#otherwise you'd be getting them at lord knows what hours of the day/night

[vamp-a-day]

day 25

i was gonna like Actually color this but i don't really have the time for that

[k-dokja]

Ion want to write properly, so have some Samuel's reader in the aftermath of the current events.

— You don't sleep much these days. Between the late nights at the office and errands for Eugene, you're everywhere and nowhere all at once. You dislike the idea that your performance might take a hit because you have to deal with the workload of two at once.

&. So you stay at the office for longer hours, delegate your responsibilities to no one, and find yourself missing Samuel after the thirtieth hour without sleep. It's a miserable existence, but you've chosen this as your own.

&. You're cautious, even if time and time again, you've shown people otherwise. All to put them from your tracks when you inevitably triumph. You've bided your time and waited for this moment since you departed from Big Deal.

&. You should celebrate, feel happy. But the fatigue sinks its teeth into you and you feel its venom spread. This is nowhere near the glory you've envisioned, you've come to power in Workers during a tumultuous time.

&. Lord knows it has been a struggle when it was Samuel and you. Now you have to take the wheel with no one in the passenger seat. But any admittance to feeling lonely is a weakness and you're not foolish enough to succumb to your own flaws now.

&. Eugene visits every now and then. His sugarcoated version of an explanation ranges between wanting to see the new President adjusting and worrying that your newfound duty might overwhelm you. It's sickeningly sweet how he smiles, all artifact and joyless.

&. You know he only wants to test your loyalty. After your close association with Samuel while working with him, it's evident that Eugene will come to suspect your actions. He shouldn't have put you in power if he didn't think you'd be loyal to him.

&. You wouldn't in his position. Better to throw away both at once. But after checking multiple times that you have no involvement with Samuel's betrayal, he has decided to keep you. Maybe he bet on the resentment you have for Samuel for keeping you out of the loop.

&. He was right for that. Samuel went out of his ways acting stupid for personal profit, you'd throw him under the bus given the chance. But it doesn't matter now, Samuel's gone and you're the one who's in charge. Unlike him, you have no intention of slacking.

&. Nobody cares if you have to work more, sleep less, and think over time. Not while the mountains of works await for you every morning. You have a profit to make and no intention to fall behind while others get their gold.

&. And what if Samuel's—your—penthouse is now unlived? No point in making a home out of it when you only need to return occasionally to refresh yourself. Besides, staying there would only make you think of him and you can't afford to do that.

&. Samuel has made his bed and laid in it, any regret you have for him won't help anyone. Least of all somebody who's no longer with you.

[yandere-wishes]

Sacrificial Bride Part 1//Twisted Wonderland X Reader//

Alright well, that's enough writing for the next few days if you excuse me I'm going to go sulk in my corner. Huge thanks to @softyswork​ who’s story about reader being sent to Malleus as a bride inspired this series. Also, I REALLY want to make some sort of modern-day Frankenstein it would be an amazing scientific breakthrough! You'll understand what I mean when you get to Idia's part lol.

💚🐉Malleus Draconia🐉💚

It was a common rumor around your village that ever since the death of the sleeping princess your settlement had never been the same. For you, this was nothing more than a fairy tale meant to spark a scrap of hope in the hearts of naive, suffering children who were still too young to fully understand why their fathers never returned from their hunting trips or why there was barely anything to eat for dinner.

Every time you heard this dreaded tail, you couldn't help but scuff. For as long as you've been alive your town had been in utter disarray and chaos. Monsters from the woods -what the town's folk called "fae"- attacked the village daily. Stealing jewels, destroying homes, sometimes even swallowing children or sucking the blood of the dormant. There was also the looming threat of the green flames. Blazing emerald fires who couldn't be subdued by neither water nor dirt. They advanced further into the territory of the village by each full cycle of the moon. Leaving behind in their trail, thick impenetrable thorn bushes that had taken the homes of many and the lives of many more.

Awful, dreaded creatures those fae where...

But alas you did not yet know just how cruel they could be.

On another periodic morning, your younger sister jolted you awake, dragging you to the town center before you got a chance to change out of your nightgown.

In the center of the square was short man..no...not a man you noticed his pointed drawn back ears. "Fae" you gasped under your breath. But unlike the monstrous fairies that ravished your town taking on the appearances of trees and woodland creatures, this one resembled a boy of 15. The young-looking male began to speak, his voice was clear like crystals, and to his tone bats began to flock overhead. "Truly dreadful, these fairy folk are" your sister uttered in terror as she buried her face in your side.

"Heed my words, mortals. The young prince of thorns has decided to take a wife. By the setting of the sun a full day from today, two of his guards will come to collect your offering. If you chose to disregard this Wa-- friendly advice, then what is left of your town will be decimated before the end of summer. Your children eaten, wives imprisoned and husbands killed!" An unsteady hush rippled through the crowd. Some hothead youths began to throw rocks at the stranger only for the bats hovering above to shield him from the stones. Mothers hugged their children close begging for the man to "just leave".

"If" the man's voice rose once more like a cadaver emerging from the grave " my young master is pleased with your sacrifice than we shall reward you! Bring good health and prosperity to your otherwise sick and decaying village." His last words melted into the open air before he vanished in a cloud of squealing bats and ebony smoke.

The town's folk erupted in screeches, cursing at their deities while simultaneously praying to any god that would listen.

"Help us!"

"save us!"

"Don't let them take our daughters!"

The screams escalated to the point where you had to cover your ears with your shaking hands. Your eyes scanning each of the villager's faces, a pathetic lot they were, you thought to yourself. Scared by the words of a young magician. In a flash, your heart sped up, adrenaline pumping through your veins, as you marched to the center square where the boy had been mere moments ago. You stood tall, cupping your hands over your mouth.

"Listen well you disquiet, mindless lot!"

All eyes turned to you. Some holding looks of confusion, whilst others harbored glances of hope.

