#i went through at least a dozen people just for my wrist

[mellosdrawings]

For the wings au... is there no uhhh. Safer?? Way to remove the wings like idk a surgery? Jamils family seems to (in some form cus I'm sure there's a better way) choose the painful and shitty health method of knife cutting like, every year?month? Like it sucks anyways but come on the health issues...

Anyways the art is amazing and it hurts so gooood

Oh, there would definitely be safer ways.

But they would leave traces. Official surgeries and all that involve a lot of time, paperwork and money, especially for a thing that has to be repeated very regularly.

And the Viper's problem is that NOBODY can know. Words travel fast, especially amongst servants. Should anybody figure out something is going on with them, that could bring problems to the whole family without a single feather having to be seen.

So secrecy it is. And pain.

For their safety.

(I'm glad you enjoy this series <3)

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

[worlds-worst-ships]

Do you ship it?

"Hey Jack, who's your least favourite prota-" its Subaru.

Subaru... is FUCKING SHIT

"Oh hey, I just woke up in a world where people can shoot lasers, fireballs and icicles from their hands, freeze time, fucking FLY and tear holes in space-time with a flick of their wrist... lemme spend the entire time trying to get laid with a girl way out of my league!" like, piss off.

Oh yeah, and conveniently he can learn to fire time-altering shards in like, ten seconds, never once tried actually learning about shadow magic even though he had an entire library of magical knowledge and someone able to teach him right fucking there, and, lets be honest, is a fucking horrendous example of how to treat the girl you love. All that time, and never once did he even try to learn powers that could've saved him and everyone he cares about dozens of times. Subaru is the miraculous lovechild of plot convenience and plot incompetence at the same time. He is spectacularly shit.

I think this article explains it well tbh

But as for the defense of "if you went through what he went through, you'd break too", if I was in his situation, I'd have learned enough magic that half the things that traumatised him wouldn't have even touched me. Look what Satella does with shadow magic. If I learned to do that, tf is literally any character other than maybe that ginger knight going to do to me? He'd oneshot 95% of the cast. And yes, I am blaming him, because not once does he actually try until the shit really hits the fan, so yes, it is his fault. All for a girl he doesn't even know how to treat right.

[angelofacidx]

Mine

((@bunnyreaper V day exchange for @literatecowboy . I do not write fluff but here’s my crack at it, enjoy))

Ghost x reader fluff.

Valentine’s Day is a stupid Hallmark holiday meant to put pressure on couples to over perform and shower each other with gifts so that they may forget about how they treat each other the other 364 days of the year, or to make people feel isolated and lonely for not having a partner in their life. At least, that’s what you’d told yourself for most of your adult life. A self soothing consultation? Maybe. Valid? You’d like to think so. This view was swayed however, when Simon slipped his way past the iron gates of your heart and made himself a home there, rent free, the bastard.

A poorly folded note sat on top of your endless pile of risk assessment paperwork to go over before the end of the week, looking sorely out of place on your otherwise tidy desk. The note found itself clutched between your hands and splayed open as your curiosity surged. The handwriting itself was harsh, pen pressed too hard, angrily or nervously, and akin to what you’d expect a serial killer’s penmanship to be.

‘Be my valentine? -S’

Good lord, this was cheesy for anyone but especially for Simon. Regardless you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and your lips half quirk up involuntarily and awkwardly. Tucking the note away into your desk drawer, you headed to the rec room in pursuit of it’s sender. Thankfully, he was hunkered down on the peeling leather couch, tea in hand as he scrolled through an article on his phone. Probably about WWII. Men love WWII.

“You know you didn’t have to ask right?” You speak up, causing Simon’s gaze to tear away from his phone and fall onto you.

“Pardon?”

“The note. You didn’t have to ask. It’s kinda like…implied since we’ve been uhm..” You cough, clearing your throat and hoping he understands the implication.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, and not bothering to humor you.

“…Yes, but no corny stuff.”

“So a string quartet to your office. Got it.” He says, turning his attention back to whatever he was reading.

When you wake, Simon is out of your bed and gone, his side neatly made with the corners of the sheets and duvet hospital tucked and the pillow fluffed. This wasn’t unusual for the two of you by any means. He’d come over after work, get fed, rearrange your internal organs in a way he saw fit, retire with you for the night, and then be out before his conditioning regimen started.

You sit up in bed, arching your back like a cat and stretching your body out with a content moan, shrugging off the sleepy feeling that ran bone deep. Your phone lit up on your bed side then, calling your attention to the string of ‘happy Valentine’s Day!’ texts from your friends. Cute. No text from Simon though, as you suspected. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot about the whole ordeal and the note was just a manipulation tactic, hoping you’d fawn over the gesture and suck the soul out of him harder than you had before.

Your morning routine went by without issue. Shower, brush your teeth, get dressed and apply makeup, a small spritz of perfume to your wrist. Making your way to the dining room, the usual resting spot for your keys, you’d noticed an iced coffee from your favorite cafe sitting on the table. It was a kind gesture, although the cup was sweaty and the ice was slightly melted, it was sweet of him nonetheless.

Your day at work dragged on as usual. Typing, filing, placing new recruits in their respective units and then completing the paperwork that went with it. Although you were just a desk jockey, you were the backbone of every goddamn task force on this base. Nature called you out of your office to relieve yourself and upon returning, your eyes mimicked an owl’s; huge pupils the size of saucers. Your desk was overtaken by a flower arrangement. Two dozen roses, babies breath, carnations, and eucalyptus all bunched together with a big silky black bow and overflowing the poor glass vase.

This was too much and beyond embarrassing. Your face heated, palms gathering sweat, and heart hammered somewhere deep in your chest. You mentally cringed at the image of carrying this home, the walk of shame off base and the sure to follow childish “ooo”’s from your colleagues. You had to admit though, it was a beautiful arrangement. He had to have picked it out and put some thought and consideration into it, which meant a lot to you even if you didn’t want to admit it.

With a determined pace you left your office, aiming to find Simon. After checking every nook and cranny of the base and leaving no stone unturned, you came up blank. He definitely knew you were looking for him, and saw you before you could see him. Though he was massive, he was able to be elusive and slip right through your fingers like sand. You admired the ability and wished you could do the same, but in the moment you hated him for it. Feeling defeated you headed back to your office, hat in hand, to see another note on your desk.

‘I’ll see you at home. -S’

Home. The word echoed in your mind. Though he stayed over at your place most nights during the week he’d never called it your home. The word itself sent you reeling, a giddy chuckle escaping you before you could stop it. Jesus, get a grip. He’s a guy you’re monogamously hooking up with who just so happens to return to your house every night like a stray cat, not your boyfriend. Totally not.

The end of your shift could not come faster. You sped walked to your car with your arms around the comically large vase, careful not to spill any water as it sloshed around and threatened to soak you. The vase ended up in your passenger seat, buckled in like a person as you made the trek back home.

Entering and kicking off your shoes, the smell of garlic, basil, and onion hit you. Simon sat at the table, two plates of pasta on either side and two glasses of wine. Carefully, you set the vase down as a centerpiece and ruffled a hand through his hair.

“You didn’t need to do all that Si. I appreciate it but you totally could have gotten away with a card or something.” You said, placing a kiss on his forehead before taking a seat at the table. Everything looked amazing.

“You’re better than a card darlin’ M’ almost offended for you. Have some standards will ya?”

“If I had standards you wouldn’t be sitting across from me.” You teased, which pulled a chuckle from his chest and the shake of his head. Your hand found his, giving him a reassuring squeeze that you were joking before letting it fall to your side.

“Did you cook this?” You questioned, stabbing a fork into the pasta and swirling it to gather some on the fork.

“…No. But I plated it so that counts for somethin’ right?”

“It does.” You assured, digging into your food.

The dinner and wine was delicious but silent, how the both of you liked it. Life and work was so busy it was nice to just sit together and exist without noise sometimes.

After you’d both finished you attempted to stand and clear the dishes but he stopped you with a hand to your chest, taking the duty on himself.

“They are beautiful, really. The flowers I mean. I appreciate them and I appreciate you, you really didn’t have to—.”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand, drying them on the dish towel after he finished cleaning up.

“You’re goin’ all soft on me and haven’t even opened the best part.”

“The best part? What is it?” You questioned too fast, mentally scolding yourself for sounding eager.

He fished a small box out of his pocket, placing it on the table in front of you and nodding his head, a silent tell to open it. Your hands found the box, opening it at its hinges carefully. Inside and sitting on the plush black velvet of the box laid a small silver chain necklace with the initial ‘S’.

Your eyes once again widened in awe as he moved to grab it from you carefully.

“Hold up your hair.” He said barely above a whisper.

With your hair out of the way he clasped the necklace around you, adjusting it to his liking before letting your hair fall back to its resting place.

“I uhm.. This.. What does this..?” You trailed off, anxiety twisting in your stomach.

“It means you’re mine, yeah?” He said in a hushed tone, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“..Yeah.” You agreed, breathily and hugging him to your chest.

You were his.

[necrotic-nephilim]

"How else am I supposed to learn if you don't punish me?" With Jason x Bruce ship pls 🙏

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

fucked up BruJay my beloved. this is. honestly more emotional whump than physical and the romance is implied, but i do like this piece a lot, even if i struggled with it a bit. have 2.2k of Bruce and Jason struggling to get along. enjoy <3

Sometimes, Jason did it on purpose.

He knew Bruce’s patrol route better than anyone. Which was by design. Jason wanted to know where Bruce was, what he was doing, and who he was doing it with at all times. And really, Bruce didn’t seem to be stopping Jason from keeping tabs. None of Jason’s carefully placed trackers were removed, and Jason knew better than to assume Bruce had lost his touch. Bruce knew they were there, and he knew they were Jason’s.

So if Jason wanted to avoid Bruce, he knew how to do it. And when he really did want to get work done under Bruce’s nose, it was easy for Jason to dance around Bruce’s schedule and send him tail spinning just trying to keep up with Jason.

But some days, Jason didn’t want to avoid Bruce. He wanted the thrill of the chase.

So he got caught on purpose.

He picked a gang on the side of town Bruce always patrolled at this hour. He used the loudest guns he had with no silencers. He started the messiest brawl he could.

And he waited.

Jason didn’t have to wait long.

Like it always was with Bruce, the entrance was dramatic. Shattering glass as a large form with an unfurled cape descended from the skylight. Jason smiled under his helmet.

There were already at least half a dozen dead. The rest were running around like ants, either trying to get away from Jason or futilely trying to fight him.

“You’re late!” Jason shouted over his shoulder. He dodged a batarang thrown in his general direction. “I expected you to get here at least five minutes earlier.”

“Robbery a block away,” Bruce said brusquely. He turned to a few gang members with tire irons and shivs lifted, ready to charge Jason. “Run. Now.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Jason raised his gun to shoot one. He wasn’t particular about who he picked. He knew it didn’t matter. The bullet wouldn’t actually hit them.

Because just on time as Jason squeezed the trigger, a batarang buried into his hand. He swore and dropped the gun.

“Enough, Hood,” Bruce said coldly.

Jason smiled under his mask. “Someone’s gotta clean up this city.” He lunged for another thug.

Bruce’s body was like a battering ram, slamming into Jason. He was heavy enough to knock the wind out of Jason, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Jason groaned, trying to throw Bruce off of him. When that didn’t work, he went for his belt, grabbing his kris dagger and flipping it around.

“Do you hold any value for human life?” Bruce demanded. He grabbed Jason’s wrist and pinned it against the ground. “These aren’t supervillains, they’re normal people down on their luck-”

Before Bruce could finish talking, one of the gang members bashed him over the head with a wooden plank. Bruce’s cowl was reinforced, but the little bastard had managed to hit hard enough to snap the plank clean in half. A grunt was forced out of Bruce and his whole body buckled.

Now that was just rude. Bruce was Jason’s meat, not some stupid punk’s. Possessive jealousy flared through Jason, watching Bruce wince in pain to a wound Jason didn’t give him.

“Yeah, they seem real grateful to their savior,” Jason sneered. He threw Bruce off of him and grabbed the gang member. A wiry thing, probably still a teenager. Jason twisted them around to hold his dagger against their throat with his fingers buried into their hair, holding them still. A horrified noise came out of them. Not that Jason particularly cared. He wasn’t the one stupid enough to try beaning Batman with some plywood.

Bruce was on one knee, looking up at Jason. “Don’t.” His fingers twitched toward his utility belt.

“You can’t stop me,” Jason taunted, pressing the blade against tender flesh until the person was squirming in his grasp and blubbering out incoherent pleas for mercy. “Hands where I can see ‘em, B.”

If Jason was anyone else, Bruce would’ve stopped him by now. A quick flick of his wrist to hit Jason with a tranq dart, was how he guessed Bruce would do it.

But he wasn’t just some rogue. He was Jason. And that made Bruce go still, actually listening to Jason’s demands.

“You’re just doing this for attention,” Bruce said carefully, keeping his whole body tense, but not moving it. “Let them go.”

“It’s working.” Jason shrugged, adjusting his hold on the stranger. “So can you blame me?”

“There are other ways to do it without-” Bruce briefly looked around the room at the bodies littered everywhere- “casualties. And innocent hostages.”

“Innocent?” Jason laughed. He turned to address the person he was holding. “Do you think you’re innocent? Why don’t you tell the Batman where these drugs were getting funneled.”

“I don’t- please, I just help packaging- I didn’t-”

Jason huffed in annoyance. “I’ll tell him for you. The middle school down the street. And if there was extra supply, the youth center just around the corner from it too. You remember that youth center don’t you, B? I slept there sometimes as a kid. It was warmer than the streets.”

Bruce’s mouth faintly twitched. His jaw was set. Jason could see him grappling with the rage of knowing exactly who these low lives were dealing to, while still wanting to tell Jason off for all the ugly murder.

How contradictory that nasty little moral code of his could be.

“Let them go,” Bruce spoke slowly, “and we’ll work together to figure out how-”

“Oh don’t even pretend,” Jason laughed. “Don’t pretend you would work with me for a second.”

“Let them go,” Bruce repeated. He seemed to pointedly avoid admitting to Jason’s point.

Jason let out a long hum like he was thinking about it. “I don’t know. What’s one more to my body count?” He started to press the blade.

Bruce moved inhumanely fast. He kicked up, knocking the knife out of Jason’s hand without hitting the gang member. His hands went for Jason’s throat and he managed to get Jason back on the ground. The gang member ran off, footsteps echoing until they were gone while Jason and Bruce grappled, trading punches and kicks until Bruce managed to pin Jason down. Blood was pouring from Jason’s nose and Bruce had human claw marks across his cheek.

Rough. Animalistic. Just the way Jason liked it.

“Why do you do this?” Bruce spoke through grit teeth. “Why do you make me do this?”

“Like you said,” Jason grunted, trying to twist out from Bruce. “I like the attention.” His struggles only got him pinned harder. Bruce forced Jason facedown against the concrete, with an arm twisted behind his back. Jason’s helmet was torn off and tossed to the side.

“I never want to hurt you,” Bruce actually sounded choked up about it. “Why do you have to take it too far every time?”

Jason would give anything to see his face, right now.

“Maybe I want you to hurt me,” Jason said. He looked at his hand resting against the concrete, blood still pouring out of the wound the batarang left. it was a bright, pulsing pain that danced across his reality, making his blood sing. He hoped it would scar. Another to add to the collection of ones he’d goaded Bruce into giving him.

“Why?” Bruce’s voice broke on the word. It was an ironic thing. How badly Bruce wanted to show Jason his mercy. His gentle side. And how badly Jason wanted Bruce’s violence. He wanted Bruce to fight Jason until Bruce’s knuckles were bloody and Jason was barely conscious. He wanted to feel Bruce’s violence down to the marrow.

Jason craned his head back to look at Bruce and smiled. “How else am I supposed to learn if you don’t punish me?”

Bruce stared. For a long moment, he was silent. Jason listened to his breathing like a lifeline. “You don’t actually believe that.” his voice was soft and laced with something that sounded dangerously close to concern.

Sentimental bastard.

“No,” Jason admitted. “We both know I’ll never learn.”

To prove his point, Jason grabbed a stray piece of glass from the ground and stabbed it into one of the weak spots on Bruce’s armor. It made Bruce’s grip loosen enough for Jason to roll free and try to kick Bruce in the face.

Bruce wasn’t fighting him. He only blocked Jason’s blows, and even then, let some of them hit. It was like fighting a brick wall. Hard and unrelenting.

It was starting to piss Jason off.

“Don’t be afraid to hurt me now, Bruce,” Jason said through grit teeth, throwing another punch. It sailed uselessly over Bruce’s shoulder when Bruce easily dodged.

