#it’s fine i’m fine really i’m fine [actively tearing at the drywall]

[bikananjarrus]

girls (gn) after seeing the beautiful stunning showstopping animation styles in visions s2 and remembering that filoni spat in the face of animation and said it’s not necessary to watch rebels and knowing we’re never going to get the rebels animated sequel that we deserve

[dadsbongos]

Greetings! I got this idea for danganronpa AU where Nagito is like ghost "living" (or haunting idk-) his old house and the reader moves into that house and they slowly became closer and yk<3

hi i love this concept :)

Request for: Nagito Komaeda Warnings: nagito’s backstory, slight religious overtones, we breach minor ghost-fucker territory (but no actual ghost-fucking), no-killing game au also ~~~

The house itself was rather nice. Nothing too luxurious for who the previous owner was aside from the obnoxiously fancy chandelier hanging in the den.

The realtor was hesitant to explain that the reason it was selling so comically cheap was, in fact, due to the belief of a ghost. Not just any, however. It was the previous owner’s ghost.

People who even stepped into the house could feel his chilling touch. Hear quiet, shaky whispers in the night. The fireplace would crackle and burst to life at strange times with nobody near it. Visitors and almost-buyers alike would thrust their warnings to stay away upon anybody who so much as looked at the home.

But that didn’t matter much - a house was a house and it’s not like the ghost was malicious from description. Just… annoying. Perhaps a little eerie, but again, not harmful. Everybody escaped without physical injury. So, why not buy it?

Maybe the ghost just needed a friend? Death was probably a lonely time.

Bought on Tuesday. Moved in Wednesday. Finished unpacking… still pending.

It’s not like (Y/n) had anybody to impress anyways. She’d made the move for a fresh start; new faces, new stories.

The bumps began on Friday.

Sometimes they were taps. Sometimes crashes followed by the gentle rapping against the walls, as if to apologize for the loud noise.

She’d stayed through the month, undeterred by any of the ghosts’ activities.

Then the happenings seemed a little more… intimate.

A photo slowly sliding out from beneath the fridge, at first.

Three people in frame. From left to right, there was a figure with shoulder-length pink hair and a smile to make the heavens jealous - then white hair to rival a cloud-marshmallow love child, skin sickly pale and body wastingly thin - finally, brown hair with an ahoge sticking out like an antenna and posture that almost made him taller than the one in the middle. Well, not really, but attempting counted, right? 

“Which one’s you?” she asked the air, whether she was too tired, or simply didn’t care enough, to be embarrassed was irrelevant. 

A single droplet of water, from a leak she didn’t know existed until this very moment, fell from the ceiling before splotching over the face of the one in the middle.

“White hair, heavy eye bags?”

There was no response, but she took it as a yes anyway. What a pretty, pretty face. In a tragic way.

Because he did look rather ill. Frail build and purple hues under his eyes. Pretty but suffering - it made her feel bad. Of course, she already knew he was dead, but even so - suffering should always inspire empathy rather than romance.

And again, he was dead, so the likelihood of a romance between them anyway was slim to none. None. Unless she suddenly dropped dead, there would be no sweet kisses in the morning or gentle hugs from behind as one of them makes dinner. Maybe when she died, he’d be available for a ghostly date while the house gets put back on the market.

(Y/n) chuckled at the sudden thought of lightning cracking into her home, despite the sunny weather, and striking her dead where she stood. Ridiculous, but God liked ridiculous things.

The sudden thought hit her - what if that old photo was old old? Maybe he was eighty when he died and she just subconsciously signed herself up for a date with an elderly ghost?

Shaking her head, (Y/n) scolded herself for the thought. She’d already be dead by then, it wouldn’t matter what age he was...

Then, it was the scribbling on spare papers. Always specifically spares. Double copies she had put in recycling. Scraps. Even on the backs of paper-esque trash. It was an oddly considerate move for a ghost, though to be fair, she’d never met a ghost before and couldn’t tell if it was out-of-place or not for them.

The words always appeared when she was out of the room. Leaving to grab something and coming back to find the out-dated schedule for work out of recycling and on her desk with crayon sprawled over it. 

Hi 

Eloquently said, in her opinion.

“Hi?” she looked around the room, “Can you not talk? I thought people said they heard whispers…”

A bang in the other room drew her out. When there was nothing out of place, she returned to her desk only to be met with more words.

I’m Nagito Komaeda :)

“Dodging the question, huh?”

The process repeated. Bang. Nothing out of the ordinary. Return. New words.

Sorry :(

“Don’t apologize,” (Y/n) shrugged off before moving to her computer, “I’m just gonna look you up.”

A series of bangs - now that she truly listened, it sounded like a fist pounding to the drywall - resonated through the home. She did not get up nor did she pause her actions of Googling the man known as Nagito Komaeda. 

Until a piece of paper flew in from the open door.

Bad idea

“Probably, yeah,” she huffed, moving back to her computer.

Nagito Komaeda, born April 28th, first popped up as the sole survivor in an old plane hijacking report. Both parents, all plane staff, and the hijackers left dead after the plane crash caused by a meteor strike. Then he came up as a survivor of an old serial kidnapper/killer. Then as a boy who’d inherited the entirety of his parents’ fortune and won a large sum from a lottery ticket he’d found in the trash bag he was stuffed in by his kidnapper. Then as a Hope’s Peak graduate under the title Ultimate Lucky Student.

Finally, as a 25-year-old man who’d miraculously survived ten years post-diagnosis with frontotemporal dementia and advanced lymphoma before his death.

“Holy shit,” she nearly choked on her own shock, “You weren’t boring, that’s for sure.”

Another paper, this time written in marker as if he could sense that she didn’t wish to get up. Another strangely considerate move.

Thanks 

You’re not creeped out?

“I mean, it’s more sad than creepy,” her eyes scanned over a single line in the article once again.

“Nagito Komaeda, after all his fortunes and misfortunes alike, died at age 25, after ten years of illness, surrounded by friends who took the place of family. Out of respect, no interviews were conducted, but anybody, anyone at all even from a quick glance, could tell - Nagito Komaeda will surely be missed.” 

Her eyes watered slightly as she clicked out of the Togami Publications, laughing at the pure awkwardness of her situation, “Oh my God, that’s really fucking sad. I’m sorry your life sucked.”

Another paper.

It’s fine

I was just wasting space anyway :)

“No, you were- “ she gestured to her computer screen before covering her eyes in shame of her tears, “You meant so much to your friends.”

She expected memorial posts, maybe not as many as there were, but she saw them coming. What she didn’t see coming, however, was that each and every one would be dearly heartfelt - not a single one was disingenuous or vague in the slightest. She also didn’t see herself crying by the end of her little search.

But there she was.

Something light floated into her lap. A tissue.

“Oh my fucking God,” (Y/n) choked up again, picking up the tissue with a small smile, “Stop, you’re a ghost, you’re supposed to be scary and making me leave, not helping me dry my tears…”

Another paper atop the slowly growing pile.

Was that a ghostphobic remark?

“Oh, I’m keeping that one,” she stood, sniffling as she wiped away her tears, and picked up the last paper, nodding to herself as she muttered, “Yep. This one’s going on the wall.”

~~

Nagito stopped whispering because people ran when he did. His voice was always hideous, he didn’t to be reminded. Besides, (Y/n) seemed to prefer the paper method - she hung up her favorites along the walls of her office and if a visitor teased her about it she would ignore them. It was admirable, how their grins and giggles rolled off her back like water droplets over a duck.

He wished he could be like that.

Could have been.

He still had trouble with that.

Has.

Nagito looks up from his spot at the kitchen table where (Y/n) was cooking for herself. She seemed so at-peace in this house, and he’s glad for that. He never liked living alone and everyone else seemed to hate having him there. Not that he blamed them much.

Even so, he much prefers (Y/n) over any past guest as his living counterpart of the house.

She even leaves chairs open for him at the table; he smiles widely at the thought, patting his thighs and kicking out his legs in his seat- just like now!

She’d pulled out the chair upon entering the kitchen before calling out for him that she’d be cooking. She even knew he liked watching her cook!

It was selfish of him to crave so much attention, but in the end, Nagito was already dead so… did it really matter when he indulged in his wants more than he should?

Divine punishment isn’t real and he likes being around her, so why should he bother hiding himself away in the attic?

(Y/n) moved around the house with little to no liveliness, it made him chuckle. Her shoulders drooped and footsteps heavy, it was fun. To feel like he wasn’t alone.

He hoped she felt the same. That he was a friend… or, undead companion?

He hoped she would stay and not move out.

He hoped they could be real friends one day… if it’s not too much to ask, that once she dies, she’ll meet him. The real him. 

That would be heaven.

[heliosthegriffin]

Dead Knight VIII

Content Warning: Gore and Panic.

The lack of pain was quite welcoming to Jaune as he flew backwards into a wall. 

He still felt all the air get knocked out of his lungs, but that didn’t stop him from getting up on his feet again, the pair of twins watching him as he did so.

“Ah so the rabbit rises,” The one in white said.

“Just in time for us to skin him.” The one in red responded.

Jaune gulped and tried to think what to do, and then nearly slapped himself.

In the most fluid motion of his short unlife he unsheathed Crocea Mors and released his sheath into it’s shield form.

‘Ok, that solves one problem. Now, how do I deal with the those two and their goons?’ Jaune thought to himself.

The goons didn’t look intent on joining the fight, just gate-keeping the exits in the front, and the stairs to the side.

They didn’t look particularly tough, just big guys in black suits.

Well, actually they did look pretty tough, a week ago Jaune would have just thrown his wallet one of them and ran away. But, considering Jaune had already died this week and just got kicked across a room a moment ago some goon really didn’t make the top of his likely to kick his ass list.

He had much more pressing issues, two of them infact.

Those twins hadn’t made a move yet, but that was probable because he just brought out his weapon.

They were probably reevaluating him.

Then the one in red cut across the room at speeds that would make a cheetah call unfair.

‘Block, and put put your weight on your back foot, don’t keep you knees straight or you’ll break them!’ Summer said rapid fire at him.

All Jaune caught was block, before red claws started slashing at him.

Shink-Shink-Shink

The sound of metal scratching off metal cut through the air as Jaune took the hits on his shield.

It made Jaune cringe at the sound and the force on his shield was unreal. How was she so strong?

If Summer hadn’t given him Vigor, he might have already been dead (again) on the floor!

He could hardly move as he was slowly pushed back against the wall. 

‘Jump!’

Jaune did as he was told, as a bladed boot cut through the space where his knees occupied.

He jumped all the way into the ceiling, though. Hitting it with a loud thunk.

‘Jaune push off the ceiling, otherwise their going to have you surrounded.’

“More than they already do?”

‘You do not want to fight two vs one, Jaune. With one at your back and one at your front.

“Alright, I got you.”

Jaune dug his fingers into the drywall of the ceilings, momentarily halting gravity's tug, and then threw himself legs first and forward.

He landed harshly, falling in a heap, briefly twisting his ankle and tear a couple muscles that were fixed by his regeneration.

The twin were immediately on his case as a pair of claws and bladed heel darted at him.

Jaune managed to block the claws, but the heel dug into his chest, hitting his breast plate and denting it into his ribs, breaking two.

Jaune coughed up a load of spit up, miracuoulsy hitting the red one in the eye as she was going for a second attack at his throat.

“Aghh!” She screamed falling back, rubbing the saliva out of her eyes.

The white one scowled at him, then sent him a flurry of kicks in revenge.

Jaune tried his best to block, but her superior speed let her weave through his meager defense. Letting her hit him repeated across the chest denting his armor and 

‘You know what Summer?’ Jaune thought at Summer as he tried to block the blows.

‘What?’

‘This sucks, I bet if I could feel pain right now, I would have blacked out.’

‘Yep. So, how are you planning of getting yourself out of this mess?’

A bladed kick gouged out his cheek. ‘What do you mean my mess! You’re the one who led me to this place.’

‘Eh, lets not get into semantics, now have you tried hitting them?’

‘No! What if I kill one of them?!’

Jaune could then feel Summers sheer confusion.

‘What do mean? Are you joking with me? Cause it’s a stupid joke.’

