, like a raccoon’s. Or an opossum. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering at the comparison. But oh, how comforting he had started to find it when he woke up in the middle of the night and found eyes shining in the dark.

Maj’s shrug and demand to take over as dealer shook Ashei out of his tangent. He passed the deck over with little ceremony. He had been cheating, after all, but so did she. It was with very little surprise that he lost the round that Maj dealt him in retaliation.

“Fair enough. When I was still in the monastary, one of the boys I shared a room with and I decided to put glue into one of the ink bottles of our least favorite Brother.”

“Did you get caught?”

“I didn’t.”

“Bullshit, you didn’t get caught!”

“Well,” he dragged the word out, “I, me, did not get associated with the crime. The other boy did eventually get found out.”

“Oh, I see—”

“—Which is also when I found out I could take hits for other people without physically putting myself in front of them.” He cracked his knuckles to have something to do with his hands. “They weren’t exactly gentle with us there. But I guess when you’re trying to train up holy warriors, why would you be gentle with them?”

“Ashei, what the fuck?”

“It’s a useful feat to have though, taking damage for other people. I’m glad to have it! Really.”

“I ain’t glad you have it. That’s fucked up.”

“What do you mean it’s fucked up?”

“I mean, I wish you’d quit doing it to me. I don’t feel pain anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“Maj—not feeling pain isn’t the same as not being injured—”  

“—I’ll still be fine, it’s—”

“It isn’t “fine” for you, I’m—Maisie—D—did you miss the part where I’m literally a holy warrior?”

“No, I got that, Sir Paladin, what I’m sayin’ is,” she slapped her chest for emphasis, “I’m pretty fucking resilient, so we’ll both be fine if you never pull that shit like with the axe again.”

“You’re talking about that damn ballista again, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!”

“Okay, well, listen, okay. Normal people aren’t usually fine after taking an entire fucking ballista bolt through the chest—”

“That’s my whole point! I was fine! I ain’t nor—”

“—And I’m still going to do my best to protec—”

“--How do you know I’m not some kinda holy warrior too, huh? I—”

A clap of thunder like a mountain being dropped on top of their cave accompanied a flash of lighting so close it bathed the inside of their shelter in bright white light. All of the hair on their arms and legs and everywhere else stood on end from the sheer power of the storm. The animals screamed.  

Silence sat in the cave like another camper until the last echoes of thunder grumbled into the distance.

“I…. I guess that’s how you know I’m not a holy warrior.” Maj said once she found her voice.  

Ashei took a moment longer to catch his breath before laughing. Maj joined in not long after. They laughed until they cried, clutching their stomachs and gasping for breath. They each tried to speak several times before dissolving back into uncontrollable laughter at the face of the other. Once again, Maj was the first to be able to form coherent words.

“My point,” she said through chattering teeth, “I had a point.”

“Okay,” Ashei supplied helpfully from where he was laid out on the floor.

“I was trying to say that I’m not asking you to not have my back. I want you to have my back, and I want to have yours. But I also want you to keep yourself in mind too. Does that even make sense? I just can’t stand seeing someone I love all beat to hell like that and know it’s—”  

“Wait—”

“—all—”

oh no

“—did you just—”

“—my—”  

Her blood simultaneously began to boil and turn to ice as her brain started to catch up with her mouth. Ashei sat up fast enough to give himself a head rush.

“...fault.” She ended weakly.  

Ashei had scooted closer to her, close enough to reach out and touch her, but he kept his hands to himself.

“Did you just say you love me?” He sounded breathless, and not just from laughing.  

Maj couldn’t look at him. She was still staring wide-eyed into the middle distance as she reeled with the realization of what she had said.

“Like, love-love?” He pressed gently. Ashei held his breath until Maj nodded, face firmly hidden in her hands. “Since when?”

Maj groaned and gave an answer to her hands. Ashei waited with patience he didn’t know he had until she scrubbed at her face that was so red it looked painful, blush running from her face, to her ears, and down her chest. Ashei opened his arms to her for a hug. She slunk over to hide her face in his chest, despite the fact that he was the entire reason for her embarrassment.  

