#maybe Otto’s just better at controlling his anger

[cjbolan]

we didn't even see alicent's reaction to learning that aemond got luce killed

I’m guessing Alicent was pretty upset when she found out. Because she blames Aemond for the upcoming war with Luce’s mom Rhaenyra.

I’m surprised Otto wasn’t more upset. He instead says “Aemond…erred”. In a very uncaring and euphemistic tone. Like Otto thinks mauling your cousin to death is just a small error. I know Otto hates Team Black, but he also cares a lot about upholding his own family’s reputation. And his grandson committing manslaughter would absolutely tarnish that reputation.

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi, could you write something that deals with this? ......

https://www.tumblr.com/mhsdatgo/737617577019408384/gorgeous-little-piece-of-shit-king-that-lives-in

So at first I was like lmfaooooo but then I was like wait I can put this little blonde bitch in the WORST situation. I shall do my best, thanks for the request, I hope to get back to my pathetic Aegon roots for this one.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dark divergence from canon, Aegon is more cutthroat, King Aegon, Lannister!Reader, she’s a daughter of Tyland, Tyland is on his king behavior, meanwhile dumbass Jason, Aegon has the wife parade, he’s literally still little baby man, Manipulative and morally gray reader, Aegon Is A Pain Slut, ye olde cock ring, ruined orgasms, Degredation, bratting for like 1s, breeding kink, boobs fixation, overstimmimg, pnv!sex

A/N: Wayyyyyy off canon and just so I can make this guy cry also I try to stray from making oc’s but bc it’s a Lannister reader y’know. Body type/face/skin/hair texture is up to you, just know gold hair and green eyes. Also kinda got into a storyline? Idk smut is here!!!

As Tyland Lannister’s only daughter, he sought to keep you on Casterly Rock. It was rare for a house as proud and mighty as yours not to have their fairest ladies sent to catch a dragon’s eye. Or merely have it chosen for you. Jason would’ve had you wedded and bedded to any of the white haired boys by now. Your father was stated once in a letter, “I’d liken it to a den of snakes rather than dragons.”

From his reports they were strange or downright deviant, controlled heavily by their green side of the family. Rhaenyra’s brood was of a better nature but obviously born from the seed of Harwin Strong. So you went about your duties, becoming a fine educated highborn lady to sit around and pop out babies. Maybe order fancy dresses out of boredom.

Although you childishly dreamt that a handsome white-haired man would take you dragon riding, that was not your future. Fate had other plans. Firstly, you were barred from going to the grand wedding of Prince Aemond to Lady Cassandra Baratheon. Strangely enough, it was to be held at the Hand’s gloomy accursed Harrenhal. You wrote an angry letter to your father and another to Jason, downright distraught over missing another royal wedding. You could find a potential mate at one of these gatherings!

Tyland wrote back simply, “I do not want you in that bewitched place. I have an uneasy feeling about this. I pray for you and love you dear lioness of Lannnister, still roaring her heart away.”

The initial anger faded into fear. Then the news had returned. Your Maester read the report. Dragon against dragon, blood to blood, they would call the failed union the ‘Green Wedding.’ Crown Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, all children dead but her toddling boy and blonde babes on Dragonstone

King Viserys had died the night before. Otto Hightower took matters into his own hands. Some would say it was well executed but not thought out. Princess Helaena had perished, the Blood Wyrm Caraxes attacking her in a fury before she could make it to her own dragon.

Prince Aemond and Aegon had taken to scorching Rhaenyra’s tent and all of her accompanying vassals. Harrenhal was lit aflame again— the Strongs burning up in a sea of smoke. The rest of the Hightowers had been haphazardly thrown into a wheelhouse, Queen Alicent purportedly retching and sobbing, crying for her daughter and late husband. They lay in boxes behind the cart. She had the young Daeron only for comfort.

Your mouth twisted up at the retelling of the scene of kin slaying and wretchedness. Your family had no love for the Blacks but for the Greens to so vilely destroy their own flesh and blood? You idly wondered about all of those dragons without riders. What Corlys and Rhaenys would do? She was fierce yet only had the young Baela and Rhaena.

Tyland had written to stay put, the Westerlands swore to the new King Aegon. War broke out as expected. The dragons saw an end to the strife rather quickly due to the help of Targaryen bastards mounting the riderless beasts. The realm was back under the control of the inept and horrid King Aegon the Second. They called it the half-year’s war. People spoke in hushed tones even at Casterly Rock.

Accursed family, we’re all doomed.

Otto Hightower should be sent to the wall— alas, then we’d have an idiot as a king.

Is the King going to marry soon?

You personally hoped he would marry soon. Jason had requested a portrait of you. There was no hidden reason why— he wanted lion’s blood on the already drenched Iron Throne. Your own father was staunch against that, writing that he had received a proposal from the Reynes of Castamere. You had smiled at that, their heir Ser Lynden was particularly handsome and kind. They had the riches to keep your lifestyle the same.

Not like the Targaryen’s didn’t. King Aegon could maybe see for a Dayne girl with their ashen hair and purple eyes. Or a Celtigar, they still had Valyrian blood. Mayhaps import one from Old Volantis— they claimed strong ancestry.

Alas. The raven came, your father’s anger poorly concealed.

“Even after all of my duties and help to the crown, asking for the Hand to keep my only daughter out of this, you are requested to be shown before the king along with the other highborn ladies of the Realm. I thought about setting my fool brother’s portrait on fire. Regardless, it shall be good to see my young lioness. I will be there every step of the way. Be kind.”

Your stomach sank to your toes before rising back up with anger. If that kinslaying mongrel deviant whore thought for a second he would enjoy your company? He would be sorely mistaken. Dragons may have claws, but so do lions and they are long and sharp. Huffing in anger, you stormed away from the letter.

The trip to the Red Keep was abysmal. It rained the entire way, you had to stop at Deep Den for a night to let the rains up. Their stony, cold castle was damp and you barely slept a wink. You awoke to ride to the Gold Road until the city walls and the Red Keep towered in the distance. You awed at the Dragonpit and the great Sept and it’s crystals.

Regardless of the magnificent buildings, the stench of the city was vile, air putrid with rotting fish and dung heaps. Nasty little peasants ogled your gold and red wheelhouse. Your frown deepened, anger boiling your blood. There was no way one could enjoy living here, fight to be here! King's Landing was a pile of shit with a Castle on top.

You were warmly welcomed by your father, a maid holding your dress aloft so the golden filigree wouldn’t get all mucky. Tyland hugged you and exhaustion fell over your body. You missed him dearly, the singular parent. Although your grandmother was very dear, she too had passed not too long ago.

Heads were still on pikes behind you. The smell of rot was stronger in the courtyard. You said in a miserable warble, “I detest it already, please dress me up ugly, maim me.” The fool Jason patted your back and laughed, “Ah, I missed your acrid tongue. King’s Landing is an acquired taste. Your quarters are facing the Blackwater so you can get some fresh air.”

“Others take you and that damn portrait,” you hissed at your nuncle.

Tyland led you quietly into the huge keep, prying eyes from all around. No pale-haired Targaryens to be seen. You could hear them whisper about the gold of your hair, the wealth oozing from the gown. Yes, like any of you have seen true class since the Conciliator Passed.

Once in the room you snapped at a servant to pour wine, sipping while other’s shuffled in and out to bring your trunks of goods. Tyland even spoke up, “Careful with that dress, please, it is for tomorrow.” You spat, “Tomorrow?”

He held a finger up, exhaustion lacing his face. Swirling the wine around you watched the bay and waited until it was just the two of you in a comfortable silence. Tyland had taught you that— know without speaking, listen when to listen. Tyland looked aged as he sank into the cushioned chair. He ran a hand over his face and sighed, “I thought the Dowager queen would have my back. Her son is much more willful than we thought. Otto wants our coin.”

“Borrow it from a bank and maybe they’ll root these vipers away,” you whispered under a covered hand. You’d been informed of the spies all about under Larys Strong. Tyland hummed a laugh, beckoning you over. Crawling into his lap, you felt as if you were a child again, emotions welling. You began to weep softly.

He rubbed your heaving back and shushed your cries. You hiccuped, “I-If he-he-he ch-chooses me!” Tyland sighed and finished in a quiet murmur, “You will show him that a lion is nothing to play with. King Aegon may be a pandering fool but he is easily swayed. Most of us think he has eyes for the Tyrell cousin.”

“Good,” you heaved. You cried in your father's arms until he put you to sleep at some point, kissing your forehead. Sleep was restless and pointless, you managed to gather some hours before the maidservants came to dress you.

They bathed, scrubbed, and used imported Westerland items. The smell made you homesick. They braided and twisted your hair, pinning a red and gold piece on top. The dress was just as proud— gold, rubies, pearls decorating the sleeves and neckline. Myrish lace was up to your chin, secured by a choker of more exquisite jewels and peridot to bring out your eyes. It cuffed at your wrists too. Maybe it would be too much for the weak-willed king.

The choker represented who you would always belong to— House Lannister, the sigil in solid gold and red enamel. A larger version cinched your waist. He could take the maiden with her tits corseted to her chin. The king merely needed a broodmare. A lingering voice tutted, “He may find holes where he pleases, but the king needs a queen.”

The door opened, Tyland extended an arm, lips in a tight line. He knew what you looked like. A queen.

The hall was full of highborn Ladies as you entered, you instantly recognized most of the sigils and house colors. King Aegon sat on the monstrous throne lazily, sipping wine while Otto ordered around women. A girl in the colors of Rosby didn’t even make a step up before he said, “No chin, next,” he looked down at Otto, “I’ll never believe a portrait. The Lannister girl probably looks like Jason with teats.”

Anger bubbled in your chest at his flippant demeanor and comments. The queen sat next to Otto, chiding Aegon. Thankfully you had a while in line. A while to get rightfully furious with this brat of a king! You had met squires with more dignity than he!

As you neared the imposing throne, you gauged the King’s looks. Definitely Valyrian with his pretty white waves and big violet eyes— hazy with drink and boredom. He was not of a warrior’s build, much to your chagrin. Aegon had shapely thighs but the rest seemed to be softened from his infamous gluttony.

Aegon yawned and pointed, “Redwyne? Not bad, Cole, go put her in the ‘perhaps’ section. Green eyes moved to the score of ladies looking fearful over toward the side. How crass. You could cut his cock off. So embroiled in coming up with torture scenes you blinked suddenly at the boom.

“Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock, daughter of Tyland. Aged 19.”

You stepped forward and kept your chin high, holding Aegon’s gaze intently, lips stiff. The king perked up, moving forward to get a look. He laughed, “Your father is on my council and you don’t pay obeisance?” With a grimace, you gave a weak curtsy to the young King.

Jason looked wide eyed from the side, mouthing, “PLAY NICE!”

Aegon hummed, standing up to walk down the throne, crowds gasping. As he drew closer you noticed the burns going down his cheek to curl below his collar. His violet eyes swam with something, a ringed finger tapping your tilted chin. He rasped, “A lioness for sure. Just overjoyed to get yanked from your golden castle. Is that why you out-dressed the entire kingdom?”

“I had to make sure you knew who I would always be, my liege,” you hissed, “Dragons can be tamed.”

“So can lions,” he quipped back, full lips splitting into a grin. He curled burned fingers into the lace guarding your neck. Aegon cooed, “I do wonder what you’ve got hiding under here. I’m guessing you have some nice teats. That’s my favorite game at the brothels.”

“You’re a vile little kinslaying creature.”

Otto and Alicent seemed to panic before Aegon laughed— a shrieking giggle. He stepped back up onto the dais and cheered, “I have chosen! The Lioness shall be mine blushing bride. Cheers!”

There was the sound of more defeated ladies but their fathers were likely inwardly cheering. Tyland looked ghastly grim, nuncle coming to peel him away. You refused to face the crowds, stepping over to the queen and the hand, fully curtsying. The queen grasped your palms and pled, “Please, guide him the best you can. I see a strength in you I haven’t seen since…,” she looked off and grew drawn. Lord Otto smiled, “More Lannister’s the merrier. Maybe Tyland can lighten his load.”

Aegon asked, “Alright, so when do we begin planning?”

You huffed and went to your father, hot tears soaking your cheeks. You misjudged. You thought he would be repulsed by a powerful woman. Instead he plucked you right up and now held you in this cage for a home.

‘A caged lion is still a lion, yes, yes’, you thought.

Tyland stated with a fury you had never seen before, “You will make that spoilt dragon break and bend.”

“Of course father.”

Aegon whined from between your feet, a dainty gold chain clasping his wrists, connected up to a gold collar engraved with rubies. This king you once hated belonged to you- heart and soul. He’d do anything, but you just preferred him to listen and be your pretty fuck toy. You felt love for him, differently, still love.

You wore a lace shift, the fabric barely covering anything, full tits and the gold curls of your cunt showing through. Aegon made to lave at your knee, getting slapped off. The blonde mewled, “Whyyyyy? I’ve been good?” Toeing his flushed cock, the pathetic thing whimpered and his prick oozed on the marble. You asked, “Tell me why you’re in trouble, My King?”

He swallowed around the collar, doe eyes watery and lashes clumped. Aegon’s cheeks turned red and he barked, “I’m the fucking king, I can say what I like!” You picked up the oak paddle and slapped his soft pooch of a belly, Aegon whining and writhing— the freak spurting more cum, hunching over and wheezing at the pain to his tender tummy.

“If you aren’t going to be my special boy, then I’ll just let you sit here and think about your actions.”

“No! No, I’ll be your special boy. I should not have japed at that squire over dinner.”

You cocked your head and leaned closer, “Why is that hm?”

Aegon sobbed sharply, pouty lips blubbering, “Be-be-because Iburnedhisfamilyscastleafterkinslaying.” You smiled and patted his unruly waves, smiling, “Good boy. The Seven may give you a chance. Probably not because you set your sister and uncle aflame, then proceeded to burn half the kingdom. You should be at the Wall with other war criminals.”

He nodded and cried, spreading his creamy thighs out for you. It was vastly amazing how much Aegon loved to be degraded yet praised. Your special boy. Sliding down the chair you perched on the king’s thighs, cradling his head with your sharp nails. You cooed, “Just needed a guiding hand, look how the kingdom has blossomed since you became my special boy? So pathetic and hopeless. My pretty little baby needs his queen."

He whined, arching into your touch, begging for a kiss. You relented, letting the needy little thing lap and press fervently to your own. He drooled, you wiping it away and taking over the lip lock. Nibbling gently at bitten lips, lapping into a tongue that tasted like sweetened wine. Aegon relaxed into your embrace, leaking all over your thin gown.

He began to rut and rut against your cunt, whining into your kisses. You indulged him until he was swelling and stuttering, backing off and fitting the gold ring around his cock. Aegon wailed and fell back pathetically, the ruined orgasm fucking up his senses.

“Noooo, no, no, I apologized!,” he protested meekly.

Shaking your head you shrugged, “I decide when you are absolved, not a thought in that pretty blonde head. Above men, we are gods, pfft.” He grumbled and squirmed, digging his toes down in frustration.

You returned to play with him, massaging his soft belly while suckling on the tip of his purpling prick, fingers rudely shoved up behind his heavy balls. Aegon moaned and shook, calling your name and begging for release. You drank down his bitter cum, leaking from the attention to his sweet spot from below.

You pulled off to thumb around the crown of his cock, cooing, “Oh you’re so gorgeous. My pathetic, soft little dragon. Feels so so good, yes?” He was practically riding your fingers, shying away from the intensity of the stimulation to his cockhead. The blonde keened, “S’good, g-gonna!” He wailed and thrashed harder, tears streaking a blotchy face. Only a thin stream leaked from his second ruined orgasm.

Aegon was babbling apologies now, promising dresses, jewelry, lands, his heart in a box if he could. It was garbled with his heavy tongue and fervent need. Gibberish really, if one didn’t see this side of their pouty king. What the wretch turned into when denied a good release— a snotty, sobbing, wonderfully broken mess.

He heaved sobs now, oversensitive to even the cool air. But his balls were full and swollen. Patting a limp thigh you asked gently, “Do you want to come now? Inside me? Your punishment is over.” Aegon sniffled, “Please my love.” You would keep the ring on for now but take it off once it didn’t seem he may blow on sight.

Aegon whined high in his chest, more tears falling as you eased onto his plump prick, extra swollen and hot. You gasped and grabbed blonde hair, praising, “Mmm- yes my darling precious boy. Filling your queen up good.”

He groaned and feebly arched, grabbing your tits and holding them as you rode his overused cock. Aegon cried and whined for a suck, you allowing him to take off the shift and shudder as plump lips enveloped your tits. He squirmed and lapped eagerly, loving to have a mouthful of your teats. Especially during that first pregnancy.

You were already close from the intensity of the punishment, swirling fingers around your button while unlatching the gold ring from behind. Aegon’s eyes flew open as he moaned vigorously, balls pumping you full immediately as he writhed around, still attached to your full chest. Your lashes fluttered at the warm feeling, cunt sucking and enjoying the heat, slick, and pressure of so much seed..

Hopefully this would take too. Another little one to dote on. Aegon was full on sobbing now, overwhelmed with emotions. You helped him to sit upright, still inside. He mewled, “S’too much.” You hugged his frame and cooed, pressing little kisses to his tender scars, “It’ll numb out, we want this to take do we not? Be good.”

“M’ still your special boy?,” he asked with reddened eyes.

Petting a full cheek you responded, “Knew whether I liked you or not, you would be. Hush now, relax, we’ll get some dinner and a warm bath my sweet. Tomorrow is a busy day.” He nodded and nuzzled between your tits like a babe. You smirked. Who knew this power could be claimed without bloodshed?

[atopvisenyashill]

What if Laena Velaryon had been born a boy?

this one is a stumper for me because it changes a LOT (bc, and I cannot emphasize this enough, but Laena is important to the plot and to Rhaenyra as a character!!)

The great council still sides with Viserys because Laenor was alive, and Rhaenys pushed his claim in canon, so having a slightly older son isn't going to do much for that.

Where this really starts to affect the plot is when Viserys is looking to remarry. Laena is pushed forward as the "correct" match because she is Valyrian, and it would soothe Corlys and Rhaenys' ruffled feathers from the GC 101. But if they have no daughters, that clearly doesn't happen. This also means there is straight up no Valyrian woman able to marry and have children except Rhaenyra during this time period which is a little wild (Rhaenys and maybe Jocelyn are alive, but past child bearing years, and these people just refuse to marry Celtigars which is deeply funny). Viserys has some room to pick whoever he wants to marry in this situation though, and I think it's not unlikely that more than Otto tries to take advantage of that (but Otto is still going to win).

HOWEVER. Especially after Rhaenyra is named heir, I think Corlys starts pushing that a boy Laena (obviously she's called Laenor, and probably actual Laenor is called like, Lucerys or something) marries Rhaenyra. I think it's likely he throws himself behind Rhaenyra hard, insisting that Laena and House Velaryon will uphold her claim, protect her birthright, "We Will Be Strong As We Were In Old Valyria By Joining Our Blood", etc etc, and since Viserys is not snubbing Corlys by refusing to marry Laena, I think there’s a non zero chance Laena and Rhaenyra are engaged very young.

But what does this mean for the Dance? Well…

Rhaenyra is probably less hostile to her marriage. Laena is a daring dragon rider who adores his mother & supports Rhaenyra and, most importantly, can give her heirs, so I think Rhaenyra pushes against this marriage much less. However, part of Rhaenyra’s anger over the engagement isn’t just the risk of marrying a man who may not give her children, or easing her father’s political headaches, but the idea that Rhaenyra is not allowed sexual freedom while Daemon and Viserys (and later Aegon) all are. So whether Rhaenyra is hostile to the marriage largely depends on how well she gets on with Laena and whether she feels like has control over her sexuality. In canon they are close, but in canon Laena is a woman and that does make a difference. There’s also The Criston Cole And Daemon Of It All - if Rhaenyra has a fiancé looking out for her, does Rhaenyra get so attached to him? Does whatever happens the night she goes to Daemon & Criston still happen?

