#like just put me out of my misery if any one of those little fuckers seem like i might like them

[lecliss]

I just got shown a h@zb1n character and told she has "Eddie's favorite" written all over her and I think I'm gonna kms fr bro

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

“ Don't worry, you're safe now.” || Homicidal Lui

Pairing : Yandere! Homicidal Lui X Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst, Yandere

Summary : In which insane meets broken.

Wordcount: 2k lol

WARNINGS : Yandere ;), someone dies but it's not very gore or sum, he's already insane, but in here he loses even more sanity, abusive household.

Headcanon

Aight so to start it off, you didn't know Lui before he developed Sully

Or knew him in general, that you didn't either

You met Lui in a very odd way.

You met him at the drugstore, simply because you needed toothpaste and he needed whatever.

At this moment Lui was Lui, not Sully who tended to take over control more than what was supposed to.

You had accidentally bumped into him  in one of the aisles, and unlike most people who'd stop to stare at his face, you simply apologized and went on with your life.

This of course is the most normal action for basically every humane person, but for someone who was looked down upon due to his facial features and his silence, it was the start of something.. 

That might be growing into one big disease.

How Sully met you was in the most stereotypical way, he had simply come to kill you, not knowing who you are.

Sully had never been very picky on who to kill, he simply broke in, outed his frustration, and left.

That was the original plan with you too, at least for Sully's part.

Until he was straddling you, knife pressed to your throat, and realized you were actually very much awake.

You weren't screaming at him to get off, yet he could see the fear in your eyes.

Maybe it was because his hand was on your mouth, and so he decided to play a little.

And so took his hand off, yet you still didn't scream.

After a moment of doing nothing, he sat back, rather calmly, placing his full weight on your body and looked at you curiously.

Much to his confusion, you didn't really react, just keeping eye contact, fear filling up your irises even more

" Ar- aren't you g-going to kill, me?" You ask him in a shaking voice, unable to keep yourself from stuttering.

By the sound of your voice, Sully switches forcefully into Lui, and you can only watch in fear and confusion what's happening around you.

Because it does look rather terrifying, a man first sneaks into your house, and is suddenly at you with a blade in your neck, and as you speak, he throws himself off you, and is now holding his head in his hands, blade fallen to the ground with a loud sound.

You flinch as the unknown male to you also drops to the ground, mumbling to himself.

The sound of his knees hitting the ground must've been loud, because soon after the hallway lamp is turned on, and you hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

And then you're shaking Lui, and you're telling him to hurry up and leave, apologizing along with it.

By the sound of even more in your stuttering voice, even Sully becomes quiet.

And so Lui actually takes the moment to study you.

Now with the dull light from the hallway, you appear to be injured.

He's not sure how bad it is, but there's blue and purple spots dancing all over your skin.

Underneath your thin white shirt, he can even spot a very nasty black one, and suddenly he spots the scars on your arms too.

He's brought back to the scene in front of him when your voice has turned into panic as someone tries to open the door to your room.

He doesn't even process what he's doing before he's pushing his knife, which he had picked up from the ground, into your hands.

" You need it more than us."

And then he's gone, trough the window into the streets.

You flinch when your father opens the door, knowing what you're in for.

He returns to your room the next night, not sure as to why himself.

He's left disappointed when your room is empty, tough his knife, which he had left behind, is clean and on the pillow, on top of a paper.

Upon picking it up, he realizes it's a note.

' I'm not sure if you'll ever come back, but here's the knife you left behind, you told me I'd need it, but I really don't.' 

He looks around the room, spotting a pen in the corner on the ground, and decides to write you back.

' what's your name?'

The next night he returns again, hoping he'd get an answer.

Instead, he's met by an empty bedroom once again.

He doesn't know why, or how, but for the first time in a while, he feels disappointment spread in his chest

Due to Lui feeling a little down, Sully's easily able to take over, and he walks them into the forest.

Sully doesn't know why either, but suddenly he's in a part of the forest they're not familiar with.

And then he hears the sound of a twig breaking behind him, and he's turning around.

He's shocked to find you standing there.

He can see the fear in your eyes, but is surprised to see that there's less of it than last time he saw you.

Your posture is also relaxed, and then he realizes, you're not afraid of him.

He's not sure on how to feel by that.

" My name's Y/N." You tell him dryly.

He's blinking, not sure what you mean, before he's stumbling again, switching back to Lui by the sound of your voice.

" I'm- I'm Lui, he was Sully." Lui stutters.

You turn your head at him in curiosity.

" He? Is there a voice in your head?" You ask him, tough it doesn't sound like you're mocking him, simply asking him a question.

" Ah, no. I have a split persona." He tells you, somewhat awkwardly.

" What's that like?" You ask him.

By that simple question alone, you've made him feel human, like a guy his age.

Sully doesn't like it one bit, this feeling you're giving the both of them.

The three of you end up meeting near the forest for the next few weeks.

Over those weeks, Lui and Sully get to know you better.

And get to know Lui too, tough Sully keeps himself shadowed.

He's always in the back of Lui's mind, of course, whenever you're around, Lui feels like Sully's just, closer.

He doesn't know why, and he's worried about that.

It's not until you don't show up unannounced like usual, that Sully makes an appearance again.

She might not want to see us today, Sully, maybe we should give her space. Lui tells his other persona.

She's ours, Lui, can't you see that? And we can just call it a visit, she can tell us off if she wants. Sully tells Lui, who's still not into the idea.

We're going. And with that he takes control.

Once they arrive, Sully's happy to have taken control over the situation.

The moment he hears your voice he freezes.

The sound of it isn't melodic and relaxed, instead, it's trembling and weak.

Sully doesn't like it.

He originally didn't plan  to intervene, but when the sound of something breaking reaches his ears, he's quick to check it out.

The scene in that greets him makes the already burning fire rage on even worse.

Because a few meters away from him, at the other end of the hallway is where you are cowering in front of an older man, who's got a broken bottle in his hand, glass shards around the two of you, and your arms in front of you to protect you from, what must've been, the blow which the whiskey bottle had given you.

Sully's not the only one who's seeing red.

Kill him. 

It's Lui who's giving out the command this time, to end this man's life.

But then you see him and you're quick to run to him and pull him away from the scene.

Sully blushes at the contact your skin makes with his.

" I'm sorry you had to see that. Are you okay?" You ask him tenderly.

He blinks at you.

You were the one who received the blow, there's a thin trail of blood trailing down your arm, and you're standing in shorts in cold weather, yet you're asking him if he's okay?¿

" Who was that fucker?" He asks instead, not even bothered to ask if you're okay.

Because he knows, no matter what your answer is, you're not.

" My father. But, it's not his fault. He- he was drunk." You tell him softly, truly not meaning your abusive father any harm.

" Tch." Sully doesn't even say anything before he shrugs his jacket off and unceremoniously dumps it on top of your head.

" Wear it. It's cold." He tells you, acting like some kind of low budget tsundere.

" So you're Sully?" You ask him.

That catches him off guard.

" How did someone as dumb as you know?"  He asks you.

" I'm not dumb. And Lui usually blushes a lot more." You tell him, putting his jacket on.

Sully's lowkey impressed by the answer, and your attitude.

And so you finally get to know him too.

It takes a lot of convincing, but at the end of the day, your father lives.

Over the next few days, you grow even closer with the two of them.

And subconsciously, Sully becomes a little too fond of you.

It's during the daytime one day when Sully and Lui talk about this feeling both of them have for you.

It doesn't take a long conversation, and they decide to confess to you that night.

However, they're left disappointed, and angry, as you turn them down.

Lui thinks it's because of his scars, while Sully thinks you're feeling too bound down by your father.

The real reason ( and the one you've told them) is that it's because you simply don't like him that way.

The next few nights they don't show up, which leaves you disappointed.

You're not aware of the big, bloody mess you've created.

After a few toughs , Sully comes with a suggestion to make an end to your misery, and to free you from your father's abusive hold, permanently.

Lui is at first against this, after all, you did tell him to not do that, but after some persuasion of Sully, he's in too.

That night, they show up at your house, greeting you by stepping in trough the window.

You're not the first house they're 'visiting' that night, and so you start to cry when you see him all bloodied up, sharp eyes telling you that he's nit here for a visit.

Your first tough is that he's come to kill you, because you turned him down of course.

However, as he spots the tears escaping your eyes, he's quick to come to your side and hush you.

" Don't worry sweetheart, we've come to free you."

And then he's walking into the hallway, and moving to another room.

You're quick to understand his intentions.

He's come to kill your father.

The first two rooms he checks out are a fail, one being the bathroom and one being a study.

However, Sully is annoyed when you stand in his way, trying to avoid his kill.

You're a little stronger than you look, and manage to keep him off the other male in the room for a while.

While Sully initially did not want to hurt you, he decides against his own decisions, and knocks you out with the hilt of his knife.

You hear him mutter something along the lines of " Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." 

When you wake up again, you're placed on an uncommon bed, Lui, or Sully, at your side, softly looking over you with a crazed look in their eyes and a sickly sweet smile.

" Don't worry, we're safe now."

A/N: Tell me what you think about this writing style, and what I can write better ;). Also, Creepypasta requests are still open.

[imaginesmai]

Tom Holland - True love kiss

This is long, this is perfect and I’m dying of fluff right here. Am I using my denial of Endgame in this fic? Yes. Tony, Peter and Morgan as a family was what we deserved. Enjoy!

Plot: “I tricked your little sister telling her Ursula has stolen my voice because I have a massive hangover, and now we have to kiss in order not to break her innocence”

or

Au were Tom works in Disney store, has a massive headache and can’t talk, and now he has lied to a little girl and she wants to get him a ‘true love kiss’; which happens to you, her older sister and Tom’s highschool crush.

“Dude, you look like shit”

Tom raised his head from where it was resting against the counter and gave Harrison the biggest glare of death that he could muster in his condition. The boy just returned a cheeky grin.

“Rough night?”

His head was pounding, his throat was dry, and more than anything at that point, Tom wished that the ground would just open up and swallow him whole, and put him out of his misery. When he had woken up that Sunday morning to his alarm blaring, his first instinct had been to call in sick. But after a few minutes of lazing around buried in blankets, his sense of guilt had kicked in, and with a groan, Tom had dutifully risen from his comfortable position and went in for his shift at the Disney Store.

There were some days when he cursed the fact that he had taken up the offer; so far away from his home, with shift too early in the morning. Normally, he swallowed the whines and put on a fake smile for the excited kids that ran around as soon as it opened. As soon as he closed his eyes again, Tom knew it was one of those days, where he would have to search deep inside the excitement to not to frown to those kids.

Last night, he had had the perfect idea to go to a party. His brother had begged him to go, and since the fucker didn’t have to work next morning, he kept Tom awake until the sun rose. He drank, he had fun and maybe flirted with a blonde – although he wasn’t sure. Then, he threw up in the toilet, drowned in headaches and swallowed the pills for the hangover.

And the worst part of it, was that last night activities involved yelling and laughing, and it had resulted in the morning’s hardship; his voice was practically gone, and all that was left was a pretty sore throat.

Tom let his head flop back against the counter, but raised his hand in a rude gesture for Harrison’s remark.

“Boy, are you grouchy when you’re hungover” he teased. Harrison stood, stretching his arms as prepared to leave, probably heading to his own job at the Nike store on the other side of the mall. “See you later, Tom”

Tom just made some recognition noise from the back of his throat.

The store was fairly quiet for a Sunday, something Tom was thankful for. There were a few kids roaming around, but a quick glance told Tom that his co-worker could more than handle it. Sometimes a break from dealing with customers was nice too. He spent the next couple of hours working at a relaxed pace, stocking shelves and making sure the displays were all neat and tidy.

“Hi, mister!”

At the sound of the sweet voice, Tom looked down to see a young girl standing next to him, giving him a wide toothless smile, and looking as cute as can be. Her hair was tied up in two braids, and she was dressed in a sparkly blue Elsa princess dress; if he had to say, she wasn’t older than four.

Tom smiled warmly at her and waved hello. He then lifted his eyes from the little girl and glanced around, frowning slightly when he noticed she was alone.

“Mommy and daddy are next door buying some diapers for our new baby brother, with my big big sister” she explained when she saw Tom’s questioning gaze. “They said we could wait here until they are finished. My big brother is over there looking at the Star Wars toys”

Tom looked over to where the girl was pointing, and sure enough there was a boy about sever, busy looking excited over the new Star Wars Millennium Falcon Lego set.

“Mommy said I can pick a toy for the new baby” the girl continued. “Can you help me get that Olaf? It’s too high and I can’t reach it”

Tom smiled and grabbed the plushie toy that the little girl was pointing at. His muscles screamed at him when he stretched his arm, but he didn’t mind; from the corner of his eye, he could see the little girl bouncing up and down. The smile on her face became even wider once he passed it to her, and she hugged the snowman to her chest. Tom chuckled soundlessly, and brought a hand to his throat. Maybe it was time for another glass of warm milk. Sure on the café down wouldn’t care.

“Thanks, mister!”

Swallowing down the hurt from being called mister for the second time one a day, Tom grinned and gave her a thumbs up. The girl’s expressions suddenly became concerned and she looked at him inquisitively. She tilted her hear slightly and a little furrow between her eyebrows formed as she stared at him intensely.

“Can’t you talk?”

Tom’s lips twitched and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. He couldn’t tell to a little girl that he couldn’t talk because he had screamed every bit of the songs of last night, and that, combined with cheap vodka, wasn’t a good choice. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and pointed to his throat, shaking his head. The girl’s eyes widened.

“But why can’t you talk?”

Probably, if her parents would have been around she would have been scolded for asking such a question. But they weren’t, and Tom thought there wasn’t anything wrong with enjoying the attention that kid was willing to give him

Quickly, he took his notepad that was sitting by the cash register and wrote something down. He held it out to the little girl. She glanced at it, frowning cutely when she couldn’t make out any of the words he had written. Like if they were in a TV show, the girl closed her eyes tightly and yelled out for his brother. Tom almost jumped on his place from the strength and volume of that little girl voice.

A boy with short brown hair and a pout made its way where Tom was.

“What’s wrong, Morgan?”

“Peter!” the girl turned around, shoving the paper to his brother’s hands. “He can’t talk! Something is wrong! Can you read what he wrote?”

“My name is Tom” the boy read it out loud, giving Tom a weird glance. He looked then to his sister, who was looking at him as if he was reading the secret to immortality. “I can’t speak because – uh, because Ursula the sea, witch? Stole my voice, but I’m happy to assist you”

Morgan let out a gasp and, if possible, her eyes widened even more. She clutched Olaf even tighter to her chest, looking devastated at Tom’s predicament. Peter, on the other hand, didn’t look quite as convinced, looking at Tom doubtfully. Still, he didn’t say anything.

“I know how we can get your voice back!” Morgan tugged on Tom’s hand, and smiled brightly at him. “We need – We need to find your true love! You need true love’s kiss!”

“I don’t think that would work, Morgan” Peter announced. He didn’t sound too convinced, but Tom could see that his little mind was trying to work around the lie yet. “How do we even know Ursula is real? We’ve never seen her”

“Of course it would work. It worked with Ariel!” Morgan began pulling Tom around, giving a hard glare to his brother. “Ursula is very tricky. She could be hiding in plain sight and you would never know! Do you have a true love, Tom?”

Honestly, the boy was having more fun than at the party last night. Tom shook his head and allowed the girl to begin dragging him around the store, stopping after taking just a few steps. He watched as Morgan surveyed their surrounded, Peter watching too even if he tried to hide it. There weren’t much people on the store, just two couples and their children.

“We are going to find your true love. Everyone has one!” Morgan seemed convinced; and his brother didn’t seem to need much more, since he had a excited smile too.

“Maybe we can go to the food court!” Peter chimed in, now completely caught up in the situation. “There’s always lots of people there!”

The idea of the two children leaving the store with him made him pale. As harmless as he thought his little joke was in the beginning, he clearly hadn’t thought things through. If he was seen with two kids on the mall, if the parents saw him with their kids, he could be in so much trouble he didn’t want to think off. Even if the kids hand bright expressions on their faced, Tom thought it wouldn’t hurt to force his voice one more time to avoid being fired.

Before he could cough out the rawness of his throat, another voice appeared.

“Morgan! Peter! Time to leave!” a man’s voice echoed through the shop, and Tom let out a relieved breath. Both kids looked extremely disappointed as their father appeared and beckoned them towards him. “We’re gonna grab some lunch – your mother is already waiting for us at the food court with Y/N”

The siblings looked at each other with glee, and Morgan let go of Tom’s hand to run to his father.

“Daddy! Daddy, Tom has to come with us! We need to find his true love!”

The man, who had dark sunglasses on and the same brown eyes than his kids, gave Tom a confused look. And Tom understood; kids brought home stray cats or dogs, not full grown men to look for their love. However, the man didn’t seem to react in a scandalous way, just tightened his tie and let his son speak.

“Ursula stole his voice” Peter added. “We have to help him get it back!”

“Please, daddy! Can he come? Can he come?” Morgan jumped up and down, begging. Cooper walked forwards too, and started to fill the man’s cheeks, covered by a black goatee with kisses.

“Morg, honey” the man began slowly, pushing his kids away. “Uh, this boy had to work, he can’t just up and leave. He has responsibilities here. What do we day about responsible, Pete?”

“That it’s important” Peter answered, pouting.

The man gave a whole speech that had Tom with wide eyes; even if he wasn’t specially tall, or strong, he held a determination in his voice that he hadn’t heard in anyone. After promising that Tom would be okay without a voice for another week, since they would come back just for him, the kids left with their father. Both of them gave Tom a big hug and promised a thousand times that they would come back.

That kind of innocence was pure, and if a five minute interaction could help them to keep that innocence even longer; well, Tom was willing to promise them back that he could wait.

After all, what could it hurt?

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

Ninety minutes later, Tom was feeling a lot better. His headache was gone – courtesy of Harrison, who had taken pity of him and given him some Advil and a nice, streaming mug of tea, which helped to sooth his throat. His voice was even starting to come back, albeit it was accompanied with a slight rasp. All in all, he felt like a normal functioning human being.

The store had slowed down in activity even more; the bright and sunny day was then dark and with ominous rain clouds rolling in. Tom was almost sure that it wouldn’t hurt anyone to go home before he had to shower in cold water when it started to rain.

Pounding footsteps were suddenly heard echoing from the hallway, and Tom looked up just in time to see Peter appearing at the front entrance. Peter spotted him and squealed with excitement, whipping around to wave.

“He’s still here, Morgan! I see him!”

“Hurry up, Y/N!”

At the sound of Morgan’s voice, Tom rounded the corner of the cashier desk and frowned. Behind him, he could hear Harrison, who was lazily hanging around, begin to snicker as he watched. He already knew what had happened with the kids, and after a whole lot of teasing, Tom had regretted telling him.

Just then, Morgan appeared in his line of vision, pulling a young woman behind her by the hand. You just looked confused as you struggled with your shopping bags and the purse, all while trying to keep Morgan from running off without you. The second the little ball of energy saw Tom, she let go of your hand and went running up to him. Blinking the upcoming embarrassment, Tom bent down to one knee so that he could be at eye level with Morgan.

“Hi Tom!” Morgan greeted enthusiastically. “We thought – we thought that if you couldn’t go and find your true love we could bring her to you! This is my sister, Y/N, and she can be your true love!”

As you stepped closer to him, Tom looked up – and felt his mouth go dry. His stomach fluttered when he recognized you. You had never talked in person, but it was hard not to notice when Y/N Stark walked into the room. You had shared a couple of classes together back in highschool, and Tom sat directly behind you in your biology class. He wasn’t that much of a genius, but thanks to you he passed all the classes; and it was really a miracle, because young Tom spent all his time staring at you.

He could almost remember the stuttering when you talked, the burning heat on his cheeks and how sad he was when he learned that you had moved away. Now that he thought about that, he had already met Peter as a baby, and your father a couple of times. How could he forget his forever crush?

“Didn’t you guys want to go to the arcade?” you asked, your voice sweet and gentle as he remembered. “It’s on the other side of the mall”

“Y/N” Peter talked “We have to ask you something really important”

Panic filled Tom. He desperately wracked his brain, trying to come up with a way to stop the kids before they could embarrass him to the next decade.

“Can you be Tom’s true love?” Morgan and Peter asked at the same time, slightly unrhythmical.

For the second time that day, Tom wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, never to be seen again. His cheeks turned red and his ears pink, and he wanted to bash his head against the counter.

“W-what?” you asked. Your gaze landed on him and he could see the recognition flashing through your eyes. The smile that appeared on your face made the whole situation more embarrassment. “Tom! It had been ages since I saw you!”

Tom nodded dumbly.

“Y/N!” Morgan stamped her foot impatiently and your attention landed on your little sister once more. “This is really important!”

“Ursula might come back, Y/N!” Peter backed up. Tom wasn’t sure who was more invested in the story, if the big brother or the little sister. “Can you be his true love or not? He doesn’t have all day!”

“Who the f -uh, who is Ursula?” you gave a confused glance to Tom, who was still kneeling on the ground frozen because I could fucking faint.

“The evil sea witch” Morgan rolled her eyes, slumping her shoulders as if you were the most annoying thing in her short life. She showed you the pad of paper with Tom’s note written on it. “Remember, Y/N? She stole Ariel’s voice. And now she took Tom’s voice, and the only way to get it back is if he finds his true love!”

Tom could hear Harrison laughing his ass off on the background. His friend for sure knew who you were, as Tom couldn’t stop talking about you even years after you left, so the situation was hilarious for the blonde. Meanwhile, Tom was feeling everything moving in a slow motion, the headache back and his palms sweaty. He had the prettiest girl he could think of in front of him, with a note that confirmed his implication on the true love thing. If you slapped him and called him a creep, he wouldn’t blame you.

But the smile didn’t fell from your lips, it just transformed into a little laugh. You tried to cover it up with a cough and brought your hand to your mouth. Tom could see the happy shine in your eyes, the same he had enjoyed when he was in highschool and made you laugh. Even if it wasn’t going as bad as it could, Tom was sure he wouldn’t be calling you to meet up, as much as it hurt him; more like changing cities and avoiding you like the plague. Forger ever mucking up the courage to ask you on a date.

“Yeah, I can” your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he started at you in disbelief as you smirked down at him. Your hair was shorter, your features more mature and you were a bit taller; but he felt like he was all over that nervous boy that followed you through the corridors in hopes of you noticing him.

“Really?!” Morgan squealed, her wide toothless smile lit up her entire face.

“Only because you ask me and because you’re gonna eat all your veggies tonight” you tapped both of your siblings’ noses and laughed when a defeated sigh left their mouth. Then, you looked down at Tom and raised a brow. “Tom is going to have to stand up, though”

There was no way you could be serous about that. There was no way his crush from highschool, who he hadn’t seen in years, was asking him to stand up to kiss him. Not Harrison, who had stopped laughing behind Tom and was looking at the scene with wide eyes. Not your siblings, who were waiting for him to move. No, you were talking to Tom and Tom was having a heart attack.

“Tom, come on!” Peter urged him, tugging on his sleeve. For such a small boy, your brother was strong.

The whole thing was more than a little weird, but Tom wasn’t that stupid to deny the opportunity that it presented. And if there was one thing that could be said about Tom, was that he was fucking in love with you he never backed down. Even if it was going to blow up in his face.

Up close, he was able to notice the little details that he otherwise would have missed. You smelled so good that he had to stop himself from sniffling. Your eyes were brighter, and your hair was the same colour he remembered. He looked to the small mole that he had found years ago, and it was in the same place; so were the wrinkles around your eyes and the dimple on your cheek. You tucked your hair behind your ear, and Tom could see himself studying the last history test on his bed, his mother knocking on the door to see if everything was alright and hearing her giggling when Tom stuttered.

“You really have to make it a special kiss” Morgan instructed, dead serious. “Like the kind of kisses that daddy gives mommy sometimes. A real true love’s kiss!”

“Alright” you nodded, stepping closer.

Gently, you grasped the lapels of his store vest and pulled him even closer, so that your bodies touched each other. Tom leaned in automatically, his head dropping and your lips slanting together. It wasn’t as hard as he thought, as his arms wrapped around your waist and you kissed him once, twice, three times. It wasn’t the first time he had been kissed, but without a doubt, it was easily the best kiss of his life.

Your body felt warm against him, or maybe it was the nerves, and he realized that you fitted perfectly together. Your noses didn’t touch, your hand seemed to belong to the back of his neck and even the heights were perfect for each other. Tom was about to melt in the ground, when you teared apart.

He seemed them to see the two kids looking at you with wide eyes and mouth open, Harrison on his side vision with the phone on his ear and whispering-talking excitedly. You blushing and tucking your hands in the pockets of your jacket, looking down.

“Now try talking, Tom!” Morgan said, her voice sounding impossibly loud in the empty store. Tom had never been so thankful that there were no customers around.

“Uh” Tom ran a hand through his head, floundering for words.

Tom let his eyes go back to you, and your gazes met. He tuned out the kids urging him to talk, and cherished how you didn’t look ready to run off and call the police on him. It wasn’t probably the best way to ask, since you hadn’t seen each other for years and you had kissed because of a shitty tale told to a little girl as an excuse for his hangover.

But, what else could he lose? After all, in fairy tales everyone had a happy ending; and he couldn’t let the two main characters hanging.

“What about a date?”

Peter Parker taglist:

@delicately-important-trash​

@lexxxistrips​

@smilexcaptainx​

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[simplybakugou]

The Villain -- Ch. 8: Coming Clean

A/N: the fact that I started this in 2018… I’M SO READY TO FINALLY FINISH THIS SHITTY STORY SO I'M SORRY IF THIS IS ACTUAL GARBAGE, I'M JUST DONE WITH THIS LMAO

Pairing: villain!bakugou x female!reader

Warnings: swearing; a little steamy 👀

Word Count: 3,539

Remember, if you want to be tagged in future chapters, comment below and I’ll add your username to the list!

LINKS TO NEW CHAPTERS

✐posted 06.03.2020✐

Bakugou kicked open the door to the Kamino Ward, feeling absolutely enraged with his fists clenched at his sides. “Where are you, Warp Gate fucker?!”

Kurogiri felt himself flinch behind the bar as Bakugou trudged inside the building, slamming his palms down onto the table. Even he felt himself shudder under the piercing gaze of his vermillion eyes, shifting in place in discomfort.

“What is it, Ground Zero?” Kurogiri asked.

“What the fuck did you do to the Comission Center? I didn’t give you any orders to pull that shit,” Bakugou grunted, feeling his palms sweat as little sparks erupted from his palms subconsciously.

Kurogiri looked back at Bakugou plainly. “With all due respect, Ground Zero, I don’t think what you’ve been doing has been benefiting the League of Villains. In addition…”

Kurogiri paused looking up to meet Bakugou’s gaze. “It seems to me that you have personal feelings for (H/N), which is what is holding you back. And frankly, I do not support this as our cause is completely different from those heroes.”

Bakugou laughed humorlessly, not believing a single word he was hearing. “Alright, let’s say you don’t trust me, which I don’t give a fuck about because I’m the leader for a reason. But who the fuck was with you ‘cause there no way in hell you’d be able to cause that much damage with that shitty quirk of yours.”

Kurogiri sighed. “The second person in question was a fake. There was no one else there. I used explosives to cause the damage to the area. Those heroes misread what they saw and relayed the information incorrectly. We must increase the pace in which we’re taking to finalize our goal: destroy every single hero there is.”

Bakugou scoffed, nodding along to his story. He didn’t believe what he was saying, realizing that Kurogiri was most likely covering for the person most likely behind all of this. Nevertheless, Bakugou was willing to put up with Kurogiri’s antics… for now.

“Alright… I’ll let it go for now, but next time tell me first before you do some dumb shit like this,” Bakugou said curtly, pushing back and moving towards the exit. He stopped in his tracks, looking back at Kurogiri in annoyance. “And I don’t like that shitty girl either so get that thought out of your fucking ass!”

***

“Are the reporters all out there?” You asked, wanting to peek behind the curtain in the conference hall.

Tsubaki, the one who called you immediately following the incident at the Hero Public Safety Commission Center, peeked through the curtain gasping at the sight. “There’s so many of them out there!”

You sighed, your heart feeling heavy due to the large amount of people in one room awaiting for Natsuya’s speech as well as the reason for the press conference. Although you were never close to him, you felt awful about what had happened to Hawks as he was a major hero when you were still a teenager in U.A.

“I’m surprised Yamashita got so many people here at once in such a short amount of time!” Tsubaki exclaimed.

You nodded in agreement. “I mean, what else would you expect from the Chief of Police?”

Natsuya emerged from the conference room where other officers, the head of the Hero Commission Center, and other officials followed. Natsuya shot you a small smile, his nerves skyrocketing as he was instructed to go out onto the small stage placed in front of all of the reporters. The curtain pulled back and flashes of cameras glowed in the room as the reporters rapidly took pictures.

Natsuya took a deep breath, standing in front of the podium as he was chosen to deliver the news to everyone. You stayed behind the curtain with Tsubaki and other heroes who attended.

“The events that took place yesterday were horrific and outright evil. We have confirmed that the villain Kurogiri and an unidentified second villain were the ones responsible for this atrocity. We have also confirmed that villains Dabi and Ground Zero were nowhere to be seen during these events, therefore are not responsible. Nevertheless, the League of Villains are still held accountable for this, and will be held accountable for the health damage that hero Hawks faced. The hospital also confirms that Hawks had his quirk taken away from him through the Quirk-Destroying Drug that hadn’t been used for years since Shigaraki was the original leader of the League of Villains.” Natsuya continued to relay crucial information to the crowd as they typed vigorously, trying to keep up with him as he spoke. 

“What do you plan on doing, (H/N)?” Tsubaki asked you, half-listening to Natsuya and half-anticipating what you were going to say.

