#i fucked up one of the screw hinges and it fell off. twice. so one side is screwed on and the other side is ... falling apart

[munchboxart]

Did I ever show off my PC adventures here

My GPU is literally held up by 2 sticks

[cynettic]

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

[cryysiswritesthings]

The Multi-verse Theory || UFC

Series: Inuyasha, Modern AU Rating: Mature Warnings: N/A Status: On-going Pairing: KogKag Summary:

Something caught his opponent’s attention. Gold eyes flicked to the side once, twice, before lighting up with recognition. Split lips lifted in a smirk, a single fang glinting in the overhead lights. His stance shifted, newfound resolve strengthening overworked muscles.

Kouga knew that look. When it was genuine, he’d watched winning contenders get slaughtered by their opponents. But you always knew when it was faked. The loser would put on a show, try to get in a few jabs, and then lose their false confidence at the knockout. But for a guy like this…

The scent hit him then. Subtle and hard to make out through pounds of sweat-soaked bodies. Vanilla and sandalwood.

Damn it all. She’d shown up.

Find it On: AO3

Tumblr Tags: #kogkag #inuyasha #multiverse #ufc fighting

His coaches were yelling in the background, but he couldn’t hear them over the crowd’s roar and the blood rushing in his ears. The half-breed was breathing hard, spitting blood to the floor. He was a flagging; a few more hits and he’d be down for the count. Bastard put up a better fight than he’d expected, but it hadn’t been enough. Not even close.

Something caught his opponent’s attention. Gold eyes flicked to the side once, twice, before lighting up with recognition. Split lips lifted in a smirk, a single fang glinting in the overhead lights. His stance shifted, newfound resolve strengthening overworked muscles.

Kouga knew that look. When it was genuine, he’d watched winning contenders get slaughtered by their opponents. But you always knew when it was faked. The loser would put on a show, try to get in a few jabs, and then lose their false confidence at the knockout. But for a guy like this…

The scent hit him then. Subtle and hard to make out through pounds of sweat-soaked bodies. Vanilla and sandalwood.

Damn it all. She’d shown up.

Kouga wiped at the sweat dripping down his head, using the motion to hide his grimace of annoyance. Somehow, her presence had a way of screwing him over every time. Just like now. A moment ago, he’d had this fight in the bag.

Looked like he was wrong.

–

Kouga sat alone, head hanging in gloved hands while the crowd cheered outside. He’d been so close. So damn fucking close. It was almost laughable.

Three combos and an uppercut. That’s all it had taken. Total knockout. And it was all her fucking fault.

Metal hinges creaked, telling him someone had come to witness his defeat. Likely one of the coaches coming to give him another ‘pep talk--’ 

He caught the scent of dog. He bared his teeth, the expression hidden in his gloves.

Dog, sandalwood, and vanilla.

Her heels clacked against the concrete floor, but Kouga didn’t lift his head. It was the scrape of a metal chair against the concrete that finally made him look at her, glacial eyes brimming with a mixture of amusement and rage.

Raven black hair fell against her back in waves, storm grey eyes lined with kohl. Her shirt was navy satin; her black skirt stopped above her knees, showing off creamy skin and smooth legs. In her manicured hands was a small tape recorder, its red light shining power. Glitter pink lips lifted in a smile.

Kagome Higurashi. Reporter for the Sports Radar.

He’d been a goner the second he laid eyes on her.

“Kouga, the self-proclaimed Wolf of the ring. Three-time tournament champion, tonight’s victory will send him on a one-way trip to the national semi-finals. Or at least,” Kagome’s smile shifted, becoming an amused grin. He had to fight not to return it. “It was supposed to.”

“Nice to see you too, Higurashi,” Kouga growled crossly, finally letting his hands drop..

“Tell us Kouga, after that… sudden, epic defeat, how are you feeling? It has to be tough, knowing you were so close, and then seconds later having it all ripped away from you.”

His gaze flicked between her face and the glowing light on the recorder. His coaches hated it when he fucked up interviews. Too bad he didn’t really care.

He straightened on the bench with a tired sigh. “You here supporting my opponents now? Thought I was your favorite.” 

Pleased, she mimicked the motion. “I don’t come to offer my personal support. I just do interviews with contenders.” Her grin sharpened. “And write glowing reviews of the winners.”

‘Glowing reviews.’ Yeah, all that white hair had nearly blinded him at the start of the match. “And when this is over, how long is it going to take you to ask his opinion about my answers?”

She tapped her chin, thoughtful. “I suppose that depends. Sports fans always like hearing about their favorites losing to the underdog.” He wondered if she’d be able to hear her smile when she listened to the recording later. “Even if it is just to scream about the match being rigged.”

“If you’re there it may as well be,” he groused. He glowered at the recorder. “Turn that fucking thing off, unless you want those sports fans to hear something they shouldn’t.”

She laughed and rose. “Why Kouga,” with practiced ease, she flicked the switch and pocketed the recorder. Finally. “Whatever could you mean?”

Kouga growled and tugged her into his lap. “Woman…”

Kagome smiled and brushed the tip of her nose against his. “Problem, champ?”

“Ex-champ,” he said sourly, then nipped her chin sharply. “So thanks for that.”

She snickered, unashamed, and ran slim fingers through his sweat-soaked bangs. “I’d say I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t really be true.”

“Mh-hm.” He let his eyes close and savored the feeling of her nails dragging over his scalp. “How much longer are you here for?“

She shrugged, tugging at the tie in his hair until it came free. The hand not in his hair cupped the back of his neck and scratched at the soft skin. “Could be a while. Managers want me to cozy up with the new champ.”

Kouga’s lips lifted in a snarl, his peace momentarily shattered. Clawed fingers pulled her satin shirt from beneath her skirt, his large hand a brand of heat against her side. “Yeah, I know. I hate it.”

He didn’t see Kagome’s smile, but the kiss she pressed to his lips was meant to soothe. His chest rumbled; he didn’t appreciate the placation, but let her do it anyway. He liked her feisty, but she tasted that much sweeter when he played at understanding.

She brushed her cheek over his jaw, her breath warm against his ear. “You know no matter what they ask me to do,” she whispered, “you’re the one I come home to. That’s not going to change.”

He bit his tongue to cut off his immediate response. Instead, he wrapped his free hand in her hair and directed her face to his. He returned her earlier gesture, a soft brush of the tip of his nose against hers. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.“

Satisfied, Kagome hummed and dripped kisses over his lips and jaw. “I wouldn’t ask you too. There is one good thing about this though.” She paused. “Well, two things, if you want to think about it.”

Kouga’s snort was all the answer he needed. Rather than keep talking, he pressed kisses over her neck and nipped gently at the delicate skin. Her soft gasp encouraged him, but it didn’t erase the burn of his jealousy. The dark bruises he sucked on her neck helped.

“Kouga…”

He released her, but only to hike the edge of her skirt up to her thighs. “Problem, Kagome?”

Her whimper answered him. His smile was wicked; he kept his mouth busy at her neck to hear more of those sounds, the scent of her arousal hovering in his nose. When her skirt was high enough, she straddled his lap of her own volition. His hands covered the tops of her thighs and pulled her closer. There was just enough space between them for her to undo the first buttons of her blouse and reveal fine black lace, peppered with shining crystals, over the white silk of her bra.

Kouga growled low, and in his anger he drug his fangs over her throat. “This had better not be for him. Tell me that isn’t for him.”

Kagome gasped in surprise and shook her head. “It’s not,” she tugged his face from her neck with his hair. Blue eyes locked, firm with intent. “I didn’t wear this for him. It’s a present. I got it for you.”

His anger subsided, soothed by the admission. Kouga slid his fingers higher under her skirt. “Matching set?”

She bit her lip and nodded, sliding the fabric up to her waist. The sides were black ribbon, neat bows keeping the fabric in place. There was a column of black lace over the center of white silk, and more black ribbon sitting atop it, a double-cross lacing that stretched from one end of the lace to the other. 

But the pièce de résistance of her lingerie took shape in the large tear-drop crystal at its center, a beacon to draw the eye and keep it there.

Kouga’s smirk was all predator, his rumble of pleasure vibrating in her chest. The sound set off sparks of heat everywhere in her body. One place in particular.

The scent of her arousal filled his nose, and he swelled with pride. He nibbled her ears' outer shell, making the woman in his arms shiver. “You want me.”

“Yes,” she said quietly, and bit her lip when he pulled at the ties. “Kouga, wait…”

“Why?” His jealousy flared again; he rocked his hips upwards and his erection against her slowly dripping core. “Your new friend waiting for you?”

“Yes,” she snapped back, growing tired of the game, “he is.” That had always been a part of the deal, no matter how much he disliked it. He wasn’t allowed to interfere with her work. But she didn’t want to fight, so she tried to soften her tone.

“I have to finish my interview,” she tilted her head back and rose to her knees, putting herself above him. “And we both know how you get. Once we get started, you can’t stop.”

Kouga narrowed his eyes. “I don’t ever hear you complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” she laughed, kissing the bridge of his nose. “I would just rather not start a sex marathon in the locker room when I have to be somewhere.”

The wolf snorted. “I don’t see the problem.”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “The problem, champ,” she teased, finding her feet so she could stand, “is that you don’t like being interrupted. And I don’t want to have to worry about my responsibilities when you’re pounding into me.”

She laughed at his scowl, but the wolf didn’t mind. Not really. Instead, he watched her set her clothes to rights. “You said he’s not seeing those?” She hummed an affirmative while she fumbled with a button. Kouga stood and took over for her. “Then we compromise.”

His reporter raised a brow. “I’m listening.”

He backed her into a wall, trapping her with his body. “I let you finish your interview with… minimal complaints,” he ignored her snicker. “But I only got to see part of this new set.”

“Mm, that’s true.” She tilted her head to the side to give him access to her throat. He accepted the offer and set his teeth against his previous marks. “And I did spend so long picking it out.”

“Exactly. It should be properly appreciated.” It was hard to resist the urge to pick up her and wrap her legs around his waist, but he managed it. “So you go finish your interview, and I let the assholes yell at me for a bit. But when I get home…” he drew a claw down her side. “I want you laid out in my bed. With just my present.”

Just the idea made her quiver; heat pooled low in her belly. “I think I can manage something.”

His smile showed glinting fangs.

“I thought you’d say that.”

[innittowinit]

Abandoned amusement parks are the best place for young children (chapter 15)

Fic summary:

Techno, Tommy, Wilbur and Phil have been hanging out at the abandoned amusement park in the woods since they moved in. Techno likes knowing he's definitely alone with his brothers Tommy likes climbing on the old rides Wilbur likes having a place to play his music Phil likes spending time with his younger brothers

That is, until a group of brothers calling themselves the 'dream team' move in down the road. Will the sleepy boys give in and share the park or will they succeed in scaring the new kids off?

Chapter summary:  

 same time period as last chapter! Techno and dream perspective this time

Chapter word count: 2849

AO3

Listen, he didn’t want to leave. Techno knew that neither him nor Wil were able to function very well apart. He knew he’d hurt Wilbur if he ran off, but it’s not like he had predicted the door getting stuck, truly he had thought once Wilbur realised he was gone he would just come over and chill out with him.

The yelling had just gotten too much. There had been so much noise and he just wanted a break, his mind had felt fuzzy and it was getting hard to distinguish his own thoughts from what was going on around him, an anxious pressure built in his chest that made him want to either scream or hit someone.

It was just so loud.

Tugging on Wilbur’s sleeve was usually the sign he gave when things were getting too much, countless times he’d done so in school and Wilbur had rushed him out of the situation, without any kind of hesitancy or worry that he might get in trouble for doing so. Which he had.   That being said, he wasn’t sure if Wil had ever been the reason he was feeling this way before, he was always considerate and tried his best to do what was best - of course he was still human and had blips where he might get overwhelmed himself, or maybe he was too stressed about something and wasn’t able to help.

Those situations always felt terrible to be in, they made Techno mad beyond belief but he always calmed back down eventually. Whilst he was pretty closed off, he was never one to hold a grudge and he generally understood that Wil was his own person with his own emotions and he couldn’t always rely on him to do everything.

He didn’t want to rely on him. It felt stupid and infantilising to not be able to do things yourself, That being said, he appreciated his brother greatly.

So, when Wil was far too heated to help, Techno had tried his best to endure the situation. No matter how light headed he got, he knew Wil would freak out if he left, so he stayed. For a while it was okay, it was stressful and awkward but he was okay.

That was until the proper yelling started. When they had moved from calling each other annoying and selfish to genuinely attacking each other as people. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew he needed to just take a break, Wilbur would understand. He knew Wil knew he was getting overwhelmed so of course Wilbur would understand.

Nobody noticed when he left, that’s what he had thought, despite the fact that he had been frantically running for a place to calm down. Since they had been sitting on the coaster just moments before, the most logical place to hide seemed to be the ticket booth. Wrapping his long hair back into a ponytail, the boy carefully crept into the old building, keeping the door open behind him as he hadn’t planned to stay long.

The floor had speckled pieces of glass all over it, stemming from vandals that had come over the years, the old counter was surprisingly clean though so that’s where he decided to sit, back leaning against the rusted old shutters. The idea that one day someone had closed this place up after work and never came back was a weird mix of haunting and calming, like it showed just how easily places can get lost to time. Not wanting rust in his hair, he had pulled the ponytail out from behind him and placed it over his shoulder, braiding it slowly to pass the time.

The braid wasn’t exactly good or pretty, Niki was usually the one who would braid his hair, she was the one who had taught him too but he supposed he didn’t have the coordination or patience to make it look presentable at all.

From inside the booth, he could still hear the echoes of yelling but it was much more muffled now, it provided a nice easy middle-ground where he wasn’t too far from his brothers and could easily go to them if he heard anything bad happen, but it was also quiet enough that he was able to hear his own thoughts again. Thank god.

Peace never seemed to last long anymore though, not now that the Dream Team were apparently so adamant on becoming friends. He guessed so anyway, he had been listening to the start of the argument and George seemed genuinely sorry about everything.

“Hey!” A voice had come from right outside the booth, footsteps of someone jogging along with that too.

Before he knew it, Dream had ran into the booth, closing the door behind him -out of habit, Techno guessed- and then started walking towards Techno. There was a crash and a blur of green before the boy was on the floor, having tripped over some of the debris, reminding Techno that the majority of people weren’t used to the vast amount of shit that was just spewn over the park from it’s previous owners.

Maybe if it was any of his brothers he would have laughed at the trip, it was comical to say the least. But the floor was covered in glass and dirt and God knows what else.

Not the best stuff to be laying in, that’s for sure.

Hopping down off the counter and running his hand through his hair to get rid of the braid, he made his way to the boy and tried to help him up, at least he didn’t seem to be upset.

“Oh god!” He chuckled, his laugh was almost a wheeze, Techno thought if they were ever friends he might tease him about it. “Dude! You ran off, I just wanted to make sure you were alright”

He rubbed his hands, scratched and dirty, against his hoodie to  get some of the grime off as he sat against the wall, seemingly not caring about everything he was sitting in.

It was almost like a movie, Techno thought, how he laughed and got up only for everything to come crashing down.

There was a thin crack going from the top middle to the bottom middle of his mask, admittedly it didn’t look all too serious until Dream had sat up, laughing like a kettle, that it had snapped in two, both pieces of plastic dangling off his ears while the elastic held them pathetically.

The boy’s face displayed genuine horror and embarrassment, as if he had been caught without trousers on or something. To Techno, the idea of wanting to hide your face to the same degree you’d hide your privates seemed crazy, that being said he couldn’t fully judge him for that when he wouldn’t even talk.

Snapping back to reality, Techno looked away sharply. He might not fully understand why he was hiding his face but he wanted to respect his privacy nonetheless, he knew he’d feel pretty mortified if Dream listened to him talk or something, he guessed it was the same kind of thing.

He hated to admit it, but he had got a glimpse of his face, there was a purple coloured mark that spread over half his face, he wasn’t sure if it was a burn, scar or birthmark since it had been such a short glimpse though. Speckled across his cheeks, light orange freckles decorated his face, reaching from his lips,squeezed shut in embarrassment, to his eyes, wide and wild.

As if it couldn't get any better, apparently the noise of Dream’s fall had been loud enough to alert everyone that they were in the booth and very quickly Wilbur was banging on the door in hysterics. Hiding his face in his dirty palms, Dream attempted to open the door but found that it wasn’t moving.

Well fuck.

To say that Techno felt guilty would be an understatement, not only was Wilbur outside the door, practically taking it off its hinges with the amount of force he was exerting on it, Dream too had got hurt from Techno running off, he had fallen and scraped up his hands but, more importantly, he had broken his mask.

“It’s me and Techno!” Dream had called out, once he realised there was no point waiting for Techno to do it. “I think the door’s stuck”

Wilbur seemed to fumble with the door a little while longer before giving up and leaning against it, his voice sounded like he was in physical pain from not being with Techno, it felt horrible knowing he’d caused this. The brunette gave him simple instructions, one knock for yes and two for no. It was an easy way of communicating when they couldn’t even read body language

“Are you mad at me?”

He knocked twice, why would he be mad? Wil messed up but so had he. They’d both made emotional decisions without regard for the other, they’d screwed each other over and it could have easily been avoided with communication.

That being said, communication was hard when you’re seething with rage, so of course Techno wasn’t mad.

“Did I piss you off?”

Honestly? Yes he had. Whenever Wil, or any of his brothers, did something like this it pissed him off. It had been a small decision but it had hurt him so of course it pissed him off, so he gave one knock, not wanting to lie to his brother about how the situation made him feel. They had had plenty of conversations with their Therapist about how if they aren’t honest, situations can repeat themselves.