‘No, Summer I don’t want to hit someone with my very sharp sword, because I don’t want to kill them!’

‘Their Aura will protect them!’

“What in the Darkness is that!?” Jaune yelled out in confusion.

The twin in white hesitated for a second and misaim her kick accidentally hitting Jaune’s shield and with a trail of sparks then cut into the floor.

‘Now, Jaune! Just trust me!’

“Fine, here goes nothing!’ Jaune said raising his back off the floor swinging his shield, which the twin deftly dodged, that he followed up with the momentum created by the shield to swipe at her with his sword.

Crocea Mors had just enough reach to tag her leg, his undead vigor did the rest as the blade hit her.

The edge of the blade was sharp and was swung hard hitting into the White Twin’s aura with a spray of sparks and flash of light, the aura preventing any damage.

It did not stop the momentum behind the attack however, bladed heels do not provide the best footing.

The twin’s legs were hit with enough force to send her into the air.

‘Jaune, get up and go, now!’

“Got it boss!” He said and rose up.

He looked at the suits and brought up his shield as he charged them.

There was brief moment of shock among them. Then they brought out the guns and fired.

Jaune’s eyes widened and brought his shield up in front of him, the bullets sang through the air and his shield like angry metal wasps, but it stopped them.

Then Jaune fell to the ground as suddenly the he felt very light.

He it the floor with a thump.

Jaune really didn’t want to look behind himself, but did anyway.

His legs and waist were separated from his body a pool of blood and intestines trailing to his torso. The Twin in Red looking at him in shock and horror.

“Summer they cut off my legs.”

‘That’s unfortunate.’

“What do I do now?”

‘Um, have you considered death?’

Jaune thought about it for a second and then got were Summer was going.

“Yeah, dying for a bit seems better than this.”

The Twins and the Goons kept staring at him for some reason.

Jaune looked at the goons and lifted an eyebrow.

“So, you guys just going to keep gawking or something? Why haven’t you shot me? I thought toughs like you guys do it all the time?”

The goons said nothing the shades they wore prevent them from making eye contact, but their faces clearly were locked into a mask of horror as the bisected and deathly pale boy just kept talking to them.

“Summer, do you think I could cut my own head off?”

‘Probably, but it wouldn’t kill you. You need to destroy your brain, otherwise you’re going to have to wait for your body to regenerate.’

“Alright, this may sound a little strange, but-”

Jaune didn’t get to finish however, as a familiar bladed heel separated his head from his neck.

Jaune’s head landed on the floor and rolled off into the corner. His head facing the wall.

He opened his mouth to try and talk, but he had no lungs to push air through his throat. He could still feel, hear and see though.

“There, there sister it’s not your fault. I thought he had aura too.”

Jaune could hear the other sister sobbing. ‘Why are they crying, I’m the one who just got dismembered!’

“Look, I finished him off. I killed him, all you did was, eh, uh, you got him on the floor for me to finish him off it’s not your fault.” 

The sobbing quieted but was still audible.

“Alright Miltiades, how about you go back into the car. Micky! Take my sister to the car. Me and the others will take care of the rest.”

Jaune heard the sound of footsteps as Miltiades was led to the car.

A loud clap was heard. “Alright, boys the house has been compromised, I don’t know who that freak was, but if he had any friend or connections, or who knows maybe the cops suddenly decide to do their job, their going to come check out the house that suddenly became a shooting range.”

That got a couple chuckls.

“Now, load up everything of value, don’t bother with the furniture, leave the body too and anything he had, we don’t want to take any chances dealing with him he might be a rogue Atlas experiment or something. So, remember grab everything of value we can and move out, leave me box of fire dust and I’ll be good.”

Fire dust? What are... They gonna do.. Oh shit

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

‘Summer they’re going to burn the fucking house down!’

Summer said nothing.

‘Summer, please! What do I, what do I, what do I?!’

Tears started falling from Jaune’s eyes to the spreading pool of blood around his head..

‘Please, Summer!’

Footsteps ran up and down the house, grunts came from upstairs as boxes, crates and tools where taken from the house.

Then it was quiet. 

Then came the the crackle and swoosh of flames, followed by the click of heels and a closing door.

‘I’m so sorry, Jaune.’

That was the last thing Jaune heard before flames consumed him and the house.

They say that smoke is the biggest killer in most fires, suffocating those stuck and keeping them from escaping. A small mercy, perhaps, as it only takes around two minutes to lose consciousness, two agonizing minutes.

For a Servant though? 

A Servant does not need blood or oxygen too keep their brain functional.

Jaune remained alive even as the flames consumed him. He could not feel the pain however, the Vigor still active.

He could feel the flames, the heat, his skin bubbling and melting, every sizzling burn and pop.

His eyes burst out and his face was consumed by the flames.

His very own brain was slowly cooked and began seeped out his nose and ears.

Even still, Jaune aware of it all.

Aware that once he was resurrected he’d feel every ounce of the pain.

In his last moments of awareness, Jaune had a moment.

One moment of emotion.

Hatred.

Dismay.

Desire.

And want for change.

Jaune never wanted to be in this situation again, he wanted to change and not be here anymore.

A light was born.

Inside Jaune’s empty sockets a dim light briefly existed, a light so faint it may not have existed at all, and then it was gone, as Jaune’s skull was crushed by the falling ceiling.

Then their was nothingness and darkness. Jaune accepted it as a warmth enveloped him.

“I am so sorry, Jaune. I am so very sorry. I am so sorry, I’m sorry, please, please, please stay with me. Stay strong please. I need you strong, Jaune. I can’t do this alone....I’ll never let this happen again.” Summer said to Jaune as she held his soul, Jaune unable to respond as he was deep into sleep.

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

Melanie held her sobbing sister close to her as they drove back to the club.

She’d like to say she felt bad about what happened, but she really didn’t. He was just another face to the many live she had taken.

It was an accident really, they hadn’t meant to kill the guy. They just thought from the ways he was dressed and that sword he was either a beacon reject or maybe a runaway from Signal, nothing they couldn’t handle as long as he wasn’t on Cow-Tits level, especially with the boys helping.

They just wanted to rough him up a bit and give him a bit of scare, threaten him little, that if he said a word about their warehouse that they’d kill his family or something. That usually got most people to shut up, if not, she’d have just have to get creative again.

Why he was in the Xiong Clan’s warehouse Melanie hadn’t the faintest idea, how he got in was better question as they had the best locks they could afford on their. Shit she forgot to get the locks off didn’t she. Oh well.

Anyway, It didn’t matter if that kid knew something or not, it was about sending a message.

The Xiong Clan is not weak and will not be fucked with.

And after Cow-Tits rampage, they couldn’t afford to take chance with somebody who managed to get into their warehouse.

She felt her sister stir against her shoulder and rise, showing puffy red eyes and tears. She looked a damn mess, she make sure no one saw her like this when they got back to the club, she’d take her up to their room and made sure she went to sleep.

Melanie pulled her sister against her chest and let lie there stroking her head.

“It’s not you’re fault, it’s not you’re fault Mils, and we are going to get through this together, alright?”

Miltiades said nothing but weakly nodded.

Melanie wanted to sigh, but held it back. Despite being the younger twin, she felt like she was the more mature one.

Miltiades was always the more emotional one. Not that many people would notice, considering the lack of friends and family they had. She was always the one to cry at soap operas, the one to make sure the boys were taken care of, and the first one to help anybody who got assaulted at the club, sexually or otherwise. She cared for the Club and the Xiong Clan, she was the velvet glove to her iron fist underneath. Even if she wasn’t that expressive. 

Miltiades had killed before, sure. But, it had always been in self-defense of herself or the club. Easily justifiable. That why Melanie had told Junior she’d shove his ball up into his lower intestine if he tried to rope Mils into the darker elements of the clan.

Melanie, though? She had no problems what so ever with hurting anybody for any reason, so long as it involved protecting The Xiong Clan’s interest. The Clan was her life and her blood, it was her purpose in life to defend it and her sister.

“Everything is going to be fine Mils, it’s all over, and we’re never going to think about this again.”

AN: Famous last words before tragedy struck. It got dark again didn’t it? Shit, I mean I was writing trying to think who I wanted this to go, but then I realized that these guys are criminals, and was like huh this could further my agenda. Anyway, Jaune gained his ability this chapter, what it is will be explored later. I’m using a power system similar to Zombie Knight, but modified to suit Remnant. Even though it’s just because I don’t want to look up a bunch of chemisty facts.

Next part is going to be pretty dark too

[writeanapocalae]

Power Cell Part 6

He looked at Daita again, twisting in Mephis' hold. He hated how safe he felt, how he knew he wasn't going to fall. He didn't want to fall but he knew now that he wasn't a pat of the plan, he was making things actively worse for his ward, and Daita would probably try to talk Mephis into leaving him behind if it was convenient. Daita did look like the other scientists, exactly like the other scientists, and that was why he was having such a hard time trusting them.

There were so many that Gaius had just assumed were the same scientist, that, when he saw two that were identical at once, he just thought that it was a side effect of the drugs that they kept him pumped full of. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't think of the last time they'd had to drug him. He didn't fight them anymore, just stayed as quiet as he could while they worked. He was unable to fight them off so they didn't need to keep him sedated. It was only when he was one on one with them that he'd begged for some small mercy, but that had never gotten anywhere.

There was the sound of tearing and a rumbling pounding from the door and the vent, people trying to break in behind them. The tearing though came from the circle that Daita had carved into the wall and the solid chunk of drywall and wood came free, the edges blackened and cauterized.

"This way, this way," Daita motioned and Mephis started over.

The hole was definitely big enough for Mephis' shoulders and he was the largest of them, but Gaius couldn't get through if he was being held as he was. He patted Mephis on the arm and got him to set him down, swaying and then clinging to his arm. It must have been beneficial for Mephis too, since Gaius could direct him easier this way.

Daita went through first and they shot Gaius a disapproving glance that Gaius had seen far too many times on the faces of the other scientists they shared a likeness with. He tired to ignore it as he followed them through, turning to pull Mephis through behind him. It was hardly a pull as his arms didn't have any muscles in them anymore, but Mephis barely scraped his shoulder against the wall in the process.

"What is the plan, anyway?" Gaius asked.

Daita took the circle of burned out wall and put it back in place. "You're looking at it. Kill the power, stay quiet, get out through the walls so they don't know where we are."

"That thing can get us through the external wall?"

Daita shook their head as they got up and moved to the other side of the room. The room was similar to the one that Gaius had spent the last however long in, though the long chair that reclined into a table didn't have any straps attached to it and there were a lot less machines around. It must have been an examination room or, possibly, somewhere for the more mundane experiments to be carried out.

"It prolly could but it would take way too long. We're going to get as close to the entrance as we can and then try for the actual door." They moved to the far wall as they spoke and shoved their protractor in again.

"So what, we just hope they didn't lock them?"

"I've got a keycard," Daita explained as they burned through the wall, "I did what I said I was going to do, unlike some people. I got a keycard since it looks like I work here. I'm under cover."

Gaius swayed and reached out, grabbing onto Mephis so he didn't completely fall over. He knew that it was pointless because it would only be a minute or two, but he wished that he was being carried again. He was tired of feeling like he was going to fall and he was tired in general. "Will a keycard even work? You knocked out the power, wouldn't that include the card reader?"

Daita looked at Mephis at that, eyes wide and mouth in a straight, disappointed line. Mephis looked at the ground, or really, he looked at nothing at all but the inside of his blindfold.

"Mephis?"

"I did not consider that," Mephis admitted.

"We had a plan." There was a warble to Daita's voice and their eyebrows were starting to knot, an anger that would be perfectly acceptable trying to be kept under wraps. "Why wasn't that part of the plan?"

"No one in our group has spent much time in here and there is a chance that the power going out would unlock all of the doors. They wouldn't want to trap themselves within their own walls, would they?"

"They would," Gaius corrected, "If it would keep their test subjects from escaping, they'd rather have the doors shut down. It would be a breech of security."

Daita started their one hand clapping again, with both hands, bringing them up to their ears, eyes squeezed shut as they started to rock on their feet. "You can't just say that. We had a plan! We should just give up, I can't think like this!"

Give up? That would lead to death for them and a lot of trouble for him and Mephis. He'd never had so much hope before now.

