#maybe it won't have been a senseless violence

[priceprime]

Oh vulture take

my sins and make

them sacrifice.

I cannot bear

the thought

Of unmitigated mistakes.

Tear at the flesh

of my flaws, Pick

the bones clean and white.

Take what you must

Whatever can make me

Good enough.

Whatever can make me

Good enough.

[skyahri]

Shock |Kakashi Hatake X Reader|

Summary: An uninvited guest on Kakashi’s doorstep might be a little trouble, but it's worth it in the end.

Warnings: canon compliant violence, mentions of blood and death, reader is in shock, medical equipment.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

"I'm sorry, I um- I don't know why I'm here."

Out of curiosity, Kakashi cracks his front door open just a bit wider so he can get a better look at you. You're in your anbu attire, blood coating your clothes and splattered on your face. Your hands are shaking and you're shifting on your feet. You look manic- pupils blown and an unreadable expression on your face.

"It's kinda funny that I am, though, right? Knocking on your door in the middle of the night, covered in blood like a lunatic."

He peeks out into the hall, but there's no one else. No secondary footprints or chakra residuals. It's just you, like you said, covered in blood like a lunatic.

"You don't even like me and yet I still came here. I could've gone, well, anywhere else. I probably should've gone home... or the Hokage's office."

In your senseless muttering, you had gotten it right- you should've gone somewhere- anywhere- else. Why come here? While he's never been unnecessarily mean, he'd also never been kind to you, and yet here you are, waking him up at three in the morning, talking his ear off in some sort of haze.

"He'll probably want an update on my mission. He has to send a recovery team for the others, too. I think I need a medic before that, though. I hope he doesn't mind waiting."

He furrows his eyebrows at your rambling. You've always been a talker, but never like this. Never this unorganized and rushed, like your only goal was to fill the silence the night brought-

Wait.

"Recovery team?"

"It's kinda cold out don't you think? Usually, we have a few more weeks until it snows, but I think it's coming sooner this year. I've been trying to knit a blanket between missions, but I don't think I'll finish it before-"

You don't answer. You don't even acknowledge that he's said anything at all. You just keep talking. He's not sure what possessed him to do so (maybe it's his trauma responding to your off handed comment about a recovery team), but against better judgement, Kakashi sets his hand on your back and guides you inside his apartment. He locks the door before sitting you at his dining room table and searching around his cupboards for a cloth. He wets it, rings it out, and turns towards you.

"I found some really pretty yarn in Suna last year. Forest green and dandelion yellow and the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. The woman who makes it gave me a pattern for an Afghan, said it's perfect for winter."

He wipes the cloth across your face, folding it over a few times to get as much blood as possible (why was there so much?) before returning to the sink to rinse it out and start again. He notices how you continue to stare straight ahead, completely unbothered by anything he's doing. Your words never falter, not even when he takes a firm hold of your face to make his task easier.

"I have four chakra natures... never really picked up lightning if I'm being honest. Did you know that? Nevermind, you're Kakashi, of course, you know that."

He tosses the rag into the sink and slowly moves to undo your weapon holster. It's light, and a quick peak in the pocket confirms that there's nothing left in there. He sets it aside, not really caring about the red puddle it's creating on the floor. He removes your gloves and kneels to untie your shoes.

"I copied that mudslide you use, by the way. It's crazy... changes the entire course of a battle in a split second. I'd say I hope you won't mind, but I know you will. You always mind when it comes to me."

He had you stand up and ushered you towards his bathroom. He turned on the faucet and tested the water to make sure it was warm. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and tapped your side, hoping that somewhere in your spaced out mind you'd get the hint and undress yourself. Lucky for him, you did, but not without falter.

"Your apartment's nice by the way. Very clean and organized and looks like someone actually lives here. All I have is a bed and a dresser. I don't have much time to appreciate anything else."

The motion was less than graceful. You used one hand to slip the tight fabric over your head and down your left arm, which stayed at your side despite the obstacle it caused. You expertly unclipped your bra and let it fall forward off your shoulders and to the ground, and had your pants and underwear there a second after. He doesn't stare, partially because he's already seen you naked before in the locker room from time to time, and partially because even in his perverted mind, he knows it's not the time.

"When I retire one day like you, I want my apartment to be just as homey. I'll be able to enjoy it since I'll be home longer than a day at a time."

He isn't too sure what to make of the current situation. He's pushing you under the showerhead, absently listening to you drone on, but all he can think about is how off-putting the whole thing is. You'd been in ops for a long time- long enough to not warrant a reaction like this after just any mission. Despite any sort of way he may have felt about you in the past, you've never been one to be affected by the carnage, a quality he's always appreciative of in his teammates. So what the Hell happened?

"My fifteenth anbu anniversary is coming up in December. Owl said he'd throw me a party, but I guess that's not happening anymore."

Your eyes fall from the wall in front of you to the drain on the ground. The water is muddy- the blood, sweat, and tears acquired from a month-long mission being washed away like nothing.

"I don't think I even like parties. I've never had one, which is why he offered in the first place. He wanted to celebrate my birthday, but I wouldn't tell him when it was. Drove him crazy."

Why is he even doing this? He must be losing it, honestly. Standing behind you, washing your hair as his clothes get completely soaked. This isn't something he's ever done, and even now, it's something he could never imagine doing for anyone else. You used to annoy the shit out of him, following him around in your youth and trying to be overly friendly when he clearly wasn't interested. If sixteen-year-old him had seen him in this moment, he'd surely have a fit.

"It's June 2nd, by the way. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. I don't even know why I told you. It's fine. You probably won't remember and even if you do, you aren't much of a gossip."

When the bulk of the debris is cleared away, he finally gets a good look at what's causing you to favor one arm. A gash curves around your shoulder blade and wraps around your torso, going all the way down to your pubic bone. It's deep and jagged, most likely from a dull kunai.

"I bet I'll get a few days off after this. Gai has been pestering me for a while now to try that new cold soba place. I think I'll go. He'll probably ask you to go, which would be nice, especially if Kurenai and Asuma come."

He hands you a soapy washcloth and watches as you diligently clean your hands. It's interesting, the way you scrub under your fingernails and between your fingers. It's probably muscle memory from years of trying to get the image of blood off your hands. He thinks, for only a moment, that maybe you aren't so different from him, you just put up a different front.

"I can't wait to have a nice meal. I'm so fucking sick of the MREs. It's a dumb thing to care about, but I think it's the smaller stuff that matters in this line of work."

He dries your hair before handing you the towel, leaving you to finish it off so he can grab you some clothes, changing his own while he's in there. Just sweats and a tee, and a pair of briefs if you'll take them. He hands you the bottoms first, withholding the top until he can get a better look at the wound.

"We were gone an extra week. My neighbor's gonna lecture me for sure this time. She always worries that I won't come back."

He thought for a moment, debating on whether or not he should outsource your injury. Honestly, even with immediate medical ninjutsu, this severe of an injury, not to mention how old it seems to be, is sure to leave a pretty nasty scar. Jostling you around to get across the village to the hospital may do more harm than good at this point in time.

"She's got three kids. All super loud, but they're really sweet. They think I'm the coolest person in the world, always saying they wanna be like me when they grow up. God, I hope they realize they should want more."

He grabs the first aid kit from the closet in the restroom and pulls up a chair next to his bed. He pushes you face down onto the mattress, your words becoming slightly muffled by his pillow. He's only ever stitched himself, and even then it was just a few here and there, not a hundred.

Your skin is soft compared to his rough hands. You seem like the kind of person to take care of yourself whenever possible, so he supposes it's not too surprising. He almost feels bad, being an accomplice to the desecration of your otherwise flawless body, but there's nothing to be done. All he can do is try and be as precise and delicate as possible and hope the wound heals nicely.

"Kumo is really nice this time of year. They don't have a lot of greenery but their flowers bloom around this time, just before the first snow falls- AH!"

It was like someone woke you up with a bucket of ice water to the face. You flinch hard when he sticks the needle through your skin. The area is tender, obviously, and the not-so-gentle tug of your flesh is enough to knock you out of your shock.

"Ah, there she is."

In the onslaught of your panic, you don't register, well, anything. You start to get up and the fact that you're half naked on his bed goes over your head. Before you can even prop yourself up onto your elbows, he's pushing your body down, large hands taking up the majority of your uninjured back.

"Relax. You're gonna fuck up the clotting if you keep squirming like that."

You lower yourself, but can't seem to loosen up at all. The blood loss and adrenaline crash are making your head spin. You feel sick and disoriented, and can't seem to to get a grip.

"Seriously, relax. Can't do what I need to if you keep freaking out."

You try to focus on his hands. They're rough from years of training, calloused, and strong as any other man would be, but the way he rubs his thumb back and forth over your spine is soft and doting. Years of unfamiliarity and pushback have left you hardly knowing him at all, but even you can tell this is his way of saying he's calm, and you should be too. Kakashi is a reasonable man, and it's safe to lower your guard around him.

When your breathing evens, he continues with the sutures as if it were nothing, emitting the same energy someone would put towards sudoku. Without the cushion of shock and adrenaline, you can feel how serious the wound really is. You push the unsettling feeling of the cool air against your exposed muscle to the back of your brain, preferring to instead lean into the warmth of his comforter. It has a more natural, woodsy, type of scent, similar to the shampoo he'd washed your hair with.

Kakashi is completely immersed in his work. He still has a ways to go, but he's rather pleased with his progress. Even spacing and perfectly taught, Rin would surely be proud.

"You're different."

He's caught off guard when you speak. If he's being honest, he assumed you'd somehow managed to fall asleep.

"Retirement has mellowed me out."

You don't respond and he doesn't bother to continue the conversation. The silence is comfortable. You hadn't talked to him in over a year, and even before that you were never on friendly terms, but the warmth in the air would lead an outsider to believe you were close.

It isn't long before he's offering you a hand and guiding you into a sitting position. He tugs a black shirt over your head and you pull your arms through, wincing at the stretch of your stitches. Your eyes go to the smear of red on your stomach, and subsequently the bedding. You absentmindedly thumb over the stain on his dark blue duvet cover.

"Don't worry about it. Just lie back down so I can finish the front."

You're too tired to argue with him, so you comply. He's leaning over you now that the injured side isn't directly facing him. His arms are warm against your skin and you have a better view of his face. Of course, he's still wearing that stupid mask, but you can easily make out the contours of his nose and lips. He's entirely focused, eyebrows pulled together and eyes fixed in front of him.

You hiss when he gets to the indent of your hip, knicking the bone. Your hand reaches to stop his, carelessly ignoring the fact that there's a needle sticking out of your skin. He looks up at you- your eyes are squeezed shut and your breathing is heavy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"'s fine. Just need a second."

He sets the needle driver down and splays his now free hand against your midriff. He's concerned for your comfort, a quality he wasn't aware he had, but that he apparently holds for you. He isn't even sure what he's doing with all of these subtle touches and acts of affection. Yesterday, you were just an annoying girl from his past, not too unlike Gai, and now he's finding himself losing his aloofness in favor of a more intimate moment.

Your hand eventually slides down his, gripping the juncture between his thumb and forefinger, a subtle sign that you're ready, before you fold your arms above your head.

He squeezes your side and resumes his previous position. He's more careful this time, not that he wasn't before. He's done within ten minutes, finishing it off with some dressings and tugging down your his shirt. He tugs the blanket out from under you and goes to grab the spare. It's a quick swap, the dirty one getting tossed in the general vicinity of his washer and the clean one is lazily thrown over you.

He starts to say something, but shuts his mouth when he notices you sleeping. You finally look peaceful. Your lips are chapped, your hair's a mess, and you're paler than usual, but peaceful nonetheless.

He sways his head side to side to side as he contemplates his next move. He could certainly just wait it out and situate himself on the couch with a book until you woke up. Or, he could do what Kurenai would call 'the chivalrous thing to do' and continue to care for you.

With a sigh, he summons Pakkun, who appears in a puff of smoke.

"You think you can keep an eye on her while I take care of some business?"

"You got it boss."

- - - - -

Your eyes felt heavy. It took more willpower than you'd care to admit to force them open, and even more to lift your hands to rub the sleep away. The soreness that spread across your shoulder and hip quickly reminded you where you were and what had happened.

You sat up and swung your feet over the side of Kakashi’s bed, planting them on the floor and setting your face in your hands. You hear footsteps, but don't bother to look up. Your head is swimming, your stomach is in knots, and your body is fighting to not collapse.

"Dinner is almost ready if you're up to it."

"I have to give my report before I can even think of anything else-"

"No need. It's already been handled."

You lift your head to give him a confused look, and that's when you see it. He's a bit uneasy, shuffling awkwardly until he's leaning against the door frame. He won't meet your gaze and you can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

"Handled?"

"I informed Lord Third of your return. He said not to bother with your full report until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

You turned your gaze back to the floor and sighed in relief, but the feeling didn't last as you began a rather fast paced descent into madness. You mulled over all the events of the day and couldn't help but think of all the things you should've done differently. You should've taken first watch. You should've forced an opening to send someone, or even a summoning, to get back up. You should've said no when the others wanted to camp for the night and insisted on moving forward.