“Since that boat ride we took last year.” She sighed like a creature with lungs twice her size. “You were terrified of being out at sea, but you didn’t let it get in your way. You still acted up and played with the crew to make sure they liked us the whole time. The easiest way to keep up safe was staying on their good side. No one noticed how much your hands shook when you weren’t holding something, or how much teeth your smile showed.

“And then, gods, we had to sleep sitting up the whole time because—”

“—because the bunks were too tiny for us to lay together, but we couldn’t just sleep separately,” Ashei remembered that trip vividly.  

“Yeah,” Maj laughed into his shirt, still refusing to meet his eyes. “That’s when we learned how needy we both are. But we survived the boat somehow, and we made it to land, and you held it together long enough to get away from the dock district entirely before you started dry heaving for like twenty whole minutes.

“But somewhere in the middle of your heaving, you looked up at me and smiled. You looked like you wanted to die, and your hair was all sweaty-plastered to your face, and you smiled. At me. Like you were as glad to have me around as you were to be back on dry land. I thought my heart was gonna beat right out of my fool chest through one of the holes I’d made.

“You took it one step further, because that’s what you do. Once you were done being sick, you reached into your bag and gave me the captain’s star charts to feed to Vee. And that’s…. when I knew I had fallen… in love. With you.”

She pressed her face back into his chest after repeating her admission. Maj wasn’t great with feelings. He could feel the warmth radiating off of her through the fabric. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and thrilled at the feeling of her arms sliding around him. She could hear his heart pounding from where she had her head.

“You know I only stole from them because I thought they were pirates,” He said while he committed the moment to memory.

“Of course they were pirates, Ash. They were the only crew not looking for travel papers. Which we didn’t have. Still don’t have.”

“I can match your story,” he said, his voice full of warmth as he rested his chin on her head. “I realized I had fallen in love with you when we were still looking for information for that ship. We had tracked down a lead to some tavern, what was its name? The Exhausted Explorer? The Busty Mermaid? The Hung Man?”

They laughed and Maj pushed herself away from him enough to look at his face. She was still pink all over and was searching his face for any tells that he was just messing with her. She couldn’t find any. She didn’t look away from him this time.

“Whatever the name was, we found our guy and bought him dinner, and drink, and we’ve been talking to him real nice the whole time trying to butter him up. I’m not sure it’s working. In fact, I was pretty sure he was going to try to run off. And then you reach out and start playing with his hand, and I think, ‘oh shit, I can’t let her try to seduce this creep. That’s my job!’  

“But you’re the one holding his hand, and he and I are both so focused on that that neither one of us notices you pull his knife over to you. You lean forward like you’re about to kiss him and for a second, I think I’m gonna kill the guy if his mouth touches yours. Don’t get me wrong, I have never minded you kissing other people before or since then, but in that moment, he had to die.  

“At the last second, you said something badass like, ‘if we’re friends now, friends talk to each other. Now talk.’ And then you stab the knife though both of your hands! You don’t even flinch. Then you look over your shoulder at me and grin that mean, crooked grin of yours. And wink at me as the guy starts talking.”

“I still have that scar.” She moved her hand forward to look at it. He took her hand and kissed the scar.

“I know. I was too busy standing there with my mouth hanging open thinking about how hard I had fallen for you to even think about healing you.”

“Gods above and below,” Maj swore, mirth and exasperation in her voice, “We’ve been in love with each other this whole time? And didn’t say anything? How did we survive to adulthood?”

“Well, I guess it’s like you always say. I’m a lucky bastard and you’re a stubborn bitch. We’ll make it work together.”

[scaryscarecrows]

Everybody Wants to Rule the World

AN: Dove Marquis is mine-she's essentially Penguin's PA (keeps track of his passwords, lawyers' numbers, alibis...). If there's a genuinely nice person in Gotham, it's her. This all takes place six, seven months before the legendary Tire Jacking incident. Title from the Lorde cover of the Tears for Fears song.

TW: vague-yet-hard-to-miss warnings of child prostitution. Nothing graphic, but they're there.

Jason’s cold.

He’s been cold, and wet, for most of the day, s’just that now it’s dark and the bricks he’d huddled up to have long since lost their heat.

He buries his hands in his pockets, fingering the holes there, and stifles a cough. His head hurts.