"We'll try it regardless," Mephis decided. "It would be foolish for them to have no access to emergency reserves, there's the possibility of a secondary power source that runs the klaxons and emergency lights. It could power the door as well."

"Speaking of klaxons, I am hating this racket," Daita groaned. "But fine, we'll try. I can't even think right now so just keep me moving through the motions and I'll do what I can."

They turned back to the wall and started to push, to run the vibrating point through the drywall again. There was a loud slam and the walls around them shuddered, followed by some shouts. The noise was coming from behind them though, their hunters finally breaking the door down to get into the room they had just left.

@happyorogeny

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I don't know if you've read/watched IT, but if you have, how might you think a crossover between IT and Animorphs would go? (Either IT characters in Animorphs or Animorphs characters in IT--I'd be equally interested in either)

Cassie’s hand has gone cold around the phone.  Distantly, she realizes that it’s still held to her ear.  That she has yet to move, even though the line is dead.

“Cass?” Ronnie says from the bedroom doorway.  “Honey, what’s wrong?”  He sounds scared.  More than just on her behalf.

Cassie gets calls when the truly bad things happen, before almost anyone else.  She was the first to hear about the Missouri tornado that left 143 dead.  About the domestic terrorist who blew up the Dominican-Catholic church in Arkansas.

In its own way, this is worse.  Or it has the potential to be.

“I have to get to Los Angeles,” she says, dropping the phone.  Her hands shake as she wrenches open the closet.  Drops a duffle on the bed.  Grabs clothes at random to stuff them inside.  “The town itself is an hour north, but if I fly into LAX then…”  She loses track of the sentence.  Gives up on it.

There aren’t words, she knows, to explain to Ronnie what’s happening right now.  Not her gentle Ronnie.  Ronnie has reported on active war zones.  But still he can’t know.  Not really.

“Cass, you’re meeting the president tomorrow,” he says.  “You can’t just go to California—”

“She’ll have to wait.”  Jerking the zipper shut, Cassie swings the bag onto her shoulder.  “I’ll explain when I get back,” she says.  “I love you.  More than you know.”

They send Menderash in, after an hour.  Technically it’s been an hour and a half since they patched in the civilian call to their commanding officer, but Captain Aximili was only audible on the phone for about twenty minutes.  Normally they wouldn’t intervene at all, but they’ve got a bomber exercise in less than an hour and the admiral’s on board right now.  In a way, Menderash is honored to be sent.  It’s the closest anyone has ever come — can ever come — to acknowledging him and Ax for what they are.  Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is gone, but that doesn’t mean that U.S. Navy commanders can date their captains.  Regardless of gender.

“Sir?”  Menderash sounds tentative even to himself.

Ax is staring at the far wall, back turned to the door.  He stiffens, but still doesn’t turn.  “Did I ever tell you I had a brother?” Ax asks.

“No,” Menderash says, “I don’t think you ever mentioned that.”  Which is strange, and verges on hurtful — they’ve been together for over five years.

“It ate him.”

“What?” Menderash steps forward.

“The thing that killed him.”  Ax’s voice is robotic.  Out of place with the tears on his cheeks.  “It ate his body.  No.”  He swallows, throat working.  “Not his body.  He was still alive, when it started eating.  He fought it, my friends said.  To the last.  Did so to try and save them.  He was still fighting.  Still struggling.  When it.”  A wet breath.  “It.”

“Was this… recently?”

“What?”  Ax turns, seeming to see him for the first time.  “No, of course not.  It all happened twenty-seven years ago.”

“Is that why you’ve never mentioned him before?” Menedrash ventures.

“No.”  Ax swallows again.  “It’s just that I’ve been away from that place for too long.  I began to adjust to this version of reality.  I began to forget just how bad it became, that place where we came from.”

Menderash dares to put a hand on his arm now.  To pull him close enough to get him into the light, at the very least.  “Where is that?”

“I can’t tell you,” Ax says.  “It’s too dangerous.”

“Ax…”

“I’m scared,” Ax whispers.  The admission is almost as foreign as the tears.  “I must go back there, Menderash.  I must, if I want justice for my brother, and I…”  He closes his eyes, jaw clenched.  “I’m not sure that I’ve ever been more scared in my life.”

Marco is… Honestly, Collette’s not sure what Marco is right now, just that something is definitely happening to him.  He’s ping-ponging through his office with frantic aimlessness, muttering to himself, hair flying in all directions.

“Your plane’s all prepped and ready to go,” she says.

“Collette!”  He whirls around.  “As I live and breathe.  You ever have one of those moments, when, like, reality just—”  He snaps.  “Fuckin falls away.  No, not reality.  This is not reality.  Reality is the thing that comes out of nowhere and—”  He makes a motion like an airplane zooming through the air.  “Bam!  Takes you off your feet.  Everything you thought you knew, all gone in an instant.  Because it’s all illusion.  Reality is reasserting itself, that’s what it is.  Twenty-seven years, just gone!  Like it’s all been a daydream all along.  And guess what?  Big Jake’s calling to wake you up!”  He grins maniacally.  “Have you seen my glasses anywhere?”

Collette doesn’t say but you don’t wear glasses.  She’s been in Hollywood long enough to know that there are plenty of celebrities who never wear their glasses, or retainers, or leg braces anywhere they might be seen.  She’s a talent agent who uses a wheelchair.  She’s seen it all.  “Bend down,” she says instead.

Marco whips his head forward so that she can see the top of it.  In the process, his glasses go flying out of his hair and clatter on the floor.  She hadn’t meant for him to bend over quite that hard, but at least now he knows where they are.

“Ah yes, a million thank yous!”  Marco goes scrambling across the carpet after them.

“What did you take?” Collette asks him.  She didn’t think Marco was a cokehead, but then she didn’t think he needed glasses until ten seconds ago.

“Three Xanax, half a handle of vodka, and my entire stash of pot cookies,” he declares.  “And look at me.”  He spreads his arms.

She takes his point.  He’s speaking clearly, forming full sentences.  He looks… well, not sober, but also not as though he’s had anything relaxing in the last few hours.  “Fine,” she says.  “But I’m still driving you to the airfield.”

“Don’t go,” Melissa says.  Tobias stiffens where he stands, but he doesn’t put his suitcase down.

“I don’t have a choice,” he whispers, shame and smallness.

“Don’t be ridiculous—”  She blows out a breath.  “Be safe,” she says instead.  “Be here.  Forget the past.  Let somebody else…”

“Die in my place?” Tobias asks.  This is so unlike him, to be even this angry.

“If this Jake person thinks it’s so dangerous there, why doesn’t he just leave?” she asks quickly.

Now Tobias does look over his shoulder.  “The fact that you’re asking at all…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.  He just pulls the door closed behind him, and clicks the latch into place with infinite care.

“Are you sure?” Rachel demands into the phone.

Jake doesn’t answer.  He wouldn’t be calling if he wasn’t sure.

“Fuck.”  She slams a hand against the drywall.  “Fuck.”

“You don’t have to come,” he says.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  She hangs up.

“Rachel?” Jordan says, watching wide-eyed from across the room.

“It’s nothing.”  Rachel pulls her lips back into a not-smile.  “It’s fine.”

“The thing that took Saddler… that took Tom…  It’s back, isn’t it?” Jordan asks.

Rachel hadn’t thought she knew.  Had thought her sisters believed the story about Saddler’s car accident, about Tom’s running away.

“No,” Rachel says.  “Of course not.  That’d be impossible.”

Jake doesn’t know who told David, or how.  All he does know is that he couldn’t have timed the phone call worse if he’d tried.

David’s widow’s cell phone goes off smack in the middle of his eulogy.  Her ringtone, as it so happens, is the Bee Gees’ hit single “Stayin’ Alive.”

“So.”  Marco rubs his hands together, looking around the table.  “Let the thirty-somethingth non-annual meeting of the Losers’ Club… commence!”

“Are we?” Rachel asks.  She looks around at them as well.  “Losers, that is.”

“She’s right,” Tobias says.  “Marco’s on the Hollywood A-list.  Ax-Man has, like, a dozen military awards.  I’ve got three different pieces in MOMA, Rachel’s book about… what was it, Being a Badass Bitch Boss?  That was number-one in the country for over a month.  Cassie’s freakin’ Secretary of State.  And…”  He comes to Jake, and trails off.  There’s an awkward pause.

“The county library’s still open,” Jake offers.  “In spite of the mayor’s best efforts to the contrary.”

“No kids, though,” Cassie points out.  “For any of us.  Not even David.”

“Why would we ever bring children into this world, knowing what we do?” Ax says softly.  “Oooh.  D.  Do.”

There’s another silence.  No one disagrees.

“Anyway.”  Rachel pulls them back in.  “I’m just saying, we’ve come a long way from being the kids that only hung together because no one else would hang out with us.”

Cassie was the only black kid in town.  Rachel and Jake came from the only Jewish family.  Tobias had been the odd dreamy kid with his head in the clouds, Ax the one with a tendency to repeat sounds.  Marco had just never known when to keep his mouth shut, not even when doing so would have been a survival tactic.  Small towns could be brutal, even the ones that didn’t have sadistic gods at their hearts.

But they’d found each other, entirely by accident.  And together, they’d taken on that god.  Because back then, they were too young and stupid to know just how screwed they were.

Jake outlines the grim facts.  Fourteen disappearances, two known deaths in this last year.  No adults in town paying any attention.  The local youth organization might be actively recruiting sacrifices for this thing, or at the very least looking the other way.

“So what’s the plan?” Marco asks.  “Same as last time, we all cower behind Rachel as she takes this thing on with a slingshot and half a dozen ball bearings?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”  Rachel smirks.  “Kind of.”  The smile fades.  “For a while, anyway.”

“It takes power from fear.”  Cassie cups both hands around her mug, hunching close to the fading warmth of the coffee.  “We can’t let it force us to run or hide.  We have to face it.  We have to be brave.”

“Yep.”  Marco pushes away from the table.  “Tell that to David.  Or to any of the kids who got torn to shreds.  That’s fuckin peachy, ‘don’t be afraid.’”

“We have to do something,” Jake says.  “It killed Ax’s brother.”

Funny, Cassie thinks, how they always bring up Ax’s brother, but never Jake’s.  Maybe because Alan’s death was simple, in its own way, a clear self-sacrifice.  Tom didn’t get anything as glorious as death in battle.  It ate Tom from the inside.  Sucked at and corrupted his soul until he was unrecognizable.  Not even himself anymore.  Until Rachel’d had no choice but to put him out of all their misery.  Not a clean death.  Not the kind of thing you could sum up in a single sentence.

There are other slow deaths like Tom’s, even more than the fast ones like what Al got.  David was starting to go, Tobias thinks, even before he got out of town.  One too many times he turned and ran from the thing instead of facing it with the rest of them.  Once or twice he even tried to bargain with it.  Tobias didn’t blame him, not once it’d taken David’s parents and started parading them in front of his eyes.

In parallel with those thoughts, Tobias finds himself rubbing fingertips along the right side of his stomach.  The scars faded, and yet now they’re livid again.  One shaped like an A.  One like an N.  Andy Mitchell only got through carving the D in his name before Jake got there in time to save Tobias.

Not in time to save Andy, though.  He was gone by the end of the day.  Missing, with no one left to look.  No one even to comment on his being gone.

A-N-D, carved into Tobias’s skin.  A transition.  The middle of a thought.  The only sign he’d needed, if he’d ever thought to look for one, that this thing isn’t over.  That maybe it’ll never be.

“It’s a thought-form,” Jake says.  He sounds confident.  He almost feels it, too.  Looking around at these successful adults who grew from the hopelessly awkward kids he knew, he starts to think that maybe, just maybe, they can find a way to live through this.  “So we fight it like Cassie said, just by fighting back at all.”

“Thanks for the motivational speech.”  Marco is clutching the plastic gun in both hands.  It’s a toy — and yet, twenty-seven years ago, it fired real bullets at that freak clown.  “What a day, what a lovely day to die.”

They’re walking toward the sewer entrance, heads held high.  Palms damp with sweat.  Because they have no choice.  Because it’s what must be done.