But you didn't, and now the people you spent nearly every day of the past three years with paid the price, slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

While you had never been one to grow unnecessarily fond of your teammates in the past, you couldn't deny the personal affection you'd acquired for your team over the years. It was stupid to get so attached to people who signed up for a job that damn near guarantees death, but you couldn't help it. Not when Sato was convinced that the person responsible for his meal rations had it out for him by giving him all the worst options. Not when Kaito was complaining about another failed date that he definitely ruined by being, well, himself. Not when Yue always made the time to nicely braid your hair after an impromptu bath in the lake.

Especially not when they all went out of their way to ensure you that you were valued and loved.

Kakashi can't see your face, but he doesn't need to. The slight tremble of your frame and the shakiness of your breath tell him all he needs to know. Despite how uncharacteristically nice and patient he's been today, he's still not used to actually caring for people outside of just making sure they don't die. So he does the only thing he can think of and sets his heavy, uncoordinated dog paw of a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, much like he'd do for his ninken.

"Relax."

You can't help but snicker at the action. It's awkward, so much so that you can feel it radiating through his skin. Unlike him, though, you are very well versed in this area. You rub your hands down your face, drying any tears that may have fallen, and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his firm stomach. He tenses but doesn't make any effort to move. Eventually, you feel his rigid hold on your head loosen, his fingers grazing across your scalp and then running through your hair.

"You suck at comforting people, you know?"

"It worked in the end, didn't it?"

You can't argue with him, not after he had so easily shut down your rapid spiral. Instead, you choose to focus on the moment and can't help but notice how intimate it feels. You're no stranger to physical affection, oftentimes using it to get out of difficult or uncomfortable questions, but never before has it felt like this. It could be that you're wearing his clothes and smell like his soap, or maybe it's the way one of his hands is cupped around the back of your head and pressing you further into his abdomen, but this feeling is definitely different from anything you've experienced up until this point.

Unbeknownst to you, Kakashi is having similar thoughts. His mind is going a thousand miles a minute, trying to push away his avoidant instincts. This past year has given him the opportunity to rewire his brain to be less... guarded, and he's hardly done anything with the newfound sense of freedom. Sure, he's managed to salvage his friendships, but even that much was due to other people's persistence, and not his own doing.

Maybe, just maybe, there's something specific about you. This entire experience has been ridiculously natural. You look like you belong in his apartment, in his clothes. Talking to you doesn't feel forced and there's not that weight he usually associates with social interaction. It's almost like you belong-

"Kakashi?"

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He shifts his gaze down to see you peering up at him. He gives a slight hum to acknowledge you.

"Weren't you cooking?"

Cursing himself under his breath, he pulls back, his hands sliding out of your hair and along the underside of your jaw. He quickly makes his way back into the kitchen, shutting off the stove and removing the pan from the burner. You follow after him and sit at his table. It's funny, really, the way he haphazardly moves around the kitchen like he's never touched a pan before. You shouldn't laugh at him, not after he's been so good to you, and especially because you probably wouldn't fare much better.

He set a plate in front of you and your face instantly lights up. You clap your hands together and thank him profusely for the food. It's quiet for a while. You're enjoying your first real meal in weeks and he's giving you the space to do so.

It's hard to ignore the looks he keeps sending your way. You avoid looking directly at him to preserve the bits of his face that his cupped hand doesn't cover, but you can still feel the holes burning into your skull. You know what he wants, and to be honest, you're surprised. It seems Kurenai was right with that off-handed comment a few months ago- Kakashi had become rather nosey in recent times. Or, maybe, he's always been keen to information, but due to his particular place in the ranks, he's never had to ask for it before.

Growing more uncomfortable under his gaze and sensing he won't be the one to break the ice, you take the initiative.

"Why'd you let me in?"

"I'm trying to be more receptive to people's efforts at friendship."

You nod. You were once on the receiving end of his less-than-amicable approach, and you were glad he was actually allowing people in after everything that happened in his youth.

"Why come here?"

You sigh, nervously running your hands up and down your thighs. Honestly, you hadn't been very present-minded when you knocked on his door last night. The journey back to the village was hard to recall. Even the few hours you spent awake with Kakashi earlier were blurry.

Every other time you've needed someone in the past, you've turned to Kurenai. It was easy to unwind around her. You didn't have to think about anything, just letting her force feed you snacks from a variety of vendors and drag you around to different shops.

That's not always enough, though, and even if you pretend it is, there's always a part of you that seeks out something more. Apparently, last night you had sought out that something.

"Sometimes... it's nice to be around people who understand,"

Kakashi nods. He's been on the receiving end of said behavior, and he knows exactly how exhausting it can be.

"Don't get me wrong, Kurenai and Gai are great, but... they ask so many questions. There's a big difference between regular Shinobi work and ANBU, especially with what I do, and it's just, I don't know. I just don't usually want to talk about the details."

"I get it."

Even though Kakashi is obviously curious, he doesn't pry. He really does get it. Constantly being asked if you're okay, if you wanna talk about it, being offered a shoulder to cry on- it's kind, but it gets old after a while. Especially when you're just trying to spend the limited free time you have as a person and not just an off duty shinobi.

"Can I ask you personal questions? Or are you gonna get all angsty on me?"

"Angsty? I'm not angsty,"

One pointed look from you is all it takes for him to cave.

"Yeah, yeah, just ask your damn questions."

"How's retirement?"

It's kind of complicated. He should be training genin right now, but he sank that ship before it even left the dock. Poor kids didn't even make it a day before they were right back in the academy. Or wait, could you mean personally? That's probably at least a little complicated, too. There's been a lot of change for him this past year, but that doesn't really mean much compared to others when you're practically crawling at the ripe age of twenty-four.

"I'm only asking how you've been doing, Kakashi, there's no need to fret."

He must've taken too long to answer. That's why you're filling in the blanks for him. He should feel embarrassed, but he doesn't. Your teasing tone is enough to subdue any negative connotations your interruption may have offered. Honestly, he's more so just confused as to how you knew exactly what he was thinking.

"... I have a lot of free time."

Man, you really do have to walk him through everything, huh?

"Is that a good thing?"

He shrugs and mulls over it for a moment.

"I'm used to being busy. It's just difficult to get used to. I imagine you'll have an even harder time adjusting once you retire."

"Why's that?"

"You've spent nearly your entire life in ANBU. The cool down from that is gonna be hard after it's been ingrained so deeply."

He's right about that. You'd joined at just seven years old, hadn't even been a genin a year.

"Do personal questions go both ways?"

"I don't see why not."

"Why'd they recruit you so early?"

Damn, he really went right for it. You swallowed hard. Your fingers drummed lightly on the pair of pants he'd lent you.

"It was the only way Lord Third could keep me out of root."

Oh God. Root. Kakashi knew all about Danzo and his followers, courtesy of Tenzo, of course. That place was disgusting and cruel. It was a wonder why it hadn't been shut down already.

"I'm not very smart, so I didn't stick out in the academy, but once I got onto the field and found my calling... let's just say Danzo had taken an interest in me."

Oh, Kakashi knows exactly what you're talking about. It's true. You couldn't do a henge or substitution jutsu to save you're life, but you made up for it tenfold. It's only fitting that the person dubbed 'Calamity' in bingo books be a force of nature, right? You had an abundance of chakra and raw strength that only Tsunade could parallel. All the jutsu you knew were hard hitters- mudslides, tornadoes, tsunamis- anything massive that didn't require a lot of concentration, you could pull off.

"It's fine, though. My fighting style isn't exactly useful on standard missions. Too much collateral damage."

You manage a laugh. It's a little awkward, but genuine nonetheless. Most people get a bit stiff when talking about your unorthodox recruitment, but you don't hold the same sentiment. You'd lucked out with an amazing team right off the bat. They were all men in their late teens and early twenties, eager to take you in as their little sister and raise you into a fine shinobi.

"Why’d you get recruited?"

"Me? Minato-sensei had some personal tasks for me."

"Oh yeah? Is that your mysterious way of saying you were solely recruited for baby duty?"

Now that had taken him aback.

"How did you-"

You, apparently, knew the couple very well. How that fact got past Kakashi all this time is beyond him. You told him about the first time you met Kushina- how she cried because the chest plate on your uniform was too big for little seven-year-old you. You told him about how Minato tried desperately to free you from ANBU during his reign, but couldn't find any loopholes that'd keep you away from Danzo. How they'd sometimes run into you on the street and offer to take you to dinner.

Kakashi shared his own stories of his sensei and his wife, which, in extension, got him to talk about Rin and Obito. Before either of you knew it, it'd been several hours. The last rays of sunshine had disappeared in the midst of your discussion some time ago. The pain of your injuries had dulled and were pushed to the back of your mind, buried in the new found connection.

He hadn't felt that stress-free in decades. There was no pressure when he was talking to you, even when it came to the people he lost. You were just... talking. No prying, no judging, no eggshells- just talking.

It was easy to admit that Kakashi was different from the others. The conversation had revived memories you hadn't even realized existed. This is what was lacking in all of your other encounters- depth. Screw mission details and gossip. These were the kinds of things you wanted to spend your time mulling over.

"Kakashi?"

"Hm?

You smiled at him and he swears his heart might be failing him. It's so soft and genuine, the kind of smile that soul mates share with one another.

"Thank you... for everything."

He doesn't respond. Actually, no more words are spoken between you two as you ready yourself to leave his apartment. There's a peaceful silence as you gather your belongings and head to the door.

When you're finally standing on his welcome mat, you decide that it's now or never with him. Maybe you're being a bit bold, but the Copy Nin is exclusively difficult to connect with and you aren't about to take any chances.

"When Gai inevitably invited you out to dinner-"

"I'll go."

That was surprisingly easy.

Another one of those beautiful smiles lights up your face at his response. He knows that whatever is going to come of this is sure to be troublesome, but he can't find it in himself to care.

"Good."

And just like that you're walking away.

[artbyblastweave]

Heroify: Kingpin

Compared to some of the other characters people have sent in today this is like shooting monkeys in a barrel!

Part of the reason Fisk is such a good Daredevil villain is that he's already got a lot of the basic elements you need to make a street-level hero work- the will, the drive, the protectiveness, the territoriality, and the quote-unquote "badass normal" peak human fighting ability that, let's not fuck around here, is absolutely a superpower even if the chickenshit writers won't directly admit to that. It's just that he uses those abilities to be a crime boss rather than to fight crime bosses. To put himself in charge of his childhood bullies instead of fighting his bullies. A classic case of "If only he'd used his immense capacity for interpersonal violence for good." What would make him stand out from all the other heroes in his niche is his propensity for Empire-building, his complete inability not to build up some kind of organization from scratch, and what that impulse might look like in a superheroic context.

I'm imagining that his initial schtick is that of a Bully Hunter. After getting ripped and wiping the floor with his childhood bullies-or maybe this is one of the versions who offed his own father for beating on his Mother- he embraces the specific high of the "pick on someone your own size" routine, and he becomes The Big Man, the guy you go to when you need somebody who's been getting away with something for a while cut down to size. Upstairs neighbor is beating his wife and kid senseless, and nobody does anything because his brother's a cop? Call The Big Man. Real Estate Baron's using his connections to try to muscle out the residents of a tenement? The Big Man's gonna pay them a visit. Boss at the diner's withholding your paychecks and getting away with it because you're undocumented? You get where this is going. He usually doesn't kill people- not out of any particular code, but out of a combination of pragmatism and sadism. He's smart enough to engineer situations in a way that he can claim self-defense or frame someone's tumble down the stairs as an unfortunate accident or rely on the unexamined illegality of whatever his target was doing to prevent them from getting the police involved. He's got a bit of a financial cushion, as well, because all of this is actually his side gig- he's still a very successful, if not as cutthroat, local businessman, because hospitalizing domestic abusers doesn't pay the bills. As a power move, he does most of this under his own name- he's got a "costume" in the form of the distinct suit, and a nominal codename, but part of the bit, part of the point he's making, is that he's slightly better at weaseling out of the consequences of his actions than the people he targets. Always a bigger fish, after all. Power is relative. His thematic niche is distinct from Daredevil's abstract sense of idealized justice. It's not Frank Castles mechanical eye-for-an-eye approach. It's about the satisfaction of leaving a certain category of wrongdoer alive, so that they can remain very, very afraid.

Of course, since his entire bit is that he keeps putting untouchable assholes in fullbody casts, the attempts on his life start stacking up- First it's Ed the domestic abuser and his buddies from the bar coming around for a rematch, and then goon squads, then hand ninjas, then low-rent supervillains- and because The Big Man toes the line of being an actual superhuman, he's usually winning these things, and coming out ahead in the PR game for beating down a bunch of costumed thugs attacking his Perfectly Legitimate Art Gallery- but it's a pain that his office keeps getting firebombed. And this is where you start to reap the benefits of having done under-the-table favors for hundreds of people all over New York- The Big Man has a network now. The Big Man knows guys who knows guys, some of whom owe him favors, some of whom are just really afraid of him coming back for round two. The Big Man can pull together a hundred guys with crowbars and hammers on a day's notice, if he happens to need something like that. If he doesn't know someone with a backdoor into Tombstone's fortified penthouse or Hammerhead's mansion, if he doesn't know someone with incriminating information on Silvermane or Norman Osborn, well. He knows their cousin. And once he thinks to begin leveraging this? If the people escalating things have specific addresses, by the end of the week they very likely don't.

It's not as if he eliminates all criminal activity. He's not even interested in doing so. Like half the painting's he's selling are really convincing forgeries. But things hit a point where there's simply a hard practical limit on how imperial a supercriminal's ambitions in New York can become, how domineering, how visible to the man on the street, before The Big Man decides it's time to make a point and starts calling people, who in turn start calling people.