He watches people scurry by on the sidewalk, dodging the alley opening like a monster might reach out and pull them in. It starts to rain again and he ducks behind the sort-of shelter of a nearby dumpster, the smell threatening to make him sick.

And then the door opens.

The door’s never opened before. But it’s open now, soft light spilling onto the dirt and cardboard. An umbrella appears first, small and black, followed by a lady all dressed up in lace ‘n velvet and heels.

The door closes as quickly as it opened, but the lady stays nearby, umbrella propped against her shoulder while she lights a cigarette.

Jason’s not gonna say anythin’, just gonna wait right here ‘til she goes back in.

That’s the plan. The safe plan, the one that’ll let him stay here where it’s mostly outta the rain. And then he ruins it by sneezing. Violently. And like five times in a row.

Maybe she didn’t-

“Hello?”

Shit.

Freeze or flee? If he doesn’t make any more noise, maybe she won’t notice him and just think it was someone on the sidewalk.

“Someone here?”

Nope, no one, finish your smoke break and go back inside, please…

Heels click over to him and the next thing he knows, the drizzles have stopped because she’s kneeling in front of him, umbrella tilted just enough to cover him, too.

“Hey, there, honey.” He blinks at her, wonders if he can squeeze by and make a run for it. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

“Don’t got an umbrella. You got a problem with that?”

He doesn’t like the look she’s giving him. Straight-up pity, like he’s a drowned puppy. Bullshit.

“It’s cold out here,” is all she says. “Don’t you want to come inside?”

Um…

She’s not…she doesn’t…look. There’s a certain type of people that…ask that…and she doesn’t look the type. Who’s he to know, but…

“No,” he mumbles, eyeing the gap between her and the sidewalk. He could probably fend her off long enough to find a safer alley, use those heels against her. “No, I’m just gonna…”

He sneezes again and his head swims. A lace-covered hand reaches out and brushes against his forehead. He pulls away, shivering.

“Oh, honey.” Pity. So much pity, he fucking hates it. “Come on, let’s get you dried off, get you somethin’ to eat.”

“I don’t want-”

“Trust me, nothing’s going to happen to you.” He doesn’t believe her. “Would you rather me bring you somethin’ out here?”

He doesn’t want anything, could be drugged or somethin’.

He shakes his head-mistake, big mistake-and draws as far away from her as possible, even though it means sacrificing the umbrella.

“Come on.” She stands up and moves just enough that his exit is that much harder to get to. “It’s just going to get worse, and we’ve got a skeleton crew right now. I promise nothing is going to happen to you.”

He struggles up, intending to make a run for it, and the resulting light-headedness has him nearly falling back down. The lady grabs his arm to steady him and apparently he doesn’t have a choice.

Hopefully the food’s drugged.

He lets her tug him to the door and again the soft light spills into the alleyway. S’bright, hurts his head. The lady furls the umbrella and sets it in a stand.

“Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes. Probably won’t fit you, but it’ll be better than being wet.”

Huh?

“Oi, Dove, whatcha got?” a man, tattoos visible thanks to rolled sleeves, shouts across the room. Jason swallows and tries not to pull away.

“Let him be, Olli, he’s just a kid.” The lady-Dove?-gives him a nudge. “Come on.”

The room’s big and everything in it looks like it costs more than the whole building. It’s all purple and gold and plush. There’s a stage on one wall and a bar on the other and just behind the bar is a little staircase. Dove leads him there.

“Up here. A lot of us keep spare clothes, ‘cuz of the weather.”

This room’s smaller but no less nice-it’s blue, though, and sure enough, there’s a wardrobe and a couple’a chests and a big mirror.

“Let me see…uh…” She looks him up and down. “Think you’ll have to borrow from me, everyone else is huge.”

“I-I don’t need-”

“Kiddo, you look like a drowned rat. And you sound like shit.” She rifles through a chest and comes up with black sweats and a t-shirt that says Stay sexy, don’t get murdered! “Here. Put these on, just throw what you’ve got over the rail there. Come on down when you’re ready and we’ll see about food, huh?”

And with that, she leaves him in the blue room. There’s no window to sneak out through, and the stairs only went here.

The shirt’s soft, he finds when he picks it up. Too big for him, but soft. He ends up tying a knot so it doesn’t turn into a dress. The sweats have to be rolled (and rolled, and rolled), but he eventually gets them so he won’t trip and die. They’re warm. And dry. And soft, real soft.

