#he grabbed these two dudes and made them headbutt each other before doing the splits mid air into their guts

[mikakuna]

jason telling black mask he smells and needs to take a bath in his arkham knight dlc is something i didn't know i needed <3

[youtuberswithalex]

PRVL, Vol 3, Ch 3: It’s Brawl in the Family

Summary: Riad’s risky move comes to play as Roman and their friends watch and worry in the stands. Will it pay off, or will it cost Team AMBR the match?

Word Count: 3,291

Warnings: Fighting (in a tournament), mentions of alcohol

Tag List: @haikyuupaladin @an0therrand0 @isabel3710 @ilia-a-isms (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

Masterpost – Volume 1 – Previous - Next 

---

Anole kept his head under the shallow water and swam as fast as he could, eyes glued to the blurs fighting at the top of the bird’s nest. Each kick of his feet sent sand up to cloud the water further; by the time he made it to the other end of the pool, he could hardly see a thing.

He pressed his hands on the rising bank and scrambled onto dry land, frantically pushing his now-soaked bangs out of his face.

The ground jolted beneath his feet.

Letting out a yelp, Anole stumbled and crashed face-first into the sand as the stage began to tremble.

Ash and Mauve gasped and threw themselves onto the edges of the bird’s nest, gripping with white knuckles while Bora and Marjani grabbed each other’s hands and beamed.

Myrtille toppled backwards and fell to her knees. She slammed her ice saw into the floor before slamming her metal leg down next to it, cleats shooting out from the bottom.

The sound of cracking rock sounded across the arena, and as Sakiz lost her hold, the loose boulder toppled over. It splashed into the lava pit, sending bubbles flying everywhere.

Sakiz landed right on top with a heavy oof!, and only a drop of lava hit her armor.

The earthquake slowed to a stop.

Riad sat up and let out a sigh of relief before Myrtille let out a cry and tackled him back to the ground.

Looping his bow around the quiver on his back, Anole leapt onto the mast, the scaly grooves on his palms sticking easily to the wood. He swung his feet far behind him as he used his upper body strength to scale his way up. When he reached the bottom of the bird’s nest, he braced his heels below him; he walked his hands across the bottom as quickly as he could before gripping the boards on the side and swinging out.

Through the cracks, he watched as Ash threw an uppercut into Marjani’s chin; in return, she kicked her back, sending her struggling to keep her balance on the edge.

Anole grinned.

He gripped the top of the nest and hoisted himself up as he threw out a leg to knock Ash to the ground. Mauve whipped around and aimed an arrow at him, but he somersaulted onto the floor just as it whizzed past his hair. Yanking his own weapon out, he shot an arrow through her dress, pinning her to the side of the compartment.

“Four square, huh?” Bora huffed.

Growling, Anole scrambled over and started to unwrap the chain. “Shut up, not my best plan.”

The chain dropped to the ground, and Marjani shoved one of her swords into Bora’s hands. “Don’t blame, fight,” she said.

There was a laugh behind them.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Mauve replied.

The three whipped around to see her balancing on the side of the bird’s nest, her taut bow aiming at their feet. Ash crouched on the floor next to her, her chain in one hand and Anole’s arrow in the other.

“This fight’s over.”

She fired a red arrow and dropped; Ash leapt out after her, grasping her by the wrist. The arrow wedged itself into the wood in front of Anole’s feet and started to flash.

“Great,” he grumbled.

Ka-BOOM!

Nila gasped as they watched three bodies go sailing across the field. “They’re not gonna land it!”

Thamir grimaced. “So that means…”

The buzzer sounded.

“Ooh, what an upset!” Professor Port’s voice echoed around the arena. “Three out of the four members of Team AMBR have been eliminated by knock-out!”

“Truly, what an unfortunate circumstance! It is now up to Mr. Airtafae to win this match, with his worryingly-low Aura levels after that astonishing demonstration of his semblance!”

“Four against one,” Lloyd finished. “This isn’t going to end well.”

Roman whirled around to glare at him. “How dare you assume that my boyfriend can’t hold his own!” he exclaimed. “Riad can and will take these fine ladies single-handedly and destroy them!”

“I have reason to believe you are highly overestimating him,” Logan stated.

“Roman’s definitely got one hell of a pair of rose-tinted glasses,” Thamir laughed.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Roman doesn’t wear glasses…”

Riad kicked Myrtille off of him and dove for his mace; as soon as it was in his hands, he slammed it into the ground, setting off an explosion that had both him and Myrtille flying in opposite directions. He skidded to a stop, one hand on the ground for balance, as she tumbled towards the water.