It’s all kind of hard to say considering both Eustace and Mushroom are full of shit and Gyldayn is a raging misogynist. And regardless of the fallout of that, what Laena gives Rhaenyra is incredibly important - Valyrian looking heirs. With at the very least a Jacaerys that looks like a Velaryon (because he is by blood this time), a large part of the Greens propaganda falls apart. Yes, she’s a woman, but she has a Valyrian heir with a husband she probably likes & takes an active role in her life, and the unwavering support of the Velaryons. PLUS with the dragon twins gone, that frees Jace up to marry literally anyone - like, say, Helaena! Or potentially, one of the storm sisters! And if anyone gets too cute with Rhaenyra, well, Laena has Vhagar!

Again, the wildcards here are Criston and Daemon. Daemon especially has no way back into the main Targaryen line because there are no Valyrian women for him to marry. I think that makes him much more erratic when Rhaenyra marries, because he can see his hopes of being “accepted” slipping away and he has no other option to turn to.

So….Rhaenyra is theoretically better off by the time her father dies. If she cares for Laena as a man the way she cared for Laena as a woman, she will have the full backing of House Velaryon, a legitimate heir who is free to make a great political match, a husband happy to back her claim, and once again, Vhagar on her side and Aemond defanged. The question is if this marriage stays happy or if it sours because Rhaenyra feels stifled, or Daemon/Cole does something particularly deranged about it at any point.

[kingcunny]

🔥 i need to know more about your alicent

absolutely! :)

women in westeros, specifically women and girls of high ranking houses do not own themselves, they are extensions of their house. their fathers political opportunities. otto is a very ambitious man and has groomed alicent into this exact role. she is an extension of house hightower, an extension of her father. she is his opportunity to rise through the ranks. and she envelops this role wholly. alicent is ambitious in her own right, but how much of that is herself and how much of that is otto? not even she could begin to separate those ideas.

so when otto suggests she marries the king. she jumps at the opportunity. maybe even sees it as a chance to finally gain some power for herself, to finally be out from under ottos control. to outrank him, in some way. even if she cant articulate that thought to even herself. or the desire behind it.

alicent was young when she came to court, viserys is 10 years older than her. she probably views him as another sort of father figure. projects her ideas of otto onto him. which helps, in a way. shes been her fathers pseudowife for so long, whats the difference in becoming this pseudofathers actual wife?

but she is still that culmination of all the grooming she was raised with. alicent wants power but does not believe she is capable of gaining that herself, she must find it through the men around her, her marriage, her children. thats how women gain power. so she marries the king, she gives him sons. her son will grow up to be king, and she will rule through him. THAT is how she will gain her power. and fulfill her duty to her father and house.

except then viserys fucks it all up. ruins her plans. even after giving him multiple sons, he refuses to fulfill his side of the unspoken pact and make them his heir. he does away with the rules and traditions that everyone has been following for hundreds of years, the traditions that got HIMSELF elected king. he keeps supporting rhaenyra as his heir. he refuses to even marry his daughter to her son. shes given him the one thing hes (supposedly) wanted all this time, the thing he killed his first wife trying to get. why wont he give her what she wants?

i think thats when all the projection and delusions of their marriage come crashing down. viserys isnt otto. he doesnt love her, he doesnt love their children. he has just been using her as a salve for his own fears of death. their marriage, their children, everything has been nothing but a plan B to him. a ‘just in case’ something happens to his preferred child, his chosen heir. all the years shes given him, all the pain shes put herself through for his benefit, is for nothing. she will gain nothing out of it. she will fail in her own goals and her duty to her family.

(to be fair, alicent also never loved viserys. not really. she was also using him for his position as king to try and get what she wants. but, from alicents pov, she does not owe him love. thats not part of her duty to her husband. her duty is to give him sons. in return for that however, he should at the very least love her and the children she gives him. see them as more than just spares.)

and, of course, alicent is ottos daughter. your children are extensions of yourself before they are their own people. they are your pawns to increase your standing. if they cant further your own goals then what good are they? if alicent fails its because her children have failed her. and now all they are are reminders of that failure, of time that couldve been better spent elsewhere. cause now shes stuck with them. and viserys.

but alicent cant take her anger out on viserys, hes still her husband and king, (and father in a way. just because you become aware of a delusion, doesnt mean it stops having control over you) so instead she takes it out on what she sees as the cause of all these problems - rhaenyra. viserys spoiled little daughter. his One True Love. the woman he would throw everyone else under a bus for.

this is why alicent suddenly turns on rhaenyra after they had been pretty close beforehand. theres not an actual date listed of when alicents mother dies, but i like thinking it happened before they all came to court. alicent knows how hard and lonely it is being a young girl without a mother, how dangerous it is being a young girl at court. and rhaenyras father is negligent and indulgent and distracted, in alicents eyes, wholly unfitted to be a father. so she reaches out to rhaenyra, to be that mother figure for her. to took after her and raise her. (and if she just happens to catch the kings attention at the same time. well two birds one stone.)

[knullanon]

doc ock brain rot rn

should I be working on requests? yes, I should. did I work on one and then forget to edit it after I got this idea from inspiration of an artwork? yes, yes I should.

btw this whole thing was inspired by that one drawing by @/valvilot of doc ock that was some good shit

anyways here it is. also this was done on my phone so pls excuse any spelling mistakes. 3,070 words too like damn 😳

otto octavious. he had everything: a good job, a place to live, a wife. he was living in peace, with no one to bother him. he was renowned as one of the best scientists that the kingdom had. he was the best of the best, they has told him. no one could outmatch him. they loved his work, always praising him. and then the metal arms came into play.

he originally was trying to use them to create his new project, one to make a power source for the whole area, and, if it became such a success, maybe for the whole kingdom. they would help him with issues that were plaguing the city, and he probably would've been regarded as a founder of New science... had he not lost his mind.

when the king discovered his more unethical experiments.

they told him he couldn't turn merfolk into humans, or that he couldn't bargain with their lives for the price: he couldn't harness the power of blazing fire in the water, they didn't need that, it would be useless, it would be too violent.

it all came to a standstill when the king had came to a realization that otto was only acting like this because of those metal arms: otto claimed he had full control over them, but even he didn't belive himself.

either way, the king gave him a choice: give up the arms, and go into a rehabilitation program to try and "help" him, or be exiled and kicked out of the kingdom.

it wasn't hard to choose. after all, the arms that he controlled, they were the only thing he needed to continue his experiments.

so, he took what he could carry and swam away. he found a nice cave, that had deep ingroves into it and large, open spaces.

just a place for him... and his tests.

Otto grabbed a vial, this one full of fish organs and skin, and poured it into the bowl. he reached for another vial, labeled about something kelp, and tossed it in.

while yes, he could use his time wisely to find new resources for his experiments, or creating better spells or ideas, but he was just too bored. nothing to do, nothing to see... no one to talk to.

otto grabbed the bowl, and without thinking, he chucked it against the wall, watching as it shattered into a million pieces and the contents of it scatter with it.

his metallic arms, the ones he made, were writhing in anger over boredom, and his tentacles were no different.

the clicking of his arms brought him back to reality. it motioned to the mess, almost as if it were saying "are you going to clean that?".

otto sighed, and glided to the entrance to his main lab, where a rack of sponges reisded. he picked one up, and was about to go and clean up his mess, when one of the arms felt something. he turned towards the large opening of the cave, and while he couldn't see the full entrance, he could almost feel as if there was something there. he waited for a moment, another moment, before finally deciding it was probably just a current, nothing to worry about.

until he heard a voice behind him.

"e-excuse me? are you dr. octavious?"

quickly turning around he looked left and right before looking straight in front of him, where he saw you, looking up at him with almost puppy dog eyes. you didnt look to be a threat: in fact, he was surprised you weren't ripped apart the minute you stepped foot into the cave.

"who's asking?" making sure to give a stern tone, as he did not want to seem unaware of his surroundings. it was a mistake of his to even let you in without knowing who you were, and he would not be making it again.

you looked down at your fins, and were almost moving them around to calm yourself. "I need to know if he can help me with... with-"

and all of the sudden otto knew exactly why you were there. it had happened more than once in the past, even before he had been exiled, and he was almost excited at the idea of gambling with you about your life: and yet, a part of him wanted to hold you there with him, to keep you safe and protected, not like those weird mutants on the surface.

"let me guess: you want to turn into a human?"

he leaned down towards you and grabbed your chin gently, and made you look at him. you couldn't have been an adult in his eyes: he hasn't seen someone as young as you for... well, ever.

you almost shook your head to get his hand off, and you finished your sentence.

"I want a good father."

otto almost physically reeled back out of surprise. he simply leaned back a little, and maybe widened his eyes (which you wouldn't have seen, with his glasses on). hw blinked once. twice. finally, he asked, "what?"

you almost looked ashamed, like you had just humiliated yourself in front of a parade. but you held out strong, and explained your request.

"my... my father and I, we haven't been on, well, let's just say we haven't been on good terms for a while now. he hasn't gotten better, and no matter how much I try, he doesn't seem to want a good relationship with me."

otto listened, and simultaneously moved back, to let you in, which you obliged easily.

you're eyes were tired, and your face was almost sunken in. "I've tried everything and I want to give up..." your eyes looked to him with hope, almost as if he was a miracle. "... but I heard that you can do the impossible, that you can do whatever comes to your mind, from your metallic arms, to turning us into land walkers."

otto waited for you to say anything else, and when he realized you were done, he asked, "whay do you want to happen to your father, then?"

you looked up at him, and said, "I want him to become a loving and doting father. I want a father who cares for me, no matter what."

otto looked down at you, and his arms were getting worse. they were agitated, anxious.

we must take them away from here, they will be safer with us!

they're going to be ours to keep, and ours to own!

they each had their own opinions, and otto was thinking of a way to respond, when he suddenly got a very, very good idea. one thay calmed his arms, and himself.

he straightened himself up, and motioned for you to move, which you did. he started to wade through the water, and you followed.

"well, it's certainly a new request, one I haven't heard: lets see what we can do, shall we?"

-------

"I explained everything to you, correct?" the doctor was still swimming around the cave system, and you were following right on his tail, or, tentacles, and listening to him speak.

you nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and you repeated the things he had explained to you earlier, while wading towards his "lab".

"the deal will be in the form of a contract, once I sign it, there will be no backing out, negotiating details, or disobeying the deal. if I fail to comply, I... um..."

dr. octavious finished your sentence, "... whatever you chose to give in return as an, "down payment", will be taken by me. I suggest you try and figure out what that payment would be before we get to my lab."

you looked around and thought of some things you could give in return for this arrangement. you had plenty of jewelry from your mother, all of it could be worth something. maybe he would want your money? your house?

you were so lost in thought, that when he spoke again, you were almost startled.

"I must warn you, the hallway to my... lab is not for sensitive eyes. if you ignore it, and everything that tries to slow you down you should be fine. "

you were confused, but you continued on. he disappeared into a corner, and you followed blindly.

the inside of this hallway was shorter than the others, only being about 6 meters long, and it should only take a few moments to swim through it. if only that was it.

hundreds, if not thousands, of eyes and small tentacles were stuck to the walls, and you gasped at seeing it. octavious turned around and calmly stated, "just go by them: you won't feel anything."

he continued on, and you noticed that the eyes almost tried to make themselves smaller and tinier, to hide themselves when he went near them.

when you realized you were getting left behind, you quickly tried to swim towards him only to yelp when something grabbed your tail. you looked down, only to see that one of the tentacles had grabbed your fins. you tried to almost kick out of it, or swim away, but it wasn't budging.

you were about to reach down to tear it off when more of them started to grab you. and now they were trying to bring you down, towards them. there were multiple eyes staring at you, and you could almost hear something from them.

"stay away..."

"don't sign..."

"HELP US..."

you cried out when they had grabbed you hand in your attempt to free yourself, and for a moment you felt like you were going to die just from the feel and look of these... things.

however, it all came to a stop when there was a shadow behind you. some of the eyes retreated and tried to hide themselves, but others were stubborn.

and when octavious grabbed them by a fistful and clenched his hand until his knuckles were almost white, was when they let go of you completly.

he grabbed you, and held you bridal style while he swam towards the end of the hallway. just as before, the eyes and tentacles hid away from him, and you were about to thank him when he opened the door to his lab, and dropped you in.

the first thing you noticed was that the walls were black and smoth, compared to the jagged and rough rock of the rest of the cave. there was actual furniture, including some tables, a chair, and even a weirdly decorated chandelier.

the doctor led you to one of the many seats at a seemingly large dining table, and pulled out a chair with one of his metallic arms. when you took a seat, he went to the one directly opposite of you and took a seat.

before you could ask anything, something started to form in each of his hands.

"as you know already, the deal is in the form of a contract, to agree you sign, no backouts, blah blah blah."

when it was done sparkling, his hands revealed two things: a stack of papers, and a quill. the papers had a front page which had 3 slots. when you looked closely, the first slot was meant for your name, the second slot was already filled in with octavious' name, and the last one you didnt know.

"as I had said earlier, you will also need something as a, say, down-payment. in case you decide that you don't like whay I've given you, it won't be a great loss on my part."

it clicked that the third slot on the paper was meant for your "down payment". you grabbed the quill, signed your name, and you were about to put down your ideas for the payment before he stopped you. "now now now, we have to work that out!" when you gave himam a look, he elaborated. "what if you decide to give me something useless? we must come to a standpoint on what we can both agree on."

you lowered the quill and your name disappeared from the paper.

"well, what would you want for something like this?"

bingo.

"well, for a spell like this, where I have to rearrange a person's whole life and personality, and maybe even their physical attributes? I would say your soul."

that caught you off guard. "my-my soul?"

octavious simply gave a little grin. "yes, your soul. don't worry: from your standpoint and the way you came to me, begging for a change? you won't have to worry about it. it will simply be something that will guarantee you won't drop the contract at a moments notice."

you swallowed, and looked back at the contract. "if you don't want to sign it, that's alright, but I won't be able to help you-"

"fine." you put "my soul" in the third slot, and you heard the metal arms clink do whir around, making their appearance after a few silent minutes. octavious was gleeful, as he smiled ear to ear and almost pushed the contract into you.

"there, now just sign your name and you should be good."

you hesitantly put the quill on the paper, and stopped.

would this really be worth it? would you sell your soul for a better father? but you had already written your name, and the contract was snatched away from you.

you saw him roll up the stack of papers into one single roll, and then shove it in his pocket.

you smiled and got up, turning towards the door, when a metal arm stopped you. you looked back towards octavious with a confused look. "doc-doctor?"

he smiled and dragged you across the table with the arm into a hug. you squealed as he brought you off the ground, and his grip tightened. he started to carry you away, while you tried to thrashing your tail out to get away.

"hey!" you yelped again when he made his way to one of the walls and it seemingly opened by itself, revealing a darkly lit room with a luscious bed and luxurious furniture, including a non-shattered mirror (a hard find, especially if you weren't buying), a small nightstand, and what seemed to be a walk in closet.

he almost glided over to the bed, and plopped you down, while you looked around the room. even if your father had the decency to save up his money instead of gambling it, he wouldn't even have enough to buy a tenth of what was in the room.

however, you looked back up at octavious, who was ever so joyful about your deal. you tried to get up from your sitting position, but you were gently pushed back down.

"I wouldn't worry about that at the moment, my dear. you just get comfortable until im done cleaning up, then we will talk."

Otto started to move away, and you shot up, trying to follow him.

"doctor octavious, I don't understand, I gave you my signature, can I go home now-"

you couldn't finish the sentence when one of those metal arms of his grabbed you, and tossed you towards the bed.

you slammed into the mattress, getting right back up to yell at him, when you saw the door closing.

"I want to go back home!" you cried and everything seemed to be so slow for you. your swimming, the way he turned to look at you, time itself almost was gone.

he gave you a small smile, one that would have given you comfort if it wasn't for the fact that you almost knew why he was smiling.

"you said it yourself, you wanted a father that loved you, cared for you."

the door was only open enough for you to look out at him, and you tried to push past him, but he didn't budge.

"yes, but back at my home. with my dad."

suddenly, you were shoved back by a metal arm. you landed on your back and you leaned up, only to see a glowing, red eye staring at you.

the claw was clicking on its own, agitated by something, and it was almost pretending to lunge at you. you crawled back, as it continued its small attack, if it could even be called that, and eventually it retreated back to its owner, leaving you on your elbows and back.

it was then you noticed the almost annoyed- disappointed?- look on octavious' face. he turned to you fully, and said, "I am your father, ______. I hope you come to accept that soon, so it will be easier for you."

you looked up at him, now in shock. he elaborated, pulling out that damned contract and shook it in the air with one of his flesh arms. "right here, you signed, and this is what was promised. I give you a father, a loving, doting, caring father, and you in return, give me your obedience: or, however you want to explain the soul part of our deal".

you had tears in your eyes, as you got up on your hands, still not understanding why. "that was a way to make sure I wouldn't drop the deal, so that I would listen, not-"

he handed the contract off to one of his metal arms, and while it seemingly put it somewhere outside of the room, the doctor simply gave you a reassuring look.

"yes: your soul was the down payment."

realization hit you like a rock, and you immediately got up and tried to swim to the door, but it shut with a loud bang.

"you lied to me!" you cried. "you said- you said it was to-" you pounded on the door, trying to find the slit to try and pry open the door yourself, only for it to blend in with the wall itself. you couldn't find it at all.

you heard the doctor laugh, before he yelled out, "don't worry, _____. once I'm done cleaning up some mistakes and messes, well figure this out. I'll make sure you know how to behave."

you tried to best to open the door, to no avail. you cried, screamed, sobbed, just in case he truly wasn't gone. or maybe you were panicking. you couldn't tell anymore.

however, soon enough, all that energy made you curl in on yourself and you fell asleep, wishing that you had just decided to never come to the cave.

---------

anyways yes I am working on requests rn I have an doc ock brain rot and idk how to fix it besides writing for him. might have another one posted idk.

[creativenicocorner]

I think the main reason I’m sharing this, outside of having very little self control, is because I’m tired of staring at it dlfkgjdlg I’ll get out of this writing slump you’ll see! 

In the meantime stare away haha 

A Terpsichore ch16 sneak peek!  //

Better a lynching now than yesterday, he thought calmly. 

The changeling wasn’t too surprised of his circumstances, his vision might be upside-down, but, in a morbid sort of inevitable way, everything was back to how it should be. 

Human doctors on with their marvelous lives.

Trolls lashing frustrations without much critical thinking skills or thought.

Changelings-

He blacked out. Ever so briefly. 

Distantly Walter Strickler felt as though he were laying on a couch. His head in Barbara’s lap. He realized he was smiling up at her, watching her as she relayed a joke. 

Something funny Anna had mentioned to Barbara over their last coffee date. Strickler tuned in, in time for Barbara to excitedly say, “And then Anna said ‘so we met over a cadaver - it was liver at first sight’!” and started to laugh and laugh and laugh.

It was music to Strickler’s ringing ears. 

At least until he popped back to consciousness with his ears still ringing. The scenery had changed, he was now deeper into Trollmarket. He remembered some of the stalls that Blinky mentioned when he first brought him to the Stronghold.

The fate of being a changeling piñata was all that seemed to await Strickler now. Or so he idly thought as more and more trolls clustered to his honorary pummeling parade - which by now he was feeling rather lackluster about. Sure earlier his heart was pumping to his ears with adrenaline. Feeling like one of those mothers that could lift full cars in order to save their child - which was himself in this scenario - he used to deeply want to save himself. But that go to fight or flight impulse was shot down faster than a migration of mallards during duck season.

It was a surreal experience to watch as more trolls joined the original three. Remarkable how trolls didn’t seem to take much convincing. He contemplated how many of them were truly like minded over their thoughts of his right to exist, or just tagging along out of morbid curiosity. Regardless it was like watching a forrest fire spread. 

Every so often Strickler would try to call out, “Jim! Trollhunter!” but didn’t quite put enough heart in it to be heard over the growing cajoling to the others of Trollmarket to join the growing mob. Using the damage sustained by their previous scuffle in the Stronghold as added reasoning to their march.  

The trolls wondered aloud how best to go about teaching this changeling a lesson. 

Strickler wondered what Nomura would have said to him, at the sight of such a spectacle. And then he remembered she was as good as dead in the Darklands. 

Strickler wondered what Otto would say, imagined his golden toothed smile, the chill in his pale blue eyes, and then remembered his betrayal. That Strickler was as good as dead to Otto. 

Then, oddly, Strickler found himself wondering what Barbara would say, or how she would treat his wounds. 