The next thing he heard was an apology, then he assumed Wil was talking to the other two members of the Dream Team since the conversation trailed off more into them trying to help him.

He was glad Wil wasn’t alone right now.

Looking behind him, Dream was still curled up, trying to hide his face with his grubby hands but it wasn’t working very well, there were still parts peeking through and that was obviously upsetting him by the way he frantically tried to move them into the right position. Not only that but it wasn’t like his hands were exactly clean either, they probably still had glass on from when he fell and they definitely were still covered in dirt.

The idea of him getting something like that in his eye made his stomach flip so, trying his hardest not to look directly at his face area, Techno took off his red coat and handed it to Dream, making a motion of putting it to his face before sitting down next to him.

Thankfully Dream was smart. He put his face in the hood of the coat and fasted the button on the back of his neck so it wouldn’t fall down.

“God, I bet I look like an idiot don't I?” The boy chuckled, using his hands to smooth it out to make sure nothing was visible.

“Thank you, I know we’ve been kinda the worst to you guys the past few weeks. I know it sounds like an excuse but we really didn’t mean to hurt you, we thought it was all a game y'know? You’re nice though. We kinda think the same, I think”

Techno nodded, Dream was intelligent and strategic and strong, they both had their problems but despite that they both also had their own personalities. While Techno was more reserved in public, being more assertive and confident when he was with his loved ones, Dream was the opposite, strong and assertive until he was comfortable, which is when the insecurities came back.

They were both very similar people, Dream knew they had the capacity to be friends if he worked hard at it.

“You didn’t….You didn’t see anything right?”

Above anything else, Techno hadn’t been expecting him to say that, of course it made sense, he didn’t show his face for a reason, but his demeanor had shifted so easily.

Dream was hard to read, he wasn’t even sure if he should tell the truth here. Lying was bad, he knew that, but sometimes telling the truth could hurt people.

Eventually, after almost a minute of staring blankly, Techno decided telling the truth was always the correct thing to do, even if it hurt in the short term maybe it would be better in the long term.

With extreme hesitancy, Techno nodded his head.

Dream’s breath seemed to hitch.

“It’s just- We moved around so much growing up right? I’ve had that mark for as long as I can remember! But people don’t understand when they see it, they think it’s weird and ugly and they’d always make fun of it when I went to new schools! And then...Then one day I bought a mask and it was so much better! Nobody thought that was ugly, they thought it was weird but weird is better than weird and ugly”

Words seemed to be coming out a mile a minute, if Techno didn’t know better, he would have guessed Dream had never had anyone to vent like this to before. Thinking back, he tried to remember how Phil comforted him whenever he was upset. It was mainly hugs and kind words.

Wrapping an arm around Dream had been the easy part, he may not have an intense craving for contact but if someone was upset he was hardly going to deprive them of it. The hard part was the ‘kind words’ section, for a moment he wondered if he could get away with staying silent but he distinctly remembered that Phil’s kind words were really the main thing that helped.

Fuck

Tuning everything out, Techno tried to focus all of his energy into talking, his throat and tongue felt swollen and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. Thinking back yet again, he tried to remember techniques his speech therapist had taught both him and Wilbur. He wasn’t even trying to say anything yet and the sheer thought of talking had him feeling like he might hurl. There was one in particular that he was good at; Wil was supposed to say one number and Techno would say the next and so on. It was designed to slowly ease him into talking without the added stress of accidentally saying the wrong thing.

Wil wasn’t here right now though.

So he tried the next best thing, Dream.

Just rip it off, like a band-aid. Just rip it off, like a band-aid. Just rip it off, like a band-aid.

“One..” he muttered, almost inaudible as anxiety coursed through his veins, praying that Dream would understand what he was trying. Every bone in his body was telling him that he was somehow playing a dangerous game by talking, he just had to keep reminding himself that objectively there was nothing to be afraid of, he reminded himself of how proud Phil would be when he was able to tell him that he had managed it and on his own.

Dream didn’t seem to understand. He just sat staring at Techno with wide eyes, having clearly become accustomed to the boy being silent.

“You spoke?”

Techno nodded and then nodded again, towards his hands, showing one finger, then two fingers a couple times.

“Two?”

The smile on Techno’s face said it all, they’d practiced this technique so many times that he was sure he could get the words out now that Dream knew what they were doing.

“Three.”

Despite his smile and seemingly confident nature, his voice was evident that he was still very much anxious about what was happening.

“Four!”

Dream was smiling too now, not that Techno could see it through the hood, but it showed in his voice. He wasn’t sure if Dream really knew what was happening or if he thought they were counting for fun but he was glad the boy was helping anyway.

Together, they counted up to 30, Techno’s voice very slowly getting more and more confident and stable. By the time they were at 30, Techno’s voice still wasn’t exactly perfect, or nearly as strong as it was when he was with his brothers, but it was decent.

Looking away made talking easier, so he looked at the old rusted shutters and fiddled with his hair, absentmindedly braiding it as he sorted out what he was going to say in his head.

Phil was going to be so proud of him.

“It’s going to be okay. You’ll feel good about it one day”

The words were cut short and stiff, it had felt like he was having to physically push them out of his throat as he said it but God. He was so proud of himself.  

“Techno!!” Dream had practically squealed as he hugged the other boy “Thank you so much. I hope you know the same applies to you! One day you’re gonna be as loud as Tommy”

Techno smiled but rolled his eyes at that.

Nobody could ever be as loud as Tommy.

[pra370r1an]

Lost Santos Dreams - TOH/Fake AH Crossover

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233251   TW: Blood, Violence, Death

New to Los Santos, the Beta crew dream to make it big. However, they're about to learn the hard way why the top gang has an almost mythical status in the criminal underworld...

“I’m not wearing that!”

“Oh, calm down. It’s cute!”

“I said I wanted a lion, Noceda!” Amity snarled.

“It is a lion!” Luz held up the lion mask, complete with a bright cheerful smile and rosy cheeks.

“I wanted a fierce one, not a children’s mask! There was a bloody lion mask there last week, why didn’t you get that one!?”

“Then you should have bought them! Besides this way we match!” Luz held up her own mask, a winking otter with a wide smile. “Back me up here Willow!”

Willow sat driving next to Luz, sunny sunflower mask already on her face. She turned and briefly glanced at Luz, who was half turned around to see Amity in the back of the van.

“This seems like a lot of arguing for something we are going to destroy later, since its EVIDENCE.”

“Oh, you’re both no fun,” Luz sat back and pouted. She tossed the lion mask into the back, “Just wear the damn thing, Blight.”

A voice crackled in her earpiece, “Are you guys done fighting each other? Cuz there’s still a job to do.”

Willow raised a finger to her ear to respond, “They’re fine Gus. Just how they are. Now we’re almost there so codenames people. Illusionist run us through one last time.”

“You got it Venus. The three of you go in. Princess kills security and controls the crowd while Luzura beelines to the tellers and stops the panic buttons.”

“Don’t fuck it up Luzura,” Amity teased from the backseat.

“SHHH, I’m trying to listen,” Luz whispered overly dramatically while pointing towards her earpiece.

“Quiet in the peanut gallery,” Gus deadpanned. “Meanwhile, Venus grabs the manager and grabs whatever she can from the vault.” Willow grunted from the front seat, too focused on driving in a mask to contribute. “All the while, I’ll work my magic and keep the alarms off and the cops off your backs. Simple.”

“It’s never that simple Twerp,” Amity grumbled as she put the mask on, and fixed her hair over it. The dyed green hair forming the lion’s mane around her mask.

“Why do you keep calling me that, Princess?” Gus groaned. “Alright I’m all set up here, ready to go when you are.”

“We’re here,” Willow pulled over outside of Grand National Bank.

“What’s that tag?” Luz looked at some graffiti on the bank by an alley, a green rubber duckie encircled in a green crosshair.

“It’s how gangs claim territory in Los Santos,” Amity double checked her rifle before cocking it. “It’s nothing to worry about. No self-respecting gang would use a rubber duckie,” She scoffed.

“You did check this place with Ed- er… the Owl Lady, right?” Luz asked Willow. “I don’t want our first official act in this city to be piss off a major gang.”

“It’s fine Luzura,” Willow double checked her body armor.

“Would you stop worrying?” Amity snapped. “We’ll be in and out before anyone is the wiser.”

Luz glared back at Amity, “Fine.” She grabbed her bat and opened the door.

The girls exited the van, and Luz took the three in. Willow had her usual trenchcoat on, hair cut short and combat boots, the sunflower mask a sharp difference from her outfit. Amity for some reason wore a bright pink outfit, skirt and all; which with the smiling lion mask gave a vibe of cheerleader at Halloween. Only the spiked bracelets and collar contributed to the danger of the AK she wielded. Luz had stuck with the classic, a striped shirt and green army jacket with a beanie. Of course, the winking otter mask sealed the deal.

With a quick nod, the three hurried up the stairs. Luz was the first to the door bodychecking it open and sprinting inside. Willow hurried in next and Amity strolled casually after, her assault rifle already leveling at the security guards.

Willow raised her pistol and let out a burst into the air, Civilians screamed and cowered away from them.

“HANDS UP AND GET DOWN NOW!” Amity threatened the under armed security guards with her ‘Blight’ voice. A tone which commanded respect.

Luz, running a fair distance ahead, raised her bat and slammed it into a lone guard on the other side as she passed. The man crumpled and Luz kicked open the door to the tellers.

“ALRIGHT HANDS UP! THIS IS A STICK UP!” She shouted as she threatened the tellers with her pistol. The tellers threw their hands away from the panic buttons and towards the ceiling.

“Oh my god, can you be more cliche?” Amity grumbled.

“No fighting,” Willow commanded as she hauled some well-dressed man up off the floor. “Ok, Mister Manager. Time to see the safe.”

“I-I don’t understand! We paid for this month, why are you here!?”

“Shut up and move!” Willow shoved him towards the back.

Luz meanwhile led all the tellers out of their room and had them lay with the rest of the hostages. Amity patrolled the room, her rifle just itching and a growl in her throat.

“Tellers secured,” Luz announced as the last person exited the room.

“Good work Luzura. How’s it going in the vault Venus?” Gus asked.

“This asshole won’t stop blabbing about the Fakes? Ever heard of them?”

“Sounds familiar, but I’m not too up on West Coast criminals.”

“The Owl Lady would know probably,” Luz said into her ear piece.

“Who cares? Let’s just get the money and get out,” Amity shook her head.

“Alright we’re good. Heading back upfront,” Willow gave the call after a few minutes. “How’s the street look Illusionist?”

“Looks good on my end. Wait…” Sounds of rapid typing filled their earpieces. “There’s someone else in the system. Fuck they’re good.”

“What? Who? Cops? Bank IT?” Willow sounded incredulous, as she tossed some bags to the others. Luz slung hers over her shoulder before turning towards the doors.

“Too good for them. Fuck, I don’t know what they want but you might not have too much time.”

“It’s fine we’re done here,” Luz shoved the door open with her shoulder.

“LUZURA GET DOWN!”

The van at the bottom of the steps exploded, knocking Luz on her ass in the open door. Looking around she saw a sports car parked a bit further down, the driver dropping an empty rpg tube into the backseat. He idly fixed his purple suit jacket (over an orange shirt? Who wears that?) and ran a finger along his white Stetson towards Luz with a smirk.

A lanky well-dressed blonde in gold sunglasses grinned next to the passenger seat, but it was when the trunk closed and two more people stepped around to the front that Luz moved.

She scrambled backwards, slamming the door closed and started shouting at everyone, “GET BACK! AWAY FROM THE DOOR! MOVE QUICK!”

She dove over the central desk as bullets started flying through the door, peppering it with holes. Outside the noise was unrelenting as the thick wooden doors were slowly turned to scraps. Luz thought she heard screams but couldn’t tell if it was civilians or her friends as she huddled behind her cover.

After what seemed an eternity, first one then another door fell off the hinges absolutely wrecked. The hail of gunfire stopped, though the ringing in Luz’s ears continued.

Gus’s voice was the first thing to pierce the ringing, “Guys!? What’s going on!? I lost visual feed!”

“I-I’m ok!” Willow sounded unsure for the first time since Luz met her. “Princess? Luzura? What was that?”

“That would be company toasting our ride!” Luz responded, using the lull to check her gun. “No way that was cops! What kind of bank did you bring me to!?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a mob bank. A well-armed one. Ah Fuck!” Amity grunted in pain.

“You going soft on us Princess?” Luz asked with no small amount of concern.

“In your dreams, Luzura,” Amity snarled.

Luz went to say something else but a high British voice called out, “Now that is how you make an entrance Boi!” Gripping her pistol and bat, Luz slowly looked over the counter seeing the four enter the door. The lanky well-dressed man with golden shades was gesturing around with a golden deagle and a grin.

Next to him, a man in a leather jacket scowled at the Brit, “Yeah, that’s why I did it, idiot!” The man’s minigun still smoked from pulverizing the door.

“Aww, Mogar. Let him have his fun,” A redhead woman laughed as she draped herself over sunglasses.

“Can you guys focus?” The color clashing cowboy cocked his AK, “Hey Fuckers! You and your friends are dead!”

“Whelp. We’re screwed,” Luz whispered into her earpiece.

“Giving up already Luzura?” Amity’s laugh turned to a hiss.

“That’s it! I’m heading over! Where the fuck’s my gun!?”

“Chill Illusionist! There’s only four, and if it’s their bank they won’t use that minigun inside. They’re all bluster,” Luz could almost hear the gears turning in Willow’s head.

“They already used it on the door and Princess is hurt, we’re still at a disadvantage,” Luz shot back, trying to keep sight on the four without being seen. The three had started moving further into the bank, while leather jacket (Mogar?) stood guard at the door.

“It’s just a scratch,” Amity hissed.

“Ok, an AK and two pistols. AK is heading left of the doors and pistols are going right,” Willow must have a better vantage than Luz. “Princess move towards the AK and try to get a drop on them. I’ll go the other way and try to draw the pistols away. Luzura stay down and wait for an opportunity.”

“Copy,” Amity responded.

“What about the mini?” Luz asked.

“It’s intimidation Luzura!” Amity snapped.

Luz only grumbled as she checked her pistol for the twentieth time. She could hear someone just on the other side of her cover.

“Come out, come out where ever you are…,” The redhead sang softly. Luz tensed with her pistol, watching the lip of the counter.

Suddenly, Willow’s automatic pistol barked to Luz’s right. “Ahh! Shite!” The Brit’s gun fired twice, “Phoenix, a little help!?”

The redhead groaned, “C’mon Golden Boy. You can’t take one pistol?” Luz saw her moving forward to take cover by the teller windows, not noticing the girl behind her.

“HEY FUCKER!” Amity’s AK barked on the other side of the bank, “ARE YOU COLORBLIND OR SOME SHIT!? I MEAN PURPLE AND ORANGE!?”

“SAYS THE GIRL WHO CAN’T DECIDED BETWEEN PUNK OR PREP!” More automatic fire rang out. “THOUGHT YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND!”

“Ok, OK! I’M IN! …and I’m out…” Gus called out, “Shit. This fucker is good.”

Willow’s pistol let out another burst, and Golden Boy’s gun shot back. The redhead leaned forward to peek over the teller window, and Luz lined up her pistol. As she was about to pull the trigger, Willow’s gun fired and bullets bounced off the bullet proof glass above Phoenix’s head.

The redhead ducked from the fire; her head turned to press against the counter. The girl’s eyes went wide as she met Luz’s stare.

“FUCK!” The redhead spun pulling her gun up. But Luz’s gun barked in panic unloading the gun into center mass.

Behind Luz a wail was heard, before the whirling sound of a minigun coming to speed was heard. Luz hated being right.

She shot up and ran to the left, as bullets started flying shredding her hiding spot. Running as fast as she could, hyper aware of the hot lead that seemed one step behind her.

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!”

Luz dove into an empty office just as the gunshots turned to clicking of an empty chamber. Mogar screamed again, and a large metal thud sounded as the empty minigun landed close to the office door.

“LUZ!?” Amity shouted in concern.

“Fuck that was close,” Luz kicked the wood door shut then scrambled behind the desk. Gunshots rang out outside the office, and Luz patted herself down looking for another mag. Finding one last mag she reloaded, “Bad news guys, I lost my mask. How are you?”

“Only you Luz…” Willow sighed.

“Dumbass,” Amity’s AK barked again.

“Love ya too,” Luz chanced a peek through the window. Mogar was kneeling by Phoenix, holding her hand. He leaned down and cupped her face for a moment before standing up and firing a bullet into her head. He turned snarling towards Luz.

“Shit!” Luz ducked back down, holding her bat and gun tightly. “These guys are fucking hardcore. He just executed his teammate!”

“Fuck!” Amity growled, “How are we going to get out of here Venus?”

…

“Venus?”

“Oh, sorry. Was that this lovely bird with the trenchcoat?” Golden boy’s accented voice came through the earpiece. “She can’t come to the phone right now. May I take a message?” He asked in good humor.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER!?” Gus roared over the coms.

“Nothing she didn’t try to do to me, I assure you mate. Besides, if you didn’t try to rob from the FAKES then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Gus continued to yell and rage but Luz was distracted by the gunfire shattering the windows in the office she was hiding at. Luz yelled in surprise covering her head from the glass.

“LUZ,” Amity screamed over the comms, her gun going off again. “JUST DIE YOU FUCKER!”