“If it wasn’t clear before, it’s clear now,” you stated. “We have to take down the League, no matter who stands in our way.”

***

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Natsuya’s concerned voice came through the speakers of your car as you drove down the highway.

“Stop worrying about be, Tsuya, you’re going to burst a blood vessel,” you joked. “I’m just visiting home. Things are getting suffocating so I just need a breather.”

“Alright, let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Natsuya said, causing a smile to tease at your lips.

“I know I can rely on you for anything. I’ll talk to you later.” You ended the call, parking your car in front of your childhood home. Exiting your vehicle, you stood in front of your house where your father still resided, hesitant to enter. Your fingers curled into fists, deciding to not go in anyways and you made your way towards the opposite direction of the street. 

Since your mother’s passing, your father had been adamant about his disapproval of your passion and profession. No matter how many honorary medals or titles you earned, your father never approved of anything. By the time you had officially become a pro, having just graduated from U.A., your father vowed to never speak to you again. It had been years since you’d spoken to him and you were nervous to encounter him again despite how many times Natsuya, who still was in contact with him, pushed you to make the first move. But you simply couldn’t. 

You didn’t know where you were going, your feet taking you down the trail. Your old neighborhood was quiet and pleasant, trees, flowers, and bushes littered almost everywhere. That was why it felt like second nature for you to walk to the old park by your home, one that you and the rest of your friends from U.A. would spend time after school. But once you had finally reached the park, you felt heartbroken at the sight.

The previously lively park with acres of land and trees had been ripped apart, now a construction site with heaps of trash littering the area. It had been too long since you had last been here so you knew things would be different. Nevertheless, you hopped over the fence that stood in front of the site to keep away trespassers. You didn’t care about the consequences at the moment, wanting to sit somewhere, not caring where it was so long as you were able to clear your head somehow.

There were numerous cranes and other machines and equipment scattered across the yard. Having picked a random one, you used your quirk to push yourself atop an excavator. A deep sigh escaped from your lips as you looked out into the horizon. You could see your house from here and even some of your friends’ old homes. You stared particularly at the biggest house in the area, the Bakugou house, that was now empty. After Bakugou had turned to the League, his mother and father left the city and no one knew where they resided now. It seemed wherever Bakugou went, he brought pain and misery along with him.

“The hell?!” A certain gruff voice exclaimed from beside you. You looked to the left, eyes widening at the sight of Bakugou staring back at you with a similar expression. He was lying on the ginormous machine. You hadn’t noticed him as the space was so large and your mind was racing at a thousand miles per minute that you couldn’t even acknowledge his existence.

Before you could open your mouth to utter even a word, Bakugou was quick to jump down from the machine, avoiding you at all costs. But you were even quicker to create a gravel barrier between him and the fence using your quirk, trapping him in the space. Bakugou cursed under his breath as he was too flustered to react quick enough. You created an elevator-like step underneath Bakugou’s feet, maneuvering him back up the excavator. He didn’t utter a word nor did he attempt to flee this time, staring at you silently as he stepped back onto the machine.

You were surprised, looking at him curiously. “You’re not going to try to run, Katsuki?”

Bakugou sighed, plopping back down onto the metal surface, criss-crossing his legs. He scoffed, avoiding your gaze. “And you’re not gonna arrest me, hero?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling your legs to your chest. You wrapped your arms around them, leaning your head on your knees. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. And what about you, villain, you’re not going to wreak havoc on a city?”

Bakugou smirked at your wit, shrugging. “You’re not the only one with a lot on their mind.”

You sighed for what felt like the hundredth time all day. You were tired, absolutely exhausted. It seemed like you were battling the whole world at times, especially with the best pro heroes being targeted now. What happened to Hawks made you feel unsettled, like the League was going after specific heroes. It didn’t seem right that just as Hawks had advised for you to back down from any League related business, he was permanently out of commission. And it made you feel disquieted as the fear that Bakugou was behind this attack was in the back of your mind, no matter if he was there at the site of the attack physically or not. It made you feel like you couldn’t continue fighting for his innocence and you had to hold him accountable now.

“Were you the one behind the attack at the Hero Commission Center?” You asked bluntly, astounding Bakugou with your straightforwardness.

“Tch, as if I would be behind the attack that hurt my fucking boss.” The words echoed through your head, despite Bakugou mumbling it in an attempt to not let you catch on. But you heard every word, the words that you were waiting to hear for years.

“What? Your boss?” You repeated in shock.

Bakugou’s vermillion eyes flitted over to you, shining brightly against the beam of the setting sun. “You heard me. Hawks is my boss.”

He chuckled humorlessly at your bewildered expression, your lips parted as you attempted to find the right words to say and your eyes like the shape of saucers. “Got nothin’ to say? It’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time.”

“You’re an idiot,” you grunted, angered to no end. Bakugou looked at you, confused beyond words. 

“What?” He knew one day he would have to come clean to you, the one person who saw through his act. He anticipated tears, confusion, shock, and happiness. But you were reacting in a way he had not expected.

“It’s about time you came clean!” You exclaimed, your voice echoing through the streets.

Bakugou closed the space between the two of you, clamping a calloused hand over your lips. “Be quiet! You’re gonna let the whole world fucking hear!”

You shook his hand from your face, turning your body to face him completely. Crossing your hands over your chest, you glared right at him. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, looking off into the distance and avoiding your gaze once more. “There’s nothing to it really. Hawks and the Hero Commission Center came to me right after the Kamino Incident to act as a double agent. Those shitheads still want me working for them to find the real leader behind the League but I’ve got no clue right fucking now.”

He glanced over at you, and although he would never admit it, he felt slightly intimidated under your glaring stare. “What? That’s everything, I mean it.”

“So you have nothing to do with the League, right?” You clarified, wanting to make sure that Bakugou was innocent. “You never hurt a single person, right? All those people are telling lies, right? You didn’t kill Shigaraki?” You were referring to all the people who were witnesses and victims under Bakugou’s supposed kidnapping.

“Can’t say I’m completely innocent. I’ve definitely hurt people, punched a civilian or two to make sure my act was solid and believable. But I didn’t kidnap or kill anyone.” Bakugou felt slightly relieved once your stare faltered a little. “All I know is the real leader is acting like me and putting up with my act. Seems like whoever it is, they want me to take all the heat and blame for now. And that person’s the one who killed ole crusty face, not me. I was just the one who found his body and was blamed for it.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. You had dreamed of this day, the day where everything would make sense and you would understand Bakugou’s actions. But here you were, utterly confused beyond belief. “Why would the real leader go along with your act? How is it benefitting them?”

“My guess is that it’s probably someone on the other side. A hero, officer, someone in the commission center? One of those fuckers has to be fooling all of us and running this shit on the sidelines.” Bakugou paused momentarily, looking ahead. “With me around, that asshole can put the blame all on me while working with that Warp Gate fucker. But I’m close, I know that for sure. Soon enough I'll be allowed to finally be free and not have to worry about living this fucked up life anymore.”

You continued to look at him, smiling at the sight of the ends of his lips curling upwards a little. You had missed that smile. “And what do you plan to do? Once you’re free and don’t have to follow anymore orders?”

Bakugou shrugged, running a hand through the ash blonde spikes on his head. “Do whatever the fuck I want. Can’t be a hero, that’s out of the question. I’ll worry about that when I’m free.”

You smiled and nodded, a weight lifting off your shoulders. You felt a surge of relief run through your veins, a feeling you could never describe into words. You felt proud for believing in him all this time, believing that he was innocent. And you missed him, missed your dear friend from childhood.

“It must’ve been lonely… dealing with this and losing your adolescence,” you muttered, looking away from Bakugou and looking down at the horizon where the sun had painted the sky with orange and pink hues. Bakugou looked over at you, startled by your statement. There you were, not blaming him for anything, not for the lies or the deception. Instead you were selflessly worrying about him and the time that was taken from him living his life. 

“Calling me an idiot… you’re the real idiot here,” Bakugou grumbled, narrowing his eyes at you.

You looked over at him, confused by his words. “What?”

Bakugou stood up, taking a few steps towards you, and kneeling down in front of you. His face was inches from yours, alarming you from his quick movements. He stared into your (E/C) eyes for a moment, sighing again and looking down at your feet. “I was told that all I had to do was keep this act up and soon I’d be done. But now Hawks is outta the picture and I don’t know what the fuck to do. I can’t do this alone, I need help. That asshole behind this is probably gonna pull another one on me and then I’ll be helpless. My head’s all fucked up right now.”

“And as if my head isn’t already fucked from all this villain-hero shit goin’ on…” Bakugou swiftly pushed you back down onto the cool metal surface of the excavator, his body hovering over yours and his hands pinning yours on either side of your head. His legs straddled your body down as his scarlet eyes pierced right through yours. A whimper escaped your lips as your cheeks heated up from the proximity of your bodies. Bakugou stared down at you, his face twisted in dubiety. “You’re makin’ it worse, driving me fucking insane. You’re the only one who’s ever believed in me, and you’re driving me insane. You’re making me fucking fall for you.”

The world felt still in that moment and you didn’t even feel the breeze drift off in the air. All you could was the intimidating stare Bakugou had on you, sending shivers down your spine and his touch sending electricity down your veins. “What are you-?”

Before you could finish your question, Bakugou closed the gap between your head and his, slamming his lips on yours. A gasp escaped your lips as he pushed his lips roughly against yours. He lowered his body on you, hips grinding into you. You pried your hands free from his hold, one hand clutching his blonde locks while the other gripped onto the nape of his neck, wanting him closer to you. You felt hot and bothered, bothered at how turned on you were by this whole situation.

Bakugou’s lips were warm and soft against yours, moving in a rhythm you were having difficulty keeping up with. He made your body feel a way that you had never felt before as you felt hot yet cold at the same time. You were gasping for air, moans escaping your lips as you could barely keep up with his body grinding against you. You had never felt this way, no one made you feel this way, not even Natsuya.

That was when yours hands went down to Bakugou’s shoulders, pushing him back up and his face away from you. Bakugou stared down at you, angered that you had cut this moment short as you both attempted to catch your breaths and come down from the high you were on.

“Natsuya…” You uttered simply, causing Bakugou to scoff harder than he ever had. He didn’t care for your police boyfriend, never really caring for him even when you were teenagers. 

“Forget it,” Bakugou grunted, standing to his feet and jumping down to the ground.

“Katsuki, wait!” You called out, sitting up and looking down. But you were too late, he was already gone.

***

You kicked a loose piece of gravel on the path, your hand shoved in your pocket as you made your way down the cemetery. Your other hand went up to touch your lips as the images of Bakugou’s body atop of your own made you feel both flustered and guilty. You cared for Natsuya so much as he was your closest friend and you had just quite literally cheated on him. But he never made you feel the way Bakugou did when he was around you. Nevertheless, it didn’t excuse your actions and you knew you had to make it right once you got back.

But now you stood in front of the main reason why you even visited your hometown: to see your mother. 

You knelt in front of her tombstone, clapping your hands together and bowing your head. “It’s been a while, Mom. I’m sorry I haven’t visited.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you sat your rear down in front of her grave, staring at the engraving of her name. “I don’t know what to do, Mom, I feel so conflicted. I’ve been waiting for this moment, waiting to find out about Katsuki’s innocence. And now I know about it, and I think he was indirectly asking me for help. But he… asked me in such an odd way, like he had been waiting a long time to do… that.”

Your hand rose and pressed against the cool stone, your finger tracing the engraving. “I want to help him. I want to be there for him while also doing my job. What do I do, Mom?”

You sat there for a few minutes, as if you were waiting to hear a response. You chuckled, shaking your head at yourself. What am I even doing?

You rose to your feet, making your way back to your car until a blunt object hit the back of your head, causing your body to crash into the dirt. Your head was throbbing and you felt the object hit the same spot again, a scream erupting from you in pain as you attempted to take a look at the perpetrator.

A man laughed. “You couldn’t just keep your nose outta this one, huh, hero?”

And just like that, the world went black.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tagging: @chims-kookies @bokunoheroes-stories  @iamthe-leaf @simplysymphonic @mylittlesunshineblog @imyourliquor-youremypoison @sunflowerchild27  @geesshoku @ghoularaki @katsukiwonu  @kotakingly @tyongflight @sparkexplosive @minniepresents @thorohdamnson​

[of-tatooine]

mercy. | chapter 15 - white

“because I know I will kill my enemies when they come.”

Flashes of bright, white light surrounded your universe.

They left no room for escape, encircled and almost trapped your vision to be limited to unbearable shine. And it was not just your eyes that felt the frustration - it was your entire mind, body and soul, in unison against the damage, trying to bring you back to your core yet to no avail.

Every single inch of your skin and every marrow in your aging bones screamed damn murder. Estranged, white hot matter engulfed your brain, occupied your thoughts and shot out any ounce of positivity that may or may not have been there to begin with.

Pain.

It invaded your entire body, every single cell and fiber of your being, like daggers digging deep into your skin. That troubled mind of yours could not recall when the last time you had been in such pain was - even getting shot seemed to be a breeze with the adrenaline kicking in.

In such a state of mind and body - all you were reduced to was wishing you had been six feet deep in some gravel already, to save you the years worth of misery and pure agony which seemed to only get fucking worse. No, these bastards holding you down did not even give you the damn luxury of dreaming of death.

Instead, the blade was dug deeper into your bullet wound.

“Motherfucker - ” was the latest addition to the plethora of curses you had spitted out in the past waking hours, the only vocabulary available to you. Sweat dripped down your jaw and trailed down your bloody neck in contrast to the freezing cold right outside the wall inches away, your flannel-covered chest heaved in exertion. Arms bound behind the chair with some makeshift rope which, in other circumstances, would not stand a chance against your nimble fingers. The jeans drenched in a mixture of blood, some dried and most of it your own, the fabric and bandages that used to cover your thigh ripped beyond recognition - and the sick fuck who would not stop grinning held the blade way too deep into your scab, reopening the wound, making blood gush out all over.

Ellie.

From the pain that rattled the very ground you were sitting on, your eyelids pushed themselves open to seek for the little girl. As much as you could make out of the bloodshot sight coated by tears, your almost lifeless irises searched for that familiar sight - heart dropping once again as you spotted her green coat in that blurred vision of yours.

Yelling, screaming and arms flailing as a couple of men tried to get a hold of her, dragging her out of the dirty cell they had tossed you both into and she put up a good fight. Just like she always did.

Just like he had taught her.

A newfound rage fueled you from within, surpassing the agony delivered by the probing into your body - the thought of filthy fingers touching her with nothing but harm intended, her screams echoing off of the hanging slabs of meat and corpses making your jaw clench and blood boil, veins bulging.

Get her the hell out of here.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” you would scream out into the bastard’s face with whatever voice you had left in your throat, body tightening and shooting up in a sudden burst of adrenaline - the movement erupting another groan out of you as the metal moved within your flesh.

Gathering all your efforts to keep your focus on the girl, green eyes would meet yours and they had nothing but absolute fear and terror in them. Helpless and hopeless, fighting yet beaten as the men pressed her against the rusty bars of the kitchen cell that was built to keep in animals for slaughter.

It was in the slight furrow of your eyebrows as your eyes met hers for the briefest of moments. The little spark of hope that never gave up on shining, no matter how much blood you had lost and how close death was. The sternness that seemed to give her some sort of determination, something to take example of. The pure rage against any and all men that walked on this very ground who dared touch her.

Be brave, Ellie.

“Now, we tried to be nice,” the greasy-haired fucker David who stood dangerously close to your face spoke, “ - but you just wouldn’t play.”

As you breathed in and out, frantically, the veins in your neck bulging as you struggled to get out of the bindings with what little strength your body could muster. “You let that girl go,” your bloodied lips would spit out, jaw clenched as you dared stare the monster right in the eyes.

Surviving for this long meant you had seen a lot of fucked up things in your lifetime, as a Firefly or sometimes on the other end of the barrel - yet your mind and soul would never forget the horrors these pack of cannibals had inflicted on both you and the little girl, in just a matter of days. It was not even about the beating they gave you, nor the scab wounds they re-opened up, no. This was so much more than your own torture, watching that little girl you had somehow sworn to protect be handled so roughly, hurt, battered and bruised.

“What are you gonna do, doll? Kill me?” he taunted you, pressing the blade a bit sideways to widen the wound, eliciting another muffled scream out of you as your head arched back slightly - if you had managed to get out of this hellhole alive, if the fucking Cordyceps did not kill you, this pain in your damn thigh would take you out. A bloody hand wrapped around your neck as he left the blade embedded, bringing your face forcefully back to match his eyesight - those sick orbs not having an ounce of light in them, shaded by a couple strands of hair.

Had you not been in such a weak position, you would have snickered at the man’s broken finger in a cast.

Lips aching to scream, legs craving to run and mind racing for the one and only Ellie, you used every inch of your leftover resolve to not give up your soul right there and then as your fingers worked softly against the knots of the rope bindings - broken fingernails digging into your skin, jaw clenching yet the rope giving away slightly. A silent prayer went up to whatever god was listening to you - it was some worn-out material that they used to tie animals with, or in this case, human meat. These fuckers had not anticipated you to be conscious, with all that residual pain after the torture.

“Take me. Let the kid go,” your hoarse voice pleaded, the desperate tonality of it lighting sick sparks inside your captor’s eyes. Another thick knot slipping through, the coarse rope cutting through your calloused fingertips.

Fuck, almost there.

“Now, how about we take you both?”

A blood-curling scream rang in the cold air of the kitchen as a couple of men carried Ellie forcefully to the adjoint freezer room not too far away from you where slabs of meat dangled all over, making you sick to your stomach knowing half of those were human.

Chest heaving in exertion and pure anger, you could only watch helplessly as David extracted the blade from your thigh in a sickening pop of blood and flesh - opting to press it against your neck, your own blood trailing down your throat as he cooed to you - an animalistic ssh that was sure to haunt you in your dreams if you ever made it out alive.

The only thing you could do was gulp, speaking would be futile as he angled the blade to keep you looking up at him. Meanwhile, your fingers worked ever so softly to untie the last knot. You still kept your hands together behind you - if that did not work, well, he would be better off slitting your throat right there and then. Even if it was your only chance, you would take it.

So you did.

“What the fuck is that?” you would hear one of his soldiers speak up, in total and utter disbelief, making your bloodshot eyes look over to the girl they had tried to restrain against the metal table. Her sleeve tugged up as her legs tried to kick at the other guy - yet their attention to a certain detail seemed to stop the proceedings, and stop time for a split second as David turned around to face his men.

Then, you saw it. From the corner of your eye, squinting a little. A fucking bite, all scabbed in its’ glory, on her inner forearm where they had tugged the sleeve upwards to make a cut.

When they told you she was immune, you did not believe it one bit. This crusade was simply for the fact that Joel needed the help, for whatever end goal he had in mind. For the contentment of the kid and her safety, nothing more, nothing less.

Now, you had seen more infected bites than you could count - and this one was no ordinary one. Jesus Christ, this was real. Your shocked orbs caught Ellie’s equally scared ones in that moment of confusion - a distraction that you probably would not get ever again.

“Run!” you screamed at Ellie as the bindings dropped from your reddened wrists, your foot lifting up with such force to hit the man where the sun don’t shine - your hands reaching to hold the blade further away from you, not even giving the cannibal a split second to comprehend what the fuck was going on as he collapsed in a loud groan, the blade tumbling over the concrete floor.

And run she did - using her little size to her advantage, she jumped off of the table before the bastards could catch her, running to the exit through the slabs of meat as you ducked into another hallway in a hurry - the pain subsided by the pumping adrenaline only for a little while. Curses and slurs rang in the coldness of the compound as the men scurried for their guns, one rushing to help David up yet you would not dare look back.

The only thing that mattered was finding Ellie outside and getting the fuck out of the village. The moment you dashed from the backdoor of the kitchen, the blinding blizzard hit you right in the eye, making your step falter in the snow. From the right came footsteps - quick yet light, your instinct told you to follow them, only to find a head of ginger hair with specks of snow scattered as you got close.

Hope filled through your being, despite the fact that your only protection against the blizzard was Joel’s flannel. Blood trickled down every inch of your skin, leg limping.

Oh God. 

Joel.

Would you live enough to see him one more time? To thank him for his shirt you had borrowed? Freezing would be a big understatement in your condition, somehow the fear of death and the survival instinct pumping through you kept you in operating condition. It did not matter if you got hypothermia or suffered a long, painful death from blood loss - as long as you got this girl under safety, you could die a happy woman.

She must have seen you too, you reckoned when she collided into you, a silent throe of gratitude as her hands wrapped around yours in such force. Dragging you deeper into the snow, away from the approaching sounds of men and guns cocking and into temporary cover.

There was no way in hell they were going to spot you in this hell-sent snowstorm, unless you got too close, or shot someone. The latter would not deem to be the case, considering you had absolutely nothing to defend yourself with. You had been in fucked up situations before, but never like this, never with the responsibility of a little kid looming all over your shoulders and a gaping bullet hole in your thigh. Taking the chance to peek above cover, your arm was placed protectively around the little girl, your best attempt to shield her from harm and give her some warmth.

As the two of you took a moment to breathe, the slow crunches of snow underneath boots alerted you - they were everywhere, looking for you both, eager to get their hands on you. Muttering a curse, you looked down at her, and that was when you noticed the utter fear mixed in with blood and determination written on her face. Staring up at you with faltering eyes.

"Ellie," you whispered, head leaned in, as your arm encircled around her to press her against you. "I'll get you out of here. We need to go inside - and take these fuckers down."

She nodded quickly, tensing up at the sudden movement up ahead, her trembling hand reaching to her coat to take out her trusted switchblade.

"No matter what happens, you don't leave my side."

Another nod of confirmation, and against the protests of every inch of your limbs, you moved on forward into the unknown snow - Ellie tugging onto your sleeve as you advanced like a wolf to choke out the first of many cannibals. Adrenaline and the resolve to protect this little girl at all costs the only things giving you strength.

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

She was gone.

All it took was one second of carelessness, leaving her a couple steps behind to sneak up on another one of David’s gang members - by the time you had choked him out, fighting and stammering in the snow, the wind had picked up and made you totally lose sight apart from what was literally an inch in front of you.

Sqinted eyes searching for the little girl frantically, the jacket you had stolen off of the bodies you knocked out in your way providing some much-needed warmth. Yet another stolen item - a scarf this time, thickly tied around the gaping wound to stop the bleeding the best you could. The dizziness from the blood loss seemed to hit you in waves, faltering your step occasionally as you trudged through the blizzard. After coming this far, all this way, with the cold freezing the very marrows of your bones and your blood drying all over your skin - you would not let a fucking bullet wound take you down nor keep you from finding her.

There, over the far horizon of your vision coated by snowflakes, you could spot color. Orange, burning red, emanating from the building not too far away it seemed - it could not be if you could make it in this storm. Dark smoke starting to follow up into the sky, contrasting the white stillness of the snow with the smell of burning wood.

Praying she was alright, you would let out a silent curse and take off towards your new lead.

Fear rose up in your throat again, your heart racing as you tried to stick to the walls and be as stealthy as possible while making your way towards the burning building. Not many men were in sight, even if they had been, they did not spot you - most of them you had choked out or kicked to death on your way. There was no room for mercy, there never would be for these bastards who tried to touch the kid you swore to protect.

If only you could get your hands on that fucker David, you were going to make him wish he was never born.

Breath quickening as you silently approached the building from the back alley, which seemed to be an old, abandoned diner, an open window could be spotted near the back of it - noting that it was just near Ellie’s height. Without a second doubt, or thought in that matter, you hastily moved and carefully hopped inside of the kitchen of the joint. Alert and jaw clenched, you could hear the thuds of footsteps and the voice of that sick fuck once again as you dared sneak a peek from the crevice - along with the cracks and winds of the flame slowly emanating through the walls, originating from the entrance.

“You think you know me?”

Ellie’s muffled sounds of protest rose up in the air, your feet fucking killing you as you sneaked your way towards the two. If you wanted to save her, you needed to do this nice and so damn quiet - you were not packing and the only weapon you had was your damn hands, knuckles all bloody. The one guy you managed to snag had been out of bullets, before you decided to discard it and you were beginning to regret that stupid decision, made in your haste to get to her. It destroyed to your core, knowing that she had been through so much and you could not save her sooner - in the end, even if it meant your own demise, you promised her you would protect her.

Fire illuminated the center point of the premise as you sneaked up closer, sounds of struggle ever so prominent as you readied yourself up for the battle, now having a clear view of his denim covered back. You would not dare imagine the animalistic expression on his face.

And Ellie, laying vulnerable and beaten on the floor.

When that monster, no doubt injured by the way he was holding onto his arm, got on top of Ellie to strangle her - that was when your blood boiled to the rim. It did not matter if the fire burnt through your skin, bullets pierced your limbs, knives got stuck in flesh.

Legs pushed you up in almost an instant as you growled and lunged at the man from his back, catching him by surprise as you used the maintained stealth to your advantage. Giving Ellie time to escape the hell out. He grunted as you tackled him to the ground, laying down a solid punch to his jaw but then the remaining survival instinct in him decided to act up, much to your bad luck - his good arm came out of nowhere and punched you in your stomach, hard, pure rage spitting out of his mouth.

“You fuckin’ bitch.”

Sending you curling back on the floor as the wind got knocked out of you, that split second enough for him to try to get up with a snarl and move towards his one designated victim - the best he could do was crouch in his state.

Maybe you should have noticed, or maybe the blinding fire had been too distracting. Maybe it was the urge to get this man’s hands off of her as soon as possible, no matter what the cost. As you practically crawled on the floor towards the girl in a race with David to get to her, the shy glint of the machete she wielded stopped the breath in your lungs.

A loud hurl that no child should have to muster came out of her lips as she gave the man who had put her through so much pain a slash - right in the head, the man’s screams erupting in the burning room before ceasing abruptly as the metal pierced through his skull. Blood and brains scattering all over the hardwood, with such force - and yet she did not stop. All that frustration of captivity, the way he touched her and you, tortured you relentlessly - it was all expressed in the form of brutal, fatal slashes to David’s now unrecognizable remains.

“Ellie,”  you managed to crawl up to her, your arms tentatively reaching out to get wrapped around her tense shoulders, pulling her towards your frame as tears dropped from her green eyes, sobs filling in the air.

“C’mere - it’s okay, it’s over,” you softly whispered as the girl wrapped herself around your kneeling frame, letting go of the machete with a thud, craving the comforting touch. She had done it. Killed a man viciously, without an inch of remorse, exactly the way he deserved to die. Brutalized and mutilated to no dismay. And now she was crumbling, as if reminding herself that she still was a child in a cruel, big world.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.”

Heart broken into a million of pieces, her tears coated your stolen, oversized jacket as your eyes threatened to spill - a couple drops raining down on your bloodied cheeks, chest heaving in the aftermath of it all. Fingers ran through her hair  as you pressed her even closer, finding much needed comfort in each other surrounded by fire and death.

Lost in the embrace as you comforted the child, you did not hear the giant of a man run through the fire and into the burning diner, breathless and battered - who dropped down to his knees and encircled both of your pressed frames into a hug, pulling you close. Ellie shielded herself from the world instantly, grabbing a hold of his jacket while another held onto your hand for dear life as she cried his name.

Instant warmth comforted you, the scent of flannel and snow seeping through your very being. Instinct told you not to budge, not to protest - you did not have to. It was safe, he was safe, hell - his arms were be the safest place to be on that scorched earth. His calloused hands wrapped around both of your shoulders, you felt his breathing soften. He had found you - before it was too late. Before he lost the two who mattered to him the most, even if his lips were silent.

Unable to do anything else, your bloody lips parted, leaning your heavy head against Joel’s broad chest as you never let Ellie’s other hand go - her small but bruised one in your equally injured. Joel’s presence gave you all the hope you had needed in the world for that moment, as if he was this glue putting together the shattered pieces, after you and that little brave girl in his arms had gone through absolute living hell.

“Ellie, it’s okay now,” he spoke, the rugged edge of his voice breaking as his one hand cupped Ellie’s cheek, the little girl looking up to him and you with terrorized eyes.

“Joel…he, he tried to - ”

“Oh, baby girl…” he gave in, the giant of a man’s entire resolve dissolving, the pure love he held laced his tone as his thumb wiped down the tears falling down her blood-coated skin. Joel buried his face in the little girl’s hair, cherishing her very existence as his hand held her face ever so gently. It warmed your heart, this burning fire reminiscent of your entire reason of fighting to survive. It was all for love, in any shape or form. Taking care of each other and never letting go.

That was all that mattered.

“It’s okay now, I got you. I got you both.”

As he allowed her to just let it all out for the mere remaining seconds they had before you all had to flee, his neck craned down to focus entirely on you. “Look at me, honey,” his rugged voice spoke with the softest, sweetest tone, olive green eyes clouded with such concern and relief, his long fingers gently pushed your hair back. Exhausted and teary eyes met his orbs as he adjusted his arm so that his calloused hand held your cheek in a warm embrace. No doubt inspecting for injuries, always checking if you were okay. Your lips curled in the softest of grateful smiles.

“God, I thought I lost you,” he whispered, the approaching flames reflecting in his green orbs as he pressed a desperate, loving kiss to your forehead. Lips you never thought you would feel against your skin. The type of affection that could only come from a man who thought you had been gone forever.

A loud thud of burnt wood falling down the floor echoed amongst the cracks of fire. “Let’s get out of here, c’mon,” he cooed, helping both of you up to your feet as his arm remained tightly wrapped around your waist - never letting go, always holding you close. Ellie took his other hand as she used her sleeve to wrap her tears, eyes looking up to find the exit.

Joel Miller swore to himself, right there and then, that he would take care of both of you. No matter what it took, he would always be there to watch over you and fight for both of you to the ends of this earth.

As long as it meant having you in his arms again.