He doesn’t wanna go downstairs.

He goes anyway, in case they come up here instead.

There’s not a lot of people in here-six or seven, maybe. Most of ‘em don’t even notice him, or don’t care. He wonders what they’re doing. Construction, he can see that, but like, last-minute construction. Upholstery and things.

Dove’s across the room, arguing with a man about ‘boss said’. Boss? So she’s not in charge here? What’s goin’ on?

He sneezes-damn-and starts to cough. Dove’s kneeling in front of him in a flash.

“A little dryer?” He manages a nod. “Okay, let’s see…kitchen’s not stocked, but there might be some hot chocolate back there. Wanna start with that?” He shrugs. It doesn’t matter. “Come on. You can watch me make it.” Huh? “If I come out here and find you raiding that liquor cabinet, I will rat you out!”

This last is directed at Olli, who laughs.

“Just a drop, Dove?”

“You wanna explain to Penguin that we’re out of booze before we even open?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then no.”

Penguin? As in, the guy that used to be a crime boss, then the mayor, and then went back to crime?

Shit. He’s gonna die. He’s seen too much and forget knock-out drugs, the hot chocolate’s gonna be poisoned.

“I’m actually okay, so…”

Nature hates him. He’s just about to start inching towards the door when there’s a crack and a BOOOOOOOM outside, loud enough to feel in his bones.

“You’re not going back out in this. Come on.”

She steers him towards a pair of swinging doors. The kitchen’s cold, empty and steel. Some of the cabinets are half-open, and Dove frowns and smacks them shut, muttering about ‘raised by wolves’ and ‘take an eye out’.

“I swear, if we’re out, they’re going out to get me more, that was my box-here we are!” She pulls a blue box out of a cupboard. “I always have to hide it, because they ruin it with cheap whiskey.”

He doesn’t say anything. Outside, there’s another BOOM of thunder.

The kitchen floor is cold against his toes and that, more than anything, reminds him that running isn’t worth it. They’ll catch him, easy, and that’ll be the end of that.

Dove fills a kettle with water from the tap, plunks it on the stove, and turns on the gas.

“We gotta wait a bit, this stove takes its sweet time boiling water. Just water. Everything else is fine, but water? You could take over Gotham while you wait.”

“Like that’s hard,” he mumbles involuntarily. She snorts and pulls down mugs.

“And there’s that Crime Alley sass. Thought you had some in there.” Clunk, clunk, go the mugs against the counter. “I mean what I said. Nothing is going to happen to you tonight.”

Yeah, he’s heard that one before.

He sneezes again-ow-and wraps his arms around himself. He’s confused. There’s a lotta ways this should be going, but it’s…not.

“You got a name, kiddo?”

“Jason,” he mutters.

“Good to meet you. I’m Dove.”

Yeah. He figured.

She tears the envelopes open, one by one, and dumps the brown powder into the mugs. Nothing else follows. Maybe they’re not gonna poison him for seeing things. Like there’s anything to see, but he knows how crime lords work. No witnesses.

“I didn’t see nothin’,” he says anyway, just in case. Dove snorts again and shakes her head.

“Boss is out of town, and he’s not the type to murder kids. He’s bad with them, though. God, he visited a school once…I never thought I’d be so glad to see him go back to crime.”

“What happened?”

“His advice for dealing with bullies was ‘push them down the stairs’.”

Oh.

That’s…that’s…it probably works, but still.

The kettle screeches and he flinches. Dove pours the water into the mugs, the glug-glug-glug loud in the open space. Nothing else follows the water-no hidden vial or envelope or anything. In the main room, something thuds and there’s swearing.

“Stay here. Spoons are in the right-hand drawer, if you wanna mix that up.”

Click-clack, click-clack.

He tugs the drawer open, steel like ice against his fingers. Sure enough, there’s spoons, all piled in a little basket.

“The hell’d you do?”

“It’s fine, I got it.”

“If I have to tell the boss that you idiots broke things, I will be naming names.”

“Aw, c’mon…”

“I know it was you that ate my damn leftovers, don’t even test me.”

“That was last week!”