"This fae is lying! No way will they be satisfied with just one measly girl! No matter who we sacrifice to their so-called master, they'll still come after us! They'll still destroy our village! Let's not be stupid! Let's find a way to barricade the city instead of arguing over who to sacrifice!"

For an endless second all was quite. It was like the world had stopped turning, frozen in its place in the universe trying to decide what to do.

Then it happened,

Chants reverberating through the air

"Sacrifice her!" "Sacrifice her!"

"Sacrifice her!" "Sacrifice her!"

"Sacrifice her!"........................

WHAT!

NO!

DID THOSE MORONS NOT LISTEN TO A SINGLE WORD YOU SAID!

The crowd started advancing. Eyes locked on your figure like those of a leopard on its prey.  Their mouths were all a gap, chanting the words "sacrifice" over and over again. From behind the mob, your eyes locked with your sister's. You could practically feel the despair rolling off her figure as she covered her eyes and fell to her knees, her whole body rattling with a sort of distant rage...

A full day....it's funny how time passes all so quickly no matter what you do. Day in and day out nothing changes, pain is still pain, laughter is still laughter. Time just keeps slipping from between your fingers like sand. Even in the direst of times, Time doesn't show mercy, never once does it cease. It just ticks and ticks away until the inevitable moment arrives.

Your sister and aunt -the only two relatives that you hadn't lost to the fae- were in charge of preparing you for your so-called "wedding". Since your town was poor and isolated from other civilizations there wasn't much they could do to enhance your beauty. Smashing some berries to add color to your lips -and fervently ravishing the remains- using some coal to add shade behind your eyes, as well as around them and patting the dust of rose petals against your cheek. By the end, you hardly recognized the person staring back from the mirror. Sure the adjustments were minor but this was the most stunning you'd ever looked. "Is it almost time" your voice quivered, failing to hide the tears that began to fall. "Please don't cry sweetheart, we don't have any more coal to fix your eyes with." Your aunt's tone was monotone almost bordering on heartless. You couldn't really blame her, she'd gotten so used to having her loved ones plucked from her. One more would be no different. Sniffing as to keep the tears at bay, you nodded slowly. Your glossy eyes locked with your aunt's you could see the same fear and exhaustion in her fading irises as the night her son was slaughtered in front of her.

"Just a few reminders" your sister's voice was cheery like the chirping of early morning birds, but her face mimicked that of a kicked puppies. "Remember when the prince...fae...when he..you know...Oh, Lord please tell me he won't" She was shivering again. Her face twisted in horror. You knew what she was thinking, she was imagining you laying in the bed of that...that thing. She was imagining him entering you, kissing up and down your neck. Leaving patches of red skin over smooth flesh, bruises wherever his clawed hands touched you. She was imagining what was no doubt going to happen to you tonight...

the mere thought made bile rise to your throat.

"Darling, just keep saying how much you like it. It's all any man wants to hear." again your aunt or rather her lackluster form of speech was the rope binding you to your sanity.

"Do fae even have...those parts like humans do?" Your sister asked, only to be met with a glare from your aunt. "Stop wasting time on pointless questions! Hurry up and see if this dress fits your sister."

Sure enough, as you were escorted to where the thorn bushes met the village, two men, one standing tall and proud, whilst the other looked like he may topple over from fatigue at any moment, were awaiting you.

The green-haired man let out a haughty laugh, his blazing eyes scanning you from head to toe. "She's hardly worthy of the young master!" His dreadful voice was like the booming of thunder clouds. "It doesn't matter, Malleus-sama needs to be wedded off quickly so he can produce an heir. None of us are getting any younger by standing here debating the "worthiness" of yet another measly human" the silver-haired male's voice was the exact opposite of his comrades, his voice was soft and breathy like light drizzle after a storm.

The green-haired man looked ready to argue once more, but before he could open his mouth, his violet-eyed counterpart waved something thin in the air casing a pathway to open between the hedges.

It was dark between the brambles. The air was thick, stuffy, every breath was a struggle. Although it seemed neither of your traveling buddies minded the discomfort. Did fae even need air to survive?

After what could have been no less than a couple of hours, your small group made it to a large clearing where only a few rays of the sun leaked through the thick smoky clouds. Miss matched flowers in shades of grey littered the rocky barren ground. Maybe at some point, this place had been beautiful, stunning even...but whenever that time had been it was long gone now.

As you ventured farther into this monochrome land of loss and sorrow, the three of you approached a castle. It towered over everything else, grim in all its glory. "Young master Malleus is awaiting you inside..." The green-haired male's voice trailed off as his speech was interrupted by the deafening creaking of the doors parting open. Without another word the two men dragged you inside, pushing you through spiral staircases and long bleak passageways. Until you arrived at a lavish-looking room, a large throne sitting smugly in the front of the room. It's black, spiked appearance was enough to make you gasp in horror, you didn't desire to meet the monster that perched atop that throne. "Don't be so afraid." the silver-haired man whispers, his head is almost resting on your shoulder. "Malleus-sama is kind and fair. He is sure to love you better than any human ever could." you catch a hint of nostalgic sadness in the last part, like a long lost part of the lavender eyed boy's past caught in his throat like a glass shard.

Trumpets roared through the room blaring as two men, one short and fickle whilst the other tall and brooding walked in. "Malleus~" The short one sang as they both stopped in front of you "Say hello to your lovely new wife." the tall man's emerald eyes landed on you. His lips parted in a threatening smile...or maybe it was a smirk? He didn't seem to be too good at displaying emotions. Slowly he descended onto one knee, slipping your hand into his and kissing the top lightly.

"Hello, my darling little wife."

🧡🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁🧡

The After Glow Savanna was an absolute hell to be born in if your family did not belong to some royal inner court class. The endless days spent scavenging for scraps of food, walking miles for a simple glass of water, had become a sort of broken, habit beaten into the residents of the smaller less fortunate districts.

Eventually, you too would follow in your parent's footsteps, working odd jobs around the neighborhood, getting married to some guy, having kids, and giving them the same dreary life your parents had given you. It was simple -miserable- but simple never the less. In an odd way, you found a sort of comfort in how everything was set in stone. How you'd suffer through a few years then die of starvation or some disease in your husband's arms.