“No.” Bruce’s expression was unreadable under his mask. “I’m not playing your game, Jason.”

“Damnit!” Jason could feel his anger threatening to take control. He kicked Bruce hard in the shin, forcing the man to his knees. Jason ripped Bruce’s cowl off. He wasn’t stopped by Bruce. Hard blue eyes stared up at him. Practically emotionless. “I know you hate me. I know you’re itching to rip my head off for…” Jason spread his arms, gesturing to all the bodies. “For this! For everything I’ve done.”

Bruce shook his head, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. “I don’t hate you, Jason. I could never-” He doubled over when Jason’s knee connected with his stomach.

“Well you definitely don’t love me,” Jason snapped, ice dripping from his tone. “If you did… if you loved me, you would let me have this.”

“Killing people?”

“Hurting me,” Jason corrected. He snatched his kris off the floor from where it’d fallen to. He stared at the blade. “I’m sick of your pacificism. I’m sick of you pretending you don’t crave hurting someone and pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I’ve never pretended,” Bruce looked at Jason through careful, hooded eyes. “That want… that need has always been a part of me. I take too much pleasure in hurting people. Pleasure in believing they deserve it.” He studied Jason for a moment. “I never wanted it to consume you the way it consumes me. Because I know it’s something you can’t come back from, once it takes root.”

Jason hated it when Bruce waxed poetic. It was a whole lot of bullshit that meant nothing to Jason. It did nothing to fight the roar of rage building in Jason’s chest.

“Do you want to hurt me?” Jason asked.

He needed Bruce to say yes.

He knew Bruce wouldn’t.

Even if it was the truth. Which now, Jason wasn’t so sure.

Bruce was silent. He didn’t give Jason any answer, not even a change in expression. Bruce just pushed himself to his feet and looked at his cowl that Jason was still holding.

“I love you, Jason,” Bruce said. He grabbed the cowl, but Jason didn’t let go. “I want to help you. Please let me help you in any other way that’s not… this.” Bruce’s thumb brushed over the still bleeding gash on Jason’s hand.

Jason tightened his grip on the cowl. “I’m not giving you the free pass to sleep easy at night,” he hissed. “You can’t take back any of the scars you’ve given me. And we both know sooner or later, there will be new ones.”

Bruce tore the cowl out of Jason’s hand. Before putting it on, he started to reach out for Jason’s face, but seemed to think against it, hand abruptly dropping. He opened his mouth to say something. An apology, probably.

A muffled, crackly voice came from inside the cowl. A police scanner, by the sounds of it. Jason only caught the words bomb threat and hostages.

So much for Bruce’s attention.

“Come with me?” Bruce offered, pulling his cowl on.

Jason shook his head. “You know you don’t want me there.”

“I always want you-” Bruce cut himself off, seeming to realize how dangerously vulnerable his words were. “The offer to come to me will always be open, Jason. You know that.”

Jason’s fist curled and his blood dripped onto the concrete. “Go to hell.”

Like that, the intimacy was gone. Bruce put his emotional mask back on to go with his physical one and turned heel, walking away. Jason just watched him go, some part of him foolishly waiting for Bruce to turn back and say something. Anything. He could get any other hero to handle the bomb threat. He could spare Jason just a few more moments of arguing and fighting. Maybe even something more.

But of course, he didn’t.

[avxlyse]

A/N: Hi guys! I’m fairly new to fic writing and brand new to tumblr (in a sense, I’ve been ON Tumblr since like 2016 but I’ve never really posted), so I’m not really sure what I’m doing tbh. I’ve been writing for awhile but I’ve never really posted anything, so let’s just see how this goes! PS Constructive criticism is welcome! I'd love some tips :)

Han Solo x Reader

Prompt: “Do I have to spell it out for you? I’m in love with you!” + Kissing to hide from someone

The funny thing is, you were probably the best pilot in the rebellion before Han. And you absolutely resented him for it. There were few things you hated more than someone upstaging you, but there was nothing you hated more than them being smug about it. And Han Solo without smug is like Hoth without winter, impossible. So when you found yourself crammed nose to nose in a maintenance closet staring back into that smug, shit eating grin, you came to the conclusion that if you made it out of here alive the first thing you were going to do was rip the wires out of that cocky assholes prize winning ship and shove them down his throat.

The morning was typical, breakfast in the Cafeteria and some training in the Gym, then straight to the meeting that was scheduled for that afternoon. Unfortunately, you never actually made it to that meeting, because half way through your training session the emergency alarm went off. You dropped your practice weapon and turned to run towards the center of the base.

“Damnit!”

You forgot to take off the resistance band tied around your ankle and ate shit on the training room floor. A mocking laugh echoed through the room as you felt firm hands grasp your wrists and pull you up.

“You should really be more careful, we wouldn’t want you to do any damage to that pretty face of yours now would we?”

Han grinned, sarcasm dripping from his tone. You groaned in frustration, face flushing from a wounded ego.

“If you haven’t noticed we’re in a bit of an emergency, so if you could be a little more helpful and untie my leg so that we can make it to the meeting before The Galactic Empire blows up our base that would be great.”

“As you wish, Princess”

He leaned down to pull the band off of your thigh, lingering a beat too long in his particularly flirtatious manner. You shoved ahead of him, tactlessly hiding your blush. You know it meant nothing to him, but that didn't mean it didn't drive you nuts. You just didn't operate like Han. He was so casual. Sometimes it seemed like he couldn't help but charm anyone that walks by, just to prove he could. You're pretty sure he would flirt with a coffee pot if it was wearing mascara, while you, on the other hand, had barely managed to seduce half a dozen people in your lifetime. It was for this reason that Hans nature was so irritating to you. When he first moved to this base, you had assumed he was making a pass at you. It's just that no one had ever been so bold about it. At least not with you, the plain looking girl from Batuu who's hottest feature, in the literal sense, was her perpetually flushed cheeks and sweaty palms. It had barely been a week before you fell hard, giggling like a child every time he made one of his frisky remarks. Bless Leia's heart for being the only person kind enough to burst your bubble. After what must have been a few too many puppy eyed stares, she pulled you aside to tell you Hans' deal. That he was an egotistical bastard who got a kick out of making people fall in love with him just to see if he could. You crashed back down to Earth pretty swiftly after that, and had now spent the better part of a year rolling your eyes every time he entered a room. Now you're stuck being second best to the man who stole your heart and your rank.

By the time you both reached the meeting room, the alarm had stopped and Leia was the only person left there.

“Y/N, Han! There you are. Where were you two?”

“Long story, what’s up?”

“ok...”

Leia raised her eyebrow suspiciously before continuing 

“There’s a Galactic Empire ship flying in our atmosphere. We’re not sure if they got a tip off about our base or if they’re doing a routine scan of the planet, but either way we can’t risk allowing them to continue. We only have one stolen TIE Fighter at this base, which means the rest of the crew will be working from land to shield the base and prepare for battle in case we’re spotted-“

“Great, where do you need me?” You interjected.

“I was actually hoping you and Han could fly the TIE fighter...”

“Oh?” You questioned, a bit shocked.

She eyed you with a sympathetic look, the two of you still close enough for her to be well aware of how you feel about Han.

“I don't need to tell either of you that you're the best pilots we have on site, and we need this mission to succeed. We can’t risk sending anything but our best, I’m counting on you two to destroy the ship by sabotaging the main engine.”

“Just tell me where to fire and that ship’ll be out of the sky before it can get within 100 miles of our base.” Han said, rearing for battle.

“Not so fast”

Leia sighed, clearly not willing to deal with Hans' rash nature at this exact moment. 

“There’s a reason I’m squeezing Y/N into a single-pilot TIE with you, Han. You need someone who actually thinks rationally, this is too much of a risky situation for you to just go in there and fire at will like you usually would. You need to be calculated and precise, which is why you’ll both be undercover.”

“Hey! I’m calculated and precise...” Han frowned.

You gritted your teeth and turned back to Leia.

“Where’s the engine?”

“It’s on the north end of the ship, right next to the escape pod, you can’t miss it. A few hits should do the trick, especially since we’re using a stolen Empire ship with stronger blasters. By the time they realize you two are there they’ll already be toast. Here are your Uniforms, just in case anything goes south and you have to come face to face with Galactic Empire soldiers.”

You nod and take the uniform out of Leia’s hand, two Stormtrooper suits probably taken off of the soldiers from the stolen TIE fighter.

“Be careful, they’ll be on high alert if a ship just flies at top speed towards their engines. Don’t be suspicious.”

Han scoffed,

“Yeah, great advice ‘Don’t be suspicious’. And how are we supposed to do that? A random TIE fighter that’s probably already been reported as stolen flying up to the ship during what seems like a routine check? How are we going to be sure they don’t stop us immediately and blow us out of the sky?”

Leia took a deep, patient breath,

“You really have no faith in me, do you. We’ve been monitoring the ship and can see that there are TIE fighters flying in and out. Just follow the path that the rest of them are taking to avoid standing out. We know the ship hasn’t been reported as stolen because when it crashed the pilot died, so there was no one to alert them when we recovered it. We don’t have much time, I just need you to trust me. Put on the uniforms, fly in if you have to, but fly out and destroy the engine. It’s our only chance.”

A grim look passed over your face, this mission was risky, and you knew if she was going to put the two of you together it really was her only option. Things could very easily go south and if worse comes to worse her best pilots would have the closest shot at getting out of there alive. You turned to Han and realized he must’ve gotten the message, because for once in his life he didn't have anything witty to say back. He just nodded and went to change into the stolen uniform

You turned back to Leia and took a deep breath before wrapping your arms around her. She returned the hug before pulling back and putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Just, please make it back, ok?”

You smiled “I will. I might leave Han on the ship though, he’s already starting to get on my nerves.”

Leia laughed “As much as he’s a pain in our asses, he’s one of our best. Try to keep him in line for me, you know how he gets...”

You chuckled, “Yeah, I will. See you later, okay?”

“Yeah, see you later.”

You walked off to go change before meeting Han at the ship.

...

By the time you squeezed into the stolen uniform Han was already in the pilot seat of the TIE. You truly wish you had the energy to argue about it, but there wasn't enough time to be petty. He was a better pilot, plain and simple, and your pride wouldn't change that. You also wouldn't change anything by slamming on a non-existent brake pedal as he took off with an all too aggressive jolt, but that certainly didn't stop the instinct.

"Can you slow down?" You snapped, tension seeping into your shoulders. "We're supposed to be blending in, and your narcissistic flying style gives you away to literally anyone who has ever seen you pilot."

"'Narcissistic flying style'?" Han scoffs "What does that even mean?"

"I don't know, shut up." You blushed, doing your best to avoid his gaze.

"You've got to get better at that, you know"

"At what?"

"Being mean. It doesn't suit you"

"Unless you want to figure out how well my foot suits your ass, I suggest you just shut up and fly"

He lets out a warm chuckle, laughing through his response -

"See what I mean? It just sounds weird coming out of your mouth. It's like a youngling swearing for the first time. To much bite, it's not natural yet"

"Well if you're so sure it's unnatural to me maybe I should take notes from you, you seem to have no problem being an asshole."

This one came out with a real bite, he's pissed you off now.

"And what does it matter? Maybe it's not natural to me because you're the only person who makes me feel like saying rude shit. Now what does come natural to me is flying, and maybe if you weren't so focused on how things sounded coming out of my mouth you'd have noticed the TIEs flying on either side of us."

"Oh shit!" He exclaimed, caught off guard for once.

"We're going to have to land on the ship."

"what? why?"

"We don't have access to their channels of communication and we're going to have to explain what the hell we're doing flying off Crait. If we start flying towards the reactor now they'll just gun us down. We can pretend to be the soldiers that crashed on this ship, explain that we were only missing because the engine failed and we needed time to repair it. The communicator broke in the crash, and that's why we haven't called for help, got it?"

"Got it, captain" He said, with an impressed lilt in his voice.

You smiled, tallying this as a win against him. If it was impressive to him that someone could come up with a plan that wasn’t whatever made the most explosions, then so be it. He’d just better be prepared to be impressed for the next few hours.

As Han flew the TIE into the landing bay, it became increasingly clear that this was going to take more convincing on your part than you were prepared for. The two TIEs guarding either side of you followed you into the port, and a group of high ranking soldiers began to gather where your ship was landing. You shot Han a concerned glance before remembering it was useless through your helmet. He seemed to get the message anyways, giving you a short nod in response. You just hoped that meant he was taking this as seriously as you were and wasn't planning on doing anything rash. 

The both of you slowly stepped out of the TIE, unsure of what the soldiers around you were planning. You tensed as a burly looking man approached, eyeing the both of you suspiciously-

“CF-0065, TZ-1764. It’s been quite some time since we’ve heard from you. Your vessels had been reported missing and it was our assumption that you had crashed or been captured. Explain what has kept you from reporting to your posts immediately.” 

He snapped, authority evident in his voice. You decided to cut in before Han could say something stupid-

“Yes, sir. Our vessels crashed on Crait, and we have spent the time in between now and then repairing the engine of the more salvageable ship. We were able to get it functioning yesterday, and we're working on getting the communication systems functioning next. We spotted your ship flying over and hoped to explain ourselves and have aid in fully repairing the TIE.”

“Ah, yes, well I’m glad you were able to recover your vessel and return to work. We could use the extras hands on board.”

“What exactly is the mission of this vessel?” Han chimed in. “We’d like to help in whatever way best suits our skills.” He added, nonchalantly.

The man, who you had now gathered to be the chief officer, began to walk. The two of you followed, doing your best impression of the mindless soldiers surrounding you.

“Well, we were sent to a maintenance level scan of this star system, but have since detected some suspicious activity on this planet in particular.”

 Your shoulders immediately tensed, and you shot a sideways glance at Han. 

“We would like to get a more comprehensive idea of the situation before moving forward, so as of now we have not reported anything to the other fleets in the area. We’d prefer not to alert the planet of our suspicions yet, and give them the least time to prepare if we decide to strike.”

You silently thanked the stars that they haven’t allerted anyone else of their suspicions. You know Han did too, it’s going to make what you have to do here a whole lot easier without an entire fleet against you.

"Well, we’re both especially skilled in repair and maintenance,” Han jutted in, “so if you could point us towards the engine room we would be happy to make sure everything is working in order while you further investigate the planet.”

It was a risky move, and the general eyed you suspiciously.

“The both of us were able to repair a damaged TIE fighter engine with nothing but the materials we were able to trade for on Crait, if you have any issues we’d be happy to help.” You added, hoping it would convince him.

“Actually,” he conceded, “I have been concerned about the operation system in one of  our navigation ports. We’ve been having quite a few rough takeoffs recently. I was going to wait until we landed to get it looked at, but since the two of you clearly possess enough skill to repair that TIE I’d rather you just take a look at it now.” 

He led the two of you down a series of long, winding hallways, which you did your best to memorize if a quick escape became necessary. The room he brought you to was a small one, with about a hundred buttons you barely recognized. You may be an experienced pilot, but Empire technology was something else entirely. You just hoped the general wasn’t planning on staying, or you and Han would have to put on a pretty convincing performance.

“So,” Han coughed, “what seems to be the matter?”

“Well since you two are such experienced mechanics, shouldn't you be the ones telling me?” The general questioned suspiciously.

“Of course, Sir,” You turned, praying to god that you could make some sense of this mess in time to keep your cover. “It looks like-”

A loud thud echoed behind you and you whipped around to see Han standing over the unconscious general. He just shrugged, turning to replace the wrench he pried off the wall to club him with.

“Han!” You whisper-shouted, trying not to alert more people than he probably just did by being his typical, impulsive self.

“What? He replied, “He was totally on to us and It was more trouble than it's worth to try and convince him we know anything about Empire tech.”

“Right, so you decided braining him with a wrench was the next best option?”

“We don’t have time for this, Y/N. At this point we’re going to have to sabotage the reactor from the inside, which might take more effort than we anticipated.”

“And what are we supposed to do with him?” You both eyed the unconscious general, and Han shifted his gaze to a utility closet in the corner.

A few good thunks with the wrench for extra measure later, the both of you began to fold, shove, and contort the general into a crate in the navigation room closet. You had taken your helmets off, sweating uncomfortably with the effort it took to lift the fairly bulky man across the room. You wiped your forehead, staring at the now properly concealed general, and shot a concerned glance at Han, 

“How long do you think it’ll take before they notice he’s gone?” 

“I think we’ve got some time,” He said, reaching for his helmet.

