#he’s been acting like he has one foot in the grave and he hasn’t even approached a mid-life!

[mxtxfanatic]

Chu Wanning calls himself “old” so often and early in the narrative, and with the fact that he’s also entitled an “immortal,” you just assume he’s at some age past the average human lifespan. Which is fair enough, fine really. But then you find out his actual age at the start of the story and he’s… 26.

[ceilidho]

exit, no entry wound joe bear graves x reader; part 1 (3.8k)

-

Local time at destination: 0500 hours.

And then the world rushes back to him like the culmination of a terrible dream.

Bear wakes up in another rosebush outside the front steps of the local library worse for wear. Blinking out of sleep-crusted eyes, shapes diverging in blurry unfocus before slipping back into material objects. A bench. A door. The thorny stems of roses already on their way out, already depetalling, the ground below covered in a thin layer of them. One petal even sticking to his cheek when he pulls himself off the ground, wincing at the branches that crunch around him, that tug against his skin and clothes.

His clothes smell of cheap liquor. Gin. Bourbon. It hurts to open his eyes, to sit up. 

“Morning, sunshine,” someone says. He remembers hearing it in his dream too. 

He looks to the source of his awakening, blanching when he notices the man staring at him.

Rip sits on the other side of the bushes on his haunches, looking deeply unimpressed. Hair slicked back for a change. “This what you get up to when I’m gone?”

Bear doesn’t respond. He struggles to his feet instead, hangover only just creeping in. Still drunk, to an extent. His knees threaten to buckle under him, forcing him to lay a hand flat on the wall to keep himself upright. One foot in front of the other. The walk home feels endless in the hour before dawn, hardly any light to guide him. 

“Pretty pathetic shit, Bear,” the man says, trailing along behind him. Not quite mockingly, but bordering on it. “Getting piss drunk and passing out in a bush? Really? C’mon, man. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

There’s no sense in responding, Bear knows that now. No sense in even turning around to look. One foot in front of the other. Stumbling home alone under the cloak of night, dawn just around the corner; terrified that one day he’ll have to see it—the sun coming over the mountains, over the horizon. 

It’s been less than a year. He hasn’t yet made his amends with God. Forgiveness sits outside of him. Not quite the right time to let it in. Maybe that time passed a long time ago, a small aperture that shuttered closed at the approach of his eyes. He missed it sometime between killing a boy and losing his mind.

A man cannot hold himself up on the scaffolding of the world alone. There has to be something beneath him. There is no sense in repeating the horrors of the world back to him; he’s already lived them. He’s got something of a Midas touch for death. 

The months have been long since the divorce was finalised, since Lena left for good, since Buckley died, since Rip—since it all went down. If he thinks about it for too long, it seems like a nightmare that he woke up from still mad about; a nightmare he had no choice but to drink himself into a stupor over to escape. That’s the reality of the world. 

“You know, Bear, you’re not the one that’s fuckin’ dead,” Rip spits as he follows behind, matching Bear’s stumbling gait stride for stride. “So you can stop acting like it.”

There’s a truth in Rip’s words and it leaves him feeling nauseous. There’s also a kink in his neck and a headache threatening to split his forehead open. In the belly of him, he has a truth that says that the firmament of heaven is beyond his reach. When he looks up and the sky is void of coruscating light, the meagre stars like an exit with no entry wound, it doesn’t surprise him. Of course there wouldn’t be anything there.

On a good day, his heart feels like it’s weathered a siege. 

“So she left you! It’s time to fuckin’ move on. Go to a bar—I mean, you already are, so step one done—and pick someone up. Go on Christian Mingle or something. You keep living your life like this and you’re going to wind up killing yourself. And then the fuck good that’ll do?”

It takes everything in him to not turn around and do something rash. Only the nausea keeps him from making any sudden movements. Even if he were to turn around and do something, his knees would probably buckle under him. Probably throw up the contents of his stomach. Not much in there either. It rumbles when he thinks that, clenching at the thought of food. Then it twists, the nausea returning. 

One foot in front of the other. The walk home takes twice as long, his whole body aching.

“Heard you almost quit. Wouldn’t be the worst idea you ever had. Let Buddha take over—he’s earned it. Get yourself a nice piece of land in fuckin’…Montana or something. Couple cows, maybe some chicken—you could get a dog, Christ. You look like a guy who’d have a dog. Why don’t you have a dog, actually? You would’ve told me if you didn’t like dogs, so it’s not that.”

His forehead is greasy when he touches it to rub his head. Body secreting poison in his sleep. Oily. The corners of his lips crack when he yawns. It’s not like he’s never thought about a dog, about having something to care for, another living thing in his house. 

But—

(“Bear? …I don’t think we should have a child.”)

What he wants often falls to the wayside, slides off him like a glancing blow. 

Her old, familiar shape appears at the sudden loss of a dream: one where Lena’s gaze lingers on him long enough to burn; but then it is the sun.

Bear watches dawn break. Sunday morning. In a different life, he would’ve squinted into the light of a new day and closed his eyes against it, curling into the slighter body tucked into his chest for another hour of rest. Felt the rise and fall of her chest. Woken up to a hot mouth on his cock or fingers curling in his chest hair, petal lips seeking him out. Church after that, showering off the remnants of their morning, solemn in their pews with their chests still holding the laughter of an hour previous. Light as air, as a feather. 

He won’t go to church today; hasn’t in months. Not with the guilt of missing it the week before trailing after him, each missed week compounding month after month. The cracks in his faith webbing. Splintering out like stepping on the lake when it freezes over in the winter, crunching under his boot until he holds his place. Conscious that it could break under his feet.

“I grew up with a dog,” Bear finally responds, voice hoarse. First thing he’s said since last call at the bar. 

“Yeah. Figures. What kind?”

“Black lab. We called her Daisy.”

It’s another lifetime ago. Still living in his parent’s house, Daisy curled by his dad’s feet, her favourite spot to sleep. Television playing at a low volume, mom at the kitchen table doing her crossword, ink bleeding into the side of her hand. It’s been a long time since Bear buried all of them. He’s buried countless people since. 

“What—can’t get another? One and done? That’s how everything works for you?”

Teeth raze across his skin again. Trust Rip to always cut to the quick. Finally back in his neighbourhood at least, the street empty apart from the cars parked in their driveways or along the sidewalk. Bear’s stomach rumbles something fierce now, entreating him to eat. Worse than hunger is how he’d kill for a glass of water though. Anything to settle his head.

“Haven’t wanted a dog,” Bear grumbles, then clears his throat.

“Yeah, you have,” Rip scoffs. Bear hears him kick a rock, sending it skidding across the asphalt. 

“Fuck off.”

Heart silicified in his chest, composed of fossilised shells and rocks and bones. It feels heavy in his chest. 

He turns down the street leading to his house. 

“Gotta let someone else in, Bear. Girl, dog—whatever. You can’t keep this up forever or it’ll kill you.”

When he turns around at the door, fishing in his pocket for his keys, the sidewalk beyond his house is empty. 

(So a man lies down and rises not again; till the heavens are no more he will not awake or be roused out of his sleep.)

Every Friday like clockwork, Bear stops at the diner down the street for a coffee and a slice of cherry pie before heading to the bar. 

Today is like any other. He leaves the house with only his keys and wallet and walks the long twenty minutes to the diner. Every time he fights the urge to drive, but there has to be something holding him in place. A reason not to throw it all away. 

It’s never completely empty when he shows up, but it’s never full either. His seat at the back of the room is open as usual, like they put up a sign before he comes ambling down the street that says Reserved for Joe Graves and then pluck it away before he opens the door. It’d be nice if that were the case. Nice to have something just for him for a change. The thought comes with its accompanying pang of shame. Desire is a dangerous thing; anything he’s ever wanted has come at him with sharpened teeth, clamping down on his leg and ripping through the flesh. Bear trap for old Bear. 

He slides into the booth and waits for someone to notice him. Never bothers to flag someone down—if it’s ten minutes or even half an hour before he’s served, that’s fine by him. 

“Hiya,” a clear voice says to his right, pulling him away from staring through the blinds out the window. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea?”

The face Bear turns to meet is pleasant, smiling. Wide and untroubled. It’s not a face he recognizes though, despite months coming to this diner and becoming familiar with the staff. If he had to guess, he’d bet she only started a few days ago, maybe a week at most. She still has the sparkle of someone who hasn’t had the goodness beaten out of them yet. 

“Coffee,” he says, his own smile strained. “And a slice of pie.”

“Sure—we have key lime, blueberry, apple—”

“Cherry,” he interrupts, not letting her build steam. The wick in his chest burns too low for any conversation. The quick flicker of her brow makes the shame in his chest swell again. Forgive me sitting on his lips, unsaid. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I do this. 

She nods and scurries off to the back, skirt swishing with her movements. Bear notices only because his eyes get stuck there, somewhere between the curves of her hips and the roundness of her ass. When he realizes where he’s let his mind wander, he pulls it back, flattening his lips into a hard line. Any sort of indulgence feels wrong, a taking that shouldn’t be taken. He hasn’t even begun to pay penance for all the damage he’s wrought. 

It’s only on her way back that Bear notices the small bump protruding from under her apron. His mouth goes dry. When she reaches him again, he wordlessly accepts the cup of coffee and her reassurance that the pie will be out in just a minute. For a moment, he can hardly meet her gaze, eyes locked on the gentle curve of her belly, caught off guard in a way he hasn’t been in months. 

The first thought with any clarity is, what is she doing working here? A crummy diner on a Friday night. Down the street from an even sleazier pub. His second thought is to look outside at the poorly lit stretch of road and think that this is no place for a pregnant woman to be alone. He recognizes each car in the parking lot save one, likely hers. Drove herself here with the expectation of driving herself home at the end of the night.

If it had been Lena—well, he never would’ve let it be Lena, but if it had been, Bear can’t imagine letting his pregnant wife drive herself home in the middle of the night. Can hardly stomach the thought. 

She’s not Lena though, so he has no right. 

She’s gone before he has time to say anything else, skirt swishing behind her. It catches his eye again. When he tears his gaze away for a second time, he swallows back the metallic taste of self-loathing. It curdles in his mouth. It’s the sign telling him to stop coveting, stop looking out into the world and wondering what he can take. It’s his hamartia, his fatal flaw; thinking himself above the reproach of God. Thinking that he can kill, fuck, curse, and stray farther and farther from the light only to find his way back in the dark. 

The bell above the door rings when someone else comes in and Bear tenses. His shoulders only relax when two older women step in and head to a table. 

He watches as she picks up a plate from the pass-through window and heads back towards him. When she places it in front of him, he draws a deep breath in, trying to catch more than just the aroma of fresh baked cherries. 

“Here we go…one slice of cherry pie, straight out of the oven.”

“Thanks, honey,” Bear rumbles, smile finally meeting his eyes. 

“No trouble. The guys in the back said they make it special for you. Joe, right?”

That gets him to levy her with the full weight of his attention. The thought of her asking about him. “I go by Bear.”

“Oh. Alright, Bear.” She twists the word around in her mouth and seems to find it satisfying. “I think I’ve heard your name before. You were—I mean, you’re part of Pastor Adams’ parish, right?”

He clears his throat, cutting off the triangle point of his pie with the side of his fork. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Me too,” she confides, voice a low whisper. A secret between strangers. She doesn’t glance around though, doesn’t bother to draw out the ruse. “Or, I was, anyway. Haven’t been to service in awhile. I, um…I remember you. From a year or so back. You and your—um…you and your wife used to always sit up at the front.”

The fork scrapes against the plate. “Ex-wife.”

He catches her wince from the corner of his eye. “Oh. Sorry. You just—” She doesn’t have to say it. The slight dip of her eyes tells him all he has to know, and besides, it’s his own fault for still wearing the ring. Even with the paperwork signed and dated, even with Lena in another state now, starting a new life without him, the thought of taking it off makes him break out in a cold sweat. 

“It’s not—” Bear starts before giving up. He curls his fingers into a fist on the table. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. Not a big deal.”

She fidgets in the silence. Bear can’t bring himself to break it or make the atmosphere less oppressive. He tenses under it, the ache in his low back worsening. These days, he always aches. Nerve damage, a disc on the verge of slipping, an old ankle injury that flares up whenever he goes running. A ghost that follows him from haunt to haunt. The ring on his finger is just another old ache. 

“So, uh—” he clears his throat, nodding to her belly. “Your first?” 

It’s inappropriate, hardly his place to ask. Incredibly intrusive for someone he’s met for the first time, a stranger just trying to do her job and serve him coffee and pie before he goes off to drink himself half to death again at the dive bar down the road. 

Still, he asks. 

Only the faintest wrinkle of her nose betrays any embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. First one.”

“Congratulations.” It’s sincere. The envy in his gut is old, but it’s a manageable pain. 

“Thanks,” she says, with a small, private smile, hand resting absently under her belly. “I’m excited. I’m only a couple months along, but, uh…it’s been a journey. Just me and baby against the world, you know.”

That stops him in his tracks. Screws up the whole course of his evening because suddenly the sound of the bell over the door jingling doesn’t draw his attention away. It stays fixed on the smiling girl to his right that just opened her mouth and said something unacceptable. 

“Where’s the dad?” he asks, far too bluntly. 

She shrugs. “Somewhere. Didn’t stick around long enough to tell me where. It’s fine though—I’ve got my little peanut. That’s all that matters.”

“You told him and he left?” 

The pie sits cooling in front of Bear as a pit in his stomach opens up. It’s a terrible, empty hole that holds truths like the fallibility of the body and the good shouldering the burdens of the world.  

He only regrets being so direct when her lip quivers, a little motion that betrays her until she wrests control over her face again. “It’s not his fault. I don’t think he was—well…you know, it was a surprise.”

“That’s—” he struggles to find his words, “—that’s not right.”

Again, she shrugs. “That’s life.”

Bear feels his eyes go hard. A coldness settles under his skin. 

In the deep, dark gut of him, only anger lives. He spends his days questioning why God has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart, has allowed countless other people to die, but refuses, for reasons unbeknownst to him, to kill him. He’s given him enough opportunity and enough reason. 

The answer he circles back to time and again is the same. An eye for an eye. Divine wrath. The litany of his sins could be sung until the end of time and there’d still be more to sing. It’s only right that there would be consequences for him. 

The rage that simmers in his blood now is twofold. It begins with the sharp pang of injustice, of witnessing a punishment meted out to someone innocent. The girl standing by the booth he’s shoved himself into, almost too small for a man of his size, cannot be deserving of the same punishment that he’s brought upon himself. She has never killed. The babe in her belly has never killed. The two of them should never have to meet at the point of two paths converging with the likes of someone like Bear and proceed down the same road together. 

Then it sinks into a familiar territory. A place at the core of him where righteousness gives way to envy, as it always does. After what he's been through, the thought of someone having everything that he's always desperately wanted handed to them on a silver platter and then sending it back leaves him feeling a bit off-kilter. Not quite right. 

“Bear?” Her voice breaks the silence. When he blinks, concerned eyes stare down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, dragging a hand down his face. Shaking it off. “Sorry, I—got lost in my head. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright,” she says, again gentle in her voice and smile. “Easy place to get lost in, isn’t it?”

He makes a sound in acknowledgment. Drags the silence out. Her mouth twists shy under his scrutiny. 

“Anyway, I have a few other tables to get to, if you don’t mind. Enjoy your pie. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

He eats his slice of pie in silence as she leaves, eyes following her to her next table. Rage still sizzles under his fingertips. It makes his hands shake, old nerve damage and anger problems. 

It’s like a gun punch to think of her all on her own. It’s not right. For someone like him, well, it’s—deserved, earned. Inevitable, even. Every step taking him further away from grace, from its light. No one who knows his story would think otherwise. 

She’s a pretty thing though, this new waitress. Too tired, the bags under her eyes testament to that, no matter how well she hides them with makeup. Slightly puffy anyway, maybe from a lack of sleep or too many tears. His stomach aches at the thought. It must have come as a shock, the bottom of her world dropping out from under her when the baby’s father took off. Dragged away from the church not through her own doing, but the fault of another. Not her shame to bear, and yet. 

He forces the pie down. Bites that taste like nothing, 

Bear hears the lilt of her voice from two tables over. “Refill on your coffee, hun?” 

A supplicant sits in his place as he sips his coffee. The hour slips by into the next and it starts to come together in his mind. Why he's been forced down this long road alone, why God hasn't struck him down yet despite every terrible thing he's done. His eyes follow her flit across the diner, the light seeming to bend around her like a halation. 

When Bear looks across the room at her, he thinks, Lord, do not think I am waiting patiently for your hands. Every part of me trembles with anxiety.

(O Lord, show me I can fall apart together again; but not just yet.)

He stays until the last customer has finally left, waiting for her to come back to his table with an apologetic smile. When she does, Bear hands her his empty plate, watching her take a step back when he scoots out of the booth, rising to his full height. He makes note of the way her eyes round as they follow him up. Taller than her, unsurprisingly. Surprising though, the way her bottom lip droops just the slightest bit. 

“Is it just you closing up?” he asks, voice a tad too gruff. He clears his throat again, looking around for anyone else. 

“Well, the chef’s cleaning up in the back, but, uh—” she looks around the diner, conspicuously empty apart from the two of them. “Yeah. Just me.”

Bear gestures with his chin towards the door. “I’ll wait ‘till you’re done, then walk you to your car.”

“Oh, Joe—”

“Bear,” he corrects.

“Bear,” she amends, fingers twisting together now. He relishes the sound of it on her lips. “You don’t have to. I’m used to it, honestly. I know I just started here, but I’ve done closes before, you know.”

“I’ll wait outside.” A statement now. Stubborn. He’s always been a bit mulish, hard to shake off. 

He can tell the second she relents, shoulders slumping. “Alright. I shouldn’t be too long…you can leave if you get bored though. Won’t blame you.” 

He fights the urge to tilt her head up by the chin to make her meet his eyes. Just barely restrains himself. 

Leaning against a tree out front, he twirls the ring around his finger as he watches her clean up. For the first time in a long time, he slips it off.

[ladytauria]

Trick or treat? :3

💜🧡💜 thank you fenris!!

so! this one is a snippet from my incbus!jason AU~ loosely based on a platonic batfam series (link), in which incubi feed on all emotions, but especially love/pleasure/etc. working summary:

Tim doesn’t let Jason touch him.

the basic set up is that the two of them are on an away mission, and Jason needs to feed~

it's actually almost done; i just need to clean it up / rewrite a few bits!

“You need to eat.”

“There are other food sources. Pain. Fear. Anger.” He pauses. “Lust.” Never mind how using lust to feed made him feel, or what memories it brought to the surface. It would sate him until one of the others was available.

Tim’s lips thin. “Because submerging yourself in those isn't going to mess up your head."

Jason sets his jaw. “I can control it.” He wants to be angry, offended, at the mere idea that Tim doesn’t trust him—but those emotions wither at the sight of the scar on his throat.

Tim huffs, waving a hand dismissively. "I know you can." Both tone and gesture act as if the opposite is ludicrous. "I’m not worried about your control, Jason. I don’t want you to—put yourself through something you don’t have to.”

There’s a part of Jason that melts at that. “You shouldn’t either,” he says, softer than he means to.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re forcing yourself to do this, but—”

“I’m not,” Tim denies again, more forcefully. “There would be no point. You’d know as soon as you touched me.”

That—is true.

When an incubus opened a bond, there was no hiding from them. Every emotion was on display, and though they could be dulled, suppressed, they couldn’t be fully hidden. Not even Bruce, with all his training and shields, could hide from Jason when he was feeding from him.

If Tim truly didn’t want Jason touching him, Jason would know as soon as the bond opened.

Jason still argues. “Don’t. Don’t make yourself do this, Tim. Not for me.”

Not after what he did.

Jason could still hear him screaming in his nightmares. Could smell his blood, feel it on his fingers. The worst of it was the acrid flavor of his fear and pain; the way the insecurities and doubt had swelled under his thrall. Tim had defied him, determination humming in his blood all the way to the end. Jason had crossed a line Tim never could—and he would bear that sin to his second grave, and possibly beyond.

Getting to know him just made it worse. Tim was funny, and kind, with clever fingers and fine-boned hands. He never shied away from Jason’s death jokes. He liked a good explosion almost as much as Jason, and after a fight, when he was pink cheeked and wild haired, he had a triumphant smile that made Jason want to kiss the rest of the breath from him—

—and he couldn’t.

Because he shot himself in the foot before he even knew he wanted to walk.

And now Tim sat here, across from him, and asked him to feed from him like Jason hadn't once twisted his deepest insecurities and doubts against him.

“Jason… I’m not making myself do anything.” Tim’s face softens. “It’s okay. You’re not the person who hurt me anymore. You’ve changed.”

He has. He knows he has. He’s worked hard at it, ever since he woke up one day and realized he'd become something, someone, he'd never wanted to. And somehow, that had ended with him being back in the bats' good graces again. Mostly.

He will never follow Bruce’s rule. He will never stop believing that sometimes, people need to die, and if he ever gets the chance, he’ll put a bullet through Joker’s head without hesitation or second thoughts. But he’s done trying to force Bruce’s hand, and Bruce is done trying to change him. They still fight over Jason’s choices, sometimes, but ultimately; Bruce has learned to live with it. Has said he trusts Jason—has let Jason feel it.

But just because he’s changed doesn’t mean the damage hasn’t been done. They’re never going to be close again. He’s never going to be able to lean on him, like he once did, and he’s never going to trust him fully, to keep him safe.

“It still happened.” Jason can never fully trust Bruce. Tim can never fully trust Jason. Actions have consequences.

“It did. But I’ve forgiven you, Jason.”

Jason wants to believe it. He does. But Tim is a liar, and a good one. He’s seen him lie right to Batman’s face without so much as flinching—and watched Bruce believe him. He still believes him. Hell. If Jason hadn’t known the truth, he probably would have believed him too.

Tim smiles at him, then, small and self-deprecating, and Jason itches to smooth it away. “The Tower has nothing to do with why I haven’t offered to feed you before. It’s—” He shakes his head. “You might be the one who never wants to touch me again, if anything.”

Jason very much doubts that. To say so out loud, though, would reveal how very badly he does want to touch Tim, and he can’t have that. “Tim…”

“Jason.” Tim meets his gaze. He’s not fiddling with his shirt sleeve anymore. His hands are still. His shoulders are back. His jaw is set. He isn’t going to budge, Jason realizes. Even if Jason convinces him to give it up tonight—which is looking less and less likely—he’ll be back again tomorrow. And the day after. Until Jason gives in, or they go home. Hell, he might keep it up at home, too. Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

“Fine,” Jason says shortly. He’s smart enough to realize when the only way out is through. He plops down in his chair, so close to Tim their knees are almost touching. “Give me your hand.”

[itsdeathofabachelor]

Remember the post I made about Jotaro being the same level of fucked up as Kakyoin but in different ways? I think I need to give examples because I have a very distinct thing in my brain I need all of you people to grasp to some extent here.

Jotaro is fucking huge. Ginormous for no reason considering he very likely hadn’t had the time to work out in between beating the shit out of local gang members, dashing and dining, and being a bitch to his mother. But because he hasn’t really been in a setting with a bunch of people with similar physiques as him, he has no idea how to act outside of being ‘cool’. Like, he sees no point in flaunting how he looks so he doesn’t, unlike with someone who, say, worked at their body image for months.

So I am being dead serious when I say Holly didn’t make him a school lunch one time (she had such a bad flu bug she couldn’t get out of bed) Jotaro skips all of his classes, entire day ruined. He goes out to the convenience store, red faced, puffy eyed, and shoves a packet of donuts down his shirt. No one even fucking notices. He eats all of them and cries, it’s so fucking funny.

I should probably mention, Kakyoin is one hundred percent the only one who Jotaro could give less of a shit seeing him do this. So he’s there, gingerly explaining the breeding cycles of salmon and trout in hopes of engaging Jotaro’s autism enough so he doesn’t choke and fucking die around the three donuts he shoved in his mouth.

So, six foot five, bulging muscles, could pop a can of tomatoes open if he put it in between his thighs and squeezed slightly, having a breakdown under a tree somewhere in a national park, defeated. A red haired, twitchy twunk drawing with a stick in the ground saying some shit like, ‘you can tell it’s a type of mammal because of its fin bones, even if it’s exclusively in the water now— please slow down Jojo I really don’t want you to throw up again’.

No, like, he’s a mess all the time but would rather die than be around literally anyone when he has that ‘calm before the storm’ meltdown feeling. So he just sort of shows up at Kakyoin’s doorstep like a stray and lays on his bedroom floor for three hours. Sometimes he falls asleep and Kakyoin uses him as a backrest because he always chooses to be face first directly in front of his Atari and Kakyoin wants to play his games.

Kakyoin’s mother one hundred percent thinks Jotaro is some dangerous delinquent who is going to put her son into a grave, life or death peer pressure situation until she sees Jotaro being dragged out of the house by his ankles with an out of breath Kakyoin carting both their bags under one arm, Jotaro’s coat over one shoulder, and Jotaro’s foot in both his hands. Like, ‘We have a math test. I need good grades. I am not explaining to Miss Holly why you have to retake highschool’.

And Jotaro’s completely limp, like three hundred fucking pounds of pure muscle, wearing a tank top, face down with his hat brim dragging on the floor. He looks fucking dead. He looks like a dead fucking rat. And Kakyoin’s mother no longer has nearly as many worries about Jotaro but also is forever cursed with the knowledge that, even if she were to gossip to her book club about it, they would never believe her.

Also, she’s seen Jotaro cry three separate times on the kitchen floor as Kakyoin makes his grilled cheese in the shapes of dolphins because his favourite cereal changed their packaging or Sadao calls and he’s just losing it in a puddle of tears. He never mentions it again and literally goes back to normal like nothing had happened.

He could beat the shit out of a whole biker gang, spear and set their leader on fire, all stoic and angry and totally badass. Everything falls into place with perfectly timed catchphrases and comebacks, but he’ll still be at Kakyoin’s house, twenty minutes later, face down infront of his Atari. And Kakyoin will use him as a back rest to play his games.

[hollenka99]

October Fic Recs

Multi-Chapter Fics

Wasting Your Time by shutupanakin - T, 20k, ongoing

Planning to use a late night train to end his life, Tommy meets Wilbur who challenges him to stay alive for one more week. They meet again and again on the same train at the same time each week for a routine trip where they catch up. But Wilbur seems awfully guarded about his own life for someone who is so eager to get Tommy to open up to his loved ones. Obvious warnings for suicide. I could tell that something was up with Wilbur and it felt great to learn I was right, though how right hasn’t been revealed yet. The foreshadowing is great and as a story about a friendship formed from trying to remind a stranger why life can be worth living, it’s quite sweet. Also shout out to Jack with his pins and late closing hours.

thus always by emmellohi - T, 21k, ongoing

When the Antarctic Empire conquers Newfoundland, Wilbur resents them for the propaganda he is made to write as a journalist. Out of spite, he creates an underground publication where he can combat the lies and help others navigate their new way of living. When I got to the end of chapter 1, I just sat there thinking “Oh, when they get Wikipedia or an equivalent, this moment is definitely going to get a few sentences on the pages about the rebellion and their respective lives”. It has a lot of promise and absolutely deserves way more hits than its current low count. Warnings for themes of oppression and abuse of power.

One Big Human Heart (Gently Beeping) by grasstastic - T, 22k, ongoing

Wilbur discovers Stick Boy, the main character of an arcade game from work, has more to him than it first appears. The more he gets to know Tommy, the more he learns about the sinister truth about why he acts so alive. Warnings for body horror and kidnapping. Tommy’s habit of shocking disrespectful players is great and I love his past with Techno. This fic is also to blame for me listening to Cabinet Man and Redesign Your Logo exclusively for over a week in August.

One Foot in the Grave by Raisans_Grapeon - T, 17k, completed

A trip to get Tommy a music disc for his birthday goes disastrously wrong for Techno and Wilbur, the consequences of which are devastating for the family. It also leads to new information coming to light. Warnings for major character injury, (temporary) death and grief. The part with Phil trying to get Techno to listen to him while Techno insists on giving Wilbur the potions still destroys me. The same with Wilbur trying to work out what happened to him.

Two Villages and a City Away From Salvation by Anonymous - NR, 46k, ongoing

SBI are 18th century farmers who suffer a terrible harvest year. However, as winter rolls around, a poor harvest is arguably the least they have to worry about with the looming presence of soldiers in their village. Warnings for character death and themes of oppression. A couple moments that stick in my mind are the argument about Henry and Techno finding Tubbo in bed.

One Shots

amethyst and flowers on the table (is it real or is it fable?) by bonesandthebees - T, 10k

Tommy is not loved by the locals but he still helps them out if it means he gets food in his stomach. He meets a faerie upon accidentally stumbling across a clearing. The two of them soon become friends with Tommy visiting Faebur pretty much everyday. Both this and its inspiration (wildflower by sailingthenightsea) are quite enjoyable and I really liked how their spins on fae myths. Warnings for mistreatment of a child and violence.

is this what being vulnerable feels like? by call_me_steve - M, 10k

While running from Punz and the others hunting them down at Schlatt’s command following their election loss, Wilbur takes an arrow for Tommy. It hits him in the neck and even when they get him stable, he still requires treatment Tommy can’t handle on his own. I liked how Wilbur kept going back to the fact he has something in his neck because that would certainly be difficult to ignore. I loved Phil’s attempts to comfort him through the whole procedure too. Warnings for major character injury, blood and (temporary) character death.

Look Alive, Sunshine by hallmarked_error - T, 20k

A Fabulous Killjoys au that you don’t need to know anything about the source material to enjoy, given that I have never listened to the album or seen the comics before. Tommy is taken in by the other members of SBI after being found half dead in the desert. He becomes an honorary killjoy but his past in Battery City causes conflict as he struggles to leave those ideals and experiences completely behind him. Warnings for major character injury and dystopian authorities.

not great, not terrible by Zylina  - T, 8k

SBI Rust fic where Wilbur and Tommy run low on supplies and it is Wilbur who risks his health to try get them some more. This does not have great consequences for either of them. Warnings for radiation poisoning and self sacrificial tendencies. The part with Wilbur in the trolley and their different interpretations of Tommy’s laughter, my beloved. I also loved the detail about 99.9 rads.