But little did you know that the only comfort you had in your horrible life was also going to be swiped from you.

When Ruggie, a dear childhood friend of yours returned from his prestigious school for the winter holidays you were overjoyed! A week with your best friend was the greatest gift you could ask for! But that excitement soon dulled when he announced to the neighborhood what the royal family had planned for the underdeveloped parts of the country.

"They want to demolish the homes and build parks and shopping strips instead"

The people of your tiny community gasped, shock and hopelessness mixing over their dirty, worn out faces. Some older siblings shielded the ears of their younger kin, some mothers hugged their children closer to their chests. "They can't do that to us!" Your voice was like a beacon through the thick fog of confusion. "We can't let them!" You turned to Ruggie who was seated next to you. His blue-grey eyes held a foreign sadness that you had never seen before. He was hiding something...something so grim that he was forced to shove it into the depths of his soul, locking it up and throwing away the key.

"There is a way..."

For such a hopeful phrase, Ruggie's tone harbored no happiness. You could practically see the tears that were clouding his beautiful eyes. "Tell us" someone from the crowd demanded, others soon joined in with their own chants. For a long moment, Ruggie said nothing, the shouts of despair falling on deaf ears.

"If.." his voice trailed off, as his gaze grew distant.

"If someone from the neighborhood were to marry the second prince..." Gasps of fear filled the air. Even the mere mention of the second prince's name was enough to send chills down people's spins.

"Then they could, as the newly appointed  princess, convince the royal family and counsel to scrap this monstrous plan." No one uttered another word. No one was brave enough to face the man who could destroy anything with a simple touch.

But the sake of these people, people who had nothing but their families and a muddy roof over their head was on the line.

Do something, a tiny voice in your head screamed, save them, it begged. You shifted your head so to get a glimpse of Ruggie's face. "I-" you began but were cut off before you could even finish.

"I know you would say that."

His voice broke over every syllable. He knew you would give up your depressing nostalgia for the sake of others. Life in the castle would be hell, being married to that monster would be something worst than the dwellings of the devil.

It was a speedy arrangement, so fast that your head didn't have time to process anything. In the end, it almost seemed like the royal family was desperate to find a spouse for their youngest son.

Just marry him! Was what all the absentee looks told you.

Early that morning, Ruggie had dragged you to the castle, all tears, and grumbles. The palace guards let him in with no restrain, it almost felt like he'd been here before. Your childhood friend led you to a room in the further corner of a grand hall. He told you to stay outside as he went in to chat with the prince. Moments later the newly appointed king and queen came to usher you into a privet room and discuss the marriage. Not an hour later your fate had been sealed, you'd be married off to prince Leona tomorrow at sunrise. For "historical purposes" your neighborhood would be preserved and even taken care of. 'Historical purposes' you thought 'more the like a bribe to get you to marry this beast.

that night you were dragged this way and that by the queen herself. Taken for fitting after fitting. Trying on hundreds of wedding dresses who's prices could feed every mouth in your neighborhood for months! "Leona isn't very classy" the queen sighed in disappear. "He would probably prefer you to be in something laxer, shorter if you will" the tailors ran around trying to find something that would fit her vague description, as you stood facing her royal highness.

"What's he like?" you asked soullessly

"Spoiled, although not as heartless as the rumors make him out to be"  She didn't seem to like giving straight answers

"will he harm me? It was an honest question, although the lack of thinking it took before the queen replied made your heart skipped a beat.

"Quite possibly, he is rather...aggressive at times. Just don't let his degrading comments get to you. He's not used to being around people"

The more she described the second-born prince the more it seemed she was actually speaking of some feral dog that had raised in isolation.

Oh, how doomed you were.

The wedding was even faster than the preparation. Ruggie walked you down an aisle of flowers, walking over the petals, killing them once and for all, ending their pointless existence. You stood by your self at the altar awaiting your husband to be. It took a rather long time before the doors were flung open and the king waltzed in carrying his struggling brother under his arm. "No need to worry, Leona was taking one of his catnaps again and forgot about today's events" the king announced, in what could only be described as a mock lively tone.

How on earth does someone forget their wedding! This prince really wasn't a typical human...heck you where beginning to think that the feral dog would have made a better groom.

snap, snap

A few magazine pictures here, a couple of family photos there...

Everything was so bright and loud...

right before you and the second prince were thrown into the darkness of his room. In the obscurity, you could ONLY make out the glowing of his emerald eyes.

You could feel him shifting closer, all the while you took shaking steps backwards. " I thought wives were supposed to leap into the arms of their husbands? Tell me little herbivore do I frighten you?"

Your voice refused to leave your throat, too afraid to come into contact with the prince.

"What's the matter? Did they not teach you to speak in on the streets you grew up on. Poor thing~"

Leona pounced across the room, tackling you to the ground. His sheer weight pinning you to the carpeted floor. The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the silence.

How careless these royal were was the only intelligible thought that came to your frenzied brain.

Goosebumps littered your skin as Leona's claws cut into your flesh. His lips kissed over each wound as he made his way up to your cherry painted lips.

"You look so cute, you know, like a little mouse about to get devoured by a starving lion."

💙💀Idia Shroud💀💙

The rhythm of his heartbeat was slowing down, it felt like the patter of ants atop one's flesh. He was dying...this was an irreversible fact. The love of your life was dying and there was nothing you could do but sit idly by and watch the life fade from his pale bruised face. Your thumb ran over his knuckles in robotic-like strokes. Hours had passed, you'd shed all the tears that you had. He was gone...that was all there was to it.

For a hopeless second, you flicked your eyes to the open window on the opposite side of the room, There was never any sun on the island of lamination but regardless today seemed brighter than any other day. "How cruel" you muttered in a deadpan voice. Outside something...or better yet...someone was running through the fields, chasing what looked like a butterfly. The young child had blazing blue hair a symbol of the Shroud family...