Just before she fell in, Mauve leapt over the water and shoved her down to the stage. Ash landed next to them and launched her chain into the lava field, snatching Sakiz and bringing her to safety in a second.

They slowly stalked around him; he watched carefully, gripping his weapon tight.

“You might as well give up now, kid,” Ash said. “There’s no winning this match for your precious team.”

He shot her a confident smirk. “I don’t stop fighting until the end.”

Myrtille let out a hum. “That’s respectable. You seem like a cool guy. I kinda wish we didn’t have to do this to you.”

“Let’s get dinner sometime after this,” Sakiz offered.

“Sorry, girls. I’m already taken.”

Behind him, he heard the creaking of a bow.

“Who said any of us were interested?” Mauve asked.

Riad whirled around and swung his mace, the spikes crashing into the arrow just before it hit him; he ducked just as a machete flew above his head and swung his leg to knock Sakiz’s feet out from under her. As she fell forward, he leapt up and landed an uppercut on her jaw. He snatched the chain as it flew towards him, yanking Ash into a kick in the stomach. The ice saw flew down out of the corner of his eye, and he threw his mace up just in time to block.

Myrtille spun and twirled her saw, wrapping the chain of his mace around the handle before yanking him over and putting him in a headlock. He threw his elbow into her stomach, but she held her ground.

“Now!”

With wide eyes, Riad watched the other three come sprinting towards him.

A punch to the stomach.

A kick to the shin.

A headbutt to the face.

A buzzer.

“Oh, and with that brutal elimination, Team SAMM proceeds to the Doubles Round!”

As the girls dropped their stances to cheer, Riad slumped to the floor, panting heavily. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed through his teeth.

“Riad!” a voice screamed.

Roman shot into the air and towards the stage, ignoring his friends’ cries in favor of keeping his focus on his fallen love. It was hardly a split second later when, not unlike a bird to a well-cleaned window, he crashed into the shield protecting the stands from harm.

He fell to the floor with a groan; when he sat up and looked over to Riad, he was slowly making his way towards the locker rooms, shoulders low and his mace dragging behind.

-----

 “That was awful.”

Virtus offered a soft, sympathetic smile and put his hand on Roman’s shoulder as they stepped off the airship. “Yeah, that’s tournaments, kid. It’s always the people you want to win that lose.”

“But it’s so not fair!” Roman exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “How did we pass onto Round Two and not AMBR?!”

“We were against different teams, Roman,” Logan pointed out. “There is no evidence to suggest that we would have won against SAMM, nor that Team AMBR would have lost to Team JTTT.”

Roman looked away. “I know, but… still. Seeing Riad like that…” He sighed. “I’d at least have felt a little better if Anole had actually let me talk to them.”

Esther adjusted her hijab. “Give them time to lick their wounds. They need it.”

Giving his shoulder one final pat, Virtus put his hands on his hips and stopped to look at the group. “Well, I don’t know about you three, but watching all that fighting made me hungry. Whaddya say we meet up with the other two and head into Vale to get something to eat?”

“Why not go to the fairgrounds?” Roman asked.

“Can’t exactly eat in public without pulling that down, now, can we?” Esther said, pointing to Virtus’s mask.

“Oh. Right.”

Logan opened his scroll. “I’ll send Virgil a message to have them meet us—”

“Guys! Guys!”

They spun around to see Virgil already sprinting towards them, Patton hot on his heels. The Lyceums each reached for their weapons; as soon as they saw the huge grin on Virgil’s face, they relaxed.

The two skidded to a stop, and Virgil frantically pointed behind him towards the courtyard. “Did you guys see that?! Please tell me you saw that!”

“See what?” Roman asked.

Virgil let out a cry and dug his hands into his hair. “You just missed this incredible fight!”

“In the courtyard?”

“Yes!”

“There was this Huntsman with a big sword,” Patton explained, “And he was fighting with an Atlas Military woman!”

“Not just any woman—a specialist!” Virgil added. “They were so fast and strong—dude would’ve beaten her clean if General Ironwood hadn’t stepped in!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Who would be foolish enough to attack an Atlas Military Specialist?”

Patton shrugged. “I think his name was Crow, or something.”

Roman froze. “Wait—wait—you said he had a big sword? Was he drunk?!”

“Um… Maybe?”

His face turned a deep red. “Was… Was it Qrow Branwen…?”

“The one from Team STRQ?” Virtus asked. “Is he still picking fights?”

Roman buried his face in his hands, wings curling around himself. “Gods…! That was one of my teachers at Signal!”

“What?!”

“The drunk dude?!”

“He’s a teacher?!”