[dweetwise]

Picture with me. Mt Ormond Legion gets the map. They see what they think is a new cosmetic of like a fur coat. They go to taunt. An actual bear rears up and looks at them. Legion bolts and does not want to be injured by a grizzly. Lets survivors know from out of stabbing distance of the bear.

[bless u anon for feeding my dbd crack needs. you didn’t say which legion you wanted so have some rat boy frank!]

swearing ahead! also ooc but what else is new lol

Frank VS bear: ficlet/crack

Seeing the mist fade as he’s teleported into a trial, the familiar chilly mountain air seeps though Frank’s mask. He spins his knife and hums in content, glancing around at the grounds of the ski lodge he knows like the back of his hand.

“Fuck yeah, home advantage,” Frank grins to himself, starting the trek through the thin layer of snow towards the far side of the map where his annoying little survivor prey usually spawn.

He cuts through a jungle gym, slowing down once he spots something through the window. Is that a fucking fur jacket? Frank suppresses a snicker while imagining which of the survivor pricks the new outfit belongs to. Maybe bird boy wanted to look even more like a caveman? Or the sleazy gambler thought it’d go well with his trashy fucking sequin pants?

He doesn’t get any answers, as the person doesn’t seem to be moving, just crouching a ways off from the window trying to hide. He knows his heartbeat range is tiny, courtesy of the Doc’s teachings, so maybe the fucker has spine chill? Frank sidesteps the wall, walking backwards around the corner so as not to alert the skittish survivor.

“Hey fuckface, the 50′s called--” Frank taunts, finally turning around and raising his knife, ready to surprise the living shit out of--

Frank’s grin drops as he comes face to face with a fucking bear holy fucking shit! The bear growls before standing up on its hind legs and roaring--

Frank nearly shits his pants and scurries through the window in a frenzy, dropping his weapon while fumbling through the opening in a panic. He bolts out of the jungle gym, sprinting towards the other side of the map as fast as his legs will carry him.

His heart is pounding in his ears and he has no idea if the bear is following him. Frank braves a glance over his shoulder and-- “Shit!” --trips over some inconveniently placed rubble, landing flat on his face in the snow with his mask falling off from the impact and sliding away on the icy ground. Fuck! Fuck! Frank looks up, frantically trying to spot the animal chasing him, but ends up freezing from mortification instead.

Not even five feet to his side, three survivors are crouching beside a generator, having stopped dead in their repairs to stare at him with varying levels of disbelief. For a few painful seconds Frank just awkwardly stares back at the familiar faces of fellow Ormondian Jeff, that tired bitch, Quentin, and wannabe Oprah--Jane? The silence is uncomfortable as nobody moves a muscle, the only sound being the slow putter from the generator.

“AHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Quentin, the little shit, finally bursts out and actually doubles over from laughter beside the machine. Frank feels his rage flare up and fuck that bitch is getting stabbed-- “Hey kid, you alright?” Jeff offers and approaches Frank, extending a hand to help the other up. Frank snaps out of it and springs to his feet, reminded of the impending doom of the bear chasing him. “Bear! BEAR!!!” Frank yells, grabbing the bearded man by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “Stop insulting him, you homophobic piece of--” Jane starts angrily, forcefully yanking Frank off of the artist. “No you dumb bitch, an actual grizzly! It almost fucking ate me!” Frank explains in panic, slapping at the woman’s arm until she lets him go. “What the heck are you on about??” Jane demands, rubbing at her arm where Frank landed a decent punch. “He’s probably tripping,” Quentin deadpans, having recovered from his laughing fit and now back on the generator. “You know, on more than his own feet,” he adds, snickering. “Shut the fuck up Smith--” ”Where did you see the bear?” Jeff asks with a serious tone, placing a calming hand on Frank’s shoulder. Frank recoils away from the touch in disgust. ”On the other side of the lodge, near... I think by the snow cannon,” Frank explains, wracking his panicked brain for information. ”Would you show me?” Jeff asks. ”Hell no! I ain’t getting eaten!” Frank protests angrily. ”Like it'd want your skinny ass anyway,” Quentin quips. Frank whips around, ready to throw fists, when Jeff fucking touches him again ugh-- ”We’ll try to spot it from the lodge balcony where it’s safe,” Jeff explains, reassuring hand on Franks bicep and shooting a warning look Quentin’s way. ”Jeff why are you humoring him? Surely it’s a trap,” Jane demands, hands on her hips and giving Frank the stink eye. ”Can’t you see how scared he is?” Jeff argues. ”I’m not fucking scared--” Frank starts, blood boiling and face heating up in embarrassment. “You guys work on the gens on this side while we check it out,” Jeff again interrupts his tantrum, leading Frank to the lodge with a strong grip on his arm. Frank doesn’t protest (much), kind of glad to be rid of the two bitches by the gen.

He follows Jeff to the second floor of the lodge, and soon they’re looking around for the bear from the balcony. Frank spots it, almost at the exact same location as before, frantically pulling at Jeff’s sleeve and pointing at the animal.

“Holy shit,” Jeff says, astonished. “Why did the entity put a bear here?” “I don’t fucking know! What the fuck are we gonna do?? I can’t kill you or the bear, I dropped my knife earlier!" Frank rambles angrily. “I don’t think you’re supposed to kill anything,” Jeff says, thoughtful. “You know, there’s only three of us in the trial today.” Before Frank has an opportunity to demand what the fuck Jeff is on about, the man says something that makes his blood run cold: ”I think the bear is the killer. And you’re... a survivor.” “Bull-fucking-shit I’m a pussy survivor!” Frank protests angrily. “And even if I was--which I’m not... why?” “Entity parenting?” Jeff suggests. “It’s probably sick of you being a brat.” “I fucking hate you,” Frank says, giving his dirtiest glare. “The second I get my knife back--” “Sure kid,” Jeff says and has the audacity to smile. “Now let’s go find the others.”

They find Quentin and Jane on a different generator than before. Jeff explains the situation, causing Quentin to, predictably, burst out in laughter.

“It’s not fucking funny--” Frank hisses. “Oh my god I’m so done with this entity bullshit,” Jane sighs tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What am I even supposed to do!?” Frank demands, crossing his arms and staring at the trio with barely concealed hatred. “You’re supposed to help us out with wholesome magical teamwork!” Quentin beams, clearly getting off on his misery. “Or y’know, get mauled to death by the grizzly. Your choice.” “Quentin, stop picking a fight and show Frank how to fix the gen. Me and Jane will handle the ones that are closer to the bear,” Jeff decides. “Fuck no I ain’t staying with this cunt!” Frank exclaims, mortified. “Works for me,” Quentin shrugs, ignoring Frank and merely offering a wave as Jeff and Jane take off.

After Frank reluctantly listens to Quentin’s half-assed instructions and crouches down to touch the generator in disgust, the annoying teen thankfully shuts up. For a while Frank tries his best to stay focused on the machine, his leg jumping in pent-up energy as his thoughts flutter between the threat of the bear, his rage for the entity’s stunt, the uncertainty of what’s to come after this trial--

“Motherfucker!” Frank curses at the machine as it explodes under his hands. “You know,” Quentin says absently, not even acknowledging his failure. “You should ditch the fugly mask more often. Makes you almost tolerable to look at,” he challenges with a smirk. “Maybe you should have it, fuck knows you need it more with a mug like that,” Frank shoots back without missing a beat, ducking behind the generator to hide a grin. His foot stops twitching and he realizes it’s much easier to focus when he has someone to banter with.

Later, when the stupid generators are done and there’s no sign of the bear, they regroup with Jeff and Jane (ugh) in an already opened exit. Frank grimaces as Jeff tries to give him some cringy heartfelt compliment, before flipping Jane off when the woman tries to start an apology. Jane huffs in annoyance while Jeff merely chuckles, leading Jane into the exit, both of them disappearing into the void.

“I wonder what’s gonna happen once you get out,” Quentin muses, leaning against the gate panel and not seeming in any hurry to leave. “You think this was a one-off?” “I sure fucking hope so,” Frank mutters, not eager to repeat this dumb practical joke of the entity. “You didn’t actually do terrible today, rat boy,” Quentin quips with a grin. “Says the raccoon,” Frank mutters, turning away as he feels his neck heating up from a single half-assed compliment. Where’s his fucking mask when you need it?? “Eh, raccoons are kinda cute. I’ll take it,” Quentin says, thankfully ignoring his embarrassment. “More like stinky and a pain in the ass.” ”None of those are mutually exclusive,” Quentin jokes, before looking back into the snowy map in thought. “Going back for your mask still?” he asks, with barely concealed... worry? ”Nah, Susie’ll make another,” Frank remarks, ignoring the other’s sudden interest in his well-being. “Maybe you should do this more often,” Quentin says. “Get rid of the mask and, y’know, stabbing. Might even make some friends.” “I don’t need friends,” Frank scoffs. He has his Legion, why would he want to play family with the survivors?

Quentin--smirks?--which is definitely not the reaction Frank was anticipating. Frank suddenly realizes he’s been standing way too close to Quentin for acceptable bro-range and the other is looking at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Frank feels his face heat up and an insult dies on his tongue. Quentin opens his mouth to say something, but seems to notice something behind Frank as his eyes go comically wide.

“FUCK, THE BEAR!!” Quentin yells and Frank bearly has time to turn around to see the massive animal come barreling towards them before Quentin is pulling on his jacket, making them both stumble and nearly trip over each other as they fall into the safety of the exit gate threshold.

[is frank a) a bi disaster b) terrible at making friends or c) all of the above? also where do i sign to let jeff adopt legion]

[undertalethingies]

In Defense Of Chara

  I was writing something else, but as it slowly turned into a long winded and off topic defense of Chara as a character, I realized that writing something specifically geared to that and just linking it when it’s relevant is probably a better idea than having to individually defend them every time I bring them up.

  So let’s talk about why I think that Chara is, at worst, a sympathetic villain, and, at best, a hero almost as tragic as Sans.

  But first, we have to talk about the assumptions fandom makes about them, so I can more easily explain why I disagree.

  Fanon Chara is often portrayed as a one dimensional villain and, even more confusingly, the story’s main antagonist.

  Fanon Chara is a messed up little fucker. Some of the more common headcanons include:

Poisoning Asgore on purpose

Creating the plan with Asriel in hopes of either starting another war or eradicating humanity entirely

Inspiring Frisk/the player to perform the genocide run (frisk and the player in fandom often aren’t truly separate even when they nominally are, and I do plan to analyze that eventually because it’s very interesting and also has some interesting implications aaaand I’m getting off topic)

Possessing Frisk/the player for the entirety of the genocide run

Being the one responsible for skipping Papyrus’ puzzles (I do believe this one, but I think a lot of people forget that there’s no proof Chara is the one responsible for this, and also skipping Papyrus’ puzzles is a sin worse than murder)

  These aren’t necessarily incorrect, but the widespread acceptance they receive is more than a little concerning.

  Admittedly, Chara certainly plays into the villain role. They literally refer to themselves as “the demon that comes when people call its name”. Of course, this belies the existence of a caller, but taking responsibility for your actions within a game where you are clearly a canon character? Ridiculous. Insane. How could you suggest such a thing.

  And that’s the thing here. Chara says it to your face, even, when you reload the game after a genocide route. And since I don’t think I can really say it better, here’s their dialogue:

  “You want to go back to the world you destroyed.

  It was you who pushed everything to its edge.

  It was you who led this world to its destruction.

  But you cannot accept it.

  You think you are above consequences.”

  And the thing is? I can’t speak for gamers as a whole, I don’t have those stats, but in most of the let’s plays I’ve seen?

  They say no, or they’re joking when they say yes, but that’s pretty clearly exactly what they think.

  And well… they aren’t necessarily wrong. Undertale, despite its deep, entrancing story and occasional fourth wall breaks, really is just a game. Even the corruption of the true pacifist ending after a genocide route is something you can avoid via fucking with the files, complicated as it may be.

  But even if you can fuck up the files, you know what you did.

  You know that despite every warning, every character who practically begs you not to reset, you took away their happy ending just so you could see for yourself what would happen if you slaughtered them.

  You weren’t necessarily wrong to. Let me get that out of the way. All of the hate toward people who play the genocide run is utterly ridiculous and I do not endorse it in any way. (though I admit to being it that camp once upon a time until I remembered that it’s a video game)

  But you still feel bad, yeah? You did something amoral. 

  And there’s this convenient scapegoat right here to push all of those bad feelings off on…

  I mean, they destroyed the world! What’s more evil than that, right?

  Even if you’re the one who guided them to that point in the first place. The one who guided them down the dark path of LV.

  “My “human SOUL”.

  My “determination”.

  They were not mine, but YOURS.”

  In Undertale, your stats are tied to your SOUL. And Sans says that LV is a measure of emotional detachment. And if their SOUL is your SOUL…

  Do you see what I’m getting at here?

  This goes into headcanon territory, but it’s my personal hypothesis that as you gain LV, you’re slowly but forcefully uncoupling them from their compassion and ability to care about other people. 

  Put yourself in their head for a moment. You’re a human who climbed mt. Ebott for ‘an unhappy reason’. You hate humanity due to whatever mysterious things you’ve suffered. But you’re taken in by this kind monster family, and treated as an equal to the prince of all monsters without hesitation. Then you accidentally poison your new dad. You laugh it off, but…

  You’re told of a prophecy about an angel freeing the monsters. Apparently, they all think it’s about you. Your dad calls you “the hope of humans and monsters”.

  So you try to fulfill it. Only fitting that you die from the same flowers you poisoned your dad with, right? It’s nothing more than what you deserve, after all. Your last request is to see the flowers in your hometown, in hopes that Asriel will carry your body there and see what humans are really like, since you know he has his doubts.

  But something unexpected happens. When he absorbs your SOUL, you share control! Now you don’t have to worry about it!

  However, despite your best efforts, you both die horribly, and you leave this mortal coil with just one question. “What did I do wrong?”

  And then you’re back!

  You don’t understand… Your plan failed, didn’t it?

  Why are you still here?

  In this weak moment of moral quandary, as you question everything you thought you knew, still caught up in the spectacular failure that caused your death, and weakened even more by the fact that this human you’re following keeps killing everything, and oh gods, was I brought back to aid this piece of shit? And the yet further weak moment caused by your steadily increasing LV, and seeing them kill your mother- you give up. You give in. You close yourself off from caring about anything or anyone, because where has that gotten you? Dead, and everything you loved turned to ruins is what. Clearly, the whole world is a pointless endeavor, and you’ve been brought back to end its misery.

  And then this shitbag wants to bring it back?

  Then why the fuck did they do the whole thing in the first place?

  What kind of sadist would kill everyone you’ve ever loved just for shits and giggles?

  I’m not saying that Chara is a hero. I’m not even saying they aren’t a villain, however coerced. What I’m saying is that there’s more to them than meets the eye. 

  They aren’t a two dimensional character, yeah?

  (haha Character)

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

Author’s notes: Finally, after months, I finally got to updating the fic! Schedule will be still irregular, but if things go according to plan the next chapter might come at around April 7. Thank you for staying tuned, please enjoy the chapter!

XXIX

January 14, 2278.

The green glow of Percy’s Pip-Boy illuminates the dark corridors of the Vault. I squinted, vaguely reading the time as two in the afternoon. She stands closer next to me. My partner does that whenever we explore vaults, and I can’t blame her.

Even I get creeped out by these damn things.

I didn’t know which was worse; the ones filled with insane clones who screamed “Gary”, or the one that filled my lungs with some kind of drug that made me and Percy trip out of our minds and almost hurt each other.

I don’t even wanna remember either. I must shift my focus on helping Percy find the GECK.

The ventilation is dead, and so is the thermostat, with the vault being in a state of decay for fuck knows how long. Some of these underground bunkers were built when I still had skin. Percy was extra cautious, and she was right to be. We faced several super mutants; Percy took care of them from a distance, while I offered additional firepower, ensuring none of those big green muties came within ten feet of her.

Reloading my shotgun, I hid behind a fallen desk as Percy fired another round from her Gauss rifle, nicking one mutant coming from my blind spot. The corner of my mouth tugs upward when I remember the first time we faced super mutants together, in the DC ruins.

I look at her now, and how she’d grown as a fighter.

Once all the muties in the area are dead, Percy sneaks over to a terminal, the glow of the monitor washing her helmet with a sickly green hue. My partner retracts her helmet, and begins typing away.

Shotgun still warm on my peeling hands, I’m alert to my surroundings as usual, though I can’t help but glance at her baffled expression, her frown frown deepening the more she reads the text on the screen.

“Shit. This isn’t science, this is sick! Charon, oh my god,” she whispers, eyes fixed on the terminal. “Some twisted scientist experimented on the vault residents to make the mutants. Vault 87 is where all the muties are coming from. They kidnap wastelanders and take them here and infect them with the FEV strain that doctor concocted.”

Expression grim, I turn to Percy. “Are you hinting that we blow this place up too, like Paradise?”

Sighing, Percy shuts the terminal off. “It’s too dangerous due to all the radiation in the area, and we don’t have the means to do it now. Maybe we can inform the Brotherhood.”

Knowing those tin cans, I roll my eyes at her. “If they decide to do something about it. They can’t even send their own men to fetch the damn GECK and they sent you.”

“My opinion of them is slowly getting worse as the days pass, that’s for sure,” Percy quips, powering down the terminal. “Fuckers have the most advanced weaponry in all of the Capital Wasteland next to the Enclave and they’re hiring a teenager and her ghoul partner as errand runners.”

At Percy’s remark, I chuckle.

“You mean the Wasteland Avenger and the Ghoul Reaper.”

“I thought you hated those nicknames,” she chuckles, the helmet of her suit protracting to cover her face once again.

“I still do, and Three Dog has no fucking problem using them, and us, to promote the Brotherhood. But those assholes don’t even respect you.”

Percy pauses, then her helmeted face turns to me. “Do you think he’s a little bit biased towards the Brotherhood?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters, he preaches about how ghouls are people too, and he’s absolutely right about that, but he says nothing about the Brotherhood's bigotry against ghouls. Worse, a ghoul had been directly and indirectly helping them, and he’s still quiet.”

I rubbed my chin at her observation. “Huh. I’ve never thought of it- Percy, your six!”

She turns around, and sees the centaur approaching us, those god-awful tentacles writhing as it advanced. A few things unsettle me, seeing how I have to deal with my ugly mug whenever I look in the mirror, but those things? It makes the hairs on what little skin I have left stand.

It took two rounds to take it down, its head splitting like a rotten fruit the second time Percy shoots it. Disgusting.

Percy seems to be thinking of the same thing, recoiling and shivering. “Thanks.”

I grunt in response. “Let’s get a move on. I don’t wanna spend another minute in this damn place,” I muttered, and my partner nods.

We advance, taking care of any mutants we bump into along the way. Percy sweeps every area we go into for supplies, and terminals she can tinker with. I have a feeling that her accessing the files in this vault isn’t born out of her natural curiosity now. She’s seeking something.

A truth of some sorts.

On one particular terminal she accessed, she recoiled in horror, stumbling into me. I steady her, my large hands cupping her shoulders as she takes a sharp inhale.

“That bad?”

“Yeah,” she gasps. “Look.”

Barely making out the words, I lean over to read the text with difficulty. Thankfully, Percy spells it out for me. “These are death codes. They represent what the vault residents succumbed to. See that?”

She points at a string of text on the screen. “UD000.”

“Unexplained deaths. If I had to guess, they came up with this to cover up the fact that these people actually died due to the experiments their bastard scientists did to them. Now look at this,” Percy continues, typing away and accessing a list of the deceased. Eighty goddamn seven of those were unexplained.

A twisted feeling crawls up my spine, reminding me of the government program I was forced into.

??? ??, 2074.

Lined up, waiting for what’s about to come next, I stood beside Mag. My lanky limbs were tense, and the skin of my neck felt sickeningly tender, the collar around it making it bulge. From the corner of my eye, I look at my fellow trainees, all six of them.

Out of the hundreds of people they brought in, only the seven of us survived.

Sergeant Williams steps in the room, and all of us move in unison to salute, starched black uniforms barely creasing as we raised our arm for the gesture.

“Listen up, maggots! Out of the four hundred seventy three recruits we had for rehabilitation, only the seven of you didn’t wash out, drop dead, or ate a gun. Consider this the greatest honor, for you are now considered rehabilitated from commie propaganda,” he barks, barely concealing his Texan drawl, spittle flying everywhere.

“Consider this the greatest honor, for you are now ready to dedicate your worthless goddamn lives to the USA! You are to follow every damn command issued to you by whoever holds your contracts! You were trained for this singular purpose, are we clear?”

Our voices filled the room as we shouted “Yes sir!” in unison.

That was the day I was given my name.

The sergeant christened me as Charon, burning away whatever was left of Artyom Volkov, or so he thought.

Out of the hundreds of souls that got wasted from the Enclave’s bullshit, I somehow managed to survive, and I still intend to continue surviving. I have my partner Percy, that jackass DeLoria, and the dog now.

I pull myself back to the present as my partner shuts down the terminal, turning to the medical safe and taking whatever supplies we can get.

“C’mon. I don’t wanna linger here any more,” she whispers, a small tremble in her voice.

Following her to a corridor, the red lights glower over us almost ominously as we pass by several holding cells. The goosebumps on whatever’s left of my skin intensify. It was cold, desolate.

Until some crazy fuck lunged at us from behind a reinforced glass window and scared the living daylights out of Percy, who screams in surprise and bumps into me. Out of instinct, I catch her, and use my body to shield her.

The man continued to bang on the window as we both recovered from the damn surprise, a frown on my face as I took a closer look. The poor guy’s been driven mad from being held there. I doubt we can save him.

Of course, what happened made us look inside the rest of the holding cells.

I regret doing so immediately.

Centaurs, blobs of vaguely fucking human abominations and other unsightly shit occupied the holding cells. Percy is visibly disturbed, gagging, her helmet retracting just in case she vomits from the sights.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she curses, sweat dripping from her brow despite the cold. “We should put them out of their misery.”

“Do you really want to deal with them right now?” I ask her as her eyes watered from the scene. “Let’s just come back for them once we retrieve the GECK,” I continue, gently placing my hand on her upper back.

Percy nods, and wordlessly forges on.

As we rounded a corner, we heard a brash voice ringing through an intercom.

“It can’t be!”

Both of us turn towards the sound. Slowly, cautiously, we creeped at the source, and we saw the unthinkable.

A super mutant is locked behind a holding cell. He’s standing next to the window, looking at my partner and I in surprise. Then, he continued talking. Not the broken speech you’d expect from a mutie, but full, actual sentences.

“Either you are quite real, or I’m going quite mad. Could you actually be a pure human?” the super mutant asks, gawking at Percy. Just to be safe, I remain at her side, still gauging if he can be trusted. “And this… is he another of the experiments, like me?” he continues, addressing my presence.

“Yes, I’m human. He is a ghoul. He’s like that because of the radiation and not an experiment, I’m afraid,” Percy replies, stepping closer to the glass to stare at him back, craning her neck to get a better view of him. What’s left of his jumpsuit are in tatters, and he loomed over the window, as big as the uglies who were dumber than him, if not even bigger. Even I had to crane my own neck upwards. This guy dwarfed me.

Damn, is this what Percy feels like when she’s with me?

“But what are you?” Percy asks.

“Me? You care who I am?” he asks, and I can almost hear Percy’s heart break at the question. He seemed like an outcast, locked away like this. I get the feeling he’s exactly on good terms with the mutants that roam the vault.

“I’m not used to pleasantries, forgive me. I’m more used to being struck around by the others,” he responds, pressing a meaty hand against the glass. Just as I thought. Guy’s an outcast.

“My name is Fawkes. I’ve lived in this cage… all my life.”

I looked at Percy and expected the sympathetic expression on her face. One look at that face and I already damn know she’s thinking of how to help him out.

“I’m Percy Zhou,” my partner introduces herself. “This is Charon.”

“A friendly mutie. Now I’ve seen everything,” I comment, and I hear Fawkes groan.

“Must you use that vulgar term?” he laments, face twisting in disdain, or disappointment, or an approximation of either seeing how the movements of his face muscles are limited. “Indeed I was born in the F.E.V. Chambers, but super mutant I am not. I prefer the term Meta Human. Suits me better, don’t you think?”

I was taken aback. I mean, damn, this guy sounds smarter than DeLoria. Hell, he sounds smarter than me. And that’s what makes him dangerous; if the dumb ones are a menace, imagine the damage a smart one can do.

“Percy, I think we should go. He might be dangerous,” I mumble, and Fawkes moves even closer to us, a shift in his tone.

“No, please! I haven’t had a single civil conversation all my life! Don’t go,” he begs, and though his voice is grating and booming like the rest of the super mutants, you can almost hear pain behind it.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Percy reassures him, pressing a small hand against the dirty window as a gesture of camaraderie. Then, she whips her head towards me, and whispers. “Charon, he’s lonely. Don’t you think he deserves even just a polite conversation?”

Grumbling, I fold my arms and nod. Percy smiles softly, and turns to Fawkes again. “Is your name really Fawkes? Like Guy Fawkes, the man who was involved in a plot to end his people’s persecution by assassinating a king?”

Fawkes seems delighted that Percy knew that tidbit of information. “Ah! You know your history as well! Yes, the name comes from a man who was willing to fight and die for what he believed in. I found it fitting, given my current circumstances. I’ve taken it from a historical entry in the computer,” he replies, gesturing to the terminal in his cell.

As they continued their conversation, I scanned for any threats that might befall us. What’s left of my ears picked up something from their chat, and my head whips towards Percy.

“I’ll get you out,” she said.

I frowned and folded my arms. “Percy, what the hell are you doing?”

“Charon, Fawkes said that the chamber holding the GECK is highly irradiated, and he can get it for us. Don’t you think it’s a good trade? He can have his freedom, and we can get what we came here for.”

“And I’m immune to radiation too. I’ll take the GECK,” I tell her, straightening my back subconsciously out of bravado.  “We don’t know if he can be trusted. For all we know, the moment he gets out of his cell, he’ll attack us!”

“You’re not an errand boy, you’re my partner. That’s perfectly reasonable, but we’ve handled mutants before, Charon. If he gives any indication that he’s going to betray us, you’re free to empty your clip on him.”

This is starting to turn into an argument. I massaged my temples, frowning. “I’m not going to take that risk. I need to protect you.”

“What if he’s actually decent, and we just leave him here to rot and be tormented by the other mutants? You have your freedom now, Charon. Don’t you think he deserves his too?” Percy almost shouts, voice raised, and on her tiptoes.

Her words made me pause. Percy just had to go there, didn’t she? And it was effective too. I look at the big, green super mutant, or Meta Human, whatever he wanted to call himself, and a pang of guilt tugs at my gut.

Grumbling, I relent and nod.

This woman’s heart might be the death of her one day. Setting Fawkes free better be worth it.