[eldritch-spouse]

How would the Clergy guys react to someone abandoning their pet at the clergy? Like their pet is well behaved and a sweetheart but they have gotten bored and have decided to leave them at the clergy so they don’t have to deal with them their self?

🍄anon

[Could have abandoned the pet on any regular street, which is already awful enough, but why not go the extra mile and release it in a place notorious for senseless violence and bad people? *Wheezing*]

Morell doesn't have time for this. Get it out of his kitchen, asap. Even if he used to deal with animals plenty when he was younger, his schedule is far too busy now, he can't keep it back home and he sure as Hell can't keep it in the kitchen at The Clergy. This will be promptly thrust onto someone else or he'll personally place the abandoned outside the perimeter of the building.

Listen, if it's not equine, Patches likely doesn't care all that much. He definitely doesn't want it in his lab. Likewise, he's often too much of a hot mess to keep an animal that isn't something both him and Stitches are fixated on, so this is also being dumped on someone else.

Gallon is somewhat averse to germs, and that applies here. He doesn't know where this animal has been and he shares no fondness for it, so it's more likely the slime will attempt to contain it. At the same time that he's not very keen on interacting with it, he also won't allow others to hurt it. This will soon become Admin's problem.

Not going to lie, Grimbly sees that thing and immediately ponders if it could be a potential snack. Then reminds himself it likely won't taste that good. The animal is quickly caught regardless because of hunting instincts he can't quell, but ultimately, he's also putting this on someone else.

Santi truly holds no malice for animals, but they just don't like him... He tries to shoo the little thing outside as smoothly as possible, and if he fails, he tries to get Grimbly to catch it so they can, once again, take this to more capable hands. It sometimes saddens him that cute animals will avoid him.

Would you trust any living being with Vinnel? No, of course not. He probably doesn't get to be anywhere near the animal before someone else rips it away from him. Fortunately, Vinnel's overwhelming hatred and desire to maim extends only to people, so it's not as if the animal would be in terrible hands. If he manages to grab it, he'll bring it on stage depending on how docile it is.

Belo is an angel. In spite of being a warrior, he still attracts and calms animals with ease. Once spotted, Belo will attempt to approach the animal and get it within his grasp. He will then request to see Admin as soon as he can so the power can ask to fly this animal to a different location. A shelter, if he's informed of where those generally are.

Nebul is the most apt monster to deal with this, and more often than not, the person the others bring found animals to. He can usually get a grip on the situation easily and has little trouble babysitting until something can be done about the situation. Besides, Purpur loves new friends! Maybe, if things line up, Nebul will adopt it.

Fank-e, Gods help him, is just painful to animals. He's huge, very loud, very flashy and fast. No animal likes that. He'll spend his time chasing after it only to either fail at catching it, inflict ridiculous amounts of collateral damage on his surroundings, or give the poor thing a heart attack when he catches it. He would try to keep it, but the chances of that poor pet living in constant misery are high, so other staff members remove it.

Listen. If it's small and wandering around all lost, it's a snack. Said pet would last very little around Sybastian, and that's that on that.

You know Krulu would probably would make the ground swallow that thing. You'll never see it again, who knows what happened to it.

[aficionadoenthusiast]

hi! i also love comedy! any chance we could get some more funny fic recs?

yes, absolutely!

pjo

sorry, don't have a ton of these, I tend to read more serious fics for this fandom

keeping it fruity by buoyantsaturn; valgrace, T, 4k; Leo is both so relatable and so silly, I love it

Leo huffed. “Sorry, I just don’t think I can support such senseless violence,” he grumbled, knowing that all of the excuses he and Nico had come up with over the last few years would be useless by that point. “What is a sport, really, if not an excuse to beat some stranger to a pulp?”

sex education by CordeliaRose; solangelo, E & M, 5-20k; I'm not normally a fan of smut, so if this one got me to read smut, you know it's good

Percy tries to give Nico a sex talk. It goes about as well as anyone could have predicted.

marvel

shelter order by deniigiq; team red, G, 46k; team red quarantine group chat fic, need I say more?

Little Spidey (Pink): Hello Twitter. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Spiderman has decided that we should share with you all our private chat. We will be doing so on the condition that y’all remain cool about it. You gonna be cool? (Peter decides to raise spirits of those in isolation by sharing parts of the Team Red chat online day by day.)

Fishing Isn’t Fair to the Fish by NezumiPi; defenders, T, 17k; I was not expecting this one to have so much humor. or an exorcism.

Spoilers for Defenders S1 and prior individual shows. In a magnificent display of poor judgment, Luke Cage invites the Defenders on an upstate fishing trip in they can get to know one another better and perhaps smooth over some minor interpersonal conflicts. Contains (in no particular order): Minor interpersonal conflicts, major interpersonal conflicts, moderate impersonal conflicts, Danny Rand’s undergarments, porn for the blind, misuse of pharmaceuticals, talking swans, occasional fishing, and some seriously unpleasant business.

Mr. Stark's Home for Idiot Teenagers by OffToNewPastures; Iron family, T, 98k; tbh it's been so long since I read this one that I don't remember what it's about, but I have it marked as funny, so here you go

Peter is there, slumped over the kitchen island, slowly cramming spoonfuls of Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp into his mouth, hair tousled and sticking up every which way, and Tony realizes with sudden clarity that he’s fighting a losing battle. Maybe not today, maybe he can put it off for a while, but someday he’s just going to have to give up and love this ridiculous kid. - In which Tony Stark learns object lessons about love, sacrifice, death, friendship, and parenthood; and makes his peace with the unfortunate reality that his penthouse will be crawling with asshole teenagers every weekend for the foreseeable future. Follows canon...loosely. Ahem.

Chaotic Peter by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so; Iron family, T, 15-20k; this one is hilarious and painful and gripping and so so beautiful, and it has a logical path to the Iron family trope that doesn't make me cringe. I stayed up to 5 am on a weekday reading it. No regrets. (My note on ao3: "Reread first story to laugh until you cry, reread second part to feel something," if anyone was doubting how I feel about this fic.)

"Is there a reason you're calling this late at night?" Tony asks, worried in spite of himself. "Tell me what's going on, kid." “Everything is one-hundred-percent fine,” Peter says. “Seriously, I've never been better. But I should let you know I have about thirty bricks of cocaine in my bedroom. Also, Karen won't let me turn off Instant Kill Mode. Also, Walmart discontinued my special razzleberry pink squeezy lemonade. Which isn't related to tonight's patrol, I'm just bummed about it.”  Or: The five times Instant Kill Mode is activated +1

Super Duper Side Effects by awesomesockes, whumphoarder; Avengers, T, 16k; most mcu fans probably recognize this one and know it's hilarious

The downside of an enhanced metabolism is that it renders most drugs completely ineffective. Captain America accepted this long ago as an occupational hazard. But after Peter sustains a serious injury in the line of duty and the doctors have no way to manage the pain, Steve decides to volunteer as a test subject for Bruce and Tony’s experimental super drug. However, the soldier ends up getting a little more than he bargained for. (Alternative title: Original Drug Tester: Steve Rogers)

Obligatory mention of the fic that caused this ask:

in technicolor by deniigiq; Marvel's various NYC vigilantes & Brett Mahoney, not rated (I'd give it a T), 120k; again. the observor pov gives the idea of wildlife being studied in their natural habitat, and it is so. fucking. funny.

Brett sighed and looked down at the folder in his hand. “Your name is Peter, right?” “Lawyer.” “Peter, we haven’t even started talking. Let’s just take a minute to ease up.” “Lawyer.” “Bud, we haven’t charged you with a crime. This is just talking.” “Law. Yer.” Goddamn. (Brett's encounters with Team Red/vigilantes and their weird fucking way of helping)

hp

Still Preoccupied... With 1979 by darkbluedark; drarry (+jily & wolfstar), T, 15-20k; pre drarry accidental time travel hanging onto their rivalry for convenience? hilarious.

It’s May 1979 and the Order has just apprehended a pair of mysterious wizards who look remarkably like a Potter and a Malfoy. Naturally, James Potter and Sirius Black are called in to identify the strangely familiar strangers and determine their backgrounds and loyalties. (This would be a lot easier if their captives weren’t convinced everyone they talk to is dead. It would also be easier if they didn’t spend half their bloody time bickering.)

sirius black and the "mystery girl" by tjmcharg; wolfstar, T, 29k; heteronormativity but for humor reasons

"You can't tell me who you're with?" Lily smiles at him hopefully. Sirius laughs. "Alright Evans, if you're so curious, I have a proposition for you" "We'll set up a little bet, you have until the end of the school year - so two months - to work out who I'm dating, or..." he pauses to think and with an evil smirk decides, "or you have to ask your crush out on a date."

pair of tossers with a cat by moonymoment; wolfstar, G, 10k; a cat nearly destroys them. in the middle of a war.

Something seemed to dawn on Remus then; something so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. He frowned and looked at Sirius quizzically. “What?” “Are you…” Remus began, gaping slightly, “jealous of the cat, Sirius?” Sirius looked down. “I’m not jealous of the cat.” “You’re jealous of the cat!” “I am not jealous of the bloody cat.” Remus finds a stray cat on the street and brings it in. Sirius is not impressed. Chaos ensues.

(fuck jkr. for those of you who don't know me.)

(if y'all have any especially funny fics you wanna share, i would not be opposed 👀) (especially marvel and pjo 👀👀)

[theamityelf]

In Chapter 2 of the Mini THH AU, the motive is that whoever kills next, their kouhai gets to go home. In this case, we lose Ibuki and Sonia, because Sayaka and Byakuya both really want to go home.

Basically, Sayaka and Byakuya arrange for Ibuki and Sonia to meet up, and it could turn out with Ibuki killing Sonia or Sonia killing Ibuki, but I'm going to say Sonia kills Ibuki (again, with tons of orchestration from Byakuya). I won't say that the murder is entirely deliberate or entirely accidental. The premeditation is 100% coming from the kouhais in this case, but as far as the action itself, I don't think it would be very interesting if Sonia was fully tricked into it (or if Ibuki would have been), so maybe she was tempted at the last minute, and/or acted impulsively. In fact, this hint that, under the right circumstances, either or both of them could be swayed to senseless violence can be foreshadowing for the Remnants reveal.

For his part, Byakuya does care about Sonia, and he tries to help her get away with it. If Nagito finds out about it early on, he also probably helps. (Sayaka and Makoto bonding because Nagito is hiding them both, lol.) But of course Sonia gets caught, and once she's a lost cause, Byakuya outs his own involvement by basically going, "Oh, too bad. So, I was told I'd get to leave now."

(Listen, Byakuya is four inches tall. He's scared. He's been cool about it this whole time, because he would rather die than look rattled, but he is very vulnerable and he will do anything to get out of this situation.)

But of course, Monokuma is like, "I said the kouhai gets to leave; I didn't say the kouhai gets to leave right away! Puhuhu!"

Instead of Mikan, Sonia turns Byakuya over to Gundham, because she likes and trusts him, meaning Byakuya is stuck with Toko, and Gundham has to manage things with one kouhai chasing/stalking the other. I'm sure he can handle it; he's dealt with worse from the hamsters.

At the end of the chapter, Gundham now has Toko and Byakuya, and Mikan has Chihiro, Hifumi, Taka, and Sayaka.

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

I won't ever pretend to know more about this subject than I do, but I am BEGGING fellow progressives to stop equating Hamas with the innocent Palestinians they themselves subjugate, and using that grossly inaccurate and offensive framework to ultimately create a subtext that justifies violence against innocent jewish people by equating it with revolutionary acts. There is no violence against any innocents of any kind in this situation that is or was justified, that should not be mourned and treated with horror.

This kind of shit is causing kids on tiktok to call the terrorists of 9/11 revolutionaries. They are, as we speak, twisting that violence into something noble, because this kind of rhetoric has been wielded inappropriately.

Just because you have college level tools of rhetoric to discuss systems of oppression doesn't mean you should be blindly equating every terrible situation you become aware of through one single framework and deny the many different levels of it when they don't fit. It takes real hard work to learn about, discuss, and unpack the israel/palestine conflict in a way that captures the true scope of it. No, I am not implying that the complex nature of it justifies genocidal acts, so do not mistake me. I am saying that blithe, quippy twitter bullshit is not it. Speaking without knowledge can be reckless and has the potential to do more harm than good.

It is possible to condemn the actions of the israeli government, to speak of the magnitude of its actions, without doing things like this. Take responsibility for how you speak and act. Recognize that there are actual dead and dying people at the heart of this, there are real people mourning and fighting on the ground, and there are minorities across the world who could be impacted by senseless, righteous statements emboldening violence against them, and maybe treating that with a sense of respect, carefulness, and hesitance rather than twitter hot takes is, for once, perhaps a more appropriate way of dealing with such a crisis.

[nightwings-robin]

having some feelings about Joe Chill in this Chili's tonight.

I often hate how Joe Chill and the Wayne murders are handled, specifically when it's part of some bigger grand scheme as opposed to just a regular everyday mugging and how that relates to Bruce as a character. I feel like something is lost when Thomas and Martha are killed because of some conspiracy or whatever. I think it takes away from one of the core reasons why Bruce became Batman in the first place.

like it's supposed to be a random act of senseless violence! not some huge conspiracy with a secret group controlling Gotham or because of some mob connection. I don't want Joe Chill to be in the Court of Owls or be a Talon or a hired hit-man or to be a mob boss or or or

I think Joe Chill works best as a character and plot device when he is simply a guy who needed some quick cash and robbed the first wealthy people he saw. (maybe killing them was an accident or maybe he did mean to kill all three but didn't realize that he didn't have enough bullets for Bruce. idk haven't figured that part out yet)

it doesn't have to be any more grand than that!