“What are you even doing here?” Tobias asks.  He’s got a baseball bat dragging at his side.  It was his mother’s.  No one knows for sure what happened to her, but then that’s true of a lot of people in this town.  No one knows, and yet some of them can guess.

“He is here because he must be,” Ax says.  “And so must we all.  Aaah-wwlll.”  That’s new, the playing with sounds.  In the sense that it’s old.  Like so much of them, it faded and then returned.

Rachel is walking close, too close, to Tobias’s side.  They keep exchanging charged glances.  All of them are regressing to childhood all over.  Or maybe it’s just that they had to become their own adults, back when they first faced this monster, and it never really wore off.

“I’m here,” Marco says tightly, “because all my life, I’ve never had friends like I did when I was thirteen.”  He laughs.  “Jesus, does anyone?”

Rachel slips her hand into Tobias’s.  On her other side, she’s holding Cassie, who’s holding Ax.  That’s the weapon, Jake thinks.  The one they’ll swing and shoot and bash at this Joker-knockoff fucker until they put it into the ground.  For good this time.  Stomp it to so many pieces that it can never put itself back together.

Jake puts the flashlight back on his belt.  Takes Marco’s sweaty hand in his, waits for the inevitable bad one-liner about buying him dinner first.

It’s enough.  Enough to hold back the darkness.  Enough to keep them alive.  It’ll just have to be, because it’s all they have.

Together, a daisy chain of madness, they plunge into the tunnel ahead.

[theycallmemoosey]

Whatever You Say, Rapp

Mitch Rapp x Reader

WARNINGS: angst, torture, mention of suicide (do not read if easily triggered - I do too, dw), mention of murder, mention of blood

A/N: First AA fic! I think I went a bit overboard with this and kinda crammed every scenario into this. Also, I am posting this in the middle of nowhere (like - near Scotland middle of nowhere) with the shittest wifi and the worst signal so I’m afraid no gif for this fic. I really hope you enjoy as I did really try with this one. Moose :)

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

“Y/N, just got a call from Hurley, he has a lead on a potential case and he wants me to check it out” 

“You want me to work my magic?” You asked, taking a bite out of a slice of leftover pizza.

“Well, I can see your clearly busy” he gestured towards the pizza, amusement on his face. 

You groaned, storming past a grinning Mitch and plopping down in front of your laptop, “What’s the name?” 

“James Walton. Owner and manager of Walton’s Insurance a few years back but just stopped turning up one day. Single, looks around 35 to 40, no children as far as we know and-“ 

“Got him. I’ll just work out his social media passwords, find out his phone number and track his most recent activity. Piece of cake” 

Mitch smiled at you proudly, stroking your hair, “You never fail to impress me” 

“Most recent activity is just down the road. Go on, kick ass” you smiled up at him, kissing him before he grabbed his phone, gun and jacket, “Wait! Mitch!” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“Earpiece” you reminded him, holding up the discrete earpiece first given to the two of you when you worked your first mission together. 

“Oh yeah, that’s kinda important” he smiled, kissing you before rushing down the apartment block stairs. 

You sighed heavily, slamming the door and grabbing the pizza box before heading back to the desk. 

“You there yet?” You asked, knowing the microphone attached to the laptop was already connected to Mitch’s earpiece. 

“No” Mitch chuckled, his voice low as he kept his profile in plain sight.

“You there yet?” 

“Don’t start this, babe. I can’t listen to you ask me that for the next 10 minutes” 

“Whatever you say, Rapp” 

You kept silent for a bit, listening to him breathe heavily, the sound of the crowd in the background. 

“You there yet?” 

“Oh my-I will destroy this” 

“By all means, but if you get in the shit, you’re on your own” you said, a mouthful of pizza.

“I love you” He chuckled, “I’m here. The cafe right?”

“Yeah. You see him?”

“No…are you sure he’s here?” 

“Most recent activity on his phone was…right there. Look harder” 

“Y/N, I’m looking!” He exclaimed in a hushed tone, aware that he was bringing attention to himself, “Can you check again?” 

“Mitch, I’m looking at the live feed right now, I can’t give you any more information than-OH MY GOD!” You screamed, the sound of crashing alerting Mitch, making him stand up and flip the chair.

“Y/N?!”

Silence. 

“Babe?! Are you there? Shit shit shit” 

Mitch sprinted back to the apartment block, gripping the gun in his jacket pocket. He burst the door open and took a sharp inhale of breath. The room had been trashed. The desk had been flipped, your computer monitors smashed, your laptop twisted, papers littering the floor. 

“Y/N? Are you in here?!” He called out, rushing to check every room, “Baby?!” 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the note pinned to the door with one of his daggers. 

“No. No, no, no” he cried, tearing the note from the door.

One step ahead of you, Rapp. I’ll give her back for a price. Catch me if you can.

“Fucking BASTARD!” Mitch roared, screwing the paper up and throwing it in any direction, punching the drywall next to him, “He’s going to fucking pay. He’ll FUCKING PAY” 

He grabbed his phone up off of the floor from when it fell out his pocket, scrolling furiously to find Stan’s number.

“Stan? He took her. The bastard took her” 

“Get here in 10” 

————————————————

“I give you one mission Rapp, and here we are with an even bigger problem” 

If looks could kill, Stan would be dead on the floor right now. 

“You sent me on that mission. YOU sent me. Because YOU sent me, SHE is gone. That Walton guy took her!” 

“He’s more dangerous than we first thought. I spoke to Irene Kennedy-“ 

“The one that set me up in this whole fucking deal? That woman?” 

“Yeah. She was able to find me another agent to help you find Y/N” 

“I don’t want help” 

“You’re gonna need it, Rapp. If this guy is as dangerous as he turns out to be, you’re going to need all the help you can get. Look, this girl has been personally recommended by the CIA, she’s clearly good” 

Mitch sighed, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “Fine. Fine. Do we have any idea where this Walton guy is?” 

“Kennedy is investigating right now. Apparently, a missing CIA ground agent is quite a big deal. Just lay low here for now while we wait for any news from HQ” Stan ordered, sitting on his desk and flicking through his phone.

“Look, this guy is a mass murderer. Fraudster. Just an evil guy. He might have his hands on my girlfriend right now. You really expect me to sit here willingly while she’s in danger?”

“Not my fault you’re in love with her” Stan shrugged, not looking up from his phone.

“This is all your fault!” Mitch screamed, his hands balled up into fists to resist the urge to punch anyone or anything nearby, “You sent me that mission! You asked me to go after this guy! Oh, and must I forget, YOU are the one that put me and Y/N in a team. You are the reason they went after her” 

“Whatever you say, Rapp”

Mitch growled slightly, making Stan look up, observing Mitch’s fuming body language, “She’s an agent too, she had just the same amount of risk being captured as any one of us. Just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t make her job any more dangerous than it already was”

Mitch breathed heavily and angrily, realising that Stan was right, “If anything happens to her, Stan…I-I just can’t lose her too. It was hard enough losing-losing-“

“Katrina?” 

Stan and Mitch both turned their heads towards the doorway, their eyes landing on a woman.

“Who the fuck are you?” Mitch spat, offended that she dared speak Katrina’s name.

“Your partner” she shrugged, pushing herself off the doorframe and heading past Mitch to shake Stan’s hand, “Sorry I’m late” 

“Well, you’re here now” he said, “Mitch, this is Rebecca Tulsa” 

“Like the town?” Mitch snarled, glaring at her.

“Good to meet you too”

“Alright. We have some intel. They tracked the van that they saw on CCTV leave your apartment garage, and it is currently on the way to…the airport” 

“The what-“

“You heard, Rapp. You guys better get your asses in gear to find out wherever the hell they’re taking her. Now, this guy is crazy rich so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re taking a private jet” 

“How are we gonna get onto the runway to track a private fucking jet?” 

“Work it out. Now go!” 

———————————

 The drive to the airport was silent, Mitch glaring at everything. 

“What’s with the anger, tough guy?”

“Shut the fuck up” 

“Or what?” 

“Or I’ll stop this car and throw you out” 

“You won’t do that” 

“Want to see me try?” He asked, his voice laced with venom, “The only reason you’re here right now is because of the fact that my superior demanded that I had to have back up. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be here right now” 

“Well, fortunately, it isn’t up to you. So you’re stuck with me” 

Mitch grumbled, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

“How did you even know about Katrina?” 

“I know everything about you” 

“You don’t know shit about me”

“Full name is Mitch Rapp, parents whereabouts unknown, only family left is your brother Steven Rapp, and the two of you were raised in McLean, Virginia. You attended Syracuse University where you majored in International Business with a minor in French. You attended college on a lacrosse scholarship, turning down a scholarship from the University of North Carolina because your high school sweetheart, Katrina Harper, was attending Syracuse with the hope of getting into broadcasting. The two of you went on a vacation to Ibiza where you proposed to her. She accepted but moments later the terrorist group-“ 

“That’s enough” Mitch warned, not wanting to replay the memories in his head.

“A year later, you graduated from Syracuse and a week later began training for the CIA, after being headhunted by Irene Kennedy. You spent years being trained by former CIA operative Stan Hurley. Since, you’ve been working multiple cases given to you by Hurley, one of which you were partnered with your now girlfriend, Y/N Y/LN. You’re fluent in Arabic, Persian, Urdu, Pashto, German and Italian. You’re ambidextrous but naturally use your left hand. You also prefer dogs over cats” 

Mitch was speechless, glancing towards his new partner, “You sure do know a lot about me” 

“I was given your file from HQ” 

“My file says I prefer dogs over cats?” 

“I did a little research on the side. Your alias’ Facebook profile, Mitch Kruse, likes a lot of posts including dogs. I know you and Y/N were also planning on adopting a dog” 

“You hacked into my facebook account?!” 

“What? Like it’s hard? Doesn’t your girlfriend do that for a living? I would have thought you had a lot more security on your accounts”

“One more word and I will put a bullet through your brain” 

“Whatever you say” Rebecca laughed, smirking at the idea that she had the upper hand.

————————————

You squinted your eyes, the bright light blinding you. As you adjusted to the environment, you tried to shout out, only to find that you had been tied and gagged to an aeroplane seat, your ears popping when you saw that outside the window, you were taking off.

“Boss, she’s awake” 

You were soon met face to face with the same guy Mitch had been trying to track down just hours ago. 

“You’re probably wondering what’s going on right now” 

You glared at him, not able to stop the single tear falling down your cheek.

“We know who you are. We know who you work for. And you will give us all the information about the CIA you can. Everyone you know who works there and what jobs you’re assigned. And we will not stop until you give us the information we need” 

You stared at him, flicking your eyes downwards to indicate towards the gag.

“Oh no, we’re not taking that out yet. Not until we’re at our final destination. You weren’t even supposed to wake up until we were there!” 

You looked at him with a confused expression, your heart racing in fear although you dared not show it.

“Bruce, please sort this girl out” 

“Yes, boss” 

The big, bulky guy stormed up to you, and after a single swipe from the back of his hand, you were out again.

—————————————

“I’m a business partner of Mr Walton, I need to know where he flew to this morning” Mitch demanded, glaring at the receptionist.

“I’m sorry, sir, but that information is classified” 

“I need to know, it’s urgent” 

“Again, sir, I can’t share that information with you” she persisted, smiling forcefully. 

Rebecca sighed, “Look, lady. We’re with the CIA. He is a wanted man and we have to know where he is going right now. If you don’t share this information with us right this second, we will take you into custody. Now, are you going to tell us where he is headed or are you going to leave this airport in cuffs?” 

The receptionist looked at Rebecca with fear in her eyes, immediately typing on her computer with a sense of urgency. Mitch looked at Rebecca surprised, making her smirk and shrug.

“Vancouver” 

“Canada?! Why the hell are they taking her to-“ 

“Calm down!” Rebecca hissed before turning to the receptionist, “I’m sorry about him. Listen, we need two tickets on the next flight to Vancouver” 

“There’s one leaving in 15 minutes. I’ll speak to security and let them know who you are and see if I can get you to the plane immediately. Do you have your CIA ID?” 

“Yes” Mitch huffed, surveying the airport.

“Great, just flash that at anyone who questions you and they’ll let you straight past” 

“Thanks for your help” Rebecca smiled weakly, grabbing her bag and running towards the gate. 