It was at that moment that the doorknob began to jiggle, and in a blur of movement Han had you up against the wall with his lips on yours. It didn’t even register at first, shock and adrenaline coursing through your veins hard enough to freeze you completely.You weren’t exactly sure what the rules were in The Galactic Empire about soldiers kissing, but you had a feeling the punishment for being caught would be less severe than killing a high ranking general. Plus, this was probably the easiest way to hide both of your helmetless faces, yours may not be recognizable, but his certainly is. It took a second before you began to kiss him back, but by the time you let yourself reciprocate, you heard the door click shut and Han pulled away. You kicked yourself and your neurotic brain for running through all of the possible plans of action before you even got the chance to soak it in. You’d dreamed of this so many times, and in so many ways, and the one time it’ll probably ever happen you let it get away from you. As you looked back up at Han, he was stuck with the same searching look you couldn’t wipe off your face. You stared back at him for a second, trying to gauge his reaction.

Han butted in, cutting right through your thoughts. “Maybe we should do that again. You know, just in case they come back.” He said, dazed.

“Yeah…” You muttered, “Yeah that might be best.”

His lips crashed back into yours, and you kissed him with a renewed sense of purpose. Han kissed with a passion you had never felt before. With everyone else it had been awkward and fumbling, but the two of you seemed to fit together so naturally. You took a metal note of every part of him, from the rough feeling of his lips to the bold flick of his tongue. You tried to memorize everything you loved about this, because you knew it was never going to happen again. You’re sure you were going to torture yourself with this moment forever, so you might as well remember it as clearly as possible. The way his hands grazed your waist, not grabbing, but just hovering above your hips with a feather-like touch as if he was afraid you were going to burn him. How his adams apple bobbed when you kissed his neck, swallowing hard out of desperation. The way his hands felt in your hair, not tugging, but carding through it with a sort of reverence. He pulled away too soon, tearing you out of your blissful analysis of his body and back into the present tense. 

“We can’t keep doing that,” He said, panting.

“Yeah, I think we’re in the clear and we need to find the reactor” You replied, trying your best to hide how it stung and moving towards your helmet.

“No.” Han put both his hands on your shoulder, holding you in place, “No, we can’t keep doing that because if we do I will want to do it again.”

“What?” You paused, shocked.

“You know what I mean, Y/N, don’t make me say it out loud.”

You stared back at him blankly, truly at a loss for words.

“Jesus Y/N, Do I have to spell it out for you? I’m in love with you!”

“What?” Seemed to be the only word your brain could muster in this moment. You felt as though your whole world view was crashing around you, as though the very ground beneath you was shaking… On second thought, the ground might actually be shaking, because judging by Hans face you weren't the only one feeling the rumbling beneath you.

“We’ll deal with this later.” He shot you a look before grabbing his helmet and running out the door, following quickly after to discover what was the matter. 

It became clear as you walked that the ship was preparing for takeoff, but you weren’t sure why. Your nerves were on fire, and you know you’ve wasted too much time to get it wrong now.

“That general sure wasn’t kidding when he said their takeoffs were rough. We need to get to the reactor before they can get the ship up and running or we’re screwed.” Han said, eyeing you nervously.

“Do you think if we go back to the landing bay we can tell them we have orders to go back to Crait and investigate some of the suspicious activity we saw on-world? If we take a nicer ship than the TIE we came in we won't have to worry about the blasters not being strong enough to take down the ship.” You replied, already in go-mode.

“Sounds like a great plan,” Han said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “except how the hell are we supposed to find our way back to the landing bay with no map of the ship?”

“Just trust me.” You said, grabbing his arm and leading him down the hall. Your freakish memory is good for more than memorizing Hans lips, and you were able to bring the two of you back exactly the way you came. You strode up to the nearest pilot you could find, and with the confidence of somebody who has no other choice, demands he give the two of you access to an ST-70 Assault Ship. 

“For what purpose?” He responds, taken aback by your assertiveness.

“We are the two soldiers who we’re just recovered from Crait, and were ordered back down there to investigate suspicious activity on the planet. We don’t have time for this, just give us the vessel.” Han repeated what you had planned to the pilot, striding towards the ST-70. 

“I haven’t been told of such an order, the two of you are going to need to wait until I receive the command from higher up to authorize use of this vessel.” The pilot replies sharply.

“We’ve already been held up by engine maintenance,” You added, not exactly sure where this was going but hoping you found something convincing to say in the midst of your rambling, “and spent much of that time relaying to a general on this ship the reason for our brief disappearance. We are part of a high clearance mission to uncover rebel activity on the planet Crait, and are close to infiltrating one of the largest branches of their military. We came here to dismiss your vessel, as we were worried your presence would alert the Rebel Alliance of our presence on the planet.”

Han joined in, stepping up to the unarmed pilot with his intimidating stature. 

“If you don’t hand over this vessel, the failure of a months-long plan to eliminate one of the largest branches of the Rebel Alliance will be on your head. Whatever you think we might do with this ship that is ‘unauthorized’ cannot possibly have consequences as dire for you as that will.” Han rolled his shoulders back, taking one more menacing step forward.

The pilot stepped aside, granting you and Han access to the ST-70. If the two of you make it out of here, you would have to be permanently assigned as partners for missions like these. You have never felt more invigorated or on your game than when you were with Han, the idea of the word ‘partners in crime’ finally settling in your skin. You weren’t out of the woods yet though, and as Han began to start the ships engines, a very rumpled looking general marched into the landing bay.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. “Go, Han, Go, go, go go GO!”

“I hear you Y/N!” Han shouted back, kicking the ship into overdrive and jolting you violently into space.

 You got a few feet out from the ship before three TIE fighters started tailing you, and Han took a sharp left before nose-diving under the belly of the ship. You whipped around to the laser cannons, doing you best to aim as Han whipped the ship around to try and find the main engine. Just as you took one TIE out, two more appeared.

“Do you have eyes on the engine Han?” You shouted, limbs tingling as you shot down two more TIE fighters.

“Got it!” He yelled back, and you swiveled to face the ship's surface as he flew at top speed towards the engine.

You began to count down, preparing Han to nose dive the second you blasted this thing out of the sky.

“Three… two.. One!” You fired directly at the engine, and your stomach did somersaults as Han dodged the blast.  

“Yes!” He screamed, and you laughed with manic joy as you felt relief wash over you. 

The TIE fighters following you weren’t prepared to dodge the blast, and the two of you watched joyfully as they went down with the ship. You barreled towards Crait, with more than just a successful mission to show for it. The two of you had just destroyed a high ranking Empire ship, and come back with an ST-70 Razor Crest M-11 ship as your bounty. Han landed the ship and ripped off his helmet, smiling from ear to ear. The excitement was electric, making its way through every limb and out your fingers to charge the atmosphere around you. You turned to Han and before you knew it you were crashing your lips into his, desperate for an outlet. He kissed you back with double the vigor of the last time, and seemed to be determined to explore every inch of you. Your mouth, your waist, your hair, your thighs, he groped and fumbled at all of you as you pushed back with just as much energy. Kissing Han felt like, for lack of better word, winning. Winning your first race as a newly vetted pilot, winning a mission against the empire, winning the man you thought wanted nothing to do with you and you thought you wanted nothing to do with. You laughed into the kiss as he bit your lip, giddy with an amount of energy you didn’t know how to control. 

“What?” He said, sporting that smug grin you always wanted to slap off of his face.

“Nothing,” you replied, deciding firmly that kissing it off was the better option. “I’ve just been so in love with you forever and can’t believe this is happening.”

FIN.

[ironychan]

Scary Monsters

@dysphoria-sweatshirt @30spiders @sweatersexual @angrylittlesliceofpizza

Part 1/? - Rocco’s Closet

Part 2/? - School for Monsters

Part 3/? - The Waternoose Family

Part 4/? - The Terrifying Humans

Part 5/? - Hiding Places

Part 6/? - Nobody’s Fault

Part 7/? - Edge of Disaster

Part 8/? - Caged Monsters

The Waternooses had not come alone. Behind them were at least a dozen people in the head-to-toe yellow suits of the exterminators, and none of them were as small as the tiny one Luca and Alberto had seen in the bathroom. Any one of them was big enough to lift the boys or Curtis right off the floor, and a couple looked ready even to take on Sullivan.

Sullivan placed his formidable bulk between the boys and the approaching exterminators, and roared like a tiger in a cage or an angry elephant seal. He rushed at the oncoming exterminators, and five or six of the yellow-suited figures immediately dogpiled him. For a moment Luca could only watch the fight, transfixed. This was not supposed to happen! They'd tried to plan this so that Sullivan wouldn't get in trouble, and now it looked like he was going to get in more trouble than any of them! What had happened to Louise? Had she gotten out of the factory okay? Because if they caught her in here after she'd already been fired...

A clawed appendage came down on Luca's shoulder, and he shrieked in terror and grabbed Alberto – but it was only Curtis.

“Come on, he'll hold them off, let's go!” Curtis urged.

Luca tore himself away, and he and Alberto ran after Curtis, who went straight for the nearest emergency exit and wrenched the door open. An alarm began to blare and sunshine flooded in, only to be eclipsed by the hulking shape of yet another exterminator. The boys and Curtis scrambled to a halt as this figure ducked through the door, having to bow each of its three heads in turn in order to fit. When they turned to run the other way, an exterminator with a tiny body slung between many long, spider-like legs had stepped into their way.

One of these legs darted out, and the pincer on the end grabbed Luca by the shirt and lifted him off the ground. Then it dashed him onto the metal floor, and two smaller exterminators pinned him down and put cold metal shackles around his wrists. A moment later, Alberto was beside him, also chained up, and then Curtis. A set of keys jangled as they fell out of his fur and tumbled across the floor to land at the feet of a knobby creature with a club on the end of its tail.

This individual, who was wearing a tie, bent down and picked the keys up, examined them for a moment, then scowled.

“Liebermann! So you're the one who keeps taking my keys!” it shouted.

“No! No! I swear, today was the fir...” Curtis began, but an exterminator put a hand over his mouth, shutting him up.

The group fighting Sullivan had him on his knees, and it looked like he would soon be on the floor with the rest of them. Then he seemed to get a second wind. With a snarl, he shoved off the three-headed exterminator, which had been trying to shackle him, and got to his feet. Three-heads staggered backwards and fell against Rocco's door, knocking it out of the clamps holding it.

“Oh, no!” Luca exclaimed, before an exterminator pushed his face against he floor again.

Sullivan knew they needed that door. He moved forwards to see it if it were damaged, but the others exterminators grabbed him from behind. This time, one of them pressed some small object against his neck, which seemed to cause him a lot of pain. Sullivan hollered and his fur fluffed out like a frightened cat's, then he went limp, and the exterminators were able to get big shackles around his wrists and ankles.

At last, all four of them were on the floor, and all that could be heard was the heavy breathing of the exterminators in their suits.

“Mr. Borisov!” said Curtis. “I promise you, everybody borrows your keys! It's not just me!”

The knobbly creature looked around the room. “Do they really?” he asked, suspicious.

“No!” said the nearest monster.

“Never!” another agreed, holding up all three hands.

“I told Lieberman to stop doing it!” a third chimed in.

“Oh, come on, guys!” said Curtis.

The three-headed creature had gotten up, and it picked up Rocco's door. The door looked rather bent, with splinters coming off one edge of it. Luca swallowed. Would it still work?

“Get rid of that,” Waternoose ordered. “Everybody, no need to panic. The incursion is handled. You can go back to work. Sawyer will be around with nondisclosure agreements for all of you to sign.”

The three-headed exterminator crumpled the door like it was wringing out a wet cloth. The knob fell out, and rolled in a circle on the floor.

Harry scuttled forward with a big smile on his face. “You see, Dad?” he asked. “I told you they'd come back! I told you they needed the door!”

Waternoose ignored his son, and put his fists on his hips to look the four prisoners over critically. “Now,” he said, “what are we going to do with you? The two boys from the human world I would have just killed, but now we've got Liebermann and Sullivan involved, and if they vanish they'll be missed. Shame about Sullivan. Your teachers absolutely raved about you, you know that?”

Sullivan scowled.

“Dad,” Harry insisted. “Dad, I was right, wasn't I? Wasn't I right?”

“You pipe down,” Waternoose told him.

“But I told you that...”

“Shut up!” Waternoose barked. “If you hadn't let them escape from the factory in the first place, we could have handled this days ago and we wouldn't have had all this bad press! Next time, think a little before you go running around trying to be clever!”

Harry stared at him, shocked and frightened.

All around them, other employees were very slowly moving to get things set up again and return to work, but almost all were still watching this spectacle going on in the middle of the room. Waternoose looked around and glared at people.

“What are you all staring at?” he demanded. “Let's see some work. The city needs power!” he punched his palm. “For now, we'll just find somewhere to put these four, and deal with them later.”

The exterminators picked up Alberto, Luca, and Curtis bodily off the ground. The one who had Luca and Alberto carried one boy under each arm, while a second, smaller individual slung Curtis over his shoulder like a sack of flour Three people dragged Sullivan to his feet, and he had to shuffle along with his ankles still shackled as they dragged him out of the room following Waternoose.

Harry scuttled beside his father, nervous, but eventually he got up his courage again. “Dad,” he said, “I know I screwed up, but I fixed it, right? I told you...”

“Oh, give it a rest, Harry!” groaned Alberto. “Your Dad is never going to be proud of you!”

“Nobody asked you!” Harry told him. “That's not even true. Dad's proud of me. Right, Dad?”

“Go home, Harry,” said Waternoose grimly.

“Tell them you're proud of me!” Harry insisted, an edge of desperation in his voice.

“I'll be proud of you when you do something worth being proud of!” snapped Waternoose. “I've been waiting eleven years! Now go home. Your mother and I will discuss your punishment this evening.”

Harry stopped. A few seconds went by while he just stood in the middle of the hallway while his father, the exterminators, and the prisoners got further and further ahead. Then he turned and ran.

Luca sniffled. The corners of his eyes were getting sticky from tears he couldn't quite keep in, and he couldn't brush them away or wipe his nose with his hands locked up behind his back. “You shouldn't have said that,” he told Alberto.

“Yeah, I should,” Alberto replied. “It's true.”

Luca supposed that when it came to Dads who were never happy, Alberto was the one to know.

Waternoose led them through a maze of hallways and down a flight of stairs. Luca wasn't sure if all the twists and turns were necessary or if this were just to confuse them in case they escaped. When they arrived at their destination, however, he decided it had to be the former, because there was no way they were going to escape from here. The basement room they'd been brought to had pipes and wires in the ceiling, and bare concrete on the walls and floors. The floor sloped down to a drain in the back corner, but it was only about ten centimetres square, too small for any but the tiniest of monsters to crawl through. Anyway, the big cage in the middle of the room was metres away from it. The bars were an inch thick.

With a chill, Luca realized this had been here for a long time. It hadn't been built for them, it had been built for something else, possibly much worse. Luca wondered who or what that had been.

They were thrown in one by one. The cage was about as big as an elevator car, and while the elevators here were fairly large, being built to accommodate larger monsters, with Sullivan in there it was still a bit of a squeeze. The door shut with a very final-sounding thunk.

“I'll have to mull this over,” said Waternoose. “Write some nice letters to the Sullivan and Liebermann families and tell them how sorry I am about the tragic accident. You two walked right into a slumber party and were overcome by the pack.”

“Why don't you just send us home?” Luca asked.

The others all turned their heads to look at him.

“What?” asked Curtis.

“Why would he do that?” Alberto wanted to know.

“Because he's worried we'll tell everybody that humans aren't dangerous,” Luca pointed out. “If we go back to our world, we won't be able to do that, and we certainly never want to come back here! You can send Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Liebermann with us, so they can't tell anyone, either. You can think of it as...” what was it the ancient Greeks had used to do? He'd read about it in a book, which had used a specific word for when they made somebody leave a city forever. Luca couldn't remember it, so he substituted a similar one. “Banishment! You can banish us!”

His heart beat hard as he watched Waternoose. It probably wouldn't work, but maybe, just maybe, if the big monster could be made to think of it as a solution rather than another problem...

Waternoose snorted. “Send you back to tell the humans that monsters aren't dangerous? I don't think so. Besides, Liebermann knows the door schedules. He'd be back on the next available shift.”

With that, Waternoose and the exterminators left. The lights went out behind them, leaving only a red 'exit' sign above the door. Luca and Alberto could see each other's eyes shining by this feeble illumination. Sullivan's eyes turned out to be similarly reflective, but Curtis' were not. Another book had taught Luca that this was caused by a layer in the back of the eye which reflected light so that creatures like cats, owls, or sea monsters could see in the dark. Apparently only some of the closet monsters could do that.