Bruce became Batman so that he could stop random acts of violence from tearing families apart. so that no one else has to watch their loved ones get murdered right in front of them.

that is the core of what he does and why he does it.

making his parents be the target of the Owls or the mob or whatever kind of takes that away imo.

AND ANOTHER THING

I don't like when stories have Bruce figure out who killed his parents. I like it to be a mystery! I like the irony of Bruce being the World's Greatest Detective but the one case he can't solve is his own.

the irony! the drama! the frustration! the feelings of inadequacy!

he keeps going back to the case. HIS case. trying to find new leads, new evidence, new anything. but there is none! because there was no rhyme or reason to the killings. it was just some guy who needed money. and that could be anyone.

I feel like Bruce never being able to find the guy who killed his parents would actually be better for his character growth than if he ever was able to confront Joe Chill. it would push him harder to want to be a better detective. it would give him more drive! like yeah I do want him to have some closure and some solace but I also have a lot of feelings about his pursuit of finding his parents killer being ultimately fruitless and bleak.

it could also add a layer to his relationship with his kids, specifically the ones who also have murdered parents. but the thing is, all them who have dead parents know who the killers were. there's no mystery to who killed Dick's parents, or Jason's parents, or Tim's parents. Bruce can relate to them all for having murdered parents but he can't relate to actually having that closer of Who Did It.

it's what drives him to help Dick take down Tony Zucco. it's about the guilt he feels knowing his own friend Harvey Dent killed Jason's father. it's about how he couldn't save Sheila Haywood from the Joker along with Jason. it's about how Jack Drake was killed by a villain that Bruce easily would have taken down had he been there. it's about how he couldn't actually save any of his kids bio parents but has solace knowing that at least they won't lie awake at night wondering who it was that killed them like he's done every single damn day since he was eight years old.

does anyone else have as many thoughts and feelings about Joe Chill as I do???

this post was brought to you by my long tags on this post.

[mycarhasasecret]

Hi. Hope your havin a good day. 🤗🤗 Can i get an hc on the bots reaction to their s/o rescuing them from getting terminated by the cons but dying in the process? Like lets say optimus is exhausted and on the ground with megatron standing over him but s/o comes out and somehow eliminates all vehicons but at the end, she gets hit by dark energon from megatron. What would optimus do then and how would it affect him later on?

Bots: OP, Bee, Smokescreen, Arcee, Rachet.

Oh um if this falls under your suicide rule i completely understand if you don't wanna do this

Thank you! That rule is more to avoid potentially triggering subject matter than anything else, so this ask is fine!

TW: death and mourning

Optimus Prime

-He'd be devastated, but he wouldn't give himself time to mourn in the moment. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the luxury of calling a time out in the middle of the battle.

-He rallies everyone and retreats. This particular energon deposit has cost one life, already. It's not worth risking any more. He's reminded of all the senseless violence this war has wrought upon both human and Cybertronian kind.

-He's wracked with guilt, just like he is about everyone else lost in the war, but more intensely. He's lost his S/O, and now he must live with it. He carries on, as usual, but this loss will linger with him for the rest of his long life.

Bumblebee

-His world is shattered. He can only stare in shock as you fall to the ground, lifeless. He swears he feels his spark crack and shatter in his chest.

-He fights with more vigor than before, barely registering anything he's doing. All he knows is he's angry and scared. All he can do is feel his feelings. All he can do is...what can he do?

-He's angry for a long time. Even after the initial shock is over, and he recovers enough to think level-headedly again, the anger still festers inside him.

Smokescreen

-Somescreen calls out to you, desperate for a response he knows you will not give. He's angry and distressed. He lashes out at anyone unlucky enough to be in his way, but doesn't do much damage with his erratic swings.

-He's dragged off the battle field and through the ground bridge, sobbing the whole way. He's over run with so many feelings he cannot control. He takes a while to calm down.

-This event matures him, ever so slightly. Not much, but...there seems to be something to his personality that's more sober than before. He learns to keep it in, but the anger is still in his spark and pushes him forward in the war.

Arcee

-She screams your name, her worst fears realized right in front of her optics. Another person she loves, gone. The feelings of losing Tailgate and Cliffjumper resurface, coursing their way through her body.

-She fights everyone in front of her, intending to leave no survivors. In addition to Arachnid and Starscream, your murderer's name is on her shit list. Optimus must convince her to retreat with the rest of the team. She's just as resistant as always, but frustratedly yields in the end.

-She won't recover until she gets her revenge. She's hurting, and she's angry. The bitterness inside her grows, and she's more closed off than ever.

Ratchet

-"No," he says, as his optics grow wide with shock and horror. He's not sure what to do with himself. He's frozen in disbelief at what's just happened.

-He needs to get out of there. He should be back at base, where he belongs. Why did he come? Maybe if he'd just stayed behind...Maybe if he hadn't of been in the way...

-You haunt his nightmares, not only as someone he loved more than all the stars in the sky, but also as another patient he couldn't save. It destroys his self esteem, and he grows even more cynical. Hopelessness settles in his spark, and he's not sure even Optimus could convince it to leave.

[raggaraddy]

The Basement: part one

Anon request: Hi can I request an assassin!yoongi one shot where yoongi gets jealous over reader somehow even though I know he isolates her so she depends on him but maybe she somehow stumbles into a colleague of his in his living room or a friend and the friend is 👀 looking not so respectfully

A/N: Enjoy lovely. 💜💜💜 Part two

Summary: For the first time ever there is someone else in the house with you and Yoongi. How could Yoongi expect you to resist speaking with him.

Trigger warnings: Violence, intimidation, kidnapping, imprisonment, yandere themes.

Yoongi

Yandere! Yoongi

Assassin! Yoongi

It may only be a few hundred square meters, but this house is your entire world. You know every creak, every floorboard that squeaked, how each door closes, everything. So in the middle of the night when you are woken by an almighty thump, at once you could recognize how out of place it was.

Cautiously sneaking downstairs and peering around every bend, you are just in time to see Yoongi slamming the basement door shut behind him.

Putting your ear to the entrance, you could hear the sounds of banging, of the chains, of low spoken voices. Over and over in your head, you told yourself to ignore it. To go back to bed and let it be. But the signs that there was another person down there with Yoongi were clear, and the temptation of that was too much to bear.

Your lesser instinct winning out, you open the door, instantly coming face to face with an ascending Yoongi. And behind him, in the place where you had been chained up many times before was a hooded man. Seated on the floor in a slumped position. His hands fixed against the wall keeping them high.

"Out," Yoongi demands, shoving your shoulder lightly to push you back through the doorway.

"Who-" is all you can gape, disbelief printed on your face.

"Not your concern." He refuses, closing the door. Continuing to push you back into the kitchen. "You do not go down there. Am I clear?" A finality to his expression not allowing any room for discussion or expansion.

Nodding, with a small pout you look at the basement one last time before faking a smile and returning to bed.

You were awestricken. Not once in nearly 8 months have you seen or heard another person in this house. Also not during the 6 months stretch before that. No one had visited. Not a single person had come past the house or had even driven up the driveway by accident. Your curiosity was burning you from the inside out. Your longing to see, to speak to another human aching your very soul.

Yoongi had gone into town, leaving you alone with the unlocked basement door. You'd always been chained up if he kept you down there, so it had never needed to be locked before. And the very idea of taking a quick peek was so tantalizing. However, on the more sensible side of this debate, you knew that Yoongi's word was final and you had never disobeyed him before.

You would like to say you were smart enough for this to at least be a difficult decision. But you swiftly threw common sense to the wind and went downstairs the second you heard the car pull out of the garage. Your body buzzing as you approached the new man.

With a heavy breath and timorous movements, you pull the hood back from the man's head. Black, straight, short hair. Dark, full brows, a perfect heart-shaped face, and ears that stuck out just a little too far. From head to toe, he's largely built. Taller and wider than Yoongi, making you astounded to think about how dangerous he really was.

For a few seconds, the both of you look equally surprised to see the other. Your pulse coursing through your ears, mouth slightly agape, looking at another human for the first time in forever.

"Hi," you squeak, nothing else coming to mind.

"Who are you?" He snarls.

It's spoken with so much hostility, but that question is one that brings you so much relief. You break down, pouring out your entire story in a rampant monologue. Telling him in detail everything you could about you, Yoongi, this place and your abductions. Fully spilling all that you had been so desperate to tell.

He, however, gives you nothing in return. For nearly 10 minutes you ask him question after question and he declines them all. Not even his name slips loose. He explains once that he can't know if your working with Yoongi, or that lunatic as he called him, and he is not going to tell you a single thing. Every question afterwards is only met with a solemn stare or a shake of refusal.

"If you won't tell me anything," you mope a little, "well, you look like a James Bond character, so I'm going to call you Mr Spy. The Spy? 007. Spy-man? I'll work on it." You mutter completely senseless and giddy from this rare moment. Continuing to overshare and divulge.

"Okay, Y/N. With everything you've told me, we're on the same page. So, if you help me get out of these," he rattles his hands, "Then I can get you out of this place."

The thought is alluring. But also more than you signed up for when you came down here. Firstly, Yoongi always keeps the keys for these chains on him. But secondly and most importantly, if you attempted to escape, if you tried to leave again Yoongi would never forgive you. You can't get away from him. You know you can't. And if you tried he would lock you up and throw away the key. You couldn't- You can't.

"I'm sorry, but no. I can't." You sadly brush his offer aside. Feeling awful denying him help like that. "I have to go back up before Yoongi comes home," you mumble.

Leaning over him you bring the hood up. You need to return him to how he was. He doesn't fight or argue, seeming to somberly accept his fate, but his eyes do dart to the top of the stairs at the last second.

Reacting to his troubled expression, you spin around seeing Yoongi already home, standing at the entrance.

At once your body tightens becoming flushed with sweat. Scrambling back from the man you stand in the middle of the room, trying to keep your breathing slow and deep to hide your fright.

"I thought," He starts to lower down the stairs, punctuating each point in his sentence with an additional step. "I said. You could not. Come in here."

"I'm sorry," you hush as Yoongi snatches the hood from your hand. Your head lowering in surrender.

"You want to save her?" He turns his attention and building anger towards his new prisoner. His fists are tight, knuckles cracking as he clenches and twists them. "You want to get her out of this place?" The challenge, the hash way he spits the words spoken about you is making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Goosebumps flittering down your skin.

Lurching forward Yoongi's knee bashes into The Spy's head. And again. His foot following down booting him in the chest. And again.

"You think she wants to go with you?!" He growls, beating his fist into his head, over and over. The skin breaking, blood erupting all across his face. The Spy's restrained position not allowing him to protect himself in any way, only able to groan and splutter through the abuse. "You're too weak to even get yourself free. You think you can take her!" Yoongi steps back and lifts his leg, stomping the heel of his boot into the curled up fist of The Spy. Making him explode in a pained howl as you hear the bones crunch.

Not wanting to show any reaction, you stay coiled and fixed. Praying for this to end quickly. You had seen this level of violence and sadism from Yoongi before in the outside world. He doesn't acknowledge or accept any interference and he will only finish on his own terms.

You can't help but think if this is this how cruel and viciously he treats everyone else?

Stomping down again, this time he lines up The Spy's ankle. Throwing all his weight, all his force into the joint. The man's screams turning into cries as he wails in agony.

"No. You're not taking her anywhere." Yoongi straightens up, blowing out a heavy breath. Running his fingers back through his black hair over and over pulling it out of his face. "You're gonna tell me everything I wanna know. And then I'll finally let you die." He swallows hard, rearranging his clothes and loosening his muscles. His fiery explosion now quenched.

You can't lift your eyes as he drags you to the top floor. The basement door sealing, muffling the tears of the man below.

"Yoongi. I told him- I told him I couldn't-" You're starting and stopping, trying to sufficiently explain or plead your case. He's never shown anything near that level of violence towards you, but you were still sure he was about to lock you away endlessly for disobeying him.

He steps into you, silencing and making you jump back, smacking into the wall. Trapped between it and your hovering captor.

"I heard you." He speaks deeply and softly. In complete opposition to how he was moments ago. "Well done." His coarse pronunciation is abandoned as he speaks these words very clearly. Making sure you hear his sincerity.

His hand runs softly over your hair, stroking and cupping your head. Making you fight not to melt. Making you look up at him with big eyes. Any sort of affection from Yoongi instantly impacting you greatly, making you emotional and needy for more. Your bottom lip quivering, you whimper lowly as you lose the internal struggle and lean into his hand. Your eyes scrunching tight, hating yourself for how much his gentle touch affects your heart.

"Come with me," he holds your hand having you trail him upstairs. Taking you into his bedroom where he extends the affection and intimacy. Being with you so tenderly and kindly as your mind and heart tears back and forth between the softness you can feel now, and the horrors you saw him do before.

Despite the risks, your head fills with how and when you could see The Spy again. He was hurt, and he needed your help. And you were too eager to see him again. But when you wake the next day, you find a hefty padlock keeping the basement door sealed.