THE SHROUD FAMILY

Your breath hitch in your lungs, your heart began to pound furiously in your chest. They could help you though hopefully. There family where distant relatives of the god of the underworld and a few years back -to your regulation- the hair of the family had been able to semi revive his younger brother. If he was able to bring back a child from the dead than surly they would have no problem returning your lost lover to you.

Your eyes waltz over his dormant face one last time before you got up and ran for the door.

"This is all for you my love, all of this is for you"

The Shroud family mansion was located at the top of one of the many hills that plagued the island. It was a dark grisly building that resembled the castles from old tales, where monsters laid dormant. Rumors spiraled around the rural civilization, some saying that the family was cursed by the lord of the dead, whilst others claimed that the shroud family were the long lost descendants of the lord of the dead and the maiden of spring. The curse had been placed on the family by the temperamental mother of the maiden of spring, anathematizing the family to be plagued with death and disappear for the rest of eternity.

Regardless of what their misfortune was, they may very well be the last people on earth who could help you. Surely if the family had brought back their youngest than they could bring back your lover!

You knuckles tapped furiously at the old metal doors of the frightful residence. The rhythm was unkept, unsteady, it's mere sound radiated urgency.

"PLEASE HELP ME"

Your throat burned as you screamed out those three lousy words.

After what felt like forever, the doors cracked open, revealing a tall man obscured by the shadows. Any light that touched the interior of the house seemed to die acidity, making peering inside nearly impossible.

"What business do you have?" The man's voice was croaky as if his vocal cords hadn't been used in years. For a split second, you closed your eyes, trying to organize the thoughts in your head. "My...my...h-hus...lover, my lover is d-dead...o-or rather he is dying....probably fully gone by now..." despite the mess of stuttered letters and mixed-up words, the man seemed to understand your situation. With a long sigh, he pulled you into the somber house.

Fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist he pulled you around, guiding you through the darkness until you reached a large room lit only by the mysterious blue flames of the fireplace. Sitting by the warmth was a...well it was hard to tell, her face -despite it displaying every bone of her visage coupled with dark sunken eyes- resembled that of a woman no older than thirty, whilst her body resembled a decaying skeleton. What was she? Was she the lady of the residence or yet another monster this bizarre family had created.

"My, love" the man began to speak, his voice was somehow cleared like it had been given some sort of jolt. "This young lady needs Idia's help, she wants to bring back her lover from the dead."

The woman said nothing, her eyes staring ahead, burning a hole in the wall right by your head. "What will she give him in return" despite her "deteriorating" appearance her voice was like soft silk on one's skin, melodious and fair.

"Why herself!" This time the man's voice boomed across the house, echoing through the hallways and falling on you like a cave in.

"M-myself! What the hell do you mean!"

"It sounds fair" the women agreed "my darling sweet son saves your lover and instead you agree to marry him! Oh how wonderful, just like in the tales about grandfather Hades!"

She seemed too thrilled about this, her snow-white eyes gleaming with a sort of delusional passion.

"Idia! Idia honey! Come down your father has a surprise for you!"

The hollow sound of footsteps soon filled the quiet air. Followed by another soft blue glow.

Was there no normal fire in this house?

But it wasn't fire, not exactly. When your eyes fell on the heir of the Shroud family, you suddenly felt a nervous wave crash over you. There was something -even more- unsettling about him, he looked nothing like his charming little brother. For one his hair wasn't...well hair! Sure you'd expect a small batch of blazes heading upwards but this was something else entirely! It resembled a large bonfire that floated towards the ground, rouge sparks falling in every which direction, sizzling and then dying abandoned on the floor. And his eyes, Miosis like pupils floating around in a pool of lemon yellow.

But all the physical appearances aside, the most unsettling thing about him was the gloomy aura that leaked off him, suffocating anyone in his presence. Nervously you took a step back only to be yanked forward again by the taller man.

"Idia baby!" His mother ran over to him, cradling his hands in hers "This cute young lady has agreed to marry you if you can save her lover, just like in that old tale about your great grandfather! Oh, my this is all so romantic!"

It seemed like no one here understood that you were in love WITH SOMEONE ELSE! Or maybe they did and chose to disregard it. Instead, using the bits they retained as kindling to feed their raw excitement. You shifted your gaze back to Idia's face. To your utter terror, he was...smiling? Could that...look...even be called a smile? It seemed more like the way a shark would bare its teeth at a defenseless seal! Oh, gods please don't let this...thing...be your future husband!

"It should be easy enough," His golden gaze landed on you "W-when did...did he die?" it took a few moments before you register that he was talking to you or technically asking you something. "A...A  few..." your voice cracked, tears streaming down your eyes.

"So recently...okay that shouldn't be a p-problem." He turned on his heels and walked back into the seclusion of the halls "I'll grab some things and meet you by the front door"

A few things ended up being a pile of wires and bolts. Something that looked like a light blue ball of energy and so many tools whose names seemed to go over your head.

Idia was kneeling by your lover's bed, pulling apart the skin and fusing metal in its place. Your darling's chest was cracked open, his ribs poking out towards the sky as if praying for life from the lord of the sky. Every once in awhile Idia would pull out a long tool with smoke floating from the top. He'd lay it on an organ watching as the tissue fiber sizzled away under the heat. He would then tie wires and small circular batteries inside.

"His heart stopped working, I'm guessing from some sort of shock"

You just hummed in response, too caught up in how the man you loved was beginning to look like a modern-day Frankenstein rather than a human being.

The sun had long since faded when Idia finally got up from his spot. His bones cracked and screeched at the sudden change, his muscles giving out halfway leaving him to rely on the wall for support to stand. Your lover's chest had been sewn back and covered with a silver piece of metal. His neck was wrapped in the same sort of alloy. His left arm had been cut open so Idia could shove the energy ball inside than cover it, leaving a small enough gap for wires that stretched from his chest to weld into the ball.