“So you just…go around screaming who you work for to any random person” 

“If it’s necessary, yes. If you want to catch this guy and get your girl back, then I suggest we get a move on” 

“You know best” he mumbled, starting to run towards the gate.

—————————————

“Who do you work for?”

“You told me you know. If you actually knew, you wouldn’t be asking me” 

James smacked your face, making you groan and twitch your jaw, the sting making your eyes water.

“I want names” 

“You may want them, but you’re certainly not getting them from me”

He laughed manically, sighing while rubbing his knuckles, “You’ve got quite a smart mouth on you, haven’t you, you slag” 

He punched you square in the jaw, making you hiss in pain and spit blood on the floor.

“Not gonna lie, you can take a punch”

“That’s what you get when you grow up with an abusive father” 

“Aw, what a sob story” he patronisingly cooed, punching the other side of your face, missing your eye by an inch, “Now are we going to get any names?” 

“You already know one” you breathed heavily, “If you knew who I was, then you know who I live with. I wasn’t quite out when I saw you pin that note up. I know you have your eye on Mitch. And I swear to god-“ 

“What do you swear?” He asked, smiling psychopathically, “What do you swear to god?” 

“You touch him, you have no chance of finding out any information from me. Touch one hair on his head, I will stay silent. Doesn’t matter how much you torture me, I won’t say a word if you hurt him” 

“You really love this man, don’t you?” 

“You will never know” 

James hummed, twisting the chair opposite you backwards, sitting on it back to front while staring directly at your face.

“Do you know who I am?”

“James Walton” you breathed, your head beginning to feel light headed.

“Everyone knows that, you silly little girl. I mean do you KNOW who I-“

“Grew up and was educated in England, family lived in Surrey and was hideously wealthy. You lived off Daddy’s money and used it to expand and branch out his business to America. You are the manager of multiple Walton’s Insurances across nearly 30 states, earning a net profit of about $20 million a year. That was, until, you had a loss of $4 million one year and you just stopped turning up to work one day"

“Enough” he snarled, jumping off the chair to pace around the dimly lit room, the only light from a flickering, industrial lightbulb.

“You’re a wanted man, both from the CIA and the FBI for both fraud and obsessive assassinations. Since then, you have participated in the murders of nearly 30 individual people, pretty much all of them being innocent people who were struggling to pay you back. You got a thirst for death and began torturing and killing people willy nilly! Not only that but you hide your true self behind the alias of James Walton, don’t you, Joseph Washington?!”

“I SAID ENOUGH!” He roared, launching himself towards you and punching you in the face until you were knocked down to the floor, “You have no right” 

“You killed the real James Walton, didn’t you?” You laughed breathily, your face in more pain that you thought you would ever endure, “You were raised in shitty government funded apartments in Chicago by two abusive parents, and you were born into no money. You spent years finding the perfect doppelganger that you could perfect becoming. You have lived most of your adult life as a fraudster. And you won’t ever stop, will you Joe?” 

He was so furious you could see his face turn red, his hand darting to grab the dagger from the table. He mercilessly stabbed your abdomen, making you scream out in pain, blood bleeding everywhere. You knew that he purposefully stabbed you in a place where no serious damage would be done, but you couldn’t feel like this was it. You just wished for Mitch to burst in the door and save you. 

“I’m being nice, Y/N…don’t piss me off”

He harshly got off of you, breathing heavily to calm himself down before heading out the room, leaving you tied to a chair, lying on the floor with a dagger in your abdomen in complete darkness. 

“Hurry up, Rapp”

—————————————

“Mitch, stop running” 

“We need to find her. The more time we spend here, the more they could be hurting her” 

“We don’t even know where he is! There’s no point just running around the city aimlessly. We don’t even know they’re still in Vancouver. We need to just lay low somewhere this evening, check all the local CCTV and work out logistically where he may be”

“I can’t waste a second here! They might be killing her” 

“They’re not gonna kill her” Rebecca sighed, exhausted and frustrated that Mitch would not slow down.

“How do you know what the hell they’re going to do to her?” Mitch snarled at her, finally stopping.

“They’re after information. You saw the note they left at your apartment, they’re after you. Knowing Y/N, she’s not going to release any information about anything or anyone” 

“Don’t pretend like you know anything about her. You don’t know her” 

“Yeah. Yeah, ok. I don’t. But if she’s anything like you, she’s tough” 

“God” he groaned, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion, “Yeah, she’s tough”

“You two are going to have the most amazing kids” Rebecca smiled, touching Mitch’s arm reassuringly.

“If we ever have any” he sighed, “You’re right. Let’s…let’s set up in the hotel across the street. We just need to find out where the fuck he went”

“I know you’re scared” 

“No, no you have no idea” he threw over his shoulder, storming out of the airport to signal a taxi.

“Actually, I kind of do” Rebecca mumbled as they got into the taxi.

“No, you don’t know what it’s like to be terrified. I’ve already lost one love of my life, I can’t lose another. She brought me joy in my life since-since I lost Katrina“ 

“Then it’s essential we get her back” she smiled. 

The ride to the hotel was silent, Mitch’s breathing heavy.

“My husband David, he…we both worked for the CIA for years. Met the same way you and Y/N did. We both went on a mission in Marrakesh and he was taken by the terrorist group we were meant to take down. He…he was killed” 

“I’m sorry to hear that” 

“I haven’t been the same since. We were planning on having kids and…buying a house and getting a dog” 

“You can still have that” 

“No” she laughed sadly, “No, I can’t. I promised him I would never love another person the same way I loved him” 

Mitch smiled sadly, “Maybe it’s time you moved on. He would want you to find someone that made you as happy as you deserve”

“Thank’s Mitch” she laughed quietly, “Maybe you’re not as cold-hearted as I thought you were” 

“I’m made of stone” he matched her laugh, “No emotions at all. Not sure how Y/N puts up with me to be honest” 

“Neither” 

———————————

“Good morning, Y/N” 

“It’s the morning?” You sighed, squinting out of one eye as the other was swollen from last night’s torturing.

“It’s been 5 days…I don’t think your Mitch is coming to save you” 

“I don’t need saving” you scoffed, twisting your hands behind your back to find some sort of comfort in the restraints.

“Oh, then please do tell, how are you going to get out of this situation?” 

“Just sleep with your eyes open” you smirked, or at least tried to.

“Do you want to know HOW I know that your Mitch isn’t going to come and rescue you?” 

You sighed and hesitantly made eye contact with him, “How?”

“Let me show you” he smiled, grabbing the closest table, and opening his laptop.

“What is that?” You asked, your eyes trying to focus on the screen on the laptop.

“That ls a live feed from a nearby hotel. Room 1804. Recognise anyone?”

You watched carefully, your heart dropping when you saw Mitch walk in the room with another woman. She was beautiful, with long brown hair and a beautifully shaped body. She was almost perfect.

“What do you want to do for dinner tonight?” 

“Um…well, just order some room service. I’m just gonna take a shower and then I’ll be right out” Mitch shrugged, throwing his duffel bag on the only double bed in the room.

“Don’t be too long” she smiled teasingly.

“What is this?” You asked quietly, not willing to believe what you were seeing.

“I think you know perfectly well what that is…do you know her?” 

“No”

“Oh, that’s funny…because I do”

“What?” 

“Her name is Lauren Bradbury. She works for me. Dear old Mitch needed some backup, so we sent Miss Rebecca Tulsa” 

“Like the town?”

“Except the REAL Rebecca Tulsa? She’s right here” he exclaimed, opening the nearby metal cupboard, a female body dropping out. 

“HOLY SHIT” you screamed, trying desperately to move away from the dead body that was laying on the floor.

“Oh look look!” The sick psychopath pointed towards the laptop, “It’s the best part!”

You shut your eyes, not wanting to see anything else that was going to break your heart. He must have noticed, as he moved around to the back of the chair to pry your eyes open, forcing you to watch. 

Mitch walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet from the shower.

“Rebecca? Did you order food?” He asked, grabbing some clothes from his bag. 

Rebecca came out from behind a wall in the room, only in her black, lacy underwear, “You can call me Bex, you know” 

Mitch stood staring at her, his breathing hitched, “O-okay, Bex”

She laughed, “Sorry, I was just getting changed into something a little more comfortable. I ordered food” 

“G-good” he stuttered, his eyes fixated on her face, trying not to look anywhere else. She smiled and stepped a few steps forward. 

“I was thinking about what you said earlier and you were completely right. I DO deserve someone who will make me happy” she whispered, placing her hand on his chest and running it up to his neck.

“Wha-“ Mitch was interrupted by her lips on his, forcefully pulling him closer towards her and dropping his towel so he was completely nude.

“MITCH!” You cried, Joesph pausing the video on the image of Mitch’s hands on Rebecca’s waist, their lips on each other. 

He tutted, “Maybe your boyfriend isn’t who he said he was” 

“He would never-“ 

“But he just did!” He rubbed it in your face, smiling at the tears falling down your face, “You don’t deserve him, Y/N. Look what he does to you. You get kidnapped and he sleeps with someone else?”

“I can’t believe he would do this” 

“You may not have believed it, but you best believe its true” 

You closed your eyes, letting more tears fall. You heard him chuckle under his breath, followed by the loud slam of the warehouse door.

——————————————

“Woah, what the fuck?!” Mitch shouted, pushing Rebecca by her waist so hard she fell to the floor, desperately trying to cover himself up with the towel that was pooling at his feet, “Was this your plan all along?!”

She laughed, “Oh, Mitchy. You really let your guard down” 

“Why are you laughing?” 

“No reason” she smiled, standing up and starting to get dressed back into some clothes, “Just how easy you are” 

“Easy? What do you mean, easy?”

“Oh that guy you’re looking for? James Walton? He’s in apartment 40 in Well’s House, two streets across from here” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I got intel” she shrugged, opening the door. It was slammed shut, making her squeal before she was flipped around, her back slammed against the wall with Mitch’s hand against her throat.

“YOU WORK FOR HIM, DON’T YOU?!” 

Rebecca laughed wheezily, struggling under his grip, “Whatever you say, Rapp”

His grip tightened and he was hissing through his clenched teeth, “Is she alive?”

“I don’t have to answer you” she struggled out, Mitch punching her in the gut.

“IS SHE ALIVE? IS SHE HURT?” 

“Hurt? Probably. Alive? Get there soon enough she may still be”

Rebecca was thrown to the floor harshly, Mitch storming over his bag to quickly get dressed before grabbing his phone, gun and jacket and heading out the door.

—————————————

“You can talk to me, Y/N” Joseph smiled creepily, wiping the dirt and blood from your cheek, “What’s the point of keeping everything a secret now? I know you’ve lost the will to live” 

“You don’t know shit. And you never will” you spat, looking at the floor, your heart still aching from what you witnessed not so long ago. 

“Y/N, you’re going to die one way or another. I did some research on you, you know. I know you were hospitalised for multiple suicide attempts. Mitch gave you a reason to live, didn’t he? What you just saw broke you inside…I know that you’re planning another attempt right now, aren’t you? Well, again, two ways you are going to die. You can talk and I will let you look at the world once more, or you can stay silent and I will just have to kill you myself” 

“Just another one to add to the list, right?” 

“If you want to look at it that way, sure” he shrugged, leaning on the table.

You sighed, knowing that you were going against your better judgement, “Fine. I’ll talk” 

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses” 

“I…my full name is Y/N Y/L/N, I am the intelligence partner of Mitch Rapp, we were trained by ex CIA operative Stan Hurley and our CIA intelligence superior is Irene Kennedy” 

“Well well well, that’s a good start” 

“I’ve got to be honest, that’s as much as I can give you. The group I trained with all probably have different names and lives. Those names are the extent of my knowledge”

“Oh” he frowned, revealing a gun from the back of his jeans, “Then I guess you’re no use to me” 

“Wait, we had a deal” you squirmed in the chair, your wrists raw from the rapes tying you to the back of the chair, “Please, I’ve told you all I know”

“It wasn’t enough. And you should know by now, Y/N…don’t trust what anybody says. It was nice to meet you” 

You began to sob as the gun was raised to your head, Joseph smiling. You closed your eyes when you heard two gunshots echo in the room, a sharp shooting pain in your shoulder. You opened your eyes when you realised that you were still breathing the same as you were, admittedly a little bit faster from the adrenaline. 