“I'm sorry,” said Luca, into the oppressive silence left by the shutting of the door. “I didn't really think that was going to work, but I had to try.”

Alberto's shackles jingled as he shrugged. “I mean, you're the idea man.”

“What would we do in the human world, anyway?” Curtis asked.

“We'd find something for you,” Luca promised. “We talked about it with Louise. It'd be the same for you. People in Portorosso don't mind sea monsters, so they could get used to you, too.”

Sullivan just groaned. “My parents are going to be so disappointed,” he said.

“You're worried about your parents?” Curtis asked. “I mean, I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he's going to murder all four of us.”

“They were proud of me! Valedictorian of the scare class, with job offers right out of school,” Sullivan said. “I almost didn't talk them out of coming to see me on my first day. I would have died of embarrassment. They're probably wondering why I haven't called yet. I told them I'd phone at lunch every day.”

“Are they gonna be mad?” Luca asked.

“No,” sighed Sullivan. “Like I said, just disappointed.”

Luca nodded. “That's worse.”

“I hope Louise got out okay,” said Curtis.

“Yeah, me too,” Luca sniffled, then perked up a bit, a tiny fire of hope lighting up in his chest. Maybe... maybe Louise could help them. If she were hiding somewhere in the factory and realized they weren't coming back, she could come looking for them. Louise was almost as huge and strong as Sullivan. If she could take the exterminators by surprise, it might just work!

About half an hour later, another group of exterminators came in, dragging Louise. Obviously she had fought – she had a black eye, and one of the exterminators had a sleeve torn off his yellow suit. They stuffed her in the cage with the rest of them, making things even more crowded, and then left once again.

“Ma'am?” Luca asked cautiously.

“Are you okay, Louise?” Curtis wanted to know.

“I'll live,” she grumbled.

“What happened?” asked Luca.

“Maureen smuggled me down into the garbage room and told me I could hide out there,” Louise told them. “Then the exterminators came looking for me and I had nowhere to go.”

Luca hung his head. “I'm sorry.”

By the red light of the exit sign, he could see Louise's resigned smile. “What did I tell you about being sorry? It's not your fault.”

“It's gotta be somebody's fault,” Luca pointed out.

“Then it's Mr. Waternoose's fault,” Alberto decided. “He's the one who made a big deal out of things. If not for him we could have just gone home.”

There was another long silence then. The one red light in the room kept it from being totally dark, but there were no clocks or even windows to give an indication of time passing. Curtis had been wearing a watch, but he couldn't look at it with his hands locked up behind his back. It seemed like all they could do was sit there, and they didn't even know how long it had been.

Alberto was the first to fall asleep. Sullivan was second, and snorted a bit. Luca decided he might as well shut his own eyes, and leaned against Louise to use her as a pillow. He hoped she wouldn't mind, and it didn't seem like she did – when he woke briefly a little later, he found that she was asleep, too. At least with all these bodies in the small space of the cage, it wasn't cold in here, and leaning on Louise was something like having a dog or cat in bed with him, warm and furry and reassuring. Luca settled down again.

The next time he woke up, he heard a jingling sound.

For a moment he couldn't think what it was, although he knew it was familiar. Then he realized it was the sound of keys. Keys meant somebody was coming in, and somebody coming in might mean Waternoose had decided what to do with them. Suddenly wide awake, Luca sat up and shook Alberto.

“Wake up! Somebody's coming!” he hissed.

“Huh?” asked Curtis, on the other side of Louise, then seemed to hear the noise himself. “Oh, no.”

All five of them were awake by the time the door began to open. Sullivan and Louise both stood, awkwardly with their legs still shackled but determined to meet this with whatever show of force they could. Luca, Alberto, and Curtis stayed behind them, but peeked between and around the larger monsters to see what was going on.

The jingling went on as if somebody was trying to find the right key by trying each of several in turn. Then the door creaked open, and several eyes, glowing pink, seemed to check the room out before their owner entered. This small, roundish figure scuttled across the floor towards them, and Luca and Alberto recognized the motion at once. It was Harry.

“What are you doing here?” Alberto hissed at him.

Harry came closer, but stayed just far enough from the bars that nobody inside the cage could reach him. “You said your Dad was terrible, so you left him and found a new Dad,” he said to Alberto.

“Yeah, I did,” Alberto replied cautiously.

“So we got home and he just yelled at me a bunch more, and then him and Mom had a big fight and he called me a disgrace to the family. And I realized you were right, he's never gonna be proud. So now I'm gonna go find a better Dad in the human world, like you did.”

Luca had a feeling that wasn't going to work, but he didn't say so. It would have been nice if Harry's Dad had loved him, but right now they just needed to go home and keep the people who'd helped them out of trouble. When he glanced up at the adults he found them looking skeptical, but none of them said anything, either.

“How are we gonna get there?” Alberto asked. “They broke Rocco's door.”

“All doors lead to the human world,” said Harry. “We'll just pick one.”

Louise's shackles clanked as she tried to gesture, but couldn't. “The one I found you in was fourth shift. I think it was section...” she frowned and looked at Curtis.

“A-113!” he said. “If we can find another door from that sector, it ought to be close.”

Luca and Alberto weren't too sure about that. “How big is sector A-113?” Luca asked.

The monsters didn't seem to care. Harry found the right key and opened the door, and then started opening the shackles as the prisoners crawled out one by one. Luca's arms and legs were stiff after being kept in one position for so long, and he had to shake and stomp to get the feeling back into his fingers and toes. Once everyone was free, Harry cracked the door open and peeked outside.

“There's a lot of exterminators wandering around the factory,” Harry told them. “Just checking up on things. So we'll have to be really quiet.”

“Got it,” Alberto promised.

They crept out into the hall and Harry turned left, which turned out to take them to the elevators. These, however, could not be used. There was an exterminator, in his full suit, sitting between the two sets of elevator doors and reading a magazine with a furry monster in a swimsuit on the cover and a tagline promising two, three – even five beautiful faces! Luca remembered how Marie and Jeanette at the school had interacted, and wondered if a monster with five heads had even more trouble agreeing on things. It would be like having four siblings you couldn't get away from.

Harry chose another direction, and they found their way to a set of stairs. Everybody moved softly on all fours to make as little noise as possible as they climbed. The numbers painted on the wall told them when they reached the ground floor. Curtis cracked the door open, then froze as another exterminator walked, by, whistling. Everybody held their breath, but it didn't seem to see them.

“Okay,” Curtis whispered. “I know where we are now. The door warehouse is this way.”

He took the lead now, escorting the others through the grid of hallways that all looked the same as far as Luca and Alberto could tell. If they heard anyone coming, they would duck into a washroom or down a side hall and let the exterminator or security guard pass. Luca thought he might die of sheer anxiety as they passed through one close call after another, but they finally made it to a set of doors marked warehouse. Maybe they'd used up all their bad luck that morning. Maybe they were going to make it after all.

The doors were, of course, locked.

“All right,” said Curtis. “I guess I'm gonna go get Borisov's keys again. Man, he's gonna kill me.” He sighed. “We'll need a scream canister too, to activate the door.”

“He won't kill you,” said Alberto. “You'll be safe in the human world.” He and Luca were both sure that, if nothing else, the monsters wouldn't follow them there.

“I don't know if I like that any better,” Curtis said, mostly to himself. He slipped away into the dark halls.

It seemed to take a very long time for him to come back, but at least this time there was a clock. It was hung on the wall over the warehouse doors, and showed that it was just after eleven at night. The hands crawled around the face again and again for five minutes, then ten, then fifteen. Finally, after a very slow and nerve-wracking twenty-five minutes, Curtis came back looking apologetic. He was carrying one of the yellow canisters, with a gauge on the side indicating it had a little bit left in the bottom, but there was no sign of keys.

“I can't find them in any of the usual spots,” he said. “I think he must've taken them home or hidden them after he yelled at me earlier, and I don't want to make too much noise by searching for them.”

Sullivan pointed a thumb at the door. “Is this alarmed?”

“Of course it is,” said Curtis. “Closet doors are dangerous. In the wrong hands...”

“Then we'll move fast,” Sullivan interrupted, and slammed his shoulder into the door.

The first blow bent it, but did not break it. Sullivan backed up and did it again. This time, the doors bowed inwards, opening a crack to show the darkness within. An alarm began blaring. The third time, Louise joined in, and the doors flew open, the hinges screaming as they were torn from the wall. More alarms started to wail, and the lights began to flash red.

“Follow me,” Curtis ordered, and dashed in.

Luca, Alberto, and Harry ran after him, with Louise and Sullivan bringing up the rear. The pulsing red lights that went with the alarm made everyone seem to be moving in jerks, and Luca was having trouble seeing where anything was, but Curtis knew the way. He turned right into the A section, and ran down an aisle with doors hung from railings on either side, like shirts in a shop. The numbers above the rails started at A-001, and Luca's heart sank thinking how far they would have to go.

“Second floor!” Curtis said, hurrying up a flight of stairs onto a metal walkway. The numbers at the bottom had been at A-010, but on this level they were at A-110, and Luca felt a little better. Once they'd all reached the top, Sullivan ripped the stairs from the bolts holding them to the walkway, and tossed them to the floor so that anybody following would have to find another way up.

They made it to number 113, and there they paused. It was just one line of doors out of the thousands that were in here, but there were still hundreds of them on the rail. They had no idea where any particular one might take them.

Shouting voices and running footsteps could be heard below. They had to find one.

“Which one?” asked Louise.

Curtis flipped through them. “I don't know. Kids, you got any input?”

Luca followed him down the side walkway, but all the doors looked the same. It looked like they would just have to choose randomly before they ran out of time, and deal with wherever they ended up.

Then something caught Luca's eye. “Stop!” he told Curtis. “That one!”

Louise took the door down from its hook, and Luca grinned at the sight of it.

“That's Dorotea's door from school!” said Luca. “Giulia and I did a group project at her house once. She said she drew on it with crayon when she was little.” The stick figures of herself and her dogs that she'd scribbled years ago had been party worn away, but were still identifiable. Exactly as Luca remembered it.

The monsters didn't have time to ask questions. They leaned the door against the walkway railings, and Curtis counted down from three before opening the scream canister at the same time as Louise turned the knob. The sound of a child screaming, distant and tinny from being stored in the can, echoed through the warehouse. Lights flickered above doors that were still on the railings, and Louise opened the door. The other side was almost too bright to look at in the dark warehouse.

“Get in there!” Louise pushed Luca and Alberto in, and Harry after them.

Passing through was a little odd, because of the door leaning at an angle. Louise dropped Luca in as if he were going to fall all the way, but after passing through he suddenly found himself going up before dropping again and landing on the floor with a thump. A moment later Alberto was landing next to him, and they rolled out of the way to make room for the larger monsters as Harry came through.

Harry turned around, and slammed the door.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Luca asked.

“We're almost out of scream anyway,” Harry told him. “They're too big, the humans will be too scared of them.”

“They helped us! We have to help them!” Luca took the knob while Alberto pushed Harry out of the way, but when they wrenched the door open again, there was nothing on the other side but Dorotea's closet. She'd stuffed a bunch of clothes and toys into it so her parents would think she'd cleaned her room. A couple of these fell out, including a round object that Harry scooped up and looked at.

It was a doll's head. The eyes opened when he held it upright, prompting him to scream and throw it across the room.

“What's wrong with you, stupido?” Alberto demanded, clearly taking some pleasure in using the phrase for its intended purpose. “It's just a toy!”

Then the other door opened. All three turned to see, and found Dorotea's mother, a woman with short dark curls, wearing a polka-dot blouse, standing in bedroom door staring at them. It was hard to say whether she'd noticed Alberto or Luca. Her eyes were fixed on Harry. She stared for half a second, then pulled the door shut with a bang and they heard her footsteps running down the stairs.

“Oh, no,” said Luca, and ran to follow her.

Behind him, he could hear Harry shouting at Alberto: “don't close the door! Prop it open!” he was saying. “They can't activate a door if it's open on this end!”

“Signora Molinari!” Luca called out, hurrying down the steps. He followed the woman into the kitchen, where she pulled a telephone book out of a drawer and began madly flipping the pages. Luca ran up on the other side of the counter and put his hands on the book to make her stop. “Signora Molinari, it's me, Luca!” he said. “I go to school with Dorotea, remember?”

She stopped short, staring at him. “Luca? What are you doing here? Don't you and Giulia go home in the summer?”

“We need help,” said Luca.

“Of course,” Signora Molinari replied, “but you...”

There was a sound on the stairs. Luca and Signora Molinari both looked, in time to see both Alberto and Harry duck out of sight behind the wall that separated them from the kitchen.

“Okay,” said Luca. “This is Alberto, he's my friend from Portorosso. Alberto, come out.”

Alberto emerged, and gave Signora Molinari a friendly grin as he waved at her. “Hi.”

“Yes, you mentioned him,” she said.

“And this is Harry,” Luca added. “He's, uh... he's the monster who lives in Dorotea's closet. He looks scary, but he's not gonna hurt you.”

“Kinda like us,” Alberto agreed.

Harry came down the stairs, eyes wide as he looked up at Signora Molinari. Luca had to wonder what he was thinking. He looked awestruck to be here in a human's house, staring up at just one in a whole world of creatures he'd only heard about, but had never seen. Signora Molinari needed a moment to collect herself, and then forced a smile.

“Lovely to meet Luca's friends,” she managed.

Luca was thinking as hard as he could, trying to figure out what to do next. Harry couldn't stay here, not any more than he and Alberto could stay in the world of closet monsters. They had to send him home. They also had to find out what had happened to Louise, Curtis, and Sullivan. The adult monsters had only been trying to help, and now they were trapped there and had probably been captured again, at the mercy of Mr. Waternoose and the exterminators. How were they going to do any of that?

At least Luca knew where they were. That was a start. “We need to keep the closet door open so no more monsters can follow us here,” he told Signora Molinari. “And then I think we better go back to Portorosso. Can you please call Signora Marcovaldo and tell her we're here and we need help with monster stuff?” Giulia's mother would at least be partly prepared if she heard that.

“Uh, yes. Yes, I can do that,” Signora Molinari decided, with a glance at the phone book. Luca carefully removed his hands from it, and the woman closed it and dialed Signora Marcovaldo's number... all while keeping her eyes locked on Harry.

Luca pulled a chair out and sat down at the kitchen table. Alberto sat next to him, and Harry would have joined them but quickly realized that the chair was not designed for his physiology.

“I still can't believe you did that,” Alberto told him. “What were you thinking?”

“What do you mean, what was I thinking?” huffed Harry. “You think she'd be calling your friend if those three grownups were here? She'd be calling the police instead.”

He might have been right, but Luca came to a much more depressing realization. “He was thinking the same thing I was thinking when I shouted sea monster,” he said. In that moment, the only thing Luca had been able to do was try to save himself. He'd thought Alberto had already ruined things for himself, and Luca couldn't end up the same way. It had been the worst thing Luca ever did, and he'd regretted it immediately, but at the moment there'd seemed to be no other way. “He was just scared.”

“I was not!” said Harry.

“Hello, Signora Marcovaldo?” Signora Molinari said to the phone. “It's Giada Molinari. My daughter Dorotea goes to school with Luca and Giulia. Um... Luca is here with a couple of friends, and they say they need your help.”

[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 11: Dangerous Respect

Chapter 11 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: defiant whumpee, cold whumper, restraints, interrogation, verbal sparring, escape attempt, beating, broken fingers

---

Wraith

Isadora narrowed her eyes at Wraith. “If you know me as well as you think you do, then you know I’m not as stupid as all that. I’m not letting you free.”

“Who said anything about freedom? The door is locked. I’m sure every inch of this room is under constant surveillance. And there are at least a dozen guards between me and the exit. All I’m talking about is the chance to speak as equals. How many chances will either of us get to talk to someone who understands?”

“You can talk the way you are. I’ve done nothing to your mouth.”

He waggled his unbroken fingers again. “We both know I can’t do anything with my hands like this.” He let out a long, sorrowful sigh—another one straight out of Gabriel’s playbook. “Just like we both know this is going to end unpleasantly. Before that happens, I’d like the chance to have that civilized conversation you mentioned. Not an interrogation. Just a talk—one crusader to another. How long have we both been waiting for that?”

She didn’t say no as she regarded him for a long, tense moment. She was clearly trying to keep her face in its mask of icy indifference, but Wraith was used to reading Gabriel, so he knew how to read her. And she was tempted.