You Wonder What Happened by Cheeto_the_Cat - G, 2k

A story about a newcomer attempting to learn about the true Wilbur Soot from the locals they bump into. I enjoyed the exploration of everyone’s perspective of Wilbur and how the person whose pov this is would react to the conflicting accounts. I should have seen the ending coming but only caught on right before it was laid out explicitly. 

[shini--chan]

Hello there, I honestly love the way you write everyone (especially yandere Prussia) I was wondering what if the reader really underestimated Prussia and Veneziano? As if thinking of them as a weak and a careless nation? Trying to fight and degrade them? Please write about it IF you can love 💕 Take care!

All I can say is: Thank you for sending in this neat ask.

Yandere Hetalia – Obfuscation

Italy

“I don’t think you understand. Your word against mine isn’t enough for black mail”, you voiced your doubts. Reasonable doubts, for somebody so young. A young being that understood as well as knew so little of the workings of the world. He could forgive you for that. Ignorance wasn’t a sin, rather a liability. One that would cost you so much.

Feli chuckled softly and wore a smile to match, as sweet as the cantuccini that he had just been dipping into the bitter rose wine he had ordered. Taking a bite from the alcohol soaked treat, he relished in the bittersweet taste that unfolded. In a way, it mirrored the situation.

“Oh bella. When it hasn’t been sword against sword it has always been word against word. My word is more than enough”, he quipped good naturedly, drumming his fingers against the wooden surface. Your brows furrowed, your features distorting into an expression of incomprehension. Really, it nearly caused him to laugh. However, unlike you, he possessed a decent amount of tact.

Shaking your head, you insisted: “Doesn’t matter how you honey up your words. If it’s your word against mine that’s not enough for decent blackmail. You need evidence.”

You were wise enough to keep your voice down. While you both were in a restaurant on his turf, speaking quietly in quick English, one couldn’t be too careful. Feli knew well enough on how his people loved to gossip and on how reputation mattered so much more than in the Anglosphere. On the other hand, you couldn’t lash out against him without being looked down upon in the aftermath.

“No, I just need to be more convincing than you”, he retaliated. When you shook your head again in denial, he couldn’t help but sigh. Of course, he was holding a Damocles sword over your head, and you just were so unwilling to comprehend. Maybe he would have to make true on some of his threats, just to get a point across. After all, a burnt child dreads the fire.

 Italy would be used to people underestimating him. After all, he wouldn’t be much of a soldier, preferring diplomacy over warfare. Everybody has simply forgotten that he once held all the strings. Not that he could blame them; he was very discreet about in the past, always operating from the shadows.

In a way, your behaviour would both infuriate and delight him. Infuriate, because your lack of insight would be cringe-worthy in his eyes and would ask himself how somebody could be so blind. Delight, because that would give him the opportunity to dig a ditch to trap you in without you suspecting a single thing.

He would get it. He wouldn’t come across as having a spin of steel or of having the ambitions that would lead him to cultivating diplomatic expertise. Feli would be quick to spill tears, whether out of genuine emotion or as part of an act, and that is usually seen as a staple for weakness. You would probably underestimate him to such an extreme extent that he could tell you the raw truth and you wouldn’t believe.

Despite any misgivings he would have, he wouldn’t hesitate to back in a corner if you wouldn’t behave – as in slandering your name, using his contacts to have you demoted, rejected, pushed aside, cancelled and so on. He would be your only solace, the only person in the world that could help you. Feliciano would offer your protection and a way to re-establish yourself in society. It would all depend on how much you would love him.

 Prussia

Gilbert turned around the corner to find you fiddling with the door, or better said the lock of the door. You were sticking hair pins in it, twisting the upper one this way and that, muttering furiously. The curses that were flying from your mouth were of the grave sort that would make even a potty-mouthed, seasoned-soldier blush. Which Gilbert was.

Taking a few steps forward, he then cleared his throat noisily, making you abruptly turn around. Your eyes were wide blown, like a deer that had decided the best method to deal with the approaching head lights would be to stare them down. However you promptly wiped the sheepish look of your face and straightened your back.

“What are you doing?”, he asked, making sure you make his words sharp. The answer lay at hand but the whole point was to make you feel guilty about what you were doing. Besides that, an entrée was needed.

“I am leaving”,  you announced defiantly, a smug grin on your face.

“Not on my watch.”

“Then just look away”, you countered snidely, the most unbearable expression on your visage as you drew out the syllables. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nearly flinched. Obviously, he had rubbed off on you a bit and in this case it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Because of that, he sneered: “Don’t be unbearable. You’re staying, the end.”

“Well, if I am so unbearable, isn’t it high time for me to leave?”

Gilbert rolled his eyes at your antics. Enough was enough and a good talking to about your actions wouldn’t do. Therefor he told you: “Yes, high time to leave your foolish plans and get a proper spanking.”

He stepped forward to grab you, but you danced out of his reach, fists raised in front of your face in a familiar stance. A boxing stance, one that he used often. Shame really, and here he had thought you had been admiring his gorgeous physique whenever you had watched him train.

“I’ll fight you”, you hissed. This caused him to smile, tauntingly.

“Oh really?”

Your answer was to punch forward, aiming for his nose. Unlucky for you, he stepped aside, causing you to overreach and lose your balance. You face-planted the floor in one of the most ungraceful manners he had ever observed. Before you could stand up, he placed a foot on your nape – just enough that it was uncomfortable, but not enough to throttle you.

If anything, Gilbert would find your attempts amusing. He has lived through countless wars, went from sword to musket to gun, fought on nearly every terrain imaginable. And you would seriously think you could stand a chance against him? The only way you would be able to have the upper hand against him, would be if you would catch him off guard when he’d be ill, and that wouldn’t happen.

Your attempts to fight him would give him great fodder to ridicule you. He simply wouldn’t cease reminding you how clumsy you would be. Gilbert would comment that you probably watched far to many Hollywood films to think you could earnestly beat him up. Joke would be on you. Also, he would use it as an excuse to give you a few bruises, self-defence and all.

[sabraeal]

Climb to the Rooftops

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle; a birthday fic that is COMING OUT ON TIME would you look at that (though I am definitely doing some fancy footwork to make it work out in both time zones 😂 Yixin asked for the Post-Rescue Tanbarun Tree Scene for WFB, and then I said, I could give you that, but what if I told you about a secret scene instead...

And then Yixin told me to write whichever one was Obi POV

He knows her.

That’s what keeps running through his head’s hamster wheel as he clomps up the student center steps. He knows her; he’s always known her. If he reached out on that park bench, if he’d grabbed her with both hands and just said, don’t leave me--

He would have been laid flat on his ass, courtesy of that mean right hook her dad taught her before he bounced. And there’d be another demerit on his record to boot, one more instance of anti-social behavior to make him even more unadoptable than he already was. Doc was always destined to go to a loving home, complete with cozy hideaways and towers of books, with warm firesides and even warmer grandparents, and he...

Well, he wasn’t meant for anything like that, no matter who he clung to. Sometimes shit just happens, and no wishing on stars thirteen years gone can change that.

It’s good to see her though. He’d always wondered what happened to his muppet girl, whether she’d gone off and had her happy ending just like she said she would. And now he knows she did.

He glances down at the peanut butter canister in his hand. Well, at least for a little while. That’s the thing about happy endings; they don’t really stick.

Obi hesitates, one foot poised over a step up, his hand wrapped around a ruddy safety rail. “Um, Doc.”

It takes her three steps to bounce to a stop, just enough to let her look down instead of up or across. He’s got double vision for a moment: Doc in the here and now looking at him with so much hope and anxiety that he’s half-afraid she’ll shake apart like a Hot Wheel in a blender; superimposed over the little girl in his memory, round face beaming up at him and her worries far behind her.

She’s got more freckles now, though most of them are hidden beneath her coat, fading without the direct application of summer sun. More inches too, though not as many as he’d given her in his head; for once he’d given more benefit of the doubt than nature could provide. And her hair-- well, that’s the same. Red. Fluffy. Muppety, too, if it’s the morning.

“Obi?”

He should really be paying attention to this conversation he fucking started, instead of just staring at her like a creep. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh.” She goes rosy under the freckles he can see, shifting the urn from her hands to her elbow. “I’m-- I’m fine. I’m glad that we could find--” one arm juts out, trying to encompass both them and the containers-- “everyone.”

“Yeah, I got you, but I meant...” He angles a pointed look over her shoulder. “Why are we going up?”

Doc’s jaw drops, and he sees it, the way panic crests right behind her eyes.

“Not that I’m suggesting we don’t.” He takes the next step slow, just enough to put them on equal standing. Except it doesn’t, it puts him a little above her; the beginning of really looking down. His heart flutters in the exact way it shouldn’t when he’s carrying human remains. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to carry geriatrics up a few flights, the elevator’s better for their hips.”

He expects her to laugh at that one, or maybe even roll her eyes, but instead Doc breaks out into a full-body Chihuahua tremble.

“Obi.” Her eyes are so big in her face they might swallow him whole. “We can’t take the elevator.”

“We...can’t?”

Her head jerks in the scarcest side-to-side. With one long, steeling breath, she informs him, “We’re going to do something a little illegal.”

His brows raise. “Illegal?”

The urn bobbles treacherously as her hands fly up between them. “Only a little!”

“You cashed in your favor with me,” he repeats slowly, savoring the thrill that zips through him with every syllable. “To do something illegal.”

Doc deflates with all the gravitas of a popped kiddie pool. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that would be okay. Especially with, um...”

She’s far too polite to say, your presumed preexisting criminal record, Doc just hasn’t realized it yet. Not when she doesn’t know for sure whether it does exist or not. It’d be easy to help her along, but it’s kinda satisfying to watch her flounder, fishing for the pieces of him she does know.

“If it’s a problem,” she says finally, lifting her eyes to his. “You don’t have to--”

“The only problem is how hot that is, Doc.” He wraps a hand around the rail beside her, leaning in close enough that her eyes nearly cross watching him. “Are you gonna get into your old field hockey kit and punch a girl up there too?”

She blinks, heels clunking into the concrete rise. “I don’t think it would fit. The skirt would be too short, at least.”

Are you sure, he wants to say, stretching every last inch over her, but instead he rumbles, “Honey, you’re saying all the right things to me--”

“Hey.” A finger presses into his nose, hauling his words up short like a pileup. “No call list.”

“Ahh.” Her mouth twitches as he pulls back, rubbing at his nose. “Haah. You know I hate that.”

“Then stick to the list,” she informs him pleasantly. “Besides, are you really trying to flirt with a girl in front of her grandpa?”

“Well.” He holds up the tin, giving it an experimental shake. “You think they’d mind?”

There’s a quality to the silence in the stairwell that clues him in to the fact that he’s cocked up real good this time. First with the tomb joke, now asking if grandma might be watching from beyond the grave, objecting to his game. At least he knows he never had a chance; otherwise he’d have to go take his hopes out behind the woodshed--

“No,” she hums, confident. “They’d like you.”

It’s a good thing she doesn’t get it in her head to try the nose trick again; it’d push him right over. He can survive a lot, but four flights is pushing it. “Doc,” he huffs, scratching the bristle at the back of his head, “I don’t think--”

“Well...” She’s thoughtful when she puts her back to him, bouncing up the next couple of stairs. “Opa would. Oma would think you needed to be fattened up.”

He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds busted up, wings broken. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

“Ugh,” Doc sighs from one landing up. “She’d love that you said that.”

“That just makes her even more--”

“Don’t.”

RESTRICTED ACCESS, the doors says, bright red letters fading against the plastic sign. ALARM WILL SOUND.

Doc’s been bullish these last few flights, pushing a pace that makes him want to remind her he’s a hitter, not a runner, but now--

Now she shuffles on the stairs, daunted. “Do you think it will really...?”

Obi thinks this might be a private university, funded by mommy and daddy’s pockets to keep their babies safe, but alarms go off all the time. Unless this building has a rent-a-cop watching daytime TV down in the atrium right now, it could take hours for someone to answer the call, especially mid-afternoon on a Saturday.

“Who knows.” He’s not sure what she’s got up her sleeve that involves two dead people and a rooftop-- especially when even Doc is quick to admit it’s got at least a toe on the wrong side of legal-- but it probably won’t look good if they’re interrupted, even by the Diet Coke of the law enforcement vending machine. “Maybe you should plan to keep the fancy speeches to a minimum.”

“Eulogies.” Her thin fingers flex over ceramic, white where they press in. “You mean a eulogy.”

“Gesundheit.”

Doc turns her head, real slow, letting him soak in every drop of her disapproval. Well, that’s one pigtail successfully pulled.

With a breath so deep it makes her pea coat really earn the name, Doc nods. “Right. Okay. I think...”

Obi expects some dithering, some real soul-searching doubts being dragged out for airing right here in the stairwell. Doc likes that sort of thing, taking everything out of her head so she can fold it all up real nice again, but instead--

Instead she barrels across the landing, plowing right through the metal door, a whole stretch of gray winter sky stretching out before her. There’s one blink, two, and then-- well, the sign wasn’t kidding. The alarm does, in fact, sound.

He catches the door with a hand; it’s weighted, ready to swing right back into place and-- if he knows his doors-- lock right behind her. Not that it’d be a problem if he meant to stand around on the stairwell and act as look out; a role he’d be happy to play if that’s how Doc wanted this whole show to run. But right now she’s slumped at the ledge, every last ounce of her usual moxie wrung out.

Maybe she might tell him to stand back, that this is something she’s got to take on alone, but Obi knows every aching line of that pose by heart. A car can keep going for fifty miles once it hits empty, but that just means you’ll never know when the tank runs dry. That’s where she is right now, stalling out at her limit.

And that’s what he’s here for, to push her that last inch over the finish line. Besides, he can’t just stand back, not when he’s grandpa’s ride.

“So.” There’s a shim in a corner-- a naughty thing to have around an emergency door like this, but Obi’s not about to tattle. He’s perfectly happy to wedge someone else’s problem right where the paint’s flaked off the door. “What’s the problem?”

Doc blinks, one hand trembling on grandma’s lid. “W-what?”

He settles grandpa on the ledge, arms folded around him, taking in the sprawl of buildings below. Clarines isn’t as big as one of those state universities, but it makes Tanbarun look like a college playset instead of a campus. Both of them have those stuffy brick and marble buildings they like up here, the kind that say academic and too good for you loud and clear, but whereas Obi’s walked across Clarines for thirty minutes and still never hit the edge, it looks like he could lap this place in twenty. No wonder Doc was miserable here; the real mystery is how she managed an entire year in this fancy rat cage.

“There’s got to be one.” He knows better than to look at her; if he’s going to make her talking about feelings, the least he can do is give her the privacy to have them. “You were all gung-ho a minute ago, ready to do your thing even if you had to punch out a cop to do it--”

“--I didn’t say that,” she murmurs--

“--but now you’re just standing here.” He shrugs, chancing a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Looking lost.”

“I just...” She shifts, head twisting toward him, he doesn’t need to meet her gaze to know it’s wild, desperate. “It doesn’t feel right that they don’t go together.”

It’s his turn to stare now, lost. “O...kay.”

“What if...” Her teeth fold over her lip, worrying at places already worn. “What if I left them go, and they don’t find each other?”

“Ah...?” It seems like a bit of an oversight now, not asking what the plan is, but he ventures, “You mean...the ashes?”

Her mouth twists up, annoyance in every wrinkle. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“No, no, I’m just...” He glances down at the tin between his arms. “I’m just putting things together. There’s nothing wrong about how you feel, Doc. Not like anyone’s really written a book about how this works.”

She looks up at him, so guileless. “Of course they have, Obi. There’s a whole section in the bookstore for it. It’s just that they’re all written by charlatans and quacks.”

Whatever the conversational version of whiplash is, Obi’s experiencing it now. For a minute all he can do is stare, taking in the abject disapproval rumpling her face, and then he-- he--

He laughs. Because this is what he’s into. The sort of person who pumps the breaks and spins the conversation 360 without even a courtesy ‘buckle up.’

“Listen, I’ve been thinking...” He taps the top of the tin, the metallic ting drowned out by the blare of the siren. “What if we just...mixed them? Then when you release them--”

“--They’re already together.” Doc blinks up at him, eye shining like he’s her savior, the center of her world, the answer to her cosmic question--

The way she really shouldn’t, when she already belongs to someone a hundred times better than he’ll ever be. Not when she’d never mean to get his hopes up.

“Thank you, Obi,” she breathes, a smile dawning on her lips. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Like all his good ideas, it’s easier said than done. On the ground, it’d been breezy, the sort of gentle push he’d come to expect from New England right before it got its first good snow, but up here--

“Here, take this.” Obi shrugs off his jacket, hurriedly pushing it into Doc’s boneless hands, but it’s too late-- they’ve already lost a bit of grandma. “Hold it up.”

She stares down at it, thumbs rubbing over the leather in a way that makes his shoulders itch. “Hold...?”

He swings out one arm-- the one not holding a geriatric-- yanking it wide. “Like a wind screen. I don’t want to lose Oma’s pinky toe or something.”

Doc blinks, stretching the coat between her hands. “Pinky toe?”

“Wouldn’t that make you cranky in the afterlife?” he asks, shaking more of Oma loose in a lull. “Losing a toe? Or a finger. Like just the last knuckle. A bit of your nose.”

The leather starts to ripple as the wind spins back up, and Doc stomps a foot down on the end of it to keep it from smacking up into his face. He appreciates the effort; it’s hard enough trying to pour from a large container to a small one without his zipper clocking him over the eyebrow. “Would that really matter?”

He shrugs. “To some people, probably. I got plenty of nose to spare.”

Doc mouth curves shyly, hunching down to hide behind his coat. “I think it’s fine just as it is.”

“Haah.” It’d be nice if she could give him a heads up when she plans to make his heart pound like that. “Think you might be the first to think that.”

“I don’t know,” she hums, eyes electric with some mischievous spark in their depths. “Maybe I’m the first to say so, but you certainly weren’t getting any complaints a few nights ago--”

He huffs. “Drunk college girls aren’t exactly arbiters of taste, Doc.”

She fixes him with that steady stare of hers, the one that’s so earnest it makes his heart make a bid for freedom through his throat. “I think,” she says, each word weighed before she lets it free, just like a good scientist, “that they did just fine.”

He smothers a whimper into a sigh. “Maybe your grandparents don’t mind me flirting,” he mutters, hunched over that stupid peanut butter tin, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t like you returning the favor.”

She blinks, head cocked. “Did you say something Obi?”

“No,” he says, just a little louder. “Just talking to myself.”

“You know--” he sets down the urn, wiping the sweat off his forehead-- “this would have been a lot easier going the other way.”

“We can’t.” Doc’s mouth twists up into that troublesome knot. “Opa always said he never wanted to be in one of those big fancy vases. And even if he would never know, I...”

Obi sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I know, I get it, just...complaining to complain. You know how it is.”

She stares down at him like he’s a fish on a dock telling her about the dangers of air. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Of course Doc wouldn’t get it; she could lose a limb and she’d still be thankful for the other three. Probably point out how much better things were now that she didn’t need to keep track of all of them. He might complain like it was as easy as breathing, but Doc-- Doc would take every last uncharitable thought to the grave.

Haah, give her some time. A few more months around him, and she’d discover some things to complain about. People always did.

“So,” he says, picking grandma back up. “Why here?”

Doc blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, on top of the roof of the campus center at one of the prestigious universities on the East Coast?” He raises a brow. “I know you used to go here, but most people just settle for leaving dog shit on the stoop when they want to send a ‘fuck you,’ you know.”

Doc unleashes a sound that can only be termed a squawk. “What? What do you mean most people--?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t-- I mean, it’s not supposed to be a, um...”

“Fuck you?”

“Ah...yes. That.” She grimaces. “They met here. And when I tried to think of places they might want to be...”

Her words drift to a stop, but it’s gentle. They don’t abandon her, leaving her high and dry, but she just...stops saying them, letting the wind carry them away.

“I couldn’t think of any place else,” she admits, fingers tightening in the leather. “They always talked about Tanbarun so fondly, and I...I always thought it sounded like paradise.”

“But the roof?” Obi asks, incredulous. “Is it just easier to scatter the ashes, or...?”

“It’s where they met,” she repeats, like that makes any sense at all. “They used to have movie nights up here, played on one of those reel projectors,”

Her gaze swings out over the concrete like she could see it; all the hippy bean bags piled up, big screen pulled down and movie hardly able to be heard over the wind. Not a bad picture, he’ll admit. Wholesome, just like he’d expect out of the people who raised this Precious Moments doll of a person. Doesn’t really explain Mukaze, but well, shit happens. Half the people who raised him don’t deserve the person he’s become either. “Nice story.”

She’s hardly here with him, eyes hazy and distant, stuck in a past only she can see. “That’s what I always thought. I always wanted...” Her voice trails off again, but this time her smile falters, topping like china from a wobbling shelf. “I always wanted to have a story like that too. But it, um, didn’t really work out that way.”

He shouldn’t say anything. He’s not some neutral party, here to give her that impartial, unbiased pick-me-up she wants to hear, like telling her won’t rips a strip right off his back, so-- he should keep his big mouth shut.

But he’s never been good at any of that being smart shit. “It’s not like you didn’t have your own meet cute, it just wasn’t here. It was, er...”

Huh, now would you look at that. He’s never actually asked.

“At a record store,” she supplies slowly, like she has to think on it too. “Between the aisles after I missed my bus. No--” she laughs, more bitter than he’s ever heard her-- “after I chose to miss it.”

“See?” he hums, vibrating the knife deeper. “That’s already a good start.”

Her lips press thin. “I suppose...”

“No supposing about it.” He taps grandpa so the ashes sit flat before he starts another pour. “If I know anything about your Oma and your Opa-- and I don’t know nothing besides what you told me--” and what he saw a decade ago, sitting on that park bench-- “I don’t think they care whether you met your person at a rooftop movie or in a Walmart--”

“Record store.”

“They have CDs too,” he informs her, just as prim as Doc gets with him when she indulged the one pedantic bone in her body. “But the point is, they wouldn’t care where it happened, they just wanted you to find what they had.”

“I...” She deflates, the leather bowing over her legs. “I know. I think they used to worry that I wouldn’t, especially since I wasn’t really, ah...”

“Looking for it?” he offers.

She nods, relieved. “Yes, that. After my parents, I think they expected a much more, um, active interest in...anything. And I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t need to hear her say it to know that there’s more to it than that, that what she means to say is, and I don’t think they understood.

“Well, nothing for them to worry about anymore, is there?” She blinks up at him, alarmed, and he adds, “You and chief are kind of a done deal right?”

“Ah!” It’s hard to tell with the wind slapping both their cheeks red, but he could swear Doc’s blushing. “I don’t-- it’s not-- we haven’t really talked about--” she heaves a heavy, resigned sigh-- “I mean, I...I guess?”

“As done as it can be without getting PR involved.” He gives her the sort of eyebrow Kiki might. “I’m sure that if they’re out there floating on clouds or whatever, or, i don’t know, free energy in the universe, molecules just bumping around...they’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Her reply’s so faint he nearly misses it, but the wind that snatches it away carries it right by his ear. “Yeah.”

“All right, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” Obi levers himself to his feet, brushing off his lap before handing her the tin. “You ready for this?”

Doc stares down at the canister, jaw set, the same way he’s sure it looked right before she threw herself out a window. Certainly looks the same way it did when she tried to bean Itoya with her purse.

“Yeah,” she breathes, fingers tightening around the metal. “I think I am.”

The wall’s not tall, but neither is Doc; she has to go up on tip-toe to throw an arm over it, the wind already pulling at the ashes laying loose at the top. Her brow furrows, mouth working for a good minute before she manages, “It’s time to say goodbye, I think.”

Obi stares. Sure, he’d said to keep it short and sweet, but if it’s taken this long for the rent-a-cop to hustle up, maybe she can spare the people who raised her more than--

“Thank you.” He’d thought it might be hard to hear her over both the alarm and the wind, but somehow all her words fly true, brightening the air. “For...everything. I don’t really know how you...”

Her breath catches, but her eyes are clear, no tears streaking down her face. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You did everything and more. But I think...” She sniffs, taking a moment. “I think I can take it from here. I’ll miss you, Oma. And Opa...”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I forgive you. For whatever still needs forgiving. Rest well.”

Her hand tips, just the barest degree, and the ashes scatter, wind whipping them past, twisting high over the quad.

“Hey.” Obi steps up beside her, shrugging his coat on over his shoulders. If it’s a little gritty-- well, good thing Doc thing thinks Oma would like him so much, because part of her might linger until the next wash. “I’m pretty sure it’s super illegal to scatter human remains like this.”

“Oh,” Doc hums, shoulder bushing his arm. “It absolutely is without a permit. I was not joking about the slightly illegal thing.”

Obi grins. “Well good thing that no one ever came to check on the--”

As if summoned by the mere mention of potentially having something approaching good luck, the door bar rattles, accompanied by some creative cursing.

“Who the fuck is leaving this open?” A gruff yet feminine voice demands, as if she might be able to shake down the universe and pick up the answers from what fell out of its pockets if she just rattled it hard enough. “Bill, is it you? God, what did I say about using the roof for your smoke breaks--?”

The door swings all the way open, and there she is, a security guard with shoulders that could have dropped straight from the Lowen family tree. Obi would take a picture if he wasn’t sure that would get him thrown in the campus drunk tank.

She takes one glance at them, then another angrier one. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“UM,” Doc shrills informatively.

“No, wait.” One broad hand waves in front of her. “I don’t care. What are you doing up here?”

Doc flounders in the face of authoritarian disappointment-- which is fine by Obi. This is his wheelhouse, after all. It’s nothing to reach out, cinching Doc’s waist against him, grin wide. “Sex, obviously.”

If it were possible for a body to choose the time and place of its expiration from this earthly dairy aisle, Doc’s mortified stare suggests she might curdle on the spot. “Obi.”

The guard’s glare is a study in skepticism, taking in the both of them, and then the concrete wasteland around them. “Here? With your clothes on?”

“It’s our kink.”

“Please,” Doc mutters against his shirt. “Don’t talk.”

The guard spares them one last weary look and sighs. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get out.”

Doc certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Obi’s got his mouth open, what can’t you let us finish first about to spill right out, but her small hand clamps around his, and she drags him right off the roof.

“SORRY,” she yelps as they pass. “WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”

“Yeah,” Obi agrees with a grin. “Next time we’ll fuck on some other roo--”

Doc pauses for one moment, just long enough to raise a finger and inform him “DON’T.”

This time he lets her drag him off, grinning.

They’re halfway down the stairs when Doc finally slows, her cheeks reaching a shade of red that looks more lipstick than lobster dinner. Her hand wraps tight around the rail, and it’s not until he saunters down the last couple steps to stand beside her that he realizes-- her eyes are screw tight, breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Hey,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the spark of alarm zipping under his skin. “Did you just realize we could have used the elevator?”

Her fingers, already wrapped tight around his palm, squeeze. “Obi...”

The muscles in his arm lock, the way he’s sure lizard tails do, right before they drop them off and run. “Doc?”

Her head turns toward him, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re bright, clear. “Thanks. For being there.”

“No. No, no,” he murmurs, his fingers spasming against hers. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one thank you for letting me. No one...”

No one has ever asked me to be there, he doesn’t say. No one but you.

It’s too much when she’s looking at him like this, like he’s not just a stand-in but her first choice. Like there’s more to how he feels than some one-sided over-investment. It brings him so close to feeling like someone, like the kind of guy who might be her person--

And maybe he could have been, if he hadn’t let some asshole rip her right out her arms in the middle of the night. If he had a record of being something other than a professional disappointment.

The grin doesn’t sit right on his face when he says, “No one’s ever asked me to get rid of a dead body before.”

Doc blinks, then rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she sighs, tugging his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Well,” she wheedles. “That. And I dropped the tin when the guard surprised us...”

“Ah I see.” He slips his hand from hers, grin finally sitting the way it should. “So we’re adding evidence removal and obstruction of justice to our list of crimes.”

She tips a dubious look back at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Doc,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I would never. I’m touched that you would even think that I could--”

“Come on, Obi,” she laughs, hopping down the steps in front of him. “I’d like to do this sometime today.”

His mouth curls as he watches her back. “Your wish is my command.”

[silverynight]

Change my mind

As Newt sits in front of the counter, he wonders if he should just go find a hotel room where he can spend the night instead; he's tired, but definitely glad he's finally in Brazil.

The pub is quiet and yet the bartender seems to be busy at the moment. Newt looks around and is about to rise from his seat again, when a man sits right next to him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" His voice is deep, it seems a little bit familiar, although he hasn't tried to look at him in the eye yet. It's difficult for him, especially after meeting new people.

What makes him curious about that man is that he decides to speak to him in english; he sounds like an american.

"Perhaps I'm coming on too strong, but you're really..."

Unfortunately, Newt doesn't pay too much attention to what he's saying at that moment because he finally turns around and realizes he's sitting right next to Percival Graves.

His hair is a little bit longer and he's using black jeans and a black shirt, which makes him look more relaxed and it's a little bit weird at first (or perhaps it's because Newt didn't actually meet him but Grindelwald instead).

Newt smiles at him, thinking that Graves has probably read about him and recognized him or maybe he's in a mission for MACUSA. However, Tina hasn't mentioned anything about him in her letters.

"I'd like a firewhiskey, please," he mumbles shyly and watches as Graves's grin turns into a hopeful smile. He speaks with the bartender in an excellent portuguese.

"What are you doing in Brazil?" Graves asks, leaning closer to him. "And most importantly, how long are you gonna stay?"

Newt tells him all about the fire slugs he wants to study and Graves listens to him like everything he says is absolutely fascinating.