[moiralovestowrite]

A Titan’s Gamble Chapter 4

The moment Ryan stepped into the Spider’s den a horrible stench overcame him. The man’s dark brown eyes instantly watered, it was so powerful it almost knocked the Titan off his feet, causing Drifter to let out a chuckle. The older man was used to this, the shit he smelt when he was out on his own trying to survive, this was fresh air compared to his adventures. It was a mixture of gasoline, blood and sweat. There were other scents hidden within the stench but Ryan wasn’t exactly interested in finding out what they were. Drifter walked ahead of the man with Erebus directly by his back, she was clearly protecting him, making sure nothing could get to him when his attention was forward. They must have done this thousands of times. Their movements were almost snake like, they trusted each other to the moon and back. Ryan was behind the woman, constantly checking over his shoulder. As they walked the Titan thought he realized his role in this whole operation. He was the muscle, Drifter was going to use him to try and scare whatever was down there. The Titan prayed that he could fit the role and that nothing went awry. Little did the man know that he wasn’t there to strike fear into anyone. He was part of a deal. After a few minutes of thin hallways, they made their way up to one of the strongest fallen in the universe. Drifter had said it’s name was Spider, the only law on the Shore. The creature was bigger than any Fallen Ryan had ever seen. It’s stomach bounced as the Eliksni spoke and coughed, it’s eyes were like daggers piercing into someone’s soul. It held a royal kind of energy, someone who gives orders and plans attacks. Ryan knew very little of the Fallen. The Titan in a way felt responsible for the Traveler leaving the Eliksni. The strange god had decided to bless them, abandoning the Fallen, letting them suffer in the darkness and made them become pirates, mercenaries, desperately trying to find a new home. It turned the Titan’s stomach, causing Ryan to try and forget any information about the race. It only reminded the Guardian that the Traveler could leave them without even a moment’s notice. “Ah, if it isn’t my little...Friends.” The Spider spat his words at the Drifter, his right arm fiddling with what appeared to be a dead ghost while his other arms rested on his legs. The Titan’s eyes snapped onto the dead ghost shell, anger beginning to rise. What the hell?! The Eliksni smirked, seeing that he had caught Ryan’s attention. The creature’s gaze moved on from Drifter’s form and onto the Guardian. “I see you brought a new pet.” Clearly this was a jab at Erebus but the woman neither moved nor spoke. What’s your name?” The Titan’s fist clenched as he attempted to tear his eyes off the dead ghost. Quickly, his brown eyes met with the fat Spider’s, it was clear the creature was trying to dominant him. “Ryan. Maybe stop playing with a dead thing huh? Show it some respect.” The Titan snapped, refusing to let his eye contact with Spider sway. The creature was silent for a moment before he broke into laughter. “Have it your way.” Suddenly, Spider crushed the ghost shell within his hand and let the bits of metal tumble to the ground. “Whoops…” Ryan’s eyes sharpened as he felt his face turn hot. The Titan’s form flinched as he felt a cold hand on his back through his armor. It was Erebus attempting to calm him down. She moved from Drifter, standing next to the Guardian giving him a look. With a deep breath Ryan tore his eyes away from Spider, allowing the Fallen to win the battle of dominancy and took a step back. Erebus gave the man a nod of thanks before she made her way back over to Drifter. The Fallen watched the woman return to her boss’s side. The creature had an interest in her, if only he could get his fingers on the snake. If he had her, Spider was certain Drifter would do anything to get her back. “Maybe someday I can see under that mask, perhaps I would lessen the price of some supplies.” The Spider purred at the woman. The brunette did not respond as she stood silently next to her boss. She was like a brick wall. Drifter purred right back at Spider. “See, she only does that for people she likes, maybe toss in a few extra things and we can see about next time huh?” The fallen clearly did not appreciate the teasing but he let it slide for the moment. “You did your part. The Glimmer is on it’s way to the tower, no tricks. Here’s your payment.” The Spider gestured to one of it’s foot soldier's holding a rather large black box. It had a strange energy humming from it. The old man’s smile was all teeth as he snapped his fingers. Erebus moved instantly, walking over to the Fallen Spider had by his side. The creature was holding the package as tightly as he could, terrified of the girl. She could almost taste the Eliksni’s fear. The woman ripped the package from the creature’s four arms and returned to her bosses side. Drifter opened the package in Erebus’s grasp as she held it out for him. With a satisfied smile, Drifter closed the package and gave Spider a nod. “Now, I have another deal for ya. I heard you were having problems with a prince.” The giant fallen’s head tilted, clearly interested in what Drifter had to say. The Shore had become an absolute mess. “I know someone who’s more than willing to take the man out, maybe even help with the Trickster and the others. For the right price.” Ryan’s eyes widened. This was it, the moment Drifter proved he would help the Titan out. But this wasn’t what they discussed. Was Drifter using him as a pawn? “And what is that price…” The Spider growled, his fingers beginning to twitch. “Simple, ya know that power supply you’ve been hiding from me? Maybe old Drifter can finally get his hands on it.” The creature went deep into thought as he debated the deal. It was clear the Eliksni didn’t trust the Drifter but the thought of restoring law to the shore and destroying those bastards was more than appealing. All of Spider’s trade routes would be clear and perhaps a Guardian wandering through the place could bring a new kind of fear and respect to the Spider. All those who dare to disobey would meet a painful end by the hands of a Titan. It was too good to be true. Ryan’s face twisted with emotion as he glared at the Drifter. He didn’t like this, this was gonna end badly, the man just knew it. After minutes of silence, no one moving and no one daring to make a sound, the Spider let out a sigh and put on his best face. “A deal’s a deal. You get the power supply the moment the shore’s clean to my standards. If it isn’t done by two weeks, you can kiss the power supply and your glimmer to the tower goodbye.” Drifter’s shoulders visibly flinched. The old man knew this was a terrible idea but he had to place it all on the Titan. With a charming smile and a shrug of his shoulders, Drifter nodded and spoke. “Sounds like a deal to me. Care to give us a lead?” The man asked in a rough voice. It was clear Drifter was playing a part, attempting not to care, pretending that this didn’t matter to him at all but in truth everything was riding on this. He needed that power supply, this is why he needed Ryan in the first place. Gambit wouldn’t be able to grow and evolve without it, of course the most stuck up creature in the universe had their grubby little fingers on it, unable to tell it’s worth. “The Rider has a den, not far from the main road. You can grab her attention easily if you can find her pikes. Her garage is nearby...” The Spider purred once more before giving a wave of his hand. Instantly the foot soldiers by his sides began to raise their weapons and walk towards the group. “See you in two weeks my friends.” Drifter quickly began to back up, Erebus stood in front of her boss as she gestured for the Titan to follow. Ryan had no complaints as he followed the two out of the den.

The moment they stepped out of the horrid den Ryan took a deep breath, thanking the Traveler that he didn’t have to take in that stench anymore. Ryan’s fists began to twitch as his mind screamed in anger. That fucker, this wasn’t part of the deal! He would help out but not like this! Cayde-6’s murderer was still out there and they were chasing one of his lackeys?! What good would this do?! Drifter’s hands went deep into his hair as his mind traveled from thought to thought. This became more intertwined with his own goals than he had wanted. If Ryan couldn’t do this, he could kiss everything goodbye. The woman saw the stress in Drifter’s eyes and gave the man a gentle pat on the back. The Drifter turned his gaze to Erebus and smiled at her genuinely. Ryan didn’t even think the man could be genuine about anything. “So was this always your plan? Use me to get what you want? Our goals cross paths and you think you can just use me?” The Titan’s voice was rough and deep, glaring at the two as he began to take long strides towards them. Erebus was quick to stand in front of Drifter, like it was a habit to protect the man. “Hey hey, Easy!” Drifter carefully moved from behind the woman’s protection and gave Ryan a look. “Ya knew I needed something from you from the start, You agreed to this...remember?” The older man’s voice was like gravel as the Titan sighed and placed a hand on the back of his neck. He was too hot headed for his own good some days. Drifter was right, he was the one who agreed to help with deals even if it ended in misery. Plus, rouge was straight forward with him the day they met. Dammit, why was Ryan like this? Swallowing his pride, Ryan looked Drifter in the eye and crossed his arms against his chest. “I’m sorry.” “Sorriest thing I’ve ever seen.” The man spat out.

“Boss, do you really want me to help?” The woman asked, confused on Drifter’s plan. He had always kept her as a guard, constantly by his side. If she hid her face and never spoke, no one would know where to look for her, she was as good as a ghost. Drifter liked it that way, she was his dirty little secret, a plan B that never expired. If she got caught and someone noticed her then that plan B would be good as gone. With a nod, the older man spoke seeing the confusion in his partner’s eyes. “Listen, if he doesn’t do this, we can kiss Gambit goodbye.” The woman’s teeth grit as worry covered her face. She didn’t like leaving Drifter alone for too long. The man always found trouble. “Then you have to promise me that you’ll stay on the Derelict and you wait.” Drifter laughed and patted the woman on the shoulder. “Hey who’s the boss here?” The man joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Erebus sighed and quickly hugged the man before she pulled back, refusing to give him anytime to react. Drifter was terrible with affection. “We’ll see you soon boss.” Drifter’s face slightly brightened with a red before he smirked, winking at the woman. With that, the man transported onto the Derelict and began his long wait. Erebus turned to Ryan, the Titan was already figuring out routes and ways to reach the Rider. “Alright, where do we start?” The woman asked, walking right up into the Titan’s personal space. Taking a step back from the snake lady Ryan spoke. “Here.” The man pointed to the road directly in front of them. “Apparently she has a den you can only enter if you have the keys, her goons have to them. They’re all riding pikes, we’ll need to steal two in order to get into the den either way.” The brunette nodded before she quickly ran into the middle of the road. A group of Scorn were already heading their way, luckily enough it was exactly the one’s they wanted. Each pike had a special flag on the back, The Rider had groups of her scorn riding around the Tangled Shore every twenty minutes or so as a fear tactic. Nothing could get on the roads without being shot down by those pikes. Erebus wasn’t waiting around. Leaving Drifter to his own devices meant she could be returning to a ship completely engulfed with flames. As the Scorn aimed their pikes for the girl, she waited. “Three...Two...ONE!” She cried out, her hands slammed upon the dirt road causing a giant wall of ice to shoot up from the ground. Each Scorn smashed into the wall, their pikes flying in different directions while the bodies of the Eliksni lay battered and broken. The ice vanished in an instant and the woman ran for one of the lesser destroyed bikes. “Grab one!” Erebus called out to the Titan who had been standing there with his jaw completely dropped. What was that power? There was no way it was from the Traveler. Now that the man thought about it, he had never seen the woman pull out a ghost. What was she? Shaking himself back into action, Ryan ran for the bodies of the Scorn. Each one was laying like a rag doll, their limbs facing different directions. As Ryan quickly searched the corpses he found what seemed to be two gold plated keys for the den. Perfect. As he grabbed a pike, Erebus quickly revved her engine and began to drive, Ryan was quick to follow. “So where are we going?!” The woman called out, looking beside her. The Titan was incredibly good at driving that damn thing, almost a natural. He caught up to her in seconds which was impressive. “To the Boils!” The woman nodded as the two shot through the Tangled Shore.

It only took them minutes to arrive. The Tangled Shore looked huge but in reality it was quite a small place. As the two drove, their eyes instantly fell upon what seemed to be a raiding party. It was directly in front of what had to be the Rider’s den entrance if the Spider had been telling the truth. Cabal had set up shop and the Scorn were fighting tooth and nail to get rid of them. The Titan watched as scorn harassed and destroyed the disgusting creatures. A part of him didn’t want to stop it, he enjoyed watching the Cabal get wrecked after what they did to the tower and the Traveler. The creatures took everything from them, this was like free therapy. Erebus was quick to jump off her pike and run towards the mess of fighting. Her hands became engulfed with ice but the Titan was quicker. Suddenly a flaming hammer flew past the woman’s head, her eyes widened as she jumped to the side, barely dodging the projectile, startled from the attack that came behind her. The hammer flew into the group of Scorn and Cabal, causing flames and a small explosion. The creatures flew through the air, dying almost instantly. The woman’s brown eyes were filled with confusion. She had never seen the light used this way. Another hammer flew towards the scattering enemies, quickly taking them out and ending their life's in a second. Were all Guardian’s this strong? DID HE JUST SUMMON A HAMMER?! The Titan’s body was covered in flames as he stood beside the shocked snake lady “What, you never see a Titan fight before?” The man teased. The woman shook her head. “Not like that…” Erebus was fairly sheltered in a way. Drifter was the only lightbearer she knew. He was there the day she was re-born and any other Guardian she crossed paths with were normally so corrupt by the Darkness that they couldn’t use anything other than Stasis. It was strange to see a Titan using his powers so fully, un-tempted by the dark. Ryan felt proud for a moment, normally he was the one impressed by the girl. He still didn’t know what powers she had, the man had no understanding of the Dark and it’s ice. One day he would. But it was too soon for that. The two quickly made their way into the tunnel behind the dead Cabal.

“Zavala, what’s happened to you?!” Ikora cried out, blood dripping from her stomach. The Titan glared down at the woman as she struggled to get to her feet. The Vanguard had lost his mind, there was no light in his eyes, only darkness and grief. The Warlock had simply wanted to check up on her friend but before she could even get a word in, a bullet shot directly through her form. Ikora didn’t dare summon her ghost, fearful of what her former friend would do. “I Woke Up.” The man snarled out taking loud thundering steps towards the woman. The warlock quickly began to back up, not wanting to hurt her fire team member. “Woke up? You’re making no sense! Look at you, Cayde wouldn’t want this!” With quick movements, Zavala aimed his sidearm at Ikora once more and pulled the trigger. The Warlock struggled a dodge, causing her form to leap to the side, crashing into the man’s bookshelf. “He would realize that this was the way.” Ikora’s teeth grit as she attempted to run for the office door. She had to get Shaxx. Another bullet fired.

“RYAN!” Yogi’s voice broke through the Titan’s head as the man used a stolen pike to jump over boiling water. The ghost was trying desperately to get his Guardian to focus, calling out enemy locations left and right. The moment the two entered the den Scorn were on them instantly. Ryan and Erebus had been lucky enough to steal pikes and shoot down wave after wave of them but they were struggling to keep up with the Rider. Her laughter taunted the Titan as the man went as fast as he could after her. “YOU’RE SLOW!” The creature sung out, taking turns faster than Ryan could register them. As the Rider prepared to take another corner and lose the man, Erebus’s pike flew out from no where, the woman had angled it perfectly from above. The Rider looked up a second too late, the creature realized that she couldn’t escape as the flying pike rammed straight into her bike and form. Erebus had jumped off seconds before the collision, her body tumbling onto the harsh rocks. The Rider’s pike exploded, flames roaring from the scrapes of the bike. Ryan pulled his pike to a stop, he scrambled from the bike, attempted to reach the woman’s form but before he could even take a step the Rider emerged from the flames, roaring with anger. Her shot gun blasted straight for the Titan, Ryan’s feet came to a halt as his brain went into panic mode. Shit. He had no escape from the bullets. Suddenly an ice wall shot straight up in front of the Titan, taking the bullets like they were no issue. Erebus struggled to her feet, her body covered in ice. Her mask had split in the middle, struggling to stay on her face. “It’s On Bitch.” The woman hissed, charging at the Scorn. Ryan smirked as the ice wall vanished, running to the woman’s side as he’s form became covered in flames. A red hot hammer appeared in the man’s hands as he began throwing them at the Rider while Erebus threw a fist full of ice, it traveled along the ground, colliding with the Rider’s form, freezing the Scorn so that the hammer could hit her square on. The creature cried out in pain as the two pummeled her, Ryan’s fists sank deep into the creature’s skin while Erebus’s ice sliced part of the Scorn’s arm off. The fight ended almost as soon as it started. The shot gun blasts couldn’t land a solid hit on the two, The woman was too quick and Ryan’s flaming body simply melted the bullets. They were an insane team. The creature let out one last pitiful laugh before she collapsed onto the ground, her body shaking as blue blood dripped from her form. A smirk crossed onto the Rider’s lips as she gasped. “You-you’ll die just like The Cayde-6!” Suddenly the Scorn pulled a small green button from her clothing pocket, her thumb slammed the button as her eyes rolled back into her head. Loud beeping echoed from every corner of the den, Erebus’s eyes filled with fear as she grabbed onto the Titan’s arm. “RUN!” She cried out. Ryan reacted instantly. “Sparrow, NOW!” Yogi was quick to comply, Ryan grabbed onto the woman, holding her by the waist and pulling her onto the bike as Ryan drove as fast as he could towards the den’s exit. The beeping began to quicken as he took the turns better than before. “Hurry!” The woman cried, her eyes scanning the area. She was so busy chasing the Rider down she hadn’t noticed the entire area was covered in old land mines, bombs, every kind of explosive. As the two reached the last turn before the exit, the bombs let out one last beep before exploding. They were so damn close to escaping. A loud bang emerged from deep within the cave before a cloud of fire, metal and dust began charging the two. The power of the bombs rocked the two off the sparrow and they flew through the air. Their bodies flew out of the den’s exit, crashing and tumbling as flames burst forth. Metal and god knows what else shot out of the Den’s entrance hitting both Erebus and the Titan, hard. Their forms became cut and bruised, they struggled to find cover as the ground shook. The woman crawled on her hands and knees behind a weak pillar of stone while the Titan scrambled for a dead cabal. He propped the creature up and hid in front of it like he was using a shield. After minutes of endless pain, the flames calmed and the last bit of metal flew out from the cave. It was over.

The Rider was a taste of what was to come. The two may have been battered and bruised but it was only the beginning. Ryan smiled through bleeding lips, The woman knew how to fight, she was like a hunter and a warlock mixed into one. Watching her defeat crowds of Scorn in a matter of seconds was nothing short of exhilarating. Erebus smiled back at Ryan, blood trickling down from her nose and onto her lips. The Titan was a wonderful ally, he was strong, fast, he took more hits than she thought he could. A part of her thought they would make a wonderful team. Another part of the woman realized that he was still a goody two shoes and she would have to pay him to keep his mouth shut. Snitch. Erebus’s broken mask dangled from her ears before she got annoyed and ripped it off completely. Ryan’s left leg was completely shattered and his stomach was bleeding rapidly. The woman watched with worry in her brown eyes. She couldn’t hide it, she had grown attached to the Titan. Before she could even step in to help, Yogi appeared instantly, scanning and gently healing each of his partner’s wounds. “Do you have to be this reckless?!” The ghost growled out. The Titan laughed as his leg healed in a matter of seconds. Ryan got to his feet like he hadn’t been completely destroyed by an explosion. Erebus gripped onto her broken arm and struggled to her feet, limping as she walked. They needed to get to the Derelict. Ryan decided to bite, asking a question he didn’t think he had to ask. “Do you have a ghost?” Erebus laughed weakly, her hand clutching her broken arm. “I do.” She said simply, not giving the Titan the information he wanted. “Then heal.” Ryan’s form stood in front of the girl, refusing to let her continue until she recovered. The brunette turned her gaze away from the man and looked like she was deep in thought. After minutes of silence and Ryan refusing to budge the woman let out a sigh of defeat. It was clear they were going to be working together for awhile so might as well bite the bullet now. “I can’t. My ghost can’t...do things yours can. Look, Boss man can patch me up, I’ll be ready for the next Scorn in no time, now please. This really fucking hurts.” Annoyance filled the air as the woman shoved past the Titan. She appreciated the act of kindness but it was not wanted. Ryan’s eyes filled with confusion as he took in Erebus’s words. “What do you mean it can’t? Is it damaged? All ghost’s can, what do you mean it can’t!?” His voice grew louder as he pressed the issue. “Now isn’t the time, My arm is broken, I’m bleeding, can I please get to my ship before I die and Boss man sobs over my corpse?! He’s a real ugly crier.” Ryan’s jaw tightened as the man kept his words inwards. He wanted nothing more than to keep pressing, he knew he could get his answers this way. “Then will you tell me why after?” The Titan grabbed Erebus by the shoulder, causing the woman to flinch in pain. “FINE! NOW PLEASE!” She shouted, before ripping from the Titan’s grip.

As the two transported onto the Derelict Erebus fell to her knees. Damn this fucking hurt. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes but she was quick to shake them away. Drifter’s large form quickly came into view as he stared at the two. “Moira!” The man cried out, he rushed to her side, helping the woman get to her feet. “Shit. I’ll fix ya up kid.” Ryan’s eyes widened. Moira? Was that the girl’s real name? Before the Titan could even offer to help Drifter began to pull her form towards one of those strange machines he had at the tower. He called it a bank didn’t he? The woman was placed into a flimsy looking chair and the man pulled out a small white mote. The Titan’s eyes filled with even more confusion as the snake lady took it into her hands and began to...absorb it? With a flash of darkness, all lights on the Derelict went out. “The hell!?” Ryan cried out, running over to where Drifter and Erebus once were. Suddenly the lights returned and the woman was standing by Drifter’s side, her wounds completely healed and her mask repaired. Erebus smiled gently at Drifter, joy and much more in her eyes. But Drifter didn’t return the look, his eyes were fixed on the Titan who was staring at them like they were monsters. “How…” The older man stepped away from Erebus as the girl quickly straightened her jacket and fixed her hair. She seemed completely unbothered by the Titan seeing what had just happened. She had trust for him, unlike the Drifter. “Ya say something kid?” The rouge lightbearer asked with a hiss in his tone. “What. Was. That?” The Titan demanded, not giving in to Drifter’s fear tactic’s. The man smirked and laughed. “Something you ain’t ready to deal with.” Ryan snarled, Yogi appearing by his side. “She’s not a Guardian...She’s made of-” Suddenly Yogi got caught off as Ikora’s voice rang through the ghost’s body “RYAN! WE NEED YOU, NOW! GET TO THE TOWER!” There was screeching, crying, the sounds of flames. Suddenly the feed was cut and the group were staring at each other with confusion. “We need to go, Now.” Yogi stated, turning to look at the Drifter. “Let’s go.” The Derelict began to make it’s way back to the tower. No one could have prepared them for what came next.

[lexiconoffear]

Well, what do you know? A tragic glimpse to my right presents a view of a little stranger with a charm for whispering nonsense to the air. Fucking Harper Lee over there is writing shit all on her frosted green MacBook with the creativity of a blunt hacksaw. That she casually smiles with a hint of disdain towards those that give her the stern eye when she infrequently cowers behind Jane Austen books is nothing less than revolting. Why do I sound surprised to see these people at Verve? All of them with the usual brand of “I want to make it in Hollywood too”. Here’s a newsflash for you. Stop pretending that you like to read Lady Susan and Sanditon. Oh and Miss Fucking Perfect, we know you haven’t read any classics in your sunny shell of an existence. I would also like to add that drinking five cups of mint mocha and mumbling your shitty screenwriting lines is a non-starter with any professional worth a damn. It’s insulting that people like you think otherwise. But you like giving out shitty blowjobs to every one of your followers on Insta if it gets you some undivided attention. The nerve. For once, I would like to rip open her fucking head and look inside. But we all can’t take unnecessary risks. Can we Joe? Cut to our little hideaway in that golden Americana cul-de-sac. Repose feels great in the evening. Some might beg to differ. Now, it’s time for some pressing news. Shock. Horror. A domestic violence case in our own quaint suburbia. To say that I'm intrigued to see how you handle this crisis is a bit of an understatement. Typical. Color me fucking surprised. You try to console yourself with many crafted truths. A bad case of false reporting. Lack of circumstantial evidence. You even blame it on something out of your control. But I'm glad to hear that you’re slowly dying on the inside. The world can finally find comfort in knowing what a stand-up guy you are, Joe Goldberg. You want a do-over? Some respite from public heat? No bueno. Why will it be any different this time Joe? Do you honestly think that low of me? Every word you espoused was a lie. Like crimson etches that forever stains our vision of what’s real. Comeuppance is nothing but a decorum now. The viewers of the media and our community love to crucify every fucker that slowly chips away at the perfect household image. The perfect family. Our fucking so called perfect lives as couples that be. But that’s the least of your concerns. What you should worry about most is a woman who owns her narrative. Her story. Her triumphs. She doesn’t pretend to be some victim of circumstance. She is a fucking survivor. Fucking America loves this piece to death. People love it. They all can't get enough of that shit. As soon as it's served up, everyone eats it up like magic rice. You were too oblivious to see what is at stake here. Don’t give me that dirty look as if you're entitled to it. Really, it’s a fitting retribution. Any scorned lover would see this punishment as fit for the crime committed. Did you think for once that the cost to all the insanity you inflicted was justified? Has nothing sacred ever matter to the likes of you? You weren’t like this before we grew and settled. Those restless struggles. Endless disputes. Our relationship certainly wasn’t the easy paradise that we pictured in our minds. That much I can tell you. But it was worth fighting for. Nothing else meant more than the first word we chose to define our union. Don’t tell me it meant nothing the moment you pulled closer at a wedding and reassured me with vows that came to be. Don’t you dare lie to me and say that our love was an illusion that ended while we fucked each other in my third trimester. When you saw me for the first time at Anavrin, you witnessed that wonder. A one-of-a-kind love. That incited all this madness and ecstasy. I was the cool girl you envisioned in your hopeless dreams. That cool girl who did everything right. Who like every asshole envisions as the definitive girl they like to fuck and bring to their family home for Christmas. Manic pixie version. She is that fucking cool girl. The same girl with a mouth that is sure to win some prizes in any department. What a fucking joke. To think that I shaped myself to be the ultimate lover. Unmatched in both scale and vision. Did you think that my fucking name was a joke to you? Yes, that’s a rhetorical question by the way. One fucking word. Love. How the fuck did you fuck that up? My charming hardened New Yorker guy with a wounded soul. I remember when you were different. Smitten by a dumb joke about fucking fruit of all things. I saw that darkness in your eyes. A wit that followed with a charming presence. Can’t also deny you weren’t easy on the eyes either. This had to be it. The thing we both searched for our entire lives. Love. In Hollywood of all places. You were all in and nothing else mattered. I loved you unconditionally. Yeah, that’s a fucking cliché if I hear it again. We fucked each other, blew one another and rose in the morning like fucking squirrels on mescaline. Perhaps, that’s a little too intimate for the ears. Forgive me for not censoring shit that needs to be heard. So, how the hell did we end up here? Call me a little jaded now, if I don't look back at our history with rose-tinted glasses. I should have seen the signs. Yes, love can make us do terrible things and be blind to each other's faults. That's a fucking given. But I never thought I would lose trust in you. The one who finally brought a sense of ease to my heart. The same guy who later cheated on me and fucked a woman from behind. Our neighbor no less. On a day that very well should have marked the death of me. Just one glance and I saw the vision of our nuclear family undone. All you ever pursue is another work of project in sight. That’s how your fucking story always is. Just like Delilah. Just like Beck. Add that cutthroat bitch with a revenge agenda to the fucking equation too. You killed assholes. Left. Right. Center. Yet, you stand there and face me with a familiar look. A smugness that reeks of self-righteousness. That appearance of hypocrisy. The very look my mother gave me when I didn’t do my part in taking good care of Forty. The same look is all I see now. Disappointment. Disgust. Revulsion. Like a damaged commodity that you pass on when you’re done. You didn’t even have the balls to tell me what you really felt. It’s all a delusion that you hold to encourage that shitty desire of buying new merchandise with an exclusive item on the side that some cunt upsells you at Walmart. Forgiving the unforgivable is not in my fucking rule book. You think you can get away. Unscathed. Unfazed. Unhurt. No, you don’t. No fucking way Joe. Now, I know the truth. I wasn’t destiny. I wasn’t love. The worst part is that you made me believe in hope. Made me hold onto faith. Then, you reduced me to a foil in your self-absorbed romance story. But make no mistake, you will pay the price. Mark my fucking words. Don't think I won't make plans well ahead in advance to fuck you over. You will see what I'll bring to the table. I must thank you though. You brought something else out of me. Something I tried to hide for a very long time. All it took was a little nudge in the right direction. The follow up act was less painful. But you wouldn’t care, would you Joe? You never thought about family. The lengths that many would go to protect their kind. To spare them of any anguish. A quick head dash into a collective antique vase from Montalcino should do the trick. Maybe, a little cut on the arm with a help of a few broken shards. That will save myself from the shame. From the silent screams. The undying pain. Nothing compares to the deep cuts of the heart. All I see now is a vivid painting of torture. Filled with cinnabar streaks all over the Vermillion carpet that my late brother cherished. What a perfect expression of grief. The dull ache. The fading memories. The wild stench of blood. When your other half dies, nothing eclipses the misery of loss. That’s what I told myself. Family is everything. It always came first. Above all else. But when I fell in love again, my entire perspective changed. Until reality hit me in the face. Sheared off in patches and defiled like every other celebration past the fourth of July. Do you really think I wouldn’t see to it that justice will be sought for the unseen wounds, the unheard abuse, and the million masks people like you wear to fool their loved ones? Don’t kid yourself Joe. It’s time we put an end to this fantasy. One way or another.

Love Quinn (YOU)

[tarteausuga]

killing boys

Jaehyun (NCT) x Reader [x Chaeyoung (Twice)] angst, implied wlw cw: cheating, strong language, sexual content word count: 2.1k Inspired by killing boys by Halsey

"You're killing people." “No, I'm killing boys. Boys are just placeholders, they come and they go." "You're my best friend, and I wanna help you. But I won't let you kill again, that's a lose-lose."

You could only describe it as the worst pain you've ever felt in your life. Even worse than that time your older brother body slammed you while you were "playing WWE" with him and you ended up breaking your arm in 2 spots and a broken collar bone. It was even worse than the period pains that felt like someone was jamming a blunt knife into your abdomen. The only thing was that it wasn't a physical pain or something your body was actually experiencing physiologically. It was the strongest emotional pain ever and it threw your life for a loop.

Eating was the last thing you wanted to do and you had run out of people to vent to about the current worst thing that's ever happened to you. But your childhood best friend always had a way of making her way into your life at the best/worst times. 

Chaeyoung was always a free spirit compared to your more grounded personality. She was usually always out doing something while you were at home watching Netflix. She would occasionally show up at random times, knocking on your window when she needed a place to sleep for the night. But she always had a keen sense of how you were feeling because her visits, despite his chaotic she was at times, calmed you from whatever was going on in your life.

"Hey Charlie Brown, what's up?" She says the moment you open the front door of your house. She had arrived with two bags full of convenience store food: three of each of your favourite chocolates, drinks, chips and anything else you could want in the moment.

"When are you going to stop calling me that?" You form a weak smile as she drops the bags onto the floor before pulling you into one of her signature chokeholds that are her version of hugs.

"Never. You're my lovable loser. Bedroom, I brought your favourite foods and your favourite movies." She doesn't even wait for you to say yes. You quickly rustle up the bags before peddling up after her.

She's greeted by the mess that was your room. Normally fairly neat and tidy, it looked like a hurricane had ripped through as you attempted to erase any memory or any chance of an object conjuring up an unwanted memory that would cause you that unbearable pain again. Chaeyoung glanced at you empathetically as she waded through the waste and jumped onto your bed. She pulled the laptop out from the bag and turned it on before patting the space next to her for you to join her.

The two of you watched the movie without speaking much to each other. The only noises were from the movie and the crinkling of wrappers as you satiated your hunger with the junk food - exactly what you needed.

"So what did the jerk do?" Chaeyoung finally said when she felt that you had a full enough belly to not collapse into a ball of misery and self-pity.

"He was caught with another girl. My friends saw him around town with a girl on his arm. He tried to play it off like she was his cousin but you don't kiss your cousins." You say glumly. You had told this story to so many people that it didn't even hurt anymore. 

"What an idiot. Haven't I told you? Jung Jaehyun was and always will be an ass hat." She chuckles as she leans back on her hands.

"I guess but I've had a crush on him for so long..." You say while playing with the candy wrapper in your hands.

"Right when he completely ignored you in high school and let those dumbass basketball guys make fun of you. Ass hat." She chuckled but this time, out of spite. Chaeyoung was quite known around your old high school of being the tough girl despite her small size. She called out anyone and everyone when they needed to be put in line and every guy was terrified of her as she was known to air out their dirty laundry if they humiliated a girl they dated. She's stood up for you on countless occasions but when you drifted apart in high school, you fell out of her protection as your new friends were unsavoury people to Chaeyoung. "He only started dating you when you became hot."

"Shut up." You threw the wrapper at her but she was right. 

You had graduated a little over 2 years ago and that's when you started becoming more confident in yourself. You carried yourself better and that's when he started to take notice of you. He had made up this elaborate story that he had liked you since high school but deep inside, you knew that wasn't true. You just lied to yourself because you were finally getting the boy of your dreams. 

He was just that. He was everything you wanted until he wasn't. You were convinced that he was the love of your life until he wasn't. Everything was an illusion because apparently, this was not the first time he has cheated on you or any other girl. Despite the warnings, you wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt you… Until he did.