“Hey! Ottergirl!” Mogar yelled, “You killed my wife you Bitch!” He fired off a few more times with his pistol, “Come out coward!” His gun clicked empty.

“I’m no coward! Now eat this Sucker!” Luz shot up and unloaded her pistol at the man. He stood there calmly reloading as the shots flew by him, the entire time glaring at Luz. Luz slowly lowered her empty pistol, “So…Would you accept a heartfelt apology?”

Mogar growled, stuffing his pistol back into its holster. He cracked his knuckles and neck as he strode confidently into the office. Luz tossed the empty gun at him, then raised her bat.

Luz swung, keeping Mogar on the other side of the desk. He snarled at each swing, before grabbing a chair and chucking it at Luz. Luz yelped and swung her bat, smacking it away. This was the opening Mogar was waiting for, and he went low driving a fist into her stomach. Quick as a flash, his other fist connected with her face.

Luz’s head rung and she tried to get away, swinging her bat rather weakly in a vain attempt. Mogar easily blocked it and grabbed Luz, throwing her over the desk and back into the bank proper.

Luz rolled to a stop, using her bat to attempt to get up. She wiped some blood from her lip and glared at Mogar.

“HEY!” Amity yelled from the side. She stood there sans mask with a pistol under the cowboy’s neck, holding him hostage. “Let her go or this colorblind idiot gets it.”

“Again, it’s very insulting when you say that. I am not an idiot,” The man slowly reached up and took his hat off.

Mogar huffed and pulled his gun out.

“Hey! I mean it!” Amity shouted, forcing the gun into his neck even harder.

“I’ll see you back at base Rimmy Tim,” Mogar leveled his gun at the pair. Luz tried to stand but fell back to her knees.

“Just make sure you bring my hat this time. Don’t feel like another raid on the evidence locker this week,” Rimmy Tim smiled completely at ease as Mogar pulled the trigger.

Amity looked shocked as Rimmy Tim went limp, dropping his body and looking at the blood that smeared onto her hand. “What the fuck?” Several gunshots rang out and Amity dropped.

“NO!”

Luz drove her bat towards Mogar’s legs, knocking him onto his back. She jumped on top swinging. They devolved into an absolutely feral fistfight. Both giving as much as they got, as they rolled round trying to gain the upper hand.

Climbing on top once again, Luz slammed a fist into his face. In the daze she managed to get her hands around the man’s neck. Mogar snarled up at the girl, his hands trying to break her grip or punch her off. But in her rage, Luz was beyond caring of a few punches.

Pistol-whipping, however?

A shiny gold handle slammed into Luz’s head, knocking her off Mogar who gasped for breath. Luz’s vision swam for a second before clearing back up. Faintly she was aware of Gus yelling, seeing as her earpiece was knocked out of her ear.

“Now, now. None of that Love,” The Golden Boy’s voice casually said. “Too much killing already so I can’t have you offing my boi.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fuck you and your Boy!” Luz spat out some blood. “He killed my Girl!”

“You killed my wife…” Mogar choked out between coughs. The Golden Boy rolled his eyes.

“So dramatic. Sorry Love, all’s fair and all that,” The Golden Boy leveled his golden deagle at Luz’s face. “That’s just how the milk crumbles the biscuit sometimes.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Mogar snarled at the Golden Boy.

“Oi! Don’t be rude, Micoo!” Was the second to last thing Luz heard.

BLAM

 Luz shot up, looking around wildly before realizing she was in the bedroom of her new apartment. She winced at the horrible headache splitting her skull. Her sheets were covered in sweat and she panted from the scarily clear nightmare she had just awoken from. With a sigh of relief, she fell back onto her pillow to stare at the ceiling, cursing the throbbing headache that clearly influenced her dreams.

Unfortunately, her tentative plans to just go back to sleep to avoid dealing with said headache was cut short with a ringing phone. With a groan, she patted her pockets for her cell. Idly she realized she must have fell asleep without changing into her pajamas, as she pulled her work cell out and answered.

“What!?” Normally, she was more chipper but the headache felt as if it sucked all the life from her.

“Christ, Luz! Finally!” Amity snarled with a bit of relief. “Willow! I got Noceda!” Amity called into the background before asking the one question she never asked Luz, “Are you ok?”

“What? Yeah, just got a throbbing headache. And apparently, I slept in my body armor,” Luz’s free hand started unstrapping the Velcro on her armor. “That’d explain that freaky dream I had.”

“That we tried to rob Grand National Bank then were killed by a rival gang?”

Luz stopped, concern forcing its way into her thoughts, “How did you know that Amity…?”

“You should turn the news on Luz…”

Luz sat still for a second, before shooting off the bed. Scrambling into the next room, she grabbed the remote and flicked the tv on.

“-orning gang violence erupted down at Grand National Bank, as two rival criminal factions had a shootout in the front lobby. There are reports of numerous casualties as well as the criminals getting away with thousands of dollars. Eyewitness accounts claim several of the assailants fell during the shootout, but LSPD has refused to comment.”

The blood rushed to Luz’s ears and the news reporters’ words seemed to become distant as they showed pictures and grainy video of the shootout. There her and her friends reenacted the dreams events as they faced off against the FAKES. She slumped onto her couch and just watched.

Slowly she became aware of someone calling her name from far away. Looking down she realized that her cell was still connected.

She put it against her ear again, “What the FUCK happened!?”

[styleslot]

Champion

You found him sitting in the locker room, the sounds of the crowd outside dulled by the hefty door. He always took this time alone, a couple moments before each fight, to get out of his head and focus on the task at hand. Tonight was a big one, the championship that could either make or break his career. None of the fights in the past meant anything now. This was a win that he needed, and he wouldn’t stop until he had it.

“H?” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him and screw with his whole concentration routine.

His head lifted and his eyes searched until they found you standing at the end of the row of lockers. Your hands were tucked behind your back, waiting for a reaction from him. Sometimes he welcomed your presence before a fight, sometimes he just needed to be completely alone. His outstretched arm gesturing to you answered your question before you even had a chance to ask. With a timid grin, you walked alongside the benches and slid into the spot next to him, his arm resting over your waist. But he still wasn’t satisfied.

“Come up on my lap yeah?”

You didn’t have to think twice before lifting yourself into his lap, sitting sideways. Harry sat with a satisfied grin on his face, curling his arm around your waist and resting his wrapped hand on the top of your thigh.

“You’re feeling ready?” you asked, running a hand through his fluffy brown locks.

“As ready as I can yeah,” he let out a breath. “Are you here to give me that extra push of good luck?”

“I mean I could,” you giggled out softly, letting your arm go around his shoulders. “I’ve never been one to shy away from a kiss.”

He looked at you for a moment, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “Well I was thinking more than a kiss…”

For a moment you stared before it finally clicked in your brain what he meant. “H, I’m not giving you a blowjob.”

“Baby,” he pouted.

“Hey,” you raised both of your eyebrows up. “You know I’m not the quiet type.”

“So?”

“So… I also know you’re not a fan of silence.”

His teeth let go of his lip to allow it to jut out in a pout. You rolled your eyes slightly and shook your head.

“We’ll celebrate after… promise…”

“Even if I lose?” he questioned, holding up his pinky.

“Even if you lose. Which we already know won’t happen.”

Locking your pinkies together, he kissed over your knuckle and kissed over your cheek.

“Do I still get that good luck kiss though?”

“I suppose,” you played it off like nothing, but made the strong move of grabbing his cheeks with both of your hands and leaning down, pressing your lips together with his.

You could feel the slight bump left of a scar from a previous fight as you indulged him for a moment. There was a part of you that liked to think that your intimacy with him beforehand did indeed help with his performance, but you had to openly admit to yourself that your boyfriend was an amazing and talented fighter all on his own.

Standing up off of his lap, you checked the time on your phone. 6:50. 10 minutes before the whole thing started.

“I’m going to go out there, but you’re going to do absolutely amazing alright? Don’t get in your head, get in his.”

Harry looked up at you, rubbing over his knuckles that remained wrapped in tape. “Yes ma’am.”

***

Harry threw his fist one last time, clocking his already debilitated opponent right in the jaw. You watched as the man fell to the ground, his body done. You knew it. You knew Harry had just won.

The ref called it and walked over to Harry, hoisting his arm in the air. The crowd was deafening around you as you jumped to your feet, cheering for your boyfriend who stood drenched in sweat and looking hotter than ever. Harry’s head fell back in relief, a giant grin spreading across his face, revealing his neon pink mouth guard just before he pulled it out, blowing out a deep breath.

His chest heaved up and down, and his eyes finally popped open, scanning around the floor around the ring, knowing you would be around somewhere. His eyes finally locked with yours. You were grinning brightly, your hands clasped in front of your mouth. Harry had stopped paying attention to those around him, his body shaking with each rough pat on the back from the other men on his team.

He looked content and finally at peace as the large belt was wrapped around his waist. There were photographs being taken from every angle, but he was more focused on you. The second he could get away from it all, he was hopping out of the ring and pushing through, making a beeline to you. It was a short distance, but the cheering fans held him back. He was too distracted to stop at the moment, but he did anyways, messily signing over some of their merchandise before continuing on.

Harry reached you, his eyes locked onto yours as his bruised hands reached out and grabbed a hold onto your waist. His grip was tight as he pulled you against him, and in the moment, you didn’t care that he was covered in sweat and had blood leaked from a minor cut on his forehead. The kiss was rough and eager, telling you through the passionate action that this was only the beginning.

***

His hands roamed your torso in the car on the way back to the hotel. He was practically bouncing in the seat, the high of winning the fight and having all the positive attention on him feeding his lust towards you. You felt the pads of his thick fingers pressing against the insides of your thighs, teasing with a mix of gentle and hard touches. There was one point where you knew there would be small finger bruises left the next morning. Grabbing his hand off of your thigh, the car came to a halt outside of your hotel. He was quick to get out, practically pulling you out of the car like a horny teenage boy.

“H, slow down,” you laughed slightly, brushing your skirt off as you two walked up into the lobby.

At this point, he wasn’t stopping for anyone or anything. And neither were you. You were just as eager. The minute the elevator doors clicked shut, he backed you into the corner, his hands gripping at your hips firmly and his lips pressing against yours. If you hadn’t pushed him back when the doors opened on your floor, the poor girls who were coming on as an exchange for your getting off would have seen a less than welcoming sight.

His tongue was continuously licking over his lips as you tugged him down the hall to the suite at the end, fishing the card out of your purse and swiping it to unlock the room. Harry’s hands had found your hips again, pushing you in through the open door and quickly shutting and locking it behind the two of you.

“You don’t wanna shower first?” you asked, an innocent question that you already knew the answer to.

“Showered at the gym,” he responded rather fast, his fingers picking at themselves. He was trying to keep himself under control, but the animalistic look in his eye was giving too much away for you not to know what he was really thinking.

“So are you just gonna stand there or are you going to come over here and fuck me?” It was so… casually spoken that Harry had to take a moment to capture what you had said and process it.

In a sudden burst, he lunged to you and grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it off over your head in a single swift movement while walking your caught off guard stature back into the bedroom. You nearly fell over your own feet, the cool air of the room causing goosebumps to prick up over your stomach. Harry’s large fingers felt up your sides, standing over you as the backs of your legs hit the end of the bed. Before you could fall, one of his hands cupped over your lower back and held you up while his neck ducked his head down so his lips could connect to the hinge of your jaw. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, grabbing onto the outer sides of his upper arms. You didn’t really know what to do in the moment, all you really could do was let him have full control.

His hand that rested on your lower back, slowly moved up, finding the clasp of your bra. You could feel him fumbling around with it, a frustrated huff falling from his lips as he pulled back and peered over your shoulder to see what he was doing wrong.

“H, lemme do it,” you murmured, reaching your arms behind you to assist him.

The clasp came undone, and Harry grabbed the straps, pulling them down your arms. You quickly let the bra fall to the floor, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling it up over his head as well. One at a time, articles of clothing came off. Your hands roamed each other’s bodies, and it was quickly turning into less of a victory fuck and more of a celebratory love fest. Standing in front of each other, completely naked, Harry let out a deep breath. His eyes had grown softer, but more tired.

Your hand reached up to cup his cheek gently, his head turning into your hand as an automatic reaction. His eyes roamed your body, his fingers caressed your sides and he stepped closer to you.

“You look tired…” you whispered, pushing some hair away from his face.

Harry shook his head quickly, one of his hands coming up slowly to cup your breast, the pad of his thumb brushing over your nipple a couple of times before it was erect. Biting your lip, you grabbed his wrist softly and began to lower his hand down your stomach and to your aching sex. Harry was quick to glance down and back to your eyes, taking his own action and cupping his hand over the mound. He pushed you back onto the bed, his hand retracting for just a moment as he moved to crawl on the bed beside you.

As he laid on his side, he brought your leg closest to him up over his hip, his arm wrapping over it once again when his fingers found the dripping organ between your legs. A breath got caught in your throat when he pulled back the little hood and started to circle your clit with the pad of his finger.

Harry moved his head down and began to suck the top of your breast, his lips finding the perfect spot to suck a mark into. Your breathing was starting to get heavier the longer he rubbed the sensitive set of nerves, your legs opening wider for him. A whimper came from your lips when his finger slipped off of you clit and pressed into your awaiting sex, curling up slightly as it plunged in.

“So wet for me…” he whispered out quietly against your skin, pulling his finger out before pushing two back into you, a little jolt making your hips jerk up towards his hand. “All for me... ri’?”

“A-all for you…” you murmured out quietly. “Want you to love me more…”

“Tell me what you want…” he murmured out, using his free hand to grab your chin and force you to look at me. “Use your words…”

“Want you to fuck me,” you spoke surely.

His fingers were quick to retract from your heat and go to reach for the small packet that sat ready on his table at the side of the bed, he tore the little packet open with his teeth and pulled the rubber out, falling onto his hand for a moment to roll it over his cock. He was just about to roll back on top of you when you pushed him back and threw a leg over his lap, straddling his upper thighs. He wasn’t quite as hard as he could be, so you grabbed the base of his length and started to massage the shaft until it was hard as it could be.

“Much better,” you giggled out softly, lifting yourself over him and holding it up to line up with your opening.

You teased the both of you by running his tip along your slit, self-lubricating him in the process. The thrill of watching him win and having the control over him was making you drip down your thighs. His stomach rose and fell with each deep breath he took. You took a moment just to admire him before sinking onto his cock, closing your eyes for a moment, letting your muscles adjust. He wasn’t huge, but he wasn’t lacking. In any sense of the word.

“Fuck…” he murmured out quietly, grabbing a hold onto your hips. “Thought you wanted me to fuck ya… not the other way…” a small smirk toyed at the corner of his lips.

“Mmm…” you hummed out, swivelling your hips around slowly. “You are…”

You began to rock your hips back and forth, the backs of your thighs pressing against his hips. Your head fell back against your shoulder as your hands cradled your breasts, tweaking your nipples to enhance your whole experience. Your moans were low and guttural while Harry’s were more breathy.       The bed squeaked slightly with your movements on top of him as your pace began to quicken, your hips beginning to lift up with each forward thrust and with each roll back, he filled you right back up.

“Oh my god H…” you whimpered out, your hands pressing into his stomach.

Harry was quick to flip you over, only leaving the warmth of your sex for a brief second as he pushed your legs up and rested them onto his shoulders, thrusting into you quickly. You cried out at the intense change, grabbing onto his wrists as he held your hips in place, dominating the whole situation in a matter of seconds. You pressed your head into the pillow and whined out desperately, feeling him stretch your walls the most they ever had been.

His grunts drove your drive up even further, the roughness of his actions giving you more to look forward to. You felt him slip out a couple times, quickly adjusting himself back into your warm, wet mound. Your brow furrowed with pleasure and your breasts bounced with each quick thrust, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing through the room.

“Oh fuck…” he hissed out, his fingers pressing marks into your hips and your sides as he desperately held onto you.

Your stomach began to clench, your muscles contracting as the orgasm began to creep up. So when Harry reached a hand down and pinched your clit between his fingers, you mewled out and arched your back up off of the bed, pressing your lower half into his as much as you possibly could.

A pleasure filled cry filled Harry’s ears as you orgasmed around him, Harry finally giving into his own urges, bucking his hips and bruising your bum with the force driven behind his movements that came with his orgasm.

Your mouth hung open, having no control over what your body did as the high took its time running through you. Your muscles were tight and tensed up, causing your body to tremble, even as you slowly began to come down. Harry was panting over you, lowering your legs off of his shoulders. You didn’t have the energy, so you let them fall open, turning your head into the pillow and biting your knuckle, trying to catch your breath.

Slowly, he slipped out of you and blew out a deep breath, falling onto the bed beside you. His hand rested on his stomach and he closed his eyes, exhausted from the fight and from the victory sex. He was beyond a happy man at this point. Nothing could be better.

You rolled over towards him resting your cheek against his shoulder. His arm went around you tightly, his head turning so he could kiss the top of your head firmly. This was his peak, and what a great way to celebrate.

[sam-lives-story]

#SamLives - Chapter 12

“...With Some Unexpected Additions”

[Previous|Next]

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

Jack gasped sharply and gritted his teeth, snarling and tugging against the green strings, fighting for his freedom. He had to get out. He had to save Sam, had to help Mark. But there was something...odd about the strings. With each tug against his restraints, Jack felt a little more of the fight leaving him, his will to rebel slowly draining away. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his shoulder was throbbing with pain...so...so wouldn’t it…

...wouldn’t it be easier to just give in?

The Nerf gun fell from his hands, tumbling to the floor with a clatter of plastic and a muffled thump against the carpet.