"Aren't those illegal?" Graves asks, prompting the magizoologist to worry for a moment, but then he notices the amused grin and the kind glimmer in his eyes.

"I'm not keeping them, well... unless they're hurt or in danger... But I just keep them until they're ready to go back into the wild, like I do with all my creatures."

When Graves puts a hand on his knee to move even closer to him, Newt finally notices the golden earring and suddenly finds him really attractive.

He blushes, but pushes those thoughts aside to tell him everything about his other babies.

"A nundu?" Graves looks like he's not sure if he wants to laugh or narrow his eyes at him. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"No creature is dangerous!" At Newt's outraged tone, Graves finally chuckles and tries to calm him down putting a hand on his cheek. He asks for another couple of drinks.

"I'm sorry... I'm not used to this... I don't know much about them; I used to think of magical creatures only in terms of the law and those rules are not usually too kind with them," Graves admits. "But I'm willing to learn more, perhaps you can stay with me so we can get to know each other as well..."

"You're very kind," Newt beams, as soon as he realizes Graves means well. He also enjoys all the advice he gives him about the habitats he has created for his babies.

"I'm sorry... I haven't even asked your name–"

"I'm Newt Scamander, I thought Tina had talked you about me, Mr. Graves."

Newt is sure he did something wrong as soon as he sees Graves freezing on the spot.

"Have we... met? I'm sorry, I–He must've messed with my mind too..."

"No, it's alright," Newt puts a hand on his shoulder immediately, realizing he's remembering the time Grindelwald imprisoned him. "We don't know each other. I thought Tina or Queenie had said something about me. I actually met–"

"Him," Graves's face twists with anger and pain; Newt takes his hand and intertwines their fingers together, watching with relief as the man slowly calms down. "No one knows I'm here. Don't tell them, please."

"Oh. Alright," Newt mumbles, suddenly puzzled. If Graves didn't know who he was, then why he approached him in the first place? Perhaps he mistook him for someone else? "Well, I need to get going–"

"Wait. You can still stay at my place," Graves rises from his seat as well, following Newt.

***

It's a small house, but cozy. Newt likes it. Graves looks nervous though, he rubs the back of his neck, eyes glued to Newt.

His face turns bright red.

"You can sleep in my bedroom. I mean, I thought we could... You know I was trying to–"

"Nonsense! I can take the couch," Newt insists; he doesn't want to be a bother.

Graves suddenly looks sad, just for a moment, before he clears his throat and looks away from him.

"It's fine. I'm not offended, I understand. I'm not–We can be friends. I have a spare room."

Newt really doesn't want to cause him any trouble, but the wizard insists on leaving him a room all to himself.

"Thank you, Mr. Graves."

"Please, call me Percival."

He stays a couple of weeks with Percival and he learns a lot about him; he enjoys helping Newt to make his case better and more secure for his creatures and although he is an excellent and talented wizard, he could be a little bit clumsy sometimes.

"Good morning, Newt. Would you like–" he stops as soon as he turns around, staring at him as his cheeks turn completely red. He starts pouring coffee all over the counter instead of his cup. "Your shoulder has f-freckles as well."

"Your coffee!" Newt says at the same time and Percival curses and blushes even more before he cleans the mess with wandless magic.

Newt fixes his oversized sweater to cover his shoulder and Percival spends the rest of the morning looking anywhere but at him.

"Your legs are long," he comments another day and curses himself before mumbling. "I meant to say: morning."

Newt looks at the long shirt that covers very little of his thighs and thinks that maybe Percival doesn't like to see Newt being such a mess in the morning. He changes his clothes immediately.

They talk about MACUSA and what happened sometimes, Newt knows Percival misses his life in New York, but he's still hurt and bitter because no one seemed to notice it wasn't him.

He escaped from Grindelwald and traveled for a while until he decided to live in Brazil; he thought no one would find him there.

"But you came," Percival smiles fondly at him. "And found me, even though that wasn't your intention."

Newt has the feeling he wants to say something else, but doesn't push him, instead they feed the mooncalves and sit for a while with them. Newt falls asleep quickly and wakes up in his bedroom.

Percival doesn't make any comment on it in the morning.

The magizoologist doesn't realize how much he enjoys Percival's company until it's time to say goodbye.

"I'll miss you, Percy."

"You can go back anytime," the wizard says, with a desperate tone in his voice.

"I can't... Not soon at least. I just accepted a job as a consultant in MACUSA," Newt mumbles, truly lamenting it.

"Oh... right. Well, goodbye."

"I'll write to you," Newt promises, although he notices that Percival doesn't look too happy about that.

***

Newt keeps his promise, however, he can't stop Queenie Goldstein from finding out; he's not very good at occlumency and his friend has gotten used to his accent.

"Please, don't tell anyone. He doesn't want it," he whispers to her after following her to the kitchen.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I won't. Although I think he'll be coming here pretty soon," she assures him, winking at him.

Newt is not sure about that, he's sent a couple of letters now and even though Percival seemed really enthusiastic about writing back it's been a couple of weeks since Newt received the last letter.

Part of him is worried and the other part of him is hurt. Perhaps he just wants to be left alone after all.

Tina is having a horrible time with the new Director, Collins, Picquery told him his position was only temporary but he's acting like he's going to stay forever and is MACUSA's king now.

Newt thinks he doesn't like him (he's constantly following him everywhere whenever he sets foot in MACUSA) but Queenie thinks it's quite the opposite.

"Although I wouldn't go near him if I were you," she tells him. "I think it's an obsession."

It's difficult to avoid someone when he's in charge of the department one's working for.

But Newt tries anyway.

"Oh, you're here doll, I've been looking for you the whole day," Collins grins, taking Newt by the arm. "Turns out there's something wrong with one of the permits Madam President gave you. You have to come back to my office."

For some reason, Queenie looks angry (it's weird to see her like that) and quickly storms into her sister's office.

"Don't worry, doll, I'll make you a new one," he grins and Newt's about to thank him when he adds: "If you have a date with me."

"But... I don't think it's a good ide–"

"It's that or you'll have to give me your Nundu."

Instinctively, Newt pulls the case closer to him. He rescued Nancy a couple of months ago, which means the only human she trusts at the moment is him (and Percival, actually). If she sees someone else she could have a panic attack and hurt someone and if she does not even Picquery will be willing to forgive her.

"Well... Then I'll acce–"

There's a noise outside the office; it's like people are running... For a frightening moment, Newt thinks one of his babies escaped, but he realizes his case is still firmly closed (besides, Percival taught him a thing or two about magic locks).

"What's that?" Collins growls, irritated before storming out. Newt follows him with caution and then sees Weis running down the hallway with a huge grin upon her face.

There are a couple of people gathering around someone in the cafeteria, they all are talking excitedly at the same time, someone is sobbing.

"Let him go, he wants to see Newt," Queenie chuckles happily before the people around move out of the way.

That's when Newt sees Percival Graves again, smiling at him nervously.

"I missed you so much," he says, out of breath, before rushing towards the magizoologist.

He takes his face in his hands and presses their foreheads together; Newt didn't know how much his heart had ached for him until now.

"You didn't write back, I thought you didn't want to be my friend anymore."

"I apologise for that. I was nervous because I was getting ready to come back here, Newt. I..."

"Mr. Graves, in case anyone hasn't informed you, I'm the new Director of Magical Security and he's my consultant magizoologist, so I'll ask you this once–"

Without even looking back, Percival makes Collins fall to the ground using wandless magic, no one around offers to help the new Director.

Then Madam President gets out of her office and requests Percival's presence.

Collins starts yelling at everyone to help him when Percival comes out again with a smirk on his face; he moves his hand to change his clothes for a suit, but he keeps the earring and his long hair.

Newt finds himself really attracted to him in that moment, but tries to push those thoughts aside.

"I'm back. I'll be your Director again," he informs everyone around as Collins finally gets up and everyone in the hallway cheers.

Collins rushes into Picquery's office with a furious expression on his face and gets fired a few minutes later.

***

Percival asks Newt to stay in his house after the magizoologist helps him with the magic locks and the decoration.

It'll take a while for the Director to feel like he's at home again, but he's quickly getting there.

"I need to tell you something first, Newt," he says, taking his hand as they both sit on the couch, exhausted.

"What is it, Percy? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine... I'm just–I need you to know I'm in love with you. I didn't mean for this to happen, but it did and I couldn't stop it. I was very attracted to you since we met and I know you didn't want to (you probably still don't) be with me like that, but you have to know..."

"Wait." Newt turns around to look directly into Percival's dark eyes. "I had no idea you were attracted to me when–"

"I invited you a drink, Newt."

"I thought it was because you recognized me."

Percival doesn't seem upset, though he rolls his eyes. He's smiling with hope.

"I asked you to sleep in my bedroom."

"I thought it was just you being nice and that you were going to sleep on the couch." Newt mumbles, blushing as he realizes how obvious it was that Percival wanted to have sex with him then.

The Director chuckles and kisses Newt's hand.

"And now? What if I asked you to sleep with me?"

"I'd say yes." Newt says, still in a nervous whisper.

Percival takes him by the chin and kisses him until they're both gasping for air.

"What if I asked you to give us a chance? To start a relationship?"

"I wouldn't say no to that because I think I'm in love with you, Percy."

"Come here, love," the Director grins as he pulls Newt closer for another kiss.

***

Patreon

[zombiekillerky]

{ROTTMNT Fanfic} - Insomnia

(This Fanfic was inspired by @dovelydraws​ with their wonderful fanart they made of Rottmnt. Please go show them some support on their account!!)

( WARNING : This is not Turtle x Turtle related at all, this is purely just some family scenarios with no relationships at all what’s so ever. Just regular day in the life turtle stuff)

Leo would never admit it to anyone that he was starting to get Insomnia. His usual joyful and sarcastic self would never tell anyone about his sleepless nights he had been having. Ever since the fight with Draxum and Big Mama at her hotel about the ooze-squitos. He hasn’t been able to sleep at least a couple of hours. He could pin point why he wasn’t having any luck on one thing that came to mind every time he thought about it. Him falling from a skyscraper that had at least around 52 floors or more. He would say it could be PTSD, but he chose not to think about it and just ignored it for the time being. Pushing everything to the side in order to make it through the day with out being questioned over and over by his family. The turtle in blue would say the last time he had a decent sleep was last week or maybe the week before. The fight took place on what he thought was Tuesday. So 9 days he hasn’t been able to catch a few Z’s in order to function properly. It was getting to the egotistical turtle a lot, taking a toll on how he acted and functioned during the day. His reflexes a lot slower then normal and barely any comebacks and puns left his mouth as the days went by. Yet he couldn’t tell his brothers what was going on with him, feeling as though he would just be bothering them at this point. But the looks they give him during the day make him realize that they are on to him more then he thought. 

Leonardo walked out of his bedroom, covering his mouth as he let out a small yawn before returning to the front area. His brothers had just woken up at their regular times of the day. At least from what he thought since he could hear some of their voices in different rooms when he first decided to leave his dark room. Yet here he was not a wink of sleep, walking out like a zombie that rises fresh from the grave. Did he want to make a joke about himself, yeah, but he had to keep his personal issues a secret. At this point in time he was sure his brother’s had noticed a change in his body and the way he has looked. It was one of the things the turtle in blue didn’t want to deal with or talk about at the moment. He just wanted a calm day, maybe by himself if he was feeling up to it. As the laid back turtle walked in to the kitchen area his brother glanced at him in confusion. Mikey quickly glanced around the corner to make sure Leo was in there before going to his brothers in Donnie’s lab. As he walked in they both gave him the same look he thought they would give him before he fully entered.

“What’s up with Leo guys, he looks so tired and sad all of a sudden....do you think something happen to him?” Mikey asked as he hugged himself thinking about how he has been looking the past couple of days. He’s been wanting to ask him about it for a while now, but knowing Leo he would just tell him he’s fine and brush it off. Leo has always never really wanted to talk about his true feelings with things. They were all almost used to that aspect of him by now from previous times. But the state his brother was in was starting to worry Mikey greatly. He would do anything for his brother to make sure he was okay. The youngest of the three turtles glanced to the oldest for answers, watching his tense and anxious nature was not helping him at all.

“I don’t know but he keeps stealing my coffee in the morning and it’s starting to annoy me. That’s one of the main things that keeps me going and not having all of it is taking me down a notch” Donnie replied as he turned in his chair to face his younger brother standing behind him. The words that left his mouth seemed like he was more annoyed hen worried at the moment. Even though they were very serious about their brother’s condition and state of mind. Taking note on his worried face he had at the moment like it was a surprise to him. Donnie wouldn’t admit it but he has noticed his brother’s sudden change in behavior lately. His usual annoying self has died down a bit which he would say was good. But it was so weird not hearing his sarcastic come backs and his puns he always says through out the day. He also didn’t want to admit it but he did kind of miss his sarcastic attitude he had in certain situations. Realizing this is what it would have been like if he made his gift to him permanent. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted things to be like that now that he got a small taste of this attitude.

“Do you think something is bothering him?”

“Of course there is Raph other wise why would he look like a zombie coming out of his room every morning the past couple of days then?”

“Nightmares?”

“I don’t think Nardo would get that scared of nightmares like you and Mikey do when you both have them” Donnie replied, a frustrated sigh followed as he rested his head on his palm. Not wanting to continue his sentence in worry that his brother’s would get offended by his words, which they would have. But his main thought was trying to think of a possible way his brother could be acting so different then normal. He felt as though he would be the only one to find out why especially with his scientific skills on board. The overly smart turtle over heard his older brother sigh as he glanced out of the lab. Watching their brother in need walk out of the kitchen with a coffee cup and a cookie in his hand for his so called breakfast. You could smell how strong the coffee was from where they were standing. Raph couldn’t unseen the look on his brother’s face, the tired, emotionless look he was giving like he was in thought all of the time. This wasn’t the Leo he knew no, there was defiantly something up with him and he was desperate to know what. He was supposed to know what was wrong and how to make things better. He was the older brother, this was his responsibility to know what was up. He felt like he was failing him in some way not officially knowing what was making him sad.

“I should just go and ask him-”

“No you’ll just annoy him by asking him Raph, I’ll handle this alright just give me some time.” Donnie replied as he turned back around to work on his bow staff. The simple taps of his foot hitting the ground showed he was in thought at the moment. Raphael bit his bottom lip as his brow knitted together. It didn’t look like he was trying to figure out what was wrong with their brother at all. It almost looked like he didn’t care that much if he was being quite honest. Maybe this was just Donnie’s version of tough love that he gave. But Raphael wasn’t having any of it, he needed to know what was up and now before things got worse. The eldest of the turtle’s in the room started to walk out. His gaze turned to Mikey who was following right behind him. Already knowing what his older brother was up to and wanted to help out like always. The duo of the lighter colored masked turtles made their way out of Donnie’s lab as quickly as they could. Making it to a point where they could actually speak to each other in private of their other brother’s in their home.

“What are we gonna do now Raph....what if Leo says nothing to us?” Mikey asked suddenly, doubting his skills to help his brother in need. Raph was honestly thinking the same thing at the moment. But he knew he couldn’t tell his younger brother he had the same doubts in mind. He needed to stay positive about this whole thing and hope for the best out come. 

“Well we aren’t going to force him in to doing anything....we just need to make sure that he is alright....if he doesn’t want to tell us what is going on then he doesn’t have to if he isn’t comfortable enough.” Raphael replied, watching the ends of Mikey’s lips curl in to a small warming smile. The leader in red wasn’t to sure about his own skills in comforting his brother at the moment either. But he needed to try, he has vented to Leo in the past about some problems of his. So he needs to make sure he knows that he is there for him too. The turtle in red sighed slightly, covering his mouth with the end of his fist as he stood there in thought. Thinking of the best way for him to go in there and ask him what was up. His overthinking nature was taking over his mind at the moment, making him unsure of everything. Raph soon stopped himself, clearing his throat before walking over where his brother’s room was. His steps were quiet as he walking carefully over. Noticing the light was off that he usual turned on when he woke up. Raph’s gaze went back toward his little brother behind him. Getting a quick thumbs up with a small grin that followed for good luck. His hand raised and returned the gesture before walking in after knocking on the side of the cement in the doorway. 

“Hey Leo what are you doing?” Raph asked calmly like any other normal day of the week. Watching Leo set his comic book down he seemed to reread over and over every once and a while. He took note on the look on his face, the bags underneath his eyes. Not to mention how slow he was really moving. The turtle in blue stretched slightly, hearing a small pop of his back before shrugging ever so slightly as a reply. Raphael soon walked in after, feeling like he was sort of welcomed in by his brother. The end of Leo’s bed sunk due to his weight being on the end compared to Leo’s in the middle. The awkward silence was very unsettling as they sat in the dark bedroom next to each other. Something neither of them were used to with their quite loud family they have. 

“Nothing” Was the soft reply that was heard coming out of Leo’s mouth. His expressions were slow and his excitement was minimal then what his normal range was. Raph’s eyes darted around the room for something to talk about, feeling as though he shouldn’t get straight to the point of why he came in to his room. 

“D-Did you need something? Wanting a training partner like you said yesterday?” Leo asked to try and lighten the mood. Faking acting like he was himself when Raph could see right through his brother’s charade. Raphael leaned forward and rested his hand on Leo’s shoulder. The laid back turtle glanced up in to his brother’s eyes questionably. Already bracing himself for the questions to come once he saw the worried look in his eyes. His gazed went to the side and found his much younger brother in the doorway as well. Acting as if he wasn’t there and Leo couldn’t see him. But right now he needed to pay attention to what his older brother was saying.

“Are you okay?”

“Define okay.....I think I’m fine why?”

“Like overthinking? Sleeping issues? Nightmares at all?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Leo don’t deny it, we have seen you coming out of your room the past few days looking like you haven’t slept at all. It’s starting to worry us even if you don’t see that. I’m speaking for all of us at the moment” Raphael replied as he moved closer to his brother on the bed. Taking note of his expression of thought he had at the moment. The turtle in blue was trying his best to make up an excuse, a lie of some sort to make it seem like he was fine. But the truth was screaming to be let out of him, hoping they could help him in some way. This whole no sleep act was getting to him in more ways then he could count. He couldn’t take this annoying pain away no matter how hard he tried, he just always seemed to wake himself up. Leo’s eyes darted around the room, finally locking with Raph’s as he stared down at him. He would never be able to lie to his face even if he tried. The turtle in blue bounced his leg out of anxiety, running his hand behind his head all the way down to his neck nervously.  

A sigh left Leo’s lips as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on his brother’s muscular arm. Giving up on trying to lie to his brother trying to help him. Raph happily wrapped his arm around him to comfort his brother in need. Watching his eyes stare out at the wall as they screamed for help but no words came out of his mouth. This was his plead to him he felt almost with how quiet he got. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Raph asked Leo in his arms, feeling him shake his head calmly and slowly up against him. This concerned Raphael greatly once he learned of that. He bit his bottom lip slightly as he glanced back at Mikey standing there nervously. His eyes went back down to his brother sitting there up against him. Things were now tying up together from what Raph assumed before hand.

“How long has it been since you have actually slept bro.....please be honest with me here?” The older brother in red asked calmly in a soothing tone. Hearing a small sigh as Leo shrugged his shoulder’s slightly in return. Worrying Raph even more so then before hand.

“I don’t remember the last time I had a really nice sleep if I’m being quite honest Raphie” Leo replied with a warn out grin on his face to hide away the pain. Raphael’s brow knitted together as he thought about what he had said more and more. Not being able to understand why his brother was suddenly having bad sleeping issues. Leonardo was one of the main turtles that got good sleep being as though he complained when not getting his usual hours when he woke up to early. Why hasn’t he even told him about this before hand, Leo was one to speak his mind about something he thought was off. He spoke his mind about Big Mama and here she was a villain after all. 

“Why haven’t you been able to sleep.....is there something wrong? Something keeping you up at night Leo?” Raph asked softly, watching Leo’s eyes squint as he tried to think of something. Raphael waited patiently for him to answer, watching his expressions change as he rested against him. The turtle in red couldn’t really pin point anything on his bad sleeping issues at all. Not knowing what was bothering him made his heart ache, he should know after all. The guilt was rising in him that he didn’t know and wasn’t there for his brother when this first started to happen. Feeling idiotic for not realizing sooner and acting sooner then this.

“I-I don’t really know if I’m being quite honest..... the only thing I can really think of is when I was thrown off that roof top back when we were fighting Draxum on Big Mama’s hotel building....nothing comes to mind besides that moment and it’s the only thing that ties up to when I started not being able to sleep I think....I’m not sure other then that.” Leo replied as he glanced up at Raph in front of him. Raphael’s eyes widened in realization as he recalled that night clear as day. Draxum held him over the roof top and asked Raph either his brother or the bugs. Raph was sure he was bluffing, being that he thought every villain does. But once he saw his brother was thrown off the roof as soon as he said no to giving him the bugs. He dropped the jar of ooze-suitos immediately to go and save him. It was close he would admit and he wasn’t sure how he activated his powers. But he saved his brother from falling at the last second and made sure he was okay before they made it back to the others. He hadn’t even realized that fall had caused his brother trauma secretly. He had just assumed since they have been up on the roof tops for ages that he would have been used to the fall and the height. Raph’s eyes darted back down to Leo sitting there with his tired look. His arm keeping him up on the bed soon wrapped around his shell and pulled him in closer.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see this before bro, I should have noticed this sooner then I did and maybe we could have helped you earlier then this....maybe I could have acted faster then I did back then and saved you quicker”

“no no Raph it’s not your fault bro come on, it’s okay....I’m okay....i forgive you if that’s what you want to hear....but it’s not your fault”

“I am really sorry though Leo....truly I am”

“Yeah we’re so sorry Leo” They both heard Mikey say from the door way with a guilty look on his face. Leo smiled softly as he held his hand out, motioning for him to come on to the bed. Which Mikey immediately did so and joined in on the group hug as soon as he could. For once Leo actually felt safe, he felt all the anxiety go away from him in their arms that held him tight. Comfortable like nothing could touch him like the times when they were little.

“It’s alright guys....I-I’m fine really....I just need to get this under control”

“Well we are here for you bro no matter what, we’ll always be here if you need us” Mikey replied lovingly as he hugged Leo tighter, making the laid back turtle chuckle softly. 

“Well....we could try sleeping medication now that we have found the route of what has caused you such trauma and stress lately. Getting that off of your chest is the first step and if things don’t go back to normal sleeping medication is the next answer for now” The three turtles on the bed glanced toward the door way and found Donnie standing there propped up against the side. Arms crossed as he gazed inside with a small worried look on his face he hoped they couldn’t see. This was the “I try to cover up my worry” look as Leo likes to call it. The turtle in blue smiled softly at him as a thanks, not even daring to move away from his brothers holding him. He didn’t even notice sleep taking him over slowly as he sat there with him.

“Sounds like a plan then D” Leo replied with a small yawn, resting his head back against Raph’s arm tiredly. His eyes slowly shutting as a result of the lack of sleep he has been getting. Raph only smiled as he held a finger to his lips at his two other younger brothers in the room.

“Looks like we’re gonna have a day off today then guys” Raph soon said as he heard the small snores coming from his brother in blue in his arms at the moment. Realizing comfort was one of the things the turtle needed all along to help him get some shut eye. The eldest turtle slowly moved up against the wall in order to rest. Having Leo moved on to his plastron and Mikey right beside him. Noticing Mikey was falling slowly asleep too as he spoke. Raph’s eyes darted over toward Donnie walking in to the room slowly. His hands carefully grabbed a hold of the somewhat folded blanket on the edge of the bed sheets. For someone so loud in their lab he was moving extra carefully and quietly to not wake Leo up.

“His body has probably given up on the resistance of sleep due to the lack of it this whole time.....It seems like you both have helped him by comforting him” Donnie said as he carefully laid the blanket over his overly exhausted brother sleeping up against Raph. Noticing Mikey’s falling asleep as well. 

“Do you want to join too D? I know you stayed up til 3 last night so don’t play games with me.”

“Well I do have some projects I would like to work on....but I am running low on sleep too soooo...” Donnie replied as he looked down upon them on the bed. Noticing Raph smirking since he knew what his answer was going to be. Donnie sighed as he took a step on to the bed and laid up against Raph’s other side. Taking his battle shell off since he wasn’t gong anywhere before laying down comfortably up against him as well. The turtle in red smiled softly to himself as he stared up at Leo’s ceiling. Getting nostalgia from when they were younger since this was how they used to sleep some days. The turtle in red’s eyes slowly started to shut. Glad that he could help his brother in need when he could at that Leo was finally getting some sleep. 

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Eggpocalypse

Part One: Crimson Morning

A DreamSMP Fic

A/N: Hey guys I’m writing a DSMP fic :D Why? Because I had an idea that I thought was cool. If you find this fic but aren’t familiar with me, hello, welcome *waves* This will be the only DSMP fic I write, but it’s gonna be a long multi-chapter thing like all my other fics in my main community. If you know me for my other stuff, hello to you too. Feel free to read if you want ^-^ Either way, I hope you all enjoy this! It’s been like...months in the making jsafkh

Brief Summary: Everyone wakes up one morning to find the Greater SMP area is overrun with crimson. The vines attack people, and a small group manages to take shelter...for now.

=====================

Tommy woke up to the faint feeling of something tickling his face. What was that? Well, it didn’t matter. He was trying to sleep. Without opening his eyes, he slapped at the tickling object and rolled over. Only a few seconds later, however, the tickling was back. He buried his face in the pillow, but it kept brushing against his ear. Now thoroughly annoyed, he rolled onto his back and blinked open his eyes, ready to snap at whoever was pulling some sort of prank on him.

Except instead of seeing someone’s face—or anything familiar at all—he saw a lot of red. What? No, that made sense, didn’t it? He fell asleep in the hotel, and it was red. Except...there was way too much of it. He rubbed his eyes to clear the sleep away, and—

“Holy shit!” Tommy bolted upright. “Holy fuck!”

The entire room was filled with red vines.

“No no no no no you can’t be in here!” Tommy threw away the blankets and stood up, tripping over something as he got out of bed. He looked down to see he’d nearly fallen over one of the vines. “Oh fuck, they’re everywhere!” They were covering the windows, snaking across the floor, dangling from the ceiling. And worse, they were moving.

One of the smaller vines dangling from the ceiling wriggled closer to him, drifting across his face. Tommy jerks back. “Don’t touch me, bitch!” He hit the vine, knocking it back, but felt something on his ankle. Looking down again, he yelped as the vine he’d nearly tripped over started wrapping around his leg. And there were more coming, moving snakelike across the floor.

He had to get out of here, before they overwhelmed him. He spun around. The balcony entrance was completely blocked by thick vines, as big around as a tree, and the windows were similarly covered, leaving the room dim as they blocked sunlight from outside. So he couldn’t jump out that way. That only left the ladder chute to the suite. And the larger vines were slowly creeping to cover that as well.

No time to waste! Tommy grabbed his items from the chest by the bed and sprinted across the room. The vines on the floor tripped him up, but he made it just in time to duck under the larger vines and make it to the ladders. He grabbed one of the rungs and started to descend...but froze.

Vines were criss-crossing the ladders, blocking his way down. As he stared, shocked, they stopped wriggling aimlessly and started creeping slowly towards him. “Hey! Back off!” He kicked the nearest tendrils off the ladders, but they recovered quickly and continued to inch closer.

Okay, there had to be a way around this. Maybe he could climb down while fighting them off. Or...there was a small spot that was clear of vines. He could see the distant floor of the hotel lobby down below. At least, he hoped that was the red of the hotel lobby and not the red of more vines. He had a water bucket on him. He could—but if he missed, he’d be dead. Like, dead dead. Forever.

Then the thick vines above him trembled. And they heaved from their position, darting forward with surprising speed.

“Oh fuck this,” Tommy gasped, and let go of the ladder.

The ground approached swiftly. Acting fast, he pulled out the water bucket and poured it—landing with a splash in the resulting puddle just in time. He didn’t even have time to celebrate the success. Because the hotel lobby was even more crowded with vines than the rooms above. They blanketed the floor, dripped from the walls, all gradually encroaching further into the building. The windows were covered, and so were the front doors. Tommy froze again, eyes darting around the room. And soon, the vines noticed him as well, and all of them slithered towards him.

“Tommy! Are you in there?!”

A voice?! Coming from outside. It sounded like—“Puffy, is that you?” Tommy called, taking out his sword.

“Okay, you’re in there! Thank fuck. Hang on!”

A few seconds later, part of the vines covering the door fell away, letting sunlight into the darkened room. He could see the form of two people, and a hand reached inside. “C’mon, we’ll get you out!” Puffy called.

“Oh you fucking better!” Tommy swung his sword at the nearest vines, knocking them back but not slicing into them. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so rude, I’m just under a lot of pressure right now. How’d these even get in here?!” He started walking towards the door, struggling against the vines that were grabbing onto his legs, trying to drag him backwards.

“I don’t know, maybe through the door?” Another chunk of the door-blocking vines fell away, revealing Puffy’s face. “Or it looks like some of the windows are broken.”

“They broke the windows to my hotel?! Dickheads.” Tommy attacked the vines with his sword again, using it more to beat them away than to cut them. Some of the ones from the ceiling were reaching out for him. He punched them away with his free hand.

“I know, right? Just inconsiderate.” Puffy briefly disappeared. The big vines blocking the door were moving, pressing together to try and close the opening. But there was a flash of purple enchantment glow, and they were hacked away again. “You gotta hurry, Tommy, they’re moving fast!”

“I’m coming, alright!” Yanking one foot free of the vine’s grip, he ran the last few steps to the doorway.

Puffy turned to the side to look at something out of sight. “Can you hold the vines back while I pull him out?” A pause. Then she nodded and turned back. “C’mon, Tommy, grab on,” she said, reaching inside.

“Got it.” Tommy snatched her offered hand, squeezing tight.

“I’m gonna pull on three. One...two...three!” Puffy pulled, but the vines struck again, a few suddenly darting forward to wrap around Tommy’s waist.