“M-Mitch?” You whispered, his devastated face breaking your heart. 

“What have they done to you?” He stepped over the body he just shot, his hand outreached to touch your face as if he couldn’t believe it was really you. 

“Don’t touch me” your voice was hoarse and dry, flinching away from his touch. 

“Y/N…” 

“If you’d like to untie me, Mitch, instead of letting me just bleed out here in this chair”

He stumbled a little bit, before rushing to cut the ropes, concentrating on not hurting you even the smallest bit. You stood up, hissing as your arm flew to your shoulder, trying to relieve some of the pain from the bullet wound. You turned to face Mitch, who stepped forward to embrace you, but you slapped him in the face.

“What was-“ 

“I saw you” you spat, your anger overcoming your fear of relief, “I saw you with that girl. Rebecca was it?” 

“Wait, what? How did you-“ he started, confusion all over his face as he tried to piece together what was going on.

“She was working with James Walton, who FYI, was really called Joseph  Washington and killed the real Rebecca Tulsa and replaced her with his own hired gun called Lauren Bradbury! YOU SLEPT WITH SOMEONE WHO WAS WORKING WITH THE GUY WHO WAS TORTURING YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” 

“I didn’t sleep with her! She came onto me!” 

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m sure she did. I WATCHED YOU!” 

“WHAT?” 

“Yeah! That Lauren installed a camera in your room and I was shown a live feed of you SLEEPING WITH HER!” 

“I DID NOT SLEEP WITH HER!” He roared, making you flinch in fear but you kept your guard up, “DID HE SHOW YOU THE WHOLE VIDEO?” 

“Enough to show me what my boyfriend was doing to the whore of a CIA agent” 

“What did he show you the video on?” He asked calmly, aware that you were still trying to recover from what you had just gone through. You pointed towards the laptop as much as you can, putting pressure back on your shoulder. Mitch stormed towards the laptop, fiddling around with the video before getting to just before the kiss. 

“I don’t want to watch this again” you said quietly, trying to keep the tears from falling. 

“Keep watching” 

You came and stood next to Mitch, hesitantly watch the scene again. 

“Woah, what the fuck?!” Mitch shouted, pushing Rebecca by her waist so hard she fell to the floor, desperately trying to cover himself up with the towel that was pooling at his feet, “Was this your plan all along?!”

She laughed, “Oh, Mitchy. You really let your guard down” 

“Why are you laughing?” 

“No reason” she smiled, standing up and starting to get dressed back into some clothes.

“Oh my god…”

“I would NEVER do that to you” he pleaded, stroking your hair back as you continued to cry, “You are the light of my life, Y/N. I wouldn’t hurt you if it cost me the entire world” 

“I thought you-“ 

“You thought wrong. Baby, I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my real life. I want to marry you and have kids with you and…you mean too much to me. You know, before I met you I had no reason to live. I tried to kill myself too many times to count. Then I met you and suddenly there was a reason to live again” 

“Really?” You asked, your hand taking his. 

“Yes” he laughed, crying himself, “I want you in my life forever and ever” 

You carefully tilted your head up to him, kissing him gently, feeling his hand on your lower back stroking you gently. 

“So this mission was a success then” you laughed against his lips, feeling him smile. He pulled you in tightly, snuggling his head into yours, placing small kisses on your neck. 

“Ow ow ow, Mitch, stop” you pushed him away, “Shoulder”

“Oh, oh shit, of course” he pulled away, leading you out towards the door. However, after taking one step your knees buckled and you began to fall, Mitch catching you just before you hit the ground. 

“Woah, are you ok?” 

“Yeah” you sighed, “Probably just dehydrated” 

“When was the last time you drank? Hell, ate?” 

“Umm…probably that slice of pizza I was eating when you left for this goddamn mission”

“Holy shit” Mitch breathed out, swiftly picking you up and carrying you out into the fresh air, knocking you out instantly. 

——————————

“Morning, sweetheart” Mitch kissed your forehead, stroking the hair out of your face.

“How long was I out?” 

“A couple days. I gave you a bath, washed your hair…not gonna lie, that was kinda tricky” he laughed, making you smile.

“Thank you” 

“Oh, and I patched up your shoulder. Managed to get the bullet out and cleaned your shoulder up. Feel any better?” 

“How many drugs am I on right now?” 

“Quite a few” 

“There’s your answer” you smirked, trying to sit up.

“I spoke with Stan, let him know that the guy is dead. Irene too. They send their love”

“No, they didn’t” 

“Yeah, you’re right they didn’t” he laughed, moving to lay next to you on the bed to put a film on.

“I love you” you whispered, kissing the hand that was interlocked with yours. 

“I love you too” he kissed your head, the sound of his phone ringing next to you. 

“Don’t answer it, don’t answer it” 

“Yeah?” Mitch said, putting the phone to his ear as he spoke to Stan.

“Damn you, Rapp” you groaned, shuffling around to try and get comfortable, even with the comfort of the muscly man next to you, who was actually surprisingly soft, as he spoke to whoever it was on the phone.

“Thanks” he shut the phone off and threw it on the end of the bed, “That was Hurley” 

“And?” 

“He has a lead on a potential case and he wants me to check it out”

“Want me to work my magic?” 

“No. You’re not going anywhere. And neither am I. Not until you’re 110% better” he demanded, tickling your side gently.

“Whatever you say, Rapp” you shrugged, scrolling through the movie selection on the TV at the end of the bed.

Mitch looked down at you proudly, “When are you going to become Y/N Rapp?”

“When you ask me”

“I’m asking right now” he smiled, making your eyes go wide and drop the remote on the duvet.

“What-“ 

“I haven’t got a ring or anything on me but that doesn’t make me want to do this any less. I never thought I could love again but ever since you came into my life, everything has just made sense. I love you and I want to show you how much I love you until the day I die”

“That could be any day from now until whenever. You know what our job is like” you tried to argue, but you were shoved gently, Mitch being careful of your shoulder. 

“All the more reason to become a Rapp before it’s too late” 

“Ok”

“Ok?” 

“Yeah” you smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently, wincing slightly at the pain it caused your shoulder. 

“You’re going to be my wife” he whispered, shocked and astounded by the idea that you could ever love him that much, “I love you” 

You smiled back up at him, interlocking your hand with his once again, “Whatever you say, Rapp”

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

TAGS

@fox-in-a-mousetrap-8 @screamxqueenx94

[lickstynine]

Oily Jace and the Smol Greasy Bitch (part 1)

A/N: Since @sickandvomiting and I are in love with our 50′s AU of Jace and Elizabeth, and equally in love with brutal whump, we decided to write the story of how Greaser Jace got his scars. I had to change the origin, since a car wreck that severe would’ve just straight-up killed him back then. Anyway, this was really fun to write, so I hope y’all enjoy reading it. Coordinating illustration(s) to come.

Jace felt like he’d been walking for about ten hours, though it had really only been about thirty minutes. Normally his long legs could’ve taken him from the bar to Elizabeth’s place in ten or fifteen, but it was hard to walk quickly when he was actively losing blood. When he’d first stood up, it had been a struggle to ignore the searing pain of several deep cuts. Now he was so lightheaded, the pain was negligible, but his ability to stand was quickly fading. It felt like he’d been trudging through miles of concrete jungle. He was about to give up and lay down in an alley to accept his fate when a familiar sight wobbled before his eyes. Just down the road, Elizabeth’s dilapidated brownstone was visible under a flickering streetlight, its telltale patches of moss and missing brick mercifully familiar.

Jace sighed in relief, sending a fresh jolt of pain through several cuts and some probably-cracked ribs. It stung fiercely, but it woke him up a bit, and he forced himself to keep walking, cursing and fumbling as he scaled the rusty fire escape. His right wrist screamed when he grabbed onto the railing, but he didn’t let go. Just two flights of creaky old stairs, and he’d be safe. By the time he reached Elizabeth’s window, he was one stiff wind away from toppling right back down the fire escape. He leaned heavily on the rail, using his good hand to rap on the glass.

“Ey! Doll face! You up?” Even in this state, Jace knew well enough to whisper. If he woke up Elizabeth’s neighbors, or god forbid, her parents, they’d both be dead.

Momentarily the curtains were drawn back to reveal Elizabeth’s face behind the glass. The grin she wore at the surprise of seeing him quickly faded, however, as she got full sight of him. Blood streamed down his face, neck, and chest, staining his white t-shirt a dark brownish red.

“Jace, what the fuck!!” she hissed, opening the creaky window as quietly as she could. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She tugged on his arm, trying to pull him into the room, but pulled away when he winced sharply.

“I… I can clue you. Kinda.” Jace climbed in the window himself, hissing, wincing, and groaning and eventually just landing face first on the ground. “Shit…”

Elizabeth jumped at the sound, and her hands momentarily flitted to his back before she stood back up and peeked out her door. Good, the hallway was clear. They hadn’t heard.

“Better get to explaining there, honey,” she whispered, closing the door as quietly as possible. She fluttered back to him and helped him to sit upright. “Thank god the floor is wood,” she muttered when she saw the bloodstain left on the scuffed floorboards.

“Sorry.” Jace tried to grin sheepishly, but it was more of a grimace. “I wasn't even tryin’ to start shit this time.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“I wasn't!” Jace cried, “I was at the bar with the guys, and there were a couple punks hangin’ out nearby... hollerin' at the bartender and just bein' assholes. Leo and Donny had to bail early, so it was just me and Aaron there the rest of the night. It's gettin' late, we're about to head out, and we hear a ruckus over on the far side of the bar. It's those punks from before. They're all over this kitten, they clearly wanna neck 'er and she is not havin’ it.” He paused, waiting for a reaction from Elizabeth. She scrunched her nose distastefully, and he continued.

“So I go over there. I tell 'em to back off unless they wanna knuckle sandwich. Aaron cut out soon as I started talkin'. You know him, he's such a wet rag with that shit. Too scared of gettin' in trouble. But anyway, so I'm tellin' these punks to leave the girl alone, they tell me to get bent and go back to grabbin' at 'er.” Again, Jace paused, and Elizabeth scoffed obligingly.

“So I yanked the closer guy offa her and decked him, and his friend lets go'a the girl to help 'im. At first I was creamin' 'em, like those two were half dead, and then outta the woodwork, like five more guys pop up to help the bastards. But I don't wanna just bail, cause what are they gonna do to that girl if I turn tail like Aaron. So I'm just tryin' to keep my head above water, and one of these nosebleeds breaks a goddamn bottle an' comes at me with it. Nearly cut my fuckin' head off before I kicked it outta his hand. Dunno what I woulda done if the bartender hadn't threatened to call the cops. Jackasses ran off, but it was already past close, so I had to cut out, too. I didn't even see where that girl got off to… I just hope those creeps didn't find her."

Elizabeth just hummed in response, at a loss for words. As he’d been speaking, she had started wiping the blood off his face and neck with a washcloth and the water from her hot water bottle. She paused and met his eyes, and cupped the uninjured side of his face with her hand.

“I’m so sorry that happened, sugar,” she said, wiping a streak of blood and sweat from his cheek with her thumb. “But hey, we match now!” She flashed him a concerned smile, and was pleased when he momentarily grinned back, though the expression quickly morphed into a grimace.

Jace shrugged, his face immediately screwing up in painful regret. “I mean… it was the right thing to do… I think. Maybe I shoulda just butted out...” He sighed, and his good hand flew to his ribs, which were aching much worse than earlier. Any last dregs of adrenaline were long gone by now, and he could feel the edges of the cuts on his chest tugging with every breath. “I'm gonna hafta borrow a shirt from Donny or somethin’... If I come home in this, Mom's gonna flip her lid.”

“Hey, no, it wasn’t your fault. People are just… like that,” she said, resuming her work on his wounds. “I would offer you one of my dad’s shirts, but it would be like me trying to wear a baby onesie,” she added with a chuckle. After a moment, she stopped again. She could see deep down into the whitish yellow viscera in some of the cuts, and while the bleeding was slowing, it wasn’t slowing as quickly as she’d like.