"I thought he was the one, Chae." You say glumly again.

"It can feel like that but I don't believe in it. There are plenty of people out there who would treat you like the peach that you are. Cheer up, Charlie Brown." She nudged you with her elbow with a wink.

She started calling you Charlie Brown when you two became obsessed with the Peanuts comics in middle school. Chaeyoung loved that he was a lovable loser and said that he reminded her of you. She proclaimed that she was Peppermint Patty and you agreed because Chaeyoung was always out there with the most absurd thoughts and ideas.

You had moved on to the second movie and you were now cuddled up with your best friend on your bed. You were about to fall asleep when she suddenly sat up, shocking you out of the sleepy state and said, "let's ruin Jung Jaehyun," with a smile.

"What?" You rub your eyes, "Chaeyoung, no. It's not that big of a deal. I'll get over it." 

"Not a big deal my ass. C'mon, ___, we need to teach him a lesson. Show him that he can't just go around sticking his dick in random places without consequences. It's our duty to any future woman that he might hurt." Chaeyoung says passionately.

You sigh and think about it before admitting defeat. "What are you planning?" You rub the bridge of your nose knowing she has already come up with an elaborate plan of some sort.

---

You park your car a block away from Jaehyun's house as instructed by Chaeyoung but you start having second thoughts. "This is a bad idea, Chae. Let's just go back to my place and finish that movie."

"Don't back out on me now! We're here, let's get it done." She almost hisses at you and you start wondering why she holds so much hate for Jaehyun all of a sudden.

Chaeyoung had always been protective of you from the day you two met in kindergarten. A bully had tried to take the chocolate chip cookie your mom had packed for you to help ease your nerves from your first day at school. You just sat there and cried when Chaeyoung came out of nowhere and snatched the cookie back, said some choice words and gave it to you. Though you had drifted away when high school started, you made new friends in high school from your club activities and Chaeyoung joined cheerleading, she always kept an eye on you. But she's never gone to this extreme.

"We've done some crazy things in the past, Chae, but this is literally illegal. We could go to jail for this!" You grab her wrist.

"Only if we get caught!" She yells in a hushed tone. Her eyes had changed into something more menacing than before.

"Why are you doing this?" You hiss back.

"I can't just standby and let that asshole get away with hurting someone I love." She shakes her hand free and gets out of the car before you can stop her.

In the time it took you to unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car, she was already at Jaehyun's house. You told her everything. The spare key was under the third flower pot on the right. He was usually at basketball practice at this time, then he would go hang out with the boys. It was Friday night so his parents were out for their weekly date night. This used to be the time where you and Jaehyun would have sex as you had the house to yourselves…

Chaeyoung's plan was simple: key his car. Sneak into his room and spray paint something (she didn't tell you what), sneak out and go home.

It was too late to stop her since you weren't a fast runner and you knew perfectly well that it was impossible to stop your best friend from doing anything once her mind was set. All you could do was wait.

You tapped your foot impatiently, trying to make the time go by faster to no avail when suddenly, you heard yelling from down the block. The next thing you knew, Chaeyoung was sprinting down the road yelling at you to start the car. You fumbled with your keys as you tried to do as she said and finally got the engine to start when she hopped into the passenger seat.

"JUST DRIVE" She yelled breathlessly.

You instantly stepped on the gas and look in the rearview mirror to see Jaehyun standing there, furious.

"What the hell happened?" You demand from Chaeyoung.

"That fucker." She laughed as she sunk into the leather of the car seat.

"Chaeyoung!" You glare at her, your knuckles going white from gripping the steering wheel so tight.

"So I keyed that ridiculous car of his and went into the house, no problem right? I mean I took a little longer on the car than I wanted but that was great penmanship considering I was using a damn key but anyway!" She continues, "fuck man, I go in and I just hear shit. It kind of freaked me out because you said the house would be empty right? But I'm like okay whatever, I go to his room and there he was balls deep in some girl." She can't help but laugh and even though you want to cry, you join her. "I'm so sorry Charlie Brown but you deserve so much better."

"Yeah, I know." You stop the car at a red light. You take her hand in yours and kiss it, "Thanks for that, Chae. I needed it."

"Anything for you." She smiles and pulls you in for a kiss.

You pull away with a gasp and look at her with wide eyes before diverting your attention to the road and continuing driving in silence. Your focus was solely on the road as you attempted to try and avoid the feelings you could possibly be feeling. While you were doing this, you failed to notice that Chaeyoung’s energy was dwindling, something she rarely lets other people see. All you could do was drive.

The car pulled up to the curb of Chaeyoung’s house and you put it into park. You finally turned to your best friend and saw how small she truly was for the first time in your life. You easily had a head of height on her but her energy was always so strong and exuberant that her physical size wasn’t even on your mind. But in that moment, she looked so small and vulnerable. The one who was always standing up for you and protecting you has a weakness: you.

“Chaeyoung…” You say quietly but she cuts you off.

“It’s okay, Charlie Brown. It was the heat of a moment thing. Something Bonnie and Clyde would do, you know?” she pasted a smile on but you could’ve sworn you saw her wipe a tear from her eye.

“You’re my best friend, Chaeyoung. We shouldn’t complicate that.” 

“You’re right, we shouldn’t do anything. Really, ___. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Like always.” She patted your hand that was gripping the gear shift with white knuckles. “Until next time.” Once again, she slipped out of the car before you could react and disappeared into the house by the time you got out to try and talk to her.

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Dear reader, Do not be fooled by the title of the chapter.

I must caution you about this next chapter. This is the chapter where we begin to explore creepy undertones pertaining to Olaf as a character. If you are not comfortable with reading about predatory behavior, comments ranging from vague to slightly explicit (on the topic of these predatory behaviors), a young girl being restrained, physical violence against a minor, threats to a minor, or vague to slightly specific comments about pedophilia, I would suggest skipping the first part of this chapter. Although the second part does show a character a low point and this character does endure a panic attack due to his constant distraught thoughts. Please read with caution. If anything becomes too triggering or makes you too uncomfortable I am happy to summarize in vague details (when going over certain parts) so you are still able to follow the story.

Author’s Note:

I, Susan, the author of Misery Loves Company also wants to make it abundantly clear that THE TOPICS/TRIGGERS IN THIS CHAPTER are things I frown upon entirely. I do NOT condone pedophilia at all, whatsoever. And I believe it is NOW in my fic that I will say this: if you ship the disgusting vile mess of a 'ship' that is Violaf...I would prefer if you stop interacting with my page, my story, and any of my works. Just because I put it in my story does not mean I condone it. I am using it as a element to explain why this sort of shit is WRONG.

If we are being abundantly honest, it is these segments that I have the hardest time writing and editing. It is a long, hard process and it never gets easier. No matter how vague the comment Olaf or even Esme make is, it is never easy. It makes my blood boil, my skin crawl and my stomach churn.

Again, if you can't get through the first segment of this chapter or any segments in future chapters. Please let me know and I will relay what happens without the triggering details.

I don't feel right saying 'enjoy' because this is a tough pill to swallow.

So read with caution. Let me know if you feel I went too far or if you just want to comment like normal. I am not perfect. I am open to criticism. I just needed to make sure all my readers understand where I stand on the topic of Count Olaf's creepy ass infatuation to Violet.

Read with caution. Love the support you guys have given this fic.

-Susan.

_______________________________________________________

Chapter Forty-Eight:

The One With Sunny Giving Klaus a Pep-talk

“Good job,” Olaf said as he held Violet in a headlock. Violet tried her best to fight against the grown man. But it was no use. Violet tried smacking his arm hoping he’d let her go but he tightened his grip on her as he looked around, frowning at Esme’s empty arms. “Wait...where are the other brats?” he growled disappointed.

Esme shrugged her shoulders. “I got you the Snicket bitch. Jesus, are you ever satisfied?” Esme huffed visibly annoyed that she caught Violet. Esme smiled wickedly as she removed her stiletto shoe from underneath Violet’s chin. “You owe me new shoes,” she said to Olaf, who merely rolled his eyes as he tried to get a firm grasp on Violet. He currently had one hand around her mouth to keep her screams from being heard. Luckily for Violet, he had been wearing a pair of black medical gloves, she tried to wrangle and maneuver his hand to where she could bite him, but it seemed like he knew what she was doing because he was viciously fighting against her.

“Be a good pet and hold still, dammit,” Olaf hissed into Violet’s ear as the young girl continued to struggle. He was grinning from ear to ear at the ‘little gift’ Esme had caught for him. He looked down at a struggling Violet who looked back at him with daggers. This made him chuckle a bit. Did she think she was scary? Did she think that looking up at him with those innocent blue eyes was going to make him show her any mercy? He smiled down at the struggling young girl. She’s been as much of a pain in the ass as her father. But...soon that will change. He tried to hide his excitement from Esme. How amazing it was that she got him his favorite little orphan.

Violet continued to struggle, trying desperately to get Olaf to let her go. She started to laugh once she got to a certain point of desperation. She wasn’t entirely sure where her will to laugh was coming from because a large part of her wanted to break down and cry but she refused to show this fucker and bitch any weakness. Was this the opposite of a panic attack? She pondered as she tried to stomp on Olaf’s toes.

Ignoring his excitement of having Violet as his captive, he was still annoyed that the blasted bookworm and biting brat have escaped his clutches again but...Olaf was planning to make Violet pay for that. Olaf sighed angrily as he briefly released his grip on Violet. Before Violet had any time to react, Olaf had gripped her shoulders and whipped her around to where the young girl now faced him. He gripped her hair tightly, turning her head towards him, forcing her to look him directly in his shiny eyes. He leaned in close to her, in hopes of scaring her. But the girl continued to laugh unfaltered after briefly yelping in pain. “ I’m only going to ask you once,” he hissed as he looks directly in her eyes. Violet tried to turn away but he held her gaze. “ Where are the Baudelaires?”

For a brief moment, Violet continued to laugh until Olaf pushed her head away from his face. He looked to Esme annoyed. “Esme, can you take care of her for me, dearest?” he asked as he gripped Violet’s hair tighter.

Esme smiled as she dropped her stiletto shoe, allowing it to bounce on the floor. She walked over to Violet, smirked and then slapped the young girl’s face as hard as she could. Violet’s head swung violently to the left.

“ You fucking bitch,” Violet hissed through gritted teeth, holding back tears. She bit her lip, not allowing herself to yelp or cry out.

Olaf pulled her face back towards his roughly. “Glad to see you’re done laughing,” Olaf said smiling. “ Now where are the blasted Baudelaires?” he hissed.

“They got out!” Violet yelled back, doing her best to not look fearful. “You’ll never get to them! You lose! You hear me? You fucking lost this sick game of yours! I told you I wouldn’t let you hurt them again! And I always keep my promises, you pathetic piece of dog shit!” She yelled.

He merely cocked his head to the side, smirking at her. His smirk sent shivers down her spine.

“Oh, on the contrary, Violet, dear,” Olaf hissed stroking the cheek Esme had slapped with his free hand. Violet tensed up under his touch. She looked to Esme, who was glaring towards Olaf with a face of pure annoyance. “I believe I’ve won!” he twirled his fingers in her head, lacing a lot of her hair around his fingers as he jerked her head roughly. Causing her to groan and wince in pain. He slowly relieved his grip from her hair, she took a small breath before he strengthened his hold once more, yanking her hair to bring her face even closer to his. Her breathing halted as she bit her lip trying to hide the fact that she was in pain. Her face cringed up from both the putrid smell that Olaf was radiating and the fact that she was uncomfortably too close to Olaf. He stared at her once more, in silence, before a smirk grew on his hideous face. “You see, I have Lemony’s little princess right where I want her.”

With the mention of her father’s name, Violet’s eyes widened instinctively. “Keep my father’s name out of your fucking mouth,” she hissed as Esme rolled a gurney into the antechamber of the Library of Records.

Esme placed her stiletto heel under Violet’s chin once more. “ If you know what’s good for you, you’d cooperate,” she hissed as she and Olaf placed a struggling Violet onto the gurney. Violet kicked and swang her arms haphazardly trying to get a good swing or two on her captors. But they were able to subdue her. Esme held her wrists down, viciously stabbing her stiletto-sharp nails into Violet’s wrists. Violet bit her lip, trying to hide her discomfort as Olaf tied her wrists to the sides of the gurney with two familiar objects.

“You fucking ass!” Violet hissed when she recognized her own hair ribbons being used against her. She swung her feet desperately trying to kick the back of Olaf’s head. How dare he steal her backpack, go through its contents, and now use her own ribbons against her. Her own hair ribbons. The audacity! She thought as she struggled against her wrist restraints.

“Your ribbons are actually very useful,” Olaf commented. “Wanna know what else from your backpack is going to be very useful soon?”

Violet’s eyes widened knowing exactly what Olaf was hinting at. He was threatening her brother. “You won’t touch them!” Violet hissed, struggling harsher.

“This brat has a lot of fight in her,” Esme commented as she began to push the gurney down the halls of the hospital. Violet looked up at her captors, glaring at them both.

“Way more than the Quagmire twins or either Baudelaire,” Olaf agreed, smirking towards Violet. “But we’ll just have to fix that, now won’t we?”

“They’re fucking triplets!” Violet hissed.

Both Esme and Olaf rolled their eyes as they turned a corner. Violet continued to pull at her wrist restraints, hoping to tear her ribbons. She looked up at Olaf and Esme who looked down at her with cruel, vicious smiles.

“My diagnosis is you’ve been captured,” Olaf joked.

“In my medical opinion,” Esme said with a scowl, “it all has to go.”

“You’re not real doctors!” Violet cried desperately. “You’ll never get away with this!”

Violet continued to struggle and argue as Esme slapped a piece of tape on her mouth making Olaf smile down at Violet once more. It was like Violet was a wrapped birthday gift. A toy...that he can play with...a toy that he can break. A toy that he will break.

As he looked down at her, he could see both Beatrice and Lemony within her. He wanted to break her like they broke him. He wanted her to suffer like he’s been suffering all these years while Lemony, Beatrice, and Bertrand were happily raising children and living their lives as if nothing had happened. And why wouldn’t they be able to move on so easily? They weren’t the ones who had been betrayed and abandoned. Olaf sighed angrily, causing Violet to glance up at him with curiosity. He gave her a cold, dark smirk.  These children will pay for the sins of their parents. All three of them. Starting with Little Miss Snicket. He thought as he stared at her. Killing Lemony wasn’t enough. He wanted those fortunes and he wanted all three of those brats to suffer. He will obliterate both the Snicket and Baudelaire lines once and for all.

He looked down again as he and Esme continued to push Violet’s gurney through the halls of the hospital.  She twisted her head left and right, her eyes becoming desperate with each passing second. Olaf couldn’t tell if she was trying to get the attention of a passerby or hospital staff or if she were looking for those two other bratty orphans.

If the bookworm was as smart as he thought he was. He would take that baby sister of his and get the fuck out. Leave little Violet behind. Olaf thought as he smiled in a Grinch-like smile as an idea formed in his head. They’re a nuisance...when united...but separated...they won’t stand a chance! He thought wickedly.

He doubted that Violet was going to get out of this one but he had an idea that might help him in the future if she does somehow escape.

Violet looked up at Olaf’s eyes but this time he could see that behind the cold demeanor...was a scared little girl...she tried her best to glare but he can see the fear behind her eyes.  This made him smile again. Maybe we can work out a deal… he thought as he begins to tie in both of his ideas.

As he and Esme pushed the gurney into a vacant room, Violet looked around frantically for someone to help her. But as she heard Esme close the door behind them, her heart sank in her chest.

“We’ll store her here for now,” Olaf explained.

“Whatever,” Esme said uninterested. She wanted to get back to looking for the two other orphans whom she believed had her sugar bowl in their possession.

Olaf walked over to where Violet was still struggling. Her legs were kicking wildly, she was wincing in pain as she pulled at her hair ribbons that were tied tightly around her wrists. She shook her head desperately. Olaf looked down at her once more. “I hope they were worth all of this…” he hissed in a tone that sent chills down even Esme’s spine.

Violet continued to struggle trying to say something but she couldn’t since Esme had taped her mouth shut. So she continued to merely glare at Olaf.

Olaf leaned down closely to Violet’s face to the point where she could once again smell his rancid breath. “You should’ve learned from your dear father…” he taunted. “When you fuck up my schemes...you feel my... fire.” He said using an exaggerated tone to emphasize the word ‘fire’, causing Violet to struggle even harder. She was desperately wanting to punch him, but she couldn’t. “But don’t worry...my sweet...precious...little...Violet,” he began as he stroked her cheek. She tried to move her face away from his hand but she was unsuccessful. “I know how to handle delinquent little orphans, just ask the bookworm.” He said laughing as he turned away and began to walk out of the room with Esme. “But for you, my sweet, your punishment will be vastly fucking different than the bookworm’s...that’s for sure,” He called to her as he closed the hospital room door and turned to the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender. “Do not let any unauthorized personnel into that room. Do you understand me?!” He barked at his henchperson, who nodded immediately going back to reading their book.

Olaf began to head back towards Babs’ office when Esme finally spoke up. “What did you mean by ‘but your punishment will be vastly fucking different than the bookworm’s?’ “ Esme asked glaring at Olaf.

“Don’t worry about it,” Olaf replied nonchalantly. “Let’s go find the other two brats before they find your precious sugar bowl,” he replied immediately changing the subject to one he knows she’ll never shut up about.

“Those mini coke snatching bitches better not touch my damn sugar bowl,” Esme hissed. “Or I’ll tear them limb from limb with my bare fucking hands!”

“Atta girl,” Olaf said snickering to himself. “One down...two to go.”

__________________________________________________

No matter how hard the two Baudelaire orphans tried, they could not fall asleep. Not only was it too cold and too scary, but they were also far too worried about their older sister to get even a blink of sleep. Klaus and Sunny huddled in a corner of the unfinished half of the hospital watching the sun slowly rise. Finally, Sunny was the first child to sit up, giving up on getting any sleep. Klaus continued to lay down, shivering in the breeze. He didn’t dare look at Sunny.

“Come on,” Sunny called out shaking her brother. “Gotta get Violet back!”

Klaus didn’t respond to his younger sister. He just tapped his fingers on the Snicket file nervously. He wasn’t looking towards Sunny either, he was looking up at the sky. Sunny could tell that his breathing was becoming odd and harsh.

“I’m tired, too,” Sunny admitted as she shook her brother harder. “But...save Vi.”

Once more, Klaus didn’t respond to her. His breathing shallowed, becoming harsher. “Do...do you think it’s true?” he asked her younger sister.

“Yes, save Vi!” Sunny cried desperately.

“No, I mean do you think...one of our parents survived the fire?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“I don’t know!” Sunny cried looking her brother in the eye. “Talk later,”

It is difficult to describe how Klaus and Sunny felt, hiding in the unfinished wing of the hospital, desperately waiting for Violet to make a miraculous escape. The phrase ‘having butterflies in one’s stomach’ would perfectly describe the troubling sensation the two younger orphans were feeling in their cores. Having butterflies in one’s stomach is not a pleasant feeling, but it is the best way to describe how the two Baudelaires felt when they left their sister with Count Olaf and Esme Squalor and perils unknown.

Sunny grabbed her brother’s shirt and shook it as hard as a toddler could shake a thirteen-year-old boy, but Klaus seemed mainly unphased by Sunny. “I can’t do this…” he whimpered, still not looking his younger sister in the eye.

“Huh?” Sunny asked confused as Klaus erupted into loud sobs.

“I can’t do this…” he cried trying to wrap his arms around himself as his body began to shake.

“Can’t what?” Sunny asked.

“I can’t do this …” he repeated, furiously shaking his head.

“No comprende.”

He smacked his fist on the edge of the wooden blank angrily. “I can’t do this! Don’t you get it Sunny! Violet is as good as gone! We’re as good as dead!” he cried frantically. “The only reason that we are alive today is because of Violet and Lemony!”

Sunny looked at her brother in disbelief. She opened her mouth to argue but when she thought about it, he was right.

“Get up,” she pleaded. She knew her brother was right but she knew it’d be wrong to leave Violet to save herself.

To Sunny’s surprise, Klaus jumped up, still shaking and sobbing. He began to pace back and forth. He looked towards the sun for a moment, contemplating his next move. “We have to go,” he said.

“What?” Sunny asked in disbelief.

“J-just because I can’t do it...doesn’t mean someone else can’t,” he reasoned. Chuckling to himself. He slid his hand in his hair. “W-we’ll just hotwire a car...you...you can drive…” he said pacing back and forth frantically. Sunny watched worriedly as Klaus wasn’t paying attention to where his feet were traveling. She cringed each time he got close to the edge of one of the beams that the children were hiding out on.

“No,” Sunny said shaking her head. “We stay,”

“No...no...this...this plan is a good plan.”

“No,”

“ Sunny! I can’t do this!” he cried desperately. “I’m not Violet...I’m not half as good as Violet!”

“No contest,”

“I’m...not saying it’s a contest, Sunny!” Klaus cried.

“Not leaving,” Sunny said putting her foot down.

“She’ll…” Klaus cringed as he spoke. His breathing harsh and shallow as he imagined what could be happening to Violet. “S-she’ll...she’ll...be fine.” he lied. Sunny wasn’t sure who he thought he was fooling with that bullshit statement. Her or himself. “He won’t kill her.” he reasoned. Deciding to change his initial statement to one that he was nearly confident in.

Sunny just stared at him in utter disbelief. She knew that he knew his suggestion was a terrible one and she knew deep down he knew what the two siblings had to do. Klaus continued to pace as he shook. “I...I can’t,” he cried. Klaus wrapped his arms around himself. Sunny couldn’t tell if he was hugging himself or trying to shield his chest. She sighed.

“We’ll go get the authorities,” Klaus reasoned.

“On the lam,” Sunny explained.

Klaus stomped his foot on the ground. “Look, we’ll find someone. He won’t kill her…” Klaus said as Sunny just shook her head at him, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

“ Sunny!” Klaus pleaded. “He...he wouldn't kill her,” He repeated confidently. “He needs her alive to get her fortune.” he reasoned his voice breaking.

Sunny simply glared at him. “ Klaus!”

“He won’t kill her!” Klaus reiterated. His voice breaking with his desperation. Deep down Klaus knew he was right that Olaf wouldn’t kill Violet, but he also knew what Olaf could...and would do to Violet if given the opportunity. He could do other severely terrible things to Violet. Things that made Klaus shake harder as he thought about them. Things he didn’t want to imagine. Things he couldn’t tell Sunny because she was still so young. He shuddered violently. “He...he...Esme wouldn’t let him...She...She…” he burst out crying, falling to his knees. Sunny rushed over to her mess of a brother, grabbing his glasses off his face, holding them for him as he rubbed the tears from his eyes. “ Sunny…” he cried meekly, barely even looking at Sunny. “I’m sorry...I can’t do this…I don’t wanna leave her...but there’s nothing I can do for her.”

“Klaus…”

“I can’t…” he reiterated. “I’m not the oldest. I’ve never been the oldest! If I was the true eldest Baudelaire, you and I would be dead! ” Sunny shuddered as her brother said it. Sunny wanted to argue Klaus’ point but Sunny could not find any evidence to disprove her brother’s theory that the two younger orphans are only alive because of Violet and her father, Lemony. So she sighed as she wrapped her arms around her brother.

Klaus sniffled and wiped his eyes once more. He looked down at Sunny, who looked up at him offering a toothy smile. Klaus put a hand on Sunny’s cheek. “I couldn’t even protect you, Sunshine,” he said as he began to cry harder. “He got you. I let him get you.”

“Not your fault,” Sunny explained.

“What makes you think I can save Violet? ” Klaus asked.

“You got this,” Sunny argued, not really giving Klaus a reason why she believed this which didn’t help her case.

“No...no...no I don’t!” he panicked. “She’s a goner! She’s...I...I...can’t do this!” He shuddered again. His mind imagining what Hell Violet could already be going through. He knew deep down that he couldn’t leave Violet...even if he wanted to, which he honestly didn’t. Even if it seemed like the smarter thing to do. Even if it was the safer thing to do. Even if he knew he couldn’t rescue her, he had to at least try.  Even if Violet sacrificed herself wanting for Klaus and Sunny to run and never turn back. The two Baudelaires could never leave her with Olaf. If it weren’t for Esme knocking a heavy filing cabinet in their way, they would have exited the mail chute and joined Violet back in the Library of Records. He continued to cry, sobbing into his hands as he disentangled himself from Sunny. Klaus backed himself against a wall and started crying into his knees. Sunny walked over to where her brother had retreated and placed a hand on his head.

“Ohana,” she said as Klaus slowly looked up at her. Sunny wrapped her arms around her brother once more. “Ohana means family…” she said slowly. “And family means…?”

Klaus looked up at his sister as she smiled at him knowing damn well that he knew how to finish the quote. “Nobody gets left behind…” both Baudelaire siblings said simultaneously. “Or forgotten.”

Klaus sighed as his body started to shake slower than it had been. “You’re right, Sunny.” Klaus agreed as Sunny wiped his tears from his face.

“You are the best big brother I could ask for,” she said slowly. She put her index finger up to Klaus, indicating for him to give her a second. She strained her face as she searched her mind for the right words. She gave her brother a small smile. “You have missteps. Violet has them, too.” the toddler explained to her thirteen-year-old brother. She lifted her index finger again indicating to her brother that she isn’t done speaking just yet and he is to wait his turn. “But I love you both and believe in you both,”

Klaus smiled at his younger sister as he watched her articulate her thoughts. “Sunny, you talk so well…” he said in awe.

“Thanks to you,” she replied. “You may not be tough or brave like Violet,” Sunny explained as Klaus frowned. “But you are just as smart and strong,”

He scoffed. “I’m not strong, Sunny.”

Sunny placed her tiny hand on Klaus’ chest, frowning at her brother. “You are strong,” she explained as she averted her eyes from his face to his chest, cringing a bit as she remembered what Olaf had told her.

He followed her gaze, he opened his mouth but no words came out. He looked down at where she had placed her hand. He gasped as a wave of realization crashed over him. “Do...do you know…?” he asked, his eyes widened with a mix of embarrassment, shock, and anger.

Sunny nodded her head slowly. “He told me…” she admitted. “And I am sorry,”

Klaus shook his head. “Sunny, it’s not your fault.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Either way,” she said. “You got cut trying to save me,” she said cringing. “I got taken saving you…” Sunny paused. Klaus chuckled softly when she placed her index finger in the air once more telling him that she isn’t finished talking just yet. “Violet got snatched saving us…” she took a deep breath. “Now we have to save our sister.”

Klaus took his glasses from Sunny’s hand, smiling at his toddler sister. “You know,” he said as he stood up. He felt a little shaky and uneven but he knew it was the massive pit of butterflies in his stomach. “I hate when you’re right,”

Sunny giggled. “Get used to it, bro,” she said in her snarky tone.

Klaus smiled down at his little sister. His heart hurting because she is so much bigger and more grown-up than she had been that day at the beach. He remembered when she relied on him for everything but as he looked at her now, he was proud of the young toddler that stood before him. Even through everything they had been through. Living with Olaf, Monty’s murder, a hurricane, him being hypnotized, she had been strong enough to work at a lumbermill and as a secretary at their private school. She had endured two weeks running laps and then endured being Olaf’s kidnap victim. He didn’t know exactly what happened to her throughout that time but he could only imagine the Hell that his sister and the Quagmires had endured. But as he stared at his baby sister, he could see that these events in her vastly short life have affected her in both good and bad ways. Klaus could tell that these events made her stronger. She was resilient like Violet and their mother. He and Sunny walked together to the singular wooden that led from the hospital to the unfinished half. He took a deep breath as he picked up Sunny, holding her close. “You know,” he said as Sunny wrapped an arm around Klaus’ neck. “Violet isn’t the only one who reminds me of Mom,” he told her as he watched the toddler smile as she hugged their sister’s locket that remained safely around her neck for safekeeping just like her big sister had asked.

“Thank you,” she replied. “You remind me of Dad.”

Klaus gripped Sunny tighter as he began to balance himself and her on the wooden beam. “Do you think whoever survived the fire is looking for us?” he asked trying to find a way to distract himself and keep himself from looking down.

Sunny slowly shrugged her shoulders hoping to not cause her brother to become unbalanced. “We’ll worry about that after we save Violet,”

“Right,” Klaus said.

As Klaus crossed the beam in silence, all of his negative thoughts were fighting to reside in the forefront of his mind. You’re a failure. You’re nothing like Violet or your mother. You can’t save your hero. His mind repeated. Flashes of the horrible things Olaf has done to him haunted his mind as well. There were even flashes of what he imagined could be happening to Violet right now. Or what is going to happen to Sunny once the two siblings are caught? You’re only putting Sunny in danger. The voices in his head warned him as he successfully made it to the finished half of the hospital. He glanced at Sunny, making sure she didn’t catch his quick glance. The butterflies in his stomach were flying rapidly, without hesitation as he thought about how he was literally walking into a hospital that had been taken over by his worst nightmare. Klaus thought of all the sharp, scary tools and instruments that doctors and nurses used on a daily. He began to shake once more as he pondered which ones Olaf would use on him. The doubts that Sunny had fought off were slowly inching their way back to Klaus’ mind. Sunny felt herself shake in her brother’s grasp as they officially reentered the hospital.

I believe it is my duty to inform you that Heimlich Hospital is gone now, and will probably never be rebuilt, although many can argue that it was never entirely built to begin with. If you want to visit it, you have to convince a farmer to let you borrow his mule, for nobody in the surrounding area is willing to go within twelve miles of its wreckage, and once you arrived you can hardly blame them. The few scraps of building that have survived are covered with a thick and prickly type of ivy called kudzu, which makes it difficult to see what the hospital looked like when the three children had first arrived in the VFD van. The confusing maps have been gnawed off the walls of the sagging staircases, so it is very hard to imagine how troublesome it was to find one’s way through all the areas of the building. And the intercom system has long since crumbled away, with only a handful of square speakers left sitting among the ashen rubble, so it is impossible to imagine just how nerving it was when Klaus and Sunny had the misfortune to hear the latest announcement from Dr. Mattathias Medical School.