Tommy yelled. “Holy shit they’re grabbing me! They’re pulling me, it’s just like quick sand!”

“It’s okay, we’re getting you out,” Puffy said determinedly. She leaned forward through the opening in the vines, wrapping her arms around Tommy’s torso. Then she looked back. “Help me on three! One...two...three!”

With a mighty heave, Tommy was pulled from the grasp of the vines, landing on the ground outside the hotel. Immediately, he scrambled to his feet. “What the fuck?!”

“Tommy, Tommy, are you okay?!” Puffy looked him over, patting for injuries. Her red coat was hidden beneath netherite armor, her horns sticking out from under a helmet.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tommy waved her aside.

<Are you sure you are alright, TommyInnit?>

Tommy looked over to where the familiar sounds had come from. “Yeah, I’m sure, Sam Nook.”

Sam Nook nodded. He was holding an enchanted netherite hoe in one hand. Clearly, he’d been the one helping Puffy to rescue him. <I am glad you are alright, TommyInnit.>

“Yeah, so am I, but what the fuck is going on?!”

“Walk a little bit this way, onto the Prime Path, they tend to avoid that,” Puffy said, shuffling to the left.

“I—okay?” Tommy and Sam Nook followed her lead, and it was only then that Tommy noticed the situation around them.

The vines. They were everywhere, crawling through the grass, climbing up trees and the sides of hills. He’d seen them in spots across the SMP, but they’d never been here before. Now, his house’s entrance was blocked off by vines, the crops in his farm uprooted, his fences hidden beneath crimson tendrils.

“I thought you’d be inside your house,” Puffy said, looking back at the blocked entrance. “I was so freaked out before Sam Nook told me you’d slept in the hotel. What were you doing in there anyway?”

“Well I thought I’d break it in, you know, try it out. It seemed right to do it the night before I visited—” Tommy stopped. “Anyway. How the hell did this happen?!”

“I don’t know, they started to spread overnight!” Puffy defended.

“They’re moving, do you see that?” Tommy pointed into the vines. Every single one was moving, even if only a bit, ranging from tightening around what they were holding to slithering across the ground. “It’s like a bunch of worms, has that happened before?”

“No, it hasn’t! They’re all across the greater SMP area, it’s all covered—well, most of it. They don’t like the Prime Path, I mean they’ll touch it if they have to, but generally—” She let out a huff of air. “They’re all the way out here and beyond.” Glancing down at the sword in Tommy’s hand, she asked, “Do you have a hoe?”

“Well I mean—” Tommy stammered for a moment. “Hrmmm I have quite a lot of hoes, but I don't think this is the time to ask about that, Puffy.”

Under other circumstances, Puffy would’ve laughed. She would have joined in on the joke, or at the very least smiled at it. The fact that her face remained serious showed how grave the situation really was. “Here, take a hoe.” She handed him a diamond hoe. “They do the most damage to these things.”

Tommy took it, then looked back and forth between Puffy and Sam Nook. “Well...what do we do now?”

“For now, you need to get to the Holy Land,” Puffy said. “They don’t go in there.”

“Wait, just me?!” Tommy asked.

“I’m sorry, Tommy, but there are more people out here,” Puffy said regretfully. “Not many, but a few. And I need to find Sam. I think he was at the prison, and I-I don’t know if it’s gotten that far but I need to check—”

“Well why don’t I just stay with the hotel, then?” Tommy suggested, gesturing back to the vine-covered building.

“What? Tommy, look at it! The vines have fucked it!”

“I know that! But it’s—it’s like—” Tommy struggled to find the words for a moment. “It’s my hotel! I did all this to put it together, went on a million fuckton of fetch quests, it’s a—it’s a good place, Puffy, I can’t just leave it behind.”

<Worry not, TommyInnit,> Sam Nook finally spoke again. <I can stay and protect the Big Innit Hotel.>

“Sam—Sam, no, I-I can’t ask you to do that!” Tommy protested. “You’re like—you’re all—what if something happened to you?”

<Nothing will happen to me, TommyInnit,> Sam Nook said with a smile. <I will make sure of it. The crimson will not touch the hotel.>

“But—Sam, you—”

<My job is to help with the hotel. I can stay here. It is important to me that you follow Puffy’s directions and stay safe.>

Tommy took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Okay. Okay. You—you’d better be here when I get back, Sam Nook. I’m counting on you.”

<I will not let you down, TommyInnit,> Sam Nook promised.

“Yeah, you—I’ll—yeah.” Tommy nodded, and looked back at Puffy. “Okay, I’ll head to the Holy Land. I’ll beat the fuck out of any vines that get close to me.” He waved the hoe demonstratively.

“Be careful, Tommy,” Puffy warned. “Don’t let any of them grab you.”

“I won’t. Oh trust me, I have experience in—in beating back bitches with hoes.” He sort of regretted saying that halfway through, but he finished it anyway.

That got a bit of a smile out of Puffy, though. “I’ll be there soon. There should be a whole bunch of people there already.” She took out an enchanted netherite hoe of her own, matching Sam Nook’s, and slowly backed away. “Be careful, okay Tommy?”

“You said that already. And I will be.” Tommy turned to go. “I’ll see you in the Subs!” And he started running down the Path.

=====================

Puffy wasn’t exaggerating when she said the vines were everywhere. As Tommy ran, he saw vines crawling across every surface. The areas that had been covered before were practically solid red with how much they were covered now, and the areas that had been free were gradually disappearing under the crimson sea. The vines usually moved slowly, but every so often they’d dart forward in a burst of speed. He had to stop every so often to fight them back with the diamond hoe Puffy had given him.

He wasn’t the only one out in this chaos, either. He could see people—normal citizens of the SMP—fighting back against tendrils trying to attack them. Very ineffectively, most of the time. People were shouting and screaming as the vines wrapped around them. But not all of them were fighting back. Some of them were just standing there. Staring at the vines. Entranced. And that was even worse.

“Holy shit,” Tommy said to himself. He stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed. Should he do something to help?

Then a few arm-sized vines lunged forward and started grabbing at his ankles.

Crying out, he swung the hoe downwards, chopping off the ends of the vines. He instantly started sprinting again. There were too many people and not enough time! But...he had to do something.

He managed to make it through the shopping centre, the vines getting thicker as he went. It wasn’t that far now. If he could just go a little faster! The vines seemed to know he was here, and were becoming more active as he passed by.

Someone yelled something nearby. It was almost lost in the rest of the cries, but Tommy paused. He recognized that voice. Slowing down, but not stopping, he glanced around for the source of the shout, and saw a pair of familiar faces.

“Sapnap? Big Q?” Now he stopped, hopping in place to make it more difficult for the vines to grab him.

Neither of them noticed him. They were too busy fending off the vines. One of the bigger ones had wrapped around Quackity’s torso, pinning one of his arms. It had knocked him to the ground, where he was struggling to get to his feet again. Sapnap was trying to pull him away from the vine’s grasp, gripping his arm with one hand. There was an axe in his other hand, and he swung weakly at the vine, doing no damage.

Tommy hesitated. Then: “Ah, fuck it.” And he jumped off the Path, running towards the pair and quickly closing the short distance. “Sapnap! Big Q! Hang on!”

“What the—?!” Sapnap looked up as Tommy came running in, absolutely surprised.

“Here, I’ll chop it up, you pull,” Tommy said. Without waiting for confirmation, he raised the hoe over his head and brought it down on the vine, making sure not to aim too close to Quackity. The diamond tool took a large chunk out of the vine, which wriggled like it was in pain. Tommy kept going until he broke the vine, severing it.

Sapnap caught on in time, pulling Quackity away from the remaining part of the vine. He helped him to his feet, and the three of them retreated to the Prime Path.

“Jesus fuck, this is insane!” Tommy said, throwing away the bit of vine he’d accidentally collected upon breaking it. “Are you two alright?”

“Tommy, what are you doing here?” Sapnap asked, a split second before Quackity shouted, “Tommy what the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Oh, well, you know I just saved your lives, you could say thank you,” Tommy commented. “But whatever. Listen, we need to get to the Subs, it’ll be safer there.”

“How much safer are we talking about? ‘Cause I don’t want to deal with this shit ever again.” Quackity pulled his arm free of the vine—unmoving now that it was severed—then unwound it from around him and threw it into the distance.

“It’s—look to be honest, I haven’t seen it, but Puffy told me to go there so that’s where I’m going,” Tommy explained. “She says this shit is avoiding the area so—what are you wearing, by the way?” The last time he’d seen Quackity, he was wearing his usual blue jacket and black pants. Now he had suspenders and a tie on. “Actually, nevermind, that doesn’t matter, are you coming?”

Sapnap and Quackity glanced at each other. “Yeah,” Sapnap said. “I mean, there’s not really anything else we can do now.”

“Exactly! Now come on! If either of you have hoes, now’s the time to get them out, they’re the things to cut through this.”

They set off sprinting down the Path. Soon, they passed by the UFO, now covered in vines that dangled from the edge down to the ground, and came close to the Holy Land. But instead of seeing the buildings in the distance, there was just—

“Is that a wall?” Quackity asked.

Indeed, someone had built a wall around the Holy Land. It was about ten blocks tall, much taller than any of them, and made of a bunch of different materials. Wood, cobblestone, stone bricks, a couple bits of obsidian. It looked like it had been smashed together from whatever someone had on them. The blood-colored vines were squirming around the base of the wall, but not touching it.

“Uh—hello?” Tommy called once they were in earshot. “Anyone in there?”

Someone appeared from behind the top of the wall, leaning down to look at them. Red and blue lenses reflected the light. “Tommy?”

“Jack!” Tommy looked up at him. “Did you build this?!”

“Uh, well it wasn’t just me, it was a bunch of different people.” Jack Manifold turned to glance back down at the ground on his side of the wall. “But yeah.”

“Well can you let us in, then?!” Tommy asked. He kicked away some of the vines on the ground that were trying to grab his feet.

“Uh—no, no I can’t, actually,” Jack said.

“What do you mean you can’t?!” Tommy repeated.

“Well if we take down the wall then the vines could get inside.”

“Yeah, and so could we!”

“Sorry, can’t risk it.” Jack shrugged. “I think you’ll have to stay out there.”

“This is ridiculous,” Sapnap said, pulling out his axe again.

“Yeah, we can just break in,” Quackity agreed, similarly taking out a pickaxe.

“Uh wait—” Jack Manifold started to say.

Too late. Sapnap and Quackity had already knocked holes in the wall and disappeared inside. Tommy quickly darted through as well before they could block the holes back up again.

The Holy Land was crimson-free, but crowded. SMP citizens of all sorts had crammed into the area before the walls went up, and were now standing around, some talking, others just silent. The vines outside inched closer to the new holes in the wall, but stopped just before reaching them, recoiling back. Sapnap quickly filled in the holes with cobblestone.

“What are you doing?!” Jack Manifold dropped down from the wall, wincing a bit at the impact from the fall. “You could have let them in!”

“Well we didn’t, did we?!” Tommy retorted.

“That’s not the point, what if they had got in?!”

“You know, they didn’t really look like they were coming in,” Quackity pointed out. “Tommy, what was it you said earlier? About how they were avoiding the Subs?”

“Oh. Yeah! Puffy said that the vines didn’t want to come into the Holy Land, they must not like it or something.”

“Well they weren’t coming into the place even when there was a way for them to,” Quackity pointed out. “You saw that, right? It’s like there’s a force field or some shit.”

“Well—tha-that’s not—” Jack Manifold spluttered. “What about you three?!”

“Huh? What about us?” Tommy asked.

“The vines are part of the Egg, right? And the Egg’s thing is, like, corrupting people.” Jack folded his arms. “You could be under its control!”

“You think I’m going to listen to something as stupid as an egg?” Tommy asked. “I don’t even—listen, Jack, they tried to get me to like it, they like took me down into the room, and I didn’t feel o-or hear anything at all. It’s just nothing to me.”

“Oh really?” Jack looked doubtful. “Even if that’s true, what about these two?”

“I’m not throwing in with some dumbass Egg!” Quackity protested. “I haven’t even been here recently!”

“Yeah, you really think we’d do something like that?!” Sapnap added angrily. “After seeing what it did to Bad and Ant?”

“I don’t know!” Jack threw his hands in the air. “Maybe! I don’t know anything about this!”

It wasn’t long before the four of them devolved into overlapped shouting. People nearby gave them sideways glances, then as the argument went on, blatantly stared. A few started looking around, unsure what to do. More people came to see what the commotion was. Some pulled out weapons just in case a fight broke out.

“What’s going on here?”

The argument calmed down a bit at the interruption, and Tommy looked out at the crowd, now noticing how many people were nearby. And now he recognized a couple. It looked like Eret and Fundy had managed to get inside the Holy Land before the walls were built. “Oh, it’s nothing, really—”

“Yeah, Jack’s just being a little bitch,” Sapnap added unnecessarily.

“I’m being a-a-a—!” Jack stammered. “I’m being careful! We can’t let the Egg inside, and if any of you are on its side—”

“Wait, hang on a second, Jack,” Eret interrupted. “Doesn’t the Egg cause color changes in whoever it’s controlling?”

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s blue to red and red to white, right? If that was the case, wouldn’t Tommy have red eyes right now?” Eret pointed out.

“Yeah!” Tommy immediately jumped in to agree. “Exactly! Do my eyes look red, Jack?”

Jack paused for a noticeable amount of time, then reluctantly admitted, “No.” Another pause. “But!” he continued. “Quackity’s wearing a red tie! And Sapnap never had any blue or red to begin with!”

“Hey why don’t you leave him alone?!” Sapnap snapped. “Quackity wouldn’t join the Egg! And if we’re going by not having any colors in the first place, why don’t you kick Fundy out?”

“Whoa whoa wait a minute!” Fundy spoke up for the first time. “Why are you bringing me into this? I’m just standing here.”

“Hmm. Standing there suspiciously,” Sapnap commented.

“Wh-wh—you just—I—” Fundy stuttered.

“Nobody is kicking anyone out,” Eret said, raising their voice a bit. “We can’t do this now, with all those vines outside. Unless we have proof that someone is part of the Eggpire, we’re not going to make them leave. Everyone got that?”

The others all muttered their agreements.

“Hey, does anyone know where George is? Or Karl?” Sapnap asked, looking around the crowd that had gathered to watch the argument.

“I...haven’t seen them, but you can always go look,” Eret said carefully.

“Okay. Yeah. Quackity, c’mon, let’s go do that.” Sapnap reached for Quackity’s hand, only for him to pull back. He looked over at him, confused.

“You can go ahead, I’m just...I’ll just chill here,” Quackity said.

“Um...yeah, sure. I’ll...meet you back here.” Unsure what else to do, Sapnap stepped away, then eventually disappeared into the crowd.

“Well, boys, it’s been fun,” Tommy said, swinging his hoe over his head and resting it on his shoulder. “But I’m gonna—I-I’ll—I need to go sit down somewhere. Somewhere else.”

“Yes, go ahead and sit down, Tommy,” Eret said softly. “We’ve been building a basement under the church to fit everyone, it should be mostly empty right now, if you want.” They pointed to their left, indicating an area by the back of the church.

“Right. Thanks. I’ll be seeing you all later.” Tommy walked off, following the direction they gestured to until he found a trapdoor. Opening it, there was a ladder leading downward. He climbed down into a wide stone room, lit by torches but otherwise empty. In a daze, he wandered over to the nearest wall and leaned against it, slowly lowering himself to the floor.

What...had even happened? Why was it happening? Why...now? He had plans for the day. He was going to finally close off this chapter in his life, but this...interruption...it left him feeling aimless. Like he’d been floating in the ocean holding onto a rope, only to find it suddenly severed. What was he supposed to do now?

With similar questions spinning in his head, he slowly fell asleep again. 

=====================

Tommy woke up a little bit later, confused until he remembered dozing off. He stood up, wincing. That hadn’t been the most comfortable position to sleep in, and left him feeling stiff. A walk would probably help with that.

The stone basement was still empty, though someone had moved a couple chests into it while he was asleep. They were by the ladder, so he peeked in as he passed by. Nothing much. A bunch of crafting materials like sticks and iron. A few tools and blocks. Dismissing it, he climbed up the ladder and out the trapdoor.

Everyone was still here. In fact, it seemed even more crowded. Most people were gathered inside the church building; a lot of them were hitting the bells. Some others were nearby, setting up chests, furnaces, and crafting tables. The sun was overhead, meaning it was near noon and a few hours had passed since he’d woken up that morning. The walls around the Subs were reinforced with another layer, and now had stairs. Actually, someone was coming down those stairs right now...wait a minute, that was Puffy!

Tommy almost called out to her, but stopped. She looked distracted...and worried. Once she reached the ground, she glanced around, then ran to the side. “Eret!”

“Hmm?” Eret was nearby, crafting something. Tommy saw them turn around. “Puffy! You’re okay!”

“Yeah, barely. My armor’s really damaged.” Puffy let out a long breath. “I came over here as soon as I could but it still took so long—is Tommy here?”

“Tommy’s here. Did you send him?”

“Yeah, because the vines don’t come in.” Puffy paused.

“How bad is it?” Eret asked grimly.

“Well the whole SMP is fucked, basically. They’re from the L’Manberg hole to Hannah’s house on one side, and from the castle to Skeppy and Bad’s house on the other. And I—I can’t find Sam.”

“You can’t?!”

“No, I think he’s in the prison. But the—the nether portal, the one leading in there—it’s broken. All the vines are wrapped around it, I think...I think they shattered it.”

Eret went quiet. “So he’s just...stuck in there?”

“Yeah. But...I guess on the bright side, the vines haven’t spread across the ocean. In any direction, I mean.” Puffy shrugged. “Maybe they don’t like it.” She looked around the area. “So this is everyone.”

“This is everyone,” Eret agreed. “It’s...small. But I’m glad anyone got out of that mess at all.” They paused. “The question is...how we’re going to get out of here.”

“We can think about that in a bit,” Puffy said. “Let’s make sure everyone’s alright first. I grabbed as much food as I could, and some seeds so we can farm if we need to.”

“Oh good idea. We’ve been making a basement, come on, I’ll show you.”

The two of them turned, and Tommy panicked, running around the other side of the church before they could see him. He wasn’t sure why; he just didn’t want them to know he was listening. They might get mad.

It’s funny, really, that the prison was now sealed up. No, wait, that wasn’t the right word. More like...ironic. If he’d actually gone there today like he’d planned to, he’d be trapped in there. And that was the absolute worst thing he could imagine.

Though...this was bad, too. Granted, it was better than being in the prison, with access to the sky and no blackstone and...much better company. But still. The vines were surrounding them on all sides. They couldn’t leave without risking the crimson snatching them up.

They had to come up with something fast. Or else they’d be trapped in here forever.

[lauraashley93]

I don’t love you anymore

Part 2:

This is part 2. Don’t worry, there WILL be a part 3 but I just felt this was getting REALLY long and I wanted to continue it so it wasn’t SO much. So, please enjoy part 2 :)

Reader is trying to move on after her and Angel’s break up. But are either of them really truly happy? Will they find there way back to each other?

Warnings: angst? Swearing? Brief Mentions of suicide.

A year.

It’s been 365 days. You don’t know how long a year is until you spend a year missing something, no, someone.

You thought moving would help. You moved back to your aunts house 2,000 plus miles away. Thinking that maybe it would help you move on. It didn’t. You felt there was no closure. Even though Angel had said everything to you, you felt that there was more to it but instead of trying again you ran. You ran and ran and now here you were still just as miserable as you had been because even though it was hell loving him, it was heaven when he WAS loving you and now you were stuck. Not moving forward and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay. Was he regretting it? Was he sad? Or was he off to the next one living like you never existed. You pushed that thought from your mind. You didn’t want to think about it. A knock at your door suddenly interrupted your pity party as you looked up.

“y/n?” Are you awake? You aunts soft voice came from behind the door. You sighed. You know you have been worrying her. From being okay one minute to being a drunken mess the next she always seemed to be waiting to see what roller coaster you’d be on.

“Yes, you can come in aunty.” Your voice didn’t have that happy song anymore. Everyone could tell and no one knew how to fix you. Your aunt came in and sat on your bed.

“Y/n, I want to talk to you. Please, don’t be angry but I think it’s time for you to leave. You have been here a year and whatever you’re trying to run from it’s not helping. You need to go back and face whatever it is and close those doors. You are going to drink yourself into a early grave. I love you darling and I’m always here for you but I can’t watch this anymore. You need..

“Stop.” You cut her off. You never opened up to your aunt about what happened. You wanted to shut and lock the door and never speak of it again. Your aunt respected that but apparently you were becoming too much. You couldn’t blame her, honestly, you knew you were a mess and it was only gonna be so long before she grew tired. “I know, I know I’m a lot. But please, don’t give up on me just yet. Please... I just. I gave the wrong person the right piece of me and I’m broken.. I’m, lost. I thought leaving would fix it and I want to tell you I’m fine and I’m over it but I have this HORRIBLE habit of forgiving people when they aren’t even sorry...and I’m still in love with him and if I go back I’ll look for him, I’ll be the pathetic ex trying to crawl back to him and I just.. I can’t. I don’t even know what happened. He just woke up one day and decided he didn’t love me anymore. He finally seen I wasn’t good enough. ”

You start crying as you realize that after all this time that you still love that idiot that ignoring it and hiding it was a mistake and you should have opened up a long time ago. You finally told your aunt what happened from start to finish and she held you as you cried.

——————————————————————-

Angels POV

Back in Santo Padre things haven’t been going very well for Angel either. He’s been a walking disaster since you left him. When you left the first two months he wasn’t sober. He drank from the time he woke up until he laid down and if there were anymore tears to cry he would have cried too. Bishop had let it slide knowing he was going through it but after it almost got him and Gilly killed he finally put his foot down.

—-Flashback 2 months after—

“I HAVE FUCKING HAD IT” Bishop slammed his hand down on the templo table and the sudden noise made Angel flinch. All the other Mayans staring at him seeing what his reaction would be.

“I get that you’re going through some shit but damnit Angel you almost got you and Gilly killed and I can’t have that shit happening. You fucked up brother. Face it, get the fuck over it and move on. If you can’t get your shit straight you’re out. I can’t be having you risk our lives over some pussy.”

Angel’s face turned red. He was livid that Bishop would even DARE talk about you like that. Yes, Bishop cared about you but he had to get through to Angel and he couldn’t play around his feelings anymore. Angel stood up with a quickness leaning toward his president anger growing faster with every passing moment.

“Don’t you EVER fucking talk about y/n like that. Or I’ll”

“Or you‘ll what Angel? “ Bishop is standing nose to nose with him obviously not intimidated. Angel needed to realize he needed to get his shit straight and Bishop was gonna make him see that one way or the other.

“You ain’t gonna do shit, Angel. Now sit the fuck down. Go get your dick wet, hit it out in the cage do what you gotta do today but then it’s fucking done. I don’t wanna see or hear about you acting this way anymore.”

Angel glared at him a few seconds before nodding and storming out of templo and heading to his bike. He needed to ride. He needed to get away and think. How dare he. How could he just expect you to get over y/n like that? I mean, sure you did fuck up but if you could have just explained it you were sure she would forgive you.. you hoped she would have forgave you.

Back in the club house Bishop stopped Ez to talk to him.

“Have you had any luck at all?”

Ez sighed. He had been trying for two months to find you or find where you went so he could talk to you to tell you to come back but he came up short every time.

“No, I can’t find anything. I don’t know where she would have went. She didn’t talk family much. All I know is her mom is a junkie and her dad died years ago. There’s no brother’s and the only sister died in a car crash when y/n was 16. The mom has a sister but she’s completely off grid and so I can’t find shit on her. “

Bishop sighed “keep trying. We gotta figure something out.”

—-Present Day—-

It’s been a year and Ez hasn’t stopped trying to find you. He has watched Angel mask his hurt long enough to do shit with the club and then melt back into his depression and drinking when at home. He’s worried about his brother and he’s determined. So he does the only thing he can think of, he reaches out to Emily Galindo. Maybe, just maybe she can find what he needs.

“And what do you suppose I tell Miguel? Huh? That my ex boyfriend needs a favor? You already know how he feels about our past Ez. Even us meeting here” she motions to Felipes shop “is dangerous!”

“I know, Em, I know but I don’t know what else to do! Angel needs her to know. I don’t even know if it will fix anything but he NEEDS this. Can’t you tell him it’s a friend of yours that you have lost contact with? Or something dealing with work??”

Emily sighs. She knows she can’t say no to Ez, especially under the circumstances.

“Fine, I’ll try.”

———————————————————————

—two weeks later—

You’re wiping down the last table at the diner you work at and about to close up for the night. Friday nights are so busy but it’s your favorite because it brings in the most tips. You weren’t sure you were gonna like moving out to the middle of no where but, it had its perks. After talking with your aunt you felt a little better. You still missed Angel but you figured you owed yourself a chance at happiness. You were grabbing your things when you heard your phone vibrate. An unknown number calling. You simply ignored it thinking it was a spam called until it rang again immediately after the first call, the same number popping up. You furrowed your brows and decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

——————————

—back at the club house—

Ez couldn’t believe it. Emily had found a way to get information on your aunt and she called her telling your aunt that you were an old friend. Your aunt was excited. She thought this would help get you out of your funk. She gave Emily the number they had under her husbands name. Ez seemed impressed by that. No wonder he couldn’t find anything with your name attached to it.

He called the number while the club was having a party. Angel was drinking and trying to distract himself with one of vickie’s girls so Ez took this time to step out to make the call holding his breath... he was disappointed when it went to voicemail so he tried one more time his heart stopped when you picked up and he hoped and prayed you would give him enough time to explain.

“Y/n. Please don’t hang up.”

———————————————————————

Your heart stopped. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. How? Why? Was everything okay?? You were trying to find your voice when your heard Ez on the line.

“Y/n are you there?”

You blinked rapidly as you swallowed hard.

“I’m here” Your voice came out in a whisper. You cleared your throat and tried again. “How did you get my number? Why are you calling?”

“Y/n I’ve been trying for a year to find you. I’ve been trying since the day you left.”

You scoffed anger starting to fill you. “YOU? YOU have? Why? Angel obviously isn’t the one trying so why do YOU care?”

“Angel did. He was gone for two weeks riding trying to find where you went. Then when he couldn’t figure it out he came back and has been a depressed drinking mess since. He barely functions.” Ez said rushing through his sentence.

Your heart was being drug all sorts of directions. Part of you was happy that he was just as miserable as you, but you were sad. You never want him to hurt. Then, you were confused. Why? Why did he feel that way? He claimed he didn’t love you so why would he be hurting?

“Why? Why does he care? He made his feelings VERY clear about how he felt about me. I have spent a year hurting, Ez. I have went through all this shit myself. My aunt has watched me drink myself away, had to talk me out of ending my life” your voice broke. You hated to admit how weak it made you sound but you wanted them to know what you had been through because of him.

Ez’s heart was breaking. He knew that it had hurt you but he didn’t realize just how much damage had been done, maybe it was wrong for him to open up an old wound but he had to try.

“Look, I know I have no right. I know I have no idea what you’ve been through but I’m trying to tell you that he lied, y/n. As soon as I left your house I told him how stupid he was and he thought hurting you was gonna keep you safe if you weren’t with him. So much shit was happening with the club and in his mind he was doing the right thing for you but as soon as you left I think he realized saying all that, was wrong. he hated himself. He went right back to the house to tell you but you were gone. He loves you. He needs you.”

You were breaking down. You wanted so bad to believe Ez but you just couldn’t do that again. Even if Angel was lying he broke you, he said things to you that has changed your whole entire world. How are you supposed to come back from that?

“Ez, I, I can’t. It’s taking me a long time to be okay. Trying to live without Angel was like drowning but I just wouldn’t fucking die.. and I’ve finally learned how to breathe through it and here you are, pushing me back under and I can’t, I just. I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“Y/n, I understand but if you..”

Ez stopped and you were waiting for him to continue..

You heard shuffling and then you heard it.

”y/n? Is that you??”

The voice that brought you to tears. Angel. You felt dizzy. Probably cause you weren’t breathing. Your anxiety was building and you did the only thing you could think of... you hung up.

———————————————————————

—-At the clubhouse—

Ez was listening to you talk and he knew you were about to shut him off. When he said your name he heard Angels voice.

“Ez? Whose name did you just say?” He practically ran toward you. Ez tried to hide the phone and Angel took it from him.

“Y/n? Is that you??” He heard the line click.

His heart shattered. He stood there phone in hand shaking.

“Angel?” Ez stepped toward his brother.

“How long have you been talking to her?” His voice was raspy trying to hold back anger and tears.

“Just today. I have been trying to reach her and that was the first time i have spoken to her.”

Angel nodded and sighed as he shoved the phone back at Ez’s chest and started to walk away.

“Angel! Angel come back man.”

But it was no use Angel kept walking ready to drown himself in alcohol. It had been too long and hearing your voice brought back so many memories. Ez sighed in defeat wondering how far this was gonna set Angel back and hoping he hadn’t caused more damage to his brother or you.

@angelreyesgirl @auroraariza @spookys-girl @trulysuccubus @stunning-shitz @rosieposie0624 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @skyofficialxx @strawberrywritings @bucky-iss-bae @miss-nori85 @cind-in-real-life

[think-blot]

Timeless (Klaus Mikaelson x F!Reader) Pt. 1

Summary: For centuries, Y/N has been Klaus’ well kept secret. An innocent soul that cherished him despite his short comings, that loved him no matter the monster he became. She was his, he was hers, and he wasn’t keen on letting that go. Of course, that kind of love is perfect leverage and the Salvatore brothers have just learned about her existence. 