“ No͊w be̺ a̦ go͟õd̏ li᷅t̏t᷁l͋e᷊ pup̝p͟ét, an̂d̯ ğo᷊ t̥õ s͕le̗e̥ṗ. ”Yeah...yeah, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Jack slowly let his eyes drifted shut.

Click .

“You let ‘im go right this fucking second, or I blow your fuckin’ brains out, bro.”

Shing .

“I told you scalpels vere good for more zen just surgery!”

“Oh, shut up! Take care of Jack while I deal with the Glitch Bitch.”

“h᷊O̓w̶ d̍A͇r᷈E̖ y̶OͅU͎?!?”

“Don’t even think about moving, man. Try me.”

Whatever hold Anti’s puppet strings had had over him was beginning to dissipate, the cords themselves no longer as tight and restraining as they once were. He could feel them falling away from his body, as though they were no longer attached to the person that had wielded them before. Jack staggered, groaning, and he felt a pair of hands lightly grip his arms to stop him from falling over.

“Easy Jack, easy,” a voice cropped up from right in front of him, a foreign accent adding an odd flavor to the words. “Slow down. Zose strings can really affect ze mind, even if used for mere moments. Take it from me. I vent through it once und it vasn’t a fun time…”

Jack dragged his eyes open, fighting back toward some semblance of control - and his eyes widened almost comically, a startled noise escaping him.

He was staring at himself. Or, more accurately, a version of himself. The glasses, the smirk, the concerned eyes, the familiar white coat.

“Sch-Schneep?!” Jack stammered. He felt as though he might just topple over from the shock of everything after all.

Jack’s eyes flicked upward, past the Good Doctor’s shoulder, to seek out Anti - and what he saw drew a sharp gasp past his lips.

Chase Brody, the trickshot master himself, was going head-to-head against the glitch demon, Nerf gun drawn and determination in his gaze. Anti was glaring at him with all the rage of hell burning in his eyes, and as Jack watched, he drew back his knife with the intent of landing a quick, painful attack on his taunter. Chase just shrugged and sighed.

“I warned you not to move, dude.”

Chase pulled the trigger, his gun still aimed at Anti’s head.

But it wasn’t a normal foam disc that left the gun’s chamber. It looked the same, at a glance, but there was something more to it - because instead of bouncing harmlessly off of Anti’s chest like Jack’s had, the disc collided with Anti’s skull and sent his image scattering into thousands of glitching pixels in a burst of bright, Nerf-green light. Anti staggered back, his image reforming, and when he did a deep, fury-laced scowl had set in across his features.

Oh, Chase had pissed off the wrong demon.

Anti snarled and dashed forward with his knife at the ready, but Chase had been expecting it. He dove right, rolling with practiced ease over the coffee table and landing in a crouch on the other side. He aimed again - had he even reloaded? When had he reloaded? Did he even need to? - and shot twice, hitting Anti’s shoulder and leg in turn. Both collision points exploded into static-filled distortions like Anti’s head had before, reforming just as quickly and with just as little effect as the first shot.

But it was still slowing him down. It was holding him back. It was hurting him, in a way, and Jack’s jaw dropped.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Jack!” Henrik snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s face, drawing his attention. “Vhere is Sam?”

“Sam–?” Jack mouthed the name, his thoughts still horribly fuzzy from whatever the hell Anti’s strings had done to him. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of cobwebs. Sam...Sam?

Sam!

“A box!” Jack’s eyes snapped open and he pointed across the room, both his and Henrik’s gazes following his finger. “Jewelry box. Anti locked him inside.”

“Scheisse!” Henrik swore under his breath and ran across the room toward the box, his coat fanning out behind him while he left Jack to clutch at the nearby bookshelf for support. His legs felt shaky, his head still buzzing. Fucking hell…

The room around him was nothing but chaos, too much noise and movement for him to fully comprehend all of it. He caught bits and pieces, his eyes darting between Chase and Anti’s rapidly-moving forms, and Henrik who was crouched before the chair in the corner.

Chase did some sort of parkour move off the couch, one foot planting firmly on the cushions and the other pushing off of the wall behind it. He spun in the air, diving over Anti’s swiping knife and barely avoiding getting slashed in the side.

Almost.

Chase hissed and tumbled across the living room floor in a sloppy version of what looked like a practiced roll, teeth gritted in pain and his free hand clutching at his thigh.

“Shit! Fuck!” Chase hissed, pounding once against the floor with the fist still clutching his Nerf gun. He shot a glare at Anti from beneath the brim of his hat, snarling in response to Anti’s shit-eating grin and his glitching giggle. It seemed to spur him into action again, scrambling to his knees and bringing his red-stained hand up to grip his weapon more steadily, aiming again. “Fuckin’ bastard!”

Chase fired, the green shot piercing through Anti’s shoulder and drawing a distorted cry of pain from the demon. Chase smirked.

”Hah!” he taunted, standing up onto slightly unsteady feet and taking a staggered step backwards. “That’ll teach ya not to mess with Chase Brody!”

Anti snarled, clutching at his shoulder as its broken pixels reformed, this time a little slower than before.

"I w̉ou̚ḷḍn̄'̣t̮ b̎e̞ so̠ co᷈cky̓, i̴f̌ I we͛r̵e ỵo͗u͖, de̬a᷊dbeåt̘.”

Even from across the room, Jack could see Chase stiffen at the word. His confidence seemed to wane, the hold on his gun going a little slack, and there was a tightness behind his eyes that Jack recognized. Deadbeat dad. The exact thing Chase never wanted to be, and the one thing - whether it was true or not - that he regretted most.

Was that all it would take for Anti to get to him? One, two words?

Jack watched the man with bated breath. He could see the way Chase’s jaw tensed, the way his nostrils flared and his grip tightened, the way his eyes narrowed...and the way he planted his feet, training his gun back on Anti even as the demon glitched closer and closer, darting forward across the room. No, he wouldn’t be shaken so easily. Chase took two shots straight through the Demon’s chest...but this time Anti was expecting it. Anti was ready. He flickered out of existence just long enough to miss Chase’s discs, grinning wickedly, teeth sharp - but a third unexpected shot hit its mark.

When Chase had pulled the trigger this time, he hadn’t stopped at one or two discs. No. Again and again, unending, his aim shifting with each pull, he rained neon green ammunition down on the ever-approaching monster that seemed hell bent on taking him out for good. Shoulder, leg, chest, head, arm, shoulder–

Anti was hard to see clearly at this point, his image a flurry of exploding and reforming distortions of pixels in the air. He was speaking, shouting, something that Jack couldn’t quite make out through the fuzziness in his head and the level of distortion Anti’s voice had reached.

“Who’s cocky now, huh?!” Chase snapped. This wasn’t the same teasing banter he’d been using before, his tone more serious. “Eat Nerf, glitch bitch!” Anti was only steps away now, so at the very last second Chase dove to the right and landed in a crouch near Jack’s feet. He shot a grin up at Jack - holy shit, it was like looking in a fucking mirror - before glancing past him toward Henrik.

“How’s that box comin’, Doc?”

“Nearly zhere,” Henrik shot back over his shoulder. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and smirked. “Anti’s no idiot. Vhatever zis lock is, it vas made to be impossible to pick.”

“Plan B?” Chase asked, refocusing on Anti, who was finally regaining some semblance of solidity. “Or should we just skip all the way to Plan F-This and get the hell out of here?”

Jack had to admit that Anti looked a little worse for wear. He didn’t look any less angry than before, but a light sheen of sweat could be seen at his hairline, and the scar at his neck had begun to bleed. The battle was beginning to take its toll. Even so, Jack couldn’t help but gulp and press himself flush against the bookshelf he’d been using for support, as though he might be able to phase through it and hide between the books and photos and video game memorabilia that was kept there. Chase seemed to notice his distress and stood, planting himself firmly between Jack and Anti with his Nerf gun as their shield.

“Vhat do you take me for, a moron?” Henrik joked, chuckling. “Of course I have a Plan B! Zhere is alvays a loophole to exploit, I know zat better zen anyvone.”

“Well are you gonna tell me the loophole, or would you rather leave me hanging while I’m facing down a murderous computer virus?”

“Oh, quit your vhining,” Henrik muttered. He turned back to the jewelry box, from which Jack could hear quiet squeaks and movement from Sam. Sam was okay. He was just...trapped. “I’m removing ze hinges instead. Just keep him distracted until I can–”

“G̈҉e̦͍᷁Ť o̭Ȗt̙ o̵̹̦F͔ m̵͕Y ͘͜wA̷̵y᷀!”

Anti had finally managed to reform fully, appearing rather suddenly right in front of Chase. Wide-eyed, gasping sharply, Chase brought his gun up to fire again – but Anti was faster. He grabbed Chase’s wrist and yanked harshly to the side, twisting Chase’s arm roughly and drawing a pained shout from the man.

“E̶no̻u͙gh̫ wi̅t̆h͗ y͜òu̸r pLa̰S̶t̙I̼c͐ t͠Oy̦S͑. Fi᷀r᷊s͖t M̤a̅r̠k̻ip̮l͊ie᷁r̝, th͛ên͖ J̼a̓c̲k͂...a᷊n᷇d́ nͅö́w̔ ẙo͉u . I’m᷇ s͍I̯c̅K oF̈́ i͛T!”

A flurry of confusion crossed Jack’s mind. Mark…? Mark had never used a Nerf gun around Anti. Hell, he hadn’t even met Anti. Had he? But...his musings could wait. Anti wasn’t playing games, not anymore. The Nerf gun clattered the ground, and as Chase grit his teeth, Anti’s mouth twisted into a sick smile.

He had the upper hand now, and he wasn’t about to let it go.

Anti’s grip tightened and he wrenched Chase away from his protective position in front of Jack, sending Chase tumbling across the ground and out of his way. The space between Jack and Anti seemed to vanish in an instant and Jack’s vision was filled with the sharp, angry grin of a dark-eyed demon. A hand - a tight, painful, semi-solid hand - closed around Jack’s throat, and he could have sworn he felt his heart stop as fear flooded his system.

Not again. Not again. Please, not again…

White spots danced in the corner of his vision, blurring the edges of Anti’s face, due in part to fear alone. He knew what Anti was doing, now. Anti didn’t want him dead. He wanted him under his control. He wanted to take over. And if he lost consciousness, if he wasn’t awake to fight against that control, it would be so easy, too easy, for Anti to...to...what? What was the end goal here?

Jack couldn’t even think straight anymore, his thoughts a fuzzy mess of static. He brought a hand up to grip feebly at Anti’s wrist, the other reaching out to push at the glitch’s chest, his actions weak and sluggish. Distant words floated through his mind, so near yet so far away. He couldn’t focus enough to figure out who was saying them, or how real they were.

“Doc, c’mon! Hurry up! He’s not letting me get close enough to–”

“I know, I know! I’m almost zhere, just one more–”

“No, I ẖa͗v̶e m̪ůch... ͛mùch᷆ b᷆i͈g͗g᷄er p̓lan̶s᷉ foͥr᷆ yõu��, Jaͅc̻k…”

Not enough air, can’t breath, it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts–

‘Anti you gotta stop! Please!’

Sam’s voice rang through the room, and a blur of green crossed in front of Jack’s vision. The grip around his throat went slack, not leaving completely but giving him enough room to fucking breathe. He gulped down air like it was the sweetest thing he had tasted, and when he refocussed on the scene before him, he saw Sam sitting on Anti’s shoulder. His little eye was full of emotion, pleading quietly with all the adorable sadness of a kicked puppy. And Anti–

..Jack almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. If he didn’t know any better, he might just go so far as to say there was a softness in the way Anti was looking down at the little eyeball, an odd sort of affection and guilt that couldn’t possibly be real. There was no way.

‘Please don’t do this,’ Sam was saying quietly, a shaking unsteadiness to his word. ‘Don’t hurt Jack. I love him very much and I need him, and he...I don’t like seeing him get hurt. It makes me sad, and I...I don’t wanna lose my D...family. He’s my family. So...so please? Let him go?’

Click .

“Just listen to the kid, man.” Chase had recovered his Nerf gun and was standing in the middle of the room, his aim trained on the back of Anti’s head. “Don’t make him cry.”

“You’re outnumbered.” Henrik this time, standing just off Chase’s shoulder with his scalpel in hand, tightening the blade where it sat in the handle, stern eyes peering over his glasses at the pair. “Zhere are four of us, und only one of you. Zat could change, ze longer you’re here. You’re already vorn out, I can see it...and who knows who else might show up next…?”

Jack could see a vein in Anti’s neck pulsing, his jaw tight and eyes narrowed. For a moment, Jack thought the demon might turn them down, might defy them all and go on with his plan anyway. But then Anti’s eyes fell on Sam again...and something in his expression changed. He snarled and shoved away from the bookshelf, leaving Jack to slouch against it in utter-fucking-relief before glitching away in a flurry of static, electric sparks, and distorted pixels. Sam was left tumbling down from where Anti’s shoulder had been, barely catching himself in the air before hitting the carpet.

“T᷊hi̘s̴ i᷁sn't̠ t̔h͏e l͟a͚s̏t͗ y͚oͅủ'l̙l᷁ s͎e̐e̹ őf̆ m͚e̦.”

With those final words the tension in the room dissipated rather suddenly, and Jack slid down to the floor to sit back against the bookcase and catch his breath. His throat was on fire and he coughed, wincing, trying to swallow in an attempt to sooth the renewed soreness. It didn’t really help.

‘Jack!’

Before Jack knew what was happening, he was bombarded by a tiny green projectile, Sam nuzzling up against his cheek and ‘cuddling’ every part of Jack’s face that he could reach.

“I’m–” Oh, god his throat hurt. Jack winced again and brought up a hand to catch the overactive eyeball, tugging him gently by the tail until he was floating where Jack could see him. He smiled weakly, and this time he let his thoughts speak for him.

‘I’m okay, Sam.’ He smiled softly. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks to you. You saved me, buddy. You’re so, so brave…’

Sam giggled quietly at the compliment, his frantic movements slowing for the moment. Jack could still feel the worry that Sam was feeling, a tiny beacon of distress in the back of his mind...but it wasn’t quite so strong as it had been before. He let Sam go and the little eyeball immediately snuggled up against Jack’s chest where he could feel his guardian’s heartbeat, strong as ever if not a little rapid.

“Not to interrupt zis wunderbar little moment,” Henrik spoke up. “But I believe zhere is somebody else ve should be helping?”

‘Oh, yeah! Where’s Mark and Tim?’

It was as if an electric shock had jolted him as the realization struck.

“Dark!” Jack’s words came out pained, hoarse, wheezy, his voice not all there. He winced and gritted his teeth, struggling to his feet and fighting past the flames in his throat. “Dark... ngh ...h-he’s outside. Mark went...car. The car.”

Chase and Henrik exchanged a look, and Chase nodded.

“I’m on it.”

He was out the door before Jack had even found his footing. Jack made to follow him, more than just a little worried about his best friend, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him where he stood.

“Nein, you’re not going anyvhere,” Henrik scolded, shaking his head. He guided Jack over to the couch, ignoring his protesting gestures and looks, and forced him down onto it. “You’re injured, und I’m not about to let you go running off into anozher fight so quickly. God, you’re just like Jackie…”

Jack opened his mouth to protest, remembered his throat, and thought better of it in favor of flipping off Henrik with all the impudence of a bratty teenager. The good doctor huffed and sat on the coffee table across from Jack, shaking his head.

“Chase can handle himself, Jack. I trust him vith zis. Ja?” He pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned forward toward his patient. “Now...vhere vere you injured…?”

Mark’s head was pounding, his eyes screwed shut and his nails clutching at his scalp so tightly he couldn’t tell if he had broken the skin or not. Images rushed past in his mind’s eye, rapid and flashing and horrifying all at once.

It would be enough to drive anyone mad.

“Have you given up yet?”

Dark’s voice echoed against the inside of his skull, drawing a pained whimper from Mark, who had yet to change positions from when he had curled up in a ball on his knees at the start of it all. It’s not real , he kept reminding himself, even as he saw Amy’s pained, pleading eyes staring back at him from his own imagination. It’s not real, and it will never happen.

It was the only thing holding him together at this point, that and the thought that somewhere inside the apartment, Jack was counting on him, counting on his help. He needed to fight this, fight back.

Think of something happy.

The little idea that popped into his head sounded remarkably like Tim, which wasn’t too much of a surprise really. Tim was a voice of wonderful positivity in his life, a small beacon of cheerfulness that he could always depend on to brighten his day. So to say that his internal positivity was voiced by the little box? It made complete sense.

Think of something happy .

Himself and Amy, going out for ice cream. Ethan and Tyler, the three of them, laughing through their lines in a short film. A take for the blooper reel, clearly. Kathryn’s teasing remarks. Chica, giving him happy puppy kisses. Himself and Jack, laughing over Spaceballs and Sea of Thieves, acting like idiots and loving every second of it.

Kissing Amy goodnight.

It was helping. It wasn’t lightening the pressure by a lot, but holy shit was it helping. Mark felt some semblance of clarity begin to return to his mind, regaining a sense of awareness that had been lost to him in the sudden onslaught of Dark’s mental attack.

Mark lifted his head slightly, trying to locate Tim somewhere against the concrete backdrop the driveway provided. Instead, dark polished shoes came into his view, the ground crunching ever-so-slightly beneath their soles, and Mark stiffened. He saw the man - no, he wasn’t a man, he was a demon - crouch before him, watching him. Watching. Observing.