What made matters worse and did not help Klaus’ anxiety or fear about the whole situation was the fact that the second that the Baudelaires had reentered the hospital, Olaf had started his announcement. Causing the middle orphan to begin a new full-out panic attack.

“Attention!” Mattathias announced. “Attention! Attention! This is Dr. Mattathias Medical-School, Head of Human Resources and Hospital Administration. I have nothing to do with party planning. I am canceling the remainder of the hospital inspections. We have found what we were looking for,” There was a pause as Mattathias moved away from the microphone, and as Klaus and Sunny listened in, they could hear the faint, faint noise of triumphant, high-pitched villainous laughter coming from the Head of Human Resources. His laughter caused Klaus to shake harder as Sunny demanded for Klaus to put her down.

“He...he sees us,” Klaus cried looking around frantically for cameras.

“Doubtful,” Sunny said.

“Excuse me,” Mattathias continued, when his giggling fit was over. “To continue please be aware that one of the murderous orphans, Klaus...I mean Klyde Baudelaire has been spotted in the hospital alongside his kidnap victim, Sun-I mean Susan. If you see any children whom you recognize from The Daily Punctilio, please capture them and give them to the most stylish nurse you can find. Thank you.” Olaf stopped talking and began to laugh once more until the children could hear the voice of Esme Squalor whispering, ‘darling, you forgot to turn off the intercom.” Then there was an eerie click, and everything was silent.

“He...he sees us,” Klaus repeated as Sunny gripped his hand and pulled him into the closest, empty room she could find.  Even though the kids were now inside the hospital and no longer outside in the cold, the middle orphan shivered nonetheless as he processed Olaf’s words. Once both siblings were inside and she knew it was entirely empty, Sunny closed the door behind the two siblings as Klaus began to cry again. “Sunny...now I know I can’t do this! They’re going to find us...someone is going to recognize us and hand us over to them…” He sat down on the floor, avoiding eye contact with his younger sister as he tried to calm himself down from his second panic attack that day.

“We can’t give up,” she told him stubbornly as she placed a hand on Violet’s locket. Her eyes lit up with an idea. She carefully took the locket from around her neck and placed it into Klaus’ hands.

Klaus looked up at Sunny as he shook where he sat. He looked down at the locket in his hands and felt like he wanted to sob uncontrollably once more thinking of Violet. “What do you expect me to do with this?” he asked her. “She gave it to you...she knew what she was doing, Sunny. She gave this to you cause she knew...she knew they’d get her,”

Sunny pressed her finger on the heart-shaped locket. “Mama,” she said pointing at the locket.

Klaus sighed. “You’re right, Sunny. Violet said she always looks at the picture of Mom that her father put in here whenever she’s too stressed,”

“And she said she keeps it near her heart,” Sunny reminded him. “So maybe you should wear it and then opened it up,”

Klaus chuckled at his little sister’s logic. “I don’t think it works specifically like that,”

“Hair ribbon,” Sunny pointed out.

“Yes, I know she has a lot of weird routines,” Klaus commented, his breathing regulating.

Klaus rolled his eyes as he opened the locket. His eyes widening in surprise as he glanced at two pictures that Violet had in her locket. Klaus had opened the locket to the expectation that his mother would be the only face staring back at him. But as he opened Violet’s heart-shaped locket not only was he met with a picture of his mother staring back at him but for a mere moment, it felt as though Klaus was looking into a mirror. Like his reflection had been caught inside the locket as well. He shifted the locket slightly to the right to see if the image in front of him would change like a reflection of a mirror would. But to his surprise, it didn’t. The image of himself and Sunny stayed the same.

“What?” Sunny asked, confused as to why her brother was staring at Violet’s locket in surprised silence.

Klaus motioned her to come around and see what he was seeing. Sunny walked to where she could see the contents of her older sister's locket and she gave a small smile. “That’s us!” she said happily pointing at the second picture that resided in Violet’s locket.

Klaus chuckled and rolled his eyes at his sister’s statement as if he couldn’t tell that the second picture was a picture of them. As he held the locket closely, he slowly took out the photograph of himself and Sunny, examining it closely. Two of the corners were badly burned and the photo’s remaining edges had been either cut or folded in a desperate attempt to make the photo fit into the locket. Klaus wondered where in the world Violet would have gotten a picture of them. Klaus turned to Sunny, letting her examine the photograph as he tried to remember what Violet had said about her locket.

“Sunny…”

“It’s us, Klaus,” Sunny said tracing the burned edges gently with her small finger. “She has a picture of us in her locket.” Sunny was smiling like crazy. “Do you know what this means?”

Klaus looked from the photo of their mother holding what he presumed to be baby Violet since the baby was wrapped snug in a purple blanket with the initials V.B. sewn on the corner. He sighed as he glanced over to the photo that Sunny was now holding and hugging. “No, Sunny...What does it mean?” he asked. His heart aching because he missed his big sister.

“It means she keeps us close...to her heart,” Sunny explained. “Cause it’s a picture of...us and it’s in a heart locket and when she wears it, it lands right on her,”

“Her heart,” Klaus finished in a saddened tone.

Sunny, out of curiosity, flipped over the photo because she knew sometimes with photographs the owners would write something on the back of it. Her face lit up with a smile as she found something written in Violet’s curvy cursive handwriting. Sunny tried to read what Violet had written but she was not very good at reading cursive. She tapped her brother’s shoulder. “Wazzit say?” she asked curiously, shoving the photo back into his hands.

“ My little brother, Klaus Baudelaire and my baby sister, Sunny Baudelaire. The only stars that shine within my grey and stormy sky. The best thing to happen to me after Mr. Lemon’s death. I love these two to the moon and back. I’d give my life for them. -V.S.” He read aloud to Sunny, choking on his tears as guilt washed over him. How could he ever suggest leaving her? As he finished reading the small paragraph Violet had written in the middle of the photograph. He was not only crying because of how her words or her mere action of putting the photo of him and Sunny in her locket had affected him. He was crying because he was scared, he was terrified. He had his doubts. He was crying because he felt guilty and he felt as though he was drowning in regret from how he’s treated Violet even if it wasn’t always intentional to how he had wanted to leave her even if his intentions had no malice. But the main reason he was crying is that he desperately missed his big sister. He just wanted her to hug him and make it feel all better like Sunny kept trying to do. And despite Sunny’s effort, which was helping Klaus more than Sunny would believe, he still felt like he needed Violet. He needed his rock, his hero. He didn’t know how to be her and he definitely didn’t know how to be like their mother and he had twelve years of being raised by their mother and yet, both Violet and Sunny who had spent a significantly less amount of time with her seemed to have more qualities that were Beatrice-esque than he did. Sure, when you looked at Klaus, you can tell he was a mix of both his parents. You could see the Beatrice in him. But you couldn’t hear it. You wouldn’t be able to see it with his actions which is what had Klaus worried. He had no idea how he and Sunny were going to save their older sister from Olaf. He desperately wished that Violet was with him right now, able to give him a clever idea that he would slightly doubt but still go with it because it’s Violet and anything she said always had a way of sounding plausible even if logic suggested otherwise.

He thought of how scared and alone she must feel. He tried to block out any and all thoughts of what Olaf could be doing to his sister right now. He hoped if he had done anything it was nothing as bad as what he, himself, endured back when he and Sunny were placed in Olaf’s custody, although he had his fears that something a lot worse could be happening. He paced around slowly trying to think of a plan but all the could think about was how Violet had accepted him and Sunny with open arms and although Sunny had reciprocated this...he was beginning to feel as though, he hadn’t. And when he came to that realization, he hated a part of himself.  He shook his head. “I’m a horrible person,” he muttered shamefully.

“No, you’re just scared.” Sunny explained, assuming that Klaus was merely talking about how he had suggested leaving and finding help even when he knew that that was a crazy idea that was highly flawed. “I’m scared, too. Violet’s probably just as scared as us.”

Klaus wiped his eyes. “I don’t mean my suggestion to leave her...although I feel bad about that, too. I mean…” Klaus sighed disappointedly at himself. “...how I must make her feel when I accidentally...exclude her. She’s over here putting our picture in her locket, sacrificing herself to Olaf, and...I can’t even remember to say ‘our sister’ when referring to you.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Sunny explained. “Do better.”

Klaus nodded his head. “I will do better. But first, we gotta save our big sister,”

Klaus slowly put Violet’s photo of her two younger siblings back into her locket and placed the locket safely around Sunny’s neck where Violet had wanted it. Sunny placed a hand over the locket and then looked back up to her brother. “Let’s save Violet!” she cheered happily.

[donnythewriter]

The MSR Houston Incident of 2015

    EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY

    A convoy travels down a narrow and winding road.

    INT. MRAP - DAY

    A group of soldiers and a reporter, MARK DIAZ, (24) look out     at the scenery around them.

    Diaz holds a DSLR camera and wears a GoPro.

    DONOVAN PAULSEN, (26) sits there with his M4 in front of him.     He thumbs a photo of his family.

    CARLOS HERNANDEZ, (22) drives the MRAP.

    Conrad stands on the mounted gun.

    Don looks up from the inside at Conrad.

                         DON               Hey Miller, you get your head blown               off yet?

                         CONRAD               Nope, you shoot yourself yet? I               know being married tends to push a               guy like you over the edge. Shit,               I'll do it for you should it come               to that.

                         DON               Nope. I least I won't die without               getting my dick sucked! How about I               come up there and cut your throat               open?

    Hernandez looks back at Diaz. Diaz jots notes down.

                         HERNANDEZ               You see what I gotta deal with man?               These white boys keep wanting to               whack each other. Wey, back in the               hood we'd have just done it.

                         CONRAD               Well, I'd do something, but unlike               you, Paulsen and I don't look all               that good in orange.

                         HERNANDEZ               Say that shit in the hood, homie.

                         DON               Is it because you can't actually               fight him yourself and need four of               your hombres to do it for you?

    Diaz smirks at this. Hernandez glances back and glares at     Diaz.

                         HERNANDEZ               Don't think I won't fuck you up,               homie.

                         DIAZ               You've already tried.

                         HERNANDEZ               You don't need no fancy martial               arts when you got four of your               homies backing you up you know.

                         DIAZ               They ONLY came in when I had you on               the ground.

                         HERNANDEZ               Still proves a point, carnal.

    Diaz looks down at his notepad again. He looks up and around     at the others.

                         DON               Oh christ, he's got that look               again.

                         CONRAD               Which one, the stupid question or               we did a Geneva Convention no no               look?

                         DON               The stupid question one.

    The three groan at this.

                         HERNANDEZ               Wey, why didn't you just come in               like the other reporters? Just drop               in by helicopter and camera crew               like all them white boys, ask the               questions and then leave?

                         DON               Kid's got a point, you're not like               the rest of them. We get the usual               run of the mill types, CNN, NBC,               whole nine yards. The hell? You               just wake up one day and think "I'm               going to sit with a bunch of               trained killers and record what I               see"?

                         DIAZ               I answer those questions and you               guys answer mine.

    DON     Yeah, fine.

                                     HERNANDEZ                                      Whatever, man.

    CONRAD     Deal.

                         DIAZ               Well when being a creative writer               fucks you and you're 200k in the               hole, you kind of run out of               options.

                         CONRAD               Real question is, why didn't you               just opt to enlist like every other               jerk off? Be cool like us.

                         DIAZ               Three heart attacks.

    Conrad looks down from the turret.

    Hernandez looks back from the driver's seat.

    His eyes wide and for a moment he carries a look of concern.

                         CONRAD               Are you fucking serious? Paulsen?

                         DON               Yeah?

                         CONRAD               Did you bother to tell anyone that               this guy could die on us at any               given moment?

                         DON               It's the first I'm hearing of it.

                         CONRAD               Well, if he does go down I'm               putting him out of his misery. One               less guy for you you to carry.

                         DIAZ               It'd be a welcome change. Anyway,               question time.

    A collective and annoyed groan from everyone in the vehicle.

    Diaz pulls out his notepad.

    DIAZ (CONT’D)     Gimme a sec here just...

                                     CONRAD                                      GUYS I GOT-

    The question reads, "What's waiting for you guys at home?"

    The MRAP at the front of the convoy goes off, a fiery     explosion with it.

    The radio next to Hernandez lights up.

                         IND SOLDIER 1                    (radio)               Vic two to all victors! Vics one               and four are down, I repeat vics               one and four are down!

                         DIAZ               No shit!

    Fear shows in Diaz's eyes as he throws his camera down.

    Conrad fires the machine gun, as the group scrambles to get     out of the vehicle. Rounds fly into the MRAP doors.

    DIAZ (CONT’D)     SHIT SHIT SHIT!

                                     HERNANDEZ                                      Man, where the fuck they                                      shooting from?!

    One flies past Diaz and Don.

                         DON               Conrad, keep those fuckers heads'               down, everyone else, OUT!

    The radio next to Hernandez lights up.

    Another explosion rings out.

                         IND SOLDIER 1 (O.S.)                    (radio)               Vic two to all victors! Vics one               and four are down, I repeat vics               one and four are down!

                         DIAZ               No shit!

    Fear shows in Diaz's eyes as he throws his camera down.

    Conrad fires the M2. The shell casings fall inside.

    As the group scrambles to get out of the vehicle. Rounds fly     into the MRAP doors.

    One flies past Diaz and Paulsen. The two look at each other.

                         PAULSEN               EVERYONE OUT!

    The Humvee behind them goes up in smoke as an RPG flies into     its side.

                         IND SOLDIER 1 (O.S.)                    (radio)               Be advised, we just lost vic six!

    EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY

    Don keeps his head down as rounds fly above his head. A     burning and turned over Humvee sits in front of a stopped     MRAP.

    Don looks around.

    Diaz scrambles in front of him behind the tire of the MRAP     they just exited. He takes his helmet and checks it, then     looks up at Don.

                         DIAZ               What the hell are we doing man?!

    Screams fill the air as rounds start to land on the MRAP. Don     raises one finger and peers out behind him.

                         IND SOLDIER 1 (O.S.)               MEDIC! OH GOD, DOC!

    An RPG hits the second vehicle at the front of the convoy.     It's a one lane road.

                         DON               There's no escape... We're fuckin'               boxed in.

    The Humvee behind him has dead soldiers in it. One door is     open. One soldier lays there, his head in the ground.

    Don takes a moment to look at all this.

    Conrad lays down fire with the .50. Hernandez looks back at     Don.

                         HERNANDEZ               STAFF SERGEANT, WHAT THE FUCK ARE               WE DOING WEY?!

                         DON                    (looks around more)               Hold position here! KEEP LAYING               DOWN FIRE!

    Don takes off his rifle and passes it to Diaz. He takes the     rifle magazines off his vest.

                         DIAZ               Give me a gun, I can fight!

                         DON               Good, remember what I taught you?

    Diaz nods and stands up, rifle in hand. His hands shake as he     tries to lay down fire with the rest of them.

    Don looks up.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Miller, you-

    A round hits Miller's helmet. He falls down from the turret.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Oh, fuck!

    Don opens the door to the MRAP. Rounds hit the glass as Don     drags him out. He takes Conrad's helmet off and takes out a     pack of cold compress.

    Conrad swats it away from his head.

    Conrad throws his helmet off to the side.

                         CONRAD               I'm fine, take care of the others!

    Conrad stands back and stumbles for a second. He reaches back     into the MRAP and takes a 240 SAW.

    Don nods. He checks behind him at the downed soldier. He     looks back at the front of the convoy.

                         DON               Son of a bitch.

    Don turns around.

                         DON (CONT’D)               FUCKING COVER ME, I GOTTA GET TO               THE BURNING HUMMER!

    CONRAD     GOT IT!

                                     HERNANDEZ                                      COPY!

    The two start firing at the same time.

    A volley of bullets returns fire.

                         CONRAD (CONT’D)               GO!

    Don runs across to the next MRAP and opens the passenger's     side door. He knocks on the side door.

                         DON               Friendly coming through!

    VALENTINE, (21) is on the radio.

                         VALENTINE (O.S.)                    (into radio)               Baseplate, I say again! We are               troops in contact at this time!

    Diaz watches the hillside as he watches more fighters try and     make their way down from the mountainside.

                         DIAZ               I see four, they're on the               mountain. I think that's 200 meters               away from us!

    Shots begin to ring next to him, the dirt around him starts     kick up from incoming fire.

                         HERNANDEZ               You can count homie? Great, next               thing you're gonna tell us is that               you write! How many did you get?!

    Miller and Hernandez start to light up the village below them     as the fire continues.

                         CONRAD               Four, fuckface!

    Diaz tries to range the target.

                         HERNANDEZ               Damn it, I got three!

    Diaz's gun goes dry.

                         DIAZ               This is fucked up man!

                         HERNANDEZ               Not as bad as your girl back home!

    Hernandez laughs as he reloads.

                         HERNANDEZ (CONT’D)               Come back from this and you're               definitely getting laid!

    Diaz shakes as he fumbles with the mag. He ejects the other     one and fumbles with the full magazine.

    Diaz readjusts his glasses.

    He finally places the magazine in as a round flies into his     chest. He falls back.

                         DIAZ               Oh fuck I'm shot!

    Miller runs over to him and looks him over.

                         MILLER               It's just your vest, get back in               the fight!

    Diaz struggles with his gun, then checks the paddle. He     chambers another round, then fires more.

    Miller looks back.

    Diaz's shots land around the insurgents, causing them to     reposition.

                         MILLER (CONT’D)               REPORTER! YOU'RE JERKING THE               TRIGGER. SLOW DOWN! TAKE A BREATH.

    Diaz does so, his eyes in line with the sights.

                         MILLER (CONT’D)               BREATHE!

    Diaz calms down and stops shaking.

                         MILLER (CONT’D)               SQUEEZE!

    He squeezes the trigger, his ACOG sight aligned with an     insurgent.

    Four shots ring out next to them.

    Diaz fires a shot, as pink mist leaves an insurgent.

                         MILLER (CONT’D)               KILL!

    Don comes back from this, an unconscious soldier over him.

                         DON               Friendlies, watch your fire!

    Miller looks over.

                         MILLER               Paulsen, WHAT HAPPENED?! Did you               just commit a fucking war crime?!

    Miller provides cover fire.

    The soldier has a bandage over his abdomen.

    Don sets the other soldier down behind the MRAP, then runs     back through the Humvee's smoke.

    He comes back almost another second later.

    DANIEL CHO, (21) comes out, a bandage wrapped around his arm.

                         CHO               I can't feel my legs, doc!

                         DON               Don't worry, your dick still works.

    Don cracks a weak smile, then holds a serious look in his     eyes.

                         DON (CONT’D)               I need you to call in the nine               lines, you're the only one who can               do it right now. I'm a little               caught up.

    Cho looks at Don with fear in his eyes. He trembles as he's     given the radio.

                         CHO               You trust me?

                         DON               Don't get your head blown off.

    Cho takes out a map and gets on the radio.

                         CHO                    (into radio)               Baseplate this is Alpha 3-3,               standby for nine line!

    Don takes a breath.

                         DON               Hernandez, good?

                         HERNANDEZ               Still kickin'!

                         DON               Miller!

    Miller shoots a thumbs up as he stares down the sights of his     rifle. Miller takes a few more shots.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Diaz!

    He turns around.

                         DIAZ               I'm good, yeah I'm-

    A round flies through the side of Diaz's neck.

    Diaz falls behind the MRAP tire, rifle in hand.

    The blood splatters on Don's kevlar and face.

                         DIAZ (CONT’D)               I'VE BEEN SHOT HELP!

    Diaz rolls around behind the MRAP.

                         DON               Hernandez, watch the mountainside!

    Hernandez switches positions. The fire continues near them.

    He picks up where Diaz left off. The fighters on the mountain     start taking cover and firing back at them.

    A round flies past Don. Don crawls over.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Reporter, hey! Look at me!

    Diaz looks up at him.

    Don moves his hand off Diaz's neck, cleaning off the area     around the wound.

    He wraps it.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Hold that.

    He places the bandage, wrapping it under his opposite arm.

    Don passes the rifle back to him.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Get back to it.

    Parks takes a breath.

    He repositions himself sitting against the MRAP tire and goes     firing at the insurgents on the mountaintop.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Hernandez, back where you were.

    An explosion rocks the Hummer behind them.

    SPECIALIST JACK MANSLEY, (22) crawls out from the smoke of     the explosion mere seconds later.

                         MANSLEY               Doc! My leg! Doc!

                         DON               COVER ME!

    Hernandez, Miller, and Diaz start firing from their     positions.

                         MANSLEY               DOOCCCC! DOCCCCC!

    Mansley stares at the sky.

    Don runs over to him.

                         DON               Fuck.

    Don ties off the tourniquet.

                         MANSLEY               How's it look doc?

                         DON               You're gonna fucking die.

                         MANSLEY               I'm never gonna taste that               stripper's pussy again.

    Don chuckles.

                         DON               Which one?

                         MANSLEY               Your sister's.

    Don glares as he bandages his stump.

                         DON               Don't make me take this off.

                         MANSLEY               When I see your sister, the only               thing coming off is that tank top               she's got.

    He drags Mansley behind his Hummer.

    Mansley's leg sits on top of the hill. Don stops, grabs it,     and throws it next to him.

    Parks is next to them. He's on a mounted Squad Automatic and     engages targets below them.

    Parks begins to switch rounds in his belt as the fire returns     back to his position. He scoots back and finishes his reload.

    Don shows up next to him and taps him on the shoulder.

                         DON               You hit?!

    Parks gives a thumbs up. A round hits his helmet and causes     him to roll over.

    Parks looks up at Don. Don takes Parks's helmet off. A bruise     sits along his head.

                         DON (CONT’D)               You're good, come on!

    Don puts the helmet back on Parks's head and helps him up. He     grabs Parks's machine gun and passes it over to him. Parks     nods and begins to fall back to where Conrad and Diaz are.

    Don runs toward the front of the convoy. Wounded soldiers run     by him. Some shout orders, some fall back toward the front     while others cover them. James stands there and fires rounds     of a mortar tube.

    He hears a thud.

                         O'DONNELL               The door's closed!

    Don reaches in and pulls O'Donnel out.

                         DON               Stay here and shoot back!

    He looks at the Humvee.

    The three are positioned around different sections of the     MRAP and shoot back at the assailants.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Cover me, I gotta move!

    O'DONNELL     GOT IT, I got you!

                                     BELL                                      On it!

                         DON               Moving!

    The two fire off a volley of shots as Don crosses to the     burning Hummer.

    There he hears screams from the inside. They grow louder as     he approaches.

    He looks at the Humvee.

    The engine's on fire alongside the driver's side.

    The driver RYAN, (24) panics and burns alive inside the     vehicle.

                         RYAN               HELP ME! HELLLLPPP! SOMEONE FUCKING               DO SOMETHING!

    Don makes his way over the door. The glass breaks and the     entire Humvee is engulfed in flames. Screams ring out.

    Don's eyes widen as he tries to go around the Hummer, only to     be met with another volley of gunfire.

                         DON               Oh, no...

    He looks around him. Soldiers sit frozen, while others are on     radios calling for support. Others shoot back, while others     tend to their wounds.

    Don takes a deep breath and takes out his M9.

                         DON (CONT’D)               I'm so sorry.

    He walks up to the burning Humvee. Don takes his Beretta and     fires into the sitting positions in them.

    INT. MRAP - DAY

    Three of the soldiers ROSS, (20), BELL, (19), O'DONNELL, (18)     inside freeze up in fear.

    A body lies in the middle of them. His nametape reads     "Vazquez".

                         DON               GET THE FUCK OUT!

    They hold their rifles as they stare at the burning Humvee in     front of them.

    Don taps one on the leg.

                         DON (CONT’D)               HEY! LET'S GO!

    The three wake up from their trance. Two get out from Don's     side. One gets out from the side the fire comes from and gets     lit up by the incoming fire.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Other way, moron!

    He opens the door as a round flies in and hits him in the     chest.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Jesus, fuck!

    Don ducks down and takes out his Beretta. Bullets whiz past     his head.

    EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY

    He hears a thud.

                         O'DONNELL               The door's closed!

    Don reaches in and pulls O'Donnel out.

                         DON               Stay here and shoot back!

    He looks at the Humvee.

    The three are positioned around different sections of the     MRAP and shoot back at the assailants.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Cover me, I gotta move!

    O'DONNELL     GOT IT, I got you!

                                     BELL                                      On it!

                         DON               Moving!

    The two fire off a volley of shots as Don crosses to the     burning Hummer.

    There he hears screams from the inside. They grow louder as     he approaches.

    He looks at the Humvee.

    The engine's on fire alongside the driver's side.

    The driver RYAN, (24) panics and burns alive inside the     vehicle.

                         RYAN               HELP ME! HELLLLPPP! SOMEONE FUCKING               DO SOMETHING!

    Don makes his way over the door. The glass breaks and the     entire Humvee is engulfed in flames. Screams ring out.

    Don's eyes widen as he tries to go around the Hummer, only to     be met with another volley of gunfire.

                         DON               Oh, no...

    He looks around him. Soldiers sit frozen, while others are on     radios calling for support. Others shoot back, while others     tend to their wounds.

    Don takes a deep breath and takes out his M9.

                         DON (CONT’D)               I'm so sorry.

    He walks up to the burning Humvee. Don takes his Beretta and     fires into the sitting positions in them.

    Each round fires wears on his face.

    One.

    Two.

    Three.

    He goes to take out the fourth person.

    His gun malfunctions and he clears it.

    He pulls the trigger once more.

    The world goes silent, then comes back.

    Bags form under his eyes. He carries a thousand yard stare.

    Don holsters his handgun and looks to his side.

    One of the wounded looks Don in the eyes with a look of fear.     Don just nods at him, then peers out. Smoke covers his     advance. He runs across and makes it to the Humvee over to     JOHNSON, (19).

                         JOHNSON               YOU JUST FUCKING SHOT 'EM MAN!               Like- Like dogs!

    Don stops the bleeding from Johnson's arm.

                         DON               Can you fight?

                         JOHNSON               You fucking murdered them!

    Don nods-

                         DON               I know.

    Johnson gives him a look of disgust.

                         JOHNSON               You're a fucking murderer, man!

                         DON               Not right now!

    Don runs over to the next vehicle and dodges another volley     of bullets.

    A group of soldiers sits around a map. COLONEL TYLER, (mid-     40s) is in the middle of the group. He looks down at a map.

                         TYLER               ...Negative baseplate, we are 40               percent combat ineffective at this               time, and cut off from the other               half of our convoy. We are               requesting a QRF at this time, how               copy?

    The radio goes off.

                         BASEPLATE (O.S.)               Copy 1-1, we're sending ANA to               assist.

                         DON               Oh that's bad.

    Don holds his handgun with both hands. He takes cover behind     vehicles. Gunfire rings out around them. Don moves to another     MRAP.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Friendly coming through!

    An insurgent rises above a hill and shows himself. He holds     an AK in his hand.

    Don raises his Beretta dumps a magazine into the insurgent.     The rounds land in the side of the AK.

    The insurgent points his rifle Don. It lets out a clack.

    Don drops the magazine to his Beretta. As Don reaches for an     extra magazine, the insurgent charges at Don.

                         PARKS (O.S.)               They're right on us!

    The insurgent tackles Don to the ground and pushes his gun     away. He begins to strangle Don.

    Don looks off to his side at Johnson. Johnson holds a rifle     out and trains it on the insurgent's head, but sits there     frozen in fear.

    Don reaches for his knife and slashes in the insurgent's leg.     The man's leg heals itself in an instant.

    Don's eyes widen in shock.

    Don starts to lose consciousness.

    James runs over with an e-tool and bashes the insurgent's     skull. The insurgent falls to the ground as James takes out a     9mm and fires two rounds into his head.

    Don rolls over and coughs. He tries to catch his breath.

    James looks over at Don.

                         JAMES               Stay down, doc! We'll find someone               else!

    Don stands back up and coughs again. He walks over to a     Humvee.

                         DON               I'm fine!

    James nods at Don and runs back to a mortar tube.

    Don stands back up and turns looks over at a group of     officers. Don struggles to catch his breath. Behind Don, the     soldier that loads mortar rounds takes a bullet in the head.

    A LIEUTENANT MARSTON, (24) stands behind Tyler. He carries a     look of concern in his eyes, his inexperience shows as he     struggles as he looks at a map.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Sir.

    Marston looks back at Don with a look of confusion.

                         DON (CONT’D)               I'm from vic five.

    A rocket goes off near them.

    The Lieutenant flinches.

    Don points to the burning wreckage of a Humvee.

                         DON (CONT’D)               We've got multiple wounded, our               infantry guys are gone and done               for.

                         MARSTON               What do you want me to do, Staff               Sergeant?

    Don's eyes widen.

                         DON               I'm saying our guys are pinned               down...

                         MARSTON               Where's your rifle, Sarn't?

    Don rolls his eyes.

                         DON               Fuck this.

    Don looks over his shoulder. Don turns around and makes his     way back to their MRAP.

    Soldiers fire back at the insurgents above and below. Don     looks at one that stands and takes shots with an M2 Browning     on another MRAP. The soldier next to Don lays prone with a     240.

                         TYLER (O.S.)               ANA's currently engaged, we're not               gonna see them for 20 minutes.

    Rounds fly past Don.

                         DON               FUCK!

    Don takes cover behind the MRAP, then looks at the soldier on     the M2.

                         DON (CONT’D)               HEY!

    The soldier on the turret looks at him.

    Another explosion rings out and lands against the MRAP. Don's     hands shake.

    He's not there anymore.

    Don's eyes widen and carry shock and confusion.