“Not anymore,” Roman replied as he dropped his hands. “Yang said that he left to go on some mission that was going to last a really long time or something. Didn’t think he’d be returning at all, let alone like that…”

Logan crossed his arms. “And where would Yang have acquired that information?”

“Um… Her and Ruby’s dad?” Roman shot. “He’s their uncle.”

Virtus smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Gah, of course she is! Should’ve known from the moment Ruby pulled out her scythe!”

“Oh, come on! You couldn’t have guessed it just by that!” Esther exclaimed as she swatted his shoulder. “That girl in Team AMBR had one, too! It’s the hair that should’ve given it away!”

“Her hair doesn’t look anything like his!”

“Oh, what are you—?!”

“Okay, okay—” Logan put his hands between the two and shook his head. “If we want to eat in Vale, we cannot start this conversation. Patton, Virgil, would you like to join us?”

Virgil put his hands in his pockets. “Sure, I could go for some food. Where are we going?”

“I’ve got a few places in mind we can pick from,” Virtus said. “We can decide when we get closer.”

“Trust us when we say the food is great,” Esther added. “One of the places has a pumpkin bread that is absolutely to die for.”

Roman perked up. “Oh? Riad loves pumpkin bread! You must tell me where I can find this!”

Logan looked to Patton; he frowned when he saw his arms wrapped around himself, looking away.

“Patton?”

His head snapped up. “Huh?”

“Are you going to be joining us for dinner?” he asked again.

Shifting his weight between his feet, Patton looked away hesitantly and shrugged. “I… don’t think I can,” he whispered. “I don’t really have any Lien…”

“Who said you were paying?” Virtus cut in.

Patton blinked at him, eyes wide. “U-Uh… I thought…”

Virtus cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Hey, c’mon. We’ve got the money, and you kids definitely earned it today!”

“No, it’s—it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“We want to,” he replied. “We wanna get to know you kids better, anyway. What better way to do it than over some grub?”

“I…”

Mouth still half open, his eyes flicked between Virtus’ and Logan’s shoes; when they lifted to look at Logan’s face, he did his best to offer an encouraging smile. Patton shrunk in on himself further before turning to Virtus.

“Are you sure…?”

Virtus beamed. “Absolutely! C’mon, now. This restaurant isn’t going to pick itself!”

He turned and started to lead the group back towards the airships while Logan waited in place for Patton to catch up. As soon as he was near, he held out his hand; Patton glanced at it, softly shook his head, and scurried along.

Logan frowned before trailing after them.

----

 The setting sun shone a soft, warm glow through the windows of the quiet diner. Though it was rather packed compared to a normal day, most of the tables kept their conversations soft and to themselves. Servers wandered between their tables, and the radio playing in the background left a calm atmosphere.

At a table near the back, one of the patrons slammed his fist down.

“Tallahassee couldn’t hold a flame to Pyrrha Nikos!” Virgil exclaimed.

“Are you kidding me?! She doesn’t even use her Semblance in battles!” Virtus shot back. “Tallahassee has two AI in her armor! Two!”

“Yeah, exactly! Pyrrha doesn’t need any help! She can kick anyone’s butt with just her raw strength alone!”

Logan scooped up some pasta. “Virgil does have a point, Father. She would also surely allow the rest of Team JNPR to help her, whereas Tallahassee refuses to accept any help, be it from the Pinks, the Purples, or the Mercenaries.”

“Of course she wouldn’t, they’re all idiots!” Virtus laughed, nudging Logan hard enough that his food fell back to the plate. “That’s the whole point of the show!”

Patton frowned, looking to Virgil. “I thought it was about capture the flag in a canyon?”

Roman let out a groan and dropped his fork to run his hands through his hair. “Is there nothing else we can talk about other than a theoretical fight between a cartoon character and a real person?!”

“PvP isn’t a cartoon,” Virgil huffed. “It’s made in a video game.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t know, Roman. Pink Versus Purple seems to be a show you would enjoy,” Logan said.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. You don’t agree?”

“Uh… Not really,” he replied. “It’s, like, all dialogue. No singing or dancing or any of that Volt Tawny crap.”

Roman gasped. “Did you just call Volt Tawny—?!”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Esther interrupted. “Roman had a point earlier. We can debate fictional characters against each other any time, but we’ve got a whole tournament right in front of us that we’ll never get a second chance to speculate on! Why aren’t we pitting two real people against each other?!”

“Like who?” Logan asked.

Patton poked at his small plate of fries. “What about that Penny girl that Ruby’s been hanging out with?”