“Trying to fight back, are you?” That voice again, smooth and deep and haunting and charming all at once. Echoing. Looping. Belittling. “I’m surprised...and here I thought a spineless, self-serving, self-worshiping monster like you, wouldn’t have enough humanity left in him to find any light in such a dark–”

“Sir?”

Another pair of shoes had appeared near Dark, just beyond him, these ones dark grey sneakers. They were neat, crisp, unworn in any way...and Mark had a sinking feeling he knew who this new arrival might be.

“What is it, Google? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Mark hated being right sometimes.

“Antisepticeye has vacated the premises.”

Mark froze.

“He would like to inform you that issues arose and things did not go according to plan. There were...as he said, “more players on the board” that he had not anticipated. Anti would like to discuss this matter in more detail, but for tonight, he is no longer in need of our assistance.”

A long pause followed the android’s words, and Mark felt both relief and heart-stopping anticipation in that moment. Anti was gone. Jack was okay, probably. But...what did that mean for him? Would Dark leave, just like that? Or–?

“Pity.” The word stopped Mark’s careening train of thought in an instant. “And here I was hoping I’d be able to break our friend Mark here before the night was out. Ah, well...perhaps another time .”

The pressure in his mind vanished in an instant, leaving Mark to gasp sharply and run his hands through his hair with closed eyes. The relief was absolutely monumental. The vice that had been keeping him in constant pain was gone, and all that remained was a throbbing headache that Mark was sure he could alleviate with some Advil. He sat up, slowly, his gaze dragging upward until both Darkiplier and Google were fully in his sights.

It was like going to a wax museum, where all the wax figures were supposed to be you. They all looked pretty damn close, but there was something... off about them, because the weren’t exact copies.

Plus the fact that one of those wax figures was actually an android, and the other made it look like you were staring through red-n-blue 3D glasses, and neither of the wax figures was actually made of wax…

...yeah, okay, maybe Dark had screwed up his head more than he’d first assumed.

“Is it wise to simply leave him behind as he is?”

“What damage could he possibly do?” Dark quirked an eyebrow at the android. “He knew I existed beforehand; it wouldn’t take a genius to assume others have surfaced as well. This changes nothing . Besides...it isn’t as if we can’t find him again after this evening.”

Dark eyes that held a sinister promise locked on Mark’s, and a shiver went down the man’s spine.

“We have eyes everywhere. He can’t hide, not from us.”

Pounding, running footsteps interrupted what Mark was sure would have been a rather chilling closure. (As if Dark’s last statement hadn’t been chilling enough already.) All three heads whipped around to see Jack bolting for the driveway, the Nerf gun Mark had been playing with all week held tight in his grip. With a cocky grin and more determination than Mark thought was fitting for such an action, Jack aimed his weapon at Dark and cocked his head to the side.

“Game over, Edgelord,” he taunted. Something about the way he was acting, the way he was talking , made Mark do a double-take. “Your homeboy Anti just ran off with his tail between his legs. I think it’s high time you did the same.”

Mark squinted at his friend. When the hell had Jack had time to change his clothes…?

“Should I neutralize him, sir?” Google’s eyes had taken on a red hue, the logo on his shirt glowing brighter than before, but Dark held up a hand to stop his colleague.

“That won’t be necessary, Google.” Dark folded his hands behind his back, smirking at Jack and casting a humorous glance toward the toy he was wielding. “As it is, my friend and I were already on our way out. No need for any further casualties. Not this time.”

Jack nodded to Google, not yet lowering his gun.

“Your Brobot seems to think otherwise.”

“Don’t mind him. It’s just in his programming.” Dark cast a sideways look of contempt toward Mark, still kneeling on the ground, and his lip curled in disgust. “Until next time, old friend. ”

Then both Dark and Google vanished into wisps of black and grey smoke, leaving no trace behind, no hint that they had ever been there at all.

“Oh thank fuck ...”

Mark groaned and dragged both hands over his face, rubbing the worry lines away and trying to massage his headache into non-existence. He heard footsteps approaching him, but they didn’t quite reach him. Instead he heard Jack veer a little to the left and stop there, an odd sound of plastic-on-plastic reaching his ears. When he let his hands fall into his lap and opened his eyes he realized what it was.

Jack had clipped the Nerf gun into a holster attached along the back of his belt - as though that was were it had always belonged, but where the hell had it even come from? - and he was crouched on the driveway reaching for something that was just out of sight around the front end of the car.

“Oh, buddy...what did he do to you?”

Mark frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. Who…?

Tim .

Mark stumbled to his feet to get closer, peering over Jack’s shoulder, and sure enough the tiny box was unconscious in his friend’s hands. He didn’t look hurt, just...asleep. Knocked out. Mark reached over Jack to take Tim from him, his hands as gentle as ever as he cradled his little biscuit against his chest protectively.

“Dark...he said he wasn’t here to hurt Tim,” Mark muttered, glancing up at Jack. “I don’t think - I think he’s just asleep.”

“I hope so,” Jack nodded, tugging at the brim of his hat and giving Tim another thoughtful glance before standing and turning his gaze back to Mark. “You good though, bro? Mister My Chemical Romance didn’t hurt ya too badly?”

“Not really, no,” Mark shrugged. He started to shake his head too, but the action made his head pound and he immediately decided never to do that again. Instead he stared at Jack, bewilderment flooding his features. “Wait, me? What about you?! Last time Anti was here he nearly killed you, Jack! How did you even–”

The thought was cut off by a rather unexpected laugh from Jack. The Irishman’s expression was bright, humorous, and the laughter that left him was loud and genuine, but the fact that he was laughing at all left Mark staring at him in baffled silence.

“Bro - dude. Oh my god, no.” Jack shook his head, eyes sparkling, and he chuckled as he went on: “Mark, I’m not Jack.”

Um. What?

“You’re not–”

“I’m Chase,” Not-Jack grinned. “Chase Brody.”

Mark blinked, and several things lined up in his head in that moment.

Change of clothes. Nerf gun. Nerf holster . ‘Brobot’ and ‘Edgelord’ and ‘Your homeboy Anti’ and–

“Oh my god, you’re the trick shot guy.”

“Yeah!” Chase’s grin widened and he shot Mark a pair of finger guns. “Exactly! Bro Average, trick shot master! Nice to meet ya, man!”

Mark’s expression was hovering somewhere between amusement and stupefaction.

“Of...course you are. And, uh...how...how many…?”

“How many Egos are there right now?” Chase snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just three, for Jack. I dunno how many Evil Twins you’ve got lurkin’ around, but it’s just me and Henrik and the ol’ Glitch Bitch on Jack’s end. Hen’s taking care of Jack inside right now.”

“Henrik…?”

“Doctor Schneep.”

“Right, okay. The...the German guy.”

“Heh, sure, yeah.” Chase snorted and glanced back toward the apartment, then around at the windows of the other residence in the area. “...actually, we might wanna head in before anyone starts askin’ more questions than they already will be, yeah?”

“Uh…” Mark blinked and shook himself mentally, still struggling to wrap his head around just how similar Chase and Jack looked . He supposed seeing Google, Dark, and himself in the same place probably looked equally surreal. “Yeah. Good point.”

“Jack, sit still! Leichtsinnig… ” Henrik muttered the word beneath his breath, then glared half-heartedly at Jack over his glasses. “Reckless boy.”

“Hey–!” Jack’s protest came out wheezy and he winced, scowling in annoyed silence instead.

Jack’s sweatshirt had been carefully wrestled off of him not too long ago, and the German doctor was already examining the rather impressive bruises marking Jack’s shoulder. The collision with the television cabinet hadn’t broken the skin, but the area was already turning a deep red color and it hurt to the touch. Jack bit back a whimper as Henrik carefully felt around the area with prodding fingers. He shot the medic a wary look.

“Are you sure y-you actually...know what you’re doing?” he asked, whispering instead. “You don’t have a real medical license…”

“Hush!” Henrik scowled at the YouTuber, his eyes narrowing. “I may not have one, but I vent to medical school same as anyvone else in my field! Ze only reason I don’t have a license is because I–”

The door opened then, drawing the attention of both men and Sam, who had been snuggled up in Jack’s lap. Sam let out a quiet squeak and went airborne, darting across the apartment to snuggle against Mark’s cheek happily.

“Seán?”

“Mark!”

The name hurt to say, the word coming out hoarse and quiet and pained, but Jack’s joy and relief was there nonetheless. He swatted away Henrik’s protests and shoved off the couch, drawing his best friend into a tight hug.

“Fuck, man…” he whispered the words against Mark’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut.

Jack ignored the pain in his shoulder, just letting himself revel in the fact that they were both alive, they were both safe, and they had both made it through whatever the hell had happened tonight. Mark was hugging his friend back just as tightly….but with only one arm.

“Do I even wanna know what the hell Anti did up here while I was gone?”

“...probably not,” Jack admitted quietly. “An’ you’d probably say the same ‘bout whatever Dark did to you outside.”

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through Mark’s chest and Jack finally stepped back, a weak smile playing across his lips.

“Well...you’re not wrong, I would say that,” Mark shrugged, and Jack saw him bring his hands against his chest, holding something there. “But...uh. We kind of need to keep each other in the loop, don’t we? So we can–”

Mark’s gaze trailed downward and he broke off, his eyes widening and his jaw tensing.

“...is that...new?” he asked.

Jack knew what Mark was referring to without even having to ask.

The bruises on his throat, he was sure, looked worse than ever, the old ones from before still a sickly green-yellow while the fresh ones from this evening were a brilliant red. Plus he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so the massive pattern of bruises on his shoulder was fully visible too.

Unable to give him a proper verbal response, Jack just nodded with a grimace. A vein pulsed in Mark’s neck and he seemed to have to force himself to look away.

“VHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU VERE BLEEDING?!”

“Oh my god, Hen, fucking chill, dude. It’s not that bad–”

“JACK VHERE IS ZE FIRST AID KIT??!?!”

“Henrik, for fuck’s sake!”

Jack shot a look to Chase, who was now actively trying to avoid Henrik’s healing warpath while a red stain of blood slowly soaked the thigh of his jeans. Oh...Jack’s mouth fell into a small circle and his eyebrows rose...that was where Anti had caught Chase with his knife earlier, wasn’t it? In the heat of the moment, the chaos of everything, Jack had almost forgotten that it had happened at all.

‘Mister M-Mark? What happened to Tim…?’

Then Sam’s voice chimed in, quiet and worried. Jack saw Mark wince and look down into his hands, where Jack now realized an unconscious Tim was curled safe again Mark’s chest.

“He’s...he’ll be alright, Sam. He’s just...asleep…”

“Vhere is ze sewing kit–?!”

‘You sure he’s gonna be okay?’

“Stop! I’m fucking fine! Dammit, Henrik, you’re not my fucking wife– !”

Everything sounded too loud, the entire room an endless cacophony of noise, and Jack just wanted it to stop. He wanted quiet. His head was still pounding, still spinning, from everything that had happened since Robin had called, and all he wanted was to sit down, talk it over, drink some tea, and go the fuck to sleep. But he could only do that if everyone would just–

“SHUT UP!”

Jack fell into a coughing fit, his throat screaming at him for raising his voice to such a level after the beating his neck had taken...but it did the trick. The room had quieted, all eyes snapping to him, the expressions he received on the other end rather mixed. Mark looked concerned, Chase was still vaguely pissed, and Henrik had a frantic look in his eyes as though he might explode at any second. Sam let out a little startled squeak and tumbled out of the air, Mark catching him with one hand before the little eyeball even had time to right himself.

“God...okay…” Jack took a deep breath to regain some air and nodded, his voice back down to a whisper. “Okay. So. Mark, you’re good. Sit down an’ take care of the kids.” Mark stifled a chuckled at the comment, and the smallest of smirks twitched at the corner of Chase’s mouth. “Chase, sit the hell down. Let Schneep look at ya. I’ll get the first aid kit - yes, and the sewing kit , I know, Doctor - then I’m makin’ myself some tea, we’re sitting the hell down, and we’re gonna talk about what the fuck just happened.” He threw a weary glance around the room, making sure everyone had heard him. “Got it?”

“Sure thing, man.”

“Ja. Understood.”

Jack looked to Mark last, who still had the same little worried frown creasing his forehead from before, but a bit of that strain had lessened to a degree.

“...yeah. Got it.” Mark managed a tired smile and glanced down to Tim and Sam, still held carefully in his hands, before returning his focus to Jack with a nod. “Thanks, Seán. Go do your thing. I’ve got it handled out here.”

Jack finally smiled then, and some of the tension melted out of his shoulders. He wasn’t alone in this. He wasn’t the only one who had to take charge of this absolute circus of a mess. He and Mark were in this together, best friends taking on the world together, and there were others waiting to help out in the wings if things really went sideways. Amy, Kathryn, Robin...maybe Matt. Perhaps Ethan or Tyler too, if they really needed the help. But the fact still remained that he wasn’t in this alone.

So with one last, appreciative smile and a pat on Mark’s shoulder, Jack set about doing what he had tasked himself with. God, he couldn’t wait for tonight to be over.

[A/N] - Well well well...here we are! The other half of the absolute chaos from the previous chapter, finalized here for you all. I'm sure this chapter will bring as many questions as the last, and they won't go unanswered! My apologies for taking longer to get this one out to you. Life's been a little hectic on my end...heh...but I still have inspiration for this story! Don't you worry!

Next chapter, another much-anticipated character will show his face, and while not as much action will be included it'll be just as intriguing.

I hope.

As always, comments and critiques are always accepted! Let me know what you think, and if you notice any spelling or grammar errors please point them out...I don't always catch them all. ^^;;;

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

[Previous|Next]

[Chapter List]

[pixie-mage]

#SamLives - Pt.12

[Previous|Next?|This story has moved!]

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

[This story has been edited and reposted on the official #SamLives Tumblr. The new post of Chapter 12 can be found here.]

(There is no difference between this version and the new version of Chapter 12.)

...Jack gasped sharply and gritted his teeth, snarling and tugging against the green strings, fighting for his freedom. He had to get out. He had to save Sam, had to help Mark. But there was something...odd about the strings. With each tug against his restraints, Jack felt a little more of the fight leaving him, his will to rebel slowly draining away. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his shoulder was throbbing with pain...so...so wouldn’t it…

...wouldn’t it be easier to just give in?

The Nerf gun fell from his hands, tumbling to the floor with a clatter of plastic and a muffled thump against the carpet.

“No͊w be̺ a̦ go͟õd̏ li᷅t̏t᷁l͋e᷊ pup̝p͟ét, an̂d̯ ğo᷊ t̥õ s͕le̗e̥ṗ.”

Yeah...yeah, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Jack slowly let his eyes drifted shut.

Click.

“You let ‘im go right this fucking second, or I blow your fuckin’ brains out, bro.”

Shing.

“I told you scalpels vere good for more zen just surgery!”

“Oh, shut up! Take care of Jack while I deal with the Glitch Bitch.”

“h᷊O̓w̶ d̍A͇r᷈E̖ y̶OͅU͎?!?”

“Don’t even think about moving, man. Try me.”

Whatever hold Anti’s puppet strings had had over him was beginning to dissipate, the cords themselves no longer as tight and restraining as they once were. He could feel them falling away from his body, as though they were no longer attached to the person that had wielded them before. Jack staggered, groaning, and he felt a pair of hands lightly grip his arms to stop him from falling over.

“Easy Jack, easy,” a voice cropped up from right in front of him, a foreign accent adding an odd flavor to the words. “Slow down. Zose strings can really affect ze mind, even if used for mere moments. Take it from me. I vent through it once und it vasn’t a fun time…”

Jack dragged his eyes open, fighting back toward some semblance of control - and his eyes widened almost comically, a startled noise escaping him.

He was staring at himself. Or, more accurately, a version of himself. The glasses, the smirk, the concerned eyes, the familiar white coat.

“Sch-Schneep?!” Jack stammered. He felt as though he might just topple over from the shock of everything after all.

Jack’s eyes flicked upward, past the Good Doctor’s shoulder, to seek out Anti - and what he saw drew a sharp gasp past his lips.

Chase Brody, the trickshot master himself, was going head-to-head against the glitch demon, Nerf gun drawn and determination in his gaze. Anti was glaring at him with all the rage of hell burning in his eyes, and as Jack watched, he drew back his knife with the intent of landing a quick, painful attack on his taunter. Chase just shrugged and sighed.

“I warned you not to move, dude.”

Chase pulled the trigger, his gun still aimed at Anti’s head.

But it wasn’t a normal foam disc that left the gun’s chamber. It looked the same, at a glance, but there was something more to it - because instead of bouncing harmlessly off of Anti’s chest like Jack’s had, the disc collided with Anti’s skull and sent his image scattering into thousands of glitching pixels in a burst of bright, Nerf-green light. Anti staggered back, his image reforming, and when he did a deep, fury-laced scowl had set in across his features.

Oh, Chase had pissed off the wrong demon.

Anti snarled and dashed forward with his knife at the ready, but Chase had been expecting it. He dove right, rolling with practiced ease over the coffee table and landing in a crouch on the other side. He aimed again - had he even reloaded? When had he reloaded? Did he even need to? - and shot twice, hitting Anti’s shoulder and leg in turn. Both collision points exploded into static-filled distortions like Anti’s head had before, reforming just as quickly and with just as little effect as the first shot.

But it was still slowing him down. It was holding him back. It was hurting him, in a way, and Jack’s jaw dropped.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Jack!” Henrik snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s face, drawing his attention. “Vhere is Sam?”