Word Count: 3534

A/N: Beyond excited about this one and I hope you guys like part 1! I’m not sure how many parts it’ll be but I like where it’s going so far. Enjoy ;)

PT. 2

 -----------

    There was a house in the middle of what once was an empty field. He had told her it would be and, despite her doubts, standing right in front of her was exactly what he had promised. It was bigger than she could ever possibly need and she hadn't even stepped foot inside just yet. He had a habit of spoiling her it seemed. A rush of wind brought the man to her side, his sudden appearance no longer shocking her the way it used to. It was quite thrilling if she was honest with herself. "Are you satisfied, love?" He was a charming man, his smile enough to threaten her strongest of principles. Her mother must be rolling in her grave as she stood in front of him with her bare feet on the ground.

    "It's far too much, Niklaus." She was always radiant when she smiled, the sight enough to warm even his cold heart. It was unfair to say that he had taken her, though he was sure that's what the village thought once they found her empty bed. The truth was he had grown quite fond of the human. She saw him in an innocent light that he swore had left long ago. He wanted to keep that and he didn't have to compel her to do so.

    "It is just what you deserve." There's no hesitancy when she takes his hand, onlookers no longer around to judge at the simple act of affection. He tugs her gently, opening the door to more than just a new home. It was a new life.

    The inside took her breath away. It was decorated as if she was royalty, the floor smooth underneath her with no fear of splinters and the walls decorated with paintings that she used to only dream of seeing. He let her go, smiling to himself at the wonder that was on her face as she moved from room to room. To him, it was modest living, but she reacted just the same as the first time he took her to his family's manor. He planned on keeping it that way.

     "Did you paint these for me?" She stared at a face she only ever saw in the river, her own eyes unblinking with a coy look that only Niklaus has seen. She had never posed for him and yet the resemblance was so uncanny it distracted her from the grand fireplace that it hung above. Her young heart told her it was love.

     "Some. Others simply came to fruition." He was behind her, admiring the way her heart picked up as his breath ghosted along her neck. "You haunt my mind far too often, love." He whispered, nosing his way to the vein that seemed to pound with her nerves. He pressed his hand to her waist, the touch the closest the two have been in the time they've known each other. It was easy for him to find a common whore or a snack, he didn't need that from her. She was something else to him and, to some degree, she knew that.

     "Will it hurt?" Her words were almost a whimper as she waited with bated breath, unsure whether she was more excited or nervous about what was to come. He had promised her the world on a platter and it was finally time for him to deliver.

     "Not for long." His voice became rough as he pushed her body back against his, the movement practically forcing his teeth into her soft flesh. She had expected a scream to echo through the woods but all that came was a gasp as she felt the blood leave her body. He turned her around with a flick of his wrist, blood staining his smile as he looked down at her. "Are you ready, my love?" He purred. All she could do was nod. He kissed her like they had been married for years and the world wasn't there to simply judge their sin. It was addicting. He reminded her of sharks she once saw a fisherman pull in from the water but as she watched him bring his own wrist to his mouth, she knew he'd never be caught as they had. He cradled her head as she suckled at the wound, looking up at him with such innocent eyes as his blood stained her insides. "It'll be you and I, love. And when the time comes, we will rule." He whispered against her hair, staring at the painting instead of focusing on what had to be done. "My Queen, Y/N." With a snap, she fell into his arms.

-------

    In the beginning, she was only allowed to feed from him. She wasn't sure how long it lasted, time something that was compelled away from her from the very first day, but there came a time where he couldn't continue his visits. He was nothing if not paranoid and if an enemy learned of her whereabouts, hell would be a welcomed experience. This led to his presents. Whenever the hunger started to fester in her gut, a human would find themselves lost at her doorstep with a gift from her beloved in their hands. It made her heart soar and her eyes turn blood red every time. Though her sweet cottage seemed to be timeless, it was through these visitors that she realized time was changing. The raggedy dresses and scuffed feet slowly morphed into harsh silhouettes and too tight clothing. The amount of skin shown was enough to make any woman faint but she was only ever intrigued. There was no need for much clothing at her home, outfits only changing from day to night and whether she was going for a walk or gardening. Yet she found herself stealing the clothes off her guests before disposing of them for her forest friends.

    She was wearing a sundress in her garden when she sensed a presence. She stood gracefully, brushing the dirt off her with a calm despite the stranger on her property. "Who are you?" She still held her old accent, her gifts never speaking long enough to adopt anything new. The man seemed shocked at seeing her as if she was the one intruding and not him. He was well dressed; wearing a tuxedo despite the harsh sun above them, and she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps she knew the man.

    With a speed she'd only ever seen in one other man, he suddenly stood in front of her. "Remember me."

     She blinked, confused as her mind fought against the centuries of repressed memories. "Elijah?" Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him; the joy from reuniting with him outweighing the knowledge that she was practically naked in front of a man that wasn't Niklaus. "Where have you been? Niklaus was quite worried for you last I remember." She pulled away, finally noticing the state of dress she was in. "Is this acceptable now or shall I go change?"

     "You're overdressed compared to the people out there, Y/N." He smiled softly at you, gesturing for the two of you to head inside. You immediately headed towards the kitchen, excited to use your new tea kettle and stove for someone besides yourself. "And as for my brother, he had kept me asleep for almost a century until he needed my assistance again."

    To some degree she knew the outside world was nothing like the one she had left behind. But to hear a century had passed without her knowing, it was startling. "Has it truly been that long since I last saw him?" It felt like just yesterday that Niklaus had sat with her by the fireplace, humming a tune as she combed her fingers through his freshly cut hair. She wondered what he must look like after so long, whether his hair was still touching his ears or if he adopted the short style so many men wore that passed her door frame.

  "He's quite apologetic about that. The small ounce of humanity he has these days is used towards you." She puffs with pride at that, glad that she wasn't forgotten despite what some may think. The kettle cut through the comfortable silence between statements, reminding her that Elijah was a guest and not just an informant. "He wanted me to check on you."

     She paused as she stirred the tea cup, the act of care seemingly foreign from her Niklaus. "Someone is after him then?"

    Elijah didn't know whether to smile or sigh, instead just taking the tea with thanks. There was a reason his brother adored her so passionately and it was moments like this that made Elijah see why. "He's close to breaking the curse."

    Immediately, her eyes lit up. She adored living in her cottage, loved the presents and fresh air, but Niklaus being free meant she would be as well. She could see the world for what it currently was, maybe even feel a day pass by. "Does that mean you are staying? I can't imagine Niklaus offered as much."

    Elijah did laugh then, "No. no. Just checking on you. Making sure no one has come that shouldn't have."

    She nodded, somewhat lost in thought as she continued to stir her tea. With the presence of the elder original in front of her, thoughts that left with his presence were coming back. "Elijah, may I ask you a question?"

    "I will do my best to answer."

   "He has only taken time from me, yes?" She doesn't meet his eyes, the guilt of doubting Klaus causing her heart to sink to her stomach. He had explained his reasoning for it so perfectly, she had never questioned it for a second. She didn't want to learn that the reason she didn't was because he didn't want her to. "He hasn't compelled me anymore, has he?"

    "Not that I know of, Y/N." She nodded, still lost in her thoughts and the new emotions that were spiraling in her head. It wasn't that he wanted her to be perfect, he just wanted her to be happy in his inevitable absence. "He'll come to visit soon. I must be leaving." Elijah was gone before she could say goodbye. It wasn't until she was washing his cup that she realized she could still remember he had even visited.

   Later that night, with only the moon to judge her through her window, she let her questions of the world flood her mind. Niklaus had spun stories of what would happen when he was free of his mother's curse, of the army he would build and lead with her by his side. She was never one for violence or gore but if it meant being by his side in broad daylight with more than just the forest as witness; it was worth it to her.

     She woke up to a silhouette in her room. It was far too soon for her to be receiving another gift and far too late in the night for Elijah to be back. "Niklaus, I do not appreciate your scares, darling." She mumbled into her pillow, eye barely open as the shadow danced around her room. She blames the sleep that still plagued her mind for not seeing soon enough that it looked nothing like her lover. Or that it disappeared before she could raise her head again. "Niklaus?" A rush of wind caused darkness to bloom for a different reason than the night and no matter how hard she tried to fight, it was useless. She was taught to be happy and caring, never taught to fight or protect. There was a poke at the side of her neck, next to the scar Niklaus had left so long ago, and instead of pleasure coursing through her veins all she could feel was pain. When it became too much, the slight burn turning into a wildfire in her borrowed blood, her body shut down, allowing the shadow to take her from her home.

-----

    She wasn't fond of the quarters she was being held in. It was small and…dirty, she hardly wanted to get up from her rusted chair in fear of stepping foot on the disgusting floor. Niklaus had truly been spoiling her if this is how the people lived these days. Far away, she could hear unknown voices arguing and the fact that she couldn't hear their words clearly caused her to worry for her ears. When she couldn't break free from the chains around her wrists, she realized there was more to be worried about than her hearing capabilities. The arguing abruptly stopped in favor of footsteps that were getting far too close for her comfort. She remained calm, even as the small window of the door snapped open to reveal eyes she's never seen before. She tilted her head, "Hello. Who may you be?" The eyes widened slightly before the window closed and she was left alone once more. "Bit rude." She mumbled, straining to hear the whispers on the other side of the door.

    "How long has he had her?" One whispered, pity coating his tongue even at such a low volume. She always hated the dreadful emotion.

    "They had met a hundred years or so after we were created." She knew that voice, better said she remembered that voice.

    "Elijah?" Betrayal choked her, causing the words to come out strained and far from ladylike. He winced at the sound, focusing on the brothers in front of him instead of the woman behind the door.

  "She's no harm to you, the chains are unnecessary." He cleared his throat, adjusting his suit in favor of not having to think about his actions. His job was to look out for his brother; this was a part of that. "I will warn you that once he sees she's gone, nothing will be able to stop him from getting her back."

  "We'll drain her by then." The word drain caused panic to course through her though it felt muted despite the circumstance. Perhaps Elijah knew more than he wanted to admit when it came to her and Niklaus. She couldn't see how this was the correct response instead of simply telling her.

    The door opened, the two unknown voices left and Elijah long gone. The one with brown eyes and an apologetic smile was the first to step forward, acting as if she was a wounded animal and not a captive. "He won't be happy with you."

    Blue eyes laughed, darker than his counterpart yet she was less offended by him. "We’re counting on it, sweetheart."

    Her eyes practically popped out of her head at the nickname, Niklaus forbidding anyone from being so crass with her. She struggled in her chair, uncomfortable all of a sudden. "It'd be best to let me go. I don't like seeing him hurt people."

   "I can't believe this." Blue eyes chuckled to himself, looking at the other man like she had said something outrageous.

    "I'm sorry about my brother, he can be…rude." Brown eyes looked at her as if she understood the sentiment. Niklaus was never rude towards her, even as he told her stories about daggering his siblings he said it in such a sweet tone it almost seemed like just that; a story. "My name's Stefan. That's Damon. We're here to help you."

   "I'm not in need of any help, thank you." Damon, as he was called, was getting far too close to her.

   "You are." Stefan grimaced for a second, the expression warning her of what was about to be done. "And I'm sorry."

-----

    He had come bearing good news, a smile on his face that the sun could only hope to rival. It had been far too long since he saw his queen; the downfall of New Orleans, his only home, leading him to protect the one thing he still had. Her. And as the years turned into decades turned into half a century he realized the only way he could be with her was if he was free. He threw himself into finding a way to break his curse then more than ever, vowing he wouldn't return unless he was sure it could be done. Now, not only was he sure but it was practically done. He could imagine her face as he told her, the pride that would swell in her chest as she hugged him in celebration. He wished nothing more than for her to be there when the time came and, when imagination was no longer enough, he decided to get her.

    The smell of flowers overwhelmed him as he stood at her doorway, her love for gardening never dying as the years went by. He knocks on the door only to be polite, she was never a fan of being surprised with his presence. "Darling, open the door won't you?" There's a slight timber in his voice, something she could never resist after hearing especially after such a long time apart. Her mind might not know the years that passed but her body certainly did. When there was no response, the door not opening to reveal her beauty to him, he huffed in aggravation. He adored waking her up but only after she had fallen asleep with him next to her. Otherwise, it was a nuisance. The fact that the door was unlocked didn't alarm the original, she was never a paranoid soul and the only people she saw were those he sent to her. "Wake up, love!" He throws his jacket towards the living room towards a lounge chair that had always been there but it falls to the ground with little noise. He was too focused on seeing her to notice the knocked over furniture. "Y/N, you couldn't possibly be this tired-"

    There's a stark silence as he looks at the scene in front of him. Her bed is unmade, the side left for him uncharacteristically messy with the blanket pooling to the ground. The mattress was askew, almost titled as it hung off it's frame. If he did not know her loyalty like his own mind, he would assume she had a lover. He turned, finally seeing the trail of damage that she had left as she was torn from her bed; fingerprints dented into the doorframe next to his head. Someone had taken her from him and she had fought with everything in her. If the anger hadn't already consumed him he might have felt pride. With clenched fists he stalked around the cabin, looking for any hint of whoever dared to steal his queen with bloodied eyes. He screamed  until there was no more breath in his lungs, the rage he felt only building with the sound, and he hoped the brothers could hear it from where they were. A warning before death knocked down their door.

-----

    She had stopped screaming when the last drop of blood had left her now scarred body. Stefan may hate the sound but Damon seemed to revel in it. She may not have much power but she could take away the satisfaction he got as he shoved fire down her throat. She wasn't sure what it actually was but the burn it left behind seemed never ending and, soon, all she could do was sit and wait. He would come for her, she knew it somewhere deep inside her.

    There's a somewhat gentle slap on her cheek, jostling her head from one side to the other, "Wake up, princess, we got some questions for you." Y/N opened her eyes the slightest bit, glaring at the blue eyes that stared back at her. "There we go. Now, where did Klaus snatch you up?"

    The sight of a living statue walking towards her flooded her mind, her heart beating just as wild as when she first saw him. "Greece." She mumbled without realizing, lost in a past life that felt like a dream. The haze that clouded her mind dissipated quickly as she realized what she had said to the brothers. She had meant to scoff, maybe even gain the energy to roll her eyes at the cruel men before her. She didn't even hesitate to tell him, she could hardly remember the last time that was the case. "I'd like to go home now."

    "You sure?" Stefan speaks for the first time since she was captured, slumped against the doorway. It must've been days since then. "You're free to go if you want, he doesn't control you anymore." She lifts an eyebrow in confusion, ready to defend Niklaus in a heartbeat, "Before you go, we can show you around. Let you experience 2011."

   His words give her pause.  "2011?"  His nod is lost to her as she tries to understand. Ten centuries she's been alive and all she knows is him. For the first time in her life, she feels negative towards her lover. He had stolen time from her and she was too in love to see the injustice it was to do so. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the decision before her, "May I have something to drink first?" 

------

[jeromesxreader16]

Such A Joker (48)

Part 47 Here!!!

~o0o~

"Alright Ms. Gordon, this is going to be a bit cold.'' The doctor places the gel on my stomach. Barbara holds my hand smiling.

"and there it is." I watch the doctor point at a small dot. "wait. What is that?" Barbara asks squinting at the screen. "Ah, good eye Ms. Keen. Congratulations (y/n), you're carrying twins." I look at Barbara gasping. "Twins." Barbara smirks and covers her mouth. "I guess this is what happens when you get with two brothers!" "Hush Babs! That's not how it works!"

The doctor smiles as we watch the two dots dance alongside each other.

~

I walk into Jeremiah's office smiling at the photo of the babies. "And right here we can use the commanded wire so it will transfuse- darling - you're back." I look up in a daze seeing Bruce and Jeremiah both in the office working on the project.

"Oh! I'm so sorry to interrupt! I'll come back, boys." Bruce shakes his head. "No, no, Ms. Gordon. Please." Jeremiah walks over with a kiddish grin. "How is it?" I smile at the picture before handing it over to him. "They are just fine." "They?" Jeremiah stares down at the picture showing the two babies. "Twins, Jeremiah." He smiles engulfing me in a hug. "Mother always said twins are better because you have double the love." I laugh rolling my eyes.

"Congratulations, (y/n). On the engagement and the child." Bruce says hugging me. Jeremiah shrugs placing an arm over Bruce's shoulder. "I may have told him earlier."

~

I knock on my dad's door tapping my foot. "(Y/n)!" He opens it hugging me tightly. "Hi, dad!" I enter sitting on his couch. "I'm just watching the game. You want a beer?" I shake my head, placing my hand on my stomach unconsciously.

"What's that?" "What?" My father picks up my hand with my engagement ring. "Oh! Actually what I came to talk to you about. Jeremiah proposed. Can you believe it?"

My dad scoffs, "Son of a bitch." "Aren't you happy?" "Are you sure you want to do this, (y/n)? Marriage is a big step. Then you'll start a family, and you don't know the first thing about how to raise a child. I just think you should slow down a little." I stare at Jim with disbelief. "Slow down? That shouldn't matter if I'm happy with him, dad."

"I know you like him, and he is a good guy, but are you sure he's the right one? His brother was a-" "He is nothing like Jerome!"

Jim shakes his head, sighing. "I think you should rethink this." I stand up walking to the door. "Is it your plan in life to kill my happiness? You can't control me anymore. I shouldn't have even told you." I open the door exiting the home as my father calls out for me into the Gotham sky.

"Who needs him."

~

Late into the hours of the AM, I awake by the sound of laughter echoing through the halls. I reach for Jeremiah only to find his spot empty. "Uh oh. Better check on him. Make sure he hasn't gone overboard!" Jerome laughs as he covers up in his brother's spot in the bed.

I follow the echo towards the living room and upon entering I see Jeremiah sitting in front of a camera and applying makeup with a mirror.

"What are you doing?"

Jeremiah turns to me patting his face with my beauty blender. "Do you just take all my things?" "What's yours is mine, darling."

I look down at the table looking at the different things spread out. I pick up strips of false skin and look at Jeremiah. "What are you planning?"

He looks at me and sighs pulling out a colorful notebook. "That is Jerome's." He nods humming. He opened it and pushed towards me showing me a crazy plan to terrorize Gotham.

"I've only taken ideas from him here and there. He's far too insane for anything to work. Look where it got him. He was obsessed with killing me, Bruce, and Jim Gordon."

I huff rolling my eyes at the mention of my father. "Yeah, he had a habit of pissing people off." Jeremiah smirks at me as I speak poorly of Jim. "Read through it. You've played in this game before. I want your advice."

I read the whole plan twice over before looking up at Jeremiah smirking.

"You're going to throw a wake for Jerome at the GCPD?" All while you are what?" He nods putting on the fake scars. "Wait, babe. You're crooked." I move, helping him apply the fake face of Jerome.

"I need those crazed fans of his to handle the chaos while I get some things done for the future. They're my distraction. I need you in the GCPD making sure it plays out." I smirk patting the foundation on his face.

He smirks up at me and shrugs. "Once you start to show I need to keep you safe throughout this process. It's going to be messy, darling." He chuckles looking in the mirror.

"Ecco could be your sidekick after I'm out. She can wear my stuff." Jeremiah smirks, grabbing my wrist. Turning to face me with his icy eyes. "Trust me, love. I've got everything laid out. She's already agreed to stay by our side, love."

Jeremiah sits at the camera composing himself. "Ready, Jer?" He nods, closing his eyes and giggling.

"3... 2... 1... ACTION!"

~

"Ecco, tie me up will you?" She rushes behind me tightening the back of the black top. "You look amazing." She says smiling at me from over my shoulder. "She does, doesn't she?" Jeremiah smirks from his seat as he gazes at me.

Ecco clears her throat backing away emotionless. "You have everything you need, love?" I stand in front of Jeremiah pulling out the recording, megaphone, and my gun. "Locked and loaded, baby." He grins nodding at me. "Such a good girl." He snakes his arm around my waist and walks me out to my motorcycle.

"Now I want all three of you to be safe." Jeremiah places his hands on my stomach kissing my forehead. "So cheesy." He smirks at me smacking my bottom quickly. "Get on the bike. Mrs. Valeska, and come home quickly. Your husband will need you."

~

I roll up as the leader of the gang is speaking full-hearted words of my lost lover. "Brothers and sisters, let's raise a glass to our fallen leader. To Jerome!"

"To Jerome!" They chant, then spit on Jerome's grave. I giggle stepping out. "To Jerome. He will be missed. Certainly by me." The gang giggles and looks at me questionably.

The leader walks up to me looking me over. "This affair is invitation only." "Hm. Well, I have to say I'm a bit upset you didn't invite me." I remove my mask and they all gasp. "Ms. Gordon!" "It's her!"

The leader gasps getting on his knees. "I am so sorry! I meant no disrespect." I scoff rolling my eyes. "Stand up. I've got something to say."

"The Queen shall speak!" Followers help me upon a grave acting as a small stage. I lift the megaphone and recorder playing the message. "Why so sad, bozos? Did you think they could get rid of me so easily? Well, okay. So, they did. I'm dead, but let's not dwell on negatives. I have one last party to throw. But first, on the to-do list, dig me up. Dig me up!"

"You heard him!"

"Come on, clowns! Dig him up!"

"Get Jerome!"

I laugh at the idiots giving the direction to invade the GCPD bright and early.

~

I walk into the GCPD, passing the investigation room, and seeing Lee of all people. I laugh walking to meet my father yelling at Harvey.

"Get out of here." "What?" "I don't need that crap thrown in my face right now. Get out of here!" I walk up laughing. "Wow, mad because your ex got arrested? Tough case."

"(Y/n). What are you doing here?" I shrug sipping my coffee. "I was in the neighborhood. Can't I stop by and see my father? Or are you still mad at me for being happy?" Jim looks down avoiding eye contact. "Can we please not do this here?" "Want some help then?" I walk in the door of the investigation room before Jim can stop me. I turn to Lee smiling, "Hey there, lady. I've heard you've been having some real fun."

She looks me over grinning as she analyzed my frame. "(Y/n), I wasn't expecting you. Your... glowing." I wink at her sitting in one of the chairs.

My father walks in sitting down across from her heatedly. "What the hell, Lee?"

Lee raised her brows, "I don't suppose this is where anyone expected our story to end." "So, it's ending?" "Hard to imagine what's left."

My father sighs, "I wanna help you." "How?" "Give up Nygma." I gasp slamming my hand on the table. "You and Ed? Oh my gosh! So cute! How about this. You could just return the money, right? We can ask the DA for supervised probation." Lee shakes her head. "I'm not betraying my friend."

"They can call you "the Doc," you can rob banks, fight gangsters, but I know you. You're Lee Thompkins. And all this, this is just a... A way of helping people. I understand that. Who doesn't want to be Robin Hood? But you're still breaking the law."

"Jim, you wish you could do what I'm doing. Helping people without the straitjacket of the law? As if the law means anything in Gotham. Look at your daughter free and running around after she committed murder." I glare at her. "I've got my sane papers to prove it, T."

"You want to send me to Blackgate? Go ahead!" Lee challenges loudly. "I don't want to send you to Blackgate! It's the last thing I want to do! Don't you know I wish I could let you walk out that door, turn my head."

I look at my father tilting my head. "Then what's holding you back, Jimbo? Maybe if you'd let her go, you'd let yourself go, too. You could let me go." Jim furrows his brows fighting with himself.

Suddenly the tension is split with knocking on the door. Harvey pops his head in, "Sorry to stick my face in your business, but something just came up."

I walk into the big office stealing the chair at the desk. "What's this all about?" "Your ex-boyfriend twice over has just granted us with a gift. Any clue on what it is?" I shake my head playing along. "How could he have planned this? You don't think he might still be alive, do you?"

Harvey turns to Mr. Fox, "What were the autopsy results, Lucius?"

"Dead when he came in, more dead when he was eviscerated, and his brain was sliced up."

The screen on the TV focuses and Jerome appears on the screen. "Hello, Jimmy! If you're watching this, things must not have gone well for me. Shucks! I know my dear, doll is crying herself to sleep in my brother's arms. I can only pray, I gave as good as I got, and left ample carnage in my wake. But I don't want to fixate on disappointments. Jimmy, I have one last teensy request for you from your ole late son in law. I want you to throw me a wake at the GCPD. Don't worry about the guest list. I've already sent the invitations."

A car horn sounds loudly outside and the rumble of the gang outside rises. "I don't like the sound of that," Harvey says looking around the room.

"Lockdown everything, now! Everybody listen up! Lock it down! Lock it down, now!

The mod bangs against the door risking the chance of invading the GCPD. I look over the panic of the cops biting my lip. "What are we going to do? We need to hit them! Get them away from here." I say frustrated.

"We're not. We're going to let them in." Jim says, making me look at him wide-eyed. "Have you lost your mind, dad?" "(Y/n), you know how Jerome works, dead or alive. He uses distractions." I look at the door that is about to bust wide open to the freaks on the outside. "We're just going to let them come in and party?"

Jim nods gathering us around. "This wake is just intended to distract us, while his followers hit the real target."

"Which is?"

Well, we're never gonna figure that out if we're inside, fighting off these maniacs, are we? Look, they come in the front door, right? You fall back, get a few shots off, make it look good. Meanwhile, the entire precinct sneaks out this old service door as quickly as possible. Once we're outside, we surround the building, cordon it off." I smirk at my father's plan. "You're trapping them inside!"

"Correct. They blow off some steam. We hit 'em with teargas, and knock a few heads."

"There is the issue with figuring out what the real target is. Got a plan for that, dad?"

Jim smirks. "I do."

~

Jeremiah POV:

"I didn't think you could get the generator program working so quickly," Bruce says admiring the tower. "You ready for a demonstration?"

"Okay, you hit that switch there, and the facility will be disconnected from the power grid." Bruce flips the switch on the wall allowing the tower to take over the power ridge completely.

The generator hums lowly and glows, seconds later the lights in the building return and the tower is stable. "Ambient energy. No cables or wires of any kind. It's clean and stable. Harvested from micro tremors and air density shifts, it's... It's virtually without costs." I hum looking over my work.

"And with the prototypes at Wayne Labs, we can power all of Gotham?"

"You've kept this project a secret, yes?"

"No one outside of Wayne Industries knows it exists."

I mumble walking towards my desk. "It's the ones who are closest to you that you have to keep your eye on. I know better than anyone." I pull out Jerome's diary chuckling to myself. "Arkham Asylum sent me Jerome's personal effects, and amongst them, I found his diary. It's a catalog of his fantasies and goals. Every twisted vision he ever had." I turn a few pages seeing the horrific drawings.

"Maybe you shouldn't spend so much time reading it." I nod, "(Y/n) says that too. He was obsessed with torturing and murdering me, James Gordon, and you, and if he had been just the least bit sane, he would have destroyed us all. And Gotham would be in ruin."

Bruce walks over placing a hand on my shoulder. "Your brother's dead, Jeremiah. It's time for you to come out of this bunker and join the world. You'll be a father soon, and you can't expect your kids to have their father living underground."

I shutter and nodded in agreement. "Yes. Yes, he's dead. I still have trouble believing it."

Bruce picks up his phone suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Alfred. I'm on my way." Bruce faces me again, "Lunch plans... That was a lie."

"You're lying to me, Bruce?"

He sighs, shaking his head. "You're right. I'm sorry. It seems some of Jerome's followers are causing trouble." I shutter in panic. "Oh, my God. I was right."

"No, Jeremiah."

"I was right. He's not dead. Bruce, he's not dead. He's alive, and he's coming after me and (y/n)!"

Bruce grabs my shoulders holding me steady. "Jeremiah, easy, easy. You're not thinking clearly. Come on, this isn't like you."

I sigh looking at my friend letting everything play out. "Bruce... Bruce, I need to tell you something. After Jerome died, he left one last final trap for me and (Y/n)... He sprayed both of us with his insanity gas." Bruce backs away slightly.

"It's a special mixture just for you, brother," he said. I can't stop seeing him. Clawing his way out of his grave, coming for me, and even though I know it's not real, it feels real. And I can't control myself." Bruce nods coming forward again. "What if I could show you he's dead and buried?" "How?" "We go there, to his grave."

I shake my head frantically. "No. No, no, no."

"Jeremiah, listen to me. Your brother took away your greatest strength, your mind, and turned it into a trap. But if you can see the reality, you can be freed from that trap." I stare at him in hope. "You really think that would work?" He nods his head. "I do."

"Then I'll try. You're a good friend, Bruce."

~

The freaks in the GCPD cause chaos as we try to escape. "There's too many of them." I scramble on my feet down the hallway and into the locker room with my dad.

"We have to go!"

I race to the door only to be knocked down by a cult member. She smirks at me and I wink at her going along with our little act. "Hey, there little thing!"

"Well, look at us. We caught ourselves Captain James Gordon and his little girl! How fantastic!"

"Hi, guys." My dad grins at them.

"Don't try and get chummy with us, Gordon. We're gonna carve you up."

"Yeah, no, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to them." Jim says pointing behind us towards Harvey. "Hey, man, you like to dance?" Harvey tases them.

"Let's you and me talk outside, what do you say?"

They stuff the poor guy in the trunk and tase him every few minutes for an answer.

"Long live Jerome!"

Harvey groans, tasing him once more. "All right. One more time, sunshine. Did Jerome leave any other instructions?"

"I'll never- AH!"

"All right, look, this is how it's going to go. You're going to start talking, or I'm gonna stop caring whether you can talk, you got it?" He groans and nods looking at Harvey with fear.

"I'll talk! It's too late, anyways. They're already dead."

"Who? Who's dead?" I challenge with worry. He giggles and replies in a sing-song voice. "Jeremiah and Bruce Wayne." I shut the trunk frustrated.

"He can't be telling the truth, can he? Dad, if Jer is gone..." "Don't worry about this. I want you to go to your apartment, (Y/n). I'll bring Jeremiah to you. I'll go to the bunker." I nod sighing. "Be careful."

As I walk away from the GCPD I call Ecco. "It's a go. He's heading there now."

~

Jim POV:

"Bruce? Jeremiah?" I call out into the stone bunker. I walk into Jeremiah's office seeing the large generator creating a static buzz. The monitors on the wall turn on revealing a static picture of Jerome. "Hiya, Jimbo!"

"Jerome..."