Of course she was. Gabriel would have been. If the shoe had been on the other foot, and they had captured Isadora and locked her up in their warren under the abandoned warehouse they controlled, he would have had to watch Gabriel like a hawk, lest Gabriel have a spasm of conscience and unchain her in the name of letting her have a little dignity. Putting them all at risk like that was exactly the sort of stupid thing he had been stopping Gabriel from doing for ten years, while Gabriel had been keeping him from rushing off in fits of temper.

The problem with Gabriel was that he thought everyone was as painfully principled as he was, even though his long friendship with Wraith should have taught him otherwise. It was both logical and absurd that Isadora shared the same flaw. Logical because in so many ways, she was Gabriel, even if comparing his most hated enemy with the man he cared about more than anything in this world made him sick. And absurd because if he were listing people in order of how principled they were, Gabriel would be at the top, while Isadora Pope would be far down at the very bottom. Whatever moral code she lived by, it didn’t preclude snapping a helpless prisoner’s fingers.

At last, she shoved herself to her feet in an uncharacteristically jerky motion. She strode to him, hands tightened into fists. He flinched back before he could stop himself. But she didn’t hit him. After a few seconds, he realized the only one she was angry at was herself. She had won an argument with herself—or maybe she had lost. Either way, she didn’t look happy about it.

“Don’t try anything,” she warned. He held his breath as her hands went to the cuff around his left wrist. As her fingers brushed his skin, too close to his hand, a full-body shudder ran through him. He couldn’t suppress it. He knew she had seen his reaction, the evidence of the mark yesterday’s torture had left on him. Just a few small bones, and already his body feared her on an elemental level. She had already made him weak.

But she didn’t show any response. He wasn’t sure she had even noticed. Her fingers were busy with the lock around the cuff. She produced a tiny key and twisted, and the cuff fell away. The relief that flooded his body was better than sleeping in after a week with no sleep. It was better than a sip of water after days of desperate thirst. He couldn’t hold back a soft groan of sheer pleasure.

He stared at the bruised, reddened skin. His wrist was swollen to nearly twice its normal size. As the wave of relief passed, a fresh burst of pain swept down his arm, as if the increased blood flow had woken up a few sleeping nerves.

He didn’t care. She could have set him on fire, and it wouldn’t have mattered, as long as he was free.

He couldn’t believe she was really doing it. It had been a desperate gambit on his part. It never should have worked. But there was the cuff, lying empty in two pieces under his wrist. And there was Isadora, fitting the key into the cuff around his right wrist.

Of course she was doing it. It was what Gabriel would have done.

As she worked on the right cuff, he didn’t move, not even to test the newfound freedom of his left arm. When it fell away, he held himself perfectly still as she moved on to the ones around his ankles. He didn’t dare do anything that might bring her to her senses.

The final cuff loosened. The nerves in his ankles screamed back to life. He took a deep breath. The cuffs had done nothing to constrict his chest, but all of a sudden, he felt like he could breathe easier. A tightness around his diaphragm that had been there since Special Security had ambushed him was suddenly gone.

Isadora stood and tucked the key away. “Last night, I wanted to destroy you. I was… angry. You see, when I talked about the dangers of letting anger master you, it’s because that’s a subject I know about firsthand. I was angry that I didn’t understand you as well as I thought I should. A lot can change in the course of one conversation.”

Wraith flexed his wrists. He drew in a sharp gasp of pain. His stiff muscles moved like rusty hinges. He wondered if the damage was permanent. Not that permanent meant much, with his probable life expectancy.

He moved his ankles in small circles and hissed through his teeth. Could he stand on them? Probably. If he had to. After how long he’d spent sitting here with the cuffs cutting off his circulation, it wouldn’t be pleasant. But he didn’t need it to be.

“You won’t leave this place alive,” said Isadora. “You understand why, I’m sure. You’ve already lost this game. But you’ve been a worthy opponent for all these years, and now I can finally see why.” She walked back toward her chair, but didn’t sit down yet. She rested one hand on the back of the chair, her solemn eyes locked with his. “So let’s get to know each other, you and I. Then we’ll see about the rest. Maybe we can even find an arrangement that’s mutually beneficial… or at least mutually tolerable. And then…” A flicker of Gabriel’s bottomless sorrow appeared in her eyes. “Then I’ll do what is necessary. But I won’t be cruel about it. I’ll give you the respect a worthy adversary deserves.”

She pulled her chair out. Before she could sit, Gabriel surged to his feet. His ankles screamed in unison, shooting bolts of pain all the way up to his knees. His legs nearly buckled under him. He didn’t let them. He let the momentum of his near-fall carry him forward, toward Isadora, whose eyes went wide as—too late—she understood what she had done.

He drove one elbow into her gut, the other into her throat. He didn’t need hands after all. Not for this, at least. She hit the wall with a sickening crack.

She doubled over, choking. He drove his elbow into her torso again. After that, all it took was a shove, and she slid down the wall and hit the floor. He gave her a kick to the kidneys, like the guard had given him, and followed it up by driving his heel into her windpipe.

She drew in a wheezing, rasping breath. She stared up at him, not with fear or anger or anything else that might have made sense, but with a kind of wounded betrayal, like he had let her down.

“You heard that I’m civilized.” He kicked her in the gut. “You heard that I’m honorable.” This time, his kick landed just under her ribcage. “You heard that I’m just like you, and you leapt on the chance to believe it.” He smirked down at her. “I can play the part when it suits me. But I’d rather not.”

Quicker than she should have been able to move, she jerked a hand up and clawed at his left hand. She grabbed his broken fingers and squeezed.

His vision went white. He might have screamed. He couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that by the time he could think again, Isadora was slamming him back down into his chair and tightening the cuffs around his wrists.

She stood before him, sucking in strained gasps through her bruised windpipe. The ice in her eyes was gone. They blazed with the heat he had seen in her yesterday, but this time, the heat didn’t fade. Her fingers clenched and unclenched. He braced himself for the pain.

But she turned around and stalked out the door without a word, her fists clenched around the last shreds of her self-control.

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper

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[dark-elf-writes]

If you’re still taking Soulmate prompts: parental Mic to Izuku where Inko tries to fight back because that’s her child, only for all her neglect to be shoved into the open? (Mixed with maybe Inko disliking the fact Izuku’s romantic soulmate is two people instead of one and at least one name is male…)

Ajdjjshsn Y E S just all the parental Mic okay.

Izuku was born with three names. One on their left and two on their right.

Their mom hated all three of them.

“Those are boy names, Izuku,” She hissed at them, scrubbing a cloth over their right wrist even though it was long past red and raw. “Two of them!”

Like Izuku could have stopped them from forming. Like they hadn’t already been printed on their skin from the moment they were born. Like Izuku had asked for Tokoyami Fumikage and Aoyama Yuuga to be their soulmates before they were even out of the womb. (They knew that most of it was their mother’s insistence that she had a son not a child. Knew that I’d it had been two girl’s names on their wrist that a lot of the anger, of the time spent rubbing their wrists in the vain attempt to rub the not ink straight off, would have been avoided all together)

It was their left wrist that was the bigger problem in her eyes. Two words in the green-gray ink of an incomplete parental bond. A damnation, in their mother’s eyes, agaisnt the parents Izuku had been born to, for all that one had left and the other… well the other was her.

‘Yamada Hizashi’.

There were times, when Izuku was alone late at night while their mother was working at the hospital curled under their All Might blanket and listening to the sound of Present Mic’s voice from their cracked phone, that they wished Hizashi would find them. Would take them away from this place forever. Would make sure they didn’t have to be alone and would hold them when they cried and wouldn’t rub their wrists raw before covering them in too tight bandages.

(Alone on a rooftop with sludge rattling in their lungs and their heart spiked into the street far below by a man they had idolized, Izuku wished for Hizashi so hard that it hurt.)

They had all but given up on that dream by the time they walked into UA for their entrance exam. All but given up hope of their platonic soulmate ever finding them. (They were nearly sixteen now, after all. What use was a parental bond if they were already an adult when it was formed?)

Then the Zero pointer happened. Then Izuku shattered both legs and their right arm. Then Present Mic ran to them with terror in their green eyes and Izuku’s name on their lips.

Most heroes didn’t publicize their civilian names, but as a teacher Present Mic would have seen their application.

Which was how Izuku found themself healed and wrapped in a too big hoodie in one of the offices in the main building only a few minutes later. Present Mic, Hizashi Yamada, frowned down at their phone as it went to voicemail again.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer. She’s at work.”

“Listener, you powdered three of your limbs. I don’t care if she’s on the damn moon.”

They ended up going home with Hizashi and their husband (“Just call me Shouta, kid. None of that formality from my spouse’s child.”) their mom calls the police on them for kidnapping the next morning despite the dozens of phone calls and texts left ignored and the formal notice filed through the PYHU agency that outlines a clear case of child abandonment and acknowledgment that as the parental soulmate Hizashi is well within their rights to act as Izuku’s guardian if their mother is not available.

There, sitting in the Yamazawa living room with a cat on their lap and a detective in a trench coat looking at them with sad eyes, Izuku decides they’re tired of wishing. Tired of waiting for someone to save them. They decide that maybe it’s time that they save themself.

“She hurt me.”

“True.” The detective responds immediately. His quirk not allowing him to do anything else.

“She abandoned me.”

“True.”

“I want to stay here.”

The detective smiled, soft. Kind. “True. Let’s make that a reality, kid.”

[umbracirrus]

WIP not on a Wednesday 💛

I've finally today been able to write for the first time in little over a week and a half... and I've honestly got a thing in my mind about Galmar at the moment. Don't even know why - but it stoked a fic idea in my head and - shock horror - a new dragonborn oc emerges from the abyss of my mind. Or rather I adapted a character, and some bullet point notes I had made, from a different idea I had months ago because I found this fit better. Her name is Aevra and I love her just like I do all the others.

But even though it was thoughts of Galmar which inspired me starting to write this, he isn't even in this WIP!! Hah....

Tagged by @thequeenofthewinter

-------

"Still, surely it is something worth celebrating! You can’t just save the world then hide yourself away, my Thane!" Lydia protested as the two of them descended the Seven-thousand Steps, much to Aevra’s disdain. She had just done what was needed to be done, with the only other option being death – in her eyes, that wasn’t worth celebrating. "Look, you went to Sovngarde and returned. You fought the World Eater! You can quite literally summon dragons for your every whim – surely that is worth at least a drink and celebration once we return to Whiterun?"

Lowering her head and folding her arms over, Aevra sighed. Clearly, she wouldn’t be getting out of this without Lydia getting her way to some extent. "Fine. One drink at the Bannered Mare, and we will buy the largest sweetroll to share in ‘celebration’ – but that is as far as I'm going in terms of- Huh?" She stopped in her tracks when the two of them reached the lowest wayshrine and Ivarstead came into her line of sight. "What is going on down there? There are an awful lot of people, even for Ivarstead... Lydia, this isn’t your doing, is it? Trying to rope me into a party?"

"This... isn’t what I’ve been planning. I was with the Jarl in Whiterun until that, ah... Odahviing, is it? Until Odahviing returned to take me to meet you at the Throat of the World," Lydia explained, her hand coming to rest on her sword. "But I don’t like the looks of it one bit. We should proceed with caution..."

Now that was something that she could agree with.

The pair slowly made their way down towards the town, where things began to become clearer. Much clearer.

Aevra was the first to realise what exactly was going on upon the sight of Imperial armour as they approached the bridge leading into the town. It took Lydia a few moments after her realisation to notice that she was no longer moving, and was instead rooted to the spot just before the bridge.

"Are you okay...?"

This was no celebration, and they were there for her.

---

The two of them were surrounded. Lydia had her weapons drawn, but Aevra did not.

"I will not allow you to arrest my Thane-!"

"You do realise that this town is Imperial land, and that your Thane is a wanted criminal?" Hearing those words from Rikke did make her wince and clench her fists, but she knew that at this point, there was no escaping it... "She killed over a dozen of her fellow soldiers, attempted to kill the General, and deserted – Dragonborn or not, she cannot escape punishment for her deeds, I'm afraid. Now, she can either come along quietly and prevent further bloodshed, or we shall apprehend her through force."

At this point, Lydia had already drawn her sword, and was ready to fight. Whereas Aevra... simply had no fight left. She was exhausted from battling Alduin in Sovngarde, then descending from High Hrothgar. She also didn’t have the energy that she used to all those years ago. As much as she wanted to fight to escape, she had no doubts that she would be quickly apprehended.

Besides... she had fulfilled her ‘destiny’. She had no more purpose; the world no longer needed a Dragonborn – not if Paarthurnax was going to be teaching the remaining dragons the Way of the Voice.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face her dear friend and housecarl, and rested her hand on her wrist to make her lower her weapon. "Stand down, Lydia. I... I think that I've made my peace," she muttered, walking past her and stopping when she was stood before Rikke. "Go back to Whiterun... and have that drink and sweetroll for us, okay? Take care of Breezehome, and take care of yourself."

"But-!"

"Lydia, you’re dismissed from your duties as my housecarl. Go home."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Dragonborn," Rikke stated, before glancing at Lydia. "Listen to her. You will be arrested for interfering with Imperial business if you remain."

Much to Aevra’s relief, Lydia cooperated, and sheathed her weapon before backing away. Even more relieving – though she wasn’t too certain whether it should have been a relief or not, given the circumstances – was that the Imperials had waited for Lydia to leave Ivarstead before she was officially apprehended.

After her arms were taken hold of, and her hands bound, she stared at the legate with as straight a face as she could. "I almost hoped that we would never cross paths again, Rikke. It hurts my heart that things have come to this..." Her head turned towards the mountain behind her, in part to conceal the wavering emotion across her face. "I presume that this has been in planning ever since the treaty was arranged? Since the General realised who I was?"

"I'm afraid so. Though I will be the first to admit that it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth having to do this to you..." Rikke made a noise, indicating that she was thinking very carefully about her next words. "To the Dragonborn... in the hours after Alduin’s defeat. But the law is the law, and you broke it."

She remained quiet after that… not that she was given the chance to speak.

[skylarmoon71]

Leonardo (TMNT 2014/2016) - Chapter 4

“Incredible.”

Another shock was sent through his body, and Leo clenched his jaw, not letting out a single scream. The man pulled back the lever with a smile.

“Dr. Levin, his heart rate is still steady. No change.”

Levin smiled at the report from his worker.

“You’re an amazing being, you know that.” He walked closer, looking Leo over.

“You’ve not only evolved from such an insignificant organism, but you trained your body to fight, read and process as well as convey human language. Do you understand what a feat that is? “ Levin was going on a tangent, but Leo kept his eyes stern and his expression neutral. There were at least a dozen people in that space watching him like he was some kind of experiment. Leo tugged at the restraints at his wrists, but it did nothing.

“What an exquisite specimen. Shock him again. “ He called. The worker placed his hand on the lever to follow through, but the lights above their heads in the building went out. Everyone in that area seemed on edge.

“Sir we’ve lost power!”

Someone called.

“The breaker must have overloaded.” Another imputed.

“That’s impossible, our system is secured outside the city.” Someone else cried.

“Whatever it is, just fix it!!” Levin yelled.

There was the sound of scrambling feet. It took maybe a minute, and the lights flickered on. When it did, a figure stood at the center. The two guards at the door reached for their guns, and you lifted your own. The hoodie you wore did a good job of keeping your face slightly blocked from their sights. Everyone froze, and Leo’s eyes widened in shock.

“This is your only warning. If you want to walk out of here, do it now.”

Levin wore a wide smile.

“Kill her.” He instructed the guards. They didn’t even have a chance to pull the trigger. You spun around firing two shots and their bodies dropped.

Levin looked startled, and the other workers in lab coats began to scream and scramble for the exits. You walked through the chaos. Straight up to Levin who in one last attempt tried to race to the controller. You fired one shot that hit him right in the knee cap. His body collapsed as he let out a yell. The room was pretty much cleared now, and he tried to force himself to his feet, but you stepped on the injured limb.

He screamed in pain, practically crying. When you heard the bone snap, you moved your leg, and he placed his head on the floor, sobbing as you stared at the lever. You searched for the one to lower Leo’s body from the air. Your eyes fell at his current state. He was sweating profusely, and you could see different areas on his body that had trails of blood as well as smaller injuries.

“Damn you Leo.” You grumbled.

You couldn’t find the correct switch, so you moved over to his form. You basically tossed your gun, placing your hand on his cheek in concern. Leo just smiled at you.

“I guess I owe you now.” He tried to laugh, but you could tell the action brought him pain.

“Don’t talk, just breathe.” You instruct, removing your hoodie to wipe the sweat from his face. You passed the cloth along his face, eyes filled with worry. Leo’s tired gaze stayed focused on you.