Yoongi at once reading your reaction. "You should thank me for locking that door Y/N. You don't know how dangerous some people can be."

Part two

[gojuo]

the fact that they put in this WORTHLESS brothel bullying scene + aemond getting SA'd at such a young age because of aegon plot (so that writers can justify his love for alys later down the line as if he can't just fall in love with her, no it HAS to be rooted in his traumatic experience w older women 😮‍💨) to set up the brotherly rivalry and the non-canon betrayal at RR .... instead of you know ... maybe aegon blaming aemond for the murder of his son and the torture of his wife and their sister ??? like how about THAT being the reason for the tension and animosity in their relationship with one another ??? how about THAT causing aemond such soul-crushing guilt ??? especially after he dragged an unwilling aegon to his coronation which then through his reckless actions leads to his big brother becoming irreversibly damaged and disabled by fighting a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place ??? how about THAT guilt leading aemond down a path of murder and mania and the inability to face his family anymore causing him to stupidly abandon them in KL then catalyzing to what's basically his suicide above the god's eye ????

but no of course b&c won't be the reason for the tension and you wanna know why? because these writers don't want you to care about blood and cheese. helaena sure as fuck doesn't! "children die all the time so it's ok mine died right? :^)))))" instead of her character developing into the suicidal broken woman she becomes who kills herself over this trauma that daemon and rhaenyra inflicted upon her, she's like whatever :^). and then the director and writers have the AUDACITY to say daemon realizes this episode that he made a mistake in ordering b&c and that he regrets it. IN BOOK CANON DAEMON HAD ALREADY BEEN PLANNING THE ASSASSINATION AND TORTURE OF HELAENA AND HER KIDS FOR WEEKS!!!!! WEEKS!!!!!!!!!!!!

but no, b&c and the consequences thereof cannot be felt or reckoned with by any of the greens' characters. because how else can ryan condal then wash daemon and rhaenyra's hands clean of this pivotal act of senseless violence in the story? bunch of worthless writers.

Trying to churn out fics for HOTD when the writing continues to hit rock bottom, is slowly driving me insane. S2’s writing has been absolute garbage to the point I’m feeling extremely uncharitable towards Alicent, which is probably a good indication to stop writing for the day.

For one, why is TG written to act like the war is Aegon’s fault, when aside from Helaena, he’s so far been the least at fault??

Alicent and Otto were the ones that crowned Aegon against his will. Aegon was the one who had to be dragged to the pit kicking and screaming (literally) to claim a throne he never even wanted. Sure, there’s the argument that it’s his birthright en yada yada, but clearly the show forgot that little bit.

Aemond killed Lucerys. Criston was the one who sent Arryk after Rhaenyra, not Aegon. Otto was the one who ordered nobles killed for not supporting them.

So what exactly has Aegon actually done? And if the leaks are to be believed (and they’ve been accurate so far), what has he done to deserve his own brother maiming and trying to kill him? Because he was mean and cruel and petty in today’s episode???

So fucking what?????

Aegon isn’t nice. They’ve never gotten along, except for few moments where they stuck together for survival. This isn’t petty childhood squabbles, sibling bullying, or rivalries borne from being mom’s favorite vs the most unloved eldest son in westeros. Aegon’s son is dead, and Aemond is partially at fault.

It doesn’t matter that Aemond regrets killing Lucerys. It absolves no one. Luke’s still dead, so Jaehaerys is too.

Aegon is gonna be mean and hateful and angry and vengeful. Aemond did something incredibly stupid and now his infant nephew is dead. Today’s brothel scene will never justify what Aemond does next episode.

[xneens]

love me, hate me - part one

Warnings: swearing, angst if you squint, mild violence

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Who knew Ransom would get so worked up about a few stolen beers?

Or: In which he's a sucker for you but those were his favorite beers.

He didn't know why he put up with your shit. If you had been anyone else, you'd be working at a dead end job that barely covered your bills instead of walking around the mansion in your brand new Lois Vuitton purse, Jimmy Choo heels that screamed for him to fuck you, and a tight dress he wanted to tear off.

You even had the balls to call him Hugh, a name he specifically reserved for the help. When he informed you, you had rolled your pretty powdered eyes, sneering at him for being an inconsiderate asshole before asking why he wasn't calling himself Hugh due to the massive help sign that was disguised as his cashmere sweater.

Ransom didn't know if he wanted to hurt you or make you his. He preferred the latter but with the way you were pushing him, he wouldn't be surprised with himself if you somehow found yourself in the backseat of his car, tied up and awaiting for him to fuck you senseless. If you had been anyone else, he would ruin your life without hesitation.

He tried to hate you, he really did and usually, it wouldn't be hard for him to hate someone. Most of the time it barely took him a glance for him to decide to loathe the person. But as he tried harder to hate you, forget you, and ignore you, the more you wiggled your way into his every thought. Even then he couldn't hate you. It made part of him want to ditch family gatherings where he knew you would show, being Meg's best friend, and another part of him was exhilarated.

You on the other hand dreaded being dragged into another Thrombey's family gathering where it all ended in arguments and racists comments. The only people you were able to stomach were Harlan, his adorable nurse, Martha, and of course, your best friend Meg. Whenever the conversation began to look like a shouting match, the two of you would sneak away to get high with the maid, Fran.

Ransom was an asshole, a hot, smoldering asshole with enough snarky remarks that would make any sane person hang themselves. You knew he wasn't a fan of yours, which was only good news for you; you hated him, too. The expression "there's a little bit of good in everyone." applied to everyone except him, not that you weren't surprised. Truth to be told, you wouldn't put it past him to kill a family member if they pissed him off enough.

With the number of jabs you made at his expense, you were shocked he hadn't ruined your life yet. Maybe you had a death wish dangling over you, or maybe you just liked pushing him but you made it your little mission to ruin his evening since yours would be the second he stepped in the room.

Meg nudged you with her elbow, leaving a sore spot on your ribs. You gave her a dirty glare, looking up from your Instagram feed. She motioned to the large mansion ahead, the car slowing. "Okay, the plan is to get drunk, but not enough for my drunk relatives to notice and once they're having one of their dumb-ass debates, we sneak off to Fran's room and smoke a few. That sound good?"

Stretching, you nodded, tucking your phone away. "Yeah, that's fine. Remind me how I ended up spending Thanksgiving break with you, again? What did I ever do to deserve such a punishment?"

"You crushed your parent's wishes on becoming a lawyer, instead became an Instagram model, and the holidays with them are too long for you to hear how their daughter could've convicted criminals instead of posting bikini pics," Meg replied, grinning at your sarcastic pout. She stopped the car right beside her mom's. "Come on, it won't be that bad."

"That's what you said last time. Do you not remember how that little reunion ended?" you asked, opening the car door and getting out. The little gravel on the cemented driveway crunched under your new heels, making you grimace.

Meg shut her door, grabbing her purse. She waited at her side of the car and you both walked up to the door. "Actually, I don't. I'm surprised you can especially with all the weed you smoked."

Rolling your eyes, your mind wandered to the man who had killed your buzz. "Your asshole of a cousin ruined my buzz just by opening his mouth. He could be so much hotter if he never utters a single word ever again."

"Please stop talking about Ransom, it's making my lunch come back up." Meg whined, her feet trudging up the steps. Your heels clicked on the wooden porch. "Which reminds me, he kept asking if you were going to be here. Be careful, he might have a little trap to humiliate you in front of my family. If that happens, just knee him in the balls, and we can go to Cabo or something."

You made a face, cringing just thinking of Ransom asking about you, let alone imagining some kind of plan to embarrass you. "Ugh, what a dick. It's time like this that I regret not going back to my crazy family for holidays."

"You'll be fine. Hopefully. Let's go see Harlan." she opened the door, taking off the lush coat draped over her shoulders before placing it on the spacious coat closet by the entrance. She held her hand out for yours and you slid it off handing it over for her to hang up.

Martha greeted you before you could take another step, the Latina smiling at both of you. "I'm so glad both of you are here. The rest came in before you and they've been bickering since."

You both gave her knowing smiles, the loud discussion so heated you could hear it from all the way across the house. Meg sighed, snaking an arm around yours and Martha, pulling you towards Fran's quarters. "Looks like Harlan will have to wait. I'm not going in there sober."

Martha shook her head, slipping her arm out from Meg's grasp. "Sorry, I don't drink and I have to serve them before they get any rowdier. Between the three of us, I'd rather not see another fist brawl this holiday."

You let out a dry chuckle, fixing the hem of your dress. What were you thinking wearing such a tight dress to a party where Richard Drysdale would mentally undress you with his beady eyes. "We'll come with you, now won't we, Meg?"

She groaned, getting pulled by you, her feet dragging on the hard floor. "We're spending Christmas at your parents' house. You can suffer the family drama because I've had it up to here with mine."

"Oh, you big baby." you teased, following Martha to the living room with Meg in tow. You'd think with all the drama she endured from her crazy mother she'd be able to handle a little more from her crazy relatives. "Wanna mess with that racist, whiney troll?"

Meg's lips lifted into a smile. "That's why you're my best friend."

Martha took a turn towards the kitchen instead of the living room, leaving you and Meg to enter the roomful of crazies alone. Some heads turned but not enough to stop the little debate happening.

Jacob sat at the uncomfortable seat in the corner of the room, watching and tapping the screen in front of him, his eyes never tearing from the device. Linda and Donna sat side by side while their husbands had a screaming match with the other. Joni stood by the fireplace, sipping her wine, and occasionally input some random Pinterest inspirational shit. Your eyes landed on the man you thought would take his sweet time arriving.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale sat at his self-proclaimed seat, eating his Biscoff butter cookies, a smirk evident on his face as he watched you walk into the room. He tried to ignore the way his heart raced, blaming it on the cookies and his seven-month dry spell.

You broke free from Meg's arm, pouring yourself a flute full of champagne, swallowing every last drop before making your way to the plush couch, sitting beside your best friend. Your perfume whiffed in the air as you passed Ransom, making him sit up in his chair. You sat close enough for him to reach over and touch you, but he didn't.

Linda gave you the warmest smile she could muster, interrupting the men's argument to greet you. "Hello, darling. Glad you could make it. At least now there's someone in the room with half a brain."

Walt sneered at his sister before giving you a half-hearted smile. "Hey, kid. Your dad still adamant you become a lawyer?"

"Yup," you answered, pulling out your phone, seeing a bunch of notifications from said person. "Why else do you think I let Meg kidnap me, Walt? No offense, but Thanksgiving at the Thrombey's doesn't classify as peaceful or relaxing."

Ransom guffawed, earning glares from his family members. He smirked at you, biting off a piece from his cookies. "Finally, someone who speaks the truth. No wonder she's his favorite."

That subject launched another debate: deciding who was Harlan's favorite. It was no doubt, Martha was but you did come at a close second. Ransom knew, and he didn't want to miss an opportunity to watch his relatives fight. He was a dick that way. He glanced at you, seeing your phone light up as you whispered a secret to Meg. You ignored the phone call, turning over the phone.

While the rest of the family argued, you left Meg's side, getting up from the uncomfortable couch, and walked out of the room. Ransom watched you, licking his lips at the sight of sashaying, hips swaying, and heels clicking. The crotch of his pants grew uncomfortably tight.

Meg watched him watch you with narrowed eyes, suspicious by her cousin's behavior. He may be 33 but he still acted like a teen, and with her best friend pushing him, there was no telling what he'd do. "If you do anything stupid or remotely offensive to her, I'll make sure to send her your head for her next birthday. Maybe she'll have it taxidermied, and hang it up."

Ransom smirked, tossing the last of his cookie in his mouth, chewing as he looked down at his cousin. "That'll only give me a view of a lifetime. My, this college you go to doesn't seem to teach manners does it? Charming as ever, Meg."

She scowled at him, getting up in the middle of the argument. She couldn't stop whatever he was planning if she didn't know what he had in mind but she wasn't going to ruin this holiday for her best friend. Meg followed you to the kitchen, seeing you take a shot glass from Martha. "Drinking already?"

"Don't judge me. Lemme wallow in the warmth and love of the alcohol that your family isn't capable of," you replied, drinking the clear liquid, grimacing as it burned your throat. Martha handed you the chaser, her timid personality making her put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Thanks, Martha."

Meg took the bottle of vodka, pouring herself a shot before offering it to Martha who had shaken her head. "You sure?"

She nodded, placing the bottle back in its place. "Yeah, I don't need to be drunk when serving those people. It seems like it's even worse out there than before."

"Thank Ransom. That bastard decided to start another fight just by opening his mouth," you said, sipping on a glass of water. Sniffing the room, you smelt the Thanksgiving dinner Martha had to cook by herself. You knew she had to make a special meal for Ransom since he wouldn't dare put the traditional food in his mouth. Too bad, it'd shut him up. "Why is he here, anyway? Isn't he usually the last one to get here?"

"Usually, but he came with Linda and Richard. Don't worry, you're not the only confused." Martha answered. The oven timer beeped and she opened it, taking out the pumpkin pie. She held it out. "What do you guys think?"

"Looks delicious," Meg replied, looking around the room. The sun was setting and soon you would have to face Ransom again, for dinner. "Do you need any help, Martha? We could help you set up the table or something."

"No, it's fine. I have everything taken care of," she said, nearly dropping the big turkey. Meg helped her, carrying it to the counter. Martha smiled sheepishly. "I guess I could use some help. Meg, do you mind stirring the gravy? And [Y/N], would you please place some knives at the table?"