"Ah! Don't bother talkin' to me. This is a recorded message, and plus, I'm still dead. Just more posthumous fun. Look, I knew you'd see through all those shenanigans at the station. I've given all my fans a script for them to follow. See, I wanted to bring you here. Oh!" Suddenly a gun is pressed to my head from a masked figure. "Don't mind her. She's just here to make sure there's no talking during the movie. And, trust me, you're gonna wanna pay attention, so the twist makes sense at the end."

Jerome laughs easily. Two hands reach around his neck strangling him allowing me a chance to fight off the masked women. Once battling her to the ground I remove the mask. "Ecco?"

Jerome goes limp on screen only to have him pop up on the other. He pulls his sleeves up smiling, "I tell you, suicide really takes it out of a guy." He pulls out a red cloth and wipes his face with it. "Huh. What's this?" Jerome peels the skin from his face smirking at the screen.

"No."

He holds the cloth over his face concealing his features. "Jerome is dead." He removes the cloth revealing a pale-faced Jeremiah. "Long live me." He speaks with a calm smirk as his icy eyes burn into mine.

"I apologize for the deception, Jim. I needed to ape Jerome in order to persuade his followers to throw that macabre celebration at your police station. They are a pathetic lot, but not without their uses."

Ecco gets up and exits the room locking the door in a split second. I pull against them in an effort to escape.

"Ah, sidebar, that is a self-perpetuating generator. It can store a phenomenal amount of energy. I would hate to be within a mile of it if it were to overload."

~

"Now do you believe I'm not your brother? Jeremiah, listen to me! Jerome's followers are doing this! Nothing else makes sense. He sent them instructions to torment you." Bruce cries out as I examine my brother's face. I scoff, "How fake. Yes, I can see quite clearly where you cut off poor Bruce's face, and stitched on your own. But I am a man of science. So, let's have some evidence, huh?" I pull out a knife lunging at Bruce.

"Let's go, brother. Let's pull off that grotesque facade." I giggle, swiping the blade at Bruce. He twists my arms and grabs me in a locked hold.

"Jeremiah! Do not let him turn you into him! Do not let Jerome win this battle! Think about your kids! Think about (y/n)!"

I giggle in his grip, "Jerome, beat me? That'll be the day."

The followers come out ripping us apart chanting.

"Long live Jerome! Long live Jerome! Long live Jerome!"

A member holding onto me yells, "Jerome is victorious at last!" I roll my eyes whipping my gun out from my sleeve and shooting him dead. Blood splatters on me as he falls and the yard grows silent. "Jerome victorious? Are you serious?"

I look down gesturing to his dead body. "He's dead. Haven't you been paying attention?"

I sigh pulling out a rag and wiping the olive tone cover off my face allowing my pale skin to come to the light.

I smirk walking over to Jerome and kicking him back in the grave. "I am the one who's victorious."

I turn back to Bruce and the cult smirking. "Look, Bruce, like everything Jerome set his mind to, his insanity gas failed. Other than some mild cosmetic effects, he might as well have sprayed me with water. You all need to see Jerome for the utter dud that he was. So, I donned the mask of madness to show you how feeble that is compared to actual greatness. Behold, the face of true sanity. But looks aren't everything. I have a compendium of Jerome's obsessions and goals. I will outdo every one of them."

(Y/n) stolls out reading Jerome's diary. "Jerome wanted to turn Gotham into a madhouse. But Jeremiah taught me to build something, you must first tear down what is already there. Start fresh." She smirks looking over the pictures.

"Jeremiah, the gas worked. Both of you are insane!" Bruce fights against the hold of the followers. "Think about it. You want to carry out Jerome's crazy plans sanely? What could be madder than that?"

(Y/n) steps up, pinching Bruce's cheek. "Madder? Bruce, you're so misled."

"May I, love?" I take the book from (y/n) turning to a page full of insanity fueled ideas. "Ah, here, for example. Jerome wanted to slather you in honey, and have you eaten alive by corpse beetles... Now, that's mad. Me, if I wanna kill you, I'll just do it. I'll shoot you in the head. Simply and sanely." I finish aiming my gun at Bruce and smirking. "But I don't want to kill you."

All the followers groan with disappointment. "Are you gonna listen, or are you gonna behave like children?"

"See, I don't want to kill you, because I wanna show you how much I've changed things. How much we've changed things. Because I could not have done any of this without your help." Bruce furrows his brows.

"My help?"

(Y/n) smiles leaning against me. "Should we tell him, Jer?" She giggles looking up at me. I kiss her head sweetly.

"I feel very indebted to you, Bruce. See, those generators that we built with your money... they work even better as bombs."

~

"That sound you're hearing. That is a very bad sound. One which, I'm afraid, makes you something of a guinea pig, Jim."

I look behind me seeing the generator buzzing louder each second. "Killing you will help secure the loyalty of Jerome's minions, but more importantly it will keep you out of (Y/n)'s life. Now, she doesn't know this yet, but it's for the better. And, well... That is that. Goodbye, Jim Gordon."

~

Suddenly an explosion goes off in the direction of the bunker. Jeremiah smiles watching the gas cloud. "That's one down. Jim Gordon is dead."

"What?" I look up at Jeremiah shocked. "You didn't tell me you were going to do this. T-That's my father, Jer." He sighs pouting his lip towards me. "Love, I understand, but he was never going to let us be together. Now, we can be a real family. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Aww, now, that's actually cute. Son of a bitch finally did it! Be happy he's not controlling your life anymore, doll!" Jerome's voice flashes in my ears.

I gulp looking in the direction of the smoke. "I think I'm more upset about our home."

Jeremiah smirks looking at me. "I've set us up, darling. Don't you worry. Everything important was moved last night."

Bruce fights against the follower's hold. "(y/n), how could you do this? He is your father!"

Jeremiah waves his hand, hushing Bruce. "Sorry, Bruce, but progress requires sacrifice."

"I'm going to stop you." Bruce sneers. I sigh, shaking my head. "I really hope you don't try. I would hate to have to kill you. In fact, I can honestly say, you are my very best friend." I walk over hitting him over the head with my gun, and throwing him in the grave with my brother.

I wrap my arm around (Y/n) walking away from the graveyard. "Well, that was fun." She said giggling. I smirk holding her close. "Yes, it was, love. Long live us."

"Jeremiah! Jeremiah!" The followers chant behind us as we file out. ~

Ecco follows behind us as (Y/n) and I walk down the dark hall towards the generator base in Wayne Enterprises. "Good evening, gentlemen." I speak waltzing towards them.

"Hey there, Mr. Valeska. You and (Y/n) alone or is that Mr. Wayne behind you too?"

"No, Mr. Wayne. She's just a little help."

(Y/n) pulls out a gun shooting both men dead. "Nice shot." Ecco praises her as I open the doors revealing the many bombs. I grin overlooking my projects. "Look at these. The gifts of true friendship. Ecco, let's load them on the trucks. It's time to give Gotham City its new face." I pull (Y/n) to me smiling. "It's time I build a city good enough for my Queen." I place my hands in her stomach getting jitters. "And for my heirs."

[dastardlydandelion]

Billy having the bust appendix episode?

so i combined these into one thingy??

also the latter, uh, it's. like?? i played w ur prompt, dude, chose to focus more on the concept of "not lasting" w susan and max tho bc if i write neil for too long it'll inevitably turn into another murder fic.

ao3 link

content warnings: referenced/discussed abuse, brief suicidal ideation

“Day four of fever, fella. That’s no fun.” Susan sets the thermometer aside with a frown and brushes the back of her hand over his cheek.

Billy blinks slowly at the touch. It wasn’t that long ago that he would’ve pushed her away. He hasn’t exactly enjoyed having the Stomach Flu From Hell for the better half of the week, but he supposes if there was ever a time to get sick, it’s now. Because these past few days have been the last few days he’s ever going to get with Susan and Max. He can use being sick as an excuse to let them get close like this. He can let himself let them close without feeling defensive or embarrassed because after tonight, he’ll never see them again.

“I feel better,” he mumbles as she brushes his fringe back, pad of her thumb gingerly lingering over the nick in his brow. “Really, Sue, s’not as bad today.”

And it’s not. Today’s Wednesday and he’s been feeling shitty since Sunday night, sluggish and nauseous with a nagging stomachache. He managed not to puke up Sunday dinner until Monday morning, although he didn’t actually make it to the bathroom. Susan scrubbed it out of his bedroom carpet even though Billy told her to leave it. Max stayed home from school to keep him company, which really…genuinely meant a lot to Billy, considering skipping school meant sacrificing some of the little time remaining with her friends. And she did it to just to hang out with his sweaty, grouchy, probably contagious and definitely less sociable self.

His stomachache got worse throughout the day but he hadn’t said anything about it to anyone. Didn’t say anything on Tuesday either, even though by evening it hurt so fucking bad it was like there was an invisible knife carving into his guts, blade twisting so terribly the only thing that helped at all was curling into a fetal position. Billy was almost frightened, actually. He doesn’t believe he’s ever felt worse than the torture he went through Tuesday, not even at his father’s hands.

But he couldn’t say anything. Not with everything going on. He wouldn’t do anything to possibly compromise the plan. Couldn’t let himself do anything that could delay their escape. So he sucked it up and kept his mouth screwed shut, endured in silence.

The relentless agony of nonexistent knives twisting through his guts kept him up all night. Then very early this morning, just as the sunrise’s first rays began to lighten the sky, the pain subsided. Billy still feels uncomfortable and he’d probably hurl again if he got a whiff of goat cheese or canned sardines, but it doesn’t compare to the misery of last night.

“How about I put the kettle on? Ginger tea is good for stomach bugs.”

“Nah.”

“What about chamomile?”

“No.”

“Peppermint?”

“Stop, Sue. I don’t want tea.”

“Please. You’ve barely kept anything down all week and you’re sweating like a turkey at Christmas. You’ll feel even worse if you get dehydrated, Billy.”

Susan retracts her hand with a fretful noise in her throat and turns to the door. With a sudden spike of panic that she’s— she’s leaving —he frees an arm from the blanket and grabs her wrist. Susan jumps as though she’s touched a hot stove. Billy immediately lets go. He wasn’t thinking.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Susan, I just…”

Chewing her lip, she nods down at him. She carefully sits on the edge of his bed, one leg folding on the mattress, opposite foot still on the floor. She takes his face in her chilly hands and Billy heaves out a sigh.

“I wish things were different,” she murmurs. “If the, uh…if the p-place Max and I are going accepted boys your age, you’d be coming with us. I promise I’d take you with us if I could.”

The shelter doesn’t allow male children over age twelve, Susan had informed Billy the night she told him they were leaving. She’d said it apologetically, eyes sorrowful like the look she’s giving him right now. She’s said it like it scraped her throat on the way out, tragic and grave as though she were reading him his own obituary.

It was the oddest thing Billy couldn’t begin to comprehend. He wouldn’t go with them even if going with them was an option. And never had he ever expected it to be an option. He doesn’t understand why Susan is looking at him like that.

“I just grabbed you. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Susan’s face twitches like he’s the one being weird, like it isn’t she who’s looking at him with all these things he never wanted from her.

“You didn’t hurt me, Billy, just startled me a bit. I’m as skittish as a doe and of course today is…it’s a big day.”

“…what time?”

Susan spares a glance to his door. Still shut. Neil’s getting ready for work and he wouldn’t dare enter Billy’s room right now anyway. Wouldn’t risk catching whatever Billy has. He’d sent Susan in the bathroom Monday after Billy had barely stumbled out, wan from the latest round of purging, in drill sergeant mode and demanding that Susan bleach every contaminated tile.

“Noon. I want to drive in the daylight. Max is staying home from school. I told your father she caught your bug.”

Billy raises a brow.

“She didn’t,” Susan clarifies. “But he didn’t question the excuse. She’s sleeping in, I think it’s best to let her sleep in. It’s a big day.”

“Big day,” Billy repeats quietly.

Susan’s hands are still on his face, gentle and cool. Billy feels hot. The past few days he’s felt too cold or too hot, no in between. He’s either burrowing under the blankets to ward off the icy chills or laying on the bathroom tile to ease the sensation of roasting in his skin.

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay? You don’t have to drink it, but I’d appreciate it if you did. Fluids are important, Billy.”

Susan slides her hands off and Billy wonders if perhaps that’s the last time she’ll ever touch him. She leaves his room. Quietly closes the door behind her. Billy rolls onto his side and wraps his arm around his stomach, wondering if he should’ve let her closer before. If he should’ve let Max closer too.

Maybe it’s better he didn’t. Maybe losing them would hurt more if he did. And it does hurt. Even when the minutes tick down to the time they will exchange their final goodbyes, he’ll never say it out loud, but it hurts. It’s going to gut him when they go.

But it’s good that they’re going. And it’s good that he’s not. Billy ensured early on that Susan knew never to act like his mother. And Susan never seemed particularly passionate about trying, maybe there was even some relief for her that Billy had shut down every feeble attempt, that she never had to claim him. Billy never asked for Max either. The responsibility of a little sister. The pressure of having to set a good example for her, more reasons for Neil to be pissed at him whenever he inexorably failed. Max thought he was cool when they were younger, then there was that really rough patch after the move, and now things are better.

Things are probably the best they’ve ever been between him and Susan, between him and Max, and he’s going to miss them. Billy wants them to leave. Billy wants to be left. But the separation, the severing, the knowledge that he will never see them again pounds his heart like brass knuckles. He’s never going to watch Susan take another spider outside in a tissue, humming her weird little singsong. He’s never going to have to groan and roll his eyes over being Max’s designated chauffeur to the arcade, the park, the monster movie matinee.

He’s going to be alone with Neil.

Susan brings Billy a ceramic mug of steaming tea. She feels his forehead and probes at the sides of his neck, humming in concern. He would never let her fawn over him without a fight on a normal day. He’s only receptive now because he knows they aren’t going to be in each other’s lives anymore. He doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he kind of likes the fawning, but maybe he wouldn’t— maybe he wouldn’t like it at all if she wasn’t leaving, maybe the leaving makes it special. Or maybe it’s easier to think of it that way than to wonder if it would’ve been better to have this kind of relationship all along.

Billy watches the steam rise from the mug. He doesn’t touch the tea. He’s exhausted and he finds himself drifting, dozing off…

When Billy blinks his eyes back open, he’s dismayed to find his stomach hurting again. It might actually be the stomachache that wakes him up. Either the stomachache or Max in the doorway, hand on the knob.

“Are you awake?”

“I am now.” Billy begins to push himself up on his elbows, pauses when his gut lurches.

So much for that plan.

He settles back, and rolls onto his side, tucking his knees up to his chest under the blanket. Some of the pain abates. This position is still the winner.

“Are you okay?” Max rests her hand on the mattress, cocking her head to the side. “Do you need the trash can again?”

“Nah.”

“Okay…My mom’s loading up the car.”

“Yeah?” Billy really hopes she isn’t here to ask him to help. If she does, he will, but just the idea of rolling out of bed sounds like a grandiose effort.

“Yeah. Can I hang out for a little bit?”

Something thick rises in his throat. “Sure thing, shitbird.”

Max climbs onto the bed and over Billy, jostling him enough to make him queasy. She sits at his back. He can’t see her but he feels her hand settle on his shoulder.

“Your room smells like gym socks and barf,” she remarks, scowl audible in her voice.

“When you catch this from me, your room’s gonna smell the same way,” he mutters. Only after the words have left his lips, does Billy really realize what he’s said.

Max’s bedroom here on Cherry Lane isn’t really her bedroom anymore. Susan’s putting her belongings in the car. The next time Max gets sick, maybe it won’t be in a bedroom of her own at all. Or it will be her bedroom in a house far away from here. It’ll be a room Billy will never go in and he’ll never have the opportunity to tease her.

“I’m kinda nervous about the shelter, Billy,” she admits, voice quiet and unsure. “I was nervous when we first moved to Hawkins too. But this is a different kind of nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Billy mutters. “You’re gonna be safer there than you are here.”

“Supposedly,” Max huffs. “You know Neil’s going to be pissed when he finds out. What if he comes after us?”

“I won’t let him,” Billy declares, meaning every word.

“Could you really stop him?”

Billy curls a little tighter in an effort to ease the pain spreading through his stomach. It’s beginning to be more than a nuisance but he’s doing his best not to be distracted. Max needs him right now. This is the last time he’ll ever be an older brother. That’s more important, that’s the thing he needs to devote his attention to. He never asked for the job and he hasn’t been exceptional at it, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to soothe his soon to be ex-sister’s worries with her small hand shaking ever so slightly on his shoulder.

He cranes his neck back to meet her eye and flashes a winning grin he hopes looks less forced than it feels.

”Let’s put it this way, he’d have to kill me to get to you.”

Instead of being reassured, Max looks spooked.

“I really thought he was going to, you know. That night.”

Ah, that night. Billy knows which. He was feeling pretty ballsy, feeling strong and bold after a good workout and a couple of beers. When Neil got in his shit that night, for the very first time, Billy threw a punch.

He remembers thinking that things would go in his favor if he could just get Neil to the ground. That’s the last thing he remembers, actually. Thinking that. And maybe it really would’ve gone in his favor if he’d gotten Neil down. But he didn’t.

Billy doesn’t actually remember what happened. But it definitely wasn’t that.

“He wouldn’t really go that far, Max. Neil talks a big game, but I’m all he’s got and he knows it.”

Max doesn’t seem convinced in the least.

“I think that’s what made Mom decide we had to go,” she says quietly. “That night.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Billy says, tone sharp.

Max glowers, clearly disagreeing. Billy matches her stare.

“…I wonder if there will be other kids my age,” Max murmurs eventually, changing the subject.

Evidently neither of them want to argue their remaining time together away.

If there are kids her age, they’ll be girls, like Neil always wanted. No boys over twelve permitted stay. Billy shifts his head back, eyes sliding from Max and off to the wall. He’s starting to feel Tuesday night’s painful sort of nausea. Like his guts are going through a meat grinder.

“It’ll suck if I’m just surrounded by adults the whole time. However long that’s gonna be…Mom wouldn’t say.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know yet, Max.”

“Maybe not. She’s trying to keep her cool but I can tell she’s nervous. Even more than me and I can’t let on that I’m nervous at all, not to Mom, because then she’ll really flip her lid. She tried so hard to convince me everything will be okay at the shelter. She’ll feel like a failure if she knows I’m scared and Neil’s already made her feel a failure over and over. I won’t do it too.”

This is the last conversation they’re ever going to have. This is the last time they’re ever going to talk to each other. Max is on the precipice of another massive move to somewhere new. All the secrecy and uncertainties surrounding it make it all the more of a transition and Billy’s last job as her older brother is this conversation. He’s trying to focus on it, on her, but the pain in his stomach is growing more insistent.

“Billy?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”

Billy curls his fingers in the bedsheets and silently begs for it not to get any worse. Not now. Max is leaving, Susan is leaving, fuck it— his fucking family is leaving and he can’t do this right now.

“…uh…yeah. I’m gonna get out of this Hawkins dump as soon as I can. And I bet you and your mom will find somewhere for yourselves better than this dump too, without Neil steering the wheel…how about, five years from now, we meet up in Cali? At least you and me, Sue can come too if she wants.”

Billy doesn’t think she would. Things have been better between him and his stepmother, yeah, but. He knows what he is. And Max— Max too, really. She thinks she’ll want to see him again now. Things have been better and maybe there’s even a part of her that still thinks of him as her cool big brother, but when she gets some distance, she’ll get some perspective and neither of them will want anything to do with him anymore. By then he’ll just be one more ugly part of an ugly life, the wayward offspring of the enemy.

By then he’ll be nothing but a reminder and no one wants reminders.

Max hums thoughtfully. “Yeah. We could do that, right? I always wanted to go back to San Diego…”

She squeezes his shoulder and Billy shuts his eyes. It’s getting harder to ignore how awful he feels. His whole body sagging with the overall illness laying him low. The torrent of nausea washing over him even though he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything left to puke up. The vengeful reprisal of the invisible knife, carving into his guts with a silent wrath.

“…does that sound good? …Billy?”

“What?” He blinks rapidly.

“The zoo, sick brain.” She huffs a little and gives his shoulder another squeeze. “In five years, let’s meet up at the zoo. In the gift shop where you stole the lion keychain.”

“Hey, you remember that.”

“You stole a gag giraffe toy for me too, the squishy one. When you squeeze it, the eyes pop out.”

“Pfft, yeah…I said, ‘look, it’s your mom’ and slipped it in your backpack.”

“I still have that giraffe, Billy,” she continues, voice determined. “I’m bringing it with me. I’ll look at it every day so I don’t forget our meeting place.”

Billy doesn’t really feel like talking anymore. He just wants to shove his head under the pillow and sleep it off, sleep it out. Wake up when his stomach isn’t being stabbed and his heart isn’t being strangled.

It’s a shining fantasy, that’s all. A fuzzy, glowing thing that will never happen. He’s just playing along for Max’s sake.

“What day, Max?”

“I was thinking the Fourth of July. You dad always made sure the fourth was the biggest Hargrove household holiday.” Billy can hear her roll her eyes. “Neither of us will ever forget that date, not even in five years.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Sounds good. We’ll meet again at the San Diego Zoo gift shop in five years, on the fourth.”

“Pinky swear?”

Moving makes the pain worse. Any movements, even small ones.

“Nah. My hands are all sweaty and contagious, you don’t wanna touch ‘em.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m not getting you sick, Max,” Billy states firmly. “You’ve got enough going on.”

There is a pregnant pause.

“I really do,” she says eventually, her tone wary. “I hate Neil. But leaving him means leaving you and my friends, and going somewhere with a bunch of total strangers who have their own Neils who might come after us.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“It could! Stranger things have happened! Stranger things happen all the time!”

Max smacks her hands together and does something with her arms that shifts her weight and in turn, shifts the mattress. The minute movement multiplies the knives and the stabs, and Billy agonizes, grinding his molars against a hiss as those knives in his gut twist so hard he’s already seeing fireworks.

“What’s wrong?”

It hurts so bad. This isn’t the flu. Billy doesn’t know what it is, but it’s definitely not the flu.

“Billy?”

Christ, is he dying?

“Hey.” The back of Max’s hand rests against his cheek, smaller and warmer than her mother’s was, fabric bandaid under her knuckles now protecting that scab she wouldn’t stop picking at. “Geez, you’re burning up. Are you dying?”

He’d gibe back at her if he wasn’t seriously evaluating this possibility. He momentarily considers telling her that he is, that it’s so fucking bad it’s like knives. Then he blinks and Susan’s here, half-in-half-out, one foot over the threshold of his bedroom, the other still in the hallway.

“Time to go, Max.”

Max inhales sharply above his ear. Billy composes himself. He clears his throat and does his best to keep his voice steady.

“You heard her,” he mutters. “Get your ass outta here, lemme sleep this off.”

Abruptly, Max’s weight flops over his torso, arms squeezing. She’s hugging him. She’s hugging him and the pain is so bad it’s blinding. Billy traps a scream between his teeth, burns with shame as the tears spring to his eyes. He can’t bring himself to uncurl enough to push her off. He can’t bring himself to uncurl enough to hug her back.

“Germs,” he manages to grate out, hoping it’s enough.

Max’s arms unlatch and she climbs down from his bed. Billy’s head spins with reeling pain and nausea as she trots across his floor for the final time. She stands at her mother’s side, no longer his responsibility.

“Bye, Billy.” Max’s lips twitch in a sad smile, her hand raised in a halfhearted wave.

Susan steps aside to let her through and lingers for a heartbeat, frowning at him.

“I hope you feel better, Billy…”

“Your tea was bitter,” he gripes even though he hasn’t taken a single sip.

Susan’s eyes sharpen. She sees something, Billy isn’t sure what. Her lips part but he speaks first.

“Please get out.”

So he can cry. So he can scream. It hurts, he hurts. His stomach, his heart. It’s horrible, he’s horrible.

Susan bobs her head and obliges, making herself scarce. Billy hangs onto the sound of steps getting further away. He doesn’t let the tears fall until he hears the door close and then he’s smashing his face into his pillow to smother his sobs in cotton stuffing. Forces himself to stop because crying’s making it worse, much worse, his shoulders are hitching and moving is anguish.

Something is so very wrong.

Billy can’t even think around its wrongness. Last night the pain was sharpest in his side but right now it feels like his whole stomach is burning. He shifts even slightly and his stomach burns with white-hot pain but he’s so cold everywhere else.

Billy lies still and curled and quiet, impatiently waiting for it to get better. If he doesn’t move, it should get better. Curling like this helped last night and then this morning, the pain went away.

Will it go away again if he just keeps waiting?

He’s already waited so long.

Will it come back even worse?

Could it get worse?

That’s a stupid question, everything can get worse. If there is anything Billy has learned in his life, it’s that there’s no real rock bottom. It can always get worse.

That shove will turn into a slap. That slap will turn into a punch. That punch will multiply into many punches. The opposite arm will lock around your throat so those punches can keep pummeling the breath right out of you and the night you think you’re gonna punch back—

No such thing as bad as bad gets, no limits, maybe if he really is dying, it’s for the best. Maybe dying is the best goddamn thing that can happen to you in a world where invisible knives slicing into you and screams shriveling like dead leaves—

(everyone leaves, doesn’t matter if it’s autumn)

—behind your chattering teeth could very well be the least of your suffering. It hurts so bad he can barely breathe.

Billy forces himself out of bed anyway. He always gets up even when he doesn’t want to, but today he’s outstandingly bad at it. His organs must be pureed from all the silent stabs and his legs buckle under him. His hands fly out when he falters, ceramic mug knocked off his nightstand.

When the tea spills on him, it’s cold and Billy’s confused because it’s supposed to be hot tea. Then he’s confused at his own confusion because no fucking shit it’s cold now, it’s been out for hours.

How many hours?

When did Susan put the kettle on?

How long has Susan been gone, Max in tow?

It feels like an eternity but Neil isn’t home yet, so Billy knows that’s not true. He has no idea what time it is, but he knows he’d know if Neil was home. Neil makes his presence known. Neil doesn’t set foot in this house without immediately staking claim to everyone’s attention.

Everyone?

There is no everyone anymore. Just Billy and Neil now. Billy got out of bed with the intention of finding his keys. Driving himself to the hospital. Because it’s been hours, how many he isn’t sure, but enough of them to mean he needs to go to the hospital. Go to the zoo?

No, he— he can’t go to the hospital.

He could make himself get up. Demons slice their claws through his stomach with every chill that wracks his frame and garble their guttural taunts right into his ears but he could get up. He could but he won’t, he knows better.

If Billy goes to the hospital, they’re going to call Neil. It’s a small town. Someone will know who he is even if he pretends to be too out of it to say. Someone will know he belongs to Neil and then Neil will be called. Then Neil will find out even sooner that he’s been left, and he’ll get mad, and Billy doesn’t know what he’ll do with the anger but it won’t be good.

Max and Sue need as much time as they can get, as much distance between him and his dad as possible before he finds out. He’s going to find out but they got a head-start and Billy won’t sabotage that. It’s better for him too, in case Neil decides to turn the rage his way. Neil takes responsibility for jack shit, he might even decide it’s Billy’s fault they're gone, because he got left behind to blame.

Billy could make himself get up but he won’t. He just pulls the comforter off the bed and over himself on the floor. It’s so bad he could writhe but that too, would make it worse. He’s waiting to watch a demon claw its way out of his stomach, like that scene in that one movie he watched with Max.

It wasn’t the last movie he watched with Max. Billy doesn’t remember the last movie he watched with Max, the last movie he’ll ever watch with Max. He’s never going to see her again. If he dies here on the carpet, he supposes he’ll never see anyone again.

Crying about it won’t help. Crying doesn’t solve anything.

Something is making a horrible yowling sound. There’s a stray cat in the neighborhood, it must be right outside his bedroom window. Or else it got inside somehow, it sounds so close. Its cries sound so wretchedly human.

Billy isn’t a brother anymore, he has demons twisting their pitchforks in his stomach, he’s too cold to catch his breath, and his cheeks are very wet. He doesn’t have any time or energy to chase around a stray cat, to stop it from making a mess.

Billy does not die on the floor. When his father comes home at first his yells are angry and then his yells are fearful. He calls an ambulance and cradles Billy close until it comes.

Billy loses himself in the whirlwind of activity that follows. He gets poked and prodded and jabbed, and someone blessedly takes his pain away but Billy doesn’t know who because everyone’s faces blur until they all look the same. He has too many white blood cells and not enough hydration.

Dehydration, that’s deja vu. But it’s not Susan talking about dehydration this time even though he wishes it was. He wishes it was?

Yes. No. She needed to get out. Max needed to get out. Billy has too many white blood cells and not enough hydration, and his fever’s so high they might as well bake cookies on him and— and if his mother were here, she would like that one, yeah, he definitely got his dry wit from her. Sardonic snark is right up Mom’s alley. But she had to get out too, everyone has to get out.

Except Billy. He’s fine. Well, he’s not fine, apparently he needs surgery, but he doesn’t need to escape. One day he will, but he doesn’t need to. It’s not a necessity. No matter what Max saw That Night he doesn’t remember, Neil would never kill him.

Neil would never, ever kill him. Billy is his only legacy. Piss poor legacy from Neil’s standpoint, sure, he’ll never let him forget it. But nonetheless, it’s the only one he’s got. Billy may blow his brains out when he gets bored of his twenties (if he even makes it that far) just to spite the bastard because he doesn’t want to be his good-for-nothing piece of shit legacy, he never asked for that.

But now is not the time to begrudge all he didn’t ask for, now is the time to count backwards.

“Dad?” Billy calls into the quiet nighttime of the room, blinking fuzzily at the figure slumped in the chair beside his bed. His throat feels like sandpaper, he swallows with an effort and tries again. “Dad?”

Neil stirs this time, eyes brightening, alert on Billy. “I’m here. Do you need something?”

Billy pauses. “M’sick, right?”

“Sure as shit you’re sick,” Neil huffs, eyes narrowing. “Almost lost all three of you in the same day.”