Jason grins despite himself and leans up. The powder’s mostly settled in a little hill at the bottom of the mugs, but there’s some floating at the top. Looks normal. Smells normal. Probably not ‘special crime lord poison hot chocolate’, then.

“Just be careful, okay? I have bigger shit to worry about than you breaking the sound system.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Dove comes back in, rolling her eyes. Jason steps away from the counter and eyes the swinging doors.

“Life lesson-padlock your leftovers,” she grumbles. “All set? Lemme see if there’s food.”

He wraps his hands around the mug, soaking up the warmth. A little voice in the back of his mind says it’s too hot, but his numb fingers refuse to let go. It’s the warmest thing he’s felt in days and like hell is he giving that up.

“Uh…how’s pizza sound?”

“I’m good…”

“Well, they have to eat, I have to eat, you may as well eat with us. C’mon.” They go back into the main room. “Calling pizza, who wants what?”

Jason’s never seen such a swarm of noise, not from adults. They all teleport across the room, bickering over pineapple (‘fuck, don’t go ruining the art, man!’ ‘I’m not, and stop swearing in front of the kid!’ ‘fudge you!’).

* * *

By the time dinner’s over, Jason’s hot chocolate is gone. He’s warm (ish) and more sleepy than anything else. The men have long since stopped even pretending to work and are sprawled on the stage, arguing about the lyrics to ‘Dr. Feelgood’. He’s sitting up against the wall, wishing the lights wouldn’t make everything seem so blurry and wondering when they’ll throw him out.

He yawns and shakes his head to try and wake himself up a little more. It doesn’t work, but it makes everything that much blurrier…but that could be the headache.

“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s ‘come play with cock’, clear as fuckin’ day.”

“Stop swearing in front of the kid, dummy! And no it’s not.”

“V’heard worse,” he says. “You don’t have to watch it around me.”

“You’re like nine, I don’t swear around kids younger than thirteen.”

“Ten!”

All that does is make them laugh and the one-the ‘don’t swear’ one-reaches over to ruffle his hair. He pulls away and swats half-heartedly at the scarred hand.

“Still younger than thirteen. So stop swearing, ipshit-day.”

“I know what you said.”

They laugh harder. Jason scowls and wraps his arms around his knees.

Eventually the conversation quiets down, turning to spouses and kids, and Jason yawns again, winces when it turns into a nasty hacking. Dove gets up and vanishes into the kitchen. Should he follow? She didn’t say to follow, and nobody else is paying any attention to him, but…

The coughing doesn’t want to stop and he doesn’t notice, at first, that the conversation’s stopped. Not until Dove’s crouching in front of him again, holding out a glass of water. The others are looking over with that same pity she had before and he refuses to make eye contact with any of them.

“Gettin’ tired?” He shakes his head, knowing that ‘tired’ means ‘time to go home’ which means ‘get out now’. From the look of her, she doesn’t believe him. “You sure? It’s awfully late.”

He’s had later nights.

“M’fine.”

“Well, at least come sit with me, huh? Test out the booths, make sure they’re all good for the customers.”

That’s the flimsiest lie he’s ever heard, but he gets up anyway and scrunches into a plush booth near the bar. It’s purple and velvet and soft and he doesn’t even try to stop rubbing his fingers over it.

“I gotta go supervise, okay? If you want anything, just yell.”

Once she’s not looking, he curls up on his side, looking out at the other tables. It feels good to lie down on something that’s not cardboard or otherwise rescued from a dumpster. Feels even better to close his eyes to the blurriness. Just for a minute, that’s all.

A minute turns into ten turns into twenty, and the next thing he knows, someone’s draping a coat over him.

“Mm…”

“Shh.” No Swearing Guy. “Go back to sleep, buddy.”

S’just a coat. And it’s warm, real warm.

He wasn’t sleeping, but he’ll close his eyes again if it means he gets to keep the coat for a bit.

No Swearing Guy walks away and Jason burrows under the heavy fabric. After a few minutes, he makes a few adjustments so’s the sleeves are bunched up to make a pillow. If he’s gonna be here, he may as well be comfy, right?

Just for a little bit. Tha’s all, just for a little bit, then he’ll get up and let himself out.

Few more minutes.

Jus’ a few more minutes…

Zzz.