"He just needs a boost" Idia murmured that shark-like grin overtaking his pale face once more. From the side table, he plucked up to jumper cables and clipped them on either side of his neck. Jolts and crackles filled the room and sparks flew in every direction, the once-dead body shuffled around, arms and legs moving at random. You shrieked and duck behind Idia.

Only then did he pry the clips from his neck.

Nothing

for too long nothing happened... then there was a slight wiggle in one finger, then another. His eyes slowly began to prey open, looking over his surroundings. The moment his confused gaze feel onto you. Idia turned you around to face him, clumsily smashing his blue chapped lips onto yours.

From the corner of his eyes, Idia watched as the other man began to understand what was happening...even if he was just resurrected there was still agony at the sight of his lover kissing another...

Good! That should show him who you belonged to now!

[catxsnow]

ADMIT IT D.W.

Summary: You crush on the great Boy Wonder was a little more than obvious

Warning: Older!Damian fLiRtInG

A/N: Damian is like early twenty’s here. 

GIF not mine

Word count: 2k

It was a stormy night in Gotham. Rain poured from the dark sky and thunder boomed continuously. It seemed like any other night in that dreaded city. Day in day out, nothing but clouds and overcast. It was like the sun never shined in that city. If this was God's cruel punishment against the city, then you couldn't blame him.

Between the crime rates, the horrible citizens, and the corrupt police force, Gotham was no sanctuary. It was a city made for sinners, thugs, and those unfortunate few who had no chance of escape. You hated Gotham, you hated it enough to try and fight against the dreaded nights and sorrow days.

You worked by yourself, but it wasn't a surprise if part of Batman and crew showed up to your fight scene. They allowed you to continue your fight against crime as a vigilante, but they didn't dare trust you enough to take down important missions on your own. Sometimes you appreciated their help, most times, it was a nuisance.

It had been only a few years since you started this gig. Slowly at first, taking down petty thefts and drunk assholes. Then you started reaching the bigger leagues, the crime lords and mobsters. Soon, you became popular enough to be within Batman's radar.

The night was quiet, despite the loud thunder that rolled across the clouds. You saw the outline of Robin standing along the building edge. His cape flowed in the wind and his shadow cast upon the city as lightening struck behind him. You scoffed to yourself, but nonetheless flipped over to him.

"Dramatic much?" you asked. Judging by Robin's build, his voice, even the way he moved, you guessed that he had to have been around your age. At least, he was the closet out of all the others. You were nearing twenty-one, just shy of being able to buy your own drinks.

"Quiet out there tonight, huh?" You asked as he didn't reply. Robin seemed to tolerate you, nothing more, nothing less. He spoke very few extra words than needed and always had a snarky tone. You couldn't tell if that was because of his facade, or if that was who he really was.

Even so, after working with him several times, you couldn't help but be attracted to him. His voice, his actions, the way that he beat the ever living hell out of douchebags. Robin finally turned to face you, jumping down from the small ledge that he once stood.

"It is," he agreed. Truth be told, around you - it was an act. He would never admit that he enjoyed time with you. "That doesn't mean that you need to come bother me."

"But you're my favourite person to bother," you approached him. Damian stood still as you dragged your gloved hands up his chest and rested them at the bottom of his neck. "Why can't you just admit that you like my little visits."

"Because then I'd be falling into Batman's footsteps with Catwoman," Robin scoffed. He would never allow himself to admit that he did enjoy seeing you on the rooftops. Most times when he was on his own, he wished that you would show up to see him, even if it was just a coincidence.

His eyes would linger on you, the suit you wore was tight around every perfect curve of your body. Even the way you swaggered towards him like you knew god damn well that any man watching was eyeing you up. Damian wanted his eyes to be the only ones on you.

"Ugh," You rolled your eyes. You had a few run ins with Catwoman, none of them ending well. "I'm nothing like her. She's a thief, I fight for the good guys. I'm on your side, it's okay to admit it." You took another step closer to him so your chests touched.

You had a bad habit of shamelessly flirting with him. Robin was well aware of your attempts to flirt with him - and if he was any good at it he would have flirted back. Instead, his words came out cryptic. You often were confused by what he was feeling - his body was relaxed near you but his words said otherwise.

"Come on, Robin. Just one little word, just admit it," a Cheshire grin covered your cheeks as you stood on your toes. Your lips just barely brushed against his before pulling away. Fuck, did Damian want to pull you in, to kiss your properly after all these months of teasing him like this. You never gave him the satisfaction of what your lips truly felt like.

Damian's shoulders stiffened. He knew very little about you. Hell, he didn't even know your name, where you came from, how old you were. Yet, without knowing anything about you, he still found himself wanting to agree to your pleas. To admit that he enjoyed your company was to admit that he liked you. How could he like someone without even knowing them?

"I'll get you one day," you promised him. Damian watched as you backed away from him. The sway in your hips was entrancing and he couldn't look away. You stood up on the ledge that he was previously at. With a wink in his direction, you flipped off and soared down. Damian's breath caught in his throat, worried that you were going to fall to your death.

Not even a second later, you came flying back up again. A grappling gun was secured in the palm of your hand and your laugh echoed through the stormy night. Damian furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his belt. You had stolen the grappling gun from him. Had you just used him to get the tech? Or did you genuinely want him to admit that he liked your visits? He wouldn't know.

"Fuck." Me.

><

Damian wished that he could get you out of his head. As Robin, as himself, he couldn't do it. He spent hours at night thinking about you, who you really were. He wanted to meet you, the real you. He tried finding out who you were, but you were careful - careful enough for Batman to have not figured it out yet.

He wanted to see you again. At night, he searched for you rather than searching for crime. He needed to see you again. This ache in his chest was driving him crazy and seeing you again was the only thing that was going to fix it. Damian was only frustrated by these feelings, he didn't want them to affect his everyday life but here he was.

It was over a week since your last encounter. He hadn't seen you, or any signs that you were even out on the streets. Damian was getting worried about you, he always saw that you were protecting the city at least once every few days. It was far too long to have no signs at all.