The words bounce around Billy’s skull.

“Susan left me,” Neil continues slowly, anger shimmering like hot coals underneath the veil of weariness. “All her stuff is gone, she took Max too. I don’t expect you knew anything about that?”

“No, sir,” Billy denies. “I thought they went shopping.”

“No. They certainly didn’t go shopping. They cleared out and left us behind. No explanation, no letter, not even a note.”

So it’s ‘us’ now, huh?

Billy widens his eyes, does his best to seem surprised as he attempts to sit up. Then he really is surprised, first at how awful of an idea that is, and then at realizing the blanket covering his hospital bed is one from home. One of Neil’s, fleecy and worn.

“Grabbed a few things from home. Needed something to do to keep my mind busy. You were on the operating table twice as long as they told me you were gonna be, Bill. Scared the hell out of me.”

“…why?”

“I’m told your appendix ruptured before they opened you up and that complicated things…you’re gonna be here for a little while, bud.” Neil gently rubs his shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

He answered the wrong question. Billy wasn’t asking why it took longer, he was asking why Neil was scared. But he doesn’t correct him. He swallows and hopes Max and Susan are safe. He wonders just what time they got to wherever they were going. Susan never shared the location or ever alluded to the distance from Hawkins. He hopes there were no mishaps along the way, no flat tires or fender-benders, or murderous traffic in backed up lanes.

“Not a baby,” he mutters. “Not gonna bitch about a stupid stomachache.”

At that, his father raises a brow. He gives a shake of the head and his hand leaves Billy’s shoulder. He makes a low noise in his throat that almost sounds like approval and covers Billy’s forehead with his hand. The heel of his palm is calloused and Billy knows he’s been hitting the bottle when the unmistakable scent of warm beer wafts over his nostrils.

“Well, it’s just us now, tough guy. You need to speak up if something’s really wrong, capeesh?”

He said it again. Us. They’re an us once more. Billy tiredly lifts his hand, bracing his elbow on the mattress to give his father’s forearm a squeeze.

“Yes, sir.”

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Seven): Flying Towards An Early Grave

Notes: Still posting my little backlog, I will warn in advanced, the next chapter is the heist (finally) AND IT IS A CHONKER, but for now have a little appetizer with some fun times, smut, and foreshadowing!~

Word Count: 10860

Chapter Warnings: heavy foreshadowing, food, blowjobs, groping, protected vaginal sex, car sex

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V’s body is heavy as she gets to her apartment door, ready to curl up into bed and call it a day. She’s exhausted with adrenaline gone. She presses her thumb to the panel. The little intercom doorbell is also the lock, scanning and searching for SID validation. It takes a moment to scan, it seems to be lagging more lately. 

Calling. 

The intercom says it’s calling, why is it calling? She can hear the automated ringing and her lights inside are probably flashing. It only does this if the SID doesn’t match the apartment owner’s, assuming them a guest. V presses again. 

Calling. 

She presses harder. 

Calling. 

She tries her entire hand.

Calling. 

She kicks her door, a heavy sound as her boot collides with it. That doesn’t help with the lock, but it makes her feel a little better. Just what she needs; bloody, sore, and locked out of her apartment for who fucking knows why? Her stomach growls as she pulls up the number for building maintenance. 

“Megabuilding Maintenance, how can I help?” 

“I’m locked out of my apartment,” V signs, her choker translator on. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The lock isn’t recognizing my SID.” 

“Can I get your name and apartment number?” 

V gives them the details and they say they’re sending a maintenance guy. All of the services floor is nearly shut down at the late hour, her stomach growling. No doubt the maintenance guy will take his sweet fucking time, so much for getting some decent sleep. She gets a burrito, a Nicola, and a little thing of ketchup from the machines. Sitting on the ground near her door, dumping ketchup on her burrito as she eats it. 

By the time the guy arrives she’s finished eating, drinking, and is a little unsure what’s dried blood versus dried ketchup on her shirt. She hops to her feet when she sees the guy walking up, a massive case of resting bitch face. V doubts he wanted to be dragged out at three am to help unlock a door, but it’s not her fault the tech fucked up. 

“You V?” he asks, voice gruff and annoyed. 

“Yep.” 

“Hard day?”  His eyebrow raises, gaze focused on her blood stained flesh and chrome. 

“Work.” 

“Ah… I see,” he nods, “so, what's the issue with your door?” 

Night City is one of the few places where one can just admit to being a mercenary for a living, even if it did earn her an odd look. V presses her hand to the lock button again and it once again initiates a call. 

“Doesn’t recognize my SID.” 

“Hmm, you are V, right?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Who the fuck else would I be? The building has a picture of me on file for fucks sake.” 

“Hey, hey, nowadays with enough eddies anybody can look like anybody.” 

“If I had an identity worth stealing, you really think I’d be living here?” 

“Fair enough, let’s check something,” he pulls out a holo tablet, jacking it into the bottom of the intercom lock, “this will show what the lock is reading it as, try again.” 

V keeps an eye on his tablet as she presses her hand back to the lock and the projected information starts to show. And for a moment she sees herself; her face, her name, her information, and all the shit Vik had to set up for her to have SID. Then in a blink of an eye it glitches out and the information shifts. She watches her nearly mugshot like photo shift into that of a man, with short dark hair and dark eyes. V [REDACTED] becomes Robert John Linder. Birthdate shifting from November 12th, 2056 to November 16, 1988.  Birthplace shifting from Seven Devils, North Carolina to College Station, Texas.  

Who the hell is this old man? 

“Looks like it’s reading your SID chip as someone else's, strange, any chance you’ve been spiked by a ‘runner?” 

“No, even if I was, not sure why they’d want to make my SID register to some senior citizen.” 

“Weird, can’t think of how else this would happen? Seems like it starts to read your chip and then changes to this guy’s. Do you know him?” 

“Don’t hang around old folks homes too much, actually. Just some random dude to me.” 

“Hmmm.” 

“I can promise you, I’m not a ninety year old cowboy man.” 

“Somehow I noticed that, actually… looks like the guy is dead.” 

“What?” 

“Mmhmm, scroll down a bit and there’s the date his death certificate was issued,” the guy shows her, “you’ll probably need to have your SID looked at, see what’s wrong with it. For now, I can unlock it for you and have them add whoever this guy is to registered owners, so, you won’t be locked out until you fix it.” 

“Fine, I guess.” 

“But that does mean if this guy’s ghost decides to pop in for a visit, lock won’t stop him,” the man jokes, offering the first smile since he’s been here. 

“Somehow I’ll handle it, thanks for the help, and if it’s not too much trouble can you forward me the details of that SID info?” 

“Sure, no problem,” the maintenance man’s eyes glow and she can feel the very soft warmth and whirr of her neuroplant as it accepts the file. 

She gives one final thanks as he unlocks her apartment and she’s finally able to step foot inside. Thankfully her door locks behind her and she makes a beeline for her shower, scrubbing blood and sweat from her skin; finding bruises, cuts, and flesh wounds she hadn’t noticed in the midst of fighting. 

It takes her a little longer than expected to wind down for the night, the merc putting in her optic contacts and playing with the bot. Looking through its eyes, she has it twist and climb all throughout her apartment, making herself dizzy until she falls out of  bed and bangs her head against the floor. Finally, putting the cute spider looking tech away when she feels the knot starting to form on her head. Then, setting her alarm and sleeping for the night. 

V is still tired when her alarm vibrates beneath her pillow, waking her up as the sunlight streams in from her large window, warming her skin. She checks her phone, double checks the time and that Dex hasn’t sent the car for her yet. The young merc rushes through her morning routine; showering, brushing her teeth, dressing, and taking her medication with some Chromanticore in hopes of getting some energy back. 

She’s out the door and has her  mask on in a matter of minutes, phone buzzing with the message that Dex’s car is waiting for her. As she comes down the steps of her building she sees the same limousine and bodyguard waiting outside of it. But this time when he opens the door for her, there is no Dex, nobody. Chills creep their way up her spine, but she gets in nonetheless, sinking into the leather backseat as Dex’s guard starts to drive them away. 

The guard is quiet, doesn’t explain where they’re going or why, V has a feeling he wouldn’t tell even if she asked. So, she doesn’t. Only the radio drones on, a mixture of news and occasional pop music from bands and singers she doesn’t know or care to know; an anouncer coming over the radio to speak somberly. 

“Today marks the fifty-fourth anniversary of the attack on Arasaka Tower. Fifty-four years ago a group of terrorists stormed Arasaka Tower and detonated a bomb, which forever changed the history of our dear city. Devastating the lives of millions; thousands dying in the initial attack and more perishing in the aftermath as well. Today we ask for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in this senseless act of violence so many years ago….:” 

A beat of silence, barely a moment, then the high energy voice returns. 

“Now, after this short music break, we return with the heartwarming story of Stumpy, the three legged puppy who’s gone viral after the use of  veterinary cyberware has given the pup a new lease on life!~” 

V rolls her eyes, sounds about right, barely a moment for something so somber. No real grief or empathy, time to move on to a cute puppy because that keeps people happy and listening.  She watches the city around her change, spotting the Valentino graffiti starting to cover the buildings and that they’re entering Heywood.  She sends a heads up text to Jackie, letting him know they’re not far from his house. 

A short moment after,  the driver is parking outside Jackie’s garage and she watches the older merc walking out. The guard opens the limousine back door and Jackie relaxes when he sees V, climbing into the seat next to her. 

“Hey, V, you figure out what’s going on?” 

“Was sort of hoping you had…” 

“Asked T-Bug, said it’s a surprise.” 

“Not sure I like Bug’s idea of surprises.” 

“Hey, hombre,” Jackie calls out to the guard as he starts to drive them away, “mind telling us where we’re headed?” 

They’re met with silence, because of they are. V nervously wrings her hands as she watches for signs of where they’re going based on the passing scenery. 

“Has to be something to do with prepping for the job, just wish I knew what.” 

“Speaking of which, you got the bot on you?” 

“Yeah, brought it just in case and if Bug’s there she’ll want to take a look. Wonder if there’s any chance of keeping the Flathead after this?” 

She knows Dex said it’s a single use toy, but...who knows, maybe she could somehow keep it afterwards. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Its cute.” 

“You think a military grade combat bot is cute?” 

“It's a little spider.” 

“You find the weirdest shit cute, I swear.” 

“It is cute!” 

“It’s-” Jackie looks out the window, “shit are we in Corpo Plaza?” 

“Maybe we’re just passing through?” 

As if only to prove her wrong, the limousine parks outside a store on Senate Avenue, the bright sign says Jinguji. Even looking through the window, it looks entirely like a place that her and Jackie do not belong. Brightly lit, immaculately clean with fancy designer clothes on display. 

“We’re here,” the guard tells them and the doors open with the press of a button. 

V and Jackie share a look before getting out of the limousine, standing before the Jinguji store like deers stuck in headlights. 

“Dex can’t be serious, Jinguji?” Jackie says, scratching at the shaved underneath of his hair. 

“Looks…. Fancy.” 

“Corp store, designer; a sock in there will cost you a few thousand eddies.” 

“I know he says we need to play corpo, but… I don’t know, it feels weird.”

“I’m sure Dex knows what he’s doing. But, uh,  you gotta take off the mask, chica.” 

“What, why?” 

“‘Cause its fucking Jinguji, they’re not gonna let you through the door looking like that.” 

“You’re one to talk, you got a ketchup stain on your shirt.” 

“Firstly, that’s blood. Secondly, you’re a wearing a jacket you stole off a dead guy last week.” 

“Not like he needs it!” 

“Jackie, V!” A voice yells out, drawing the merc’s attention into the doorway of the store, T-Bug in realspace, wearing a black netrunning suit, “would you gonks stop bickering and get in here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the mercs speak and sign in unison, falling the netrunner into the corp store.

There’s a large lit up advertisement at the back of the store. Gold decor dripping down from the ceiling, plush white couches, and an ice bucket with champagne. To her surprise, there’s no other shoppers within the store. A man in a tailored designer suit sits at the desk, greeting the two mercs as they walk in. 

“Welcome to Jinguji, an oasis of elegance!~” 

V gives an awkward nod and wave. She’s not sure what else to do. She doesn’t belong here; she knows that much. A dirty black leather jacket under the bright lights and old raggedy boots on shiny polished floors.  The merc wants nothing more than to run out of the store, some of the clothes she sees displayed are nice, if she’s being honest. A few bit tacky for her taste, but others are cute or sexy with dramatic flair, but nothing she would ever really have a reason to wear. 

“Mind telling us why the fuck we’re here, Bug?” Jackie asks and the netrunner chuckles. 

“To get into Konpeki, you two will have to look the part. Rather than blindly guessing what will fit, Dex is flitting the bill and getting you both some corpo threads,” T-Bug explains, taking a seat on on of the couches. 

“Where is everyone?” 

“Store is rented out for the next couple hours, discretion. V, did you bring the bot?” 

“Got it in my bag.” 

“Lemme see, got to make sure it’s in working shape.” V puts the bot down on the table, T-Bug opening the case and looking over the bot, running diagnostics that the merc can’t begin to understand,

“Right this way, you two, I’m sure we’ll find something perfect for both of you,” the man who greeted them, grabs their attention again, “but it would be easier,  if I have a full idea of your features, miss.” 

“Told you,” Jackie taunts and V elbows him in the side, slowly taking off her mask and she feels bare. And she knows people have seen her face before, but this is work and it just feels… wrong. 

“Wonderful, so we’ll begin with the gentlemen, I think you’ll find we have a wonderful array of fine suits in our men’s department.” 

The man, who’s fancy name tag says Zane, shows them a vast collection of suits. They range from slick classic black ones, deep navy blues, florals, brights, embroidered, and every color she can imagine. Its hard to imagine the big merc in any of them. She’s always seen him in muscle shirts or his favorite red and black jacket. His eyes seem to land on a red suit with gold detailing. 

“Well-” 

“Point is to blend in, not stand out, Jack,” T-Bug calls out, scolding him without having to even look at him or his choice in suit. 

“Just black then.” 

“Wise choice, sir, our tailors will get your measurements and get the perfect fit for you.” 

Another employee guides Jackie to a fitting room and V feels the sudden urge to sink into the ground, Zane’s attention now solely on her.  She scratches at her cheek and flips on her choker translator. 

“Now, what about you? We have plenty of formal options in women’s fashion as well. A more androgynous business suit or perhaps a dress?” 

She’s shown mannequins dressed in tight body con dresses with various necklines, materials, colors, and a few well fitted pants suits. Her eyes are drawn to the dresses, if she’s being honest. She has a rather small collection of skirts and dresses, for off days, but she never has a chance to wear anything more formal than a sundress or mini skirt over leggings. These dresses are dramatic, gorgeous; some with mesh inlays or cut outs. 

But, like Bug said;  they’re there to blend in, not stand out. This isn’t an outfit for fun but for work and if something goes wrong, the last thing she needs is this going to shit and having to battle in a tight constricting dress or too high of heels. 

“I think a pants suit in black would be best; keep it simple.” 

“Understood.” 

V taken to a fitting room, given the chance to put on the ready to buy pantsuits in privacy. A stark white button up blouse, black blazer, and black slacks. And she knows immediately it will need to be tailored to suit her; the pants longer than her legs and the shirt loose around her chest. The tailor comes in after a moment and begins measuring, marking where things need to be taken in and raised. V left trying not to get embarrassed each time the measuring tape is wrapped around a part of her.

“Is there a way to make the blazer sleeves easier to roll up?” She signs once her arms are done being measured. The material is stiffer and harder to get tight around her elbows when trying; she wants her Mantis Blades easily used.

“Hmm, lets see, maybe it’d be best to use it more like an accessory rather than wearing it properly?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you could just wear it over your shoulders like a cape,” the woman drapes it that way across V’s shoulders. 

“Not my thing.” 

“Then you can carry it, like this,” the woman shows  holding the jacket back over her shoulder with her fingers hooked in it’s collar. It looks alright, casual enough, though having a jacket and not wearing it still reads as strange to the merc.

“I’ll consider that.” 

“It can also help keep you cool. Now, lets talk about makeup, hair, and shoes.” 

V listens and nods as the woman gives recommendations; getting V a pair of low heeled black synthetic leather shoes. Then going into advice on hair; recommending french twist, a bun, or a low ponytail depending on how formal V wants to go. The woman recommends simple classic makeup styles and a few other tips for the merc to meet her full corpo potential. Finally, with measurements, adjustments, and everything marked; V is allowed to change back into her street clothes. She leaves the room, seeing Jackie already in his regular clothes again and sitting next to T-Bug. 

“We have all the measurements down and will begin altering the clothes immediately.” 

“Good,” T-Bug confirms with Zane, “remember we need them finished and delivered to The Afterlife by five.” 

“I assure you, our tailors are already on it.” 

“V,” T-Bug calls out when she sees the short merc, “got something for you.” 

V sits down on the couch, watching as T-Bug sets out a pair of white hearing aids. They’re designed like her normal ones, just more boring. 

“Hearing aids? I already have those.” 

“These are special, optic camo. No corpo worth their salt has anything less than top of the line phonic implants, with press of a button or a thought, these will go invisible.. They’ll work just like your regular ones, but look like you’re wearing nothing. Try them out.” 

She switches her blue hearing aids with the new ones, they fit well and she pushes the thought of turning the camo on.  V catches her reflection in a mirror in the store, she can feel them, but see nothing. 

“Perfect, no one will be any the wiser. This also means no signing or translator.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

“I know its not ideal, but it’s just the reality of it. Corpo types like this; lose your hearing, new implants. Vocal chords fried, get a new set in gold. Get paralyzed, new legs or entire nervous system. Go blind, new optics. They see you signing or using hearing aids, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb.” 

“I get it.” 

“No sweat,  I’ll do the talking, V,” Jackie comforts her and then turns his attention to Bug, “So, what now?” 

“We’ll go over the full plan this evening at The Afterlife, you two need to be there by five. We’ll talk with Dex and you’ll be in Konpeki by eight tonight, relic in hand before midnight strikes.” 

“So we get to kick back and relax until five?” 

“As long as you’re there by five and ready to go, I couldn’t care less what you do, Jack.” 

“Said this place was rented out, right?” V asks, noticing a dramatic purple dress that reminds her of a certain tarot card reader’s favorite color.

“Yeah, why?” 

“How much longer is this place reserved?” 

“Another hour, maybe two and again, I ask why?” 

“Ow, hell that for, chica?” Jackie looks up when V kicks him in the shin. 

“Call Misty, dumbass. Buy her something nice, make a date out of it before we go on the job.”  V tells him, remembering Misty’s concerns from the other night. It might ease her mind a bit to have a nice afternoon with Jackie, dress shopping and a fancy lunch in City Center. Just a chance to enjoy themselves. 

“Dex is nice V, but sincerely doubt he wants to pay for Misty a new dress.” 

“Oh no, if only one of us had scammed ten grand off of Militech, oh wait,” V says, pulling the Militech credchip from her bag and sees the twinkle in Jackie’s eyes. 

“You serious, V?” 

“Should get her a hell of a nice dress, maybe you a suit, and a nice fancy lunch; play corpo for an afternoon.” 

“Shit, V,” he takes the credchip from her fingers, “what’d I do without you?” 

“You two are going to make me puke,” T-Bug says, rolling her eyes while Jackie is already calling up Misty. 

“Just wait until Misty gets here and the constant pet names start,  you’ll really lose your lunch.” 

“Ugh, more reason to get out of here, I’ll be taking the Flathead with me to keep in working shape.” 

“Can I ask you something before you go?”

“Got more code you need me to check?” 

“Not quite, had an issue with my SID chip last night, was wondering if there was a chance I was hacked?” 

“You get spiked, jaina?” Jackie asks when he finishes chatting with Misty. 

“Don’t know, couldn’t unlock my door last night, reader thought I was some old dude.” 

“Hmm, SID hacks are tricky, we’re going to be using one for your covers in Konpeki. But they usually only alter your ID a bit and die after so many hours. Thing is, that wouldn’t really benefit anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, I don’t think anyone would get much out of pretending I’m some ninety year old dead fuck.” 

“I can jack in, see if I find anything in your soft.” 

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” 

V shifts her back to T-Bug, sweeping her hair off the nape of her neck and showing her neuroports. The netrunner pushes some loose strands out of the way and slots her personal jack into V’s biomon. A few moments pass and V can feel her cheeks flushing a bit, a weird feeling to having T-Bug directly touch her and jack in to her tech. This is the first time they’ve met in person, may even be the first time Bug has seen her face. 

“Everything looks clear to me, SID is registering as yours, no signs of a hack,” Bug explains, jacking out. 

“Weird, maintenance guy showed last night it was showing as some dead guy.” 

“Strange, must be some sort of glitch.” 

“Or you’re being haunted.” 

“Haha, very funny, Jackie.” 

“Hello… “ 

A soft voice calls out and V lights up seeing Misty poking her head into the fancy luxury store, looking every bit as nervous as V had been. Jackie is up and rushing towards Misty in a heart beat, pulling her into a hug and twirling her around, kissing her head. 

“You’re here, mi carina.” 

“Babe,” Misty says, giggiling as she’s put back down on her feet, then steps up on her tip toes to kiss Jackie’s lips. 

“Gonna puke,” T-Bug comments low under her breath and V tries not to laugh. 

“V, Bug,” Misty smiles at the two, “glad I got here before you two left out.” 

“What’s up?” 

Jackie walks Misty over closer to them, large hand on her hip as she rummage through her purse. After a moment, she pulls out three beaded bracelets. A mixture of beads in black, gold, and blue mottled with gold. T-Bug is already raising her eyebrow and V’s not sure how well Misty’s spiritualism will go over with the runner. 

“These are protection bracelets. Lapis lazuli, black tourmaline, and gold sheen obsidian. They’re all meant to help with creating a protective spiritual barrier, it should keep you all safe from negative energies and frequencies.” 

“Ay, you still in knots over this, mi alma?” 

“It would just make me feel better knowing you have a little more protection, babe.” 

Misty slides the biggest of the bracelets onto Jackie’s wrist and he gives her a soft smile, kissing her temple before starts to give the others to V and Bug. The young merc slides it on with a smile and T-Bug takes it in hand, with a less enthusiasm. 

“Thanks, Misty, I appreciate it,” V tells her and elbows T-Bug in the side, earning her a glare, but the netrunner plays nice. 

“Thanks…” 

“I know it’s not much, but a little protection is better than none and should keep energies bright.” 

“Right….” 

“Well,” V cuts in before Bug can say anything else, “we’ll be getting out of your hair, have fun you two!~” 

“Thanks again, V, see you two at The Afterlife.” 

Jackie waves them off, Bug packing up and V putting her usual hearing aids in their case, away in her pocket. The runner and young merc leave the store, Dex’s guard already left a while ago, so V will have to either call her car or use the public transit. Come to think of it, she’s not sure how she’s going to kill time until its game time. 

“V,” Bug stops her outside Jinguji before they go their separate ways for now, “gotta ask, you really believe in that spiritual crap?” 

“No, but she does and it makes her happy, so, why not?”

“I guess, if she really thinks a bracelet is going to save us from Arasaka.” 

“Won’t kill you to accessorize a little, Bug.” 

“Whatever you say.” 

They say their goodbyes and V is left thinking again about what she wants to do to pass the time. She could do a few short gigs, but her mind is preoccupied with the heist. Ultimately, V finds herself taking the NCART to El Coyote Cojo. Mostly just because she’s bored and maybe something or someone there will occupy her time.  The bar isn’t too active at the early hour and she doesn’t see Mama Welles around. 

“V!” Pepe greets her when she walks through. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“Same old, same old. Jaquito is still out, Senora Welles is out shopping, but Jake is taking out the trash in the back if you want to say hi.” 

“I think I might go and do just that.” 

Playing grab ass with one of her go to lays seems like a solid way to waste her time. V walks through the bar and out one of the backdoors that open to the alley with the dumpster. Sure enough, Jake is there tossing away a trash bag. He’s around 6’5 about as tall as Jackie, muscular, with a head of ginger hair shaved down on the shades and a thick beard. 

She throws her arms around his waist, feeling the muscle underneath his shirt. He teases his fingers over her forearms, the chrome of his Gorilla Fingers cyberware sending a soft chill through her skin. 

“Hey, V, new chrome?” He runs over the chrome patterns in her arms. 

She hums against his back in response, not wanting to move. But, he twists in her arms. He cups her face in chromed fingers, for a moment, his browns furrow in confusion. 

“No hearing aids?” 

She pulls away, enough space for her to sign. 

“Camouflage ones, it and the blades are necessary for the gig.” 

“Oh yeah, Jackie’s been talking everyone to death about this heist you two got planned. He better be damn glad no one here’s got loose lips.” His hands drop from her face and loosely wrap around her waist, fingers starting to graze over her ass. 

“Can’t blame him for being excited.” 

“Hmmm and you?” 

“Nervous.” 

“Figured as much,” he squeezes her ass, “you looking for a distraction?” 

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be letting you grope my ass in broad daylight, now would I?” 

A low dry chuckle echoes in his chest and he dives in for a kiss. It’s quick and rough, his beard scratching over her skin before he pulls away. She can’t help but giggle as he pulls her back into the bar, hand still shamelessly on her ass. 

“Pepe! I’m going on lunch break!” 

“Yeah yeah, go on.” 

“C’mon,” Jake guides her out of the bar, “lemme at least buy you lunch first.” 

“You actually trying to be nice today?” 

“Something like that.” 

V settles into his passenger side seat as Jake climbs behind the wheel. They pull away from El Coyote Cojo, driving around Heywood and finding a drive in to go through, Burgers, fries, and pop bought; Jake finds a relatively empty place to park meanwhile V has already begun taking the pickles off her burgers. 

“So, you wanna actually talk about it?” Jake asks, taking a bite of his burger. 

“Not much to talk about,” she signs with salt covered fingers and a mouthful of fries, “biggest job of our career. Nerves are natural.” 

Not to mention the shady client, the fact they’re robbing Arasaka, the fact they’re robbing Yorinobu specifically, the fact they have to play corpo, that V will have to force herself not to sign, and that every fiber of her being is screaming that something  is going to go wrong. Then she has the weirdness of her SID chip fucking up on her mind as well. 

“Yeah, but you overthink, so I know that little brain of yours is spinning in a billion directions.” 

V shrugs, “No more than usual, so,  what’s been going on with you?” 

“Not much, been thinking of quitting the bar.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, get to work the day shift so I can pick the twins up from school and spend some time with them. But, day shift in a bar basically means staring at a wall and waiting for Senora Welles to cut me a paycheck.” 

“You don’t like getting paid to sit around and look pretty?” 

“Not gonna lie, it’d be hard to find a boss as forgiving as Senora Welles.” 

“Not every boss would let you take an hour or longer lunch just to play grab ass with me?” 

“Eh, pretty sure if she knew what I was doing with her precious adopted daughter, she’d already have me fired.” 

“Oh please, she’s known you longer than me.” 

“Yeah, but she likes you more, you’re basically her kid and I’m her employee,” he pauses watching V roll her eyes, “you know, she’s been worrying a lot about you and Jackie, lately. She knows things are getting riskier with the merc work and-” 

V quiets him with a kiss, not wanting to hear another word of this. She comes to him for a distraction. The kiss is messy and he tastes like greasy fast food, but she’s sure she’s not any better, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She cups his jaw with one hand, scratching over his beard and as he deepens the kiss, she drops her other hand into his lap. He’s already half hard in his jeans, pressing into her touch as she gropes him through the denim. Jake curses against her lips, breaking their kiss. 

“You talk too much, honey,” she chastises him, a soft smile on her lips as she undoes his belt buckle, he lifts his hips, allowing  space to pull his pants and boxer down just enough to get his cock out. 

She pulls her legs up into her seat, on her knees so she can fully lean over the center console into his lap. V pushes hair back behind her ear and takes his dick into her mouth; not bothering to tease, swallowing around him. The taste of him on her tongue causes a heat in her center to stir, getting slick between her thighs as she bobs her head up and down. He groans as she strokes and sucks him, teasing her tongue ring along the head of his cock. The bitterness of his precum and the salt of his skin making her dizzy with need. 

His chrome fingers slide across the expanse of her back, reaching out to grab her ass. He gropes and fondles her through her pants, the rough feeling of her jeans and panties being pressed against her sensitive wet folds. Jake curses as V alternates between sucking, licking, and taking him as deep into her throat as she can. 

He tugs on her hair, bleached strands wrapped around chrome, pulling her mouth off him. Drool covering his cock and her lips. She pouts at him for stopping her, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy.  He gives her a swat on the ass, barely hard enough to sting. 

“Want inside of you.” 

That’s all the explanation he gives and she pulls away, thankful that the windows of his car have steamed from body heat, she begins to quickly strip off her clothes. Its clumsy as she tries to strip down in a car seat, throwing her jacket off into the back, kicking off her boots, before yanking her pants and panties down in one fluid movement. She curses herself for not wearing a skirt or something with easier access. A part of her mind recognizes how stupid she must look, still in her shirt, bra, and her socks staying on after tugging off her pants. But lust has killed her ability to think, just wanting him inside of her. Jake has rolled a condom on, but otherwise has simply watched the flustered merc strip down. 

V’s easily able to jump into his lap, straddling him and having her back to the steering wheel. She steadies herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other lining his cock up with her entrance, sinking herself down onto his dick. She’s slick enough that she takes him all in one movement, both cursing out at the feeling. The stretch of his cock inside of her and the tightness of her cunt around him. Jake digs his nails into her hips and bounces her on his cock, fucking up into her. He takes complete control, setting a brutal pace that leaves V reeling with every thrust. All she can do is wrap her arms around his neck and moan against his sweaty skin, accepting each harsh movement of him inside of her. 

The tension inside of her grows tighter with every thrust, every smack of skin against skin like a strike of a match trying to grow a larger flame. She can’t think, can’t focus, every thought consumed with pleasure and a desire to be pushed over the edge. Bruises form on her hips where he hold her, where he uses her for pleasure. The chair of his cheap car creaks with each bounce and a few thrusts slams her lower back into the steering wheel, but she doesn’t care, couldn’t if she tried. She whines and whimpers against his skin, feeling her end nearing. 