    The dust around him is kicked up. A volley of fire comes down     next to him, then stops. He takes the chance to cross to the     next Humvee.

    Parks sits on a 240 and continues to fire down below. He     begins to reload.

    Don opens up the door to the interior of the MRAP.

    MRAP

    The soldier, a SPECIALIST THOMAS, (21) lies there.

                         THOMAS               Am I gonna be okay, doc? Something               doesn't feel right, it feels a               little chilly.

    Don chuckles.

    His stare changes from that of hope to sorrow.

                         DON                    (muttering)               Oh christ.

    Thomas has a blanket draped over his body.

                         THOMAS               Doc? I don't feel right, I just               don't feel right.

    Half of Thomas's torso is missing.

                         DON               You're gonna die, that's what's               happening.

    Thomas looks down at himself with wide eyes. He lets out a     groan of pain as he looks at Don.

                         THOMAS               No, no, doc you're doc! You can               make this better!

    A tear rolls down Don's eye.

                         DON               Not this- I can't do anything for               this.

    Don grabs his hand.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Look at me Thomas, look at me.

    Thomas looks into his eyes. His breaths become more labored.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Who cares about you, Thomas?

                         THOMAS               M-My dog. She passed recently.

                         DON               Close your eyes. She's there               waiting for you. It'll hurt a               little bit, then you'll feel warm               and all this pain goes away.

    Don holds Thomas's hand tight.

    Thomas closes his eyes.

                         THOMAS               Thank you, doc.

    Thomas's hand goes limp.

    Don throws the blanket over his now dead body.

    Don's hands continue to shake.

    Parks continues to suppress with the 240.

                         DON               P-Parks!

    Parks looks over at Don.

                         PARKS               What do you need?!

                         DON               H-help me get the wounded.

    Don steps away, covered in Thomas's blood.

    EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY

    Parks takes a look at Don.

                         PARKS               I'm sorr-

                         DON               Shut up! I'm gonna kill every last               one of these fucks!

    Parks nods at him.

                         PARKS               Once I start firing, move!

    Don nods and takes out his 9mm. He chamber checks it.

    Parks lays down fire.

    Don moves across, 9mm in hand.

    Don takes out his handgun and fires at the insurgents below.     Rounds ping off the metal of the Humvee around him.

                         DON               Parks, go!

    Parks moves to Don's position. Don reloads his handgun and     throws the magazine off to the side. He loads a fresh     magazine.

                         DON (CONT’D)                    (pointing to the 240)               You good?

                         PARKS               Yeah!

    Don moves to the other side of the turned over Humvee. He     peers inside. It sits with all four soldiers unconscious     inside.

    Don grabs them all out, one by one.

    He sets them out. Four soldiers run past Don. Don turns     around and stops them.

                         DON               Get these guys to the front of the               convoy!

                         IND SOLDIER 1               You crazy?!

    Don just gives a glare. The soldier examines Don and nods at     him. The group begins to pull the unconscious soldiers out of     the turned over Humvee.

    Parks continues to fire back.

    They pick up the unconscious soldiers and continue to make     their way to the front of the convoy.

                         DON               Parks! You got smokes?

                         PARKS               Thomas did!

                         DON                    (mutters)               Fuck.

    Don goes back into the MRAP

    MRAP

    Don looks away as he gropes around Thomas's vest.

                         DON               I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry...

    He reaches for a pouch and takes a smoke grenade from it.

    Don comes back to

    EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY

    blood covered smoke grenade in hand. Don looks at the other     soldiers that carry wounded.

                         DON               Parks, stay with me!

    Don pops the smoke, clear exhaustion in his eyes.

                         PARKS               10-4!

    Parks continues to lay down fire.

    He throws it out, bullets ping off the MRAP's metal.

                         DON                    (waving them on)               Go... Parks, with me!

    The smoke screen rises between the armored vehicles.

    Don cuts across the vehicles back to Diaz, Hernandez, and     Conrad.

    Parks follows behind him.

                         DON (CONT’D)               We're getting out of here!

                         CONRAD               What about you?!

                         DON               I gotta get the rest of the               wounded!

                         CONRAD               Well we're not leaving you alone,               you fucking faggot! I want to be               able to pop your sister's cherry at               the funeral.

    Don has to hold back a smile.

                         DON               Fuck it!                    (chuckles)               Hernandez, get reporter outta here!               We got QRF on the way!

    Diaz looks back from his rifle.

                         DIAZ               Fuck you, I'm not leaving! This               shit's story of the century,               Paulsen!

    Don gives a small grin, then looks at Parks.

                         DON               You up for this?

                         PARKS               Fuck yeah, I am.

    Diaz has an eccstatic look in his eye.

                         HERNANDEZ               I'm with you, homes!

                         DON               Fuck it, let's do it. Move with me,               I'm gonna clear the vehicles and               check for wounded. I get fucked up,               you pull me away. You move when I               do.

    Sharpnel flies into Don's helmet, which causes him to fall     back.

                         CONRAD               Doc!

    Conrad pulls him aside.

    Don takes his helmet off.

                         DON               FUCK!

    Conrad reaches out for Don.

                         DON (CONT’D)               I'm fine!                    (throwing his helmet to                     the side)               Bastards! Let's go!

    Don moves to the next the vehicle, a turned over Humvee.     Behind him, Parks, Diaz, and Conrad open fire

    Soldiers lie there in wounds. One soldier writhes around in     pain and tries to hold his chest. Don takes out his IFAK and     pulls out a chest seal kit.

    Don puts it on the soldier. The soldier's breathing     normalizes. Don looks down at the name tape.

                         DON (CONT’D)               I'm gonna need to keep you here               till the QRF gets here...

    The gunfire continues to ping off the metal of the Humvee.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Let's fucking go.

    Don looks at the other soldiers. One lies face down. He turns     him over.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Ah, fuck.

    A bullet sits in his head.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Fuck.

    Don looks at another soldier. He has a round in his leg but     lays there, unconscious. His leg continues to bleed.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Fuck...

    Don takes out another tourniquet and ties the soldier's leg     off, then picks him up.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Hernandez, you got smokes?!

                         HERNANDEZ               Yeah!

                         DON               Pop one here, I'm gonna move this               guy, get the other two!

                         HERNANDEZ               Got it!

    The smoke comes out as Hernandez picks up the other injured     soldier.

    Don and Hernandez run through the smoke screens and make     their way to the front of the convoy.

    Another A-10 strafes the mountains, its machine gun lights up     the brush around it.

    An attack helicopter lights up the insurgents at the bottom     of the hill.

    Rounds pass over Don's head.

                         DON                    (mumbling)               I don't care if I don't make it               home, but fuck am I getting all of               you assholes out of here...

    A Stryker appears in the distance as Don clears both smoke     screens.

    Canadian troops and US Marines pour out of the armored     vehicle. A Marine Corpsman, LANCE CORPORAL SHELBY, (20)     comes out with a stretcher.

                         SHELBY               What's the situation, Sergeant?!

    A round pings off the top of the MRAP that Don and Shelby     take cover behind.

                         DON               We got at least four critically               wounded, and at least 14 seriously               fucked!

    Another round pings off the top of the MRAP.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Get as many of the critical guys               loaded up, how much armor do we               got?!

                         SHELBY               We got this and two other Strykers               on standby!

                         DON               Good!

    Don nods at this.

    Another A-10 strafes behind him.

    Other soldiers run through the gunfire and carry other     wounded troops. They use the vehicles for cover.

    Don looks at Shelby.

                         DON (CONT’D)               You got this?

    Shelby nods.

    Soldiers carry their comrades past.

    The soldier with the sucking chest wound  makes his way past     him.

                         SHELBY (O.S.)               Critical first!

    Don moves through them.

    Other soldiers cover their push. Don moves past them, Beretta     in hand. Many of the wounded still fight and hold rifles in     their hand.

    Canadian soldiers pull many of these wounded away, the non     injured soldiers providing cover fire for them.

    Don makes his way back to Diaz, Conrad, and Hernandez.

                         DON               We're gonna move again, come on!

    The three follow behind Don and give him covering fire as he     moves to the second to last vehicles.

    Two dead soldiers lie on the ground with rounds in their     heads.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Fuck...

    JAMES O'REILLY, (24) loads another mortar round into the     tube.

                         JAMES               Doc, you think you can help me?

    Don puts up one finger. James nods at this.

                         DON               Lemme check the last vic!

    Two soldiers step out. One has a round in his leg, the other     is blind.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Cover me!

    The group take positions and start to lay down fire for Don.

    Don makes a run forward-

                         CONRAD (O.S.)               RPG!

    Only for an explosion to go off, knocking Don back. James     flies back and hits his head against the hood of the Humvee.

    Blood spatter goes on the front of the Humvee.

    Don lays there as gore falls all over his uniform. The blood     stains his uniform and his face. Don makes his way up, then     examines himself.

    Don screams as he looks at himself. Conrad runs over with a     canteen.

                         CONRAD (CONT’D)               Come on, clean yourself off.

    He pours a canteen over his face. Don spits out a piece of     human flesh. His hands shake as he vomits to his side.

                         CONRAD (CONT’D)               Doc?

                         DON               I'm-I'm okay, I'm okay... I gotta               take care of him!

    Don points to James. His body shakes. James crawls behind the     Humvee and looks at himself.

                         JAMES               Doc, everything looks fucked up               man! You got a fucking tail,               Paulsen!

    James looks at himself and shakes in fear.

    Don runs over to him and wraps a bandage around his bleeding     head.

                         DON               Keep that there!

                         CONRAD               Doc, we'll take care of this.               Hernandez, with me.

    Don looks at the blood all over him.

    He lets out one more scream.

                                                FADE TO BLACK.

    INT. STRYKER - DAY

    Don sits in the Stryker, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

                         DON                    (lighting a cigarette)               We-We got everyone, right?

    A gunner looks down at Don.

                         IND GUNNER               Hey buddy, you know you can't smoke               in here, right?

    Don glances at him, the things he's seen reflective in his     look.

    The gunner looks away.

                         IND GUNNER (CONT’D)               I didn't see shit, never mind.

    The doors open to

    EXT. MILITARY BASE - DAY

    The sun shines into the vehicle as the ramp lowers.

    Don looks around. The uninjured soldiers all show looks of     shock and confusion in their eyes.

    Don watches the scene around him as the wounded are taken     away and the dead are covered with black blankets.

    He's still covered in the gore of his comrades.

    Conrad comes out of one of the three Strykers. He walks over     to Don. Diaz stands there and looks through the photos on his     camera.

    A medic walks up to Diaz.

                         IND MEDIC 1               Mr. Diaz, come with us.

    They bring out a stretcher. Diaz shakes his head. Diaz has a     bandage around his neck. He looks at Don, nods at him, and     grins. He gives Don a thumbs up.

                         DIAZ               I'll walk, give it to someone who               needs it.

    Diaz stands up and holds his bandaged neck.

                         IND MEDIC 1               Alright, I'll walk you there then.

                         DON (O.S.)                    (thinking)               You didn't do enough.

    He looks at the 18 bodies in front of him.

  �� Another batch of medics comes in to take the medic.

    Medics take away a man in a stretcher. His leg is missing.

                         DON (O.S.) (CONT’D)                    (thinking)               This is your fault.

    He looks down at ROGERS, (21). Rogers shoots him a smile and     a nod.

                         DON (CONT’D)                    (thinking)               I'm this way because you weren't               fast enough.

    Don continues to walk through the scores of wounded.

                         CONRAD               So far, we've got 18 dead and               another 48 wounded.

    Don looks down.

                         DON               Who's in charge?

                         CONRAD               I was in with a bunch of privates               and specialists. Lemme go check the               other.

    James is taken away by stretcher. His arms are held down by     restraints as two doctors wheel him off.

                         DON               Hey! What the fuck?!

    Don walks over to James. James reaches for Don's ass.

                         JAMES               You got a tail, doc! You got a               fucking tail!

    The two medics take him away.

    Parks comes out and smokes a cigarette.

                         PARKS               There's only about 12 of us left in               total.

    Conrad comes back.

                         CONRAD               Doc, you're the most senior out of               all of us.

                         DON               Oh, fuck...

    Don looks both ways. The blood still sits on his face.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Yeah, yeah- Get 'em together.

    Don's cigarette goes out. He pulls out another Lucky Strike     and lights it.

    The other soldiers look on in terror at Don. Don motions the     other soldiers to follow him.

    Hernandez follows Conrad. The depression is visible in his     eyes.

    They gather away from the Strykers to a spot by a road.

    Some stand at parade rest, some just stand and watch him.

    Don looks them over. They all carry thousand yard stares.     Their clothing is stained in blood and dirt. Some of them     have burns on their clothing.

    The fear in their eyes is palpable as they look at Don.     There's blood and body parts all over his vest, bones are     lodged into the cloth of his plate carrier. His face is     covered in ash.

    Don takes off his gloves.

                         DON (CONT’D)                    (takes the cigarette out                     of his mouth)               At ease. Turn your weapons in to               the armory, get yourselves cleaned               up, and come back here to await               further orders. It's been a bad               day. Get back here in two hours,               hooah?

                         GROUP                    (in near unison)               Hooah, sarn't.

                         DON               Get the fuck outta here.

    The group heads off.

    A rifle still slung around his shoulder, Don walks alone.

    He passes by NICK FLETCHER, (34). He wears UK DPM camo and a     pair of jeans.

                         NICK               Mate?

    Don looks at him. He says nothing and continues to walk     forward. He checks behind him. No one seems to pay any mind     to him.

    Don walks into a stall and closes the door behind him.

    INT. SHOWER STALL - DAY

    The screams ring out in his mind. Don vomits into the drain.

    His hands shake as he takes his handgun out. Don sobs in pain     as he looks at his handgun.

    The screams only grow stronger in his mind.

    He gives a tired grin. Don puts his blood soaked Beretta to     his skull. He brings the hammer down and puts his finger on     the trigger.

    He stands up and turns away from the door. The blood washes     away as Don steps into the shower. He lets the water run down     him for a moment, his finger still there.

    The door comes down behind him as Nick and Parks tackle him     down. Tears roll down Don's eyes as the water begins to clean     the blood and dirt off around him.

    DON     LET ME FUCKING DIE GOD DAMN     IT, I DESERVE IT! IT'S MY     FAULT THEY'RE ALL FUCKED UP!     I HURT THEM!

                                     NICK                                      Be reasonable here, mate!

                         DON (CONT’D)               Fuck you, Nick you weren't there!               You don't know what I did.

    Nick just gives Don a look of genuine empathy.

                         NICK               I was.

    Parks takes throws the handgun and rifle out, then zip ties     Don's hands.

                         DON                    (sobs)               Just let me die, it's my fault that               they're fucked up, I'm the reason               they're all fucked up...

                                                        GO TO:

    INT. POLICE ACADEMY - DAY

    Don runs alongside a formation of other younger, police     academy recruits.

                         DON (O.S.)               I got out of the court martial.               Everyone thought I was justified               given the circumstances of the               situation. Got a Distinguished               Service Cross for what I did- Or               didn't do.

    Don stands at attention.

                         DON (O.S.) (CONT’D)               I was an alcoholic when I got out.

    An academy INSTRUCTOR looks down at a clipboard.

                         DON (O.S.) (CONT’D)               Wife helped me get through that I               guess.

                         INSTRUCTOR               TRAINEE PAULSEN! FRONT AND CENTER!

                         DON (O.S.)               Didn't really prepare me for the               other shit, though.

                         DON (CONT’D)               SIR YES SIR!

    Don runs to the front of the formation and stands there, his     face looks forward. He's the sharpest in the group.

                         INSTRUCTOR               REPORT TO CAPTAIN MCDOWELL, NOW!

                         DON               Sir yes sir!

    CAPTAIN MCDOWELL, (mid-50s) and LIEUTENANT MORETTI, (mid-40s)     are in the room with him.

                         MCDOWELL               Have a seat, son.

                         DON               Yes, sir.

                         MORETTI               Ass kissing already? You're great               for job, chump.

    Don looks up at Moretti.

                         MORETTI (CONT’D)               The fuck you lookin' at?

                         DON               The guy that's about to get my fist               across his fucking face.

                         MORETTI               You want to go tough guy?

                         MCDOWELL               Gentlemen!

    The two stop.

    Don takes a deep breath.

                         MCDOWELL (CONT’D)               I'll get to brass tacks here,               Paulsen. We got a gang war brewing               in Hartford.

    DETECTIVE RUSSO, (32) comes into the room.

                         MCDOWELL (CONT’D)               We need a man of your expertise.               Russo here is an ex-Green Beret.

    Don looks at Russo. He's rugged and has a beard with his     tanned skin.

                         DON               Yeah, I can kinda tell.

                         RUSSO               Your name English?

                         DON               Yeah, why?

    EXT. ALLEYWAY - DAY

    Don walks up to an Irish mobster.

    The mobster stands there in front of a door and smokes a     cigarette.

                         RUSSO (O.S.)               You'll need to do a bit of extra               work with them, they like               theatrics. It's what impresses 'em.

    Don walks up to him, says something, then punches him across     the jaw.

    He pulls out a grenade and walks inside to

    INT. MANAGEMENT OFFICE - DAY

                         DON (O.S.)               I worked with the SAS, I know a               thing or two about that.

    Don kicks the door in. SARAH, MICKEY, and JONATHAN (mid-20s)     point guns at Don.

                         DON (O.S.) (CONT’D)               Why me though?

    The other mobsters pull guns on Don.

                         MCDOWELL (O.S.)               We've been watching trainees and               you seem to have a flair for the               unconventional.

    Don grips the grenade.

                         DON               Go ahead. I drop this spoon and we               all meet God in three seconds.

    The boss watches Don.

    He puts a cigarette out into the ashtray in front of him.

    Don takes a seat in front of JOHN BRADLEY, (mid-40s).

    He puts his grenade hand on the table in front of him.

    Don shoots him a grin.

                         DON (CONT’D)               How's your day going?

                         JOHN               You walked in here to ask how my               day's going? How many of my guys               did you take out?

                         DON               Three, pretty bad too. They're not               dead, but they're gonna have some               nasty hangovers.

    John nods.

                         JOHN               Well you don't look like any cop               I've ever seen.

    Don shakes his head.

                         DON               My wife is one, but she's on the               payroll. Yours, precisely.

                         JOHN               And you want us to take her off it.

                         DON               No, I want you to put me on it.

    John looks around at his goons. He chuckles, puffs on his     cigarette, and looks around.

                         JOHN               You got balls, I'll give you that.               I'll consider it.

    Don looks at the open door behind him for a moment.

                         DON               Well, while you ponder that.

    Don takes out a business card with his free hand, then slides     it across the table.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Have a good day, gentlemen.

                         JOHN               Did I tell you this conversation               was over?

                         DON               I'm the one holding the grenade.

                         JOHN               Very well. I never caught your               name.

                         DON               Paulsen.

                         JOHN               Not bad for an Englishman then.

    Don stands up and still holds the grenade as he looks the     other henchmen in the eye.

    The grenade lands inside the room. The door closes behind     Don.

                         JOHN (CONT’D)               JESUS CHRIST!

    The group scrambles to get out. The grenade lets smoke out.

    EXT. STREET - DAY

                         DON (O.S.)               I think I got that covered.

    Don jumps into his Mustang, starts it, and drives off.

    Smoke comes out of a second story window behind him.

    EXT. HOUSE - DAY

    Jackie leads a man, TRAVIS RODGERS, (28) into the house. She     grabs his crotch and kisses him on the lips.

                         MCDOWELL (O.S.)               You'll be answering to your wife.               And she answers to me and Moretti               directly. No one else knows about               this.

    Ash sees this and walks in the other direction. She looks     down in sadness.

    EXT. STREET - NIGHT

    Two cars pull up beside each other.

    Their occupants shoot it out.

                         DON (O.S.)               What do you need me to do exactly?

                         MCDOWELL (O.S.)               Take out the Italians.

    Both sides take casualties.

                         DON (O.S.)               How?

    Don steps out of one of the vehicles.

    Sarah gets out of the door behind him, 1911 in hand.

                         MCDOWELL (O.S.)               We got a man embedded with the               Italians. We need you to work with               the Irish. See if you can create               losses on both sides. Then               uniformed officers should take care               of the rest.

    Don holds an AR. Sarah walks over to the other car.

                         DON (O.S.)               You fucking serious?

                         MORETTI (O.S.)               You got shit in your ears,               smartass?

                         DON (O.S.)               Don't you think me and others are               gonna get caught in the crossfire?

    Russo lays on the ground and holds his neck. He reaches out     to Don.

    His face changes to that of one of Don's four squadmates from     the convoy.

    Sarah walks over and puts a bullet in his head.

    She looks at Don and shrugs.

                         DON (O.S.) (CONT’D)               Sure, I'll do it.

                                                        GO TO:

    INT. HOUSE - DAY

    Don types an email to a Mark.Diaz@gmail.com.

    The subject line reads, "Help me."

    INT. ITALIAN DELI - NIGHT

    A car sits crashed into a deli. Other mobsters follow Don     inside.

    A mobster steps out of his car. He reaches into the backseat     of it and pulls a little girl from it. He wraps the girl's     arm around his neck and carries her.

    Don catches up to him and raises his rifle.

    The two exchange looks.

    Muzzle flash.

    Don's eyes look at this in despair.

    Behind him, the others give him glad looks.

    Sarah walks up next to him.

    She looks at what he did and looks down in sorrow next to     him.

    INT. HOUSE - NIGHT

    Don bursts into the house.

                         DON               JACKIE!

    Jackie comes out of her bedroom. Ash watches behind her.

                         JACKIE               Do you know what time it is? Stop               yelling!

                         DON               We need to talk. I want out. I want               out so fucking bad.

    A note on the table reads, "Notice of termination"     10/23/2020.

                         JACKIE               You know it doesn't work that way,               right?

                         DON               I know about Ben and the other guy               too, Jackie. After everything I've               done for you and your fucking               career! This is what you do for me?

                         JACKIE               It's not like that! You're never               here!

                         DON               Oh, and whose fucking fault is               that?!

                         JACKIE               You're the one who took the job,               Don! You knew what you were gonna               have to do!

                         DON               I was gonna have to kill a mobster               and his kid?! Is that what it is?!

                         JACKIE               You should stop being a fucking               pussy, Don! For someone who spent a               third of their life in the sandbox-

                         DON               Shut your fucking mouth, Jackie!

    Ash watches this from her bedroom.

                         JACKIE               I WANT YOU OUT OF MY LIFE, DONOVAN!

                         DON               Have it your way, you bitch!

    Don looks at Ash. His face changes to that of genuine     concern.

    Jackie lets out a scream of anger. She slams her door.

                         DON (O.S.) (CONT’D)               For two weeks I applied for jobs               before I ended up at Sentinel               Securities. Wasn't a good time for               me or Ash. I just hope that               everything I did was worth it.

___________________________________________________________

(So I’m completely new to this community and have no clue what I’m doing. Lemme know what you think. It’s all disjointed and it’s the first time I’ve posted here.)

[thebarrydiariesx]

The Sleepover: Part 1 of 2.

PART SEVEN

“So what... we just sit tight and play a very dangerous game of hide and seek until morning?” Lisa remarked, folding her arms and looking around her locked, dark apartment. She threw her jacket on to the bed and gave herself a once over in her mirror. She smiled and followed a very stressed looking Barry.

“Pretty much,” Barry sighed as he peaked through her blinds. “It’d make more sense to just leave but-”

“Yeah not happening.” Lisa walked past him to the kitchen, putting a deliberate swing in her hips. She made a performance of bending down low as she opened her fridge, turning around with two Buds. “Drinks?” She shot him a smirk.

“Hilarious. Do you have like a cover or something for your couch, in case it gets cold?”

Lisa sauntered over to him, the beers sweating in her hands, and tilted her chin to line up her face to his. Barry tightened his lips and tried with all of his might to keep his eyes locked onto her face. She tilted her head.

“Listen, buddy.” She inched closer to him. “Need I remind you that we’re only in this predicament because you saw fit to appear at my place at the wrong time?” She prodded his chest. “You saved me and I’m thankful but you got trigger happy and you killed your guy- who by the way shouldn’t even be your guy- and now suddenly I’m a prisoner in my own home? Get outta here.” She shook her head and laughed. “If we’re gonna lay low, we’re gonna do this my way.” She offered the beer to him.

Barry clenched his jaw and looked above and past Lisa. “Fine.” He snatched the beer and took a hearty swig before looking down and pointing to her. “But just one.” He walked past Lisa to check the windows again, not noticing the satisfied smile on her face as she put the needle on her record player and dropped down onto the couch.

“Do you like Motown, Barry?”

*****

After two awkward hours, and with the help of several more beers and one thick joint, Lisa finally managed to get Barry to settle a little but it wasn’t without his limits. Barry sat cross-legged underneath her window, a beer in hand, still listening for any cars approaching, flinching upright every time he heard one. Lisa lounged lazily on the couch whilst they discussed music, books and video games. It took some strong coaxing from her, but she eventually got him up on the couch.

“Oh, this one I’m fuckin great at!” She beamed, pulling out a copy of Forza Horizon from her book shelf.

“Oh we’ll fuckin see about that, lady.” Barry retorted, a little more comfortable and decidedly more out of his shell than he had been in a while.

“Loser orders the pizza?” She hopped back on to the couch, handing him a controller.

“Deal.” Barry said smoothly, clinking his beer bottle with hers.

*****

“Oh you fuckin' slammin' bitch!" Lisa roared, elbowing Barry in an attempt to throw him off the game and better her chances at winning.

“Hey, cut that shit you fuckin’ cheatin asshole!” He struggled through his laughter, lapping up the beer that was now foaming out of the bottle.

“Oh, oh, an asshole huh Barry? Well you’re a...” Lisa grinned, trying her best to outdo him and herself on the elaborate insults. Video games always brought out Lisa’s less immaculate vernacular. “A robot fuckin’... cock lesbian!”

“Right back at ya, you fuckin...” Barry paused. “Soft piece of ass.” Lisa shot him a very perturbed look whilst he stayed silent. Lisa piped up.

“So pizza.”

“Yeah, pizza.”

*****

They relaxed more after they both had food in their stomach and a few more beers. The record player was still filling the room a few hours later.

“One of these early MORNIIIIIIINS” They both sang loudly as they sprawled over the couch, Barry’s arm relaxing around Lisa’s shoulder. She was puffing on the cig and her legs dangled freely on the coffee table. “Are gonna BE! Wiping those weeeping eeeeeyes yeaaaahhhh yeah yeah...”

“Wow, that was like every key except the key of Mustang Sally, Lisa.” Barry looked down at her smugly.

“Fuck you, Barbra Streisand.” She gave a throaty laugh, running her hand down his face in an attempt to shush him. “Speaking of Sally, how did you meet such a prim, perfect specimen in your line of work anyway?”

“Sally, she uh...” Barry immediately tensed up a little. “I met her at these acting classes I take. But it’s nothing serious, she just... what?”

“Fuck off.” Lisa sat upright, smiling widely. “You? Acting?” Barry stiffened and shot her a mock offended look.

“Hey what’s so fuckin’ funny about that?” His stifled laughter caused a grin to creep onto his lips the more he went on. “You don’t think I could do Shakespeare, huh? Is that what I’m hearing, Lisa?”

“Oh no of course not,” Lisa exclaimed, returning the tone. “I see it now, you and your...” She tried to continue through her erupting giggle. “Your fuckin long john’s and your big fuckin collar!” Barry burst into laughter whilst playfully covering her mouth and shaking her head from side to side.

“Fuck you, fuck you, aaaand fuck you.” His laughter died down to a soft smile as he put his arm back around her shoulder. “You know I used to call him Billy Rattlestick? Get it? Cause it’s William Shakes-”

“Shut. Up.” Lisa cut him off. “Fuckin Rattlestick... you idiot.”

“But yeah, that’s how I’m uh...” He brushed down his jeans awkwardly. “That’s how I’m finding myself.” He ran his hand over his face and took another swig of beer.

“That’s commendable, dude.” Lisa rubbed his back and gave a warm smile. “You gotta have something other than what you’re doing now. I mean this...” She waved her hand around the room. “This isn’t really who you are. I can see that and I’ve known you eight seconds, y’know?”

“Yeah...” Barry drifted off into space, smiling contently.

“You’re kind...” She tilted her head. “Fun...” She continued, walking her fingers across his shoulder. “And... you’re a great kisser.” She winked at him. Barry tilted his head to meet with hers, getting lost once again in that pretty, pretty face.

Lisa had almost forgotten the reason Barry was here. She had those strong arms around her again, breathing in his cologne and accepting that it made her happy. Even if it was a fleeting moment with a potentially dangerous stranger, she was living in the moment for once and riding the joyous wave. She squinted a little, trying to recall a time in her life where she felt this secure. Her train of thought was cut short by Barry’s voice.

“So what about you?”

“What about me?” She shuffled a little under his arm, feeling the needling questions coming.

“Well I told you my background. I’m not believing for a second that you were always a...” He chewed his cheek quizzically.

“A whore? A prostitute? A smokin’ hot lady of the evening?” She questioned coyly.

“An equally great kisser...” He cut in, smiling sweetly. “But yeah... sure. How’d that happen?”