Damian overlooked the city from one of the tallest buildings in Gotham. It was stormy out again, this time the rain pounded against his skin, soaking him to the bone. He was cold, miserable, and was ready to call it a night and head back home.

"The Boy Wonder," a voice from behind him spoke. Damian nearly sighed in relief at the sound of your voice. He spun around to see you leaning against one of the arches. The grappling hook that you stole from him was tightly secured around your waist. He looked down at it. "Sorry, I don't exactly have the money to get one of my own, figured you'd have lots."

You weren't wrong. There were tons in the batcave, he just wasn't particularly excited to tell Batman that you had taken one from him. You strolled up to him, wiping some of the water that drenched your face off. It was useless, the rain wouldn't stop.

Damian noticed the stitches that laced up your cheek. His hand went up to your face, skimming just below where you had been cut. "What happened?" He asked, concern in his voice.

"Didn't realize you cared, Robin," you joked. As he moved his hand once more, you winced in pain. He went to lower his hand but you placed yours on top, forcing him to stay there. "Got myself into some trouble right after I saw you last. Thought I could take them, pulled out of pair of brass and well..." you trailed off. "It was nothing bad. Just a cut and some bruises. Had to stay home for a few days."

So, he was right to be worried. You were fine now, but what about the next time? What about the time that you aren't going to make it out with such ease?

"I'm fine, now," You told him, as if you were reading his thoughts. The brief look of sadness in your eyes was instantly replaced. "Better now that I'm with you.” You tried to reach for another one of his weapons but Damian was too quick. He latched onto your hand before you could steal something else of his.

You tried to interlock your fingers but, Damian pulled away and he once again went back to his rigid form. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were up here looking for me." You gestured to the high skyline and then looked back at Robin.

"I was looking to see if there was any criminal activity," Robin corrected. Lies. He was looking for you, but he wasn't going to tell you that. "But I am glad to see you aren't dead."

"Why because you'd miss me?" You teased. You jumped around him, flipping here and there to get some of the pent up energy released. Being forced to stay at home had you going stir crazy. However, with the rain making the roof top more slippery, you had lost you footing and nearly fell right off the edge. Robin had grabbed your wrist just in time, pulling you with so much force that you landed into his chest.

"Because you owe me," he referred to the grappling hook. He didn't mind you keeping it. "Twice, now."

"Mhmm, I could make up for it, right now. Up here, on this rooftop, with no one around," you suggested. The only reason that he knew you weren't completely serious was the joking tone in your voice. Yet, he swore he could feel your finger traceing his chest plate right on his skin. His thigh trapped between your legs, and you were nearly begging for attention. "Just the two of us."

He was tempted. God, was he tempted. Damian didn't care if anyone would show up, he would gladly accept your offer. But he couldn't, he knew he couldn't. So, as much as he wanted to, he denied. You pouted at him, which had made it even harder for him to decline your idea.

"Come work with Batman and I," Robin suddenly countered your offer. "The tech, the protection, at least someone will have your back so this doesn't happen again."

You pulled away from him. Batman had already offered to become a part of his team. You were sure he had a stickler for having young kids under his wing but you weren't eager to become one of them. It was easier to work alone, at least that way you would never have guilt of messing up with them.

"It was nice seeing you again, Robin," you had done the exact same thing as last time, flipping off the roof to dive into the streets. This time however, as you left, the playful smile wasn't on your face, but a frown. Were you really that offended to be working with a team? Damian was sure that you would have jumped on the opportunity to be able to see him more.

Damian frustratingly sighed. He ran a hand through his soaked hair. What was it going to take for you to join him? He just wanted you safe. Damian would never be able to forgive himself if you died while trying to save the city because you couldn't agree to work with him.

><

Avoiding Robin was easier said than done. Firstly, you didn't want to avoid him, you wanted to be there with him, teasing him like you always did. Secondly, between him, the Bats, and the others, it was near impossible to get anything done without being spotted by them. Yet, you managed.

Not being able to see Robin made you realize how much you actually liked him. It wasn't just playfully flirting, but a hope that he would in fact be able to recognize your affection. You wanted to know who he was, as a real person not as some side kick of Batman. Whoever was hiding under the mask was your number one goal to find out.

Maybe the only way to do that, was to join him.

You didn't want the pressure that being on a team came with. People relying on you? No, that wasn't something you were ready for. But maybe, with their help you could be ready for it. Maybe if they were so adamant on you joining, then they needed you just as much as you needed them.

So, instead of avoiding Robin, you searched for him. It had been weeks since you had seen him last. The gap in your visits was hard on you. It made you wonder how you could care for someone who you didn't even know. Robin thought the same thing, you just weren't aware of it.

"You must be getting tired of this rain too," You nearly jumped at the voice from behind you. Robin was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed over his chest and a satisfied look on his face. Finally, he found you. He just wasn't aware that you let him find you, you wanted to see him again.

"By this point. I'm used to it," You answered. "Besides, getting to see you all wet like this? Mmm, that's a treat all in itself." You dragged a hand through his wet hair, having to stand up on your toes to even be able to reach. God, did you love when he got flustered to the point of not knowing what to say.

"It's been a while," Robin stated. You shrugged at him, pretending that the time that you spent away didn't bother you. Of course it did, but seeing the disappointed look on his face that you didn't seem to care? That was worth it.

"I was busy," You nonchalantly informed, waking away from him and back into the rain. It was true, you did have several busy nights but for the most part, things had been quiet, boring even. "Who do you think put Two-Face back in Arkham?"

"I figured as much," Robin stalked back over to you. He stood right by your side, brushing against your suit.

"You miss me?" You smirked up at him. He should have expected that question, you asked it nearly every time. However, the tone in your voice, the way that you were holding yourself up, it caught him off guard. You were genuinely wanting him to say that he had missed you - and after all these times that he denied it - he admitted it.

"Yes."

You looked up at him in shock. Robin always found a way to change the subject or come up with some sort of quip that ensured you that he didn't miss you when you disappeared. You could always tell that he was lying when he denied it but hearing him finally admit that he missed you meant everything to you.