He found himself imagining they’d be in a quiet space. A living room, either his or hers, he didn’t care. As long as they were together, as long as it was quiet. With a soft breeze blowing through a half opened window. With fresh spring air that wasn’t unbearably full of pollen. The soft sound of gauze being unwrapped. An ever so tender, “Oh Walt.”

But then he remembered she’d never want to see him again, actively looked forward to not remembering him no less. And whatever level of looking after she’d do - would be from civic duty, and a cold ER room. 

The thought was merely a fruitless fantasy. 

His face grazed against a television pile, jostling, scraping him so blood would leak past his hairline. Strickler felt deserving of the sting.

A good thing about no longer being bound to the binding spell was that he didn’t have to worry Barbara feeling what he would feel. He didn’t have to take care of himself as intently. Though he had already thought about that already - didn’t he? Not that he was confident that he was going to walk away from this. His odds were, not something he wanted to think about. 

Soon he wasn’t thinking about anything. He blacked out again. 

While unconscious he was imagining a pond. The idea of which folded before him like a pop up book. The pond was full of floating flowers, primarily forget-me-nots, also known as a scorpion grass. 

In the pond was a scorpion, who had a flower stuck through its stinger, and was on the back of a most beautiful frog. 

“Oh dear.” Went Strickler, “This will end poorly.”

“Must it?” went another voice that was remarkably like his own.

“Of course.” Strickler eyed the stinger. “It is inevitable. Expected even. It’s all in character.”

“That’s a lot of metaphorical pressure to put on a scorpion. It’s only doing its best.”

“But it’ll sting her!” A pause. “The frog I mean.”

“Will it?”

“That’s just how the story goes.” said Strickler, resignation rich in his voice.

“The story isn’t over yet. And besides who says it is the same story?”

“Well isn’t it obvious?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking.” A pause. “What if the story changes? What if just this once, the scorpion didn’t sting the frog?”  

“But it’s in its nature. This won’t change.”

“I thought nature was all about change.”

“Yes, well.” Strickler searched for a way to still feel sorry for himself. He didn’t want to feel assured, be given belief of the option to become better. He wanted to sulk in his misery. “Some things stay fixed. There’s no helping this.”

“Some things adapt.” Another pause, this time it was longer. “Did you know there are poisonous frogs out there far deadlier than a scorpion? What if the frog was just as venomous as the scorpion? What if, right now, that scorpion is so far gone just from being on the frog’s back?”

“This isn’t helping. Besides I’m not projecting on the frog. I’m projecting on the scorpion.” Strickler hated how petulant he sounded. He just wanted to be alone. 

“Anyways. Scorpion or frog, takes adaptability to become like that, and to grow out of that.” 

Strickler made a non-comital sound. He couldn’t stop worrying about that stinger. Besides this voice was clearly not getting the program that now was the time to be miserable. Misery left very little room for optimism. In fact it hurt. Like an ingrown hair. 

“Well, enjoy feeling like a villain then.”

“I don’t feel like one, I am one.”

The voice didn’t respond, but Strickler felt confident it was shrugging at him. 

He didn’t like that.

That’s when Strickler came back to consciousness again. 

They, the trolls, were debating over getting a gaggle-tack or not, wondering if maybe they could hit him between changing. Strickler debated over his feelings on whether he would have preferred to die by the hands of Bular or Gunmar more.

And while the trolls displayed their misguided understanding of changeling physiology with..

“Maybe when we rip his stomach open stones will drop out.”

“Why do you suppose that?” “Well…aren’t they inside out? There was a toy that I found once in the sewers it was, uh, reversible. Wouldn’t that explain where the troll side goes when they look like this? And vise versa?”

Strickler wanted to laugh, but decided against it.

Instead he contemplated over the sheer irony of spending a lifetime being fearful of perishing under the supposed brilliant leadership of Gunmar, only to be beat up and dissected by some gaggle of buffoons. 

All that hard work. All that build up of pride. Only to meet an end unsanctimoniously by idiots.

Payback for my own pretentiousness, he gathered.   

Now he really wanted to laugh. Something hollow and cold. And Strickler started to, until something (a fist or another blasted video appliance - he wasn’t sure) crashed against his appendix and knocked the air out of him. 

It made Strickler think of Barbara, flirting with coffee and appendectomies. Maybe it was the blood rushing to his head - but Strickler welcomed being under Barbara’s knife. If anyone were to dissect him he wouldn’t mind it being her.  

It was then that Strickler noticed Krax’s face staring up at him from the crowd. There was a contorted expression on his face that Strickler found hard to read. Immensely so upside down. Was it fear? Was it anger? The foreboding gaze of seeing a potential future should Krax’s identity be found out. Was Krax contemplating rescuing him?

That’d be idiotic, thought Strickler, fondly. Though considering how they left their last conversation Strickler highly doubted it. 

He’s probably more worried I’d rat him out. Strickler frowned at the thought. 

Thus, with a reasonable amount of changeling honor, Strickler shook his head with a look that Strickler hoped would convey ‘don’t do anything stupid. I won’t expose you. Don’t expose yourself, not for me.’

Strickler wasn’t sure if Krax got the message. He wasn’t sure if the look on Krax’s face was something that resembled sadness. But he did catch Krax lowering his head, and walking away from the crowd. 

Strickler smiled at that.

//

Thank you so much for reading! ♡(´⌣`ʃƪ)

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Spider-Man Movie Villains

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Spider-Man, Spider-Man, he does whatever a spider can. And what do spiders seem really good at? Amassing huge quantities of hatred and animosity! True to the wily arachnids that inspired him, Spider-Man has quite the impressive gallery of foes, one that I might say rivals Batman as the greatest in comic book history with how colorful, crazy, and creative they are. Even villains derivative of one another, like Hobgoblin and Green Goblin or Carnage and Venom, manage to carve out unique niches that help make them fun and memorable.

And thankfully, these qualities usually translated pretty well to film! I’ve talked about how good Mysterio, Vulture, Kingpin, and Prowler are before, so now it’s time to cover the others all in one fell swoop! From the Raimi trilogy, we have Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, Harry Osborn, Sandman, and Eddie Brock/Venom; from the Andrew Garfield duology, we have Lizard, Electro, Rhino, and Harry Osborn again; and leftover from Into the Spider-Verse we have Olivia Octavius, Tombstone, Scorpion, and that film’s brief take on Green Goblin! Oh, and why not throw in Riot from Venom while we’re at it, because he sucks way too much to get his own Psycho Analysis.

Motivation/Goals: A lot of villains are motivated by the classic motivation: revenge. All of the Green Goblins manage to have this as a main part of their actions, making them remarkably consistent and very easy to discuss. The Norman of the Raimi films wants to take out his anger at being frozen out of his own company, and his son wants revenge for his death, while the Harry of the Garfield films wants his vengeance because Spider-Man wouldn’t help cure him of his otherwise incurable disaease that would kill him (a fact made worse because Spider-Man is his actual best friend, Peter Parker, who is coldly condemning his pal to death). The only one who doesn’t really fit is the Spider-Verse take on Green Goblin, and that’s more because he has extremely limited screentime and spends all of it fighting Peter and being scary as hell.

Eddie Brock/Venom is a very interesting case as both halves of the character are motivated by different reasons. The symbiote half is, of course, motivated by the fact that Peter has tried to rid himself of it via using a church bell to kill it. Eddie, on the other hand, has the most absolutely hilarious motivation ever: He wants Peter Parker to die because Peter exposed him for submitting fraudulent pictures to J. Jonah Jameson. Eddie literally breached journalistic ethics but apparently Peter’s to blame for exposing his literal, actual crime! And he prays to God for Peter to die! This version of Eddie is cartoonishly hilarious.Finally, we have Max Dillon, AKA Electro, who is lashing out at a world that did nothing but belittle and demean him, giving him a far more sympathetic motive for revenge.

Kurt Connors is an interesting halfway point between the Doc Ocks and the villains above, because he is not really evil and his whole transformation came about for altruistic scientific reasons, as he tested his serum on himself because they were going to test it out on the public without consent. While the serum drives him mad, he initially only goes after those who were going to use his formula with people as guinea pigs.

Interestingly, the two Doc Ocks contrast each other. While both of them are doing evil deeds for scientific reasons, Otto Octavius is being forced by his tentacles and genuinely wishes to make the world a better place otherwise. Olivia, on the other hand, is a gleeful sadist who doesn’t care who she hurts as long as she can get some sort of scientific knowledge from it.

Sandman is interesting case because his motivations are entirely sympathetic and despite being the man who killed Uncle Ben, it was entirely accidental and he always regretted it. He only ever wanted to get money to save his daughter. It’s really hard not to sympathize with a guy who turned to desperate measures because the American health care system sucks even in a universe where a dude dressed in a bright red suit swings around New York.

Then there are all the rest. Aleksei Systevich, AKA Rhino, is just a criminal, and has barely any screentime to establish a motivation beyond that. This is especially hilarious because the ads really hyped this guy up, only for him to get maybe five minutes of screentime, with most of it at the very end of the movie before the credits (we don’t even get to see his final battle). Tombstone and Scorpion are basically just lackeys for Kingpin, with little established beyond that. Scorpion almost shows up entirely out of nowhere, just popping in for the fight at Aunt May’s house and then the final battle. And then there’s Riot, who just wants to start a symbiote apocalypse on Earth.

Performance: Willem Dafoe, Alfred Molina, and Thomas Haden Church as Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, and Sandman in the Raimi trilogy are, in a word, iconic. Dafoe brings a gleeful, cackling hamminess to the Goblin that perfectly suits him and manages to steal every single with how delightfully, cartoonishly evil he is combined with some hilariously chummy moments with Spider-Man. Molina as Ock goes in the opposite direction of hamminess, where instead of making Octavius cartoonishly evil, he gives him this air of gravitas to the point where he somehow manages to make this villain with giant metal tentacles that are controlling his mind come off as sophisticated and serious as Hannibal Lecter. Church meanwhile just looks eerily perfect as Sandman, as if he were ripped straight from the comics and put onscreen, and then of course there’s how well he manages to sell the emotional moments of the character.

The Harrys are a rather mixed bag, sad to say. James Franco and Dennis DeHaan aren’t really bad actors, but they unfortunately have the problem of living in the shadow of the actor who played their dad (Franco) or being in a really awful movie with a terrible script (DeHaan). Franco at least makes up for this by being hilariously, cartoonishly evil to the extent of his dad in the third Raimi film, but DeHaan unfortunately falls rather flat. Topher Grace as Venom is a choice that seems baffling until you realize Raimi cast an actor like this on purpose because he hates Venom so much he didn’t want to give him any dignity.

Jamie Foxx as Electro seems odd at first, but I feel it’s actually a great casting choice, and despite how unbelievably stupid the script is, he’s actually able to do a fairly good job. If his character was in a better movie, he’d probably get a lot less flak (and he’ll be getting his chance soon enough, apparently). Overall, he’s the best part of the Garfield films. Rhys Ifans and Paul Giamatti as Lizard and Rhino are serviceable, but neither film they’re in really gives them much to work with. Giamatti at least gets to steal the show with his brief scenes by being an absolute ham, but Ifans is sadly a bit forgettable in his role (though not for lack of trying on his part).

Now onto the Spider-Verse ensemble! Considering how I gushed over her delightful performance as the Wicked Witch of Westview in WandaVision as well as the fact she is solely responsible for me resurrecting this series from its long hiatus, it should come as no shock at all that Kathryn Hahn as Olivia Octavius is just perfect. Controversial opinion, I know, might get some flak for this hot take. Jorma Taccone as Green Goblin, Joaquin Cosio as Scorpion, and Marvin Jones III as Tombstone all do well for what they’re given, but it’s clear most of the love among Kingpin’s henchmen was given to her (and Prowler, but he got his own review where I talked about how great he is).

Oh, right, Riot. I forgot about him. Riz Ahmed, who plays the human villain Carlton Drake I forgot to mention because he’s incredibly boring, is a really good (and sexy) actor. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to be quite as good and sexy as an actor like him should be in his dual role. In an interesting subversion of how things usually go, he ends up being rather bland compared to the hammy, bonkers hero. This was Tom Hardy’s show, and no one was stealing it from him.

Final Fate: The Raimi films were all made during a time when, if your name wasn’t Magneto and you were a superhero movie villain, you were dying, a trend I’m certainly glad is finally starting to die off. Thankfully, Green Goblin manages to stick around and posthumously influence Harry, so in his case it’s not so bad. Harry and Doc Ock both manage to overcome the darkness in their hearts at the end and sacrifice their lives to help save the day, while Eddie dies after becoming such a simp for the symbiote he leaps into it while Peter is blowing it up. With Sandman, Peter actually has a touching reconciliation with Sandman at the end, forgiving him for the death of Uncle Ben before Sandman dissolves into dust and floats away on the breeze. And no, this is his power, not Thanos’ snap reaching across time, space, and dimensions; Sandman actually gets out of these films alive.

The other villains actually get off easier, as most of them go to jail. From the Amazing Spider-Man films, DeHaan’s Goblin and Rhys Ifan’s Lizard both end up in prison, and it’s safe to assume that the villains of Spider-Verse are going to jail alongside Kingpin. Octavius was hit by a bus, sure, but considering how popular she ended up being it would be really dumb to have that actually kill her. With Electro and Rhino though, it’s really ambiguous, the former because he’s made of electricity and the way he was defeated means it is possible he survived, and the latter because we never actually see the outcome of his battle with Spider-Man. If the film they were in was actually good and warranted sequels, we may have found out what their true fates were, but at the very least Electro is moving over to the MCU alongside Molina’s Doc Ock.

Oh, right, forgot Riot again. He dies.

Best Scene/Best Quote: I’m combining these this time just to make it easier on me, because in at least in a couple cases the two are the same.

Green Goblin has a lot to choose from, to the point where it’s easy to cop out and just say every scene he’s in is amazing. I’ve always been fond of his chummy chat with Spider-Man on the rooftop, or the scene where he terrifies Aunt May, or the scene where he attacks the parade and vaporizes the board of directors with pumpkin bombs.

Dock Ock is easy: the train battle. This might be one of the best action scenes in any superhero movie ever, and since he’s the villain in it, it almost goes without saying..There’s a reason this scene is singled out so often.

Eddie Brock and DeHaan Goblin actually have their best scenes also be their best lines. Eddie praying for God to kill Peter Parker and DeHaan!Harry screaming “YOU’RE A FRAUD, SPIDER-MAN!” after Spidey refuses to give him a life-saving blood transfusion are just so absolutely hilarious and memorable that you can’t hate them.

Aside from the powerful forgiveness moment at the film’s end, I think it’s really indisputable that the best scene from Sandman, and perhaps the Raimi trilogy as a whole, is the scene of Sandman’s creation. Words really can’t do it justice, so just watch:

Electro’s best moment isn’t even actually part of the movie, unless you want to count his rendition of “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” No, his is from a Tumblr post, proving definitively that Electro’s power can not be contained.

For Olivia, I’d say either of the reveals for her are great. You can go with the twist that she’s the Doc Ock of Miles’ universe, or the twist that she might have fucked Aunt May. Either way, you can’t really go wrong.

The rest of the villains… yeah, I’ve got nothing. At least with Rhino you can say his entire time on screen was fun, but the rest? Nope. They’re kind of just there.

Final Thoughts & Score:

Green Goblin

Where to begin with this guy? He is everything I look for in a great villain: he’s hammy and cartoonish, he can be terrifying and threatening when he wants to be, he has a ridiculous yet memorable costume, every word out of his mouth is hilarious and memorable, and he’s played by an amazing actor. It’s hard to dispute that Doc Ock is the best villain in Raimi’s trilogy, but Goblin is definitely the most fun. If you thought he’d get less than a 10/10, you thought wrong.

Doctor Octopus

Aside from Green Goblin, Doc Ock is Spidey’s most iconic and memorable foe, nd this adaptation of him does not disappoint. By making him a more tragic and somewhat anti-villainous figure and putting him in the hands of someone as awesome and talented as Alfred Molina, they managed to make such a cartoonish villain retain that comic book silliness while still being a legitimately imposing antagonist. I suppose it helps that a director who knows how to balance silly and serous like Raimi helps. It’s absolutely not a shock that the MCU wants to bring Molina back, because really, I can’t see anyone making the dubious doctor nearly as cool as the 10/10 performance Molina gave.

Harry Osborn

Franco’s Harry has an interesting arc, but one that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense under scrutiny. Frankly, his descent into villain is handled well but when he actually gets to be a villain in the third film, things fall apart.. But at any rate, he gets to be cartoonishly hilarious while he pettily ruins Peter’s life, so I think a 3/10 is warranted just for how goofy he is.

Eddie Brock/Venom

For the longest time, I hated Eddie Brock, but loved the Venom symbiote for its fantastic design… A design hampered by the fact Topher Grace keeps sticking his face through the symbiote and talking in his normal voice. But then one day I remembered Eddie literally prays to God for Peter Parker to die, and I realize that as crappy as this version of Venom is, he’s undoubtedly hilarious. A 3/10 mainly because of how hilariously bad he is, though the design of the symbiote is unironically great. Shame Grace kept sticking his face through and that Raimi hates the character.

Sandman

Sandman is a villain who deserved a better movie. Sure, Spider-Man 3 is fun and funny, but a character with this much depth and emotional weight deserved a film of the caliber of Spider-Man 2. At any rate, he adds a bit of class and dignity to the proceedings, and Thomas Haden Church really nails it. He’s a 9/10 for sure.

Lizard

Lizard is just a very boring villain, which is a shame because Lizard is not a boring villain in the comics and other media like the cartoons. I don’t really know if he was the best choice for Spider-Man’s first outing; I’ll at least give him that he’s a more inspired choice than doing the Green Goblin again, but that doesn’t score him higher than a 4/10. As boring as he ends up being, that library fight was pretty cool and had a great Stan Lee cameo, so I can’t say he’s the bottom of the barrel.

Electro

Electro is a villain who desperately deserved a better movie. While his backstory as a nerdy fanboy who got kicked around by the world is nothing new, or fresh, or original, Jamie Foxx manages to make the character work fairly well even though almost everything around him is unbelievably stupid. The fact he managed to make “Don’t you know? I’m Electro” sound cool and badass is a testament to his skill, and thankfully he’s coming back in the MCU in some way, so I guess Electro’s power can not be contained to a single movie. Still, this iteration only manages to get to a 6/10, because while all the elements of greatness are there, he’s hampered by the abysmal writing.

Rhino

Paul Giamatti certainly looks like he’s having a blast here. His attitude is almost infectious, but alas, his time is too brief to bring any great joy, and his jarring appearance out of nowhere at the end of the film certainly do him no favors. Still, Giamatti keeps Rhino from sinking any lower than a 5/10.

Harry Osborn

This Harry is just a joke. His arc makes no sense, his actions are unbelievable, and he ends up looking like a really poor Warwick Davis Leprechaun cosplayer. The only thing of note about him is that he’s a Harry who becomes the Green Goblin before his father, something that doesn’t happen very often, and that’s not enough to score this loser higher than a 2/10. Not even killing Gwen Stacy makes him any more impressive, and that’s a real shame.

Olivia Octavius

Olivia Octavius is widely beloved by just about everyone who sees the film.. myself included. This is just a really fun, clever twist on Doctor Octopus, and it’s the sort of character you really hope gets a Harley Quinn-level break into becoming an iconic character across multiple forms of media. Kathryn Hahn’s fun performance and the wonderful design and fight sequences really make Olivia a 9/10.

Tombstone

Tombstone is a villain you might actually forget is in the movie, which is a damn shame. He’s an albino black man, a badass bodyguard, and has a striking design, but he gets a single line of dialogue and is tasked with bodyguarding a man who not only has cyborgs under his employ, but who murdered Spider-Man with his bare hands. Tombstone ultimately feels really superfluous, which is a shame because around the same time Into the Spider-Verse came out he had a very memorable and well-liked appearance in the Spider-Man video game. It’s a real shame but I gotta give this version of Tombstone a 2/10.

Scorpion

Scorpion has a lot of problems of Tombstone above, but he makes up for a lot of his flaws by having a really cool and striking design. Does it really make him a great villain? No. He’s not particularly well-characterized and he’s really just there to look cool and give Olivia backup. He’s a 4/10 at best, saved from being lower only by his awesome look. Looking cool really can get you far in some cases.