Both you and Meg nodded, helping the poor nurse. Harlan must've let Fran have the day off or else she'd be all over this. Meg grabbed a plastic ladle from the drawers while you took a handful of knives, leaving the kitchen and walking to the dining room. The long table had been filled with plates, glasses, and napkins, the only thing missing was silverwares. Harlan would have to give Martha a raise.

You had just placed the first knife down when Ransom came in the room, leaning against the arch, arms crossed as he took you in. Watching you, he realized he might have a knife kink, only when it comes to you. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to make some kind of remark.

When he didn't, you sighed, tossing a knife onto a clothed napkin. "Yes, you pretentious asshole?"

He chuckled, pushing himself off the wood and walking towards you. "Hello to you, too. Why exactly are you doing that? Shouldn't that Mary girl be taking care of everything?"

Oh, the urge to stab a knife in his face--it was almost too much to resist. "It's Martha and unlike you, I'm nice enough to offer help rather than be a lazy prick who no one loves. Karma's gonna bite you in the ass one day, baby."

Ransom snorts, walking up next to you, so close you could feel the heat coming off of him. "You know, my dear cousin mentioned something about some prank she thinks I'm going to pull on you. Do you know what's going on in that stoned brain of hers?"

"Ransom?" you asked, making your way around the large table, placing knives where they belonged. Gritting your teeth into a smile, you turned to him. "I mean this in the best way possible: fuck off."

He would never dare admit it, to himself even, but that hurt him a little. Not enough to break his smug exterior. "Aw, I like you, too, sweetheart. Hurts when you don't admit you do, too. Want some help on the other silverware?"

Your jaw dropped, the knife slipping through your fingers and Ransom caught it quickly. He placed the knife on the empty, designated napkin. "You're fucking with me."

"No, but I sure would like to fuck you." he grinned, the hidden objective twinkling in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, returning back to the kitchen with Ransom following. "Can't a guy help out around here?"

Ransom grabbed your hand before you could push the kitchen door open. He gently led you to the dark, almost hidden hallway beside the dining room. You snatched your hand back, your elbow grazing the wall behind you. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Spending time with my favorite person," Ransom answered, the smirk gone as he backed you to the wall behind you, leaving you no room to escape. Not that you wanted to. His eyes dropped to your lips, only to darken when yours flashed to his. "Why're you so special? Why do you keep invading my thoughts, my dreams, huh? What're you doing to me?"

That made you smile, amused he couldn't stop thinking about your body. You drag your manicured finger down his blue sweater, earning a shaky breath from him. "Glad to know you have wet dreams about me, Hugh. Hmm, what do you get off to, anyway? Degradation? BDSM? Or are you vanilla in bed? With the way you act, it makes me wonder if you even have a dick."

He growled, slamming you into the wall so hard your head made a loud thud. You'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on a bit. You did like it rough. "Your a guest here, act with respect, [Y/N]. Close that mouth before you say something you'll regret."

"Wouldn't you like it if I used my mouth for something useful?" you breathed, hands resting on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. His eyes drifted to your lips, tongue darting out to moisten his own. "Yeah, you would."

"What that mouth do, sweetheart?"

You heard the oven timer ding and you smiled, moving your lips to his ear. "Eat."

—

His thigh brushed against yours, a hand "accidentally" landing on your bare thigh, his fingers wrapping around the leg. You flashed him a hard smile before moving your thigh away, almost kicking his wife across the table. You scooted closer to Ransom, hoping to avoid his father's uncomfortable advances. If it wasn't for Linda, you would've stabbed the knife you were holding in his hand.

Apparently, you scooted a bit too close to Ransom for him to raise an eyebrow at you, the hint of a soft grin appearing. You glared at him. "Don't."

Ransom chuckled softly, moving closer, close enough for your shoulders to touch. "Now who likes my company?"

"I do like your company... said no one ever." you snapped, keeping enough distance from Richard's wandering hands. If you could, you would've rip his fingers off, but the Thrombey's were too powerful. Ransom threw you a glance, looking between you and the gap between your chairs. You grit your teeth. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

You pushed away from the table, frustrated with everything about your situation. Tossing your napkin on your plate, you stood up, catching everyone's eye. "Excuse me."

Meg was in the middle of eating her share of the turkey, looking up with a piece of the skin hanging from her mouth. If you hadn't felt so uncomfortable, you would've laughed. She sat up, tilting her head in question as she covered her mouth. You shook you head, assuring her you'd be fine.

Ransom's eyes followed you as you walked by Harlan, giving him a gentle peck on the cheek and a hug before walking out of the dining room. He didn't think he'd ever be jealous of his grandfather. He waited a few seconds before following you, Meg's narrowed eyes watching him as he walked with purpose—he just didn't know what that was yet.

He heard your door slam before he could take a step up the stairs, leaving him confused on what to do. Ransom knew you would reject his company, not that he would blame you. Yet, he felt a little pang in his chest that he ignored, blaming it on the salty turkey. He'd have to go to the doctor soon, check out what was going on with his heart. It might be something serious like palpitations.

Sighing, he went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer and dragged his feet back to his room, trying to forget about the effect you had on him.

It didn't work.

—

Crawling out of bed, you tiptoed down the hall, careful not make a sound as you made your way downstairs. The stairs were loud and you cringed, hoping everyone was deep asleep. Meg had passed out after smoking Fran's stash, plopping down on her bed in your shared bedroom. She reeked of weed and that hadn't help you sleep at all.

You snuck into the kitchen, the soft counter lights bright in the dark room. Walking over to the fridge, you pulled it open, seeing Ransom's alleged "best" beer right at the front. Rolling your eyes, you grab one, popping the cap off. You took a sip, agreeing with the asshole; it was great beer.

Unfortunately, he chose that right moment to have a midnight snack. The kitchen door opened and Ransom was greeted by the sight of you drinking his beer in your tight tank top and booty shorts. It was enough for him to lose it.

Angrily, he walked up to you, snatching the beer from your hand, some of it dripping on the floor. He held it up in front of you with a sneer on his face. "What the hell do you think you're doing with my beer?"

You flinched when he threw it across the room, the shards sprinkling out on the floor. If his yelling hadn't woken up anyone, that certainly would've. Rolling your eyes, you sighed, crossing your arms. "Don't you mean Harlan's beer? It's not like you bought that beer from your own pocket since you don't do shit."

"Oh, I don't do shit? Unlike you I don't depend on horny men and lesbians for likes in order to keep a roof over my head." he spits, pushing you back against the counter.

"No, you just take money from mommy and daddy." you fired back, amused by his anger. You decided then you had a death wish. Or maybe it was just hot seeing Ransom so riled up. Either way, you weren't complaining.

Ransom growled, hands gripping your waist so tightly you were sure it would leave bruises. "Shut up."

Smirking, you lean towards him, lips hovering his. "Make me."

Before he could kiss you, you shoved him away, took another beer from the fridge and walked away without giving him a second look. Ransom stared after you, gripping the kitchen counter.

This wasn't over.

part two

[eldritch-spouse]

Your monster boyos reactions to an s/o who's got bad anger issues (like, murderous anger issues) on nearly everyone but them?

Maybe they found this one in the back of a police cruiser. Maybe they found them with blood on their knuckles. They think nothing of it at first. Humans killing humans has been a process since the dawn of time. They get taken, one of the monsters take an interest in them, they start going steady, and things go pretty smoothly for a while.

But then, they see it in action. A captive who had a particular attitude towards the s/o goes missing from the holding pens. It takes a minute to find him, but they wish they hadn't. They walk in to find their s/o bashing the captive's head in, knuckles drenched in blood, screaming bloody murder like a maniac, and the only response they give is a glare that echos hate and ungodly rage. The captive isn't even recognizable anymore. His grey matter has been reduced to a stain on s/o's fists. The only thing that can be told about him is that he died in worse agony than most of the other monsters could even preform. All from a mere human. And s/o's only response about the whole encounter?

"He pissed me off."

What happens to the s/o afterwards? Do they get promoted into the Clergy or just given a wide distance by the others? Do they assist their partner? Is their partner impressed, nervous, and/or turned on by the display of gratuitous violence?

Whoever they are, it takes a bit more than just blunt strength or violence to get hired. Even Vinnel's brutality isn't completely senseless. You won't get hired, and you'll definitely get chastised. It doesn't matter what the other captive said to you, unless you were physically harmed, The Clergy sees this as unnecessary waste of products and is not empathetic towards you. And, naturally, humans aren't hired to work in the establishment regardless so you're not participating in anything unless a very close eye is kept on your person.

I can't think of a single clergyman who would be unimpressed or disheartened by this side of you, not one. Some of them are, in fact, very open about their enjoyment of your violence, those being namely Morell, Vinnel, Santi and Ludwig.

Morell just likes seeing a human gored, makes him kind of hungry. You got a lotta bite for a human, that will come in handy later, when you start helping him cook his long pigs. It takes some strength to crack a skull open, it may be easy for him, but others struggle. He's glad to see that spirit in ya!

Vinnel honestly thinks there's nothing funnier than humans killing other humans at the drop of a hat. He's torn between helping you or simply watching from a distance, feet kicking in the air from delight, toes curling. Uhuhu, you're some kinda crazy, aren't you?

It's been a long time since Santi has felt the need to get gory, but, demon that he is, guts and gore don't turn him off at all. In fact, he's very excited by the brute strength you exhibit and wants to feel that first-hand. He won't help you, but the incubus will watch with very heated eyes and purr quietly.

Ludwig is a wrath demon, you and him enable each other perpetually honestly. But he's kind of tired of having to keep himself in check constantly, and he understands the need to go off every once in a while, so he won't stop you or steal the fun away either. But he will get horny, and he might jerk off if he thinks he can get away with it. That's just how it rolls for wrath demons.

Gallon would be a bit grossed out if you did it near his bar, but other than that, he's entirely ambivalent, maul as many people as you want.

Sybastian and Fank-e will charge whoever you're brutalizing under the impression that you're been gravely slighted. They're going to fret over you afterwards, as if you're not completely fine...

Grimbly legitimately just fawns over you. You're so big and strong and imposing, you're always going to keep him safe, right? He's bragging about you to everyone under the sun. Patches also brags a little, but like the painslut he is, he wants you to get rough like that with him. He can take it, don't worry firefly.

Nebul observes from a distance as well. He'll start working on bottling all that anger up (and I mean "bottling", not managing), so he can then Pavlov you into fits of murderous rage for amusement.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Near-Death Experience || Mike Wheeler x Reader

Requested: "Billy enters the house in season two and is beating up Steve and the reader steps in to help and Billy ends up hurting her. so after Max stabs Billy in the neck, they're in the car and the reader is seated between Mike and Dustin while Max is driving and Mike ends up getting a little angry at the reader for risking her life to save Steve? He was so worried Billy would kill her which is why he's angry and the reader was defending herself and saying he would have killed Steve and stuff then when the car turns and stuff, the reader and Mike end up falling on each other as they're arguing sksk"

Warnings: several mentions of blood, graphic (?) descriptions of violence. Broken bones.

"I said, does anybody understand that?" You looked at Steve in disbelief as he scolded the five of you, waving a dish towel around. "I need a yes."

You guys were trying to convince him that you all could give El and the chief time to get to the gate if you drew out the demo-dogs by setting fire to the hub.

Honestly, the idea wasn't half bad.

But of course, Steve wasn't having any of it.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and groaned.

"Whatever, mom!"

His face scrunched up at your remark but before anything else could be said, everyone's attention was pulled outside when you heard the obnoxious revving of an engine.

Your legs carried you into the living room and Max ran to the window. She jumped onto the couch and peered out into the night, Lucas joined her. You could see faint white lights, from what you could only assume to be headlights, crawl across their faces.

"What is it?" You asked.

"It's my brother." Max said, and you could sense the panic sneaking up on her. "He can't know I'm here. He'll kill me. He'll kill us."

She looked desperately around the room and your face hardened in worry. You looked from Max to Steve, hoping he would know what to do.

Steve wore a similar expression on his face, but then he stormed outside.

The rest of you all squeezed onto the couch together, peering outside to watch everything unfold. You had to squint a little, but then you saw a guy step out of the car, around Steve's age you guessed, and Steve joined him on the lawn.

None of you could make out what they were saying but based on context and their body language, you could tell the air out there was thick with tension.

Lots of words were exchanged, and just as you had wished you could hear what they were saying, Max's brother Billy looked over at the window, at all of you and gestured.

You all dove under the window, hiding behind the couch, panting.

"Shit!" Dustin exclaimed. "Did he see us?"

There was beat or silence and then you could have sworn you heard a thud and groaning, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps growing closer.

"I think he saw us," Dustin panted.

"No, shit Sherlock!" You hissed, and you suddenly got an idea. "The back door in the kitchen. Quick!"

You guys all abandoned the couch and make your way to the kitchen, hoping you could make it out in time but then the door burst open and you all turned to see Billy.

This was the first time you actually saw him in person and he immediately creeped you out.

He stood in the doorway, and he looked at all of you. His eyes landed on Lucas and they zeroed in on him.

"Well, well, well," he said flatly, though he was seeping with rage.

He stalked forward and we all subconsciously backed away.

"Lucas Sinclair," he growled. "what a surprise,"

He now stood in front of Max and Lucas and his attention turned to Max.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max."