Virtus slapped his hands together and pointed at him, ignoring the way he flinched. “Now she’s a real fighter!” he exclaimed. “I would not be surprised at all if she were to win this year! That kid’s got some real power behind those swords!”

“No, way! Coco Adel’s got it in the bag!” Esther said.

“Ohh, you’re just saying that because you like her weapon!”

Logan cleared his throat, rendering his parents silent. “I believe we do, in fact, still have a matter we need to discuss about the tournament.”

Roman sunk into the booth with a sigh; Virgil looked between the two with a raised eyebrow. “And that would be…?”

“Who will be proceeding from our team to the Doubles round.” He reached up to fiddle with his necklace as he began to inspect his suddenly very interesting pasta. “I… would very much appreciate it if you would allow me to be one. I’ll admit that my reasons are more… sentimental, than anything, but I’m sure you know that I would fight to my full potential in the name of our team, regardless of the emotions behind it.”

Virtus gently put his hand on his shoulder; Logan swallowed thickly and placed his hand over top of his. He took a deep breath and looked at each of his three teammates in turn.

“That being said,” he continued, voice cracking and steadying within a syllable, “It would mean a great deal to me if you were to choose me to proceed forward in the tournament.”

“Oh, Logan!” Patton cooed. “Of course you can!”

“You are the strongest member of our team,” Roman added. “I don’t think there was any chance we’d tell you not to.”

Virgil smiled and gave him a soft kick under the table. “Yeah, dude, if anyone can win this for us, it’s you. You’re gonna destroy whoever we go up against, no matter who it is.” Then, with a thumbs up, he added, “You’ve got our support.”

If there was an extra sheen to Logan’s eyes, no one said a word.

“Thank you,” he thickly responded. “I promise I will not disappoint you.”

Virtus frowned, brow furrowing as he turned to look at Logan. “What?”

Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Um— I believe we still need to choose one more of us to join me in the next round.”

“Uh… Yeah,” Virgil carefully replied, watching as Virtus and Esther shot each other a glance over Logan’s head. “Yeah, um… I think Patton should be the one to go.”

Patton startled, dropping a fry back onto his plate. “M-Me?!”

“That is an excellent suggestion,” Logan replied.

With wide eyes, Patton leaned forward in the booth to watch as Roman nodded along with them. His mouth opened and closed a few times as his gaze darted between the three.

“Why… Why me?” he asked, voice about an octave higher than normal.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t want to be out on stage again,” Virgil said. He took a deep breath and leaned back. “Not in front of that many people, at least.”

“And, Roman was the only one of us to get knocked out in our fight,” Logan added. “Not to mention how wonderful an opportunity it would be to help you train yourself in fighting with your semblance.”

Patton spluttered. “But—But you know I can’t! If—”

His eyes flicked to Virtus for just a split second. He shrunk in on himself.

“…You know why I can’t use it in the tournament,” he quietly finished.

“With all due respect, Pat, I don’t think it matters much at this point,” Roman piped in. “They’ve probably already seen the match.”

Gaze falling to the floor, Patton reached up to fiddle with the edges of his collar. “That’s what I’m afraid of…”

“What does it even matter?” Virgil questioned, gently nudging his arm. “You haven’t talked to them in months, and it’s not like you’re going to any time soon. If they try to come fight you, the three of us would get rid of them in a second. You know that, don’t you?”

“I… do, I guess…”

“Then there should be nothing to fear,” Logan stated. Then, with a soft smile, he added, “Please, Patton. I truly believe you are the best person to participate in the next round with me.”

Patton looked up at him, still hunching in on himself. “…You’re sure?”

Logan held out a hand. “I’m positive.”

There was a long moment where he stared at it and chewed on his lip. The others watched with baited breath.

Finally, Patton let out a breath, swallowed thickly, and took Logan’s hand.

“I’ll do my best.”

[ckret2]

OOOH! Okay I'll be more specific :D I mainly struggle with my writing style and how I want to describe things- I usually make my fics up as I go b/c I usually hesitate to write an outline b/c i usually don't get a solid idea how I want it to go i guess?? how do you usually plan out your rodorah fics too btw?

And here's the second half of the question!!

I shared my outlining process for longfics, but for short fics I usually don't outline either. What I do do is decide what one specific thing I want my fic to do, and then I write toward that. In this one my goal was “split off from canon exactly one second before Ghidorah commits the act that sets him on the path that dooms him—killing Mothra—and do it in a way that allows Rodorah to happen.” In this one my goal was “holy shit i decided my two main characters don’t speak the same language, how the fuck am i going to get them to actually communicate with each other?” In this one my goal was “uhhhhhhhhhhh get ghidorah to not leave earth,” with a side of “remember that basically all kaiju conflicts are resolved by physical altercations rather than arguments so have them actually fight from time to time!” and a dessert of “Rodan deserves to win some fights, I want to write him winning some fights.”