Green Goblin

Out of all the really minor villains in Spider-Verse, this version of Norman might be the best. His role is tiny, only appearing during the scene where the Peter Parker of Miles’ universe gets killed, but his battle with Spider-Man is what sets the entire plot in motion. His cool and terrifying design definitely help make him stand out enough to earn at least a 6/10.

Riot & Carlton Drake

Look, there’s a reason I kept forgetting these guys. They’re not memorable in the slightest. Venom may be a fantastic work of art, but that’s because Tom Hardy kills it in his dual role as Eddie Brock and the Venom symbiote. Drake is just a boring corporate villain, the kind I hate talking about and the kind I’d only ever even bother mentioning in a review like this. And Riot is just a generic Big Gray CGI Monster for the hero to have a final battle with. Neither of these two are particularly interesting, and neither deserves more than a 2/10.

That’s it, right? There can’t be any more villains, I must have covered them all. Well, not quite. There’s one more character who is most certainly an antagonist and who I really, really want to talk about. And you’re absolutely not going to believe who it is.

You ready?

Psycho Analysis: Emo Peter

“Now wait,” you may be asking, “Emo Peter? Really? How does he count as a villain?” Well, as Schafrillas pointed out in his video on Spider-Man 3, Emo Peter is actually the antagonist for much of the second act. Peter, influenced by the symbiote, becomes a raging jackass and hurts and alienates everyone around him by being a colossal douchebag, not to mention how violent he gets as Spider-Man. This is very much an extreme case of the hero’s greatest enemy being themselves, because literally, Peter’s enemy in the chunk of the movie with Emo Peter is his own overinflated ego

Motivation/Goals: I mean, at the end of the day, it’s still Peter. He still wants to do the typical Peter Parker stuff, he’s just a jackass while he does it.

Performance: It’s Tobey Maguire busting loose and getting to act like an absolute doofus. There is literally nothing about this that isn’t amazing and I’m sorry if you can’t see it.

Final Fate: Peter eventually comes to realize that maybe the symbiote making him act like an egomaniacal tool is not a good thing, and so rebels against it, ultimately leading him to the roof of a church where Eddie Brock is praying for him to die and, well, the rest is history.

Best Scene:

Best Dance Move:

Final Thoughts & Score: Emo Peter has gotten a bad reputation over the years, but Schafrillas’ video really made me rethink why. As he puts it, Emo Peter comes off not as someone cool, but as what a loser thinks a cool person would be (which makes him still a loser). It seems fairly likely that the audience isn’t supposed to be rooting for Emo Peter or finding him cool, but instead finding him insufferable, ridiculous, and funny. We’re supposed to be laughing at Peter’s egomania, at his absurd and hammy showboating, not cheering him on and desiring to emulate him.

And that ultimately makes it more satisfying when Peter overcomes his ego and decides to rid himself of the symbiote. It might seem like I’m giving Spider-Man 3 a lot of credit here, but even Sam Raimi half-assing a movie wouldn’t leave things completely devoid of underlying brilliance. Emo Peter isn’t a villain in the sense that he’s some superpowered antagonist, he’s a physical representation of the negative impacts of fame and ego on Peter. This is Peter letting go of what makes him a hero and just reveling in being an absolute jerkwad to everyone around him.

I love the memes as much as everyone else of course, but Emo Peter is also a pretty clever symbolic foe. But even though I’m giving him an 8/10, we all know the real reason why he’s scoring so high:

Ok, but that’s it now, right? No more Spider-Man villains? Well, maybe for now. But don’t forget:

There’s gonna be Carnage.

[theroseandcrown]

The Rose & Crown: Chapter Nineteen (Part Two)

Rating: M Chapters: 19/24

Summary: Following a lead, the Doctor returns to Otto’s shop only to discover that his companion is nowhere to be found.

Read this story on another platform: Archive of Our Own Fan Fiction WattPad

Making his way through the small labyrinth of metal cages and dark corridors, he finally reached the rear entrance of Otto’s shop. He opened the door expecting to see his companion and her reptilian babysitter exactly where he had left them but discovered the shop to be entirely vacant of any life forms. “Clara?” he called, hoping her shortened stature was hiding somewhere amongst the shelves. When there was no answer, he instantly became concerned. Searching every square inch of the room, she was nowhere to be seen. Great panic began to rise inside of him. He scolded his stupidity for not having listened to his previous instincts. Reaching the door, he flung it open and stepped outside into the sea of people. “Clara?!” he called again, ignoring the stares in his direction from the strange people passing by. He circled his position and frantically scanned the area for any sign of her. “Clara!” he screamed, now terribly frightened of what may have become of her. His voice was drowned out by the howl of chatter amongst the crowd. His mind began to torment itself with horrific thoughts of her capture and probable torture by their enemies. He shook the images from his mind attempting to remain on the positive side that perhaps she had just become lost somewhere nearby. He tried to remind himself of the fact they had been separated many times before and always found each other again. But somehow, this time felt different. Their days spent parading around as partners in crime had evolved into something much more meaningful to him. The gaps left open by their independent vulnerabilities were inherently filled by each other’s strengths. A dependency he had greatly become accustomed to. Without it, he felt as though he’d been left to bleed out by her absence.

As he desperately scanned each passing face, a familiar sound heard from within the orchestra of foreign voices caused him to lock onto it hoping it would lead him to its source. A sound so describable he could pick it out of any crowd. Her laughter. Following her voice across the path, he finally saw her seated across from three large male creatures. He recognized one of them as the Silurian from Otto’s shop. The lot of them were laughing hysterically amongst each other while engaged in whatever humorous conversation had kept their attention. The Doctor’s brows furrowed as he approached them. The ground below their feet had been replaced by a long row of metal grating. A fine mist-like substance expelling from the small openings engulfed them in a glistening cloud of fog. Reaching her side, he glared down at her with great displeasure. “Time to go,” he stated with hostility.

Glancing towards the old man, she burst with laughter at the sight of his frowning face. The Doctor expelled an irritated sigh and waited for her to get it all out of her system. Once composed, she lifted a small silver trinket and held it in front of her. “Look, Doctor. They’ve made me a Royal member of the pack.”

“Yes, I see,” he eyed her, taking notice of the significant change in her demeanour. “Forgive me for intruding on your commencement ceremony, Your Majesty. But we still have a mission to complete.”

She returned her attention to the others and pouted playfully. “Sorry boys, granddad has come to spoil the fun.” A sudden uproar of jeers initiated as they booed and hissed his presence.

The Doctor gritted his teeth and attempted to keep his fury from boiling over. Glancing to Clara, he could sense something was undoubtedly amiss about her. The irreversible illness continuing to spread throughout her mind no longer seemed to be the only thing in control of her behaviour. He noticed her brow was damp but it was not being caused by sweat. He inquisitively reached out and allowed the mist to collect on his skin. Rubbing his fingers together, he analysed the vapour’s consistency and quickly identified the foreign substance. Returning his attention to his companion’s flushed face, his brow raised suspiciously. “Clara, are you intoxicated?” he accused her.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the old man’s ridiculous question. “Don’t be stupid. You honestly think I’d go around accepting drinks from strange aliens?” She glanced towards them. “No offence.”

“Oh? And what exactly do you think you’ve been sitting in all this time, a sauna?” he asked angrily, observing as the answer to his question appeared to be lost within her insensible stupor. He sighed with frustration and rolled his eyes at her ignorance. Gently wiping her brow with his fingers, he placed his hand in front of her face. “You see this? This is euphoric biomist, an airborne concoction of highly concentrated amounts of ethanol and psychedelic amphetamines. You’ve been breathing in large quantities of it since the moment you sat down. You might as well be swimming in it.”

“I thought it felt a bit damp out here,” she responded wittily, joining the others in uncontrollable snickering.

“Why Clara Oswald, you are hilarious,” he noted with heated sarcasm. Having had enough of the conversation, and feeling rather irate towards his heavily pregnant companion’s inebriated condition, he reached over and took her by the arm to pull her up. “Come on. We’re leaving,” he demanded.

The males stood aggressively at the scene developing around them. “Is this old man disturbing you?” the smaller one asked of their new female pack member.

“I dunno,” Clara raised her brow at the question and turned towards the Doctor. “Are you?”

“No,” he insisted irritably.

The largest of the three approached the intruder, towering over him with intimidating closeness. “She stays.”

The Doctor glared at the giant beast blocking his path. “Ah, you must be the boss one. I can tell, you’re the ugliest.” The creature frowned at the insult and growled at the man. The Doctor stepped closer, throwing all concerns for his safety aside to stand his ground against the leader of the pack. “The girl belongs to me,” he insisted, unwilling to back down from the aggression forming between them.

“Do I?” she asked, starting to feel the strange combination of confusion and disorientation taking its toll on her.

“Yes, you do,” he replied, then glanced towards the tower of ugly standing before him. “I didn’t come here to start a fight with you. But if that is what it’s going to take, just know that I am prepared to fight fiercely for her. You might win by strength alone, but not before you’re arrested for disturbing the peace. Unless, of course, you’re looking to bring that kind of attention to yourself.” He peered over the beast’s shoulder to where a small troupe of the Shade were busy patrolling the streets. The first actual sight of their presence since they first arrived. The Doctor realized he was gambling with his fate by threatening to involve the army in their squabble. The creature could just as easily call his bluff and allow them to be summoned. Of the two of them, one was bound to be more prized over the other. It all came down to which one of them was better equipped at avoiding capture.

The beast turned his head towards the direction of the soldiers who were slowly but surely making their way closer, then returned his attention to the old man. The Doctor couldn’t help but wonder if the small rodent spinning its wheel inside the brute’s head was working overtime during all of this unnecessary silence. After a moment, the beast reluctantly conceded their stand-off with each other and moved aside. The Doctor seized the opportunity of verbal victory to take Clara’s hand and lead her away in a hurry before the soldiers reached them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that before,” she declared, impressed by the way he had stood up to the others despite being out massed in nearly every way. His grip on her hand tightened as he continued to lead them farther away from the group. As he pulled her, she started to feel an odd sensation in her body as if she were floating behind him. The shades of colour contained within every thread of fabric had become exceptionally vibrant. “Doctor?” she called to him, starting to realize he may have been right about the mist. He chose to ignore her, remaining silent as he concentrated on keeping her within his grasp. “Doctor,” she called again, taking notice of his quiet discontent. “Are you cross with me?”

“Cross?” he called back to her bitterly. “I’m gone for five minutes and you can barely even walk!”

She scowled at his judgemental accusation. “Another five and you might’ve sold me to the highest bidder!” she bit back.

“Yes, well, maybe I should have! Probably would’ve gotten a nice throw rug out of it just for the trouble,” he yelled. “I told you not to wander off! You never listen!”

“I was perfectly fine! I had everything under control, they weren’t going to hurt me!” she assured him.

“Oh? Did they tell you that before or after they planned on eating you for dinner?”

Clara let out an aggravated sigh behind gritted teeth, choosing not to voice her opinion of his ridiculous allegation. The constant battle to prove she could be trusted on her own was a continuously gruelling experience. The only thing he seemed to trust her with was protecting the part of him that was growing inside of her. “Where are we going?” she changed the subject.

“Following a lead. While you were off gallivanting with your new best friends, one of us actually had a job to do,” he replied, holding back his anger as they headed towards their next destination.

“Are you jealous?” she laughed, scoffing at his sour disposition.

“No,” he told her, finally spotting what he had been searching for. Just ahead of them, he discovered an unoccupied terminal and quickly pulled her towards it.

“Admit it! You’re jealous,” she accused him.

“No. But if you’d like, I could always send you back,” he responded spitefully. Reaching the terminal, he retrieved the sonic from his breast pocket and pointed it towards the screen. “Now be quiet, I need to concentrate.” He began scanning the user interface and worked hurriedly to decrypt the security systems as Clara leaned against the wall to glower beside him. The feel of her eyes burning a hole into the side of his face was even more distracting than if she had been speaking. “If you’re up for feeling useful, don’t hesitate to keep a lookout,” he suggested, knowing full well he was treading dangerously into the female forbidden zone. The heat emanating off her gaze could have melted entire ice caps.

She irritably crossed her arms and moved away from the wall to peer around the corner. “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re angry,” she admitted as a small smile forced its way to her lips.

“You should see me when I’m furious. Absolutely adorable,” he replied, working as fast as he could to break through their defences.

Clara did her best to scan the stampede of passing people for potential threats, glancing only once over her shoulder to watch as the father of her child worked intently on the computer in front of him. She smiled and allowed her gaze to drift towards her middle, reminding herself how much she truly loved the infuriating man who had made a mother of her. Lifting her attention to the crowd, her smile began to fade as her eyes focused upon the familiar symbol of a red raven parting its way through the crowd. “Doctor,” she called to him.

“Not yet,” he tried to quiet her, having made it passed the first barrier of protected information.

The raven began to multiply in quantity, spreading like a virus to the other soldiers now emerging from the masses. She observed intently as the soldiers drew closer to their location, feeling very unsure how much time they had remaining before they were inevitably discovered. “Doctor, someone’s coming.”

“I’m nearly there,” he replied, unwilling to abandon his work.

One of the soldiers stopped in the crowd and brought a hand to his ear as if receiving orders. Looking around, his attention was pulled towards their location. She tried to act as inconspicuous as possible but feared it was already too late. “Doctor, please hurry.”

“Almost…”

She watched in fear as the soldier signalled to the others and pointed in the direction of the terminal. The small group began to cut through the crowd like a pride of lions on the hunt until they were but a few meters away. “Doctor!” she cried.

“Got it!” he called just in time, witnessing as a line of numbers and decimals flashed upon the screen. “So, that’s where you’ve been hiding,” he said to himself. Just then, an alarm began to sound throughout the station causing the pair of them to freeze where they stood.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Clara called to him, hoping the alert was just a coincidence.

“Around me, it’s usually an inevitability,” he admitted.

“Stop! Thief!” a voice announced nearby. Startled, the Doctor searched for the source, his gaze meeting the face of his old friend. Great fear tore through him as they locked eyes with each other. The robotic man glared at the Time Lord, then raised his arm and pointed off into the distance in the opposite direction. “Come quickly, he’s getting away!” he cried, directing as many of the soldiers as he could towards an unsuspecting buyer. The soldiers immediately gathered themselves and quickly headed away from the terminal.

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief and nodded in appreciation towards his friend. “Time to leave!” he declared, taking her hand and pulling her towards the direction of the TARDIS.

******************** “What are you looking for?” Clara asked, watching from a safe distance on the lower platform as objects were flung like projectiles from their place on the shelf.

“Sobriety capsule. You never know when you’re going to need one. There’s no telling how your body has been reacting to all of the alien toxins coursing through your veins,” he answered, digging through a drawer.

“You touched it too. Why haven’t you been experiencing any side effects?” she pointed out.

“I have, but I’m much more resilient to them than you.” His hands rustled around the inside of the drawer until they came upon a familiar object. “Ah, there you are,” he said, pulling a small syringe from its resting place and holding it up to the light. “This should do the trick. Might make you a bit sleepy. But first, we’ll have to get you out of those contaminated clothes.” He made his way down the stairs towards her with the syringe in hand.

A provocative smile spread across her lips as she began undressing in front of him. He uncomfortably cleared his throat and glanced away as she stripped down to nothing. Tossing her undergarments aside, she slowly approached him. The fire within her burned even brighter as the elixir’s potency grew in strength. Each wave of passionate emotion inside of her felt as if it were pouring out of every extremity. Reaching him, she raised her hand and allowed her fingers to lightly trace down his arm. She glanced towards his hand and gently pulled the syringe from his grasp, carefully setting it on the console beside them.

“Clara, what are you doing?” he asked, raising his brow.

“Nothing we haven’t done before.” She smiled and brought her hands to his chest to experience her skin’s increased sensitivity to touch.

“I’m not doing this with you right now. Not while you’re like this,” he insisted, though remained entranced by her closeness.

“What’s the matter? Is the big bad Time Lord afraid of a little adventure?” she asked coyly, taking his hand in hers to place it tenderly upon her cheek. The feel of his skin on hers caused her body to tremble with euphoria. A small gasp escaped her at the sensation, feeling every beat of her heart as it quickened in rhythm.

“You’re not yourself,” he noted, trying to take control of the situation.

“What’s wrong with that?” she raised her brow seductively.

“Your pupils are dilated. Your pulse is elevated. I’d say there’s a lot wrong with that.”

“Maybe it isn’t the mist,” she spoke softly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss upon his neck.

“Don’t,” he stopped her, watching as she leaned away to gaze at him with a painfully wounded expression.

“Don’t you want me, Doctor?”

He sighed and gently traced the tips of his fingers over the surface of her cheek as his eyes peered deeply into hers. “You know I do.”

“Then take what is rightfully yours,” she whispered, gently guiding him by his jacket towards the console.

“Clara,” he spoke softly, trying to resist the power she had over his love for her. Her back flushed against the machine, she pulled his body against hers. He braced himself on either side of her, being careful not to harm the child pressed between them. The heat emitting off of her penetrated every layer of cloth as her temperature began to rise from their intimate embrace. He gasped at the sensation of her hands moving down his chest and stomach, wanting so badly to feel her skin against his. He rested his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, gripping the console tightly in an attempt to fight his impulses. Resisting the temptation to feel himself inside of her was unbearable. Everything he was experiencing at that moment was pure torture, but to pursue her any further would be taking advantage of her vulnerable state of mind. As much as he yearned for her affection, he knew the longer she endured the effects of the drug the more damage was being done to her and the baby. He inhaled a deep breath and leaned away to see her face. Taking her cheek in the palm of his hand, he gazed apologetically into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” she replied with concern. “For what?”

“For this,” he answered, having already retrieved the syringe while she was distracted and quickly stuck it into the side of her neck.

“Ow!” she cried angrily, holding her affliction with care. “What was that fo-?!” she yelled before her legs gave out and she began to fall to the side.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, catching her in his arms. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“Doctor? What did you give me?” she managed to ask, feeling betrayed by his actions.

“A mild sedative,” he assured her.

“Mild?”

“I, uh, may have underestimated the dosage a bit,” he admitted, struggling to lift her into his arms. Glancing down at her face, her eyes began to close as she drifted into a deep slumber. “Oh, Clara,” he sighed sincerely. “You truly are my impossible girl.” Holding her tightly, he carried her out of the room to rest.

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

The Doctor was busy at the view-screen when a shuffling noise heard from behind him caught his attention. Turning around, he noticed the familiar presence of his companion making her way into the heart of the room wearing one of his buttoned shirts. Though her hair was a disaster and her make-up worn off, she still looked as beautiful as she always had. “Ah, there she is. Back to the land of the living, are we?” he greeted her, smiling in her direction. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a coma patient, no thanks to you,” she scowled as she approached him. “You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she groaned, leaning her elbow on the console to hold her aching forehead in her palm.

Treading lightly, he ran his hand along the edge of the machine until he was standing beside her. He cleared his throat and inconspicuously attempted to define the status of their current understanding of one another. “Are you cross with me?” he asked, now feeling her despondence towards him electrifying the air.

“More than a little,” she replied from under her breath.

“Why?”

“Why?” she glared up at him angrily. “Because you drugged me, you idiot! That’s why!”

“To be fair, I un-drugged you then drugged you again,” he explained, slowly retreating in the off-chance he was in danger of being hit by verbal shrapnel.

“Sorry, how is that better?” she asked, eyeing him fiercely.

“Well, you looked like you could have used the rest.”

She approached him until she found herself standing as close to him as her body would allow it. “The next time you feel the urge to stab someone in the neck, make sure they’re not within swinging distance of your face.”

“Noted,” he conceded, glancing at his small but deadly counterpart.

Backing off, she headed to the view-screen to observe what he had been working on during her exceptionally long nap. “Did you find what you were looking for then?”

“It would appear so,” he answered, cautiously heading to her side.

“And?”

“Well,” he sighed, “there’s good news and bad.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She rolled her eyes. “Well? Go on then.”

Bringing the screen to her, he began tapping on its surface until it stopped at a section of charted space. “The good news is I was able to trace the transmission signal to the Justica prison system at the edge of the Mutter’s Spiral.” He zoomed in and pointed towards a series of planets surrounding three separate suns. “The bad news is we won’t be able to come within two light-years of the system’s auto-beacons without being detected. And even if we somehow managed to get passed them, the entire cluster of planets is protected by a deflection barrier ten billion miles wide.”