“Sam–?” Jack mouthed the name, his thoughts still horribly fuzzy from whatever the hell Anti’s strings had done to him. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of cobwebs. Sam...Sam?

Sam!

“A box!” Jack’s eyes snapped open and he pointed across the room, both his and Henrik’s gazes following his finger. “Jewelry box. Anti locked him inside.”

“Scheisse!” Henrik swore under his breath and ran across the room toward the box, his coat fanning out behind him while he left Jack to clutch at the nearby bookshelf for support. His legs felt shaky, his head still buzzing. Fucking hell…

The room around him was nothing but chaos, too much noise and movement for him to fully comprehend all of it. He caught bits and pieces, his eyes darting between Chase and Anti’s rapidly-moving forms, and Henrik who was crouched before the chair in the corner.

Chase did some sort of parkour move off the couch, one foot planting firmly on the cushions and the other pushing off of the wall behind it. He spun in the air, diving over Anti’s swiping knife and barely avoiding getting slashed in the side.

Almost.

Chase hissed and tumbled across the living room floor in a sloppy version of what looked like a practiced roll, teeth gritted in pain and his free hand clutching at his thigh.

“Shit! Fuck!” Chase hissed, pounding once against the floor with the fist still clutching his Nerf gun. He shot a glare at Anti from beneath the brim of his hat, snarling in response to Anti’s shit-eating grin and his glitching giggle. It seemed to spur him into action again, scrambling to his knees and bringing his red-stained hand up to grip his weapon more steadily, aiming again. “Fuckin’ bastard!”

Chase fired, the green shot piercing through Anti’s shoulder and drawing a distorted cry of pain from the demon. Chase smirked.

”Hah!” he taunted, standing up onto slightly unsteady feet and taking a staggered step backwards. “That’ll teach ya not to mess with Chase Brody!”

Anti snarled, clutching at his shoulder as its broken pixels reformed, this time a little slower than before.

"I w̉ou̚ḷḍn̄'̣t̮ b̎e̞ so̠ co᷈cky̓, i̴f̌ I we͛r̵e ỵo͗u͖, de̬a᷊dbeåt̘.”

Even from across the room, Jack could see Chase stiffen at the word. His confidence seemed to wane, the hold on his gun going a little slack, and there was a tightness behind his eyes that Jack recognized. Deadbeat dad. The exact thing Chase never wanted to be, and the one thing - whether it was true or not - that he regretted most.

Was that all it would take for Anti to get to him? One, two words?

Jack watched the man with bated breath. He could see the way Chase’s jaw tensed, the way his nostrils flared and his grip tightened, the way his eyes narrowed...and the way he planted his feet, training his gun back on Anti even as the demon glitched closer and closer, darting forward across the room. No, he wouldn’t be shaken so easily. Chase took two shots straight through the Demon’s chest...but this time Anti was expecting it. Anti was ready. He flickered out of existence just long enough to miss Chase’s discs, grinning wickedly, teeth sharp - but a third unexpected shot hit its mark.

When Chase had pulled the trigger this time, he hadn’t stopped at one or two discs. No. Again and again, unending, his aim shifting with each pull, he rained neon green ammunition down on the ever-approaching monster that seemed hell bent on taking him out for good. Shoulder, leg, chest, head, arm, shoulder–

Anti was hard to see clearly at this point, his image a flurry of exploding and reforming distortions of pixels in the air. He was speaking, shouting, something that Jack couldn’t quite make out through the fuzziness in his head and the level of distortion Anti’s voice had reached.

“Who’s cocky now, huh?!” Chase snapped. This wasn’t the same teasing banter he’d been using before, his tone more serious. “Eat Nerf, glitch bitch!” Anti was only steps away now, so at the very last second Chase dove to the right and landed in a crouch near Jack’s feet. He shot a grin up at Jack - holy shit, it was like looking in a fucking mirror - before glancing past him toward Henrik.

“How’s that box comin’, Doc?”

“Nearly zhere,” Henrik shot back over his shoulder. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and smirked. “Anti’s no idiot. Vhatever zis lock is, it vas made to be impossible to pick.”

“Plan B?” Chase asked, refocusing on Anti, who was finally regaining some semblance of solidity. “Or should we just skip all the way to Plan F-This and get the hell out of here?”

Jack had to admit that Anti looked a little worse for wear. He didn’t look any less angry than before, but a light sheen of sweat could be seen at his hairline, and the scar at his neck had begun to bleed. The battle was beginning to take its toll. Even so, Jack couldn’t help but gulp and press himself flush against the bookshelf he’d been using for support, as though he might be able to phase through it and hide between the books and cacti and video game memorabilia that was kept there. Chase seemed to notice his distress and stood, planting himself firmly between Jack and Anti with his Nerf gun as their shield.

“Vhat do you take me for, a moron?” Henrik joked, chuckling. “Of course I have a Plan B! Zhere is alvays a loophole to exploit, I know zat better zen anyvone.”

“Well are you gonna tell me the loophole, or would you rather leave me hanging while I’m facing down a murderous computer virus?”

“Oh, quit your vhining,” Henrik muttered. He turned back to the jewelry box, from which Jack could hear quiet squeaks and movement from Sam. Sam was okay. He was just...trapped. “I’m removing ze hinges instead. Just keep him distracted until I can–”

“G̈҉e̦͍᷁Ť o̭Ȗt̙ o̵̹̦F͔ m̵͕Y ͘wA̷̵y᷀!”

Anti had finally managed to reform fully, appearing rather suddenly right in front of Chase. Wide-eyed, gasping sharply, Chase brought his gun up to fire again – but Anti was faster. He grabbed Chase’s wrist and yanked harshly to the side, twisting Chase’s arm roughly and drawing a pained shout from the man.

“E̶no̻u͙gh̫ wi̅t̆h͗ y͜òu̸r pLa̰S̶t̙I̼c͐ t͠Oy̦S͑. Fi᷀r᷊s͖t M̤a̅r̠k̻ip̮l͊ie᷁r̝, th͛ên͖ J̼a̓c̲k͂...a᷊n᷇d́ nͅö́w̔ ẙo͉u. I’m᷇ s͍I̯c̅K oF̈́ i͛T!”

A flurry of confusion crossed Jack’s mind. Mark…? Mark had never used a Nerf gun around Anti. Hell, he hadn’t even met Anti. Had he? But...his musings could wait. Anti wasn’t playing games, not anymore. The Nerf gun clattered the ground, and as Chase grit his teeth, Anti’s mouth twisted into a sick smile.

He had the upper hand now, and he wasn’t about to let it go.

Anti’s grip tightened and he wrenched Chase away from his protective position in front of Jack, sending Chase tumbling across the ground and out of his way. The space between Jack and Anti seemed to vanish in an instant and Jack’s vision was filled with the sharp, angry grin of a dark-eyed demon. A hand - a tight, painful, semi-solid hand - closed around Jack’s throat, and he could have sworn he felt his heart stop as fear flooded his system.

Not again. Not again. Please, not again…

White spots danced in the corner of his vision, blurring the edges of Anti’s face, due in part to fear alone. He knew what Anti was doing, now. Anti didn’t want him dead. He wanted him under his control. He wanted to take over. And if he lost consciousness, if he wasn’t awake to fight against that control, it would be so easy, too easy, for Anti to...to...what? What was the end goal here?

Jack couldn’t even think straight anymore, his thoughts a fuzzy mess of static. He brought a hand up to grip feebly at Anti’s wrist, the other reaching out to push at the glitch’s chest, his actions weak and sluggish. Distant words floated through his mind, so near yet so far away. He couldn’t focus enough to figure out who was saying them, or how real they were.

“Doc, c’mon! Hurry up! He’s not letting me get close enough to–”

“I know, I know! I’m almost zhere, just one more–”

“No, I ẖa͗v̶e m̪ůch...͛mùch᷆ b᷆i͈g͗g᷄er p̓lan̶s᷉ foͥr᷆ yõu͕, Jaͅc̻k…”

Not enough air, can’t breath, it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts–

‘Anti you gotta stop! Please!’

Sam’s voice rang through the room, and a blur of green crossed in front of Jack’s vision. The grip around his throat went slack, not leaving completely but giving him enough room to fucking breathe. He gulped down air like it was the sweetest thing he had tasted, and when he refocussed on the scene before him, he saw Sam sitting on Anti’s shoulder. His little eye was full of emotion, pleading quietly with all the adorable sadness of a kicked puppy. And Anti–

..Jack almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. If he didn’t know any better, he might just go so far as to say there was a softness in the way Anti was looking down at the little eyeball, an odd sort of affection and guilt that couldn’t possibly be real. There was no way.

‘Please don’t do this,’ Sam was saying quietly, a shaking unsteadiness to his word. ‘Don’t hurt Jack. I love him very much and I need him, and he...I don’t like seeing him get hurt. It makes me sad, and I...I don’t wanna lose my D...family. He’s my family. So...so please? Let him go?’

Click.

“Just listen to the kid, man.” Chase had recovered his Nerf gun and was standing in the middle of the room, his aim trained on the back of Anti’s head. “Don’t make him cry.”

“You’re outnumbered.” Henrik this time, standing just off Chase’s shoulder with his scalpel in hand, tightening the blade where it sat in the handle, stern eyes peering over his glasses at the pair. “Zhere are four of us, und only one of you. Zat could change, ze longer you’re here. You’re already vorn out, I can see it...and who knows who else might show up next…?”

Jack could see a vein in Anti’s neck pulsing, his jaw tight and eyes narrowed. For a moment, Jack thought the demon might turn them down, might defy them all and go on with his plan anyway. But then Anti’s eyes fell on Sam again...and something in his expression changed. He snarled and shoved away from the bookshelf, leaving Jack to slouch against it in utter-fucking-relief before glitching away in a flurry of static, electric sparks, and distorted pixels. Sam was left tumbling down from where Anti’s shoulder had been, barely catching himself in the air before hitting the carpet.

“T᷊hi̘s̴ i᷁sn't̠ t̔h͏e l͟a͚s̏t͗ y͚oͅủ'l̙l᷁ s͎e̐e̹ őf̆ m͚e̦.”

With those final words the tension in the room dissipated rather suddenly, and Jack slid down to the floor to sit back against the bookcase and catch his breath. His throat was on fire and he coughed, wincing, trying to swallow in an attempt to sooth the renewed soreness. It didn’t really help.

‘Jack!’

Before Jack knew what was happening, he was bombarded by a tiny green projectile, Sam nuzzling up against his cheek and ‘cuddling’ every part of Jack’s face that he could reach.

“I’m–” Oh, god his throat hurt. Jack winced again and brought up a hand to catch the overactive eyeball, tugging him gently by the tail until he was floating where Jack could see him. He smiled weakly, and this time he let his thoughts speak for him.

‘I’m okay, Sam.’ He smiled softly. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks to you. You saved me, buddy. You’re so, so brave…’

Sam giggled quietly at the compliment, his frantic movements slowing for the moment. Jack could still feel the worry that Sam was feeling, a tiny beacon of distress in the back of his mind...but it wasn’t quite so strong as it had been before. He let Sam go and the little eyeball immediately snuggled up against Jack’s chest where he could feel his guardian’s heartbeat, strong as ever if not a little rapid.

“Not to interrupt zis wunderbar little moment,” Henrik spoke up. “But I believe zhere is somebody else ve should be helping?”

‘Oh, yeah! Where’s Mark and Tim?’

It was as if an electric shock had jolted him as the realization struck.

“Dark!” Jack’s words came out pained, hoarse, wheezy, his voice not all there. He winced and gritted his teeth, struggling to his feet and fighting past the flames in his throat. “Dark...ngh...h-he’s outside. Mark went...car. The car.”

Chase and Henrik exchanged a look, and Chase nodded.

“I’m on it.”

He was out the door before Jack had even found his footing. Jack made to follow him, more than just a little worried about his best friend, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him where he stood.

“Nein, you’re not going anyvhere,” Henrik scolded, shaking his head. He guided Jack over to the couch, ignoring his protesting gestures and looks, and forced him down onto it. “You’re injured, und I’m not about to let you go running off into anozher fight so quickly. God, you’re just like Jackie…”

Jack opened his mouth to protest, remembered his throat, and thought better of it in favor of flipping off Henrik with all the impudence of a bratty teenager. The good doctor huffed and sat on the coffee table across from Jack, shaking his head.

“Chase can handle himself, Jack. I trust him vith zis. Ja?” He pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned forward toward his patient. “Now...vhere vere you injured…?”

Mark’s head was pounding, his eyes screwed shut and his nails clutching at his scalp so tightly he couldn’t tell if he had broken the skin or not. Images rushed past in his mind’s eye, rapid and flashing and horrifying all at once.

It would be enough to drive anyone mad.

“Have you given up yet?”

Dark’s voice echoed against the inside of his skull, drawing a pained whimper from Mark, who had yet to change positions from when he had curled up in a ball on his knees at the start of it all. It’s not real, he kept reminding himself, even as he saw Amy’s pained, pleading eyes staring back at him from his own imagination. It’s not real, and it will never happen.

It was the only thing holding him together at this point, that and the thought that somewhere inside the apartment, Jack was counting on him, counting on his help. He needed to fight this, fight back.

Think of something happy.

The little idea that popped into his head sounded remarkably like Tim, which wasn’t too much of a surprise really. Tim was a voice of wonderful positivity in his life, a small beacon of cheerfulness that he could always depend on to brighten his day. So to say that his internal positivity was voiced by the little box? It made complete sense.

Think of something happy.

Himself and Amy, going out for ice cream. Ethan and Tyler, the three of them, laughing through their lines in a short film. A take for the blooper reel, clearly. Kathryn’s teasing remarks. Chica, giving him happy puppy kisses. Himself and Jack, laughing over Spaceballs and Sea of Thieves, acting like idiots and loving every second of it.

Kissing Amy goodnight.

It was helping. It wasn’t lightening the pressure by a lot, but holy shit was it helping. Mark felt some semblance of clarity begin to return to his mind, regaining a sense of awareness that had been lost to him in the sudden onslaught of Dark’s mental attack.

Mark lifted his head slightly, trying to locate Tim somewhere against the concrete backdrop the driveway provided. Instead, dark polished shoes came into his view, the ground crunching ever-so-slightly beneath their soles, and Mark stiffened. He saw the man - no, he wasn’t a man, he was a demon - crouch before him, watching him. Watching. Observing.

“Trying to fight back, are you?” That voice again, smooth and deep and haunting and charming all at once. Echoing. Looping. Belittling. “I’m surprised...and here I thought a spineless, self-serving, self-worshiping monster like you, wouldn’t have enough humanity left in him to find any light in such a dark–”

"Sir?”

Another pair of shoes had appeared near Dark, just beyond him, these ones dark grey sneakers. They were neat, crisp, unworn in any way...and Mark had a sinking feeling he knew who this new arrival might be.

“What is it, Google? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Mark hated being right sometimes.

"Antisepticeye has vacated the premises.”

Mark froze.

“He would like to inform you that ussies ares and things did not go according to plan. There were...as he said, “more players on the board” that he had not anticipated. Anti would like to discuss this matter in more detail, but for tonight, he is no longer in need of our assistance.”

A long pause followed the android’s words, and Mark felt both relief and heart-stopping anticipation in that moment. Anti was gone. Jack was okay, probably. But...what did that mean for him? Would Dark leave, just like that? Or–?

“Pity.” The word stopped Mark’s careening train of thought in an instant. “And here I was hoping I’d be able to break our friend Mark here before the night was out. Ah, well...perhaps another time.”

The pressure in his mind vanished in an instant, leaving Mark to gasp sharply and run his hands through his hair with closed eyes. The relief was absolutely monumental. The vice that had been keeping him in constant pain was gone, and all that remained was a throbbing headache that Mark was sure he could alleviate with some Advil. He sat up, slowly, his gaze dragging upward until both Darkiplier and Google were fully in his sights.

It was like going to a wax museum, where all the wax figures were supposed to be you. They all looked pretty damn close, but there was something...off about them, because the weren’t exact copies.

Plus the fact that one of those wax figures was actually an android, and the other made it look like you were staring through red-n-blue 3D glasses, and neither of the wax figures was actually made of wax…

...yeah, okay, maybe Dark had screwed up his head more than he’d first assumed.

“Is it wise to simply leave him behind as he is?”

“What damage could he possibly do?” Dark quirked an eyebrow at the android. “He knew I existed beforehand; it wouldn’t take a genius to assume others have surfaced as well. This changes nothing. Besides...it isn’t as if we can’t find him again after this evening.”

Dark eyes that held a sinister promise locked on Mark’s, and a shiver went down the man’s spine.

“We have eyes everywhere. He can’t hide, not from us.”

Pounding, running footsteps interrupted what Mark was sure would have been a rather chilling closure. (As if Dark’s last statement hadn’t been chilling enough already.) All three heads whipped around to see Jack bolting for the driveway, the Nerf gun Mark had been playing with all week held tight in his grip. With a cocky grin and more determination than Mark thought was fitting for such an action, Jack aimed his weapon at Dark and cocked his head to the side.

“Game over, Edgelord,” he taunted. Something about the way he was acting, the way he was talking, made Mark do a double-take. “Your homeboy Anti just ran off with his tail between his legs. I think it’s high time you did the same.”

Mark squinted at his friend. When the hell had Jack had time to change his clothes…?

“Should I neutralize him, sir?” Google’s eyes had taken on a red hue, the logo on his shirt glowing brighter than before, but Dark held up a hand to stop his colleague.

“That won’t be necessary, Google.” Dark folded his hands behind his back, smirking at Jack and casting a humorous glance toward the toy he was wielding. “As it is, my friend and I were already on our way out. No need for any further casualties. Not this time.”