She sat upright, took a long drag of her cig and drained the last of her beer. Forcing a smile, she began.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was once an assistant librarian?” She giggled softly. Barry offered an encouraging smile. “Well I was. I worked in a dusty old library in my hometown when I was like sixteen and it was the whole world to me. I got to turn my passion for books into a job and my parents were overbearing. Great... amazing, actually...” She trailed off with a smile. A smile that lingered only for the memory of her parents and the smell of old books and dusty shelves. “But it was nice to be making my own money and slowly building a modicum of independence.” She rubbed the back of her neck took another drag of her cig. “Anyway, I’m working and in walks this gorgeous guy by the name of Bradley. This stupid, handsome, bumbling guy my age who used to come in and talk to me like every week. I knew right away he was into me.” She looked at Barry and laughed softly. “Fucker was on the same damn page of Catcher in the Rye for weeks before I finally put him out of his misery and asked him out.” She grinned at Barry who returned it promptly. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing a tall, bearded young man with red hair, hazel eyes and smile that could save the world in her eyes. She could feel Bradley’s arms envelop her and for a brief second, she felt warm. She felt like she was right there, before the sharp sting of recollection struck. “So we dated, fell in love, left town... and we were so happy. Like a disgusting kind of happy, right? He was studying to be an accountant and I had landed my perfect job: a real, actual librarian.” She smiled sheepishly. “Lame, right?”

Barry gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Go on.”

“So uh...” She lit up another cigarette and cracked open another beer. “We were happy. We were a typical, boring ass couple but it was neat, y’know? Shopping trips, date nights, stupid arguments over laundry...” She was now gently beginning to rock back and forth, leaning her elbows on her knees. Her tone dropped. “One night, we were walking back from a movie and these... fuckin’ pieces of shit...” Her voice shook. “They shot him. They shot him for money. I couldn’t move... I couldn’t move, man and it all happened so fast...” Lisa couldn’t help but see it. The sidewalk, the blood, Bradley’s blank face. She felt the guilt rise in her again like a swelling in her chest. All she could do in that moment was stare in horror as they rifled through the coat of the body that was once the love of her life. She saw them run and suddenly that scream that was so absent five minutes before they left suddenly ripped through her chest and out of her throat. She screamed so loud she thought her ears might bleed. She remembered laying by his body and screaming until her throat was raw. She sobbed, she wheezed, she kissed his face and hands and she begged anyone listening above to bring him back. She winced and gripped her chest whilst Barry rubbed her shoulders. She nodded, signalling that she was alright to keep going. Her eyes wide and her breathing a low wheeze, she went on. “Then I did something worse.” She was barely whispering now. “I didn’t call the cops. I followed them, followed to some shitty fucking modern lookin’ brothel. Completely illegal and it would have been so fuckin easy had I just call the fuckin cops but I didn’t...” Her hands began to shake, causing her to pull on her fingers anxiously. “I... went in posing as one of the workers and..." She began to stammer. “I g-got rid of them, Barry.” She looked at him dead-eyed and, with a deliberate lack of haste, went on again. “I killed them. Six men. All gone.” Her eyes darted around the room and she brought her hands up to her face, trying to smoke out the images. The gun in her pocket, the knife in her hand. She felt rage like never before. She ploughed through them like they were nothing. They didn’t expect it but Lisa was there. Slicing and shooting and ripping through those men blinded by red beads of fury and grief. “I didn’t just lose Bradley that night, Barry. I lost myself. I had to leave to save myself and everyone who knew me before. I left everything behind. My job, my life, my family... I’m probably dead for all they know.” A single tear dropped from her face on to her lap. “You wanna know what the worst part is?” She looked back to Barry, who had a pained look on his face, his hand still firmly on her shoulder. “I didn’t feel bad for doing it at the time... I felt... it felt...” Her breath hitched.

“Good.” Barry murmured, staring past her and into his own mind.

“Yeah...” She gave a stuttered sigh and rubbed her face, a sense of guilt mixed with relief washing over her, making her body feel limp and cold.

Barry now understood why she barely flinched when he told her what he did. She knows how it feels to take a life. Several of them. She felt the pain, the brain shattering guilt and very brief but sickening sense of pride at how easy it was. What’s more, she had to deal with this pain and loss alone. He put his arms around her and squeezed her tight.

He didn’t have to say a word.

Lisa tried to steady her breathing and wiped the tears away. Her story, until now, was untold, never uttered and forcefully ripped from her memory most days. It was only ever at night that those six faces crawled inside her mind. She needed them out, any way she could, the only way she knew how. Whilst Barry was up getting her water, she put out her cig and put down her beer, straightening out her dress and smoothing her hair. When he returned she was quick to speak.

“Okay, you know my story now.” She took the water and set it down on the table, her eyes never leaving his. “Show me.”

“Huh?” She asked softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean-”

“Show me...” She edged closer to him. Barry’s lip quivered and he tightened his grip on her. He could feel the weed and the alcohol dimming his restraint. “Show me who you really are, Barry.”

Barry inhaled through his teeth shut his eyes tightly. He was finding it harder and harder to ignore the ambiguous connection he had to this woman. “Lisa, just relax, okay? I don’t think we should do this...”

“Please...” She trailed a painted fingernail down his lower lips, running her other hand up the back of his neck and through his hair. “You saved my life, you’re currently saving my life...” She bit her lip when she felt Barry’s hand grip the back of her neck in that same spot as before. “Let me say thank you, Barry. Show me who you want to be.” The last word was whisper as she felt Barry’s lips press firmly quickly to hers, growling into her mouth. He dragged his fingernails down her exposed back and trailed his lips down to her neck, fully intending to show her who he really was, the man she unleashed inside of him.

[tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016]

Submit To Me (Chapter Four)

Authors Note- Aaaand here is where things will finally, finally begin to pick up. This will take place a few months after the previous incident. And where Silas will finally reveal part of his true self. Safe to say that poor Gavin will find that things aren’t what they seem. This chapter will include things such as Swearing, non-con kissing, choking, and Silas just being a really terrifying person in general. Again, sorry this isn’t the best Reed900 fanfic you’ve ever read. It’s my first time writing for this pairing. That being said I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 4: Rage and Confusion

“How fucking dare you?!” Gavin roared, followed by the sound of his chair clattering to the ground. While Silas stood impassively before the enraged detective. 

“I only did what was expected of me.” Silas said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Expected of you?” Gavin looked at incredulous, hands fisted at his sides, resisting the urge to wipe that smug look off the androids face, though he knew it would do no good, the fucking thing couldn’t feel pain.

 Silas sighed, annoyance tinting his voice. “Should I have lied to the Captain? Lied about your...” Silas trailed off, thinking of the right word. 

It had been three months since their previous incident with the deviant android. And Gavin had made a full recovery with a few new scars to add to his collection of scars adorning his body. Though that was the only thing different about him, since then things hadn’t changed, though Silas didn’t think anything would have, but since then Gavin’s attitude towards him had worsened. And if Silas had to guess it might have started when Silas mentioned his careless mistake to the Captain  back when they were investigating those murders involving an deviant android. Obviously Reed wasn’t too pleased with having his fuck up common knowledge to the rest of the precinct.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, remembering the look of humiliation of the man’s face as Fowler ripped him a new one. Silas remembered the way Gavin’s cheeks flushed, shame gripping the man. It suited him, almost as much as anger it. 

“Hey, asshole I’m talking to you!” Gavin snarled, jerking Silas from his thoughts. His face mere inches from his, taking the android by surprise. 

“I’m sorry.” Silas said. 

“Yeah you should be-”

“I’m sorry that me being truthful in my report hurt you feelings Gavin.” Silas said, the fake politeness gone from his voice. Any other day Silas would have revelled in his anger, found it...

Shaking his head Silas brought himself back to the present. Gavin’s eyes wide in barely contained rage as he took step towards Silas. His hands gripping the lapels of Silas’ jacket, face inches from his. 

“You think I care about that?” Gavin hissed, teeth clenched. 

“Of course you do, though let’s be honest you’re more upset that it was me, an android that called you out on your incompetence.” Silas said.

Silence fell over the two, and Silas was more than glad it was just the two of them, as Gavin pulled back his fist and struck him in the jaw, making him stagger. 

“I hit the nail on the head, haven’t I?” Silas asked, rubbing at his jaw, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Gavin couldn’t put his finger on it as he watched as Silas picked himself up, but if he had to guess he would have to say that Silas was enjoying every minute of this little argument. 

“You’re job is to obey humans.” Gavin growled slinking towards Silas, looking up at the android, staring at that impassive face, to those cool grey eyes.  “Not to go behind their back like that, not to rat them out to their bosses. You know what you just did?”

“Gee, I couldn’t have added another black mark to you steady growing disciplinary file, could I?” Silas asked, taking Gavin aback at the sarcasm in Silas’ voice. Silas was nothing like Connor, nothing like the friendly, cheerful android that was eager to help. 

This one was quiet, features sharper than Connor’s, where as Connor had warm, friendly brown eyes, Silas had those cold grey eyes that seemed to bore into Gavin’s soul, making his skin crawl, there was something behind those eyes. Something about the way Silas looked caused the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Cold eyes, calculating eyes. Almost as unnerving as the way he smirked, or smiled at Gavin, like the fucking thing was planning something. 

Or like Gavin was the butt of some joke that only Silas knew. Either way it bugged the shit out of him, it freaked him out, and to make matters worst was that he was stuck with the damn thing. 

“You’re a fucking android, a plastic prick who should do what humans say.” Gavin hissed, gripping the handle of his gun, eyes glued on the android. That same shit-eating grin on his face. “You had no right ratting me out like that...”

“Your mistake caused us to lose our suspect.” Silas said, moving closer to him, hands still clasped behind his back.

Guilt stabbed at him. All anger seeming to melt away for a moment. “L-like you did any better.” He retorted. 

“Kind of hard to do when your partner refuses to let you help. And basically prevents you from going to the crime scene by leaving you in the dust.” Silas snapped.

Eyes wide, Gavin watched as Silas moved closer and closer. Something was definitely wrong with this android, most wouldn’t have argued so much, or at all. Most wouldn’t have said all he had, and yet...

“Are you deviant?” Gavin asked after a while, watching as Silas drew closer and closer.

Those words stopped Silas in his tracks, shock etched on his face. Gavin smirked it was nice to seem something on the assholes face aside from the usual impassiveness he always wore next to the usual smugness he wore when talking to him. Before Gavin could dwell on the thought for much longer the look was gone.

“Perhaps...” Silas murmured, looked down at Gavin. “Question is,” he asked moving towards the Detective again. “What would you do if I was?”

So that would explain everything, the way Silas didn’t act the way he would expect an android to act. Why it always seemed to enjoy making him angry. Well, if Silas was deviant then...

Grinning maliciously Gavin reached for his gun, pulling it out he studied Silas’ expression as he pressed the barrel of it against his forehead. “Well, if you are defective then I guess I’ll have to put you out of your misery, and mine. So, are you deviant?” 

“Wouldn’t you love that, Gavin.” Silas murmured, leaning forward, ignoring the gun pressed against his head. “You would love to be rid of me, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d be elated.” Gavin snarled.

“Which is a shame,” Silas gripped Gavin’s wrist, pulling his hand away from him, tightening his grip on the detective’s arm until Gavin let out a strangled cry. “Because deviant or not I have no intention on leaving. No matter how hard to whine, bitch, or how much you throw a temper tantrum. And you have only you to blame for it, Gavin.”

A shiver ran down Gavin’s spine at the way Silas said his name. Wrenching his arm free he kept his gaze locked on the android as it moved closer and closer to him. There was something else in those eyes of his, something hungry. Something dark. Something cruel. 

Gritting his teeth Gavin raised his gun, the barrel pointed at Silas’ chest as he continued to advance. 

“Ever since I met you there has been something about you that had intrigued me. Something about you that called out to me. Something inside of me that is drawn to you. Something that wants to get to know you, inside and out. I’ve tried to stop it...” Silas’s brow furrowed, seeming lost in his own little world.

And for the first time in a very long time Gavin Reed was actually scared. Taking a step back he bit back a curse when he backed into one of the desks, not tearing his eyes from the android that was slowly advancing on him. 

“Sounds to me like you are fucked in the head.” Gavin said, inching around the desk to get as far away from Silas as he could, mentally kicking himself for allowing himself to stay here alone with him. And now, he was going to get killed by this fucker. 

“Perhaps,” Silas agreed. A thrill going through his body as he saw the terror in Gavin’s eyes. “But still... I’m loving it. And you know what else, Gavin?”

Silence. The detective in question as moving across the office, away from him. Sighing, he followed after him. Grabbing a hold of Gavin’s wrist, just as he swung at Silas, which he deftly dodged, before grabbing a hold of both of Gavin’s wrists. Pinning the man against the wall, cornering him.

“First of it’s rather rude for you to walk off when someone is talking to you.” Silas sighed, as Gavin continued to struggle against him, all in vain, Silas was, and always would be the stronger of the two. The joys of being an android, to think that Gavin thought nothing of him, when all it would take was a flick of his wrist and he could end his life. Not that he ever would, but it was always a nice thought.

“Well, excuse me if I don’t want to deal with you anymore tonight. Or ever since you’re acting crazy, and you know what? Come tomorrow I’m putting a call into Cyberlife and having your defective ass tossed into the junk heap-”

“That’s quite enough, Gavin.” Silas sighed, his hand wrapping around Gavin’s fragile, human neck, all it would take was him closing his hand around his neck and that would be all she wrote. “You’re not getting rid of me.” He whispered, pressing Gavin against the wall, hovering over him. 

That anger that shone so beautifully in Gavin’s eyes was quickly replaced with terror. “I want to know everything about you.” Silas said, his voice getting quieter and quieter. His faces inching closer and closer to Gavin, who had stopped struggling to look at him.

“The hell are you going to do-”

Whatever else Gavin was going to ask was cut off as Silas pressed his surprisingly soft lips against his, silencing him. Shocked Gavin found himself unable to move, of all the things he would experience this would be the last thing on the list...it was...different. It was kind of nice, even if the android currently kissing him was outright terrifying. However, before Gavin could dwell that thought any further Silas slowly pulled away. His cheeks flushed a soft blue, and he seemed out of breath.

Silence permeated the room as the two men stood staring at each other, the hand that had been previously wrapped around Gavin’s throat was now caressing his cheek as Silas took in the sight of the man. Smiling when he saw pink dusting Gavin’ s cheeks, and he seemed out of breath.

Then what seemed like forever Silas pulled his hand away. “You won’t get rid of me. I won’t let you.” Silas whispered. “After all, you belong to me.”

And with that Silas was gone, leaving poor Gavin to his jumbled thoughts, as he stood there with his back still pressed up against the wall, cheeks still flushed. After what seemed like forever Gavin finally moved, his fingers brushing against his lips, his mind reliving the kiss over and over again, anger warring with confusion over it. He...liked it. He actually liked it... Blinking a few times he looked after Silas, wondering where the android was going with this, and wondering what he was going to do with this knew found knowledge.

Brushing those thoughts from his head, he made his way to his desk to grab his jacket, and powering his computer down before leaving...thoughts of Silas running through his tired mind.

That was far better than Silas thought it would be, the android thought as he walked down the street, his tongue brushing against his lips as he headed to the small apartment he shared with Connor. Remembering the way Gavin tasted. He tasted of the coffee he lived off of, of the cigarette Silas had tried over and over again to get him to quit. And of something that was entirely Gavin. It was intoxicating, and Silas couldn’t help but think of how thigs would turn out for him and Gavin. Thoughts of the detective still running through his mind as he finally made it his home. He wanted more...

[yourhorrorhusband]

Join Your Family

(I heard the slasher fandom likes self-insert fiction. Well, this is my first attempt at writing some! I hope you like it! :) )

CW for slurs and typical Sawyer family-related shenanigans.

--

You, like so many before you, had stopped at a dinky little gas station about an hour outside Dallas. You, like so many before you, had run out of gas and you, like so many before you, had groaned and despaired when the aging attendant told you there was no gas-- no shipment till tomorrow. So you, like so many before you, had taken his invitation to come home to dinner; the barbecue you had sampled while idly contemplating your next move had been delicious, and if the man could make gas station food taste good, he was surely a wizard in a kitchen.

So you said sayonara to your little blue four-door as you hopped into the passenger side of his truck. The man, though you’d initially been put off by his rough and weasel-like appearance, seemed nice enough. As you drove the short distance back to the house, he told you about his family, about his brothers and the grandfather they lived with. He ribbed on his brothers, offhandedly mentioned how they needed him for everything. You nodded and laughed. Yes, you commented, wasn’t that how little siblings always were?

By the time you made it to the house both of you were laughing. You stepped onto the front porch, but just as you were about to head in, he stopped you.

“Wait here,” he said. “I wanna make sure those idiots aren’t burning the house down or running around naked before I bring a guest in.”

And as he went inside you had to slap your hands over your mouth to keep from bursting out into another fit of giggles.

You waited patiently, watched the door, whistled softly. You were so focused on the door, in fact, that you failed to notice a rather unstealthy person creep up behind you. You noticed, even less so, the sound of a hammer cutting through the air as it made contact with your skull.

--

You woke up at the end of a shitty-looking dining table, three sets of eyes piercing into you. Still emerging from your brain fog, you groaned at them. Recognizing the blurry shape of the attendant, you asked him, “What happened?”

He wrung his hands, and even through the haze of your vision you could see his body pouring with sweat. “Now don’t you worry your little head. This’ll all be over before ya know it.”

“What will?” You asked. You got no reply from him, just a hoot of laughter from the second blurry shape at the table, and a burst of giggles from the third.

Something was wrong, of that you were sure. You wanted to leave, but as you tugged your weary body up to go, you noted that you couldn’t. You looked down at yourself and saw that both your arms and legs were roped to your chair. That cut through the fog very, very quickly.

You struggled against your bindings, but it was nothing more than a formality; you knew you were going nowhere. You swallowed hard, tried not to let the panic get to you.

“What do you want?” You asked. “I don’t have any money and neither does my family.”

“Money!” The man who’d laughed at you earlier, who you now saw in all his long-haired and crooked teethed glory, shouted. He seemed tickled to bits about this whole scene and that was almost the worst part. “I don’t want no Goddamn money! I just want my supper!”

“You won’t get a lick of supper if you don’t shut’cher ass up!” The attendant squawked, slapping the greasy man upside his head. “Honestly, you’d think I never taught ya any manners!”

Supper. You hadn’t noticed it before, but the mention of the word had brought to your attention a sour, sickening smell. Spread across the table were several plates of, well, meat. Indiscernible, unidentifiable meat. None of it looked especially good, and you could swear by the stench that none of it was good either. The sea of brown, grey and red-- pocked by buzzing flies and uninterrupted by a single splash of color-- made bile rise to your mouth and tears rise in your eyes. You screwed your eyes shut and swallowed as fast as you could, hoping they didn’t notice, but you weren’t quick enough.

“What? Don’t like supper? Does it smell bad?” The greasy man pouted his bottom lip at you, brows knitted. “Well, why don’t we just put you out of your misery, you poor, ungrateful little thing?”

There’s another hootenanny, and a fucking cacophony of obnoxious fucking voices rang in your ears. It didn’t seem as though there were four of you in this room-- rather, two hundred souls were crowded around the table, all of them pointing, laughing, reveling in the misery you’d yet to find the joke in.

From his (Her? Their? Its? You can’t tell really tell.) place at the table, the person with the oddly discolored skin rose. No, no, no, wait-- wait. As he approached you noted, it wasn’t a condition that affected the skin of his face, he simply had a different face on. You tried to get a better look as he walked behind you, but he was quick and your brain was still having some trouble focusing. You prayed, prayed to God in heaven that is was just a cheap, poorly made latex mask that he wore; prayed that this whole set-up was an elaborate Halloween prank that they took just a little too seriously.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and buried his(?) face into your scalp. He stayed there for a moment, and you felt the vibration of words against your head, though you couldn’t understand a thing. Then he kissed your head, sighed in relief and violently tugged your head backwards. He mumbled something to the other two at the table, but he might has well have been speaking Mandarin for all that you could discern.

“What!” The greasy man shot up suddenly, pulled a knife from his furry pouch and pointed it at the man with the mask. “I don’t take orders from you, you hide-wearing sonuvabitch! I ain’t gonna waste blood or pity slittin’ no trespasser’s neck!”

The man in the mask whimpered and muttered something else.

“He’s right,” the attendant said with a sigh. “Technically, our friend here isn’t a trespasser. Just a guest.”

“Don’t encourage him!” The greasy man said, pointing his knife between the two other men. If you had to, you would assume these were the brothers the attendant mentioned, though they looked young enough to be his kids. You decided not to waste the brain power on contemplating that, electing instead to beg Jesus to forgive every transgression you could think of.

There was some back-and-forth between them, quickly growing loud and heated. You’re able to ignore it for a while, focus on the black space behind your eyelids and the sound of your own voice in your head-- until the blade of a knife is pushed to your throat.

“Fine!” The greasy man snarled. “We’ll do it your way, you pussy-willows! I’ll just cut out this little punk’s throat and then we can all shut the hell up and eat!”

The knife flew from your throat to point at the man in the mask, who at some point during the argument had moved away from you. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get Grandpa, since you were too stupid to do it before dinner!”

The man in the mask, who you swear looked close to tears, ran off. While he was gone, the other two occupied themselves with another shouting match.

“Ya think yer a tough guy now, do ya, Mr. van Gogh? Ya think you get to call the shots around here?” The attendant spat at his brother, who spat right back.

“I reckon I am tough! Tougher’n you are! Sittin’ behind a counter and workin’ in a kitchen all day’s made you soft! Someone’s gotta be a man around here, and we both know it won’t be Bubba!”

“Big words comin’ from a man who can’t do nothin’ useful! Maybe if you stopped workin’ on your queer little art projects all day, I could find time to get my hands dirty again!”

“If I wasn’t in my right mind I’d scalp you, you old fucker!”

“You don’t got the balls!”

Your head began to hurt. Well, hurt even worse than what the blunt force trauma had made it. Luckily for you, the masked man returned back downstairs, pushing what you assumed was supposed to be a person, but looked more like a mummy. The idiots at the table fired off their last few words as the mummy was wheeled over to you, then the tension seemed to just fizzle out.

As his brother had before, the greasy man stood behind you and grabbed your hair, exposing your neck to the others in the room.

“Oh shit!” the attendant muttered; he briefly disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a large empty bowl. “If we’re doin’ it this way, we better make sure we save as much as we can. You make sure the cut’s clean and we can feed Grandpa for a whole month!”

“Feed him?” Your voice betrayed you; you sounded so small. “Is he gonna drink my blood?”

“Yeah, Einstein! You figure that out all on your own?” The greasy man said.

Something dawned on you just then. The drinking of blood, the weird mask-- the piles of meat. Your eyes flickered to the table. The piles of meat.

“It’s-- that’s people.” You muttered, your eyes still fixed on the table. “That’s human.”

You were surprisingly calm when you spoke, and not the fake kind of calm that can’t hide panic. If you were paying any attention to them, you might have seen that the men around you seemed just a touch shocked.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” The attendant admitted. “That bit of jerky you had earlier was too.” He said something about the meat being the finest cuts, but you didn’t really care. That wasn’t what was important. What mattered was that it was human.

You looked slowly back to the attendant, then to the masked man, meeting their eyes.

“If you’re gonna kill me, fine. But… I have one last request.”

The greasy man snorted. “You’re cute. What is it?”

“I want dinner.”

All the noise seemed to stop at once. The laughing souls dissipated, the noisy crickets quieted, the owls and night creatures ceased their sounds. But most importantly, the men were silenced. They looked to each other, dumbfounded, the truly unusual circumstances robbing them both of words and of actions.

After a long, quiet minute the man in the mask grabbed the plate from his setting, piling a little from each separate mound of meat onto it. Then he set the plate down in front of you and smiled nervously, lopsided. He looked away and began to pick at his fingers when the attendant sighed.

“All right, cut ‘em loose.”

“What!” the greasy man bellowed, much too close to your ear.

“Just the hands, you nincompoop! No one’s running away.”

With a great deal of reluctance and no shortage of curses, the greasy man unbound your hands and took his spot at the table. He pouted but you refused to give him the time. Before you dug in, you simply smiled at the man in the mask, who hid his face in his hands and giggled. Cute.

Unsure where to start, you simply plucked up what was on top: a section of rib, smoked and unglazed. The smell still wasn’t great, but knowing what it was, you found you could ignore the smell. You brought it to your lips and sunk your teeth in, a splash of juice bursting forth and running down your chin.

The meat, despite its funky smell, was delicious. It was everything you’d ever dreamed it’d be and more! It was fatty, juicy and tender. It was sandwiched, tastewise, somewhere between pork and mutton, but there wasn’t any gameiness to it. You suspect this had at least a little bit to do with the way it was smoked-- applewood, you’d guessed, low and slow. You think maybe it had been cured beforehand. You didn’t care, just like you didn’t care about the tears that burned the corners of your eyes.

When you finished the rib, you tossed the bone to the floor. Hungrily, your appetite whet now, you snatched up a fat link of sausage and devoured it. It had a nice snap to it, as all good sausages do, and you were sure they used authentic casing-- no gelatin here. There was a nice blend of spice inside, peppery but not too hot, with garlic and… something sweet you can’t quite place. Brown sugar? Maple syrup? Something subtle that offset the garlic. Again, this was smoked, and while it wasn’t as good as the ribs, you wouldn’t have said no to seconds.

“Is there anything that isn’t smoked?” you asked, curious. You didn’t hate smoked meats, but you wanted variety.

The attendant, who was thoroughly amused and laughing by this point, said, “Well, sure! The chops are pan-fried, and we also got a pot of chili in the kitchen if yer interested!”

Chili! Your eyes lit up and you nodded vigorously. “I’d love chili!” you said around the sausage in your mouth. The attendant elbowed the masked man in the ribs and he sprang up to get you a bowl. When he returned with it-- as well as a thick-cut chop-- you smiled at him, meat juice running down your chin. Curiously, he used his tie to wipe it away. You thanked him and he scuttled away.

The chop was amazing. This weren’t no deep-fried chop, no sir! This was fried in a cast iron skillet, in melted lard, just like your grandma made them! Rubbed with salt and pepper then dusted with flour, it was simple (and probably could have benefitted from some hot sauce), but it was still so, so good. Admittedly you wolfed it down, eager to eat, but also eager to finish, for the bowl of chili was within arm’s reach, and it was doing its best to seduce you with its warm, thick aroma.

You damn near pounced on it like an animal, for you were not unlike an animal in that moment. Any outsider with a lick of sense would certainly call you a beast. But you would disregard their sharp comments because you knew that, like you, they wanted to try this, wanted to rip into the flesh of men with their teeth the way they ripped in with their words or their knives. They could give you all manner of designation but anyone would be a fool not to jump at the chance you had.

So you cup the bowl of chili in your hands, let the warmth of it burn your fingertips to a comfortable numbing. You return it to the table and you indulge. It was good, you were thankful. The attendant mentioned that it was award-winning and you could see why.

You polished off the bowl and you cleaned your plate. Everything hit some previously untouched spot that you didn’t know you had in you, satisfying something positively carnal. With a pat of your stomach, you tipped your head back, marked yourself as spent.

The others took their time, finished in relative quiet. You focused on the warm feeling that grew and spread inside of you. You felt good. You felt fulfilled. It was so brief, but this was something you’d always wanted, and it had been glorious.

“Good?” You heard the greasy man ask.

You aren’t sure if he was asking if the food was good, or if you were. Either way, you answered, in a voice soft and plush, “Yes.”

“Good.”

You barely had time to register the sound of him standing before your chair was pulled out and his knife was plunged into your stuffed and aching gut. You gasped, unable to contain the choking sounds he ripped out from you.

“Goddamnit!” The attendant cried as he leapt to his feet. “Ya said you were just gonna bleed-”

“I was gonna till you pissed me off, ya old coot! Now you get to clean guts off the floor.”

Guts? You looked down at yourself just in time to watch him rip the knife upward in jerky, tearing motions. Oh. There were your guts. They spilled out of you, fell in meaty curtains from the bursting balloon of your belly. You can’t remember if you felt any pain, but you do remember feeling absolutely distraught that your stomach had ruptured. The only tally you’d crossed off your bucket list, wasted-- strewn, chewed and partially-digested, on the floor. More than any actual pain, that was what brought the tears to your eyes.

You reached down for what had fallen onto the floor, delusional in your dying state. Try as you might, though, you simply could not retrieve what had been yours just moments ago. Someone, watching you struggle, laughed.

When you finally realized it was impossible to put the food back inside of your ruptured stomach, you decide to try the next best thing: putting your guts back inside yourself. You knew you had to work fast, for time was of the essence, but everything had become so slow. You were trapped on the in-between frames of a stop motion cartoon, jerking your body in ways that even you could not consciously comprehend.

You gathered up your intestines as best you could and pushed them back inside of yourself. You held them, held held held, as though God might see your efforts and seal your tummy back up. He didn’t, surprisingly, and in that moment you knew your fate was truly, end-all be-all sealed.

You released your guts then, let them fall out haphazardly once more. Unlike the meat on the table, you noticed that they were all in lovely hues of red, purple, salmon, with pretty blue veins coursing through them, breaking up the single-color monotonies. Like a layer of varnish, they were all covered in this milky white veneer, which shown glossy and caught the light just right. You were beautiful inside, and it pained you to know that soon your insides would join in the sea of brown-red-grey.

As things got harder to process, the men at the table stalked in on you, grew closer and closer with each breath. They laid their hands on you, prodded and stroked and pulled and touched-- you think you felt the knife again, on your arms or in your mouth, but you couldn’t be sure. There was a small comfort to their touches; you didn’t think they were trying to make you feel better, trying to ease you into the blackness behind your eyelids, but they were and that was enough.

Maybe, you realized, it wouldn’t be so bad when they ate you. You would lose your color, yes, but you would gain so much in taste. Your meats would no longer be bland and wet and tasteless, unpalatable to anyone but the lowest of dogs. You would become peppery and sweet and you would nourish a family. What they didn’t eat of you would go to the hogs, and what didn’t go to the hogs would go to the dirt and the flowers, and what didn’t go to the hogs or the plants would go to the family.

In a way you would become a part of them, even if it was only for a little while. That was better to think about than dying. So when the voices and the crickets and the snuffling hogs, the men and the owls and the night creatures were all quiet on that summer night, you resigned yourself to happiness. You were ready to join your family