THE END

[powerstrangerdacre]

Wild

Summary: As Billy and Y/N’s feelings deepen, the gang finds out about their “relationship”. Things get rough with the gang and Billy can’t stand to see his little beasty get hurt.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warning: Cursing, fighting

Word Count: 1620+

AN: I do not in any way condone any of Billy’s behavior in Stranger Things. His character is fun to write for though, so I thought I’d give it a try. If you want, please feel free to request anything. I write for either Billy, Steve, Dacre or Joe. Thanks for reading, I hope you’ll like this! (I know this is a repost. My account got deleted and I’m uploading most of my work once again...)

PART 1

Weeks and months passed, and soon the once foreign Hawkins slowly became your home. The empty, quiet house was now full of memories and laughter. Memories of you and the boys. Memories of you and Billy. They had become your family, your brothers. Obviously, a certain blue-eyed devil that had taken over your home, being the exception.

Billy had taken a liking to hiding away in your little corner of tranquility, and you didn’t know if you wanted to throw him out or keep him there forever. He showed up at your house every night without exception, and you didn’t mind. You weren’t dating. You weren’t in “love”. And while other people drowned in the simple concept of the complicated feeling, you dreaded it. Love was temporary. Love meant loss, and loss meant heartbreak. Love wasn’t meant for people like you.

But you found yourself laying on his chest one morning, drawing random patterns on his bare skin as he slept peacefully. And it felt right to you. It felt safe. It was as if the world fell away when the two of you were together. You had no worries, no stress. You didn’t have to think about what tomorrow might bring, because you knew that even if everything around you fell apart and disappeared, Billy would always be that one constant in your life. And you would be the one in his.

“’Morning beasty.” he called, voice raspy and deep. The sound made your fingers halt, making him groan in response. “Don’t stop. It feels good.” he grumbled, adjusting his position slightly so he could grab his cigarettes. He took two out of the pack, giving you one as he lit the other. You laid like that, talking about sweet nothings, until thunderous knocks on your door stopped you from speaking. You hissed a “Shit” and a “Fuck” under your breath, making him chuckle as you stumbled to put your clothes on. “You’ expecting someone?” he asked you as he extinguished what must’ve been his tenth cigarette. You thought for a second, then it hit you. The boys.

You walked to the door, stopping next to a mirror, fixing your hair to the best you could in five seconds. “Come ooooon beasty.” Luke sing-sang, mocking your now well-known nickname. “I know you’re in there, open the door.” with that, you swung the door open, letting the three guys in. “What are you doing here so early?” you asked, rubbing your eyes to look like you had just woken up.

But they weren’t looking at you, their eyes were trained on something behind you, and you prayed to all that’s nice and beautiful that Billy hadn’t been stupid enough to just walk out. Obviously, you were out of luck. He stood in the doorway to your bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of jogging pants.

“Had a sleepover and didn’t even think to invite us?” Luke said, surprisingly teasingly. “What’re they doing here?” Billy asked you, not bothering to answer his question. “Well Billy, a little birdie told us that they saw you here, and… we were just trying to make sure that you didn’t come to… you know, do something stupid.” Luke said, walking over to Billy, putting an arm over his shoulders like they were the best of pals. “But it seems like we had nothing to be worried about.” Ace and Hunter laughed at that, making you confused.

“You’re not mad?” you whispered to Luke as the others went over to the couch, dragging Billy with them. “Look Y/N, I can’t say I’m not worried. But you obviously see something in that fuckface… and your friends are our friends… so…” he explained, making you smile. People thought they were the big, bad wolves of Hawkins, but really, they were just big softies. “So why did you really come?” you asked, making him shake his head. “Trouble.”

“What’s the deal?” “The jocks… they jumped us again yesterday. They wrecked Ace’s bike.” he explained, making sure that no one could hear him. The jocks had been giving you trouble for a while now, but this time it had gone too far. It was time to end the feud. “We did hear that Billy was at your place, we thought he was in on it, that’s why we came. We need to teach them a lesson.” “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” “Try to get Billy on our side, we need more people.”