Jack nodded to Google, not yet lowering his gun.

“Your Brobot seems to think otherwise.”

“Don’t mind him. It’s just in his programming.” Dark cast a sideways look of contempt toward Mark, still kneeling on the ground, and his lip curled in disgust. “Until next time, old friend.”

Then both Dark and Google vanished into wisps of black and grey smoke, leaving no trace behind, no hint that they had ever been there at all.

“Oh thank fuck...”

Mark groaned and dragged both hands over his face, rubbing the worry lines away and trying to massage his headache into non-existence. He heard footsteps approaching him, but they didn’t quite reach him. Instead he heard Jack veer a little to the left and stop there, an odd sound of plastic-on-plastic reaching his ears. When he let his hands fall into his lap and opened his eyes he realized what it was.

Jack had clipped the Nerf gun into a holster attached along the back of his belt - as though that was were it had always belonged, but where the hell had it even come from? - and he was crouched on the driveway reaching for something that was just out of sight around the front end of the car.

“Oh, buddy...what did he do to you?”

Mark frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. Who…?

Tim.

Mark stumbled to his feet to get closer, peering over Jack’s shoulder, and sure enough the tiny box was unconscious in his friend’s hands. He didn’t look hurt, just...asleep. Knocked out. Mark reached over Jack to take Tim from him, his hands as gentle as ever as he cradled his little biscuit against his chest protectively.

“Dark...he said he wasn’t here to hurt Tim,” Mark muttered, glancing up at Jack. “I don’t think - I think he’s just asleep.”

“I hope so,” Jack nodded, tugging at the brim of his hat and giving Tim another thoughtful glance before standing and turning his gaze back to Mark. “You good though, bro? Mister My Chemical Romance didn’t hurt ya too badly?”

“Not really, no,” Mark shrugged. He started to shake his head too, but the action made his head pound and he immediately decided never to do that again. Instead he stared at Jack, bewilderment flooding his features. “Wait, me? What about you?! Last time Anti was here he nearly killed you, Jack! How did you even–”

The thought was cut off by a rather unexpected laugh from Jack. The Irishman’s expression was bright, humorous, and the laughter that left him was loud and genuine, but the fact that he was laughing at all left Mark staring at him in baffled silence.

“Bro - dude. Oh my god, no.” Jack shook his head, eyes sparkling, and he chuckled as he went on: “Mark, I’m not Jack.”

Um. What?

“You’re not–”

“I’m Chase,” Not-Jack grinned. “Chase Brody.”

Mark blinked, and several things lined up in his head in that moment.

Change of clothes. Nerf gun. Nerf holster. ‘Brobot’ and ‘Edgelord’ and ‘Your homeboy Anti’ and–

“Oh my god, you’re the trick shot guy.”

“Yeah!” Chase’s grin widened and he shot Mark a pair of finger guns. “Exactly! Bro Average, trick shot master! Nice to meet ya, man!”

Mark’s expression was hovering somewhere between amusement and stupefaction.

“Of...course you are. And, uh...how...how many…?”

“How many Egos are there right now?” Chase snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just three, for Jack. I dunno how many Evil Twins you’ve got lurkin’ around, but it’s just me and Henrik and the ol’ Glitch Bitch on Jack’s end. Hen’s taking care of Jack inside right now.”

“Henrik…?”

“Doctor Schneep.”

“Right, okay. The...the German guy.”

“Heh, sure, yeah.” Chase snorted and glanced back toward the apartment, then around at the windows of the other residence in the area. “...actually, we might wanna head in before anyone starts askin’ more questions than they already will be, yeah?”

“Uh…” Mark blinked and shook himself mentally, still struggling to wrap his head around just how similar Chase and Jack looked. He supposed seeing Google, Dark, and himself in the same place probably looked equally surreal. “Yeah. Good point.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“Jack, sit still! Leichtsinnig…” Henrik muttered the word beneath his breath, then glared half-heartedly at Jack over his glasses. “Reckless boy.”

“Hey–!” Jack’s protest came out wheezy and he winced, scowling in annoyed silence instead.

Jack’s sweatshirt had been carefully wrestled off of him not too long ago, and the German doctor was already examining the rather impressive bruises marking Jack’s shoulder. The collision with the television cabinet hadn’t broken the skin, but the area was already turning a deep red color and it hurt to the touch. Jack bit back a whimper as Henrik carefully felt around the area with prodding fingers. He shot the medic a wary look.

“Are you sure y-you actually...know what you’re doing?” he asked, whispering instead. “You don’t have a real medical license…”

“Hush!” Henrik scowled at the YouTuber, his eyes narrowing. “I may not have one, but I vent to medical school same as anyvone else in my field! Ze only reason I don’t have a license is because I–”

The door opened then, drawing the attention of both men and Sam, who had been snuggled up in Jack’s lap. Sam let out a quiet squeak and went airborne, darting across the apartment to snuggle against Mark’s cheek happily.

“Seán?”

“Mark!”

The name hurt to say, the word coming out hoarse and quiet and pained, but Jack’s joy and relief was there nonetheless. He swatted away Henrik’s protests and shoved off the couch, drawing his best friend into a tight hug.

“Fuck, man…” he whispered the words against Mark’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut.

Jack ignored the pain in his shoulder, just letting himself revel in the fact that they were both alive, they were both safe, and they had both made it through whatever the hell had happened tonight. Mark was hugging his friend back just as tightly….but with only one arm.

“Do I even wanna know what the hell Anti did up here while I was gone?”

“...probably not,” Jack admitted quietly. “An’ you’d probably say the same ‘bout whatever Dark did to you outside.”

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through Mark’s chest and Jack finally stepped back, a weak smile playing across his lips.

“Well...you’re not wrong, I would say that,” Mark shrugged, and Jack saw him bring his hands against his chest, holding something there. “But...uh. We kind of need to keep each other in the loop, don’t we? So we can–”

Mark’s gaze trailed downward and he broke off, his eyes widening and his jaw tensing.

“...is that...new?” he asked.

Jack knew what Mark was referring to without even having to ask.

The bruises on his throat, he was sure, looked worse than ever, the old ones from before still a sickly green-yellow while the fresh ones from this evening were a brilliant red. Plus he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so the massive pattern of bruises on his shoulder was fully visible too.

Unable to give him a proper verbal response, Jack just nodded with a grimace. A vein pulsed in Mark’s neck and he seemed to have to force himself to look away.

“VHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU VERE BLEEDING?!”

“Oh my god, Hen, fucking chill, dude. It’s not that bad–”

“JACK VHERE IS ZE FIRST AID KIT??!?!”

“Henrik, for fuck’s sake!”

Jack shot a look to Chase, who was now actively trying to avoid Henrik’s healing warpath while a red stain of blood slowly soaked the thigh of his jeans. Oh...Jack’s mouth fell into a small circle and his eyebrows rose...that was where Anti had caught Chase with his knife earlier, wasn’t it? In the heat of the moment, the chaos of everything, Jack had almost forgotten that it had happened at all.

‘Mister M-Mark? What happened to Tim…?’

Then Sam’s voice chimed in, quiet and worried. Jack saw Mark wince and look down into his hands, where Jack now realized an unconscious Tim was curled safe again Mark’s chest.

“He’s...he’ll be alright, Sam. He’s just...asleep…”

“Vhere is ze sewing kit–?!”

‘You sure he’s gonna be okay?’

“Stop! I’m fucking fine! Dammit, Henrik, you’re not my fucking wife–!”

Everything sounded too loud, the entire room an endless cacophony of noise, and Jack just wanted it to stop. He wanted quiet. His head was still pounding, still spinning, from everything that had happened since Singe had called, and all he wanted was to sit down, talk it over, drink some tea, and go the fuck to sleep. But he could only do that if everyone would just–

“SHUT UP!”

Jack fell into a coughing fit, his throat screaming at him for raising his voice to such a level after the beating his neck had taken...but it did the trick. The room had quieted, all eyes snapping to him, the expressions he received on the other end rather mixed. Mark looked concerned, Chase was still vaguely pissed, and Henrik had a frantic look in his eyes as though he might explode at any second. Sam let out a little startled squeak and tumbled out of the air, Mark catching him with one hand before the little eyeball even had time to right himself.

“God...okay…” Jack took a deep breath to regain some air and nodded, his voice back down to a whisper. “Okay. So. Mark, you’re good. Sit down an’ take care of the kids.” Mark stifled a chuckled at the comment, and the smallest of smirks twitched at the corner of Chase’s mouth. “Chase, sit the hell down. Let Schneep look at ya. I’ll get the first aid kit - yes, and the sewing kit, I know, Doctor - then I’m makin’ myself some tea, we’re sitting the hell down, and we’re gonna talk about what the fuck just happened.” He threw a weary glance around the room, making sure everyone had heard him. “Got it?”

“Sure thing, man.”

“Ja. Understood.”

Jack looked to Mark last, who still had the same little worried frown creasing his forehead from before, but a bit of that strain had lessened to a degree.

“...yeah. Got it.” Mark managed a tired smile and glanced down to Tim and Sam, still held carefully in his hands, before returning his focus to Jack with a nod. “Thanks, Seán. Go do your thing. I’ve got it handled out here.”

Jack finally smiled then, and some of the tension melted out of his shoulders. He wasn’t alone in this. He wasn’t the only one who had to take charge of this absolute circus of a mess. He and Mark were in this together, best friends taking on the world together, and there were others waiting to help out in the wings if things really went sideways. Amy, Signe, Robin...maybe Matt. Perhaps Ethan or Tyler too, if they really needed the help. But the fact still remained that he wasn’t in this alone.

So with one last, appreciative smile and a pat on Mark’s shoulder, Jack set about doing what he had tasked himself with. God, he couldn’t wait for tonight to be over.

[A/N] - Well well well...here we are! The other half of the absolute chaos from the previous chapter, finalized here for you all. I'm sure this chapter will bring as many questions as the last, and they won't go unanswered! My apologies for taking longer to get this one out to you. Life's been a little hectic on my end...heh...but I still have inspiration for this story! Don't you worry!

Next chapter, another much-anticipated character will show his face, and while not as much action will be included it'll be just as intriguing.

I hope.

As always, comments and critiques are always accepted! Let me know what you think, and if you notice any spelling or grammar errors please point them out...I don't always catch them all. ^^;;;

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

[Previous|Next?|This story has moved!]

[Chapter List]

[irish-nlessing]

omg can you write a funny small thing about him fucking you and then getting a pretty melody in his head or lyrics he's been trying to think of and he jumps off and is like BABY I JUST REMEMBERED IT ILL BE RIGHT BACK hfjdhfhf i'd kick his ass

Mirrors

Niall had been spaced out all weekend.  It wasn’t anything major, but just little things seemed to be…off.  He burned his toast - twice.  Abandoned his untouched mug of tea on the table only to make a new one ten minutes later.  When you tried to tell him a story about your brother playing ultimate frisbee and getting clobbered by a team of high school girls he only hummed and nodded.  Normally a story about your brother doing something absolutely asinine would have Niall rolling, with his boisterous laugh echoing through the flat.

When you found him in the laundry room about to pour bleach into the detergent holder you finally snapped.  

“Ok time out!”

You snatched the bottle out of his hands, explicitly ignoring the look of utter confusion on his face.  Grabbing his hands, which still hung helplessly in the air, you dragged him back into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.  

“Spill it.”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion, and he shook his head slightly.

“Uhhh, I feel like this is a trap?  Are you mad at me or somethin’?  Did you get your hair done? If you did, it looks great, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything!  I’ve just been distracted.”  His eyes were wide, the clear blue shifting from side to side as he searched your face for clues.  You sighed and let your shoulders slump forward when you realized how oblivious he actually was at the moment.  Placing your palms against the dark and overgrown stubble on his chin you pressed a kiss to his parted lips and sank down onto his lap.  His wide palms slid underneath you and anchored your body to his own.

“Babe, you’ve been wandering around the flat for two days like a zombie.  I just saved all of your precious dark wash skinnies from a fate worse than death.  You were two seconds away from pouring straight bleach into the wash, Niall.”

His mouth worked open and closed for a moment, seemingly unable to form words.  When he finally did speak, the first thing that fell out of his mouth was, “Shit, Ellie woulda killed me!”  You couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.  You leaned your forehead into the crook of his neck and nuzzled into the warm skin peeking out above the collar of his soft tshirt.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this scattered.”

“Dunno.  I’ve got this bit of melody…or something, guitar riff maybe, floating around in my head and I can’t fuckin’ let it go.”  He brought one of his hands up and pressed the heel of it into his eye.  “My brain just won’t shut off and it’s makin’ me mental.”  He let out a long sigh and slumped down into the chair.  His head tipped back against the chair and his hands gripped your behind to shift you further up on his lap.  Your thin running shorts were hardly any barrier as you slid over him, the prominent bulge in his jogging shorts pressing into your center.  A warm wave of arousal washed over your body and you had a sudden flash of inspiration on how to get him to relax.

“Let me help you.” You purred into his ear and dragged your teeth gently along the shell of his ear.

“What are ya….help me what?”  His adam’s apple bobbed up and down slowly and you could feel him twitch in his shorts beneath you.

You sat back with a smile and deftly swept your shirt off your body along with your sports bra.  Niall’s eyes went wide and a light flush started to creep up his neck towards the hinge of his jaw.

“Let me help you relax.”  You swirled your hips slowly on top of him, arching your back and putting your breasts on display right in front of him.  The cool air in the flat swept over your soft skin and your nipples pebbled at the sensation.  Niall caught up with you immediately and drew your breast into his mouth, swirling and flicking his tongue against your overly sensitive flesh.  You let out a low moan and dug your fingers into his broad shoulders trying to anchor yourself to the chair.  You could feel his cock straining against his shorts as he rutted his hips into you.  When he popped off your breast with a loud smacking noise you immediately stood up and shuffled your shorts off.  He lifted his hips and shed his own and in the next instant you were perched above him suckling tiny kisses into his jaw as your hand dragged the tip of his cock through your wet folds.  When you finally sank down onto him you both let out a relieved sigh.  You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life.  His hands roamed your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’m sorry I’ve been an arse.  Didn’t mean to be.”

“I know baby, I know.”  You silenced him with your mouth, teasing his bottom lip with your tongue until he relented and let you lick into his soft mouth.

His hands had planted themselves into the nip of your waist, helping you bounce on his cock.  You leaned back and held yourself up with your palms on his knees, angling him inside you to reach that perfect spot.  “God Niall this feels so good.  Please don’t stop!”  His face was set in determination, his lips parted just enough that you could see his perfectly white teeth clenched together.  “Touch me.  Rub my clit, ok?  Please?  Just a little bit, enough to feel my body come alive.”  His hips stuttered and you tipped your head forward to see his face screwed up.  His thumb had just started trailing small circles across your aching clit and you were on the verge of finishing.  But something was off now.  

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“I’m so close Ni, what’s the matter?  C’mon fuck me.”

“I….you said….I think…….I think that’s it.”

“What’s it - “

Your voice caught in your throat as one last sweep of his thumb pushed you over the edge.  You arched your back and clenched down around him with a yell.  The instant your body relaxed Niall wrapped his arm around your waist and picked you up off his lap.  Your legs were like jelly and you ended up kneeling on the chair in complete confusion as Niall grabbed his joggers off the floor.

“What the fuck, Niall?!”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.  But that’s it.  That’s the line I’m missing.  I gotta finish it or else I’ll lose it.”  He was standing in his own kitchen, his shorts gripped in one hand and his other hand helplessly cupping at his wet and leaking cock still tucked up against his stomach.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?!  Get back here and get in me! I want to make you come!”  Your hands were perched on your hips and if anyone had walked in they would probably have thought you’d both lost your marbles.

“As much as I want to, I can’t babe.  If I come I’ll get all stupid and it’ll be gone.  You know how I get!”

You rolled your eyes and groaned.  He had a point.  Usually he needed at least 15 minutes and a juice box after an orgasm to make him a functioning human again.  

“Fine.  You’re lucky you got me off or else there’d be hell to pay!  And you can be in charge of getting yourself off when you’re done.  You’re in dick time out!”

Niall grimaced but shuffled over and left a wet kiss on your cheek.  “You’re my muse and I love ya, and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yeah yeah.  Get out of here.”

Niall scampered off towards his writing room and you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling at his pale ass bouncing down the hallway.  

You dropped your head in your hands and groaned.  “Oh my God, I’m in love with a beautiful idiot.”

A faint shout wafted down the hallway, “I HEARD THAT!”

You bite your lip and chuckled.  “GOOD!”

[dimmestmorn13]

Lol Idk who the charas are in this writing of mine...

but now that i think about it, they kinda remind me of Tom and Tord from Eddsworld but im not sure,,,this was meant to be ambigous so,,,

but anyway here,  i guess, imean like, i doubt anyone’ll read this anyway...

---

They been unconscious for how many days now and loathe you were to admit it, you were getting worried about them. From what one of their friends have told you, it seems like they were recovering quite well, considering…

Your eyelids feels so heavy and you can feel yourself nodding off. You can’t remember when you last slept; or when you last ate for that matter. A yawn escapes you, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You probably look like shit. Honestly, you don’t even know why you were so worried for the damn bastard-

Their hand twitches.

You felt your fatigue and sleepiness disappear in a flash, as if you chugged that monstrous combination of coffee and Red Bull in one gulp.