“You should really get to a hospital, Jace,” she murmured. “All I’ve got here is iodine, alcohol, and Rawleigh’s.”

“That should be fine.” Jace shrugged, as if he had a bad paper cut and not a couple pints of blood soaking his shirt.

“It won-” she started loudly, but caught herself and lowered her voice to a whisper again. “It won’t be fine! I can’t take care of this by myself, you need a doctor!”

Jace sighed. “How do you want me to get there, Liz? Aaron picked me up today.”

“I dunno, we could flag down a taxi or something? I don’t have any money though, and I don’t think I can very well ask my parents,” she trailed off. “Besides, I doubt any cab would take us with you lookin’ like this.”

“Yeah, I got money, but…” Jace sighed. He was wracking his brain, trying to figure out who he might be able to call. At first, his vacant gaze seemed thoughtful, but then his eyelids fluttered and he slumped forward against Elizabeth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she hissed, tapping his face. “Jace, c’mon baby, wake up.” When he didn’t respond, she held his head against the crook of her neck and stroked his hair, swallowing down the newfound panic that was crawling into her throat. “Shit!”

She pushed Jace back against the wall as gently as she could, though his head lolled back and hit the drywall with a hollow thump. She muttered an apology despite the fact that he couldn’t hear it, and stood as quietly as she could, afraid the thud had woken her parents. She listened for a moment, head cocked toward the door—nothing except her mom’s muffled snoring from down the hall.

She made her way to their living room, dancing around the creaky floorboards in a routine that was now muscle memory from repetition. She dialed the number as quietly as she could, wincing every time to rotary dial reset with a click and a metallic ring. When the operator picked up, she gave the number to Jace’s home, and silently hoped upon hope that it would be his dad answering, and not his mom.

The phone rang a few times, and Elizabeth practically collapsed with relief when Vody’s deep voice and clipped accent came through the receiver.

“Hyello? Who this?” He didn't sound angry, luckily, but he was definitely confused. Phone calls at three in the morning rarely meant good news.

“Mr. Romanovich! It’s Elizabeth. Please come to my house, it’s important. Jace is here. Please help.” The words came tumbling out in a rush, accompanied by sudden tears and a choked sob, and she found herself hanging up the phone before he could even open his mouth to respond.

Vody stood over the phone for a moment, dumbfounded as it buzzed in his ear. He could only imagine what Jace had gotten into, but he supposed now wasn't the time to worry about it. Not bothering to throw on real clothes, he simply grabbed his car keys and stepped into the boots he'd left by the front door. It wasn't cold out this time of year, and even if it had been, New York winter was about as cool as a Siberian summer. Despite being clad in only his boxers and a tank top, he strolled shamelessly out to his car, climbing in and gunning it down the road.

The streets weren't as busy this time of night, and it didn't take long for Vody to pull up in front of Elizabeth's brownstone. He parked out front and hurried up to the door, hesitant to actually knock at this hour.

Luckily, the door swung open as soon as he reached the landing; Elizabeth had been listening for him. She held a finger up to her lips and pointed to his feet, and for a moment Vody caught a glint of tears on her cheeks in the dimly lit doorway. He took off his clunky boots and she guided him deftly through the hallway, showing him how to avoid the noisy floorboards. They miraculously made it to her room with minimal sound. There, Jace had slid down the wall and was slumped sideways onto the ground, seemingly lifeless. Elizabeth clamped a hand over her mouth when she reflexively gasped, and after dashing over to him and taking a moment to compose herself, she turned to Vody.

“Please help. He’s hurt bad.”

Vody sighed quietly. He wasn't exactly fazed - he'd seen people in much sorrier states during the war - but that didn't mean he wanted to see his son torn up and bleeding to death. He didn't bother asking questions yet, crouching down to scoop Jace off the ground as carefully as possible. Jace groaned slightly, his eyelids flickering, but he slumped over against Vody's chest as soon as he was picked up. Vody stood up easily, not at all bothered by the weight. Elizabeth hurried to open the door for him, and they crept out to the car in fearful silence.

Once Jace was placed carefully into the passenger seat, Vody climbed back into the driver's, starting the car while Elizabeth hopped into the back. He finally broke the silence, as there was a rather important question to be asked.

“You know where nearest hospital is?”

“Yeah.” She supplied him with the location and the quickest way she knew to get there, and once again fell silent. Her eye was fixed on Jace, and she reached up to squeeze his shoulder. After a few moments she spoke again, this time more quietly.

“I should have called you sooner. I’m sorry. I waited too long.” A sob caught in her throat and she bit it back, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. Nonetheless, they rolled down her face and she ducked out of sight, ashamed of both her inaction which led to this situation, and the way she was currently handling it.

“Hey. You okay. You not nurse. Not trained to take care of hurt people. Freak out is normal. You try to help. That what matter. We go to hospital now. Will be okay.” Vody reached one of his long arms back to gently pat her shoulder.  

“You cold?” He asked tactfully, having been trying not to stare at her very thin nightie for a while now. “Should be blanket somewhere in back.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she said with a sniffle, pulling the worn fleece around her shoulders. “The hospital is right up here,” she added as they turned onto the correct street.

Vody went quiet again as they pulled up in front of the emergency room. He parked right there, rushing around to pick up Jace and carry him inside. The poor nurse at the desk looked horrified, hastily paging the doctor on call. It wasn't long before a stretcher appeared, nurses pushing it and a doctor hurrying alongside. Vody set Jace on the stretcher as carefully as possible, following along without waiting for an invitation as they wheeled off down the hall. He gestured for Elizabeth to come with, fully ready to fight anyone that tried to stop them.

She tagged along behind him, jogging to keep up with their quick pace. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, feeling exposed in the public hallway. She didn’t even bother to gather the ends of it off the floor, instead letting it trail behind her like a sad cape. When they arrived at the room, the nurses stopped both of them, one laying a gentle but firm hand on Vody’s chest.

“You can both stay here and watch, but you have to give us room to work,” she explained. “There’s a waiting area down the hall, too,” she added, though it was more of a suggestion than an additional detail.

“We’re staying. We’ll stay out of your way,” Elizabeth stated.

Vody nodded firmly. He wasn't going anywhere until he knew Jace would be okay. He leaned on the wall, sighing quietly as he watched nurses frantically slice away Jace's clothes and work to staunch the wounds that were still trickling blood. When the doctor got to work, Vody finally looked down at Elizabeth.

“What happened?” His voice was softer and more subdued than Elizabeth had ever heard, the mischievous twinkle long gone from his eye.

“Some punks gave him a beating when he tried to help out a girl they were harassing,” she said, her gaze never leaving Jace. There was so much blood. She reached blindly for Vody’s hand, and ended up latching onto his arm with trembling fingers. He put an arm around her, strong and sturdy. There was a long sigh followed by silence as he pondered his response. He didn't want to say Jace should've left the girl to be harassed, but he couldn't think of a better solution either. It was just a shit situation. He sighed again, low and heavy.

“Am trying to decide if I should call his mother. Obviously, will tell her either way, but... Don't know if better to go home and talk later, or call now.”

“Jace wouldn’t want her to worry,” Elizabeth replied. “He didn’t want you to worry either,” she added after a second.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Vody snorted. “He seriously think he just going to come home and pretend he fine?” He shook his head. “Too much like me.”

Elizabeth found herself chuckling along with him. “I think he really believed he could just waltz in and no one would notice a thing. He’s a real dipstick sometimes…”

Vody nodded, a smile flickering on his face. It faded quickly, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Have cigarettes in car. I go get. You stay, watch him.”

As he turned to leave, Elizabeth caught his hand and he paused.

“He’s gonna be okay, Mr. Romanovich.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “He always is. He has to be.”

Vody forced a smile for her. “He have you. That help.” He trudged off down the hall, ignoring the strange look he got from a passing nurse.

As promised, he returned a few minutes later with a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in hand, one already lit in his mouth. He held them out to Elizabeth without a word. She took one and allowed him to light it for her as she puffed, blowing a small cloud of smoke against the glass of the ICU room wall. The scene seemed to drag on for far too long, with an alarming amount of blood and sharp tools. Easily the most gruesome was an incision the doctor made between two ribs, inserting a tube to drain blood from the chest cavity. Even Vody grimaced at the sight. Between him and Elizabeth, the pack of cigarettes was quickly depleting.

Eventually, the doctor came out to talk to them. He explained that they had patched up all the cuts, but they wanted to keep an eye on Jace for a while, since some of the wounds were deep, with one having nicked his small intestine, and another puncturing his left lung. They were going to take him for x-rays now that he wasn't going to bleed out on the radiologist, and do further repairs once they knew for sure what was broken. Vody nodded along, listening closely but at a loss for words.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Elizabeth replied in his stead. As he left, she turned to Vody and grabbed his large palm. “Hear that? He’s gonna be okay.”

Vody sighed, nodding half-heartedly. “Da.” He leaned against the wall, slowly sinking down until he was sitting on the floor. It honestly looked a bit ridiculous - a giant man, smudged with blood, wearing work boots and heart-print boxers, sitting on the pristine hospital tile. He had told himself he was going to be calm. He was the father here, he had to be responsible and take care of things. At the same time, it took all his self-control to stay quiet and composed. He felt like an idiot. A failure. A fuck-up. Had he raised Jace to be too much like himself? Should he have been keeping a closer eye on his son? How the fuck did this even happen? He sighed deeply, and it wobbled as he choked down a sob.

“Mr. Romanovich?” Elizabeth questioned, hearing the slight tremble in his breath. She laid her hand on his shoulder hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“Hm?” Vody didn't dare to look up; he felt pathetic. He was sitting on the floor crying, being comforted by a little girl. The hallway was far too silent to miss his sniffles, and his face burned red with embarrassment.

Without a word, Elizabeth stepped into the now empty ICU room and rooted around for a bit before discovering a cache of blankets. She brought one out and draped it around Vody’s shoulders before sliding down to the floor next to him and resting the side of her head against his arm. Sniffling quietly, he patted her hair in silent gratitude.

“He’s okay,” she whispered. It felt as though any sound in the quiet hall would break the thin barrier keeping their emotions at bay, and she closed her eyes as the words dissipated against the white walls.

Vody kept a sturdy arm around Elizabeth, awake and alert as much as he didn't want to be. He was too on edge to even consider spacing out - it felt like if he blinked, he might open his eye to a doctor leading them down to the morgue. Of course, that wasn't the case, and after a while, a nurse came to talk to them. She explained that they'd found several breaks, but luckily, none were compounded. They'd had to put screws into Jace's wrist, since he'd fucked up the alignment of the bones pretty badly (likely trying to climb the fire escape), and they wanted to keep a close eye on his ribs, to make sure they didn't interfere with the healing of his lung. Despite this seemingly endless list of awful news, she assured them that Jace was expected to recover completely; he would just need care and rest for a while.

“He’s stable now, I can take you to his room if you like?”

Vody nodded, scrambling to his feet and helping Elizabeth up as well. He hurried after the nurse as she guided them to a simple patient room. Jace was sprawled out on the bed, his lanky legs mere inches from drooping off the edge. His wrist was wrapped heavily in plaster and bandages, and his arms and torso were covered in fresh stitches, including particularly nasty gashes across his left pectoral and below his navel. The tube was still in his chest, and he was attached to a delightful assortment of monitors to track his vitals. The entire right side of his face was covered in bandages, with a long line of stitches and a patchwork of bruises on the other cheek.

Vody couldn't help cringing at the sight. Somehow this was almost worse than the gorey mess earlier. Maybe because he could no longer tell himself it was just the blood everywhere that made it seem so bad, or maybe because he'd never seen Jace look so weak and vulnerable. It felt wrong, and Vody couldn't help feeling responsible. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but hesitated, not wanting to jostle Jace or mess up any of the equipment.

Elizabeth had no such anxieties, and rushed to his side. She brushed a strand of hair off the exposed side of his face, fingers tracing along his brow, then down his jawline. They lingered momentarily on his lips, and she smiled sadly when she felt his warm breath on them. It reminded her that he would be okay. Jace stirred slightly at her touch, letting out a soft groan. Vody perked up at once, watching them closely.