“Sounds like someone’s keen on their privacy. So, how do we get in then?”

“We don’t. Not unless you’ve always wanted to know what three meals a day behind bars felt like.”

“Not exactly the spot I would have chosen to have a baby. But around you, anything is possible,” she teased, allowing a small smile to pass along her face as she looked to him.

“The only way to land on one of these six planets is if we are invited in,” he explained.

“Invited? What, like a mailing list or something?”

“Or something,” he answered, moving away from her.

“You’re doing the face again,” she noted, observing the way he was trying to avoid being read by her. “Should I be worried?”

“Well, I have a plan,” he confessed, running his hands down his face, then turned around to confront her. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

[lucastheunlucky]

iridescence. Otto&Luke

Location: Otto’s place Time/Date: Late night, about weekend of the 15th Summary: Luke fills Otto in on things. @gravityfissure

The water was warm enough to pinken the tips of his ears. Steam swirled when it struck the air and filled the room with its sweet scents. Lucas hadn’t settled into a tub in such a long time. He’s forgotten how it even felt to relax in such a way. His entire forearm of his left arm was draped over the edge of the tub, wrapped up in plastic, so it didn’t get wet, and layers of thick bandages under it gave it a bulky shape. His hair was buzzed short right now, but he did have a fabric cap on to keep it dry. For a second, he just appreciatively looked at the other. Taking in the entire visual intensely, like a blink, could change the scene and put it back to the hell he’s been living. Exhaustion bit at his heels in threat to put him asleep, making him pliable right now. He was thankful this was enough. Luke wasn’t expecting to define anything, but he couldn’t deny that it was nice for a change, to not lie about what he was. To dance around details, and explain with lies stacked with fake smiles. He could be honest most of the time, and he could learn so much from Otto that it was a bit mesmerizing. “Why are you so distractingly beautiful,” Luke hummed in tease, closing his eyes with a faint, small smile. “Can’t give an injured guy a break. Making my heart flutter too fast-- don’t kill me.” Probably too soon for that joke, but Luke said it anyway. 

A bath hadn’t been what Otto had been expecting to be asked for, but it was hardly the strangest request to be made. It was strange, this pattern of habits and things he found himself acquiescing to without a second thought whenever Lucas asked them of him. But the last thing he’d been anticipating when he opened the door was the state the other man turned up in; worn and weary, barely able to stand straight under the weight of his world crashing down on his shoulders. It stirred an immediate sense of discord and worry in his stomach, an unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation that he wasn’t all that accustomed to feeling around anyone. He wanted to ask what had happened, but common sense and general decency had him holding his tongue as he ushered Lucas in. Otto had gotten him to sit while he ran a bath; laden with bubbles and a few tinctures of lavender oil to help him relax - it seemed he needed all the help he could get in that department right now. Only then did he let Luke get in, while he perched on a small brick alcove his mildly amused expression thinly veiling the underlying concern that warbled about in his mind. Narratives constructing upon narratives to try and explain to himself what had done this much harm to a man so undeserving of such harm. It stoked a low-boiling anger, the intent and wish to see whoever was responsible for this punished to the deepest depths of hell and then some. “Rich coming from you good-lookin’,” Otto huffed in amusement leaning on the edge of the tub and flicking some bubbles in Lucas’ direction.

"Heyyy, come on," he pouted, offering up a hurt puppy expression that was god-tier in level as the bubbles dotted his cheeks and landed on his nose. Luke was exceptionally good at masking his pain with playfulness. Otto feeding into it was a relief in opposition to everyone else asking him a hundred times if he was okay when he so very clearly wasn't. He shifted up, pulling his shoulders from the water with a lap of scented water and leaned over where if he went a little more, he could almost lay his head in his lap if he wanted. "Just-- mmm," he displayed a tired but amused face for Otto to deal with, bubbles and all. Clearly content with letting them pop one at a time as they were exposed to the air of the room. "Thanks. For letting me escape a bit. Didn't want to put that on you-- since we've really not talked about things seriously between us. It seemed a lot to bring to your door. My issues, that is."

“Nope,” he answered, popping the p of the word for deliberate effect, Luke might’ve looked extremely cute right now but it didn’t detract from the current worry over his well-being. Otto had his questions, but he was versed in navigating people’s trauma well enough to know that it was a matter of giving them the space to open up in their own time. That was when you could delve in with the fine tooth comb and wheedle out the finer details. Still, he smiled fondly at Luke reaching out to lightly poke his nose “hey now don’t get water all over my floor,” he tsked as Luke leaned over the edge of the tub. He was quiet for a second before he tipped a shoulder, “s’alright, I get being fed up of people poking their noses in your business when you don’t want them to…” he looked at Luke for a long moment before he leaned back against the wall “you’re welcome to bring your issues and anything else to my door. It’s always open for you.”

Lucas settled, tucking his head on the edge. The bubbles popping loud to his sensitive ears but not annoying with the smell and company. Otto was open to letting him bring his mess here? Having another place to come made his chest warm in affection, glancing over to meet his eye in faint surprise. “Always?” He asked, but knew it to be already true. How lucky. That never, ever happens to him. Happiness blossomed in him and he mentally prepared himself to admit at least the rough issue he was being here today. “You know about hunters right? And I mean the ones born a certain way? Well, this one—“ he paused, wrinkling his brow gently. “It’s embarrassing admitting it, cause it feels like my fault most of the time, but he’s hurt me for a decade more now. Sorta, like a catch and release thing. I just found out how desensitized I am to all of it. I mean, I let him almost take my arm? I don’t even remember clearly, but I didn’t fight back. That is why my pack is handling it. He wants to take me— so I’m not allowed to be alone. Just in case he calls me or something and I leave without realizing it.”

Otto sat in silence for a little while, content simply to soak in the company and ambiance of the occasional pop of bubbles in the bath. His fingers drifted idly up and down the length of the side of the bath, slow and rhythmic in their action back and forth and back again. “If you need it or me, I’ll be there.” It was rare to get an assurance like that out of him, but something about Luke intrigued him in such a way it left him feeling somewhat compelled to agree. Even with the dangers. “I do,” he shifted to sit a little more upright then looking to Lucas as he started to recount what had happened. Briefly, his eyes drifted to the wrap of bandages that were secured around his arm. Well, that explained that he thought to himself. But the thought there was someone that could just… Make Luke leave without a single word or inclination to fight to stay? The thought stirred a churning worry in his gut, he found himself asking before he could even think “what are they doing to handle it?” There were ideas already rolling around his mind, potential solutions and things he could do to help. A gift perhaps. No one needed to know… Not even Lucas that way if this hunter got into his mind… He wouldn’t even think of getting rid of it. But perhaps the more pressing question that came to Otto’s mind was “what are you going to do about him?”

Luke lifted his injured arm onto the edge of the tub, and reached for the teasing trail of fingers. He spoke quietly about the pack, “yeah, they are trying to get him arrested. They might actually make it happen. As long as I don’t mess it up, or a surprise catches us off guard like last time.” The real question surfaced, and Lucas sat forward, the water lapping gently as to not spill it and kissed Otto’s knuckles, scenting the skin there, before resting his chin on his hand to pin it to the tub. Eyes shifting to warm honey yellow as he looked at the other, mind distant and fuzzy. “Hmm,” the sound came out as a slow exhale, but it was rumbled in his chest as a low growl. His lip twitched in a faint snarl, but it was reserved, controlled-- clearly Lucas has had this question on his mind for days. “I’m conflicted on that. Greatly conflicted, Otto. Sometimes-- there isn’t a right answer. It’s why I’m so troubled and tired.” He could see Otto’s mind reeling in subtle ways, and he was curious what his thoughts on it were. Maybe, he had a better idea. “You can tell me no if you don’t want to answer. But have you ever lived with regret? Regret not dealing with someone who wronged you? Or regret in causing something that you can’t take back?”

Somehow, Otto wasn’t sure that getting someone like this arrested was going to work. “And what’s to say he’ll actually stay there? That he won’t get released in five… ten… However many years and just be an even bigger issue?” If there was one thing he didn’t have faith in it was the justice system, he’d known more than enough people who had learned how to play the system and if this man was as conniving as he seemed Otto wasn’t sure typical means would keep him in place. The kiss was nice, but his mind was already working over contingencies. But Luke didn’t answer his question, only gave another in its place which didn’t satisfy what Otto wanted to know. “Yes, but what are they doing to catch him? And what are they doing to keep you safe?” What more could he do to help? For a moment, Otto chewed on his lip seeming to wrestle with himself over something unspoken, something that he didn’t wish to dredge up. “Not wronged, no. I’ve always... adjusted situations to suit me so that I’m not in a position to be wronged or double-crossed.” But regret? “That’s something wholly different…” he continued after a moment, looking down to where his fingers were pinned by Luke’s chin “we all have regrets and actions we want to take back… It’s how we learn to come to terms with them that I think is what matters the most…” He looked back to Luke, “what is it you regret? If it isn’t too much to ask?”

Luke was watching Otto in an all encompassing way, noticing those twitches of muscles, the chew on his lip, the change in his heart beat. His warm gaze darted over his face, listening carefully to his words, and still Luke found himself lucky to have another who cared about him. Hearing the unspoken because others have said the same thing. He didn’t speak right away. Digesting everything, the scope of the situation not lost on Luke, and how difficult it was to explain without admitting so much about him. “You see my point of view so clearly. Say, what I keep saying to my family and friends,” he admitted quietly, “even with this little information, you are so brilliant.” His complement wasn’t to distract, but in honest awe. “Mhm,” he sat up, resting both arms on the tub edge. The dull ache in his arm a frustrating reminder. “I regret I lost so much of myself, so much time, because I was so alone, but no more--” he shook his head, his features subtly shifted, little hair on his knuckles, his cheekbones denser. “No more. I know what I need to do, I’ll take care of him.” Lucas said, glancing up in a show of trust to said information knowing he could be reading it very wrong and Otto could tell him to get the fuck out. He couldn’t help it though. He wanted to go all in with Otto. “You want to help me with it?”

When there were things in your past you didn’t want to dredge up it was sometimes a matter of working to talk around a subject rather than directly referencing it. Or so he’d found over the last couple of months. It didn’t bear thinking about the amount of sleepless nights he still had thinking about the look on that man’s face, confusion, horror, shock as he collapsed back in the flickering darkness as red blossomed over the front of his uniform. He’d been here for a job, and he’d died by his own gun all because Otto had panicked. Even the memory was enough to leave him feeling vaguely nauseated. “Probably because they’re all trying to view you through a rose tinted lens. It’s not their fault, they want to only see the good in you… But there’s a shadow to every self and some of  our shadows cast larger than others.” That wasn’t to say people were inherently bad, but it was simply a point to recognise that sometimes there was darkness in people that would never fully be shifted. It was something you had to learn how to live and eventually make peace with. “But what they probably don’t consider is the feeling of losing control by someone else’s hand and wanting to re-establish that.. Else you live in fear of your life falling out of your control again if you don’t do something to get it back.” He could see the different stances on it, objectively uninvolved it was simply taking a step back to look at the larger framework and see where the pieces fell into place. “I’m just being realistic… Nothing brilliant about that.” The sudden shift in Luke might’ve been concerning, but Otto simply saw it as him taking up the decision to take back his life that had been so violently ripped from him. If anyone deserved to have their life back, their peace of mind and security it was Luke and Otto would do whatever was necessary to give that back to him. His eyes hardened a little at the question but no rebuttal came only a nod. “Of course. But we have to be smart about it. No rushing headfirst into this. We take our time and plan out every possible eventuality.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” he threaded fingers, tugging gently towards the tub. Not wanting to make it seem like he wasn’t taking it seriously, but he also felt content with everything enough to sigh in relief. Otto really did understand his dilemma. Mercy has as well, and though Luke hadn’t told anyone else, not even Miles yet; he felt validated in this difficult decision. Not that it was the best to contemplate killing someone, but there were other options that left Gotch forgetting Lucas Washington forever and if not. Well. Salva had said he’d keep Gotch away from him, maybe, the wolf could even scare him away. Give them more time. While the rest of the pack, Adam, and Sargent Roland worked on the evidence, in trying to build a case, Luke had a few others to cover him in the other direction. The one that wasn’t lined with uncertainty to his own well being, but could finally end his suffering. “Only you and one other person know I’ve been thinking differently. My brother will eventually, when I can face him over it,” he pulled a little more, thumb rubbing his wrist. “Get undressed-- come sit with me?” he asked quietly, “I know, this will have your mind spinning. It’s been mine for days now. I’m glad I told you, thank you for hearing me out.”

Otto tended to take the stance that the hardest decisions needed a fair bit of contemplation before being acted upon. He also knew that while there was magic that could certainly make someone forget - every magic had its limits and every spell could be unpicked if a person cared enough to try. Out of all their options, Otto only saw one way that would genuinely put an end to this once and for all. Not a path easily walked, but in the grand scheme of things you had to sometimes take the pill that was hardest to swallow for the best possible outcome. “Who else is involved so far?” he asked, moving his thumb to lightly rub over Luke’s skin. He rolled his eyes at Luke’s insistence that he undress and join him, “this bath is not big enough for the both of us and you’re not healed enough for that to not end in disaster… But you’re welcome,” though it didn’t dissuade his mind from lingering over possible reasons for what he could do to help Luke with this hunter that was apparently making his life a nightmare. “You’re going to turn into a prune if you stay in there for much longer anyways.”

“Hmm, I am pretty tall. Get a bigger tub for the future?” Lucas winked. He knew he was definitely oversized for it, but he also really wanted to pretend that he wasn’t injured and exhausted and could humor them squeezing in as proof. He conceded and pulled himself up out of the water, grabbing a soft towel to press into his skin and tie around his waist before stepping out. He took a minute to take the plastic off from his bandage, trying to wiggle his fingers with a stiffness and much difficulty before speaking. “All the wolves because I howled when I got attacked,” he admitted, “There’s quite a few of us. Sergeant Roland is looking into the police corruption bit. There’s hacking, cameras and wards from someone else. I think it’s eight or so people working the evidence angle.” He peered over, rubbing his arm. Lucas’ eye went a little distant then. Looking at Otto but not really focused on him as that piece of darkness in him swirled that Ivor Gotch will never stop. “I have probably a month. I’ll be healed up by the next full moon. He will know this. I’ll have to know then what I’m going to do. He’ll be coming-- he won’t quit this, and the next time I can’t imagine it will be just him and I. If he brings more beast hunters, more of his family, more violence period, we’re going to have a major werewolf vs hunter battle on our hands. There could be crossbows, guns, silvered weapons, it will be bad.” He paused again, a soft chuckle. “I’ll take any help though. Especially if it doesn’t have to end in that fight. If I can find him first, or anything but that.”

“You expect me to get a bigger tub just so I can join you? Presumptuous you’re worth that much effort hm?” A light needle all things considered, and a bath really wasn’t the sort of thing Otto ever thought to spend excessive amounts on. There were better things in life than a big bath. He listened making mental notes of what Luke said and noting anything that seemed important. “What wards?” There was no helping the fact that he’d probably come over and triple check everything was secure at Luke’s, the more secure it was the less chance there was of anyone tampering anything. There was also the fact Otto didn’t have any real trust or faith in anyone in this little hellmouth, everyone had a price they’d be willing to turn for. No matter how “good” intentioned they might appear. Plus from what little he knew of the police department, who knew what use they would be. “I can probably expedite that,” Otto said in regard to the healing and getting him in better shape. “And maybe I can help you train… Mentally, I’m good with illusions… If you can get me an image I can probably make something that looks like him…” it might not be the real thing, but learning to confront him might just help Luke not pause in the moment it would truly count.

“I’m joking,” Lucas shook his head, noticing that the other wasn’t letting him play as much since it was a more serious topic between them. “You can check them, I don’t know anything about it. I’ll give you my address.” Luke walked out to grab his bag and put on clean lounge pants. Sitting on the edge of the bed he was surprised at the offer. Different worries met his mind about it, but nothing overly against it. Lucas wondered if he could stay present while seeing Gotch in such a way. “It’s his voice that gets me, more than his face. It triggers something in my head, I just shut down. But I don’t feel like that’s a bad idea. I might be able to handle seeing him better than I think. After this last attack-- I think he’s finally pushed me too far. Hopefully the sickness attached over him torturing me for so long can be swallowed down with practice.” He leaned across the bed towards the dresser and grabbed his phone, and flipped to an email between him and Miles. The snapshot of the man came into view making his chest tightened immediately challenging his words. He flipped the phone over so Otto could see that he was a decorated cop as well. “So I have physical therapy soon, and training back on the football field to get back in shape how I like to go about it. It will take a little bit of work, but I’d like to heal on my own. Let my mind remember this one-- cause in the past I didn’t so much.” 

“I know you are doofus,” Otto poked him in the shoulder before pushing up to his feet and pulling the plug to drain the water out. “Alright, I’ll stop by later to check them and make sure they’re up to scratch.” He didn’t know whether Luke would take up the offer he laid out, it was a potentially dangerous thing to toy around with but if it helped him to confront this man then Otto would work on figuring it out. “I’m not sure I could do anything about the voice since i haven’t heard him…” he admitted, taking the phone when Luke offered it out to peer at the image. He made a sound under his breath, “mind if I send this to myself?” Though he was already tapping through the options to share it to himself via Luke’s texts, he’d have to work on it and see what he could come up with. Still, he glanced over at Luke when he mentioned wanting to get better naturally. “If you’re sure… But if you’re serious about taking this dude on about ending this once and for all… You need to be in top form - physically and mentally.”

“I was already in peak shape when he attacked me and it didn’t matter,” Luke said, nodding about him taking the photo and information from the email. “I am technically, still in the best shape I’ve been in minus my arm being useless right now. As long as I rest and eat enough, I’ll heal up faster and get back on my regimen. It’s just the nerves and tendons that seem to be struggling. If I can heal up on my own from a headshot--” he winced a little, the two starburst scars on his chest ached lightly. After everything this last time-- he almost forgot this guy put him in the ground once, the urgency to ending this blaring just by looking at him. “Well, then I was alone. I’m not now.” Luke nodded again, and gave a fond smile towards Otto. “I’m sure, we can call him too. If I’m not alone with it-- it should be okay. If you need that. He will pick up, he won’t be able to help himself. If you think, it’s safe too. Don’t want him tracing it back to you.”

“Physically yes, what about mentally?” Otto asked but from what Luke had already told him he already knew the answer to his question, this man had subjected Luke to a highly extended period of suffering and conditioning. To elicit a fear response out of him and that was something that Luke would need to grow familiar and comfortable with enough to fight back against its grip. “Have you thought about therapy?” while he wanted to help with these things, Otto wondered whether professional input would actually be a good idea. As they left the bathroom, Otto rubbed his hands together the hum of his magic warm and familiar at his fingertips just waiting to be used. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. The less he knows the better… We’ll make do with what we have.”

“I have actually went already, I plan on going again. It’s hard, but the work would be worth it,” Luke said about the therapy, he didn’t like it, but he knew he needed help to get over things. His gaze went on Otto’s hands while he rubbed them together, and it was still something else to see him so eager. Even more so with magic which wasn’t a topic they spoke much about. “I know, you want to help me right away, and it’s kinda incredible,” he reached out with his good arm, wanting to touch him. “But I’m on a strict no stress diet for like two weeks. I’m down for the idea though. It would be invaluable to me.” He huffed a little, he was already quite tired after the warm water and nice atmosphere. “For now, tonight at least. Just being here is helping me more than you know. You okay with letting me crash?”

“Okay good,” that was good, wasn’t it? The fact that Luke was taking the time to work on those things as well as the physical because this battle wasn’t just as simple as fighting a man and being done with it. It was fighting the years of demons and trauma as well. Right now there were several things on his mind, magic and helping Luke being one of several moving parts within his life. That said, Otto mentally paused when Luke mentioned staying, this was becoming a bit regular… And while he didn’t mind it per se a part of him was keenly aware that there had to be some distance reinstated. “Yeah, uh- ‘course… I guess you can stay if you want, I’ve got a few things I need to stay up and finish first.”