Their head leans further into the pillow as their eyes scrunched up, body twisting slightly to their left, being confined to their bed leaving their muscles stiff and aching. Finally, they open their eyes (well, technically they only opened one eye) and stare blankly at the ceiling. They don’t seem to notice your presence and you’ve gotten impatient with waiting, so you put your hand to your mouth and let out a loud cough. Maybe then, they’ll fucking finally look at you-

They blink twice –confused, as they search for the source of the cough— and push themselves up with their elbows, wincing at how much their body was so unused to movement and carrying their own weight. They stare at you blankly, tilting their head to the side like they were one of those confused moe anime characters. Nothing is said, as both of you just stare at the other.

You decide that this silence was getting you nowhere (no shit, Sherlock-) and start, “Well?” Their blank gaze was starting to creep you out and hey, you might actually like seeing that annoying-as-hell smug grin on their face instead. “What’s all this? Staring with that creepy-ass stare, geez. Is it the meds? They fucking up your brain or some shit?” You’re not a doctor, that much you admit, but you’re sure that this isn’t how someone acts after waking up from some sorta coma-like state-

“Sorry but,” they interrupt your train of thought, “might I ask: who are you?”

Blood drains from your face as you look at them with dread in your eyes. This is not happening. This can’t be happening. This can NOT be fucking happening-

A burst of laughter tears you away from your trance. They were laughing their heart out, hands clutching their bandaged stomach and tears welling up as their eye is closed shut.

You’re brain-dead, probably, as you stare uncomprehendingly at the sight of the damn jackass wheezing and sounding like a dying cat. Or maybe a hyena. Yeah, hyena sounds better.

“I can’t,” they slip a giggle or two, the little shit, “can’t believe you actually fell for that!” They wipe their tears and shoot that annoying and maddening smug grin that you hate oh so much.

You feel your fists clenching tightly, gritting your teeth so hard they might break.

Suddenly, they fall to the floor with a pained gasp. You don’t realize that you’ve punched them until you feel the familiar sting of pain on your knuckle.

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” you yell at the fallen and injured shitty person you can’t believe even fucking exists and maybe, just maybe, you had been considering trying to be their friend but no, the fucker just ruined the slimmest chance of that happening with that stunt they just pulled. “To think I actually got worried about you, to think I’d actually been considering becoming your friend!” You look down and no, you were not trying to hide the tears (which are non-existent, you swear) dribbling down your chin. You just didn’t want to look at the idiot’s stupid and ugly face anymore.

“I HATE YOU!!” you scream one last time and slam the door shut loudly and with more force than needed; you were hoping the hinges broke off. Screw the neighbors if they complain, it’s not your problem anyway.

They stare at your pissed off, retreating back with a sad smile as they ignore the pain on their stinging cheek. "Heh," they chuckle, fingers lightly brushing the hidden, faint scars on their wrist. "I hate me, too."

They make no motion to get back on the bed. They just sat there on the ground, hugging their knees to their chest.

Maybe their clothes were getting wet. Maybe their eyes were getting red, puffy, and aching. Maybe they’re tired of screaming their voice hoarse every night, but they don’t really care.

(At least, that’s the lie they tell to themselves each time.)

---

really reminds me of Tom and Tord damnit

should i tag it as such?? ugh y’know what nvm i’ll just do my write tag

(constructive crits would be appreciated--)

[beachballsizeladyballs-blog]

7 Hungry Walker's - Negan x Reader

The Walking Dead Fanfiction Part Of: Disney Movie Challenge @deanjensengirlmaggie Movie: Snow White Warnings: violence, walker blood, language, smut A/N: Set at the beginning of the apocalypse

Negan was walking around the woods looking for a deer or squirrel or anything he could eat. He came upon a small cottage, it was old, run down, bricks were missing, tiles were falling off the roof. The door was barely on its hinges and no glass was in the windows. “Fuck me, that’s a piece of shit, but I guess it’ll do for the night” he said, that’s when he heard the screaming. It was a woman and he could hear her, she was obviously in trouble. He turned to go in the cottage, when he saw her and she made eye contact. She was gorgeous, he picked up his knife and gun and ran towards her, “hey, come on, run, run to the shit house” he yelled. She took off running and she put her hand on the door knob and the whole door fell to the ground. Negan was behind her, along with at least seven walkers, “what happened to the fucking door” he said. He picked it up and put it back in place, “hold this I have to find some tools” he said. He came back with a screwdriver, “keep holding it sweetheart, I have to screw it in” he said. “Hurry, they’re banging the door” she said, he got the hinges screwed and the door somewhat stable.

“Thank you, for coming to help me, I’m Y/n” she said, “no problem sweetheart, I’m Negan” he said. A walker fell through the front window that had no glass, “fuck, this place is a death trap” Negan said. He stabbed the walker in the head and pushed it back out the window. “We can use the shelves” she said, “yeah you get that one” he said. They put book shelves in front of the front windows and the fridge and pantry door on the back window. “Are we safe here” she said, “not for very long, this things falling apart” he said.

“Where are you heading” she asked, “I’m going to meet up with my buddy Simon, if he’s still alive” he said. “Can I come with you, I’m gonna die out here on my own” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Yeah, you can come with me, it be nice to have company, especially a beautiful woman” he said. He looked at her she had very white skin, bright red lips, blue eyes and black curly hair. “Your a dead ringer for Snow White, you know that” he said. “Yeah, I’ve been told that, I’m definitely not wholesome like she is, I have done things” she said. “Well doll, we’ve all gotta do what we have to do, to survive” he said. “I had to shoot my sister Sara because she was one of those things” she said. “Yeah, we’ve all had to kill someone like that, you can’t beat yourself up, the bite killed who she was, you just killed the body, it was empty” he said. “I never thought about it like that” she said, “you cold doll” he said, “yeah I am” she said. Negan stood up and took his jacket off and put it over her shoulders, she put it on, “thank you Negan” she said. “Not a problem sweetheart” he said, “in going to break up these chairs to use as firewood and get it warmer in here” he said.

Negan broke up the chair and threw the pieces into the fireplace, he ripped the pages out of the books on the floor and threw the paper in with the wood. He lit a match and threw it in the fireplace and he sat back down on the floor. “You warming up doll” he asked, “yeah a little bit” she said, she smiled at him. It had started to get dark outside, “do you have anything to eat or drink” she said. “Yeah I have water but no food, I wish I did, I’m hungry too” he said, he handled her the water. “I was looking for food when I found you” Negan said, “I was looking for water, food, shelter or people” she said. They heard moaning and banging outside, the walkers were still trying to get in, “shit, Negan is it gonna hold” she said. “We have to at least stay here tonight, it’s not safe out there at night” he said. “I’m gonna have to go open the door and kill those bitches before they come in here” he said. “Really your going out there” she said, “yeah, no other choice, here you hold the gun, don’t fire unless you have to” he said.

Negan opened the door and was face to face with a smile stuck on its face, he stabbed his knife in its head. She shot one coming right at Negan, she shot it and it fell and he stabbed it in the skull. Two more tried to get in the door and Negan stabbed them both. Y/n shot another one that was crawling on the floor and going for Negan’s leg and that one she shot in the head. There were two by the steps in front of the porch, “let me have the gun sweetheart” he said. He fired twice and hit them both in the head, then he pushed the corpse out of the doorway. “Negan are you okay” she said, “yeah I’m ok at least we should be safe for the night” he said.

They sat by the fire, he put his arms​ around her and pulled her close to him trying to keep her warm. She put her head up and he moved his head down and kissed her lips. His tongue brushed her bottom lip asking for entrance which she granted. He slid his tongue in her mouth and they explored each other’s mouths. The kiss was filled with passion and lust and need of each other, they pulled away from the kiss. She took the jacket off and threw it to the side, he put his hands on the hem of her shirt and pulled it off. She did the same thing with his, Negan put his hand behind her and unhooked her bra and took it off. He guided her down on the blanket on the floor by the fireplace and got on top of her. His lips found hers again and there tongues danced together while their hands explored each other’s bodies.

Negan unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them off along with her panties, he growled at the sight of her naked body. Y/n unfastened his belt and pants and he pulled them down and kicked them off. “Are you sure you wanna do this” he said, “yes Negan I want you, I need you in me” she said. That’s all he needed to hear, he spread her legs with his knee and positioned himself in-between her legs. He slowly slid his cock into her entrance, “fuck your so warm and tight Y/n” Negan growled. “Negan your so big” she moaned, she dug her nails into his back as he slowly began thrusting. “Negan harder, fuck me harder please” she screamed, “fuck, you’re a dirty, naughty girl” Negan said.

Negan gave her what she wanted and began to pound into her and she scratched her nails into his arms. He pulled her nipple in his mouth and sucked it, she wrapped her legs around his waist forcing him deeper. “You close doll” he growled, “yes” she barely managed to get out. He took her other nipple in his mouth and sucked it, while he tweaked her other nipple with his fingers. With his free hand he rubbed rough circles on her clit, making her orgasm shoot through her. She scratched her nails down his back, “Negan yes, fuck, yes” she screamed. Negan came right after she did he pulled out and came on her stomach, he grabbed the corner of the blanket and cleaned off her stomach. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When they woke up the next morning the sun was up and there were no walkers in front of the cottage. Negan went out to the porch, what was left of it anyway, he lit his cigarette. Y/n was woken up by a cold breeze on her back, she opened her eyes and he was gone. She got dressed and went outside to see him smoking, she went over and put her arms around his waist. “Good morning Negan” she said, “morning doll, I came out here so I wouldn’t wake you” he said. “You didn’t, a cold draft on my ass woke me” she said, “hey, can Snow White bum a stick” she said. “Sure” he said as he handed her a cigarette and lit it for her, “thank you” she said. “So if in Snow White does that make you Prince Charming” she said. "Haha I've been called charming but never a prince, let's head out Snow White" Negan said.

Pt 2?

Tags @deanjensengirlmaggie @bulletscrossbowpie @totallypaletrash @twdjunkie2 @cenagirlsrda @negans-network @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @negandarylsatisfaction

[cyanoscarlet]

if it ain't broke, don't fix it

(stories on (and off) ice)

Once upon a time, on a sunny afternoon in Bangkok, Phichit Chulanont broke the door of the fridge twice, then broke the fridge down completely.

The big, old, white box had been a wedding gift to his parents, at that time the latest model of its kind. Among all the appliances in their house, it had been the only one that stood the test of time, lasting even longer than the old analog TV set. His mother had been adamant about keeping it around despite the increasingly bad reception it got and the colors bleeding over all the wrong places. She'd changed her mind, however, when she'd won a new flatscreen unit from a company raffle draw.

In any case, this refrigerator was the last thing in the house that dated back to the humble beginnings of the Chulanont family -- given that his older sister was born two years after their marriage, and she's now twenty-four, the fridge must be a little over twenty-six years old.

  .

  "And you're telling us this, why again?" Leo sits across him and Guanghong on the bed, fiddling with his tablet's notifications. Definitely no social media again until after the US Nationals.

Phichit props his feet up the mess of pillows and blankets, putting down his beloved Galaxy Note 7 beside the gold medal. "Just remembered it all of a sudden."

  .

  As with the TV set, Pirawan Chulanont had been even more vocal against replacing the old fridge. "Only the door hinges are rusted. I'm not replacing it while it's completely functional," she argued from the kitchen sink while Siriwan carefully shut the door, a bottle of cold water tucked in her arm.

"Mother, you cannot make us 'support the door with both hands when you open and close it' forever," the eldest of the three siblings countered back, reading verbatim the hastily-scribbled reminder stuck to the door with a Thai Skating Federation commemorative magnet. "You know how Phichit raids this thing almost every day."

"Well, he'll have to learn to 'raid the thing' less, then," their mother said simply. "He's a competitive skater; he has to eat more real food and less sweets."

Siriwan sighed in defeat. As the future doctor of the house, she was inclined to agree.

Just then, Phichit burst into the entryway, a medium-sized package in his arms. "I'm home, everyone! Yuuri sent us some Japanese snacks."

Anchalee, the youngest, squealed from behind him, also having just arrived from high school. "Ahhhhhh yesssss! Is there Pocky?! Is there?! Brother Yuuri knows I love the strawberry-flavored ones!"

The young girl excitedly pushed her brother to the kitchen, where Siriwan opened the package to sort its contents. "I'll put these in the fridge for you guys," she offered, carefully balancing the door on a low makeshift stand, then slowly pushing both implements carefully to open the refrigerator wide enough.

  .

  "No, Brother Yuuri has not heard of that until now." Yuuri emerges from the bathroom, wiping his hands dry with a paper towel. "Is that why Anchalee has been avoiding me back when we visited your place?"

"What can I say? You broke her heart," Phichit mock-accuses his good friend. "She hates anything with matcha the most."

"Speaking of Pocky flavors," Guanghong pipes up, "which flavor does Yuuri like?" Suddenly, the room is quiet as the three young skaters wait for his answer with bated breath.

"... Chocolate, I guess," Yuuri mutters after a couple of minutes.

Phichit immediately wiggles his eyebrows with glee. "I'll make sure to tell Viktor later!"

"PHICHIT, NO."

  .

  As mentioned earlier, it happened one sunny afternoon in Bangkok.

Phichit returned home for lunch, feeling incredibly accomplished after that morning's practice run. Landing his quadruple toe loop perfectly always gave him a euphoric rush, and he was raring to go back to the rink and skate some more until dinner time. The Cup of China is fast approaching; he can't waste a single minute.

But first, food. Some dessert wouldn't hurt. And iced water - lots of it.

He hastily opened the fridge to get the water and a box of matcha Pocky -- and froze in place when he heard a metallic creak and snap. Suddenly, the door felt a lot heavier than usual.

Phichit fearfully peered over the white door. The bottom hinge had completely come off, the holes in which the lone screw was supposed to be rusted away beyond any and all recognition.

Somewhere in his jumbled thoughts, he vaguely remembered his older sister grumbling about having to install a stupid improvised harness for the top hinge because keeping the top screw in place would not be enough to support the door's weight.

He inspected said harness from the periphery of his vision. It had all but snapped upon taking the brunt of the sudden impact earlier.

Siriwan will be so pissed off, he mentally groaned. And if there's anything Phichit doesn't want to deal with at this crucial point in time, it's an angry Siriwan. With a near-exasperated sigh, he carefully sealed the fridge shut again. He had more important things to do than this.

  .

  "I'll never understand why Mother still wanted that thing around, though," Phichit complains to his audience of three. "Even if it was a wedding gift, it doesn't make sense to keep it if it's already broken."

"Sentimental value runs deep, my good man," Leo recites, now leaning onto Guanghong's shoulder. "Besides, if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

"They should still have gotten a new one," Phichit insists. "You gotta listen to reason."

The three laugh in unison. Knowing how the seemingly perpetually happy and cheerful Thai usually takes things like this in stride, they find it amusing how this single incident sticks out like a bad sore thumb, he is actually griping about it.

Still, though... "That's what I told you when you insisted on marrying your phone."

Phichit glares at Yuuri intensely, holding the bright green thing to his chest. "This is entirely different!" More laughter ensues.

  .

  Phichit ran back home halfway through his commute to the rink. How could he have forgotten his phone, of all things? He dashed to his room and unplugged the fully-charged gadget from the dock. He also packed the power bank and some extra hand towels while he was at it.

Exhausted from his run, he made his way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to get some water.

This time, the door completely fell off.

"What the fuck?!"

He completely forgot about the broken door -- rather, how he'd just broken it hours earlier.

What the actual fuck.

You had one job, Phichit thought to himself. One. Job.

If it weren't for his quick reflexes, he would have almost dropped the heavy thing. Once he regained his footing, he steadied the door with both hands and leaned it against the wall. Thankfully, none of the foodstuffs in it were damaged. (The eggs, especially. He wouldn't know what to do if those were broken.)

(He'd be dead, for starters. He just refused to admit it. Fortunately, no one was home to witness his blunder.)

Phichit called Celestino to inform that he was going to be late. He had a fridge door to fix.

But first, water -- since the good old box was already wide open and all. Hah.

"What the hell?!" a shrill voice screamed from behind him, causing him to do a sudden spit take and drop the bottle he was drinking from. Phichit didn't have time to be surprised at his ambusher, however, as the iced liquid splashed over the outlet to which the refrigerator was plugged, causing the thing to short-circuit and subsequently explode.

The kitchen was quiet as the machine made weird, whirring sounds before permanently dying down. Phichit found himself hanging on to his older sister, and she gripping tightly onto him, as well. They were frozen on the spot, both momentarily lost for words at what had just happened.

Well, that was underwhelming, was his first thought. Sister looks pretty in her white uniform, was the second.

Siriwan voiced the third for him. "Oh my god."

The lock turned from outside, and their mother announced her return to the house at large. Upon reaching the kitchen, she dropped the groceries onto the floor in shock.

  .

  "So you're buying a new fridge," Yuuri closes the story, using a very unusual deadpan tone that he usually reserves for when he's one-hundred percent done with everything. He even skipped the entire flailing-around-like-a-crazed-chicken part.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Phichit affirms, nodding away as if nothing had happened. Leo and Guanghong hold on to each other on the bed, both speechless with shock.

Yuuri saunters over to the desk, upon which several printed catalogues of refrigerator models were stacked. "So that's what these are for," he muses, pushing up his glasses as he reads the fine print. "Why are you looking these up, though?"

"I'm paying for part of it because it was me who broke the old one." Phichit flops back onto the bed, tapping away at his phone again. "At least I have a good story to tell the children someday."

Yuuri has nothing to say against that. He wonders how his friend will begin the tale when he does tell it. Knowing him, though, it would be somewhere along, "Once upon a time..."