“Jace?” she whispered. “You awake?”

Jace's eyelids fluttered, and he squinted against the bright hospital lights. His vision was hazy, but the massive mane of dark curls hovering over him was unmistakable. “Hey, doll face… how goes it?”

“Oh, just peachy,” she replied with a chuckle that ended in a stifled sob. Tears began rolling soundlessly down her cheeks as she took his face in both hands and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” she added, voice thick with emotion.

“Didn't miss it as much as I thought I would. Shit hurts.” Jace was trying to be light-hearted, but even faking a smile made him grimace. He patted the mattress beside him with his good hand. “C'mere, there's space for your skinny little ass.” That brought a more genuine smirk out of him, followed by a grunt of pain. Every movement seemed to hurt, even just talking. “Christ alive, they got any drugs in this quack shack or do I just get to sit here suffering?”

“You’re already on enough to send any of us normal folk to cloud nine,” she said, hesitating and shooting a glance in Vody’s direction. “But you’re a pretty big cat too, so you can probably handle some more. I’ll go get the nurse, leave you two alone for a moment.” With a quick pivot, she scampered away, leaving the room in a breathless silence as Jace’s good eye focused slowly on his father.

“Shit.” Even as he'd realized he was in the hospital, Jace had still naively hoped his parents hadn't found out. He was clearly panicked, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself. “Okay so, ya see, the thing is-”

Vody cut him off. “Hush. Miss Lizbeth told me everything. You think I'm mad at you, Jason?” He was almost laughing as he said it.

“Well… kinda?” Jace admitted. He didn't even have a good reason for why. He'd just assumed that going out, being rowdy, and getting into trouble meant his parents would be pissed.

“Did you start fight?” Vody asked plainly.

“Not really… I mean… I threw the first punch, but I was just tryna get those creeps offa that poor girl!” Jace tried to sit up, naturally getting animated as he defended himself. He promptly fell back on the pillows with a grimace.

“Then why would I be mad?”

Jace paused, looking up at his father for a moment as he thought. “...I dunno.”

Now Vody couldn't help laughing. “Too much my son, you are…” He plunked down on the foot of the bed, patting Jace's knee gently. “I not mad at you. Was worried, of course. But I not mad. Your mother…” Vody sighed, knowing Serafina likely wouldn't be happy about Jace getting in a fight, even one most people would consider justified. “I will talk to your mother.”

Jace cringed. “Do you have to tell Mom?”

Vody snorted. “Well, yes. How am I explain broken hand and stitches face?”

“...right. Good point.” Jace sighed. He really didn't want to have to talk to Serafina, even if Vody talked to her first. He got distracted from his worries when Elizabeth walked back in with a nurse, who approached Jace with another syringe and inserted it into his IV tube.

“Just a little more morphine. We don’t want to go overboard,” the nurse said with a small smile, which Elizabeth returned as the nurse left the room.

Jace visibly relaxed as the meds hit his system, and Elizabeth found herself laughing. “Naturally, you beat up some goons, get totaled, and end up high as a kite on the good stuff.” She took his hand in hers, careful to avoid the bandages and stitching. “Fucking beatnik.” She raised an eyebrow when he smirked at her, no longer wincing at the movement.

“Look,” he grinned, “this wasn't how I planned to spend my Friday night. The beat life chose me.”

“It's Saturday morning. Has been for while now.” Vody chimed in.

“Shit, is it?” Jace looked at his wrist as if he ever wore a watch.

“Da. Sun came up hour ago.” Vody confirmed.

“Ah, shit…” Jace smiled apologetically at Elizabeth. “Sorry baby. Normally, I try to make our all-nighters a little more fun.”

“Jace!” Elizabeth hissed through clenched teeth and leaned in conspiratorially. “Your father is in here with us, shut up!” She flashed Vody a sheepish smile and clamped a hand as gently as she could over Jace’s mouth when he started to speak again.

Vody just chuckled. “Your secret safe with me. He not get habits from his mother.” He sighed. “Who I probably need go talk to. Wish luck.”

“Slay the dragon!” Jace encouraged, muffled by Elizabeth's hand, who flashed Vody another apologetic grin.  

As soon as Vody left the room, Elizabeth whirled on him in mock outrage.

“You knucklehead! Sayin’ shit like that in front of the old man,” she muttered, climbing up onto the bed with him. “You really are the most, aren’t ya?”

“Baby, I'm more than the most.” Jace grinned, slinging his less-damaged arm around her. “Like your nightgown, by the way. Meant to tell ya earlier, but I was busy… y'know… bleedin’ out.” He laughed, drowning in far too much morphine to be worried about his mortality.

She curled into his chest with a snort, tactfully avoiding his more grievous wounds, and gently kissed his collarbone before laying her head down and falling silent, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

“You really scared us, you know,” she said finally. “Us meaning him too. He was terrified.”

Jace snorted derisively. “You're pullin' my leg. I've never seen Dad scared.”

“Really, babe. Like, really really.”

Jace furrowed his brows, seeming to be in serious thought for possibly the first time ever. He didn't say anything for a while, then quietly ventured, “How bad do I look?”

“Like how I imagine someone might look after a tiger attack. Which is to say, pretty damn bad.” She fell silent for a moment, then quietly added “Scary bad, honestly.” Her hand trailed slowly along the edge of his bandages, mapping out the new tracks it would have to follow.

Jace cringed. She hadn't even tried to sugarcoat it - it was too bad to bother. He'd been considering asking for a mirror, but now he was honestly afraid. “Oh… shit.” As stupid as it was, he couldn't help being more worried about his appearance than his health. Cuts would recover. Good looks… not so much.

Elizabeth lifted her head to face him, and found his eyes darting down to assess the damage for himself, slight panic beginning to show in his face when he saw exactly how many injuries there were, their centers stained a deep browning red.

“Hey, don’t do that. Not yet,” she said, lifting his chin with two fingers and tilting it toward her face. “Not yet…” She smiled sadly when his good eye finally focused on hers, and she kissed his brow. Jace tried to force a smile, but it didn't stick. He wasn't sure if it was the stress or the drugs, but he was struggling to focus. Thoughts were spinning around like a whirlwind in his head, and the bed no longer felt steady beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut with a tense sigh.

“You’re okay, baby,” Elizabeth said, rearranging herself so that his head could rest on her chest instead. “I’ve got you.” She carded a hand slowly through his hair. The nurses had washed the blood and product out of it to get him cleaned up before the surgery, and it was soft under her hand.

“Just sleep. We’ll deal with whatever comes up tomorrow. For now, just sleep.” She continued her gentle ministrations, and when his good eye remained wide open, head spinning with endless possibilities, each less desirable than the last, she started humming. Gently, sweetly. A stupid little song that they’d heard in a jukebox when they first met. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut as the morphine made the thoughts indecipherable and he stopped trying to think, and stopped trying not to think. Instead, he just let himself be, and feel Elizabeth’s hands in his hair, the warmth of her body, and sound of her voice. And eventually, he was lulled into a deep but peaceless sleep.

[fedoranonymous]

Had a dream that I think would actually make for an original take on the whole zombie apocalypse thing. Or rather, vampire apocalypse? Because the big thing was that the monsters didn't care so much that you made noise, but they COULD hear your heart rate.

So, the iyashikei zombie apocalypse story.

The white haired anime man that is my character/protagonist is digging through a library shelf that is just.... Cluttered as hell, noting that two harry potter box sets have appeared, so he isn't the only one who's running out of storage space and has started returning/donating thing to make room. Of course protag-kun is keeping himself to just what he can carry (the better to nope out of situations that seem even slightly stressful) so he returns books frequently, and between that and the absolutely GORGEOUS boxed lunches he brings by every day, the crazy cat lady who has taken over as librarian adores him. The cats leave the books alone and are cute, so protag-kun sees this as a win for everyone, even if allergy meds are basically impossible to find anymore.

I've already told you the twist, but this part of the story is supposed to be a "building up the mystery" vibe. Hell, an actual book would probably have the zombies on the front cover and still have the vibe I'm talking about, so you're getting the full experience.

Dude tends to his garden, forcibly calming himself and gently ushering some detached ghoul hands out of the brush like someone with a fear of spiders catching and releasing a spider, setting up a wood burning stove because the gas is untrustworthy, etc. He pours a lot of himself into cooking and food related activities not just because #survival but also because he clearly takes pride in it. Sometimes he does throw away pots instead of cleaning them, because without modcons like degreasing dish soap some things aren't worth the effort.

This is how he meets Cute Anime Girl protagonist, a homeless girl who is apparently so out of the loop she doesn't understand why the dumpsters aren't being filled. Protag-kun asks about the soup kitchen, because that's where he takes half of his leftovers -- the fridges are on for now, but even so, he does a LOT of cooking in the summer -- and Ready Made Waifu says that's for people who are "really suffering".

She's about to get on her soap box about it and that would be No Good so Protag-kun calms her down pretty quick by getting her to "volunteer" instead. He starts to wonder if she's out of the loop or just deluding herself.

He purposefully takes her down a path through an overgrown park where he knows there'll be some ghouls chasing squirrels -- small animals tend to have faster heart rates, so most humans are fine during the day as long as they take it slow and steady.

She reacts with genuine fear, which honestly doesn't tell him a damn thing. He gets her to calm down though and as they pass through the park he very very calmly walks her through what he knows: that they're attracted to high heart rates, that a lot of utilities are shut down due to lack of people to run the places -- even he volunteered to help safely shut down the nuclear reactor back in the early days -- that people need something to DO and so they hang out here -- a charitable kitchen that he keeps charitable.

A LOT of the people bring him things they made or found before they take a plate but it's only the books and the dutch oven that get a twinkle into his eye -- nothing more, he can control himself that much, thanks.

The third protagonist is introduced after a time skip of sorts -- there's only so much time in a night to dream. I think Ready Made Waifu's anxiety got them into some trouble?

They wake up in some dude's apartment with blurry memories and, well, when you're a girl on the streets for any length of time, this is Fear #1 so she's not calming down at all. Protag-kun eventually lets her lock herself in the bathroom in the hopes she can calm down, and decides to barricade the door for his own peace of mind. Then, of course, he realizes he needs to use the bathroom himself. He snoops around for a bit but apparently our dude locked the master before heading out.

Protag-kun knocks on the bathroom door and rmwaifu clearly cries out in distress. After sliiightly more frantic pounding on the door, she opens it and is very clearly having a good ass cry over the whole situation. Something about the way Protag-kun says he can't hold it anymore prompts HER to piss her pants and he switches gears into mother hen mode just as there's a knock at the door.

The owner of the apartment is apparently Oliver Queen from Arrow lmao. He says some "Locking me out of my own home? You have a way of making a man's blood boil." In a way that's clearly a threat based on the whole vampocalypse thing, so at least we're not having a repeat of that.

Grim hawkguy points out the the ghouls clearly have the strength to tear through drywall and protag-kun points out that the extra peace of mind is worth it for anyone who can't afford to have a pacemaker put in -- and apparently is right on the money. Once they're locked in, protag-kun announces his intention of burning rmwaifu's clothes, since apparently despite the time skip these are still the clothes that she slept on the streets in. Maybe I'll change it so they got covered in compost? Or this isn't that much of a time skip, just the good parts lmao.

Anyway, Protag-kun asks if grim hawkguy has like at least a pair of drawstring pants for her to borrow and he comes up with a fairly cute casual women's outfit that's only like a size too big. Apparently protag-kun saw the heart medication but didn't see the family photos.

Grim hawkguy has a wife and two sons, all of whom were out on a hunting trip without him when things got too real. He couldn't go because he was still recovering. There's no reception on the mountain so he couldn't contact them before the cell networks were shut down, and it's been too Long since they were supposed to come back. Hopefully they're just staying safe up there.

So we've got a hunter and a gardener-chef and a cute little mascot girl, I guess we're going restaurant/resort theme? I mean, keeping people relaxed is gonna be the number one key to survival in this setting, and I'm definitely feeling themes of people being inherently creative without the profit motive and like compassion being a survival niche and community as a self sustaining end goal type stuff. Could be a cool novel or comic. I might even have the right resources to turn this into a puzzle rpg. No one's burnt out on crafting systems yet, are they? XD