In the fic after next—the one I’ve already written but not posted yet—my goal was first “when Rodan visited Mothra I had a hard time explaining in his & Ghidorah’s combined twelve vocabulary words where he was going, I need a quicker/easier way to have Rodan explain to Ghidorah where he’s going when he makes a day trip away from Isla de Mara” and then it was “Rodan should make a map. A globe. Rodan’s gonna make a globe. out of lava.” and then it was “it’d be a great way to show Ghidorah’s psychology and the way he looks down on species he doesn’t perceive as ‘machine maker’ species—including looking down on his own species—for him to be like ‘oh that’s cute Rodan’s making a ball’ and then be like ‘holy shit holy fuck he made an accurate world globe that’s amazing i am not smart enough to be hanging out with this guy.’” And by that point, I had a whole-ass fic, because it has the process of Rodan making this object and cutting back and forth with Ghidorah’s perspective as he first wildly underrates Rodan’s project and then wildly overrates Rodan’s project. And all that started because I was annoyed a dozen fics ago over trying to write Rodan explaining his travel plans.

But aside from those goals—goals which, sometimes, are very small—I often don’t start a fic knowing where I’m gonna go with it or everything precisely that’s going to happen.

And so the other things that guide my fics as I’m writing them—to ensure I don’t accidentally spin myself off sideways into a plot where the Mexican Navy declares war on Ghidorah and we totally forget about Rodan or a plot where aliens invade the Earth and then I don’t know how to continue and stop writing—is a handful of long-term goals. I’m not going to list all of them, because some of them would be big spoilers for eventual plot points, but among them are obvious things like “eventually Rodan is going to fully return Ghidorah’s feelings,” and “SOMEDAY Rodan’s gotta find out that Ghidorah was trying to destroy the planet,” and “I’d like Ghidorah to casually visit another planet to get Rodan presents, while Monarch flips its shit because this dude just brought back rocks from Venus and it only took him a couple of weeks”—things like that.

So as I’m writing, even if I’ve got no idea how or why I’m going to write those things, they’re in the back of my head. I know to not, like, have Ghidorah do things that Rodan absolutely can’t stand, because that’ll get in the way of Rodan falling for him—instead I should fic by fic be giving Rodan more things to like about Ghidorah. And then when I see a small opportunity for Ghidorah to do something little that would impress Rodan, I take it.

I don’t know when the hell Rodan’s gonna find out Ghidorah was trying to destroy the planet, and I’ve got a half dozen fuzzy ideas for what the consequences of that event could be but haven’t settled on one yet—but even though I don’t know when I’m gonna do it, I’m always very conscious of the fact that Rodan doesn’t know yet, and I’m especially conscious of that during his interactions with Mothra—because like I don’t want the conversation to get tilted in a direction where she’ll end up just casually mentioning it to him, because that’s NOT a casual discovery, that’s a revelation that deserves to be the climax of a scene because it’s got the potential to shake up or even destroy Rodan & Ghidorah’s relationship depending on how they navigate things after that.

I don’t know when Ghidorah’s going to visit another planet yet, but I know that for that to make sense, he’s got to be in a position where he feels like getting Rodan gifts—which means a) he’s got to find out that earthlings are into giving each other physical items as markers of affection/courtship, and b) he’s got to develop to a position where he feels more free to express his affections toward Rodan in ways other than quick headbutts or cuddles he immediately gets embarrassed about, and c) he’s got to feel secure enough in his relationship with Rodan that he won’t think it’ll crash down if he leaves for a couple weeks, and d) San’s got to feel securely anchored enough to his new home on Earth that he won’t be afraid that making a short space trip will drive the other two heads to go “actually, yknow what, now that we’re already out here, screw Earth, let’s move on to the next solar system and never come back,” and e) Ni’s got to be on board enough with this relationship that he won’t grumble and grouse about making a big damn elaborate trip just to grab some trinkets for their bird. Those are a bunch of tinier goals that I can work into fics one by one.

One of my goals is for Gigan to show up on Earth eventually, ya know, for the drama of it all. I don’t know when or how, but it means when I wrote the one fic I’ve written from his perspective, I knew to set it up so that it would make logical sense from that fic when he eventually pops up on Earth.