Damian finally looked down to you. He didn't mean to blurt out the answer but he couldn't hide the truth any longer. Seeing you was always the highlight of his night, he couldn't deny that any longer.

"I want to see you, as much as I can," Damian continued on. He was surprising himself by these words, it was rare that he spoke of his emotions. "These little visits, they're not enough for me any longer. I need to see you, to fill this void in my chest when I'm not with you. Come work with me, please."

You were nearly as shocked by his words as he was. Robin never uttered a word of how he cared for you, how he craved to see you. Hearing him say this was everything that you ever wanted to hear. You cared for him, but could never accept that he cared for you back, he never proved it to you that he did.

After a moment of silence, Damian began to panic. Did you not feel the same way? Was the flirting just a trick? A game? No, it couldn't be.

Damian watched as you reached up towards your face, peeling of that mask that covered half your face. You met his eyes when your face was bare, revealing who you were and what you truly looked like. Damian was in awe of your beauty, everything about you was just as perfect as he had imagined.

"(Y/N)," You told him. "(Y/N) (L/N). I proved to you that I care enough about you, now prove to me that you care enough for me to join." You didn't expect him to do the same action as you - maybe one day but not yet. However, you also didn't expect what he actually did, either.

Damian kissed you.

His hands cupped the sides of your face, wishing that he didn't have these gloves on so he could feel you. Rain drops raced down your skin, between your lips that parted when needing a breath of air. Bodies pressed so close together that nothing could have broken you apart.

He kissed you with all this pent up desire that you constantly left him with. The worry that he had for you when you were on the streets by yourself. The neediness that he felt every time he was near you. He kissed you like he had cared about you for years.

Damian pulled away from you, his fingers still resting your facing. He rested his forehead against yours. This small taste of getting what he wanted didn't come close to fulfilling his desires. He needed you, constantly.

"I'll join you, Boy Wonder," you spoke barely above a whisper. "Just admit that you've been wanting to do that since the day we met because I've wanted you to do that since then."

"I admit it."

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - HC dump 

Been a while!

Siren wings aren't physical -mostly-, they have no heft or real weight to them and aren't "real" objects that exist within the same space as their owners. The wings are more manifestations of power, the visualisation of the Siren's concentrated energy. They don't fly with them, they aren't actually doing anything generally, any movement a Siren performs while their wings are visible is due to expending their power - hovering, levitating etc, it's not the wings displacing air.

To the touch they'd feel like... the warm static on front of an old TV screen, a tingling buzz of resistance you can pass through but feel like you shouldn't. They feel very off, other, it would be hard to experience one brush through your body and not carry some kind of creeping dread for a few hours after that part of it was still inside your chest cavity somewhere.

The forms they take on aren't related to their Siren Powers at all, the great sources don't care or even know when their powers are being used by a host, they aren't making decisions over things as removed from their sphere of concern as fucking wings, Siren wings are extensions of self. They represent how that Siren see's who they really are, in one way or another.

Amara hardens hers into solid fists, powerful muscle shaped into a protective cage or battering onslaught. They flex and posture in a display of raw physical power behind her back.

Lilith's burn everything she touches, friends, enemies, they destroy and warp reality around them. They don't belong anywhere, and they do more harm than good.

Troy's twitchy, skeletal right wing that's stunted and bent in on itself isn't related to his body damage at all... it's how he sees his form. The vile eyes rolling in their sockets and glaring hatred at everything around him that bulge from the pinions of his left aren't being created by The Leech, it's his extension of self, how he understands and translates its power, how he experiences it. He doesn’t know this though, and it's one of the reasons he's disgusted by his wings.

Tyreen is wretchedly proud of her own, the horrific tentacles of energy that rip through her back, but she doesn't understand those aren't the same as other Sirens. Those aren't wings at all, it's The Leech physically manifesting, not a symbol of her own power and control.

If she ever did leech Troy in LL hers would be the stunted, barely visible purple static ones from canon, because Tyreen has barely any sense of self left. There is so little of who she actually is, that her psyche forms... nothing. Sad, pathetic silhouettes that pale in comparison to the memory of her brother's breathtaking wingspan.

The twins don't like leaving Pandora in general, Troy seeing it as a nuisance, and Tyreen not dealing well with traveling on what she considers "cramped" transport vessels. There is also a major element of danger, cosmic space witches don't hold as much weight when the skirmish is outside a planet's atmosphere, and a hull breach doesn't care if you've got magic powers.

Her claustrophobia and issues with feeling caged are one of the reasons Ty leaves so much of the cult's off world business and faction schmoozing to Troy, he's far more comfortable warping in Sanctum with a small escort fleet than she would be knowing she can't leave her ship for 24 hours.

They won't make trips longer than a short jump to a border planet in anything smaller than their flagship, the danger of being swarmed by an ambush is a tad too real, and the COV's main transport is a -massive- cruiser class warship kept in orbit around Pandora. It doesn't have a name, it doesn't need one. Its city dwarfing silhouette of jutting spires and eye burning floodlights that beam from the building sized sockets of skulls scrapped together from the wreckage of enemy ships do more than enough to announce who's vessel this is.

It can transport an army comfortably, and while devoid of Psychos, is filled with rotating shifts of Bandit and engineering crew. It's iconic visuals are due to tireless work of acolytes and pious worshippers who cover the surface while it's resting in orbit, painting neon COV iconography in teams that can take days to finish a single building sized piece, welding spines, blades, screaming rusted skulls and fluorescent light tubes across the massive breadth of its hull.

The thing is a fucking monster in the dark of space, and if it's ripping through a planet's atmosphere alongside thousands of escort gunships decorated in its honor, the surface inhabitants know exactly who has come to claim their fealty.

The lower crewpeople call it "Vae Victus" with some mix of adoration and fear, Troy doesn't like that. Doesn't think things like his warship should have a name, it's beautiful as it is - free and nightmarish, it doesn't need to be described as anything other than the ship.