"Billy, go away." Despite her words, her tone gave how frightened she really was, not that you blamed her.

"You disobeyed me," he said and you cringe in disgust. "And you know what happens when you disobey me,"

"Billy," her voice wavered but he continued.

"I break things,"

Everything happened so fast. He turned on his heel and grabbed Lucas by the shoulders, and forced him across the room and into one of the shelves.

You and your friends cried out frightened protests.

"Get off me, you--" Lucas struggled against his grip but Billy was too strong.

Billy shook Lucas by the collar roughly, forcing Lucas to look him in the eye. You stood frozen, telling, no screaming at your body to move and help your friend but your limbs were numb and you watched tearfully in fear.

"Since Maxine won't listen to me, maybe you will. You stay away from her." He shook him violently once more, raising his voice. "Stay away from her! You hear me?"

Before you know it, your legs were carrying you across the room, you grabbed at his shoulder trying to pry Billy off of him but he didn't even have to turn around to stop you.

He shoved his arm back roughly and suddenly, his elbow struck you sharply and it knocked you back, taking the wind out of you, and you heard Mike call out your name in fear.

You stumbled back and caught a glimpse of Billy shuffle backward, and doubling over, reaching between his legs. Lucas must have injured him, going right where it counted.

He looked up, glaring holes into Lucas.

"You are so dead, Sinclair! You're dead."

You felt someone push past you and you exhaled in relief. It was Steve.

Steve put a hand on Billy, roughly turning him around to face him while simultaneously getting him away from Lucas.

"No," he said simply. "You are."

Steve reeled his hand back and punched Billy square in the jaw, knocking him back.

You and Duston chuckled happily, in relief, but Max only grew more grave.

"Steve!" She called out warningly.

Billy stood up, cackling maniacally, turning to look at Steve.

Lucas slipped quietly behind him and you reached out and grabbed his hand. He gladly accepted and you pulled him into a quick hug as you led him back to the others. You stood in front of them like a shield. Your eyes never left the fight, making sure Billy didn't come after Lucas or Max.

Billy smiled smugly, still laughing as he talked down to Steve.

"Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh?" Billy was yelling, and he gestured to Steve. "I've been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody's been telling me so much about."

He strutted over to Steve, getting in his face, blood was dripping from his nose. While he wore a smile, his eyes were dead and expressionless. It was enough to scare you senseless.

Steve seemed equally disgusted and he spoke in a much quieter tone. He gently pushed Billy away, using only his forefinger and Billy shuffled back, gears in his head turning. He was planning his next move.

"Get out."

He stood rooted to the spot, and he licked his lips. Suddenly his arm was flying through the air, headed right for Steve's temple. He didn't even have to reel back.

But Steve caught on and ducked just before the boys fist could collide into his head. He stood quickly and swung his left fist, hitting Billy in the side of his face.

Billy stumbled back into the kitchen table and looked up Steve, still laughing.

Mike and Dustin came alive from behind you.

"Yes! Kick his ass, Steve!"

"Get him!"

Before Billy could strike again, or even pull himself up from the table Steve swung again, knocking him back into the kitchen counters.

"Murder the son of a bitch!"

Steve was still advancing. Throwing punches left and right.

"Now! Now!"

"Get that shithead!"

"Kill the son of a bitch!"

Billy was now against the kitchen sink, head now rolling back with laughter, blood dripping from his face on his exposed chest.

All too late you saw Billy reach for the plate and he crashed it into Steve's head knocking the wind out of him.

"Steve!"

"Billy!" Max yelled, pleading for him to stop.

It was Steve who was now tumbling back into the kitchen table.

"Holy shit!" Mike breathed out.

Steve was stumbling in your direction, his back to Billy and you saw Billy advancing on him.

"Steve, look out!" You cried out.

He lunged himself into the wall, narrowly missing Billy's fist. He collided into the shelves and then pushed himself off, missing another one of Billy's attacks.

Steve made his way into the living room and you shuffled your friends to the side, getting out of the way of the fight. Billy trailed after Steve and grabbed him by the shoulders roughly.

"No one, tells me what to do!" With a loud grunt, he headbutted Steve in the face.

Steve collapses on the floor and you shuffle on your feet, your mouth hanging open and you silently prayed that he would get up.

Billy hollers in triumph and stalks towards Steve curled up on the floor. The map of tunnels that were taped to the floor, the ones Will had drawn, were crumpling and tearing under Steve's body as he pushed himself away.

"Get up!" Billy spit.

"Come on, Steve!" You cried.

"You're gonna kill him!" Dustin exclaimed.

Billy stands over Steve, one leg on either side of him and he throws his arms back and pummels Steve into the ground. He throws punch after punch, strike after strike. Steve is bleeding out all over the floor. You watch in horror, knowing now Billy wasn't gonna stop until he went too far. Until Steve was dead.

He was screaming, spit flying everywhere as he did so. Some of the spit was mixed in with blood and you saw Steve losing consciousness.

Everything was in slow motion now. Your face hardened and you stomped noiselessly over to Billy, his back turned to you. You felt the ghost of a grasp on your arm, trying to stop you but your arm slipped out easily. It was Mike. You tuned out his cries of protest, he was soon joined by the others but you couldn't hear them now. All you could hear now as time seemed to stand still was the thunderous pounding of your heart in your ears.

You focused on Billy's form like a target. Like a bull storming after the matador, all you could focus on, all you could allow yourself to think about, was the red of his shirt.

You were running now and a deafening cry tore through your throat as you sped at the man. Arms outstretched and you tackled him into the door, knocking him off his feet.

Everything went back to normal, you were back in reality and your friends shocked exclaims echoed in your ears but all you could focus on was the look on Billy's face.

Shock flickered over his features, but he quickly recovered. He chuckled dryly and muttered your death sentence under his breath.

You were too slow to dodge the sudden sweep of his leg, and you crashed onto the ground, hearing the paper crumple under your body.

You looked up at him in fear and you scrambled back desperately. But you didn't get very far, your hands scrambled for grip on the hardwood floor but you found next to none. The paper tunnels moved from under your sweaty palms, causing your hands and feet to slip continuously.

He now towered above you and you could barely make out the cries of protest from Mike and the others.

"Don't hurt her! You son of a bitch, DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!" It was Mike and his voice was cracking with fear.

You looked quickly to the side, hoping by some miracle Steve would jump to his feet and save you but he was out cold.

By the time you looked back at Billy all you saw was his fist. Your head, which had been previously craning up, was slammed into the ground.

You heard a crack and pain exploded in your nose and the back of your head, confusing you. What you hadn't registered yet was that when he had punched you, it sends your head into the floor so hard you could have sworn you felt your brain hit the back of your skull.

White filled your vision and your ears were ringing slightly. You were in too much pain to hear the cries of fear from your friends.

Your legs began moving, squirming every which way. Attempting to kick him, or to worm you out from under him you didn't know which one. But then you felt a heavy weight on your right leg. It still moves violently, trying to get out from under his giant rubber boot.

You then felt an enormous pressure on your shin before it stopped briefly. You were still recovering from the blow to the face and head, you couldn't move much anymore you panted. Forcing your head to turn. It rolled on the ground as it moved, though it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. All you could do was watch and you saw him bring his left leg up. He looked you right in the eye, teeth clenched as he through his foot down onto your shin. Just as your ears stopped ringing you heard a crack and you cried out in pain.

He applied pressure on your leg with his foot and twisted into your leg, smashing his foot into the wound like you would a bug you just squashed, making sure the thing was dead.

You cried out in pain and terror, begging him to stop but he kneeled down closer to you as he flared at you.

You whimpered on the ground, reaching your forearms up in the form of an 'x' to shield your face, your arms felt like lead but it made no difference. He grabbed both your wrists in one hand, taking down your arms with no effort at all. With his other hand, he grabbed your hair close to your scalp and pulled your head up before slamming it into the ground.

The world was quiet and your vision grew dark. The last thing you saw was Max storming after Billy, syringe in hand.

×××

The next thing you feel is your body swaying slightly back and forth.

You were moving but your eyes were still closed. You heard the roar of an engine and your senses prickled at the familiar sound.

Everything came back in bits and pieces.

You remember hearing that sound when he showed up. You remembered running. You remember feeling fear. Lucas. Lucas was in danger.

Then you recalled punches being thrown and Steve.

Most of all you remembered red. Blood?

Yes, there was blood, a lot of it but that wasn't it. There was something else.

Billy!

Your eyes shot open and although it was dark, your eyes still seemed to adjust to the light. You were in a car.

Squinting from the bright lights that flashed over your face. The lights you realized, were from the road. Headlights.

You tried moving your head and you caught a glimpse of Dustin to your right. He was icing someone. Steve.

Steve was still passed out.

Dustin looked up and saw you were awake. He smiled gently at you.

"Hey buddy," You frowned, your mouth parted slightly.

You then felt how cold and simultaneously hot your upper lip felt. Was your nose running? You tried licking your lips but you immediately tasted the familiar metallic taste on your tongue.

"Y/n!" The voice came from your left and you moved your head to face the familiar voice. As soon as you did you winced, hissing slightly at the intense throbbing of your head.

You had a horrible migraine.

"Mike?" You croaked.

You blinked several times but you saw him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Y/n, oh thank God." He held up three fingers and you squinted. "How many fingers?"

Your vision doubled briefly as you tried to focus but it returned to normal just as soon.

"Three," you mumbled. "W-What happened?"

"You got the shit beaten out of you." He answered, his tone turned stern and his voice began to rise. "What the hell were you thinking?"

As your ears began picking up more sounds around you, your senses coming back, you picked up on the sloshing coming from Mike's direction.

Your eyes fell on his feet and you saw a can of lighter fluid in his stashed between his feet.

"Whas' that?" You slurred.

"Are you even listening to me?" Your eyes trailed back up to Mike and you peered up at him.

"I said you could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Nobody was doing anything," you said.

But apparently you hadn't actually said anything out loud and he just stared at you, still waiting for an answer.

"Nobody was doing anything!" You cried. "Steve was getting killed!"

"You were getting killed!" Mike retorted but you weren't listening.

Where was Steve?

Forgetting about your throbbing head you whipped your head around to your other side and saw him passed out on the other side of Dustin.

Oh, yeah. You thought.

It seems you had also forgotten you just saw him when you woke up.

You had to keep your head still for a few moments, just to recover from moving your head too fast. Mike, as it turns out, was still lecturing you.

You slowly rolled your head against the back of the seat to face Mike once more.

"He's twice your size, he could have snapped your neck! Seriously, what the hell were you thinking?! Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

Your face scrunched up in a wince, and you groaned, reaching up to cover your ears.

He realized what he was doing and calmed down a bit.

"Sorry,"

"He wasn't stopping, Mike. He was gonna kill him." You managed. "Then he was gonna kill all of us."

Then something clicked in your head.

"Wait, wait, wait," you grew frantic and Mike had reached out to calm you.

"Who's driving?"

Before you could get an answer you looked up and saw a flash of red hair in the driver's seat and then two hands ripped the steering wheel to the side.

The car turned so suddenly and with such a force it rolled you over and you cried out. Unable to physically stop yourself - pain exploded in your leg as soon as it so much as shifted and the memory of your leg snapping came flooding back to you - and in a mad scramble to get your weight off your bad leg combined with the sudden shift of gravity you were rolled over onto something indistinguishable.

When gravity centered and the car adjusted you groaned from the pain, and you strained to crane your neck, wanting to know what you landed on.

More specifically, who you landed on.

You were now face to face with Mike, he was violently pink as he met your eye and quickly looked away. You could feel his breath on your face and yours was probably on his.

You had been bumped into by Dustin and completely flipped over onto Mike's lap. You were practically laying on him.

You both were immediately flustered but you were cut short by the pain. Everything had happened so fast the pain hadn't caught up to you until now. Your head, nose, and leg were throbbing and you winced harshly.

"Y/n," his voice came out in a whisper. "Here let me help."

He had abandoned his lecturing tone, his anger completely forgotten and he was now using a soothing tone. He half cradled you as he helped place you back on the seat.

You thanked him under your breath, your voice was weak and spared a glance up at him.

You were now positioned so you were leaning against him. His shoulder became a pillow but you didn't adjust anymore. You were still blushing and so was he, profusely in fact. And you opened your eyes, seeing a mischievous smile on Dustin's lips as he looked between you two.

Okay, now would be a good time to pass out again.