So that’s a way to write fics, especially short fics, and especially a series of short fics, without an outline. Think of it like a connect-the-dots picture. You might have one or two vague or distant goals—say, "I want these two characters to get married eventually”—and that’s one dot in the distance you’re trying to reach, and so you’re vaguely thinking about how to reach that dot and you go, “well, it’ll be hard for them to get married because they’re in enemy factions,” and now you’ve got a new dot to stick a little closer than the distant one, “one character switches sides,” and now you’re like “but why would that character switch sides?” and now you’ve got a dot a little closer that’s like “this character decides they hate their current faction,” and that scene might be ten fics away, but right now you’re writing fic #1 and decide while writing this character have an argument with their commanding officer that the officer should slap them, and that plants the first seed for their decision to switch sides. How do you get from the slap to switching sides? You don’t know! But now you’re sorta pointed in that direction. And maybe when you’ve written enough fics and added enough dots and connected a few lines, when you get to the “this character hates their current faction” dot you realize that they’re in a position where they can run into the woods between the two enemy factions in order to cry for a while and they could run into the character you want them to marry and hey, now they can have a heart-to-heart, and this pushes them further in the direction you want—you didn’t plan it originally, but because you’ve got that Get Married goal in the distance, you know vaguely which direction to steer even if you aren’t sure which roads you’re gonna take.

It helps to have a “solid idea” of what you want to happen in a story, but tbh you don’t need a whole fleshed-out solid plotline. You only need one goal, and then you aim toward it.

[sshardassanderson]

Long Time Coming

WHO: Darius Anderson (appearances by: @serpentlopez, Bruce Anderson, Aidan Matthews. Mentions of @serpentchar)

WHAT: Pissing contest

WHEN: Thursday October 10th, 6:22pm

WHERE: Whyte Wyrm

WHY: Because testosterone

WARNINGS: Bar fight? Blood, fighting, death threats

[[MORE]]

It was supposed to be a night off to relax. The double C’s were staying with friends for the time being, and Dare was gonna pick them up around seven or so. But at about the time that he was preparing to leave the Wyrm, grousing about new responsibilities in an entirely jovial manner when someone made a comment about being a house husband, was when the door to the Wyrm opened again. Dare paid little attention, too busy threatening to smack Reggie with a pool cue over the next time he was called soft. But it seemed as per usual, there was never a dull moment in Riverdale. Things up front became noisier by the minute and finally he set the cue down and went to check out the situation. Aidan was the last fucking person that he’d expected to find. Just as his defenses were lowering, the fuck knew when to rear his ugly head back into their lives.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me correctly. Here—“ Aidan was saying to Viktor.

“Dude I don’t want your fucking money. Get the hell out or I’ll throw your—“

“—I AM HERE TO SPEAK WITH DAR - I - US AN- DER - SON.” Aidan shouted above the Serpent, enunciating every syllable like he were speaking to someone hard of hearing.

“Motherfucker I told you—“

“Vik, I’ve got it.” Dare set his beer bottle on the bar counter and waved off the bodyguard. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, dude. Vik’s right. Get the fuck out.”

If at all possible, Aidan’s figure seemed to become more visibly demented since the last he’d seen him face to face. His eyes were more hollowed out than what Dare remembered, and the feigned smile didn’t touch his eyes. It was almost enough of a change to be unsettling, but since moving in with Charlie, he’d long surpassed the feeling of being inferior in some way. He’d never actually be inferior to Aidan anyway. But what was most disconcerting was the absolute gall of this psychotic northsider strolling into the Serpents hideout like he could buy the place out from under them. As if he already owned it. Aidan’s hands laid slack at his side as he continued to smile creepily at Dare.

“Darius. There you are. I thought you might be in this...building. I’ve come to talk about Charlotte.”

“‘Not her name.”

“It will be the name she goes by once we are living together. I’ve come to offer you one final chance to save your life.” Several heads in the room turned in their direction. Dare crossed his arms over his chest, quirking a brow curiously as if he didn’t already anticipate where this was going. “Leave Charlotte’s home. Retract your cronies. And if you don’t, I’ll be forced to—“

“—I’m gonna stop you right there.” Dare held up a hand, ignoring the flash of red in Aidan’s eyes at being interrupted. “Charlie’s not yours. Never was. Never will be. You can’t scare her into dating you. And you can’t buy her love. No matter how much money you throw at her, she’s not for fucking sake. So take all your shit, and skedaddle the fuck out of my bar.”

Dare returned to a barstool and shook his beer bottle, realizing with a twinge of annoyance that it was empty. He raised a hand to signal that he wanted another, Aidan now yelling at him from across the room.