When you heard the gun click behind you, your attention shifted. Leo’s eyes hardened.

Levin was using the table to support himself as he held your gun. You could hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance.

“Step away from my experiment and I might just let you live.” His breathing was heavy, and he looked agitated. Not that you blamed him. It was a wonder he was standing upright. He kept the gun pointed right at you. Yet, you barely reacted.

“You have one option. Walk away now and I’ll think about letting you survive. “ You spoke calmly.

He just grinned, then began laughing,

“I’m the one with the gun!!”

You still didn't look phased.

“I’m not going to say it again.” you warn.

He gripped the gun with a frown, eyes blazing with rage.

“You think you can mock me!!”

He pulled the trigger and the bullet struck you right at the center of your head.

Leo lost his breath. The color drained from his face, and you knew he was about to scream, or cry. But your body didn’t fall. Your head hung low for a second, and then you lifted it, just as the bullet ejected itself from your skull, dropping to the floor. Both Leo and Levin were speechless.

“W-What..”

Levin’s hand was shaking, and when you moved towards him, he opened fire, taking careless shots. Every single bullet hit your body, and by the time you were in front of him, you grabbed the gun that was still in his grasp, turning it to his chest as you pulled the trigger. He let out one shaky gasp, legs shaking as he dropped. A few more staggered breaths, and he was gone. You dropped the gun, eyes blank.

You turned back to Leo who was still looking on in disbelief.

Nothing was said. You just took steps back, just as you heard tires pull up to the building.

The lights in the room flickered again, and when they flashed back on, you were gone.

[deans-writing]

Get The Fuck Out (Of My Club)

Characters: Hades Illiano, Chain Hawk

Warnings: Alcohol abuse

Notes: hi :3 (also this is. this is gta and the underworld is a gimmick it's a fucking GIMMICK if you haven't been reading abt him) also this is. short but HEYYY I WROTE SOMETHING!!! (please be proud/silly)

Past the flashy lights, roaring music and ludicrous amounts of liquor- The Underworld was a way for Hades to relax- even if just for a short while. There were no gunfights. The threat of failing and missing out on a payday was nonexistent with how tight he ran the business. He could sit back and let his income roll in. Though once the door to his office swung open and allowed a wave of music to burst through, he was shaken from his relaxed state.

He looked at who was entering while swinging his legs off of his desk and planting his feet on the ground. "Chain?" Hades raised a brow as he leaned forward. His hands came up and gripped his knees. The boxer let the door slam shut behind him, a sound that was drowned out with the club's ongoings. "Get up." Chain commanded simply.

Hades did as he was told, standing up and then following Chain as he motioned for him to come along. The two walked to the window that allowed the fighter to overlook the entire club. "See that?" Chain asked, pointing to the bar. Hades squinted through the tinted vision his shades created.

It was certainly a sight. A man- clearly under the influence- stood in front of the bar. He was leaning over it, his fists pressed hard against the wooden top. The only thing stopping him from grabbing onto the bartender who was backing away was the distance created by the bar.

"Is he-"

"She cut him off and he just- lost it. Started shouting and getting real aggro." Chain said. "...figured you'd want to handle him." He mentioned. Hades fists clenched. "Yeah." He growled. "I do."

Professionalism be damned, who did that son of a bitch think he was. Screaming at his staff like that? That was strike one. Hades pushed past Chain, his shoulder grazing his back as he made haste out of the office in his power walk. He wouldn't kill him, that was the one rule. He wished he could just tear his throat out- but he was in public. He wasn't the mercenary right now.

God, he wanted to be.

He went out through the door and down the walkway, turning the bend to find himself only a dozen or so feet away from the drunkard. His shouting had grown louder as he approached, and the bartenders efforts of calming him failed. Evidently.

"Hey!" Hades called out. He still tried to sound at least somewhat calm, maybe drown out his murderous rage. The malice in his heart seeped through anyways, whatever. The man stopped for a moment, turning his head. His stare was filled with undeserved rage. Hades made a mental note to hire another guard to stick around the bar and keep an eye out for people like this.

He walked closer. "You're done." He put it bluntly, "Pay your tab, and get the fuck away from my staff." Hades ordered. The man didn't budge. "You can't jus' fuckin'-"

"Yes, I can." Hades cut him off for the second time (ha), the drunk was trying to ignore his commands- strike two. The attention was at least off of his staff. He could handle the heat. "Back off." He continued. There was a glimmer of hope for the man's odds of not being hospitalized once he did in fact step away, then it vanished when he took a step towards Hades with that same anger burning his face.

Strike three. It was going to get physical no matter what he did now. Fine.

The man's hand reached out to grab onto Hades' chest only a second after that thought. He didn't earn a warning, he figured. Hades grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him in to close the distance. A few moments before they collided, he had pulled his head down. It was like a reversal of a battering ram, except it was the top of his skull breaking the man's face.

The top of his mouth had been the main point of contact, more than enough to leave him with a sore set of gums and an ache in the rest of his face. His body reared back from the attack, and Hades allowed him to fall back while he let go of his hand. He didn't fall down, and that just wouldn't do.

Hades stepped forward, leaving some distance between the two just for his leg. It rose halfway up his stomach, his knee just barely missing him. He stuck his leg straight out and kicked the man square in his own abdomen. It both knocked him down and knocked the wind out of him, whether it was the initial blow or the harsh slam against the metal flooring they stood on that did it was up for debate.

The crash below echoed, but was completely void as a result of the music still blaring over it. No one who hadn't been watching even noticed it happened. Maybe that was for the best, considering what he was going to do.

He took a step further and crouched down. His hands quickly began to pat the man down as he wheezed and gasped for air, certainly in no position to stop Hades as he found the drunks wallet in his jeans right pocket. He slipped it out of the crevice swiftly before standing up and turning to the bartender.

The money meant nothing to him, he had more than enough. Hades threw down the wallet onto the bar where the man's fists had initially been. "Take what you want... Pay his tab though. The rest is yours." He paused, looking down and licking at the inside of his cheek. "I'm sorry about that. This- this shit isn't happening again." Hades assured while he met the girls stare.

She merely nodded, letting out a soft "thank you" which he couldn't really hear as she took a hold of the wallet. He turned his attention back to the man, his stare hardening and frustration burning through him once he realized he'd have to get huffed up the stairs and thrown out like the trash he was.

At least he wouldn't be bothering anyone anymore.

[dova-70]

I need to motivate myself to write more so I'm posting, here.

Subject is sitting in interview room, appearing bored, [NOTE: biometric monitor logs show increased heart rate and perspiration, indicating subject is hiding anxiety] wearing standard issue black detainee jumpsuit, with handcuffs threaded through the table to hold subject, and additional power dampening bracelets on his wrists, ankles, and neck.

*Dr Jameson opens the door to interview room, staying in the doorway*

Dr Jameson: Hello, sorry for the wait, just getting the last of your papers together, we'll be ready to start in just a minute.

Subject: No, no don't worry, take your time... Not like I'm going anywhere *subject shakes hands, rattling the handcuff chains*

Dr Jameson: Right, well, just one minute.

*Dr Jameson leaves again, for 6 minutes, during which, the subject can be seen making small nervous movements; head twitches, nervous tapping of fingers on the table, or foot to the ground, etc, before Dr Jameson reappears*

Dr Jameson: Sorry about that, dozen different papers, from a dozen departments, you understand.

Subject: Oh of course, of course, I can leave, come back tomorrow if you need more time to get ready?

*Dr Jameson looks unimpressed at the subjects unimpressive attempt at humour*

Dr Jameson: uh huh, that won't be necessary, are you ready to begin?

Subject: Ready, willing, and oh, so eager!

Dr Jameson: ...Please state your name for the log.

*Subject takes a few seconds, coming to terms with the doctor being, in his own words from a post-interview questionnaire "boring as hell" and would "like a more fun one next time", which has been forwarded to Dr Jameson*

Subject: ...*sighs* Kevin Harwood

[Note: subject will be referred to as "Kevin" for remainder of log]

Dr Jameson: And can you confirm your ability, as well as your current, normal, and potential power class, and reasonings for each of them?

Kevin: My ability is "static shock", it allows me to create electric currents by... Pulling electrodes out of atoms, or something. I am "currently" at a power class "E" because of these handy dandy little bracelets, *Kevin shakes his hands again, motioning to the power dampening bracelets* which weaken me to the point that I'm pretty sure a hamster on a wheel would make a more effective generator than me!

My regular class is a "B" because if you let me charge up for a few minutes, normally, I can generate enough to stop a person's heart, but again *jingles bracelets*. And my potential class is "S" because a *few* people *think* that *maybe* that *if* I spent *years* training, I *might* get powerful enough to like, destroy a city. Or at least kill everyone in it, and I don't know, blow up their computers?

Dr Jameson: Well, I feel the need to make some small notes to that summary; first, you generate a small "beam" that causes elec*trons* to be pulled from their atoms, often causing them to collide with other electrons which also get pulled, which creates a chain reaction.

Second, because of that chain reaction result, if you *did* output enough energy, you *would* destroy a city, if not worse, because it would turn into a fully fledged nuclear reaction. Third, you do, in fact, make less energy than a hamster currently.

Dr Jameson: Moving on, though, would you like to explain how you ended up in custody with us?

Kevin: let's not pretend I have a choice, doc, I'm sitting here in a cell and your asking if I'd *like* to do anything. Ask me it straight doc, all I ask.

*Dr Jameson scratches at the bridge of his nose, the audio recorder picking up small pieces "just semantics" "no, it's good" "went to university" "top of my field" during which, Kevin appears entertained to be annoying Dr Jameson.

Dr Jameson: Kevin Harwood, explain for the log how you came to be in our custody.

Kevin: Oh, well when you get so commanding like that, how can I refuse an order? I was leaving a club, and heard a struggle from an alley, I looked and there were two men... assaulting a woman, and so I stepped in, and kinda got my #### handed to me an-

Dr Jameson: How come you didn't use your ability?

Kevin: I... It takes a bit to charge, as I said; a few minutes to kill someone, there were two of them, and so whether I wanted to go for a kill or not wouldn't've mattered. That's the logical explanation anyway, the real reason is I just didn't really think of it, you know? The second you realise you're looking at something like that, you just run to stop it, you don't really think: " oh wait, let's just hold back for a minute to charge my instant death touch" right?

Dr Jameson: So you're just a good Samaritan?

Kevin: I don't know about that, I mean, would you not do the same? Wouldn't anyone?

Dr Jameson: I don't know... I think I might've been scared, in your position.

Kevin: No. I guess you've never been in a situation like that before? It's not like you're seeing red, or anything, but you don't think clearly; you just see a threat, and your body moves to, *neutralise* it, I guess.

[Note: Dr Jameson has been present during several raids, riots, and escape attempts, being forced to, in some cases, take up arms for self defence.]

Dr Jameson: I guess I wouldn't know what it's like, no, but you speak like this is normal for you? "I can tell you've never been in that situation before" and all. Is this not the first time?

Kevin: I've stopped a few robberies, like, one dude busts open a window to get in a store, I creep up behind him and give him a shock, tie him up, and leave an "anonymous tip". Except this time, of course, there were two of them, and I didn't even zap either, initially. So I'm on the ground, getting my #### kicked in, as mentioned, and I start charging, eventually I get a charge off, and... kill one of them, and the other runs, piss scared.

At this point, I can barely walk, I have broken ribs and, you know, I'm in bad shape. So, either the guy, or someone who heard calls the police, not the girl, she kinda stayed, whether frozen stiff with fear, or something else, I don't know, but she didn't call them. When they come, I don't have the energy to put up a fight, I get detained, and once it becomes clear what I can do, I get passed to the experts.

And here I am now, recounting my life's story, pouring my heart out, and you haven't offered any condolences, or! Or! Made any moves to keep up your end of the conversation! This whole time it's been "Kevin, tell me about your powers." "Kevin, how can your dad still hate you when he's 6 feet under, you know that doesn't make sense, Kevin!" "Remind me of your name, Kevin!" It's not very good conversation, you need to work on that! Here, let's try some roleplay, I'll be the doctor, you be the patient! Now, what's your name? For the log, you understand.

*Dr Jameson takes a few moments to, as he put it in his interview assessment "imagine myself on a bench in a fairground, looking off to the horizon of the sea" before collecting his papers and standing, moving to the door*

Dr Jameson: well thank you for your time, Mr. Harwood, I think this has been very helpful, but we might have to call you back in for further interviews in the future. Good day.

*Dr Jameson leaves the room, leaving Kevin alone, looking disappointed*

Kevin: how come that patient gets to leave?

[End of transcript]

[nexuschampion]

@accioturtur

That morning he climbed into bed bloodied and broken. Upset but too exhausted to talk about it, the only thing he could bring himself to answer in response to her concerned questions before he closed his eyes and fell asleep was "Well, Raph didn't take the news well but it went about as good as could be expected."

**************************

Michelangelo jerked awake, heart pounding, sweat dripping from his brow.

"Mikey?"

His head jolted toward Shadow. He grabbed her wrist, wide eyed with panic. "We need to go."

R̴̢̠̭̱̮̺̙̣̱̹͊̃͐͒̇̈́̈́͌̈́͊̇̇͘͠ư̶͙̣͔̞̊̑̍̂́͗̊̉̐͐̄̋̌̚n̶̡̬̭̣̪͕̝̟̳̳̖̟͓͗͐̿̋̑̈́̎̊̅́̓͐̃̐͆

"Go where? You just had a nightmare baby, that's all. Tell me about …"

"No, we need to leave. I need to get out of here."

Ŗ̶̞̳̖͉̩͔͔͋͒̊̿̀̈́u̷̩̬̟̙̜̥̣̟̞͈̝͎̻̹̘̒̀́͒ń̵̢̪̪͔̜̎̇̅̃͆̀̐̋̀́͛̎ ̴̺̬̤̤̠͉͇͛̄̐͆̎̎̃̅̈́͘a̵̓͑̏̀͝��̨͍̭̦̙̣͙͎̮̮̘̞ͅẉ̸̧̹̠̻̳̩͍͂̉͒̽̄a̶̢̪̯̥̋́͛̎͆ͅy̴͙̺̫̎̔

Shadow sat in silence for a few minutes as he tried to calm himself down, but it wasn't working. He needed to run. They needed to run.

"I keep having dreams. Nightmares."

"What are they about?"

"I don't know." He took several deep breaths. "It's…it's just…now that I…I can tell. I can feel it getting stronger. Every day, more and more." With a flurry of sheets he was out of bed and across the room. They should pack. They needed to get anything important. Enough things for a week away, at least.

ȩ̴̘̖̣̟̜̬̞̪̖̹́͗͌̍̔̉̒̎̍͆͛́͝ṽ̸̛͈̼̙̲̲͔̟̮̞̗͉̟̒̓̌e̸͖͎̪̠͒͂̇̂̈́̋̀̈̍͒̈́͠͝͝r̶̨̖͖̖̹̖͍̥̯̰̂̍͂͗y̸̛̯̪̟̭̟̰̝̠͍̰̼̳̬̑͊̽̒̓̉͊͂̈́̈́̽̐͝o̴͇̰͒͌̌̂͒͠n̴̨̛̰̤̣̟̝̜͕͉̗̲̠̽̍̎̄͌̒͊̏͝e̷̢̗̘̜͈̙̿̒̓́̑̒́̈̓͆͂̚ ̶̠̤̘̦̦̺̤̤̌͆͛̆ỉ̸̤̯̭̲̘̯̰͖̲͎͇̝͛̒s̷͉̣̜̮̫͉̖̔̏̔̈́͐́͊͐̿̔͑̿̄̚ ̵̛̖̈́͑̇̒͋̋̓́̆͛̓̕ģ̶̨̧̼͙̟̤̳̥̲̮̖̠̫͇̓̑̅õ̸̧̡̰̞̟͇͓̻͔̹̺̘͔͚͛̃̽̒̂̕͝i̵̡̳̻̯̬̙͚͍̤̦̙̲̐̋̄͊͑̆̉͜͠͝ͅn̵̺͇̲̬͗̽g̴͉̲̯̱̣̠̻̥̙͓̱̠̰̹̹͊̑̏̀̏̅̌͒̊͘͝ ̴̡̨̦̮̪̜͍͍͙̤̬̫̙̞̉̐͛͝ẗ̸̤́ȱ̵̧̖͕̘̩̻͉̖͚̟̬̯̍̇̀͛̽̂̒̉͋̚͜͠ ̶̢̼͕̃ͅḑ̷̰͛̒̏̌̿͆̊i̵̩͒͘e̵̛̹͕̤̰̠͍̠̹̞̿̆̿̏͝

He barely heard her over the buzzing in his head and pounding of bood as it rushed through his ears, if he actually heard her at all. He grabbed at things, then put them down, unsure if it was necessary. In his confusion and panic he didn't notice she had come over to take something from hsi hands. What was in his hands? He looked down to see. It was a single shoe. One of hers.