 You walked away from the football field, spray-can and sledge-hammer in hand, and a grin that went up to your ears on your lips. They wrecked Ace’s bike, you wrecked what was most important to them. It was that easy. They would most likely try and take revenge, but you didn’t care. You were scared, but you didn’t care. There was one thought that made you ecstatic though. There would be no way in hell that they would be able to play their game on Friday with the leaderboard covered and the goalposts to the ground. “What now?” Hunter asked you, making you turn around on your bike as a cigarette hung loosely between your lips “Now, we wait.”

And you didn’t have to wait for long. Monday rolled around and with it came the rumors about who could have sabotaged the game. That was everything the people were talking about. “Why would anyone do that?” “What are we going to do about it?”. The teen’s murmur died as you and the boys walked through the school doors. All of a sudden, they knew what had happened, but they had no way to prove it. You smiled to yourself before seeing Billy storming towards you, making your smirk fall.

“What were you thinking?! Breaking the posts?! Spray-painting the leader-board?!” he argued as you reached the back of the school. You took a cigarette and lit it calmly, not looking at him. “Say something!” “What do you want me to say?!” “What could have possessed you to do something as stupid as that? The field is in ruins! Are you trying to get yourself expelled?!” “Billy! They wrecked Ace’s bike! They’ve been messing with us for months! Are you seriously taking their side?!” “This isn’t about sides-“ “-I can’t believe you! I get that you want nothing to do with it! But if it’s like that, then stay out of-“ “-YOU COULD GET HURT!” he yelled, the sudden volume change startling you. The silence that followed the shout made you wish that he would’ve kept yelling though. It would’ve been better to be screamed at than stared at in that way. “You could get hurt…” he said softly, breaking the silence. “I could lose you. And if you want to make this about sides, I’ll be on whatever side makes sure that you stay safe. Can’t you see that?” you shook your head, his words making you feel something in the pit of your stomach. You quickly masked it with rage though, not letting the weakness show. “I don’t care Billy! Listen… You’re either on our side, on theirs, or you stay out of it…” you warned, before walking away.

You knew you had been right about them taking revenge as you stood on the main street on the day of the game. Ace, Luke and Hunter stood by yours side, as you watched three cars pull up in front of you. “Billy in?” Luke asked, and you shook your head, cursing him in your mind. You knew your so-called “relationship” with him had been strained by the whole thing, so you didn’t expect him to show up.

Tommy walked out of his car, as more people started gathering around. “Well, well, well… The vandals actually showed up.” he said, making you chuckle. “You should’ve let us alone while you had the chance.” Luke called as he and Tommy walked to the opening between the two groups while you counted the jocks. Twelve to four, this shouldn’t give you any trouble.

Before you knew it, a fight erupted between them and your group. Shouts and grunts floated through the air, as well as the cracking of bones. You swung at one them, whooping maniacally when he went down. You saw two jocks make their way behind Luke, grabbing and holding him as Tommy swung his fists at his stomach. Running over, you got between them and jabbed him, making him stumble back a few steps. “You should’ve listened to Billy and stayed away, beasty.” You chuckled at his comment “You should know that a wild animal can’t learn how to sit, fucktard.”

You pinned Tommy to a wall as the boys fought what little remained of the jocks. “This isn’t going as well as you thought it would huh?” you asked as he growled at you. “Your pristine little momma’s boys not doing as well in fights as they did with ruining Ace’s bike? Does that make you scared?” you taunted. “Fuck you.” You noticed a glint by his hand, before you were pulled off him, just in time. The knife grazed your side, making you hiss in pain.

Billy held you back as Tommy ran to his car, calling his lackeys away. “What the fuck did you do?! They got away!” “I just saved your life! A thank you would be nice!” “Go fuck yourself Billy, why the hell are you even here?!” you yelled at each-other before silence fell over the both of you. He looked deeply into your eyes, making your head spin. “Stop. Stop doing this bullshit! Stop acting like you care when you obviously don’t! You should’ve just stayed away…” you hissed, but you couldn’t look at him. “I care about you Y/N! Okay?! I told you to stay away from this whole bullshit! It’s dangerous!” he silenced you.

The words repeated over and over in your head, “I care about you.”. “I don’t… I… I’m sorry Billy. This little… fling. It has to end. I don’t care about you like that.” 

“Maybe when you look me in the eyes while you say that, I’ll actually believe you.”

PART 3