“Yeah?” Lucas knew he was intruding, he knew he was being needy with someone that didn’t have to humor him, but Lucas really did enjoy Otto’s presence. Even in the lowest acquaintance level of capacity in chatting. Luke unfortunately to some, got attached quickly with anyone he enjoyed time with. It was always a problem for him and caused high levels of disappointment when he ultimately ruined things. “I know, I came with weird requests. You don’t have to say yes to me. I can handle a no. I’m grateful for the relaxation, even if just for a moment. Everyone else around me is on high alert, and it's a tiring emotion, even if they are worried for a good reason.” Taking his phone back, he glanced down at the image still there before closing it and texting one of the wolves to keep them on the know. It was still strange having people worry over him, or checking in on his schedule, or whereabouts.  

Otto wasn’t entirely sure what the best response to this situation was, Luke was still recovering but equally he seemed to be latching on in any way possible and Otto wasn’t all too keen with the idea of becoming a damn wolf whisperer. He had enough issues in his own life to warrant taking on too many belonging to other people. He didn’t want other people’s burdens. No matter how nice the person they belonged to seemed to be. In all honesty, the speed with which Luke moved was far too much for his mind to process and catch up to. He’d only been interested in a bit of fun, and somehow had landed himself in a position he was definitely neither equipped for both mentally and emotionally. “I mean…” he stalled trying to process the best way to say this without hurting Luke’s feelings “I get that must be tiring but they’re doing it to keep you safe. If you need to crash here… You can but…  honestly, I uh, wasn’t expecting it…”

Luke suspected, and he was easy going enough to not let it be weird. “It’s seriously fine,” he reassured. “I’m sorry if I bothered you though. Guess I was being a little selfish, trying to grasp at anything that wasn’t--” the word painful lingering there but he didn’t say it. He grabbed his stuff, “maybe if you still have interest in the illusion bit with Gotch-- well. I’d appreciate the help, but no pressure. I’m working on it, it’s been--” He didn’t know how to word it exactly, not sure if it was important enough to explain. “Alright-- I’m out. See ya,” he offered a tired grin, though it wasn’t at the vibrant capacity it was weeks prior. 

Otto flexed his fingers and uncurled them for a moment, watching Luke’s expression to try and gauge his reaction. Not the worst thing in the world. “It isn’t a bother, I just...” what? What did he want? “I guess I just don’t want you to become too dependent on other people is all… I’m happy to help, but at the end of the day this is your path to walk, you know?” And that was the truth as far as Otto could speak it. “I’ll work on something for the illusions though..” he trailed off, but gave a small nod moving to open the door and see Luke out. As the other’s form vanished down the stairs, Otto let out a sigh through his nose, why was this all so complicated?

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (For You) Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Come Back (I still need you)

In this chapter: In the past, Michael and Alex, scarred both physically and mentally, part ways. In the present day, Kyle Vale's trustworthiness is called into question. Some new information about Michael comes to light, once again shaking up Alex' theories. Meanwhile, time is running out on solving this murder. 

A/n: As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

Last week's chapter title hasn't been guessed yet! I have to admit, it might be because it's a niche song? I have no idea about it's popularity, the only reason I know it is because we sing it in my Rock Choir. So it's still open, be my guest and keep guessing!

Can anyone guess this week's?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

February, 1925

Alex stood at the regional airport, the most basic of his belongings in a duffel at his feet, looking miserably at the small plane that would fly him to Albuquerque, where another plane would take him across the country.

Today was the start of basic training, and Alex was absolutely miserable.

He hadn’t even said goodbye to Michael.

Since the…incident, they’d barely seen each other. Alex’s father had put him on house arrest and Michael had been in hospital for a while. When he came back to school – the only place they could still safely see each other – his hand was in a thick bandage and he told Alex in clipped tones that it would probably never heal properly. Alex had barely been able to look at him and also noticed that Michael was avoiding him.

Alex never blamed Michael for that. No, that was Jesse Manes’ fault.

Jesse Manes, the man who called himself his father, who threatened Michael’s life. After Michael had left that night, Jesse Manes had sat Alex down and instead of beating him, had done something far worse.

“If you value that boy’s life at all, you will do as I say from here on out. The army is recruiting a new wave of soldiers. You turn 17 soon. You’ll start your training in February.” Alex had tried to protest, but Jesse Manes went on, “You will go into the army, Alex. They will beat this disgusting perversity of yours out of you. If you don’t go, or if you have the nerve to desert, a very nasty accident might happen to rash, hot-headed Michael Guerin.”

Alex’s heart still ran cold at the memory, and he shut his eyes against the pain. He knew he had no choice, knew his father had finally found the one thing that would keep Alex in line. Threatening Michael was so much more effective than the threat of personal physical harm.

So Alex was here, five feet away from his father at all times, watching as Master Sergeant Jesse Manes conversed with the officer that was going to take him away from his home, his life, his Michael.

And Michael would never know why. Alex could still see the hurt and anger in Michael’s eyes when Alex told him he was leaving the next day. He hadn’t been able to tell Michael why, and it had sparked a fight between them unlike any Alex had ever had. Michael had stormed off, and Alex had left.

Maybe it was better like this, Alex tried to convince himself. Michael would be better off hating him. It would hurt less.

“Alex!” Master Sergeant Manes called authoritatively, and like an obedient dog, Alex came. “This is private Jackson. He’ll escort you to basic training.” Alex nodded to the young man, who seemed fairly nervous in the presence of the Master Sergeant. “Now,” Manes continued, “I expect you to uphold the valour and honour this society has begun to expect from the Manes family. Your brothers are war heroes. Try to live up to them. Then maybe, finally, I can be proud of you.”

Alex hated the way his heart jumped, hated that after all this time, making his father proud still held appeal. Alex hated everything about the man. But he was still his father. “I’ll try,” Alex said shortly. He took up his duffel and nodded to his father. “Bye, dad.”

His father gave no reply but watched Alex board the plane and the plane start to take off. “You did well,” Master Sergeant Manes said coldly. From behind a crate, Michael Guerin appeared, watching the plane take off with red-rimmed eyes. He didn’t comment, so the Master Sergeant continued. “This is what’s best for him, Michael. You pushing him away only made it easier for him to go after his destiny. It was the smart decision.”

Michael snorted, flexing his healed, but permanently disfigured fingers in anger. “It wasn’t my decision. You said you’d do to Alex what you did to me. I couldn’t let that happen. At least now he’s safely away from you.” Michael spat on the floor in front of Jesse Manes’ feet and turned on his heel, leaving the man behind.

On the plane, Alex was oblivious to this exchange. He and Jackson were laughing together, bonding over their mutual dislike of the Master Sergeant. “Hey, did you see the news?” Private Jackson held up the newspaper, and Alex took it. The paper was a local Roswell paper, the headline was in aggressive bold letters, shouting: Sheriff Jim Valenti found dead at Santa Fe, New Mexico home. Police suspect suicide.

“Jesus,” Alex murmured, scanning the rest of the article. Apparently, the unsolved case of Rosa Ortecho had always haunted him, even after moving to another town and trying to start over. The pressure and the guilt seemed to have finally gotten the better of him.

Rosa Ortecho’s murderer was still wreaking havoc, even five years after the murder.

Jim Valenti (41) leaves behind a wife, who will take over his position as sheriff in the interim, and their fifteen-year-old son, Kyle. The family was not available for comment.

Present day, 22nd of October, 1935

“Son of a bitch,” Alex cursed, taking off towards the corridor, barely avoiding a full-on collision with a wide-eyed Max Evans as he made his way quickly towards the voice of miss Otto. Kyle Vale – no, Valenti, son of disgraced Sheriff Valenti, who killed himself because he couldn’t solve Rosa Ortecho’s case – was standing over her, inspecting the wound and looking up startled at Alex’s less than subtle entry. “You!” Alex said, his heart beating fast. “You’re Kyle Valenti, aren’t you? You’ve been lying about your identity all this time, haven’t you?”

Kyle’s eyes widened almost comically, basically giving himself away before he could ever defend himself. “Alex, you don’t understand…”

“No, I think I understand perfectly,” Alex said, controlling his voice with difficulty. “Your father was on Rosa Ortecho’s case. He couldn’t solve it and killed himself over it. This was cold-blooded revenge.”

Several gasps sounded behind him. Alex turned and realised he hadn’t exactly been quiet. Every passenger was standing at the door, staring at the two men staring each other down, with miss Beth sitting in between them, looking shocked. Not very professional, Alex. “Kyle Valenti?” he heard someone whisper incredulously.

“Alex, I didn’t – ” But Kyle could only bluster, his face red, as good as a confession.

“You knew the open window would speed up the temperature changes in a dead body. You purposefully pretended not to know that! You murdered him and opened the window and then lied to my face about everything!”

“No, I – ”

“It’s true, Alex, he didn’t!” Maria said loudly, pushing forward and shrugging off her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry, Alex, I lied to you. I was with Kyle the entire night. After our game of cards that night before, Kyle invited me back to his cabin for a nightcap, so that my mother could get some rest, and we just…kept talking. I promise, Alex. Kyle had nothing to do with this.”

Alex turned towards Kyle, who shrugged with a half-smile. But Alex was done. This entire case had fucked him over multiple times, nearly cost him his life and also cost him a second chance with the love of his life. He wasn’t going to bend so easily. “Then why was your identification altered? Kyle Vale?”

Kyle’s smile vanished immediately and opened his mouth to reply. He closed it again after a few seconds. “Yeah,” said Alex, scoffing, “that’s what I thought. Michael!” Michael stepped forward, his eyes barely meeting Alex’s. “Please take Mr Valenti’s keys from him and lock him in his cabin. I want him locked up until the matter is resolved,” Alex said, throwing a hard look at Kyle as he did, who had the decency to look ashamed as he handed over his keys.

Alex turned around, but not before he saw the look Kyle was shooting Maria, who was looking wide-eyed at the scene before her. “Alex, you can’t – ” Maria said desperately, grasping Michael by the arm to stop him. “Michael, don’t let him do this!”

“Miss DeLuca, while I appreciate your input, this is the first solid lead this case has had so far. Unless you can provide me with a better one, I have no other choice than to detain Mr Valenti for the time being. If he didn’t do this, we’ll know soon enough. If he did, do you really want a murderer in your midst for even a second longer?”

To that, Maria had no retort, and Michael escorted Kyle to his cabin. A dreadful, pressing silence filled the train. Even the noise of the engine seemed to bend to its presence. Alex immediately knew that the equilibrium had shifted; before, everybody could still believe the other innocent. Now they had a target. Someone they liked, someone they trusted.

Alex knew how they felt.

And yet.

It didn’t feel right.

Kyle was his best suspect, and yet only a fraction of the evidence pointed his way. It was more than to other people, to be sure. But still, Alex mused, it wasn’t his most solid case by far. He knew the courts would probably not even touch this case on this little evidence.

Sighing, Alex left Miss Otto’s cabin, with Beth still looking stunned, behind and went back to the dining carriage. He pushed open the door thoughtlessly, and found it was not empty.

“Michael, please, just a few more – ”

“ – no, Max, I can’t do this anymore! I can’t lie to – Alex!”

Michael and Max Evans were standing very close together, both with red faces and looking as though Alex just caught them having a very heated argument. “Is everything okay?” Alex said, suspiciously, closing the door behind him. “What can’t you lie about, Michael?”

“It was nothing – ” Max began, but Michael cut him off.

“Max, for once in your life, shut the fuck up.”

Both Max and Alex looked at him in surprise. Alex knew Michael had a foul mouth, but he was polite when he needed to be, when his job required him to be. He would never talk to guests this way… “What’s going on, Michael?”

Michael ran his hands through his curls, trying to make up his mind. “Damn it. Alright." He sighed. "I've been sick of secrets for a long time now. It's time." Alex frowned, his heart picking up its pace as Michael straightened up and looked him square in the eyes. Was Michael going to confess...? "You remember I told you my siblings found me?” Alex nodded, a realisation dawning on him. “Max is my brother. Isobel is my sister. I’m sorry,” Michael said to Max as the latter began to protest, and then again to Alex, who stared, open-mouthed, at the two, “I just can’t lie anymore. Not to you.”

“Michael, I – ” Alex looked from Michael to Max and back. The two couldn’t be more different. Where Max and Isobel shared the same bone structure, the same facial features, even the same shape of their mouths, Michael didn’t look anything like his siblings. He was soft where they were hard, wild where they were reserved. But now that he was looking closer, he could see it in the colour of Michael’s eyes and the set of his shoulders. “How?” he managed to choke out. “How are they both here? Why? Precisely on your train?”

Michael shook his head miserably, but Max stepped in. “Michael got us the tickets. We wanted to be with our brother. It was easy to pull Noah along. He didn’t even realize.”

“You realize how this looks, though. A man gets murdered, and his wife’s two brothers are on the train. One of which, they didn’t have contact with until a couple of years ago! What am I supposed to make of this?!” Alex was well aware his voice was beginning to crack. So many emotions raged through him. He wanted to get to know Michael’s brother, wanted that happiness for Michael, but he also was scared of what it all meant. The coincidences just kept piling up around Michael.

“Nothing,” Michael said, stepping forward and taking Alex’s hand.  “You’re not supposed to make anything out of this, because it’s not anything! Alex, please.”

“Why did you lie?” Alex croaked, his eyes boring into Michael’s. “Just give me a reasonable explanation. You sat there,” Alex gestured wildly at the table they had sat at not a day ago, “and told you me your siblings found you and you just…neglected to mention they were on this train? Why?”

“Max asked me to. He didn’t want you to think exactly what you’re thinking now. Alex, I would do anything to protect my family. You know that better than most.”

“Oh, do I?”

“You think I got this,” Michael held up his maimed hand, and Alex flinched at the memory that surfaced with it, “for fun? You think I would’ve let you go to the army if I didn’t think you were safer there than you were with me?”

“Let me?!” Alex yelled, near hysterical now. “I chose to go into the army! To protect you, from my father! He would’ve killed you, Michael! You couldn’t have stopped me, even if you tried! Which you didn’t!”

Max was backing away from the conversation, looking startled at this sudden change in subject, but Alex barely noticed. Michael was eyes were wide and tears were threatening to spill over. “I didn’t stop you, because your father threatened you! He said he would do to you what he did to me! And I couldn’t let that happen! Your father was going to kill you one day, and I knew that pushing you away and towards the army was going to save you!”

A ringing silence hung between the two of them as they processed what the other had just said. “He did what?” Alex eventually managed. Michael nodded, a few tears escaping. “So my father threatened both of us.”

“We both thought we were doing what was best for the other.”

“And in the end, it was Jesse Manes who got what he wanted,” Alex finished bitterly. “As per fucking usual.”

“I’m so sorry, Alex.”

Alex let out a broken laugh. “What for? You were trying to protect me, I was trying to protect you…we were both hurting and stopped communicating. Jesus, we’re both fucking idiots.”

Michael let out a surprised laugh as well. “Yeah, we are.”

And without waiting another second, Alex flung his arms around Michael’s neck and pressed him into a hug. Michael wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and squeezed tightly. Alex felt warm and fuzzy inside, and for a second – as happened often around Michael – he forgot his current predicament. The hug lasted forever, or so it felt to Alex, and it made him feel warm inside, giving him a strength he hadn’t realized he had been missing. In the end, it was Max’s uncomfortable cough that broke the two apart.

“So,” Max said, scratching his ear, “you must be the Alex Michael’s always going on about.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at Michael, who shrugged noncommittally. “I guess I am.”

“Then let’s start over. I’m Max Evans, Michael’s brother.” Max extended his hand to Alex, and Alex took it without hesitation.

“Alex Manes. I’m Michael’s…well, we don’t have a name for it.”

“I think I got what you two are from the many, many, many stories Michael has told us,” Max said teasingly, winking at the pair of them, earning a disgusted scoff from Michael and a chuckle from Alex.

Michael sighed, rubbing his forehead. “So what now?”

Alex rarely encountered three words that could change an atmosphere so profoundly. What now, indeed? “It’s all going in my book, that’s step one.” Alex took out his notebook and traced a line between Max, Isobel and Michael. SIBLINGS, he wrote over the line. “And as for after that? I honest to God have no fucking clue.”

The train slowed down and Michael, Alex and Max watched as the train pulled into a train station. The sign on the platform read LAUSANNE. They’d reached Switzerland.

Their final stop before Paris.

Time was running out.

[sweetcircuits]

Spova Week Day 6: Episode

Well, I figured since I posted one fic for Chinmay Week, I might as well post one fic for Spova Week, too, so here’s this!

*      *      *      *     *      *      * 

Crush

Nova collapsed against the doorframe and watched him, shocked. He’d just ignored her like she wasn’t even there. This never happened. Ever. Maybe hell had frozen over when she wasn’t paying attention.

*      *      *      *     *      *      *

It started off as a pretty typical day.

Chiro slept through his alarm and had to be dragged out of bed by Nova.

Gibson got distracted and burned breakfast and Sparx had to salvage whatever was still edible.

Antauri beat everyone in the morning spar and waxed eloquently about it for about four minutes, by Otto’s count.

Oh yeah, and they were currently on a sabotaged space cruiser whose autopilot had gone completely rogue. The team had all split up, doing whatever they could, whatever it took to get into hyperwarp so that the autopilot would finally shut off.

Otto was in the engine room, keeping everything together with luck, metal scraps, duct tape, and sheer force of will.

Chiro was on the bridge, trying to keep the pilots on course and the autopilot from killing them.

The rest of the Monkeys were in the main area, trying to keep the passengers calm.

The hyperwarp engine was out (of course it was) and its panel was broken—its gears had popped off and were rolling around the floor somewhere in the foyer.

There were only two gears left to find when alarms began to ring. Approaching max warp-speed, a computerized voice said. Please engage hyperwarp. Please engage hyperwarp.

“I can’t flood the engine open until it’s engaged!” Otto’s voice crackled through their comms.

“And Darius can’t unlock the engaging levers until that panel’s fixed!” Chiro added.

Out of the corner of his eye, Antauri caught sight of the panel sinking into the floor. “The panel!” he yelled.

Sparx was the closest. He caught it and hauled it back up until the gear slots were visible. Gibson appeared with one of the last two gears and popped it into place. “It’s—really heavy—” Sparx groaned. “Hurry…” Gibson nodded and rushed off.

Please engage hyperwarp. Please engage hyperwarp.

“Guys, hurry!” Otto shouted. “If it overheats I’m never gonna get it started—”

Nova dug underneath every possible piece of furniture looking for the stupid missing gear. It had to be somewhere!

Please engage hyperwarp. Please engage hyperwarp.

Sparx shifted his position slightly, trying to get a better grip. Sweat rolled down his neck and made tracks in his fur. So… heavy… His ability to think was being overwritten by the pain in his arms and shoulders. Gotta keep it open. His heartbeat echoed between his antennae. We gotta get outta here.

Please engage hyperwarp. Please engage hyperwarp.

“NOVA!”

He wasn’t sure why he’d yelled her name.

And then his foot slipped.

KARRRUNNNNCH!!!!

It was a sickening, heart stopping sound; one Nova would continue to hear in her dreams for weeks to come.

“SPAAAAAARX!”

Please engage hyperwarp. Please engage hyperwarp.

She found the gear wedged underneath a chair in the corner of the room. In an instant she was back at the panel, pulling it open with all her strength. Fingers trembling, she shoved the gear in its place and the alarms stopped.

“Yeah, they got it! Darius, hit it!” Chiro whooped over the comm line.

“You got it, boss!” came the pilot’s reply.

The panel vmmmm’d open of its own accord, all levers locked in the correct place. Nova’s heart shot up into her throat and stayed there as Sparx rolled out from under it and she scooped him into her arms. One of his arms had been torn off at the shoulder, the other one dented and bent. One of his antennae had been crushed and his helmet was dented, cracked, and creased where it shouldn’t be. One of his lenses was cracked open and she was pretty sure his tail wasn’t supposed to be bent like that…

Otto’s voice echoed throughout the ship. “Hyperwarp activating in 15… 14… 13…”

Damn it all!

She grabbed him up in her arms, activated her rocket pack, and left Gibson and Antauri to do damage control. Zipping as fast as she could through the ship’s corridors, she made her way back to Docking Bay 2, where they’d left the Super Robot. He’s gotta be okay, he’s gotta be, he’s gotta be, he’s gotta be, he’s gotta be, she repeated like a mantra, heart descending from her throat to slam painfully against her ribs.