"MIKEY!"

"Half a dozen times a day Shadow. At least. I just wanna…" He put the shoe down but kept fidgiting and pacing around the room accomplishing nothing.

"Want to what?" she prompted after a tense silence.

He met her eyes. "I want to run away. From everything. I don't want to deal with any of this. I'm so scared of losing you. Of anyone. I don't think I could go on if anything happened to you…"

"Baby, you know you can't. Your family needs you here. I'm not going to let you abandon them. Just breath hon, take a breath."

He stopped pacing and stared at her, trying to steady his breath. The sound in his ears was dissipating, the inability to even focus his eyes on one thing was fading. "I know. I'm not going to, there is just this part of me that's just, it's a strong, strong feeling… Really strong. Like something is trying to tell me it's not worth it to fight for it, I'm risking….risking everything."

"Everything is a risk. Especially now."

"These things, these attacks, it's part of it. It's just going to get worse. It is worse. I…"

"I know."

He whimpered as his shoulders dropped. "I'm such an idiot. I am so stupid. We can't beat this thing. And it's my fault we aren't making progress and people died Shadow. Because of me! Because I won't let Leo murder any more children!"

"We don't know that for sure, but yes we can beat this, we can if we stick together! Even Leo thinks we can do this, you know that!"

"No, no, no that's the problem!" Tears started to pool in his eyes. She never understood, not really. She hadn't been there. She didn't know what it was like having the people you loved more than anything in the world try to murder you. Gleefully.

"What is? What's the problem Mikey? The attacks? Other people? Is there something else I don't know about?"

"All of it. Everything. Do you have any idea how many people have actually asked if I was open to jobs to murder, rob?? People see me as a weapon and I am. But no no no, most importantly if this is happening to me it means I'm not the only one. It's got to be getting harder for them too. I can tell they are getting, getting angry. That's what they do. They get angry and want to destroy everything and then they do."

She pinched her nose between her finger and thumb. "Right. Curse. So we talk about it. We all agreed to talk about it. Especially if you feel like it's affecting you right now. Especially since Raphael knows too. We should probably tell your other brother as well. We need to go see them now."

"No" he shivered. "He's not, he's not stable enough, though to be honest I don't know that he'd even care. Maybe we should. Why would I decide anyway?"

"You're not alone baby.Your whole family is in this together, decisions and all."

"But, Leo."

"Yes Leo too. Both of you."

"No, Leo…"

Tears unwillingly started to fall down his cheeks.

"He's going to lose it too. He's going to come after Donovan, me, you… All of us. Just murder us in our sleep like he has thousands of others! If not him someone else is going to…"

"He's not going to Mikey. He's reasonable. He understands this curse better than anyone. He's got good control over it, he told us that. You've seen it for yourself."

He wiped his eyes, desperately trying to stop the free flow of water. "You don't know that. Every moment of every day I don't know. I never know. Any of us coud snap at any moment. Or a monster could appear. Or the demon thing. Or fuck, nothing. I don't know. I have no idea what's coming. But if I feel like this, they have to too."

He collapsed into a heap on the floor and a very small noise came from his deep in his throat.

Shadow knelt next to him and gently rubbed his shell for a long time.

"Sorry Shadow, sorry." he mumbled. After a pause he said "Why can't a bicycle stand on it's own?" After another purposeful silence he answered. "Because it's two-tired."

Inevitable

"Mr. Hamato, thank you for your time. We want to be clear that this is an unofficial visit, off the record, we would just like to get an idea of your experiences."

Mikey smirked. "Yeah, sure. Earth Protection Force not doing so well these days?"

"That agency has been disbanded as we have adequate plans for multiple potential scenarios regarding alien transgressions. We just have a series of questions to help us gauge the security of not only our country but the world."

"No pressure" he chuckled. "Trust me though, anything I might know that you don't, I won't be able to elaborate."

"Are you aware of alien civilizations?"

"You were around when the Triceriton thing happened yeah? I think that speaks for itself."

"Are there others?"

"Of course there are. You think the only intelligent life forms are humans and a literal dinosaur species?"

"Are there any you can specify?"

"You mean are there any that are a threat to Earth? Sure, plenty coud take us out, but Earth isn't exactly a target destination so I really doubt we have to worry about it."

"The Triceritons disagreed."

"The Triceritons had Earthly origins."

"What about multiple dimensions? There are theories that there are layers of alternate realities."

"Closest I've gotten is a really wild dream where my father was a villain and I had to take him down. Sorry."

"Have you been in contact with any foreign entities on this planet that might be a threat?"

"What, like other mutants? Spies from other countries? My life isn't that exciting. The only people who aren't regular humans I have regular contact with is my own family and friends."

"Would you be willing to share information if you happened to come across it?"

"This is sounding a lot more like recruitment than a friendly chat. Look, if there is an immanent threat I would weigh my options. I'm not taking sides or any of that shit. I'm just one guy."

"One guy with very unique skills and" the man looked him up and down. "One guy with unique skills and physical opportunities. We can make you a citizen, if that's something you would like. Give you a pension in exchange for those skills."

Mikey paused at that. "I don't really like the idea of opening up the pandora's box of being a recognized person. I'm good. "

"We'd just like you make you aware that there are options. We do have a lot to offer, in exchange for favors."

"Mmm okay. Although we both know I'm capable, I'm not an assassin, I'm not a soldier, and I'm not for sale. I do what I know is right for the people right in front of me. That's all."

The man, dressed formally, suit and all, nodded. "You could be doing a lot more for your country. We'd just like to ask you to keep us informed if you become aware of anything regarding national or worldwide security, and we would like to do the same for you."

"Alright." He shrugged. "You get wind of an end of the world thing you let me know and I'm happy to help. And I'll let you know if I hear anything. We good?"

"I believe we're good Mr. Hamato. We look forward to any correspondence. Call this number at any time for any reason."

"Like a late night pizza service? Nice!"

The man stood and looked at him with zero humor. "Have a nice day sir."

"Yeah. Yeah, um, you too."

@accioturtur

[michelle-is-writing]

Unconventional Soulmates, Spencer Reid

I love soulmate AU's, and this was a random idea that popped into my head :)

Word Count: 1.8k~

A part of Spencer loved the fact that he had a soulmate. In all honesty, he couldn't wait for the day he got to meet them. The idea of someone being out there made just for him, and him being made for someone out there delighted him to no end. However, there was a slight issue.

Having the words, "Help me!" printed on his wrist in an old-fashioned font was fairly inconvenient, to say the least. Growing up, everyone confused it for him trying to subtly seek help. Many people even thought it was his way of searching for attention, causing some people to look down on him. This made him hide his arms behind sweaters and long-sleeve shirts all day, every day, which would then continue on into his adult years.

Even in 100-degree weather, his cardigan sleeves would cover up the two words imprinted onto his skin. The only time they were uncovered was during a case that involved the victims being submerged in water. Spencer had rolled up his sleeves to help rescue the last victim, and when he did, he happened to catch the eye of Derek, who questioned him about it when they were back on the jet. Derek was a little disappointed to hear Spencer talk so negatively about the special words that marked the future love of his life.

"I hate these stupid words," Spencer muttered, subconsciously pulling his sweater sleeve over his hand. "At this point, I'm probably going to find my soulmate at the hands of an unsub, and instead of falling in love with me, they're going to fall in love with the fact I saved them."

Hearing Spencer say such things made Derek feel bad for him, but he knew there was no use in trying to change the way that Spencer felt about his soul-mark. Derek had been blessed with sweet and non-threatening words on his side - why couldn't Spencer have the same thing?

It wasn't until one Saturday afternoon that Spencer came to love the words on his wrist.

Being the godfather of JJ's son, Henry, it was Spencer's responsibility to show up to all of his birthday parties with a gift in hand and a new magic trick in his coat pocket. Of course, all of his team members had the responsibility of showing up as well, but Spencer held a slightly higher duty of being there for his first godson.

As soon as JJ saw Spencer enter through her front door, she greeted him with a smile as he handed her the wrapped gift in his hands. Before he could even say anything, JJ spoke up first. "Henry's in his room with his friends and my cousin," She explained, "Go ahead and join them. You'll probably be giving (Y/n) a chance to catch her breath."

'(Y/n) must be JJ's cousin,' Spencer thought to himself. He had heard JJ mention the name (Y/n) a few times before, but she never went into full detail over who she was. The only thing she had said was that she thought her cousin, (Y/n), and Spencer would get along well and become great friends. Despite not even knowing or meeting (Y/n), hearing JJ say the word 'friend' made him sad at yet another lost cause.

With a short nod, Spencer moved past JJ and toward the area where loud voices of happy children could be heard upstairs. As he got closer to the open door, he could see several giggling children topple on top of a grown woman who was laughing with a bright red face thanks to the dozen kids currently crushing her airways. This had to be (Y/n), and now that Spencer saw what the overly energetic kids were putting her through, he realized that JJ's joke about giving (Y/n) a chance to breathe was a reality instead.

"Uncle Spencer!" Henry shouted upon seeing the tall figure in his doorway. Spencer smiled at his Godson, but it was only a short second before his eyes flickered over to the woman on the floor who was currently being "attacked." She was still laughing, but now that Spencer had a chance to get a good look at her, he saw much more than just a flushed face with a plastic tiara placed atop of a head of messy hair. She was beautiful, and in Spencer's eyes, she was something he had never seen before.

"Help me!" The woman almost shouted, laughter following directly afterward as one of Henry's friends jumped on her legs to keep her down. The words hadn't even phased Spencer, but as soon as he heard what came out of her lips, he knew he had to play along.

Without even thinking about it, Spencer let his bag drop to the ground while raising a pointed finger to the ceiling. "I shall save you, my princess!" He all-but shouted before dashing forward and pulling (Y/n) up from the ground in a dramatic-heroic way. (Y/n) couldn't help but laugh again, and even though Spencer was a germaphobe who avoided touching other people at all costs, he didn't seem to mind keeping his arm around her waist even after she was standing on her feet.

As soon as she was off the ground, the kids surrounded her just as Spencer moved to stand in front of her. Being in the moment, (Y/n) didn't think twice about wrapping her arms around Spencer's neck from behind to look down at the several kids who were trying to get her. "Ha-ha!" She exaggerated a laugh as if she were claiming victory. "My knight in shining armor has prevailed! I am free from the Goblins who try to invade the castle!"

In response, the kids awed in defeat only to resume smiling once they heard JJ shout the magic words from the kitchen. "Kids, cake!" She yelled, and in three seconds flat, the once full room of kids was now empty except for two people. Those two people hadn't moved from their original positions, and the smiles on Spencer's and (Y/n)'s faces showed they weren't bothered at all by the fact that they were technically strangers who were holding each other.

However, after a few seconds had passed, Spencer and (Y/n) simultaneously moved to face each other, still happy. It was only then that Spencer faced the reality that this woman whom he barely knew had yelled the two words he hated just moments ago. Yet, she hadn't said them during a case, nor had she yelled them in a moment of distress. There was never a day that Spencer thought his soulmate's words could be used during a positive event and not a dangerous one. Or, at least, he hoped his soulmate's words were said in a good manner.

"Please," Spencer muttered, his blissful gaze dying down into a hopeful stare as he looked at the person who he prayed was his soulmate. "Please tell me your soulmate-mark matches the words I just said."

Instead of instantly giving him a quick moment of satisfaction, (Y/n)'s breathless grin turned into a soft smile while her (e/c) eyes stayed locked onto Spencer's own coffee-like ones. Without haste or hurry, the woman simply lifted her hand and pulled down the neck of her jumper to reveal the fancy cursive writing marked onto the skin of her collarbone.

I shall save you, my princess!

Of course, the small tiara tattooed below the words was done on her own volition, but Spencer still couldn't help but reach up and graze his fingers gently over the slightly raised skin. At the same time, his sweater sleeve rode up to reveal his words as well, and once (Y/n) saw them, she couldn't help but quietly giggle. Her first words to her soulmate just had to be a plea to get a bunch of eight-year-olds to stop trampling her.

Spencer had dreaded the moment he'd meet his soulmate, but now he saw that he should have been dreaming about it instead. Despite his hatred for his typewriter-like tattoo, he forgot about all the years he suffered because of it. Instead, Spencer focused on the moment he was sharing with the person he had been made especially for, and vice versa.

It may have been too soon in their fresh relationship, but only a few seconds passed before Spencer and (Y/n) met for a quick, yet passionate kiss as they wrapped their arms around each other's waist and held each other close. Once they pulled away, they giggled and remained in one another's touch until (Y/n) took Spencer's hand in hers and separated from the embrace.

Walking out of her nephew's bedroom with her newly found soulmate behind her, (Y/n) navigated her way down the steps and into the kitchen as JJ hurriedly cut slices of cake for everybody. With a quick smile of agreeance at each other, Spencer and (Y/n) stopped at the island where JJ stood and cleared their throats. Being so focused on getting everyone a piece of the cake, JJ didn't think of anything that her cousin and co-worker might be referencing to until her eyes caught the sight of their interlocked hands.

"Wha..." She drawled on, slowly putting the knife in her hand down to give her full attention to the situation before her. She knew about her cousin's soul-mark and corresponding tattoo; however, the last person she would've expected to match those words would be Spencer Reid, a shy guy who would never declare a stranger as 'my princess.'

Although, despite JJ's confusion, (Y/n) simply cleared everything up by smiling and saying the sentence she had been planning for so long. "I finally found my prince," She announced, her small smile turning into a full-on grin as she turned her head up to look at her soulmate. She was given the same happy grin in return, and even if soulmates and soul-marks didn't exist, she knew that Spencer would still be the one she would love forever.

In response, JJ couldn't help but clap her hands over her mouth as a very happy sob left her lips. Immediately, she rushed forward and took her cousin into her arms while the other guys realized the situation going on and congratulated Spencer. Although, their reactions were a little less sob-filled, and instead, ecstatic. Of course, this didn't include Garcia as she was both happily sobbing and excitedly jumping.

For the longest time, Spencer felt nothing but loathing for the words on his wrist, but now that he saw why the words were put there and who they were put there for, he felt that it couldn't have been better. He finally got his soulmate, and (Y/n) finally got her prince.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Riddler (4/7)

Word count ; 4.1k

*Edited.

I felt tender as I stared at Bruce’s sleeping form, admiring his bare chest. I reached over to the floor beside me and pulled on his oversized tee-shirt. The shirt was loose over my naked body. Things felt good between us, if only for a night. Bruce was extremely tired and I was extremely stressed from everything that was going on, so at the very least, it was a good fuck.

I was starting to second-guess my decision to divorce him. But, I was stubborn, and one night wouldn’t make up for all the pain of the past.

I walked around to the other side and leaned over, pecking his forehead. He stirred slightly, grabbing my wrist from under the covers.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled incoherently.

“I’m going to make some breakfast. I’ll bring some in for you in a little bit,” I answered.

A ghost of a smile graced his handsome expression before he burrowed his face into the pillows. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing, Brucey.”

His wrist went limp and he dozed off again. I headed over to the closet and pulled out a pair of shorts. The sun was peaking gently through the curtains, indicating it was mid-morning. So, naturally, I was starving.

I headed to the kitchen. It felt nice to be back in the manor, even if it was probably temporary. Alfred had welcomed me back with open arms. He had watched the news and was absolutely wracked with worry and guilt. However, me being with Bruce had calmed his old-man nerves.

Still rather groggy, I made it to the ornate fridge. Long story short, I made fruit oatmeal and toast. And then, it hit me. I was here. I had the opportunity to snoop on Bruce’s work while he was asleep. Even though I was a key player in the Riddler’s game, I knew close to nothing about the case. I never had time to check the news, I was only thrust into situations I didn’t ask for.

I took a detour with the tray and entered the basement. I switched on the lights and made my way over to the worktable. I set the tray aside and typed in Bruce’s password. I knew it by heart, better than my own phone. Right away, up popped the folder for the ‘Riddler case.’ I clicked on it, and up came different diversions. I did some snooping through the clues, set up in alphabetical order.

First was the late mayor’s crime scene. I didn’t need to look through that.

Next was a fucked up thumb-drive. It made me sick to my stomach when the thumb-drive revealed dozens of stalkers photos of me.