And then the tension snaps, orgasm hitting her fast and hard, she digs her nails into his skin, squirming and writhing as she moans out her pleasure. Mind a haze as she’s overwhelmed with her pleasure. He thrusts a few more times and she nearly chokes at the continued stimulation, the feeling of him fucking into her already sensitive cunt. Then he curses, bringing her hips down fully to meet his own one last time before he cums, spilling his seed inside the condom. 

V rolls off of him and back into the passenger seat, hating the empty feeling  Her skin is sweaty and flushed, as much she hates it, she needs to get her clothes back on. Fumbling to get her pants and panties out of the passenger side floorboard. Pulling them on and shoving her feet in her boots. V waits as Jake ties off the condom and adjusts his jeans, opening the car door and tossing the condom away into a nearby dumpster. 

The Night City air feels cool compared to the heat of the car after fucking, she watches him light up a cigarette outside of the car and grimaces. He climbs back into the driver's seat, keeping the window rolled down and she makes a gagging sound as the smoke hits her nose. 

“You coming back to the bar with me?” He asks, blowing smoke out of the window. 

“No,” she signs, thankful the choker translator can survive sweat, “I’ll catch the train back to Watson.” 

“Let strangers see you sweaty and fuck-dazed?” 

“Well, it’s a good look for me.” 

“Can’t really deny that, now can I.” 

She rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket getting out of the car, walking away on still slightly wobbly legs. V takes the train back to Watson, fiddling with her holophone the entire way. The merc gets off at the stop closest to her megabuilding and makes her way to her apartment; lock recognizing her on the first try. 

V checks the time and decides to get ready to go to The Afterlife. Those nerves she had managed to fuck away for a moment creep up on her all over again. She shakes her head not wanting to focus on her anxieties, she strips down and grabs a shower, cleaning off the sweat from her liaison. 

The merc pulls her hair back in a small low-set ponytail and does her makeup to the recommendations of the stylist. She gets dressed and uses the new camouflaged hearing aids, she takes her mask with her too. Though she knows she can’t wear it into Konpeki, she’ll still be walking into The Afterlife. That thought alone twists her guts into nervous knots. 

The Afterlife is the go to bar for the top of their game, Major Leagues mercs and fixers. It’s where the biggest deals are made, the easiest place to catch a drink and a job, but only mercs or fixers of a certain standard are allowed through its doors. Jackie brags about the place like it’s heaven for mercenaries. If they’re going to become regular fixtures of the bar after this, then she’d prefer to maintain her usual level of anonymity for fixers moving forward. She’ll drop the mask when they’re finally in corpo threads. 

V slides on Misty’s bracelet as well, fiddling with the beads meant to provide some form of protection. Her mind goes back to Misty’s tarot card reading, while she doesn’t put much weight on it, her friend’s fortune telling often sticks with her. The Wheel of Fortune is sticking out to her; she could care less if the cards thinks she’s stupid or if she’s about to fall in love, the latter of which so ridiculous she can’t help but dismiss it. But the idea of conflict sticks out, fear of the heist going wrong has been heavy on her mind. Something always goes slightly wrong, no job is perfect. But this has the highest stakes she’s ever encountered. 

V has new cyberware, the best possible tech and upgrades from Vik. She has Jackie, her best choom and partner in crime who’s never let her down. There’s T-Bug, her friend and brilliant netrunner who could bring half of Night City down if she wished. Their fixer is Dex, one of the best in regards to his job, he has everything to gain by having their backs covered. They have military grade tech and an inside look into Konpeki. They are going in under the best possible circumstances. 

She has to remind herself, review this again and again, that if something goes wrong someone there should be able to take care of it. But, those nerves don’t fade even as she leaves her apartment. 

The Afterlife isn’t far from V’s apartment, practically a hop and skip downtown. Barely five minutes pass before she’s under the roofed alley, nearing the club. Vivid cyan and purple graffiti across the wall, trash along the way.

“Porque ya tengo planes para esta noche!" 

The voice is familiar, Jackie’s and V pressed her back to the side of the vending machine, he’s telling someone he already has plans for tonight. He sounds frustrated, like he’s on the verge of pulling his hair out. 

“Virgen Santsima, ma! Te vas a enterar mañana,” a beat of silence, “también te quiero, ma."

The conversation ways on her, he’s talking to Senora Welles. Remembering Jake talking about her feelings, that the matriarch has been worrying herself half to death. And it sounds like Jackie has been on the receiving end of that worry for a while.  V pulls her mask on and rounds the corner past the vending machine, stepping in front of the main entrance of The Afterlife. Her friend standing in the doorway under the harsh green light. 

“Heh, about time, chica,” he greets, tucking his phone into his pocket, she catches the blue of Misty’s bracelet mingled with his usual gold ones. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Ehhh, y'know. She's worried about me - whatever. Can't help herself, y'know - checkin’ to see if I'm not rottin' in some dumpster… like most of the Welles boys. Been worse lately.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Started climbin' our way up. Got more an' more knives out there, waitin' to stab us in the back. Higher stakes, higher risk. She can see that.” 

“Look like you’re about to keel over.” V reaches out, touching the red blotches on his skin, stress and sweat inflaming his skin. 

“Years of merc work, and yet,  still sweat like a roasted pig when I talk to my ma. It's really startin' to wear on me. More tell her everythin's OK, more I feel like I'm straight-up lyin’.”

“Well, hopefully you had a nice date with Misty at least.” 

“Went about as well as talking to my ma right now,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “for two women who don’t get along, they sure agree when it comes to worrying about me.” 

“They worry because they love you, worse things in life than people giving a damn about you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t matter none. Not anymore, Afterlife, here we come, baby!” 

Jackie changes the topic and she can’t really blame him for it, rubbing his hands together and practically cheering in excitement. This is everything they’ve talked about, everything they’ve said they want. So, why does she still have a lump in her throat? 

“Afterlife… we’re really here.” 

“Does not get any higher, choom. And you know somethin' else? We fuckin' earned it, chica!” 

“No point in standing around then, is there?’ 

“Ready to get your cherry popped?” he laughs leading her into the club, “Yeeeah! Come on!”

“Little late for that one, Jack,” she teases as they make their way down the stairs, a pair of double doors opening up for them. A short step down into a small hallway with mercs and fixers alike talking under the green glow of a sign bearing the club’s name. 

“Place used to be a morgue - you believe that?”

“Really?” 

“I know, right? Way before our time, that. When proper burials were still a thing.”

They come to another set of doors, through the small window V can see the true club main room beyond them. But a man stands guarding them, around Jackie’s height and a similar bulky build. Cyberware indented along his jawline and nose. His face is stony, eyes sharp when Jackie and V stop before him, then he puts a large hand out in front of him. 

“And who might you clowns be?”

“Jackie and V,” the taller of the mercs says with a grin, “Dexter Deshawn is waitin’ on us.” 

The bouncer gives them a look and V is glad for her mask helping hide her emotions. His expression is dismissive, looking down on them, making her feel all at once that she has not earned her place in this club. A baby merc, new to the city, barely six months under her belt and she’s standing at the Afterlife. How the fuck did she get here? 

“Yo, Dex. Got two live ones sayin' they're here to see ya,” his optics glow as he calls Dex, “Yeah? All right, then. Says he needs a second or two. Go get yourselves drinks or somethin'.”

The doors open to a green and cyan lit club. Music louder as the barrier breaks away, people fill the room. Some sipping on alcohol and other’s puffing away on cigarettes; the smell of nicotine and booze wafting from the bar. 

“Way ahead o' you, viejo,” Jackie laughs and leads the way in. 

V follows him around the corner; the large bar coming into full view. It’s lit green, the same neon sign reading Afterlife at the top of it. A bartender in a blue button up slings drinks to the patrons. Floor to ceiling columns, like tubes, are places around the club each filled with water with a dancer twirling around inside with strategically place chrome clothing covering the most private parts of them. Everything is basked in that green neon light, despite being surrounded by mercs like her, she feels so completely out of place. 

Jackie marches proudly across the bar floor, stride confident and unwavering. 

“This is it… The heart o' Night City! That's it right there - beating. Hear it?” he proclaims as they pass by rows of half closed off booths, “Can you imagine? Susan Forrest, Boa Boa, maybe even Morgan Blackhand… All sat on those stools, fell asleep on that same bar.”

Jackie sits in one of the barstools, beaming and brimming with excitement. His eyes wide as he takes it all in, the place he’s dreamed of for all his years. V climbs into the seat next to him, placing an elbow on the bar, leaning her head onto her hand, as she shifts to face him. 

“Doubt that puts us in the same league as them,” V teases, Morgan Blackhand brought down Arasaka Tower. They’re stealing a biochip, hardly the same thing. 

“Oh, but we are. They just don't know it yet,” Jackie tells her with a wink and she can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“We-” 

V drops her hand when she realizes Jackie’s attention has gone elsewhere, an older woman walking past the two. She’s nothing unusual, older looking than most of the crowd here, sure but nothing immediately stands out to V. An older woman with long gray hair shaved on one side and a bright yellow cropped sweater, She marches her way across the bar and into a blue lit booth, moving past a guard.  

“'Ey. See that old lady there?”

“Yeah, didn’t know grannies were your type,” V taunts him again, he’s always given her shit for her taste in older people, yet he’s ogling some grandma? 

“Fuck off,” he playfully smacks her, but nearly knocks her from her chair, “that’s fuckin’ Rogue, best fixer in all o' Night City.” 

“Thought Dex was the best?” 

“Pff… Rogue was linin' up jobs when Dex was still shittin' in diapers, heh. Place belongs to her.”

“What can I getcha?” The bartender cuts in, hands down on the bar in front of them. She’s a woman with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a soft round face. 

V doesn’t drink on the job, something she’s always stuck to. But, this is Jackie’s dream and she knows how he likes to celebrate. If nothing else, their banter has failed to undo her nerves, maybe booze will do the trick. 

“You order,” she signs to Jackie and he grins. 

“You drinkin’?” 

“Special night, pick me something nice.” 

“Two Tequila Old Fashioneds with a splash of cerveza and a chili garnish.”

“A duo of Johnny Silverhands, comin' up,” the bartender starts to put the drinks together, “somebody did their homework.” 

“Guessing the dog ate mine,” V signs, confused because what the fuck is a silver hand?

“Age-old tradition. Drinks're named after our regulars,” she explains, putting the drinks down in front of the mercs. 

“What’d I have to do to get a drink named after me?” 

“Snuff it,” she grins, “ In mind-blowingly spectacular fashion, Mid-op'd be best.”

“Aah, what a beaut of a tradition!”

“Steep price for a drink, not going to lie,” V signs, letting her nerves speak for her, if only for a moment. Her guts are in knots, she can only hope the alcohol will untangle. All of the merc’s usual stress relieving tactics other than a weed brownie, have failed to do much of anything.

“Hey, everyone's gotta go sometime, right? Why not in style? Death’s nothing but the final flourish!” 

“To hitting the major leagues,” she signs, holding her shot in the other hand.

“To becoming legends.” 

She pushes her mask just up above her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick and  they throw back their shots. Smooth but strong booze with a kick of spice from the garnish, a burn in her throat. Not her style, but she’s had worse. She pushes her mask back down, regarding the bartender, her nametag says Claire. 

“So, who else can I drink here?” She still has no idea who Silverhand is, but maybe there’s a name she does recognize, reading the posted drink menu. 

“All on the menu…”  

“'Cept there's a spot missing. Morgan Blackhand, right?”

“Heh,  true. Morgan's yet to make up his mind he's dead or still kickin',” Claire tells Jackie and V rolls her eyes. 

“Think he’s still alive? It’s been years,” Jackie asks Claire. 

“No way he’s still alive,.” The radio was just talking about the devastation of the tower going down, if that many folks were killed who were just near it, then there’s no way someone who was in the tower survived. 

“Why not? Look at Rogue. Peeps from that era - a species unto themselves.”

“And one day we’re gonna be there too,” Jackie probably proclaims, “speaking of which, name’s Jackie Welles if you want to write down my recipe.” 

“Sure.” There’s a playfulness in her tone, just going along with Jackie’s whims. 

“Shot of vodka on the rocks, lime juice, ginger beer… oh, and most importantly - a splash of love.”

“Haha, I'll remember that.”

“Gag,” V signs just to see the glare Jackie levels her way, the playful smack of her arm. 

“Okay, what’s your drink then?” 

“Literally, the only thing I drink is like cherry cola with a splash of bourbon.” 

“You know those are usually supposed to be reversed, the bourbon and coke.” 

“Maybe so, but, and hear me out… cherry cola tastes better.”  

“Heard you were Dex’s latest finds,” Claire tells them. 

“Just biz, no big deal.”

“How'd you know?” V raises an eyebrow behind her mask. 

“My job to know. Look around - how do you think meres earn their reps? Through gossip rivaling that of schoolgirls, that's how.”

“Mr. DeShawn see you now,” a booming voice rings out behind the mercs, turning around she sees Dex’s bodyguard. The first time she’s heard his voice. 

“Love to hang, imbibe the vibe, but we got an important meeting,” Jackie tells Claire, getting up from his seat and V following suit, throwing some cash down on the bar. 

“Break a leg.” 

“This way,” the bodyguard tells them and the mercs falls in line behind him. He leads them around the bar, past the crowd and through a door towards the back of the club. The lighting shifting, more blue than green as they walk past another vending machine. 

“Damn, holmes, you're huge... Work out?” Jackie asks, unable to stand the silence. 

“Hmm.” A vague grunt as they pass through another door, the music fading as they get further from the main bar. But V can just hear the starting beat of some old dad rock, something about losing another day to pointless drudgery. 

“Same here, y'know, in the ring. You do some kinda exotic shit? Kempo? Ninjitsu?”

Nothing as they turn another corner. 

“Think you could take me, drop me?”

“Jackie…” Why must he sound like he’s picking a fight with the guy?

“In here,” the guard says, stopping and standing in front of another door. 

"Este pinche tipo..."

The door opens and they’re greeted to the first room with warm lighting, though it just seems to be a storage corner. With a cabinet and vending machine. But to the left are barely see through walls of a booth that takes up half the room, through them V can just see T-Bug’s outline and leather couches. 

They walk around, the front of the booth opened. A wrap around black leather couch goes around the back wall and left side of the booth. Dex sat on the back portion, talking into a holo about Excelsior and cold hard eddies. T-Bug sat to side, a table in the center of the room with the Flathead, Jinguji boxes, and shards placed on neat little index cards. There’s a small disconnect leather seat in the right corner, next to the door. 

“Gotta bounce,” Dex hangs up, “well, if it ain’t Miss V.” 

“Whole family in one place! Hah! Finally!”

“That’s one way to put it,” T-Bug teases and a shine of blue catches V’s eye, the netrunner wearing Misty’s bracelet. She can’t help but smile. 

“A’ight, then… Set your butts down comfy,” Dex tells them. Jackie plops himself onto the larger couch next to T-Bug, comfortably spreading his arms over the back of it while V takes the smaller seat, putting her at an angle to see everyone.  She stifles a laugh, seeing Jackie’s leg excitedly bounce up and down. 

“Sweet booth, is it soundproof?” 

“Jackie…” T-Bug scolds and V stifles a laugh. 

“Now, now, Mr. Welles is right. We gon' be goin' over some sensitive material. But if it's all right with y'all, I'd like to start with a question for Miss V… Evelyn Parker - how'd you fare?”

All eyes on her, stomach still twisted in a vise, this is her chance. She’s got to tell him, but she doesn’t want Evelyn hurt. Some fixers will go to any length to get revenge on a client or merc who does them dirty. But, he’s got a right to know the shit she pulled. 

“Intel was good, brain dance was exactly what we needed….” 

“So, she just wanna see wha'ss good, or was there somethin' else?”

“Honestly?” 

“Wouldn’t ask for anything else, Miss V.” 

“She’s high risk as far as clients go. Shady as fuck, naïve as all hell, and genuinely thought she could make me another offer.” 

“Another offer?” Dex’s brow raises about his sunglasses. 

“Wanted me to cut you out for more cash, told her no, of course. But, wouldn’t do business with her again, if I were you.” 

“Cut me out… shiiiit, now that’s rich,” Dex laughs, Jackie nervously laughing along, “Clients... never learn, do they?” 

“You’re not pissed?” 

“Lived in NC too long to blow my top every time some amateur thinks they can take me for a ride. Parker ain't the first and sure as hell won't be the last.”

“Fair enough,” V lets out a sigh, thankful if nothing else that Dex doesn’t seem prone to getting too mad at Evelyn. Maybe she’s being too kind, but she can’t help but think Evelyn is more naive than malicious when it comes to the offer. A stranger to the merc world. 

“I do appreciate you sharin' this info, though, Miss V. You see, trust… …is essential in any partnership that's to be long-lasting and fruitful.”

“Figured you had a right to know, so, what’s the plan?” 

“This.”

Dex gestures towards the shards on the table, V takes the one in front of her and slides it into her shard slot.  UI and graphics lighting up her mask, a map pulling up on the tech. 

“Me and Dex've already covered the fine detes. Ops wise, should be a stroll on the beach.”

“Elaborate, I wanna hear it.” 

“A Delamain'll drop your asses at the front door of Konpeki Plaza,” a picture of the hotel shows,  then two names, “You'll stroll right in thanks to your false identities. Then, with Bug's help, you'll breach the hotel's subnet…”

“Mine and the Flathead's help.” Images of the hotel’s interior and the bot flash by. 

“Last but not least, you slip into Yorinobu's penthouse and klep the Relic,” his words bring up images of the heir and his suite.

“Goes without sayin' we do this on the hush - ideally no bodies, not a one.” The shard shows them The Relic and then blips out. 

“You'll have T-Bug on comms for the duration. Time for your burnin' questions.”

“What’s our cover?” V asks, they’ve been told a thousand times they’ll be acting like corpos, but that’d be hard to do if they have no idea what their story is suppose to be. 

“Hello, Ramón Victorino,” T-Bug looks at Jackie and then to V, “and you’re Hannah Conwell.” 

“Ramón - yeah, OK. What do we say we're there for?”

“Biz as usual. Corpo arms deal. Case anyone asks, you there for a bogus meetin' with Arasaka's defense rep - Hajime Taki. Anything else?”

“How do we get in the penthouse?”

“Yorinobu's got barely any muscle. Hardest part'll be penthouse security. If we wanna disable, we'll need to neutralize Konpeki's dweller - elite ‘runner monitoring the hotel's subnet twenty-four seven. Only catch is there's no way to get in the dweller's den from the outside.”

“Hold on, how you want us to get inside a room you can't get into?”

“Trust me when I say whatever hitch you think up. T-Bug's solved it already”

“This is where the Flathead comes in. You'll have to get him in the ventilation shafts, guide him to the dweller and force the dweller to… take a break. Flathead'll stay there, jacked into the dweller, but thanks to that I’ll be able to roll out your red carpet into the penthouse.”

“Anything else?”

“Transports a Delamain?” She has no idea if the company has an ASL sign like most other corporations and doesn’t have time to think of one on the fly. 

“Preemest cab company in all Night City… Nada mal,” hackie tells her. 

“DeShawn don't ever work with anyone but the best. I consider Delamain just that.”

“Yeah, who needs creepy, nosy cab drivers when you've got a clean AI to get you from point A to point B in style?”

“And how he bags a permit to operate every year's still a mystery.”

“If everythin' goes as planned, Delamain'll drop you back here. If things get sticky, he'll head for the safe house.”

“Which is?”

“The No-Tell Motel. Quiet, no questions asked. Make our next move from there. But I'm flat certain that won't be necessary. Though, there is one more consideration for if it does.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Hate to put you on the spot, Miss V,” Dex explains, “but if shit goes sour, I’m gonna need to know who I’m letting into the hotel. Mask can’t go with to Konpeki, so I’d sure feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what was hiding behind that thing.” 

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense.”  

Even if she’d have Jackie with her when shit goes down,  Dex is trusting her with this heist. The least she can do is trust him to see her face and not write her off or sell her out to The Herd if the chance arised. Not that she can see that happening anyway… 

“Don’t even know why you wore the thing in, V,” Jackie teases. 

“Well, there are other fixers here, didn’t want to give away my face…” 

V carefully pulls off her mask, feeling exposed all over again, a new set of eyes on her face. The merc knows how she looks; five feet with a head of bleach blonde hair and big gray eyes. Not the picture one conjures in their mind when they think of a capable, strong, badass merc. Sprinkle in her disability and the reactions to her deafness; most people think she’s not a threat, weak. 

“That what you’ve been hiding behind that mask? All that fuss, for what?” Dex laughs. 

“Hard to take,” she stumbles over her English trying to sign at the same time, “be taken- seriously sometimes when you’re five foot nothing, deaf, and look like…” 

“Gutterpunk Barbie,” Jackie cuts in to tease, earning him a sharp kick to the shin. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Trust me, Miss V, you pull off this job; ain’t nobody in their right mind gonna underestimate you” 

“That’s the hope...”

“Any other questions?” 

“I got a question. When do we get to the real reason we're all here?” Jackie asks, shooting a wink V’s way. 

“Now's a good a time as any. Fresh talent gets thirty percent always, but I'm willin' to make an exception in your case. I'ma cut you a nice, juicy forty as a bonus for your honesty, V.”

“Much appreciated.” 

“Ka-ching baby!~” 

“Last thing, Konpeki's got a strict no-iron policy. Security gates, the works. So you dawgs'll leave your lead-spitters in the ride, take the Flathead inside in its case.”

“Got your suits from Jinguji on the table.” 

“¡Chido!”

“Thanks, Bug.” 

“So, not to count chickens, but when'll we see our eddies?”

“All depends how Ms. Parker unrolls herself or her role, but a week, two tops is my guess.”

“And what do we do in the mean time?” 

“You sit tight, heads down, 'cause ol' uncle Arasaka be watching. Now, as that ol’ Greek dawg says, life's a banquet - so don't go thirsty, but don't get drunk, either,” he tells them as he leaves the booth, “Your chariot awaits outside.”

“My cue to delta, too. Gotta prep to jack in, be there when you come on comms. Any other issues, now's your chance,” T-Bug tells them, shifting her feet and something catches V’s eye. Delta V emblazoned on the netrunner’s boots, was that there before?

“Plan - your take?” V shakes the thought from her head, must be a brand or a runner thing V doesn’t know.

“Enough, I hope, to put me in a luxury Creton Villa from which I'll never set foot in cyberspace again.”

“Send me a postcard?” 

“No offense, but I'm gonna burn any and all bridges - need a clean break.”

“Gonna take Misty’s bracelet with you?” Jackie teases, grinning because he caught it too. 

“Shut up,” she tells him, rolling her eyes. 

“Uh, just realized something, what’s gonna happen to our clothes? I don’t want to lose my mask…” 

“No worries, put them in the boxes, we’ll have ‘em sent back to your places.” 

“Alright then, lets get this show on the road.” 

“Let's get to work, go ahead and get changed, Delamain is parked out front, uh, okay-”Bug starts to trip over her words when the two mercs start taking off their jackets, “you can use the bathrooms.” 

“Eh,”

Jackie and V shrug their shoulders, the outfits are right there. Not much point in dragging them out to the bathroom. The pair shared a bedroom for the better half of six months, a room with one bed. They’ve seen each other naked plenty, boundaries destroyed a long while back. 

“Why do I bother,” T-Bug rolls her eyes and leaves the booth, letting the pair change. 

V kicks off her boots and takes off her socks, Jackie tugging off his jewelry first. 

“So, you’re nerves still going crazy?” Jackie asks her as she tugs off her shirt, his own tossed off. 

“What do you mean?”  She tugs off her pants, both mercs soon standing around in their underwear. 

“Can’t hide that shit from me, chica, been giving me twice as much hell as usual. You’re freaking out.” 

“High stakes, Jack, of course I’m a nervous mess. Means I give a shit.” 

She pulls the slack on and tugs on the white blouse, buttoning it up. The two of them putting on the corpo clothes, similar in look. Black slacks, white button up tops, black suit jackets, and Misty’s beaded bracelets for protection. Each perfectly tailored for their body types. 

“Don’t sweat it so much, V, we got this.” He sticks his fist out. 

“Sure fuckin’ hope so.” She bumps her fist to his. 

Their street clothes are packed away in the boxes, V puts in her optic contacts and slide on her heels, then they start to make their way out of the booth. But, Jackie stops her with a hand on her shoulder and he taps his throat. She catches on taking off her choker translator, neck feeling bare and odd without the tech. With that they leave out through the club, Jackie carrying the Flathead case and the smaller merc keeps her head down as best she can. Her stomach still in knots as they spot the Delamain in the parking lot. 

Her life is about to change forever; hopefully for the best. She’s on the cusp of having everything she’s wanted since she’s come to the city. The verge of earning the respect of everyone in this city and finally feeling like she’s someone, like she’s done something. 

So, why does she feel like she’s about to puke?

[fremedon]

Brickclub 3.3.7, “A Bit of Skirt,” and 3.3.8, “Marble Versus Granite”

I feel like I don’t have much to say here that @everyonewasabird hasn’t said in his writeups of these two chapters, so I’m just going to stick a pin in Marius’s internalization of the word ‘ingrate’ and the recurring image of a character turned to stone and write up what else I’ve got, since tomorrow we hit Almost Historic. (And we’re spending the rest of the week, and the next two, on the six chapters of 3.4, “The Friends of the ABC.”

Observations, in no particular order:

--We’re revisiting the notion of destructive curiosity--rapacious curiosity, even, in the way Gillenormand and Aunt Gillenormand pry into Marius’s affairs here. And I’m struck by how well Théodule comes off despite also getting drawn personally into discovering Marius’s secrets: “And no longer acting for someone else but out of personal curiosity, like dogs that hunt on their own account, he started to follow Marius.”

He even gets a dog metaphor! Those are never good! He literally stalks Marius on tip-toe, which is a hilarious image. But, like Fauchelevent, he satisfies his curiosity and doesn’t use what he’s learned--he doesn’t inform on Marius, for money and favor or for scandal-mongering.

--Théodule deals much better than any other member of the Gillenormand family with being proved wrong. He jumps to the same conclusion Gillenormand does--Aunt G feels “her conviction grow irresistably from that word ‘sweetheart’ delivered in almost exactly the same way by great-uncle and great-nephew”--but when he actually sees that Marius’s rendezvous has been with a grave...it weirds him out, a lot, but he does actually take this new information on board and modify his behavior accordingly. Good job, Théodule.

--The narrator is lying, or misdirecting more than he usually he does here: “[Théodule] came to Paris rarely, so rarely that Marius had never seen him. The cousins knew each other only by name.” Marius has never seen Théodule, at least not to put a name to him and remember him, but Théodule recognizes Marius perfectly well.

(I assume that Marius met Théodule years ago, when he was a child and Théodule was a teenager, and remembers Théodule as being a foot taller than him with bad skin and mismatched features. He has never made the connection to the handsome man of middling height who sometimes visits his aunt. And no one’s thought to introduce them, because of course Marius has met Théodule!)

--Marius speaks “stiffly, with eyes downcast.” Like Fantine, he noticeably avoids eye contact when under stress.

--Just before that:

Marius reddened slightly and replied, “It means I’m my father’s son.” Monsieur Gillenormand stopped laughing and said harshly, “I'm your father.”

The contrast between Gillenormand’s insistence on paternity and Valjean’s attempts to disavow his is sure...something.

--Priest imagery alert: “[Marius] was the priest who sees all his holy wafers thrown to the wind, the fakir who sees a passer-by spit on his idol.”

--Fatalité alert: “There are always these little accidents of fate that complicate domestic dramas. As a result, resentments increase although no additional wrongs may have been done.” In this case, Nicolette drops Marius’s locket on the dark staircase, and Marius assumes it’s been destroyed.

--T/V variation alert: Gillenormand, “[l]eft with a vast reserve of fury to expend and not knowing how to vent it,” addresses his daughter as vous for more than three months.

--I am fascinated by the convoluted entry we get into Volume III, the Paris half of the book, and its characters. We’ve taken our time getting into Volumes I and II, but our introduction to the characters was mostly packaged up into pretty discrete chunks: We had one book on the bishop, one on Valjean, a digression of one short chapter, and then followed Fantine as as our viewpoint character for the next three books. In Volume II, we had one book of Waterloo, ending with a glimpse of Thénardier and Pontmercy; then a brief, outside-POV look at Valjean; and then book III sketches Cosette’s world in two quick chapters on Montfermeil and the Thénardiers and stays in her POV until Valjean arrives, whereupon we rejoin him.

In Book III, I’ve been trying to follow what you would actually know of the characters when, on a first reading with no knowledge of the plot, and it’s wild. 

We get most of a book on gamins in general; one chapter of Gavroche’s intro, which is completely at odds with the character we’ll eventually get to know; a mention that the family that kicked him out (of their room in the Gorbeau House) is named Jondrette and that his mother loves his sisters, which is the first and so far the only clue we have to the Jondrettes’ identity; and, as the last two lines of book 1, “The cell next door was occupied by a very poor young man called Monsieur Marius. Let us explain who this Monsieur Marius was.”

...and then we jump into a whole book of eight chapters on Gillenormand. The last few lines of chapter 8 establishes that he has a grandson, still unnamed, and says “We shall return to this child”--which we do only after meeting the Ultra salons, then Georges, and then only toward the end of Georges’s chapter do we learn that his son is the aforementioned Marius. (And it takes all of Book IV, and the introductions of all of the Amis, to get Marius into the Gorbeau House.)

We talked a lot in Book I about the time it took us to properly meet Valjean, and all the outside viewpoints we get before we really get into his head, but compared to Marius’s introduction the book is *really direct* about Valjean. The narrative sneaks up on him as if he’s a cat we’re trying to pill, and I’m not sure why.