“8… 7… 6…”

She felt warm liquid seep into her fur. She held his mangled form even tighter to her, not daring to look down. Miraculously, she found the right docking bay, and like the Robot knew she was coming, he opened the chest hatch for her.

“3… 2… 1! Here we go!”

They were hurtling through space faster than the speed of sound, but Nova didn’t feel a thing. She shoved him into a healing tank while she banged out all the dents in his arms. It was long, agonizing minutes—five, then ten, then almost twenty—until his antennae were reattached, until his helmet was sealed properly again, until his bruises faded measurably.

When the healing tank’s light turned green, she removed him from within, set him on the exam table, and fixed the lens over his eye. As she snapped his repaired arms back into place, she began to panic. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Was something wrong? She didn’t think he had any lasting head or brain damage, as the Diagnostics system hadn’t told her that that was the case. She moved to his other arm and Sparx was still uncharacteristically silent.

After Nova had finally twisted his wrist back into place, she stood back and looked at him. “Sparx, are you okay?” She whispered it like a prayer, wondering, pleading, asking, hoping…

Sparx’s eyes opened, but his expression didn’t change. He rolled off the table and stood, ignoring Nova when she reached out an arm to steady him. He looked down at his hands. He turned his left hand into a magnet, then the right one. He lifted them up to look at them, then put his arms down and put his weapons away. He looked up slowly, then began to walk toward Nova.

“Sparx, I was so worried, I’ve never seen—!”

Without stopping, he stepped right past her into the main room. He went over to the console and began to tap the console’s buttons with methodical precision.

Nova collapsed against the doorframe and watched him, shocked. He’d just ignored her like she wasn’t even there.

This never happened.

Ever.

Maybe hell had frozen over when she wasn’t paying attention.

Two, three more minutes passed as she watched him, hoping that he would turn around and talk to her, thank her, at least acknowledge her. She never noticed how much she actually enjoyed his attention until he wouldn’t even look at her. “Sparx!” she shouted at last.

He turned halfway, looking at her with a blank expression.

Fear gripped her heart. She crossed the floor in three strides and grabbed his arm. He met her gaze, but there wasn’t anything in it. “Sparx…” she whimpered.

Nothing. It was like she was invisible.

Anger surging through her fear, she grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. “SPARX!”

She slid her hand into his, weaving his fingers between her own. With her other, she cupped his cheek. “Sparx, please…”

He blinked slowly.

Finally giving in to a last, desperate shred of hope, she pressed her lips against his.

She pulled away again, and, seeing nothing, turned away. But his hand was tightening in hers, and she turned back around to face him, something fluttering in her chest. He tilted his head, his eyes squeezing shut. When they blinked open again, something alive, something warm, lit behind them. “Nova…?”

Holy Shugazoom, delayed reaction, much?

“Sparx…” she breathed.

His fingers tightened again, and he looked at his hand, frowning. Gasping, he pulled their linked hands up. “Nova, what-?” He looked at their hands, then at her, then at their hands again.

“Sparx, you absolute fucking idiot…” she cried. “Why? Why on Shugazoom…” Then her mouth was crashing onto his again and Sparx didn’t know what to do except hold her tight.

After they pulled apart the second time, Sparx swallowed and then chuckled. “You know, it is called a crush…”

“Sparx, you literally almost died.” She clapped her hands on his shoulders and shook him again, just in case it hadn’t been enough the first time.

Sparx cupped both her cheeks in his hands and grinned. “Nah. Well, even if that was the case... you kissed me twice and meant it both times. Totally worth it.”

“I did kiss you… oh stars, I kissed you…” Nova pulled back as her head whirled. She’d kissed the red Monkey. On the lips, even. It was official, hell had completely and utterly frozen over. She blinked and focused on him as he tilted his head, brow raised questioningly. She swallowed and finally deigned to process the fact that she’d kissed him, she’d lived, and she’d enjoyed it. She exhaled giddily. “Eh, it wasn’t too bad. I could probably stand to do it again.”

*      *       *      

It took Chiro and the rest a little less than half an hour to get the ship and its crew and passengers settled down. When they arrived back in the Robot, the first thing they saw was Sparx and Nova hugging like the world was ending.

When they heard the tube land, they turned.

It turned out that they weren’t just hugging, they were kissing, too.

Gibson wordlessly handed Otto a six-dollar bill.

*     *       *    

[musikfurfreiheit]

Second Chance (2/10)

The clock seemed to be moving in slow motion. Every second felt like a minute, her headache slowly grew as Merel’s blood made her way to her head, and the music barely reached her anymore. She was bored, so bored, but smiled when she saw her colleague walking towards her, upside down.

‘You look like a tomato.’ Otto frowned when he saw Merel hanging upside down on her chair.

The girl sat up again and looked at her friend while leaning against the back of the chair. She instantly felt better, but was still bored as hell. All she wanted to do was go home to Vincent and be away from humanity. Maybe shoot some virtual soldiers to get rid of her anger.

‘4 customers,’ Merel said ‘there have been 4 customers in the last hour.’

‘It’s a slow day, I know. Just think about the money and you’ll survive. Maybe we can go out for a beer when we’re done.’

Merel’s face lit up for a second. Otto was her best friend and it was great to spend time with him, especially outside of work. They both had a passion for music, they both worked the local music store after all, and could talk about it for hours. Their humor matched, their interests matched, and they both loved beer. At any given day, Merel would have accepted the offer, but today she had to decline.

‘I can’t.’ She sighed. ‘I have a new student this evening.’

‘Good, you’re meeting new people.’

Merel looked at Otto with a stern eye. She knew what direction this conversation was heading to, and she definitely didn’t like it. The main reason she worked here was to get away from the person Otto wanted to talk about, and Merel wasn’t having it.

‘Don’t.’

‘What?’ Otto smiled. ‘I’m just saying it’s great that you’re meeting new people.’

‘I do not want to talk about Alissa.’

‘You don’t have to, but you have to get out of your apartment more. Meet new people, make friends, stop being afraid of children. I know Alissa lied to you and betrayed you, but not everyone is like that. You can’t let her control your life.’

The door of the store opened before Merel could answer. She was glad that their conversation was interrupted, but even happier when she looked at the clock again. Her shift would be over in less than half an hour.

Unfortunately the costumer only spent a minute in the store before deciding she wouldn’t find what she was looking for. With a sigh Merel looked at the clock again, counting the minutes until the end of her shift. As soon as the bells of the nearby church started ringing, the girl almost ran towards the back to grab her bag and leave the store as quickly as possible.

Merel’s pace was slightly higher than usual, just to get home that bit earlier. It wasn’t for her new guitar student, the student wouldn’t arrive for another 15 minutes, but Merel couldn’t wait to bury her face in Vincent’s soft fur. Otto’s mention of Alissa had tied a knot in her chest, but she was determined to not let it get any tighter. The blue haired girl was no longer allowed to have that effect on her. Merel needed distraction, preferably in the fluffy form of her cat.

Already thinking about Vincent’s purring, Merel climbed the stairs to the second floor. The scent of smoke already filled the hallway. It was no surprise to find a tall, platinum blond woman in front of her door, nor was it unusual. Floor’s people came by at the most impossible hours of the day.

‘Finally!’ The woman let out as soon as she saw Merel, taking another sig from her cigarette. ‘I’ve been waiting here for at least five minutes! I need my stuff!’

Merel just ignore most of the what the woman said. These people lived in their own world, and there was no use in discussing with them. It was better to just give them what they wanted and stay out of their way.

‘What’s your name?’ Merel asked while opening the door.

‘Lilly. Now can you please hurry up?’

Once again, Merel ignored the last part. She took her time to open the door and take off her coat before walking over to the sideboard next to the door. Several plastic packages where displayed, each provided with a name. Merel easily found the right package and handed it to the woman. She closed the door again without waiting for a “Thank you”. There wouldn’t be one anyway.

As if he had been waiting for the door to be closed, Vincent made his presence known by rubbing up to Merel’s leg. A smile appeared on her lips and she kneeled down to pet him. His purring sounded immediately, making his owner smile even more. Vincent made her happy, happier than any human being ever would. He could be an asshole from time to time, but at least he would never betray her trust.

The sound of the bell made both of them look up. A glance at the clock told Merel it would either be her student, who would be early, or just another one of Floor’s people. Hoping for that first option, she made her way downstairs to the entrance of the building. She’d decided it was easier to meet her new students downstairs and guide them towards the right door rather than giving them instructions. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them got lost and accidentally knocked on the door of their neighbour. Usually it wouldn’t be a problem, but since the man living next door liked to walk around in his underwear, Merel preferred keeping her students away from her neighbour.

Trying to ban her neighbour from her mind, Merel opened the door and smiled when she took in the young woman standing in front of her. Red hair, leather jacket, nose piercing, nervous smile, and a guitar bag in her hand. This was definitely her new student, and she was beautiful.

‘Hi, I’m Charlotte. I’m your new student.’

[ladytauria]

I don't know a lot about Marvel. But over at Netbug009 they were talking about srmthfg experiencing the Thanos snap. Only instead of Thanos, it's original Mandarin killing his clone (because Mandy only loves himself) and using the gauntlet to erase half the universe's population. Of the team Antauri, Sprx and Gibson experience the snap and disappear. Leaving Chiro, Nova and Otto behind. I'm just like, wow. Imagine from there they alone have to pick up the pieces and keep fighting the war-

2 with their remaing allies. Imagine the unfairness that many of the people they befriended/knew were gone while many of their enemies lived. Especially SK being immune to the snap. Imagine them trying to make up for their losses by adapting. Jimnay sticks around permanently and takes over Sprx's ship and pushes herself to be a great pilot like him. She also studied engineering more to help Otto w/the SR and any medical cyborg repairs. Imagine Otto trying to learn any and all of Gibson's -

3 Gibson's research and areas of expertise because they need a scientist like Gibson. Chiro and Nova becoming medics to make up for Gibson's absence. Nova pushing herself to become wiser and better in all things to replace Antauri. Chiro becoming a ace in everything and constantly training in the PP to make up for the loss of 3 PP users. Chiro being a stepford smiler trying to hide his worries and full extent of his trauma because everyone remaining looks to him for hope. Otto becoming even -

4 pragmatic then before and constantly anxious to stay close to Chiro and Nova outside the SR no matter what. Nova more aggressive to enemies, controlled over her emotions everywhere else and overprotective of her team. They training various allies to take over Gibson and Antauri's ships for battle. 4 years pass and they try to move on and have succeeded in various ways. But then they unknowingly (while fighting Mandarin) undo the snap and bring back the other half of the universe (probably-

5 thanks to them unleashing some major new PP powers at Mandy's gauntlet). For Antauri, Sprx and Gibson they've only been gone less then a second and were in a major battle that they looked like they were winning. Now they've come back to a completely different universe w/their other teammates being the same yet very different (17/18 year old Chiro and Jimnay was a shock).

@netbug009, I thought you might like to get in on this since discussion on your blog was mentioned

I ADORE this. This whole premise... just perfect. It’s everything I love about time travel fics, except ANGSTIER. (Which. Yes. Love me some angst & hurt/comfort, and this sounds like it would have it in SPADES *dreamy sigh*) 

Forgive me while I just... gush and add things :o 

I loooove the idea of Chiro putting on a brave face when everything seems like it’s falling apart. Doing his best to keep the rest of the team together, to be strong for them and their allies, and to keep the people of Shuggazoom from panicking more than they already are...

And then Jinmay stepping in, becoming a more integral/official part of the team, but in a way that just feels WRONG. her stepping in before had always been temporary. the missing person was always going to come back (even if, in the case of Antauri, they didn’t realize that). she’s stepping into shoes that feel too large for her to fill, and struggling to keep it together. Especially when she knows that she needs to be there for Chiro and the others, because they need a shoulder to lean on too.

Otto abandoning his more “childish” and goofy side to embrace pragmatism and logic, making up for the hole that Gibson abandoned just HURTS. Especially when you combine it with the thought that maybe, he doesn’t feel like he has anything more to joke about. Getting anxious when his allies are out of his sight because oh god, what if this time they don’t come back? 

Nova. Nova controlling herself with a sort of rigidity the others haven’t seen before. Still able to offer up a smile and a hug for her immediate teammates but becoming a cold sort of General in front of everyone else. Taking in sort of Antauri-esque traits, before Chiro’s presence and Mandarin’s absence loosened him up. That anger is unleashed on the battlefield--because that’s it’s place, that’s where it belongs. She’s terrifying out there, a supernova in her own right.

And then that’s what the others come back to.  It’s heartbreaking. It’s worrying. It’s terrifying. These are almost-strangers wearing friendly faces. These are people who were broken by loss, and when they put their parts back together, it came out... not-quite right. 

[kitsunix]

Title: Who Likes Gherkins?

Chapter: 1/???

Fandom: Scream Street

Pairing: BatShift (Resus Negative/Dixon Sneer)

Characters: Resus Negative, Dixon Sneer, Cleo Farr, Luke Watson (mentioned), Otto Sneer (mentioned), Carla Black (mentioned), No Name (mentioned), Doug (mentioned), Dig (mentioned)

Rating: K+

Summary: If Resus were to be asked where all his troubles began while lying on a shrink’s couch, he’d have to say it was the time he lost his cloak.

Word Count: 3342 words

Catalyst

The first thing Resus registered was the splitting headache. The second was the cold, hard floor he was currently lying on. Not exactly the signs of waking up in a familiar coffin.

Resus winced as he tried to recall the events that led to him waking up in a not-so-familiar location. Okay, Doug happened to spot Carla Black stepping off the rollercoaster linking Scream Street to the Normal World, accompanied by NoName… he told Resus, Luke and Cleo, so with Dig’s help, the three of them tracked them down to Sneer Hall to see if they were up to something… sure enough, she was proposing to Otto that rather than try to drag the “freaks” to the Normal World to display them in her zoo, they’d bring the Normal World to the “freaks”—turn Scream Street itself into a giant zoo and charge normal people admittance to gawk. She’d even provide the traps and cages, since they knew the Scream Street residents wouldn’t exactly volunteer to put on a show for the normal folks…

Now that Resus thought about it, they shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t exactly beneath Otto to exploit the residents of his town for monetary gain of any sort, and he already viewed them as little more than animals, he made that perfectly clear… that didn’t stop the outrage. How could those two treat the paranormal like this?! Round them all up in cages, put them on display for a jeering crowd… for money?! What made them think they could get away with this under President McDread’s nose?!

Then they started coming up with unique ways to provide—or rather, provoke—entertainment from each resident.

It was hard enough restraining Cleo when Otto suggested having paying customers poke and prod at her and her father’s displayed hearts to watch them react. It was even harder repressing his own fury when Black announced they’d cut off his family’s blood supply so the crowd could see some bloodthirsty vampires, then offer to give it back if they agreed to transform into bats on command.

So when the two of them agreed the crowd could try to provoke one of Luke’s werewolf rages while he was caged up—say, by… putting his parents in another cage and threatening them—all bets were off.

Covers blown on both sides, chaos erupted. The crooks got to witness a werewolf rage first-hand, Cleo boldly announced they’d go to McDread about it, Otto ordered his accomplices to get rid of the evidence, there was a mad scrabble for any and all incriminating documents and blueprints, and they all scattered to different parts of the manor.

Resus remembered Luke charging NoName and Black, who made a beeline for her tranquilizer gun; Cleo leapt clean over any debris thrown her way in pursuit of Otto; that left Resus to take off after Dixon.

As he chased the shapeshifter through the ground floor and down into the basement, one thought that had raced through his mind—other than how the hell he was supposed to restrain him after catching up, really, Cleo should’ve been the one to take on Dixon—was why Dixon would even be in on this. Sure, he was on board with any plan that Otto came up with, being his apprentice and all, but surely he’d realized he was exactly the sort of “freak” that Carla Black would love to display in her zoo! It was only a matter of time before the two crooked Normals shoved him into a cage—one he couldn’t shapeshift out of—and made him transform on command for the audience’s entertainment.

Even with everything Dixon had pulled on them since becoming Otto’s apprentice, he didn’t deserve that…

Resus had heard a metal slam as he exited the spiral staircase and wrenched open a solid wood door, and he’d found himself in a long, stone hallway, with damp walls lined with rusty suits of armor, dimly lit by green lanterns suspended from the ceiling. There were barred doors lining both walls—tons of doors. Great. Dixon could’ve disappeared into any one of them…

As he crept down the hallway, Resus had remembered the slam and realized that was the sound of a door closing, and all of the cells were open. So he looked for one that was closed. He’d finally found one directly across the hall from a suit of armor with a green feather on the helm, and peered into the dark cell, trying to spot anything that shouldn’t be there. The cell had been pretty bare, not a lot of places for Dixon to hide, strange that he would duck in there... wait a minute... didn’t the suits of armor have red feathers...? His thoughts had been interrupted when he’d heard a rusty creak from behind him and felt the blow to the back of his head.

Which led him to where he was now.

Groaning, Resus pulled himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head to alleviate the pain. He gave his surroundings a glance—damp stone walls, thin cot, rusty shackles on the walls… yup, he was in a cell. He didn’t even need to look behind him to know the door was locked.

“’Bout time you woke up! I was starting to get bored.”

Resus growled and forced himself unsteadily to his feet. Figured that Dixon would stick around to gloat… or maybe the others had also been caught and he’d come back to gloat. Either way, like hell he’d face him on the floor. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Ugh… you may have gotten the drop on me, Dixon,” he spat the other’s name, “but I heard everything. Every little detail of Otto’s plan. Like what he has planned for my parents.” The very idea still made him seethe. “You can’t hold me. Not while my family needs me.” Keeping his back to the other boy, he subtly brought his hand to his left side. “I’ll get out of here. And when I do, your boss had better watch his ba—” His little declaration of war was cut short when he felt nothing but air between his left arm and his side. His stomach dropping out from under him, he checked his right side. Nothing. In the dim light coming from outside the cell, he could see his arms, clad in his white dress shirt, his waist, in a grey vest… all that was missing was—

“Looking for this?”

Resus whirled around to finally face the shapeshifter, who was casually leaning against the wall opposite Resus’ cell, an infuriatingly smug grin on his face, and—

Oh, Helsing, no!

—he was wearing his cloak. The smug bastard was wearing Resus’ cloak. His family’s cloak!

Resus lunged for the door, clutching a bar tightly in one hand, his entire other arm reaching through the bars, grasping at air in a vain attempt to retrieve his cloak.

He took it back. He took it all back. Everything about Dixon not deserving to be exhibited like an animal in the zoo. He deserved all that and more.

“Give me back my cloak, Dixon!”

“Not a chance! You might as well ask me for the keys to your cell, for all the good that’ll do you. Besides…” The smirk was back on Dixon’s face full-force. “It looks a lot better on me, don’t you think?”

Resus clenched his teeth as he watched Dixon examine himself in the cloak, strike a few “glamour” poses, even twirl around once just to feel the cloak billowing behind him. Resus had tried getting a fistful of his cloak at that point, only for Dixon to grab one of its corners and bring it to his chest, wrapping the cloak around himself in yet another classic “vampire” pose.

“Oh yeah, much better. Y’know, I always wanted to perform to a captive audience.”

Both of Resus’ hands were gripping the bars now, as he fought to control his temper. He wasn’t like Luke, jumping into dangerous situations without a plan, able to channel his anger to get him out of trouble. He could think his way out of this. Especially if the one he had to out-think was Dixon.

“I can’t wait to see the look on Otto’s face!” said shapeshifter continued, half to Resus, half to himself. “A cloak that can give you whatever you want? Imagine what Otto can do with this!”

Oh. So he didn’t know just how selective the cloak was concerning those it served—namely, the Negative family. That’s good. He could use this.

“Well, I’ve got news for you, gherkin-head—” Here Dixon snorted. That wasn’t half-bad for an insult. “That cloak will only work for its rightful owner. Which, wouldn’t you know it, happens to be me. It’s useless to you—hell, nine times out of ten it’s useless to me, so why don’t you just hand it over…”

“If it’s so useless to you, why do you want it back so bad?” Resus opened his mouth to answer, but no retort came out. He hadn’t expected Dixon to just hand over the cloak, but he also didn’t expect him to call his bluff. Dixon just smiled that little half-grin he got when he was feeling cheeky and continued. “And besides, did you really think I’d just leave you locked in a cell with something that had a chance of giving you what you need to escape? How daft do you think I am?” Dixon paused, before shooting Resus an annoyed glare. “Don’t answer that.”