Next was something about a ‘rat.’ It must’ve correlated to what the conversation was about yesterday.

The final one was news footage that looked unfamiliar. I hummed in confusion. It wasn’t the news footage from yesterday, something different.

I pulled the video up, watching adamantly.

“We’ve received some footage from the latest serial killer terrorizing our city, the Riddler. We warn you, though, the following contents are very disturbing.”

I gulped.

A livestream recording was pulled up. It was from Instagram, and there were roughly five-hundred viewers watching. It disgusted me that people were showing their support in live comments and hearts. The video was unpaused.

A familiar green eye stared into the screen. “Is it working? Ah, yes, there we go! Hello, citizens of Gotham. And, of course, a special hello to my one and only. This is dedicated to you, love.” He distanced himself from the screen. I could’ve sworn I saw something from behind him, but his bulky form blocked it from view. He dramatically clapped his hands. “This is just an update. I really despise this filthy city. It’s crawling with vermin. Except for you, my beloved.”

He stepped the side. I wanted to vomit from the sight. Trapped inside a spike cage, duct tape covering his mouth, and rats gnawing at his naked body, a man was trapped. He was screaming and crying blood as the rats chewed further into his mangled flesh.

“This man here may not be a politician or criminal. However, he is a vile creature contaminating this earth. His name is Jude Marshall and he is the bartender at Iceberg Lounge that insists on flirting and serving my beloved every night. So, it’s only fair that I end his life, along with several ever vermin. Watch your back, Bruce Wayne.

“Not only are you as corrupt as the people who run this city, but you are far more evil. Any man who could take advantage of a living angel deserves far worse than death. I know you’re watching this right now. Be afraid, Mr. Wayne.” He leaned toward the camera as the man let out one more gargled cry.

“Be very afraid.”

The livestream ended.

I clicked off the video. I felt suffocated. I was worthless. I was more than worthless. I was the cause of this psychopath. I was putting my husband and everyone I loved in danger.

Why was I so helpless?

I collapsed in the desk chair and covered my face in my hands. I couldn’t help it. A few sobs escaped as I curled in on myself.

What had I done to deserve this? All I ever did was my best. Did god or karma or whatever existed out there really hate me so much?

“I should’ve locked the basement.”

I gasped and swiveled around. Bruce was behind me in sweatpants, something dark in his expression.

“I wasn’t snooping, I was just investigating —“

“I know.”

I felt ashamed. I shouldn’t have, but I did. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just didn’t want you to see it so you didn’t get upset. Which, you clearly are.”

He stepped forward and trapped me against the chair. His fingers trailed down the side of my arms as he pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. I was surprised by his actions. It sent a shock of comfort through me and I felt myself leaning toward him.

“Let’s go eat in the bedroom,” he requested, heading over to the tray.

I hopped to my feet. “O - oh, right. I’m sorry, I hope it isn’t cold —“

“Stop apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong, Y/n.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Maybe all was not lost.

~~~

I tossed and turned in the large and empty bed. Bruce had headed out an hour or so ago to do his vigilante duties. But I was so worried about him that I couldn’t get to sleep, even if I knew he’d be there when I woke up in the morning.

Well… I could only hope so. It’s not as though he could make up for everything just from one good night.

I rolled out of bed and clicked on the lamp. The sun was setting. I was sleeping early because I was tired and lonely. But I was restless and paranoid just as much.

I pulled on my slippers and and marched through the manor. Alfred was probably busy dealing with Wayne corporation like usual, so I had the entire manor to myself. I stood outside the basement, wondering if Bruce had locked the door, but when I jiggled the knob, it opened with ease.

I snuck down the stairs and entered the password for the large, advanced computer. I briefly scanned the ‘Riddler case’ file, only to yield no new evidence. So, instead, I clicked on the livestream viewing from Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce was gazing out upon the city, but turned at the sound of metal screeching. A woman who was in costume but I instantly recognized as Selina emerged from the elevator remains. Bruce wasted no time, rasping,” Cat burglar pulling another scene?”

“Wha-a-at?” she mewled in amusement, stopping before him with her hands on her hips.

“Wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again after what you pulled.”

“Yeah, well, things were a little hot for me, so…” A surge of jealousy ran through my veins as I noticed the flirtatious shimmer in her orbs, eyeing Batman up and down. It quickly dissolved into fury as she paced. “How could they do that to her? That piece of shit cop, Kenzie. Her body was in his car. I’m going to find him and make him pay. Are you going to help me?”

“Help you?”

“Yeah, I thought you were ‘vengence’,” she snipped.

"Your friend got involved with the wrong people. She didn't know any better. Maybe you should have explained it to her.” I was taken aback by Bruce’s cold response.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He turned his attention back to the view of the city. “It means your actions have consequences.”

“Jesus Christ. ‘Choices’? You know, whoever the hell you are, you obviously grew up rich,” she fumed.

“Was it worth it?”

“What?”

“Compromising yourself for money? What did you have to set up to settle that score?” Bruce began advancing toward the small woman. “How close did you have to get to the Penguin? The Falcone?”

Seething, she snapped,” You don't know what the hell you’re talking about. Falcone owes me money.”

“He owes you?”

“Yeah. And a lot more.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“You know what? I can't even talk to you.” She turned tail.

Batman’s arm shot out, seizing her aggressively. “No! I want to know why a man like Falcone owes you anything.”

“Because he’s my father!” she screeched.

Although I knew nothing about the underground ring, even I could feel the heavy weight of her words. Bruce fell silent. Selina wrenched herself free.

“My mother worked at the 44 Below.” I knew that club immediately. “Just like Anni. She used to take me there when she was a little girl.”

"To the club?”

“Yeah.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I hid out in the dressing room while she worked. I used to see him there. He scared the shit out of me. And I could never understand why he looked at me the way he did. Then one night, my mother told me who he was. When I was seven, my mother was murdered. Strangled. I never found out who it was. Probably some creep at the club. Anyway, social services came to take me away, and he didn’t say anything. Couldn’t even look at me.” Fierce yet tranquil, she stared at Bruce. “He owes me that money.”

“…I’m sorry for what I said.”

She chuckled dryly. “It's alright. You assume the worst in people.” She tilted her head. “Which, well… maybe we’re not so different after all.” Her demeanor changed and my body ached with paranoia. She stalked forward, only a few inches away from Bruce. “…Who are you under there?”

My heart shattered as her hands glided to his mask out of view, ghosting over his costume features. Her eyes flooded with seduction as her head tilted upward.

“What are you hiding?”

Her hand trailed down his chest plates.

“Are you just… hideously scarred?”

She anticipated Bruce’s answer. I did, too. Whatever it was, it was my answer as to whether our marriage was failing.

“It’s none of your business.”

A faint smile stretched on the woman’s lips. Her eyelashes fluttered and she finally broke eye contact.

“Listen to me. If we don't stand up for Annika, nobody will. All anyone cares about in this place are these white, privileged assholes. The mayor, the commissioner, the DA. Now, Thomas and Y/n Wayne and that shallow husband of her’s.”

My heart ached when she said that. I thought I had made a friend, but clearly not. She thought nothing more of me than a privileged gold-digger who married rich. I knew lots of people thought of me like that behind my back because of my troubled past. Did Bruce think that too?

“I mean, as far as I'm concerned, the Riddler has the right to go after these creeps. I think you'd be on his side, even if he seems to hate your guts.”

There was an edge to Bruce’s voice as he drawled,” What do you mean, ‘Thomas and Y/n Wayne’?”

She laughed momentarily. “What, do you live in a cave? The Riddler’s obsessed with her for some reason. He’s obviously going after that husband of her's next, too. Listen, if I can find Kenzie…” She closed the distance between them once more. “…will you help me? Please. Come on, Vengeance.”

“…Just don’t make any moves without me. Do you understand? It’s a little more dangerous than you know —"

Selina grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. I was at my final straw. But Bruce pushed her away, panting angrily. I couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, I saw him so upset. Selina was taken aback by the mood change and his actions, clasping her chest and wide-eyed.

“Don’t.”

It was as though she hadn’t gotten the hint yet. “It’s okay to be scared of intimacy —“

“I’m happily married to the most important woman in my life. Pull something like that again, and I’ll make sure you never see my face again.”

She was taken aback and her cheeks darkened out of shame. However, it was as though she connected the dots. She took a few steps back and scanned his body up and down. “You were raised rich. You’re married. And by the look of that subtle ring that I failed to notice, you spent a pretty penny on it, too. All of your attention is on the Riddler case and the Riddler hates both Bruce Wayne’s and your guts.”

Bruce let out a quiet growl. I could do nothing but watch, not wanting to acknowledge my whirlwind of emotions.

“Don’t worry, I won’t compromise your identity. I’ll keep my distance,” she croaked. “I guess… I never expected you to be Bruce Wayne, although I guess the hints were there…” She sighed. “I wish you and Mrs. Wayne the best.”

Bruce did nothing but grunt aggressively as Selina turned and walked away.

She spared him no glance over the shoulder as she left.

I pulled myself away from the screen. I was stunned by the interaction. Bruce… really did love me still. More than I ever imagined. All this time, I thought our love had faded. And yet, when given the opportunity to be with such a strong woman, he turned her down for me. Because he loved me.

As hurt as I was by Selina’s words, I understood. I hoped… that she could see me differently in the future.

I returned to my — our — room with a rejuvenated love for my husband.

But, it was cut short by phone beginning to ring. I hoped it was Bruce, but I was disappointed when I saw it was my employer. I answered reluctantly.

“Hello, sir?”

“Y/n. I hate to ask this with what’s going on in the city, but can you come in for the night shift? (Coworker’s name) was found dead in his apartment last night and there’s nobody else that can step in,” my boss shakily requested.

I audibly gasped. “Oh my god, of course…! Do the police know who did it? When’s the funeral?”

“The Riddler.”

My blood ran cold. That monster had been stalking me for god knows how long. He had taken yet another acquaintance from my life.

“O - of course. I’m so, so sorry —“

“Don’t apologize on behalf of that sicko. Batman will get him. Don’t you worry, Y/n. How long will it take for you to get here?”

“Twenty minutes, if I run,” I answered.

“Great. I’ll make sure to give extra pay for this. See you soon.”

My boss hung up, leaving me in a rush to change and head out. I had to make it up for my coworker, so at the very least, I could take over his work. He was just an innocent bystander that was done the disservice of knowing me. So much for the Riddler being a man of justice.

I informed Alfred of where I was going on my way out. And since my trust in Bruce had been redeemed, I sent him a text telling him that I would be at work if he returned home to find me gone.

I dashed down the street-lamp-lit roads, the sun completely gone from the sky. I was nervous being out late at night now that I had a reason to be nervous and a reason to avoid being kidnapped. But I made it to work without a hitch.

I snuck into the back and pulled on my apron. I clocked in and greeted the manager politely. She was relieved that I made it at all. Right away, I was thrust into work, not able to recover from the run. There were customers that were coming in for a late dinner, so the diner was fairly crowded.

I half-manned the kitchen sine there was only one chef on duty while also waiting on tables. Even half an hour in I was completely exhausted, but I persevered. For (Coworker’s name) and for myself.

An hour later, the diner was clearing out. The customers that remained were either chowing down or loitering, having already paid the tab. The manager let me have a quick five minute break, which I used to touch up my appearance.

When I emerged, refreshed enough, I noticed another customer had come in. I instantly recognized him. It was Edward, that kind stranger that’s always here during lunch shifts. I guess he didn't have much to do on a Friday night.

I greeted him with a smile and withdrew my notepad and pen. “Welcome back, Mr. Nashton. Are you getting your usual, or do you plan to expand your palette?”

His face lit up, but it was replaced with a timid and bashful demeanor as he fiddled with his fingers. “Just Edward is fine. And I do feel like something new. What would you recommend?”

I scratched the back of my neck, embarrassed. “Well, to be honest, I haven’t actually eaten here before. But… the double cheeseburger looks appetizing, especially when I make it.”

He flashed me a grin. “Perfect. I’ll get that with my normal chocolate smoothie.”

I jotted it down, nodding. “Sounds good. Coming right up.”

I disappeared in the back, informing the chef about the order. I decided to make the chocolate smoothie myself. The next ten minutes, I catered to other customers, but eventually, I took the meal out to Edward.. I set the food out for him.

“Here you go, s - Edward. I’ll be back with the check in a few minutes,” I robotically announced.

“Wait - did you, uh, make the cheeseburger yourself?”

“Oh, no, I made the smoothie, though,” I informed, confused.

He ogled the smoothie in an odd fashion. I wasn’t sure how to take his fascination. I broke out of the conversation and continued with work, but I became keenly aware of Edward’s stare whenever I exited the kitchen. It was… somewhat uncanny, to say the least.

I was glad when I finally rung up his check. The diner was almost completely empty, save a few lovesick couples on dates, and, of course, Edward. It was getting late, so nobody was around when I sauntered over to him with the check.

“Here you go, Edward.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card. He adorned a coy smile as he slid it over. I went to pick it up, but he suddenly grabbed my hand. I let out a quiet gasp.

“W - wait, I was actually wondering… can I have your number?”

Oh. Oh, boy. How could I do this without pissing him off? “Well, you see, it’s company policy. Customers aren’t allowed to date the workers,” I fibbed.

He didn’t let go. In fact, he squeezed me harder. “But it’s just a small diner. I know they don’t have those rules in place. Listen, I just think you’re a really, uh, incredible woman and, if you’ll let me, I’d love to take you out on a date.”

I gulped. “I’m sorry, Mr. Nashton. I’m a married woman. Don’t you see the ring on my finger?”

For such a timid man, I was stunned when his expression twisted into a vile fury. I managed to wrench myself free, not sure what to do. He was glaring furiously at the counter.

“That evil man doesn’t deserve you,” he seethed. He continued muttering under his breath.

I took the chance to go over to the register and take the payment. Edward was still fuming in his own world. I swiped the credit card and returned to him, sliding it across the counter from a distance. The door rang, and I was relieved that there would be a new customer to serve —

Bruce had walked in - out of costume, obviously. He stood in the doorway, eyes glued to me.

I waved, relieved that my husband would be around. Edward spun in his seat erratically. His fists balled up as he stared at Bruce. He must’ve recognized who he was. Bruce didn’t spare the man even a glance, coming over to me.

He leaned against the counter, only a few seats down from the pissed customer. He clasped his hands together. “When’s your shift done?”

Butterflies fluttered in my chest. “It ends at ten, so… in half an hour,” I answered with a smile.

He furrowed his brows. “I can’t believe you’re still going to work with a target on your head. I’ll drive you home.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Brucey —“

Edward banged his fist into the table, causing the plates and silverware to tremor. Bruce and I stared at him, bewildered, as the man snatched up his coat and credit card and stormed out.

For some reason, I felt scared.

Bruce’s fingers ghosted over my arm. “Who was that?”

“Well, uh, a customer. He had a crush on me and asked for my number… Obviously, I turned him down.”

His cheeks upturned ever so slightly. “He has good taste.”

A blush rose to my cheeks and I laughed. “Where’s my husband and what have you done with him?”

A smile stretched further on his face. “I’m glad you see me as your husband again.”

“Well, I - I mean, only if you keep up what you’re doing, because you’re winning me over.” I felt shy as I gave him a peck on the cheek. “I need to clean up in the back. Tell me if you need anything.”

I disappeared into the kitchen. The chef was also absent of duties, scrolling through his phone. I did the remaining dishes and wiped down the counters. When there was only five minutes left, I changed out of my apron and clocked out a few minutes early. Instead of going out back, I joined Bruce in the front.

“All finished up. Sorry about the wait.”

He shook his head, rising to his feet and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “It’s no problem. You must be tired.”

I frowned slightly. “Well, my coworker was murdered by Riddler. I felt obliged to clock in for a shift after that happened. People around me are dying while I’m forced to be a sitting duck, so…”

He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “It’s not your fault. You’re the victim in the situation.”

I nodded my head. “I know, but I also… I just don’t feel that way. I can’t help but feel that if I jut listened to you and never left the manor, nobody would be dead right now.”

Bruce sighed as we approached his sleek black Maserati. “That’s not true. For all you could know, the Riddler has been obsessed for far longer. All you were doing was taking care of yourself. I wasn’t being attentive and that’s my fault.”

He unlocked the passenger seat. I stepped in, sinking into the cushions. Bruce closed the door and went to the other side, slipping into the driver seat. He started the car up. I had no words to describe how validating he was being. It was like… we were starting over fresh. Things were returning to normal, or at least, as normal as they could be.

Even if home was only a few blocks away, I found myself falling asleep.