“YOU DON’T GET TO TURN YOUR BACK ON ME! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?! WHAT I CAN DO TO YOU?! I KNOW YOUR WEAKNESSES, STREET RAT AND I WILL DROWN YOU IN THE SEWERS AND STUFF YOUR ROTTING CORPSE DOWN INTO THE — don’t you DARE touch me you filthy Snake!” Viktor began to shove Aidan out the door, Dare rolling his eyes and taking a swig from his new beer. “Listen to me! YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME! ANDERSON!”

“Let’s go you crazy fuck!”

“ANDERSON!”

“Fuck-! LOOK OUT!”

Right before Dare could even turn to see the problem, pain exploded across the side of his face and he instinctively launched himself back away from it and onto the floor, covering his eye with a shout of ‘MOTHERFUCKER!’ as he could feel warm, sticky blood oozing in small droplets between his fingers. Trying to shake off the haze of pain, Dare could see the broken bottle handle on the ground, several of the Serpents wrestling Aidan back as he held a smug smile on his face. A hand was on his arm, helping him up, another pressing a towel to his face but he brushed all of them off.

“You’re not invincible! You’re just as human as anyone else and if you think that you will stand between what is rightfully MINE—“

“Hey hey, get off him.” Dare interrupted, picking a piece of glass away from his eye as he approached the restrained Northsider.

“D—“

“I said get off him!”

Not one to question the son of their leader, the Serpents that’d been restraining the out of his mind northsider released him. Aidan straightened out his expensive looking coat, as if he could actually see the stains and dirt from the Serpents from where he’d been grabbed. Dare approached, blood rolling down his jaw and along his neck, seeping into the white collar of his t-shirt beneath the serpent jacket. He slowly shrugged his shoulders out of it as Aidan adjusted diamond encrusted cuff links. The room had gone oddly quiet as all attention fell upon the mismatched pair in the center of the room.

Aidan’s smug smile was still plastered across his face. “How will Charlotte even look at you now? You are nothing compared to me. Learn your place, Snake.” He watched as Dare handed his jacket off to someone else, continuing his tirade. “You think you know her best but you don’t. You have no god damn idea the things that I’ve seen. The things I can do for her. I make her colorful, Snake. I’ve made her colorful for hundreds of different lifetimes, and all you’ve ever done is make her gray. Her world is gray with you in it. And you have the gall to tell me to stay away? You are not worth her time, you are not— fuck!”

Before the nonsensical evil villain monologue could go on a second longer, Dare interrupted with a headbutt so hard it actually made the corners of his vision white out for a brief moment. But just as quickly he moved forward, catching Aidan around the throat and slamming him down into a wooden table with enough force to make it splinter and break beneath the body of the NorthSider. Aidan pushed himself up from the broken wood with a scowl, wrenching off his jacket and throwing it aside (whereupon the diamond cuff links were removed almost immediately). Aidan raised his arms, curling his fingers into fists and taking a swing that Dare blocked with ease. When his fist came out a second time, he grabbed the knuckles and forced Aidan back onto the floor. The rich boy got back up with a scream of frustration, propelling himself at Dare until they went careening across the room and slammed into a door, Dare repeatedly driving his elbow into Aidan’s back until he came free again. They split apart, Dare pushing sweaty curls out of his face. Aidan wouldn’t stop. He’d...never stop. And Charlie and the kids would never be safe from him. Not until—

Aidan lunged at him again, and this time when the pair of them went crashing to the floor, hardly anything discernible could be followed, save for the swinging of fists as they rolled across the floor. Dare forced Aidan down onto his back and punched him across the face, raising his fist back and clobbering Aidan in the jaw. Back again, and again, and again, unable to stop himself as screamed like a banshee and drove his fist in every where he could. “YOU WANNA SEE COLORS SO FUCKING BAD?! HOW ABOUT RED?!” Aidan scrambled to throw him off, to no avail, and took a swing at Dare’s face that left the rich boy with splitting knuckles.

“SHE HAS NEVER LOVED YOU!”

Aidan blocked his fist and reared up his knee to catch Dare between his legs, forcing him over with a grunt of pain as Aidan crawled out from beneath him and lunges for the glass bottle again that he’d discarded when he was tackled. Dare returned to his feet and bodily slammed him into a wall before Aidan could get to it, ramming his forearm up against Aidan’s throat and pinning him there. Aidan struggled, eyes alight with fury, rage, and maybe an underlining of panic as Dare crushed his forearm into his windpipe.