Resus threw his hands up in mock frustration. “Fine. You know what? You’re right. It’s not that helpful after all. It would probably just leave me here to rot. I don’t even want it back.” He turned his back to the other boy. “Good luck with your new fashion accessory, ‘cause that’s all it’ll ever be to you.”

Dixon blinked in surprise, and a little disappointment. Clearly he hadn’t expected him to give up just yet. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. Maybe I can ask the cloak to get you something.” Wow, he must be even stupider than he thought, if he still thought he could make the cloak work. “Maybe some tomato juice?” Resus rolled his eyes. Let him try, if that’s what it took to hammer the fact that it wouldn’t work for him into his thick— “Wow, thanks, cloak! Here you go!”

Resus whirled around, to see Dixon holding out a bottle of tomato juice—still too far to grab the cloak, unfortunately. His jaw dropped.

“W-where did you get that?”

“… from the cloak?”

“No. No, no, no, that’s impossible. That cloak’s never worked for anyone but its rightful owner—it’s been that way for generations!” He pointed an accusatory finger at the shapeshifter. “You’re faking it! I don’t know how, but you’re faking it! Ask for something else!”

Dixon blinked, before setting down the bottle of juice and reaching into the cloak again. “All right… how about… a hammer?” He pulled his hand back out, now grasping a shiny silver hammer with an ebony handle. Resus gaped, and Dixon grinned. “Oooh, fancy! Otto never would’ve gotten me one this good!”

Resus gripped the bars again as he struggled to find words. “A-ask for something else!” Maybe Dixon wasn’t wearing his cloak at all. Maybe he just shapeshifted one over his uniform—he could do that, right?—and hid the real one away, knowing it wouldn’t work for him, and this was all an elaborate joke? “Something you couldn’t possibly have!”

“Still think I’m faking this, eh? All right then… Cloak, could you give me the answers to last week’s English test? I failed that one…” Sure enough, he withdrew a sheaf of papers from the cloak, gave them a once-over, then handed it to Resus. “Read it and weep, Resus!”

Resus snatched the papers and scanned the answers, his grip tightening on them with each correct one. This… this couldn’t be true… but there was no way Dixon could fake this. No amount of shapeshifting and foresight in the world could’ve summoned these test answers from thin air. Not even for a practical joke. But how…

“What else have you got for me, cloak? Maybe a spatula?” Sure enough, he withdrew a brand-new spatula from the cloak. “Aw, you shouldn’t have! Think you can top this?” Next he pulled out a spiffy black top hat with a purple band, which he immediately donned. “Nice one, cloak!”

Was the cloak spiting him? For calling it useless?

“All right, cloak, let’s share the wealth… something Otto needs? His birthday’s coming up soon, I have no idea what to get ‘im.” Dixon reached into the cape again… and pulled out a container of wart medicine. A rather large container. Dixon stared at it for a moment, before he burst out laughing. “I-haha-I like the way you think! You’re my kind of cloak!” He placed the container down next to the steadily growing pile and wiped a tear from his eye. “Priceless! Literally!”

Resus threw himself against the door, the test answers scattered at his feet. “Cloak! I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to call you useless, I just wanted Dixon to give you up—”

“So you admit it.”

“—you know how much you mean to my family, how much you mean to me, and you know how dangerous you can be in the wrong hands, that’s why you’ve only ever worked for us! Just—” Resus clenched his eyes shut. “Why Dixon…? How is Dixon more deserving of your respect than me?”

“I dunno. Why don’t we ask it?” Grinning broadly, Dixon reached into the cloak again. “Cloak, why are you working perfectly for me when you almost never work for Resus? C’mon, give us a hint!”

To both of their surprise, Dixon pulled out a photograph. Resus couldn’t see it, but he could see Dixon’s reaction: a blank stare, followed by an amused half-grin. Resus, meanwhile, had lost his patience. Nothing inside that cloak could excuse it spitting in the face of logic and tradition so it could work for Dixon.

“It’s only supposed to work for NEGATIVES!”

Dixon turned his attention from the picture to the enraged not-vampire, but his expression didn’t change, save for him lowering his eyelids in a sly, almost… coy manner.

“Are you proposing? Because I don’t see a ring~”

As if on cue, he pulled out a black diamond ring from the cloak.

Resus snapped. He thought he’d snapped before, but that had just been lightly testing the limits of his patience and sanity. Those limits had been smashed to pieces by a tag team of an insufferable gherkin-head and a treacherous cloak. Now, he pushed against the bars with reckless abandon, clawing at the air with both hands, screaming every insult, every threat, every profanity that popped into his head—seems his brain to mouth filter had been taken out, too. Looking back on his temporary fit of insanity, he’d never thought he was capable of swearing death on someone in so many imaginative ways. It was like a werewolf rage had been awakened in him as well, and he felt strong enough to rend the bars into so much scrap metal—yet they held fast.

And all the while, there was Dixon, shocked at first by his outburst, then laughing his head off, which only infuriated him more. Oh, when he got his hands on him, he’d wipe that grin right off his face, make him beg for death before denying him, over and over and over again—

Dixon’s laughter—and consequently, Resus’ tirade—cut off abruptly, and the green-haired boy fell forward on top of his pile of ill-gotten goods. Cleo stood behind him, her hand raised in a karate chop around where the back of Dixon’s neck was.

“There you are. We were beginning to think something might’ve happened when we couldn’t find you… then we heard the screaming.” She retrieved a keyring from Dixon’s pocket and stepped over him to unlock the cell door. “Thanks for that, by the way—we might not have found you so quick. Luke offered to sniff you out, but between the effects of the tranquilizer and the smell down here, he might not have had a good time of it.” She gave him a concerned glance, and he coughed and held his throat, raw from his tirade. “What was he doing to you, by the way? I’ve never heard you scream like that…”

No way. There was no way his friends could know. If they found out not only that Dixon, freaking Dixon, had managed to master the cloak in a way he could only dream of, but what the two of them were insinuating—which his mind was still struggling to comprehend, it was just so wrong—they’d never let him hear the end of it. By keeping them in the dark about this, at least he could gather up a shred of dignity.

“He… er… I mean…” Absently, he pointed in Dixon’s direction, and Cleo’s eyes lit up.

“—stole your cloak? Typical Dixon.” She roughly yanked the cloak off the unconscious shapeshifter and handed it back to Resus. “Not a good look for him. Especially since he can’t even use it.”

Resus was quick to tug it on—despite his lingering resentment towards the cloak, he felt almost naked without it.

“Yeah,” he forced a laugh. “What was he thinking…”

“Knowing Dixon?” She smirked. “Probably not very much. Quick, before he wakes up—”

They hauled Dixon’s unconscious body into the cell Resus previously occupied (“You… do know that won’t hold him for long, right Cleo?” “Of course I do, but that doesn’t always occur to him.”), and Resus had a fun time explaining where all the random objects came from (“Instruments of torture?” “…” “… bizarre instruments of torture?”), before they took off down the dungeon hallway, Cleo explaining how she managed to blackmail Otto and Black into abandoning their scheme by beginning to call McDread while there was an unconscious, captured werewolf in the room, as well as retrieving the security footage from the cameras Dixon was supposed to have turned off. Resus paused long enough to snatch the photograph from Dixon’s hand, as well as the bottle of tomato juice from the pile—he had a feeling he’d be needing it later—opting to leave the rest behind. He glanced at the photo, recognizing it as one of many he took of the day their class took a field trip to a lake. The rest were in a photo album, but there was a good reason this one was tucked away in his cloak, never to see the light of day—why would he want to look at a picture of Dixon sitting on the pier in his swim trunks while guzzling a soda, anyway? Didn’t even know why he took it, honestly.

Sticking the picture back in his cloak, he held it up and hissed, “You and I are gonna have a long talk when we get home.”

***

The first thing Dixon registered was the pain in his neck. The second was the cold, hard floor he was currently lying on. Not exactly the signs of waking up in a familiar bed.

Groaning, Dixon pulled himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his neck to alleviate the pain. He gave his surroundings a glance—damp stone walls, thin cot, rusty shackles on the walls… yup, he was in a cell. He didn’t even need to look behind him to know the door was locked.

Not that that would hold him for long.

Dixon winced as he tried to recall the events that led to him waking up in a not-so-familiar location. His eyes widened as the pieces fell into place… and a wicked grin spread across his face.

Things were going to be much more fun from now on… so much more fun.

[lyraparadigm]

Troy Otto One Shot Series #2

#2 Violence and Vice

The first time Troy really saw Arya was when she was so immersed in writing on walls that she didn’t so much as notice his entrance into the room. He took that opportunity to lean against the door frame and observe her. She was in uniform now; cargo trousers and a black tank top. Her hair was piled atop her head in a bun but flyaway strands seemed to irritate her on occasion as they fluttered across her eyes. She seemed so focused, with the way she kept clenching and unclenching her jaw. Her scribbles on the flip chart were getting more and more illegible till finally, she threw a tantrum and her pen went sailing across the room.

“That’s militia property, I’ll have you know. I won’t have you damaging it.”

She jerked as she spun round to face him. The first thing he noted about her were her eyes. They were as rich as the earth’s soil; chasms of deep brown with flecks of amber. She rolled them at him before walking across the room to pick up the discarded pen. He pursed his lips to prevent from showing amusement.

“What are you writing?”

He watched as she took a deep breath and released it; her entire form stiffening instead of relaxing.

“Everything I’ve observed about the walkers so far.” She motioned towards the whiteboard on the wall. His eyes scanned the board, picking up on simple observations like walkers being sensitive to sound and the smell of fresh blood.

“There’s a prevention tactic for each of these.” She explained. “Don’t kill them with guns or else you’ll attract more…but if you’re determined to use guns then shoot them in the head; a clean shot will save ammo and kill them instantly.”

“We’ve already figured this out.” Troy pointed out. Traces of annoyance laced his voice.

“What about concealing the smell of human bodies?” Arya asked, in an equally annoyed voice. Troy cracked a grin at that.

“Have you noticed the perimeter of dead walkers around the base?”

Arya’s brows furrowed; she had noticed but had assumed Troy and his men simply didn’t want to burn them for fear of attracting more Walkers.

“The smell of dead corpses keeps them away.” Troy boasted and Arya rolled her eyes discretely at his admission. She couldn’t be more obvious, by that proud little smirk on his face, that he had been the one to figure it out.

“What else?” He pushed, “Don’t tell me I saved your life for nothing.”

Clenching her jaw, Arya glared at Troy. ‘If only looks could kill,’ she thought bitterly to herself. There was something about the way Troy looked at her and spoke to her that just plain irritated her. She had heard a hell of a lot worse from others but Troy was equating her intelligence to her worth and the fact that he was questioning his decision to keep her alive was implying that he didn’t think she was clever enough.

“I figured out how to camouflage myself around them,” she spat out, “I even told you about it.”

“But why would I want to hide from them when I can just kill them?” He argued back.

She scoffed, “How many can you go on killing before their sheer numbers overwhelm you? What if you’re surrounded by an entire herd? What if you’re running low on ammo and you have to do a supply run? I passed on useful information.” She defended hotly but Troy still had that damn smirk on his face.

“Useful for you maybe…but not for me. I have plenty of food stored up and I won’t run out of ammo…atleast in my life time anyway.”

She didn’t know what enraged her more; his smugness or the fact that he had it so goddamn easy in this post apocalyptic hell hole. She threw her pen across the room again to relieve some of her pent up anger. She had problems controlling it when he looked at her like he was better than her. It sent her blood boiling.

“You can’t just hide from them,” she growled, “You can’t just sit behind your fences and live like nothing’s wrong with the world because newsflash,” she spat, “They don’t die unless you kill them. They don’t slow down, their hunger is never satisfied and they don’t decompose like normal corpses. You can’t hide from the goddamn problem like a damn coward.”

Her calling him a coward didn’t sit right with him at all, especially not when she was here and alive because of his generosity.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” He towered over her short form, his hand gripping her arm in a vice like grip but aside from a small twitch of her eyes, she didn’t react to being in pain. He was well aware that his grip would bruise her but he needed to drive fear into her, one way or another.

“Does this look like ‘nothing’ to you?” He snarled, “We’re making progress here. Real progress. Better than just killing these creatures blindly. We’re doing important work here to understand why we spoil.”

“You’re killing innocent people.” She spoke through gritted teeth and then grimaced as his grip further tightened.

“I don’t see you trying to save them.” He pointed out snidely, daring her to lower her gaze. Arya wasn’t stubborn by nature. She was selfish and self-serving. Logically, she knew she should look away. She knew she should appease his ego to prevent the psycho from hurting her but he was under her skin now and she refused to back down.

“I don’t care about saving them.” She sneered.

“What do you care about then?” His grip unknowingly loosened and she took that opportunity to shove his chest. His grip slipped to her wrist and he tugged at her more forcefully. It brought them unnecessarily close to each other, to the point where he could see the black of her pupils clash with the brown of her irises.

“I care about surviving…and none of what you’re doing is helping that cause.”

He mulled her words over in his head and it appeared as if they were at an impasse. His eyes flickered to the skin on her arm that was now a faint shade of purple. It made him feel uneasy. It forced him to push the next words out of his mouth. “Fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he let go of her.

“Got any ideas that improve mankind’s chances of survival?” He mocked.

Arya was done playing brave for the day. She’d take what small victories she could get; no matter how pathetic they were. Arm throbbing, she refrained from massaging it. She wouldn’t let him see her in pain. Instead, she walked back to her board. With her back facing him, she spoke, “What if we found a way to neutralise the threat?”

-/-/-/-

 Troy was curious about her. He had a knack of figuring out people; whether they were built for this world, whether they adapted to it or whether they were weak and would perish. He had ruled out the last option the instant he saw her eyes; full of fury and fight. Her mind worked in strange ways. She spoke so clinically – similar to how he and his men spoke about the walkers…but then he had also noticed the sneer of disgust she directed towards himself and his men. It was clear she didn’t approve of them experimenting on humans –but it wasn’t due to her having some kind of moral compass…no, it was due to her simply thinking his experiments were unnecessary. That had pissed him right off.

He had also noted, that aside from her surly behaviour, she hadn’t caused any disruption to the camp and their activities. She didn’t fit in with them but he wasn’t sure she fitted in with the ‘good guys’ either.  He chuckled to himself as he wondered what Jake would make of her. It made him grin broader as he considered what she would think of Jake. He didn’t think she would be impressed.

“Troy,” Mike called, snapping Troy out of this train of thoughts. “We’ve just driven past a couple of the wasted.”

Arya scoffed as she met Troy’s gaze in the rear view mirror.

“If he wasn’t so damn busy grinning to himself like a lunatic…”

Troy’s smile dropped and his eyes glared furiously at her, “Getting brave again are we?” he threatened. Arya narrowed her gaze at him but didn’t reply. Instead, she slammed his car door shut once she’d gotten out. Troy scowled deeply. “You need to be careful with her.” He warned as he closed the door gently himself. He thought he heard her stifle a laugh but then she was gone in a flash.

“Mike-” He started to yell but his words caught in his throat as he simply stared ahead. He didn’t know if it was the glow of the moon or the streaks of blood on her face but as she swung her machete around, it occurred to him that she looked like a demon. Her movements were swift and fluid as she hacked the arms off a walker. Ducking and swinging behind it, she kicked it to the floor. Twisting the walker around, she held its head down as she finished the job of breaking its jaw clean off.

“I wasn’t really needed here was I?” Mike asked, turning to Troy. Before Troy could reply, Arya stalked to the two of them and snatched the shackles out of Mike’s hands.

“I don’t even want to know why you had these at the base.” She grimaced as she cuffed the Walker’s neck.

An easy smirk graced Troy’s face, “Need any help, doll?” He teased as he jogged to her. Lifting the Walker by its jacket, he pushed it against a tree and the two of them proceeded to bind it to the tree with rope.

“Now what?” Mike asked but she hushed him abruptly.

“Listen…” she mumbled.

A long minute of silence later, Mike asked, “To what?”

Troy hadn’t taken his eyes off Arya as they waited in silence. Her eyes flickered to his and he could tell she was measuring him. His smirk twisted deeper as a scowl subtly settled on her features. He had figured out the outcome of their experiment and she didn’t like that.

“Silence, Mike.” Troy barked a laugh, “We’re around a Walker and it’s silent.”

“Yeah cos’ you broke its mouth.” Mike replied tartly. Arya rolled her eyes at how slow he was being.

“What else do Walker mouths do?” she taunted as she sauntered past the both of them. Mike blinked rapidly as he caught onto the premise of their experiment. Troy was already standing in front of the walker, waving his arms around and prodding it with the end of his gun. Mike watched in amazement as the Walker simply stood there, unresponsive. It appeared docile - Completely unthreatening.

“What now?!” He shouted to Arya.

“The dead walkers around the perimeter of the base act as a repellent, right? Well now you’ve got a portable repellent.” Her replies were deadpanned but Troy could see the flint of excitement in her eyes from a mile off.

Mike grinned as he realised how advantageous this discovery was. “We could have a bunch of them alive and surrounding the perimeter of the ranch!” He spoke quietly as he jogged back to the car alongside Troy. As the pair got in, Troy glanced back at Arya. His eyes appraised her as she stared back boldly. “You’ve earned your keep.” He smirked, making her scoff bitterly. Her features turned sour and an unexpected chuckle left his lips. He found he liked that look of irritation across her face. Then as she sent a seething glare at Mike for snickering along, Troy realised he liked it better when she directed her annoyance solely at him.

-/-/-/-

 It started fairly innocently at first. Troy would go check on what Arya was working on at 3pm every day. He’d often find her surrounded by pads of paper and her arms would invariably be covered in smudges of biro ink. Her dark hair would always be tied in a messy bun atop her head and she’d always wear the same clothes; cargo trousers and a black tank top.  On the third day he noticed how expressive her eyes were, especially when she was pissed at him. On the fifth, he noticed her lips were rather plump. He didn’t know whether it was natural or whether they were simply swollen because she kept biting them so much. He noticed other things too and he took note of it. Her behaviour intrigued him. She kept away from his guys, choosing instead to sit alone in her make shift lab or walking the grounds of the base. She didn’t speak much to him either, unless he forced conversation. He found he didn’t like that…so he tried another tactic; riling her up really seemed to do the trick.

He also realised he got rather competitive, despite being the one who started their spats. She threw a book at him during one of their more heated arguments.

“You’re unhinged and something tells me you were like this before the world went to shit. So what happened huh? Mommy left you? Daddy didn’t love you enough? Did they smack you around a little? So now you walk around murdering humans? Don’t be such a pathetic cliché, Troy”

“What right do you have to talk to me about family when you weren’t even strong enough to protect your own? You pretend to be strong Arya, but the truth is you’re as weak as they come. Why are you so bothered about surviving? What do you even have to live for?”

Her words had stung him more than he liked to admit, so he attacked her in the most vicious way he knew how to. He watched her breathing pause for a long second before a book came sailing through the air, aimed directly at his face. He barely managed to duck as the heavy hard back volume grazed his cheekbone and fell to the floor. He saw red. Within seconds he had her slammed against a wall, his palms gripping her shoulders tightly.

“What are you going to do Troy? Leave more bruises on me?” She taunted. Then he felt a sharp blade against his abdomen, forcing him to avert his eyes from hers. His gaze fell to the pen knife in her hands, now pressing into his stomach.

“What’s your plan here?” He asked in a calm voice. “Poke me to death with a pen knife?”

He watched her eyes narrow and then slowly, her hand drifted further down to his crotch. His eyes widened a little in panic before he schooled his features. It was too late though…she had already felt his hard on.

He watched her entire form tense for a short moment before she recovered.

“I’ll cut your dick off if you don’t take your hands off me right now.” She spat, her eyes furious. Clenching his jaw, he pulled back reluctantly. His eyes couldn’t meet hers. His cheeks had started to flush a little and he simply couldn’t allow her to see that. He’d rather get bitten by a Walker than have her know he was embarrassed.

“Get back to work.” He barked and stalked out the room. Belatedly, he realised she had chosen to not mention his arousal. Ten minutes later, as he continued to pace the length of his room, he realised he was still rock hard. Something about her really got to him.