[vipersunion-a]

you'd been full of barely contained anger when kyler came back to the dojo, fucking bragging about going up against ethan as if it wasn't five v one and his fists hadn't been clean. you told them you were coming along when they went back next, and you knew there'd be a next time. kyler was all bark and no bite and couldn't stop you from joining, even if he did try to bring whatever connection you had with ethan up. you'd let him think what he wants for the moment being. the meet-up could go one of two ways; either ethan would fold and allow himself to get hit or he'd beat the cobras to a pulp. maybe if kyler made it back without any broken bones you would challenge him to match of your own and beat him senseless. as much as it hurt to watch your friend get hurt you almost wish he wouldn't fuck kyler up so you could instead.

jaime, scarlett and ciro had involved themselves in the situation. you're curious why jaime did it. scarlett and ciro you can understand, she was itching for a fight 24/7 and he was as concerned about ethan as you were. you never knew where jaime's head was though. you knew her eyes got glassy when she drank and that she had a bit of a daddy kink, but none of it would help you here. she was unpredictable. it's why you had to come along this time, so you could help drag whoever was left broken on the ground home.

you allow ciro to pull you back. he's a protector, it's something you respect, so you heed his warning and stay put behind his watchful arms. jaime glances at you and then back to the arms held in front of the two of you. good, she trusts you with this. you're surprised when he doesn't drag scarlett back. does he trust her more or does he trust that ethan won't feel bad for defeating her once he snaps out of it? you need more evidence before you can draw a conclusion.

it doesn't face you when the boys all fall one by one. you were numb to violence prior to the whole karate war situation, but seeing ethan stand as the villain having brought them all to their knees isn't something you can stand by and tolerate. "this isn't you."

he agrees and turns and walks in your direction and for the first time since... ever you don't know what he's going to do. you might fucking kill keene over this. jaime puts on a brave face, but you can tell it's not going to last for long, she remains silent as ethan gets in his face and even as he walks away. once he's far enough awake she makes her way over to nick. none of you gave a shit about kyler, and maybe the tiniest of shits about big red, but nick and alex weren't completely unforgivable and you knew jaime cared about them, just not enough for you to go help.

once ethan starts to walk away you clench your hand around ciro's wrist in front of you. you don't care if you have to drag his arm down or break it, but you are going after your friend. screw the consequences, you could take a beating if it came to it.

you run until you're only a few feet behind him. "what the hell is wrong with you?" you know the obvious answer, but you need to hear him say it.

there’s a lot of things that you haven’t revealed about yourself to your friends... like the fact that you’re an eldritch being, or the fact that your humanity switch had been flipped for an entire day after you’d had a particularly nasty run-in with a horde of cobra kai students - excluding robby, thank fucking void - a few days ago. that’d been a 5v1, & some part of you just decided you were slightly done with pretending to be weak, at least for that singular, isolated interaction in particular. there hadn’t been a punch thrown, no kick blocked, just general taunts & sneers from kyler & his band of clowns. after they’d left, you flipped your emotions back on, & that had been hell, even if they’d only been suppressed for a total of six minutes... almost that entire solo interaction. your depressive episodes have been rapidly pendulum-swinging violently between making you feel too much & not enough since then. right now, you’re glad your emotions are off, because if you had to look at robby when he’s like this, a member of cobra kai despite ( because? ) of everything, you would have lost your fucking mind.

but that emptiness you’re feeling is better than feeling too much. it’s better than anger, better than sadness, better than guilt ( YOU SHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER TO STOP EVERY BAD THING FROM HAPPENING, ETHAN ! YOU’RE A FUCKING FAILURE ! ), better than the bone-deep, choking grief of losing your first love to monsters in the form of deranged, war-starving men. …it’s a little funny. you - the kidpool version of you - have killed people like that before, people who are so much worse than terry silver & john kreese, without so much as hesitating, or deliberating on the morality of anti-heroes. …or what your mom would say if she saw kidpool you surrounded, shoulder-deep, by corpses that were once clearly identifiable as human, ripped apart by stitched-together atoms in the form a little blond boy, small hands stained with enough wet grey matter for it to drip between your fingers. why you can’t raise a hand against your enemies in this universe is unknown, but that divine intervention is probably for the best of everyone around you.

you suppose your emotions being off again - dead & buried - is why you’re entertaining kyler & his stupid fucking antics, complete with the same gaggle of idiots. they’re back for round two. the only thing that’s different is that @vipersunion , scarlett & jaime are with them this time. why, you don’t know, nor do you really want to start chatting with them. that’s fine. you & talia are friends despite the karate war, & even though jaime is robby’s twin, you don’t really know her that well. same with scarlett. all you know is that scarlett is best friends with tory & that other girl, cosima. you’ve pretty much ignored the four of them, who are both standing off to the side with ciro while kyler recycles the same old taunts you’ve heard a thousand times.

it’s technically nine versus one; hardly fair odds given your inexperience in karate. but you’re not really counting on ciro & talia fighting you. jaime is a wildcard, but you already know that ciro’s going to stop her from fighting you if it comes down to it. it’s just kyler & four others taunting you.

you’re just standing in the middle of sam’s neighborhood, surrounded by cobra kai members who’d ran into you randomly. you’d walked from your apartment to the larusso house to clear your head, had dinner & hung out with sam, then started walking back to your apartment. they’d walked up to you. calling for back up is a little impossible right now.

you’re staring blankly at kyler & his four friends, your stance far too casual. the blank look on your face & the way you’re standing is not like you at all. it makes ciro slightly unnerved. as a result, he’s half-standing in front of talia & jaime, a warning to them ( & not to you ) is clear in his stance. ❝ don’t do anything, ❞ his body language screams. it’s not because he thinks they’re weak, but you’re the outlying factor here. you’re something he can’t predict, despite the literal millions of years of friendship between you. he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on with you lately, but the fact that it’s visibly unnerving him should be an indication to the two girls that you’re not… you, right now. ciro’s protection doesn’t extend to the other cobra kai members, which of course you’ve noticed.

GOOD. maybe you’ll get to blow off a little steam, witnesses be damned. you’ve been angry at the universe - at kreese & silver for manipulating robby - for far too long.

eventually, kyler gets annoyed at that fact that you’re not reacting to his taunts, & you simply roll your shoulders when he growls at you. you’re entirely unbothered, & a little bored, whereas kyler is growing increasingly aggravated. it’s something you’re counting on.

❝ you done? ❞ your tone is equal parts jarring to the others & robotic. it makes ciro have visceral reaction, goosebumps decorating his skin, physically scowling. he looks visibly unnerved. all of these emotions are unheard of for him. instinctively, he raises both arms up to gently push talia & jaime a step backwards. he’s treating you like a powder keg that’s about to explode, but his wariness isn’t unwarranted. something that you recognize.

you just… don’t fucking care about any of it anymore. the karate war, the crazed senseis, the drama between sam & tory. let robby do what he fucking wants. he’s a big boy, he doesn’t need you to look out for him anymore. he can ruin his own fucking life. you’re done caring.

( that’s what you think now, anyway. )

❝ no, wilson. i’m not. ❞ kyler responds coldly, all snark & no brains to the obvious change in you. you predict the first punch before his brain can tell his body what to do. he swings a punch up at your jaw easily, but you very smoothly react, grabbing his hand in your fist before the punch can connect, squeezing his hand so hard that you hear every single knuckle in his hand pop. it’s an impossibly fast, one that’s pure instinct. surprise flashes across kyler’s face, & the other cobra kai’s faces turn from taunting to surprised, alarmed or fearful. you can sense the fear coming off their entire bodies in waves. kyler is about to pull his hand back, but you hold fast. then, you sharply twist his hand without much force on your end at an awkward angle. the sound of a single but vital bone in his wrist dislocating echoes sharply across the dead empty street, & kyler screams in pain. ciro’s nose scrunches up for a half second. not at the scream, but at the sound of the bone being dislocated.

you drop his hand, then push him backwards, aiming a calculated spinning kick to the side of his head, long before kyler can even defend himself. the kick connects perfectly. kyler’s head snaps to the side, & he stumbles backwards, groaning. big red steps up to fight you next, but you simply punch him in the throat with a fraction of your true strength. the teen collapses onto the ground like a stone into water, gasping horribly for air he can’t get. his entire face goes as red as his hair in a matter of seconds. you didn’t break anything - you merely fractured something, probably important, based on the way he’s wheezing. when the third cobra kai member, alex, rushes forward to fight you, you quickly stop him in his tracks. you grab his arm, another hand reaching across his chest to force him to stop. he does, & you flip him onto his back, barely moving yourself. it’s one fluid motion, so fast that it makes ciro raise an eyebrow.

speaking of ciro, he takes more handfuls of steps backwards, instinctively pushing talia, scarlett & jaime back another step. he hasn’t said anything to you, & neither eldritch makes a move to fight their friend. ciro just quietly watches the fight, which isn’t much of one to begin with. you turn towards kyler & forcefully kick his leg out from under him, watching his knee drop to the ground to break his fall. before he can stand up, you quickly land another spinning kick on the other side of kyler’s head with your right leg. the mortal can’t block or deflect the hit in time, & he crashes to the ground, quickly using his uninjured hand to break his fall. he doesn’t get up again.

the fourth & final student, nick, puts up a smidge more of a fight, but you’re downright terrifying as you block, dodge & counter every hit he tries to throw at you, your miyagi-do training kicking in. a kick is blocked with your leg, a punch deflected with your elbow, causing him to gasp in pain. an attempt to grab you is made, but you side-step out of the way, using your new position to elbow him in the jaw - just to piss him off. he takes a step back to recollect himself, but you reach forward, speed & long limbs always an advantage in a fight like this. you grab the sides of his head before he can react or shake himself out of your grip, yanking his head down while simultaneously bringing your right knee up, kneeing him square in the face. nick collapses into a heap, a hand instinctively covering his nose, which gushes blood. based on the sickening crunch, you broke it. good. you don’t stop there. as nick stumbles back, gasping in pain, you land a single hard kick to his chest. the shorter teen drops to his knees, & you watch him collapse onto his side, clearly in pain.

alex tries to get up again, but a very light, by your standards punch to his torso makes him drop to the ground again. he looks up at you with shock in his eyes, clutching his chest & groaning. he curls up into a ball.

you’re eerily calm as you survey the damage done. you say nothing. only ciro, scarlett, talia & jaime are standing. the teens on the ground are still groaning in pain, clutching their various injuries. big red’s nose is still gushing blood, but your knuckles remain entirely unscathed. kyler tries to stand up, but you kick him once in the back, coldly telling him to stay the fuck away from you & your friends. he groans, weakly cradling his sprained wrist closer to his chest instinctively. his face is twisted in agony. you don’t know if he heard you, but you wouldn’t mind kicking his ass again some time in the future. he’s definitely going to need a hospital, like the others on the ground, but you have no intention to call anyone. he can do that with the good hand he still has.

pathetic.

❝ don’t worry, kyler, ❞ you begin calmly, voice going from dead empty to faux gentle, but you’re unable to hide the disdain you feel for him, the DISAPPOINTMENT for him not putting up more of a fight against you, ❝ you & your buddies will heal in time for the all valley in two months… probably, anyway. but… if you’re up for round fifteen or what-fucking-ever round in the meantime, name your time & place. i’ll be there. oh, & go ahead & tell your friends at cobra kai what i did, too, if you feel like it. but i doubt anyone would believe you. ❞ you add as an afterthought, tone bored.

the tense, shocked silence that falls over the group of teens means nothing to you. you’re not even winded. your heartbeat is steady, & your breathing is normal. it’s like you didn’t just beat up four cobra kai members in record time. as expected, you felt nothing the entire time. you still don’t now.

❝ this isn’t you. ❞ talia breathes. you look up at her, eyes flickering between talia, scarlett, jaime & ciro with complete disinterest. ciro instinctively tenses, but his face is set in a grimace. you shrug you shoulders.

❝ no, it’s not. ❞ you agree with her on that front. your tone remains flat. you push past the four cobra kai members without a second thought or a glance. ciro says nothing, but he’s clearly a little shocked. you raising a hand to harm mortals like this in front of him… it’s terrifying, even if it’s warranted, because kyler started picking on you. although, a thought hits you. your dark brown eyes flicker down towards jaime, holding her gaze unflinchingly. your eyes are startling. there’s nothing there. not an inkling of warmth, or who you were trying to be. the chaotic but good-natured boy is dead. the karate war wounded him, but robby picking cobra kai was the final nail in the coffin for you, it seems like. your eyes are entirely devoid of emotion.

❝ do me a favor, jaime. tell the mighty, untouchable king cobra that if he wants revenge for hospitalizing his new friends, he knows where to fucking find me. ❞ you tell her, the words coated in venom that’s very unlike you. ( the sarcastic bite, however, is. ) with that said, you shove both of your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt, continuing to walk down the sidewalk, leaving the stunned cobra kai members in the street.

[lazarus-hope-project]

[Another Moon Phase Name] I'm Lazy || Tsuki || Trial 3 || RE: Yuu, Atsuko

"Are you seriously f--"

She clenches her fists, quickly closing her mouth before she can finish that thought. Taking a deep breath, she exhales all of her growing frustration and irritation at the way this discussion seems to be heading. At the way these people seem to be acting.

Were she not a holy woman she would beat all of you senseless.

And maybe she still will at this rate.

"Let us... All take a deep breath, and calm ourselves. As satisfying as it would be for some people,"

All Atsuko's in the room this means you.

"Threats and violence will surely get us no where. It surely won't make Yuu any more willing to talk. So let us collect ourselves, our thoughts, our rational, and... Try again. Without anger clouding our judgements and words."

Though to be honest she still feels a lingering irritation at the back of her mind, gnawing away at her self restraint. For now, she ignores it. Turning to Yuu with a calm composure as she begins to speak.

"If I remember correctly... When we spoke last, before the gas was released, you had a notebook on you, yes yes? When we spoke of the French and their fabrics. You had one on you then, so where is it now? Do you still have it?"

She quirks her head to the side with a hum.

"Can you at least answer us that much?"

"...Or will you continue to stubbornly refuse? Not that I am judging, of course, just curious. It is just you've been helpful the past two trials before this, but now you've had a change of heart? Or is it simply out of a need for survival you act this way? ...Either way, I suppose it doesn't matter. Forgive me for my ramblings. Do carry on."

God is a liar she is absolutely judging.