“You think you can just throw your fucking money at whatever you want and that makes it yours, don’t you? You are fucking sick.” He dug his forearm in harder and seized Aidan’s hair with his free hand, restraining him completely as he spoke with a venom he didn’t realize he’d been capable of. “Charlie will never love you. Not if I’m dead. Not if you’re dead. Never. Do you understand me? You need to pack your crazy ass up and get the absolute fuck out of my town. Or—“ He could see Aidan’s face reddening with the lack of oxygen. “I think you’re a lot more trouble than you’re worth. I’ll kill you here in front of everyone—“

“Dare, stop.”

“Shut up.” Dare snapped at whoever had approached with a hand on his shoulder as if it could stop him. Aidan was deepening in color with each passing second as he thrashed beneath the pressure of Dare’s muscular forearm. “You’ve put your hands on her more than enough times, and I—“

The door to the Wyrm opened with a tremendous BANG and in rushed Bruce, followed by two other elders.

“Darius what the fuck are you doing?! Stop!”

“NO!”

“Get him the hell off!”

Dare tried to finish it, to put enough pressure to snap Aidan’s neck, but there were multiple pairs of arms grabbing him and with enough force, they managed to wrench him free as Aidan collapsed on the ground in a heap, coughing and rubbing at his throat. The elders moved to help Aidan up as Bruce surveyed the damage to the bar, his son, and finally the rich boy that slowly gained his color back. Dare huffed and grunted, throwing himself forward to try and lunge at Aidan again as he was assisted to his feet.

“Let me go, dammit! I SAID LET ME THE FUCK GO!”

“CALM DOWN, BOY!” Bruce snapped, turning to the other elders. “Get him out of here for fucks sake.”

“IF YOU EVER FUCKING COME NEAR MY WOMAN AGAIN I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Dare roared as Aidan was finally ushered out of the Wyrm. “YOU HEAR ME, MATTHEWS? I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

He hadn’t realized Eliana had been in the bar this entire time until he caught her out of the corner of his eye, looking at him like she could willingly calm him down with nothing more than a glance. But Dare was still trying to fight against the Serpents restraining him and it wasn’t until Bruce got no more than a step or two away from his face was he finally released, eye to eye with his surprisingly sober father.

“You want to tell me what the fuck all that was about?”

“None of your fucking business, old man.” Dare growled, fixing his shirt.

“You start a bar fight with a god damn Matthews in front of everyone and you think that I’m just gonna let this go? What the fuck was that about? Danny’s girl?”

Dare finally fell silent, looking away from his father as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Why the fuck are you getting all worked up over Danny’s girl? Huh?” Bruce stepped a bit closer now, grabbing Dare at the jaw and forcing him to look up. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy. Answer me. What’s going on?”

“I said mind your fucking business!” Dare snapped, slapping his father’s arm away from his face. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Boy I’ve had enough of your mouth. Maybe you forgot just who it is you’re talking to. Let me remind you.”

Bruce’s fist came up out of the corner of Dare’s eye, and without even thinking about what the hell he was going to start, he boldly grabbed his father’s fist with an open hand, stopping it mid-punch. Bruce’s eyes widened in surprise, though the surprise quickly became superseded by rage as Dare then forced his father onto the floor, on his knees, and forcibly shoved his arm away again.

“I said don’t fucking touch me, old man. Do I make myself clear?”

The silence in the room was deafening. Even Dare could hardly make out anything other than his own pulse rushing in his ears, and the weight of his presence towering over his father, the Serpent leader, in the middle of this room surrounded by elders and all other Serpents in between young, new, and old. Eliana reappeared after what felt like tens of hundreds of minutes passed with nothing more than Bruce and Dare glaring daggers at each other. He was speaking to him for sure, trying to calm him down, reminding him that he needed to think about his actions, something to soothe the situation. Charlie’s name broke through the wall of rage that surrounded him and he finally took a breath and his stance visibly relaxed. An elder started to try and reach to assist Bruce up, but just one glance at the expression on his face had him backing up. Eliana’s hand on Dare’s chest and the reminder to think for her sake is the only thing that stopped him from taking an actual swing at his old man.

“You get one, kid. For now.” Bruce’s cold voice shattered the air in the room and every noticeable young serpent cowered some. “I don’t want to see your face at home if you have any hope of living.”

“You don’t fucking scare me.” Dare glowered, but didn’t move.

“Only imbeciles aren’t afraid, Darius.” Bruce started down the stairs with the other elders following, and eventually someone started up some music in the bar once again.

As things slowly came to life in the Wyrm, the weight of the situation struck him all at once, and it was like all his energy had been sapped from his bones. He went to the bar and took a seat by his previously discarded beer, moodily sipping from it as he glanced out the corner of his eye at the basement cellar door.

Bruce would never get another hit on him again.