Tyreen doesn't feel physical attraction to people anymore, and hasn't really realised this. Shes not asexual, the feeling just isn't there, another symptom of The Leech consuming her piece by piece. She gets fiercely, painfully envious of Troy's "time" with willing followers, of the way he doesn't even really react to eager touches along his skin as he lounges sprawled across his throne while they sit in boredom and listen to whatever bullshit the queues forming all the way out of the Cathedral have come to confess, but it's how used to it he is that irks her. How much he takes for granted something she can't have. Tyreen doesn't like not being able to have things. There's a reminder there that she doesn't have the real control she seeks so desperately.

She has extreme issues with feeling trapped in every way, physical, in her environment, in her decision making etc, it's one of the reasons she can't stand being told she's wrong, or that she has to do something, and it all stems from The Leech rather than her.

Troy heals much faster than anyone would expect from someone with so many complex physical issues. He doesn't spend any time thinking about this and genuinely doesn't notice it's a factor, but the man has very few scars. A severe injury that would leave a horrific gash on someone else just seals for him, always has. He pulled a bayonet out of his abdomen just before he crushed that heretic's head in his maw's reveal, and didn't even react. Within a couple of weeks that was just another slight silvery line across the warmth of his ochre skin, and it wouldn't take much longer till it vanished entirely.

It's likely one of the little reasons he's so uncomfortable about the paper thin coverage of the major scarring on his empty right that never healed, it's such a horrible clash against his otherwise unmarred skin to look at, and Troy finds himself often letting his eyes rest absentmindedly on other people's scars, subconsciously comparing against his own, trying to understand if he's as abnormal visually as he believes.

He has a few, scratch marks across his knees from falling a lot as a kid, the indent cuts along the sides of his spine for his rig attachments, but they aren't that noticeable. His throat scars later, they don't heal great. They show for, well, forever, and it takes him a couple of decades to realise that's how it had always worked, that he chose what to keep and what to let heal all along.

He still.. falls a lot as an adult. He stumbles, he has severe moments of weakness that can make him trip to the side and rock down to his knees before he manages to get a hand under himself, and it’s never his right even though he usually falls to that side. He always tries to steady himself with his left, even after years.

For all her bullshittery about being well traveled and street-smart and blah blah blah, Seifa can be shockingly innocent at times with things she's not much experience of. Ven taking her to a track race? Wow. Where do they sit? How do you know when it starts. What happens if that shit goes on fire? Oh VEN that shit IS ON FIRE!! Is it meant to be? Oh whoah. OHHHH.

She's grabby, she's a super tactile person who tries to not touch too much and respect people's boundaries but if she's excited or scared or can see a close friend is hurting, she tends to give in. She'd be hanging off his arm, bouncing in her seat and screaming as the racers roared by, and she'll go back home and talk to JK about it like she's some kind of expert who's been attending them years.

When they do -eventually- stop doing a terrible job of pretending things haven't shifted for them to their friends, her playful nastiness towards Troy only increases. The sparkle in her eye does too though, and you'd have to not know either of them to think it wasn't intensely affectionate. Yeah she rips into him right in front of a chuckling Eli or JK, but he knows the things she whispers tenderly against his throat as she's falling asleep. He knows what it's like to wake up with her fingers loosely entwined in his, knowing she'd taken his hand in the night. He knows how gentle and soft she actually is, so he'll let her make the little digs. It's a good deal, and he's spent enough time around the little shit to know how to spot those.

(Genuinely awful job of hiding things. Ven pointing accusingly at the Troy sized mound and messy black hair desperately trying to hide itself under her duvet she's accidentally let him catch a glimpse of as she INSISTS everything's fine and she just needs five minutes to get her makeup on hey why doesn't he turn on the TV she'll just be a sec yeah she just has to close the bedroom door no don't worry about it pal yeah bye back in a minute etc)

Troy wears his prosthetic so much in public and has had to practice gestures with it so many times, that very rarely he tries to perform a learned gesture while not wearing it and shit goes to hell.

A huffy God King mid argument trying to cross his arms and just... going nowhere with the left as it swings towards the empty bracer, then pretending he did it on purpose while progressively getting redder and closer to a tantrum as the friend he's talking to desperately tries not to laugh.

It's almost all gestures it happens with, his regular movements and functionality are from a lifetime of not having the prosthetic so he's not going to run into any trouble there. He doesn't reach for things with an empty bracer because he automatically always uses his left, but the things he had to learn since Pandora and practice daily so he could look like he was a natural with it?

Those pop into his movements sometimes when he's only in the bracer and are usually a combination of frustrating and very funny.

Things like his physical threat, that's not something that was part of his life before the God King, how to hold himself and twist the massive arm forward while letting the shoulder blades spread for the viewers are things he had to practice and learn. If he's angry and not wearing it he'll sometimes shift into trying to perform the same actions and just looking confused for a second as his side shakes before he blushes and storms away.

If he's sitting lost in a story Ven is telling and starts absent mindedly playing with what's in his hand, he'll sometimes toss it to catch with the right, something he purposefully does in the background of streams to display finesse and strength subtly... cept in Sanctum that means just yeeting the fucking beer can sideways across the room and everyone stopping conversation for a second while he blanches.

Smarmy, stoned Troy getting into a insults chicken match with JK or Sei, grinning ear to ear and flashing a practiced cocky grin before leaning to rest arrogantly against a door frame and just falling into the wall.

It only happens when he's repeating something he's practiced for a persona, so it's a lot less hurtful than it could be for his esteem, but it's still embarrassing and he usually launches straight into being a huffy little asshole directly afterwards ( even if the genuine laughter feels nice in a way)

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.9 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st 5:13 AM

Warren County, Illinois

While that call did not succeed in waking up Kyndra and Zoey, the aforementioned Diego was woken up, however, by his co-worker Quinn, as he lay napping on a tattered sofa in the SuperFuel Deluxe's break room.

“Diego!”

Diego grunted.

“Diego, get up,” Quinn slapped him with a blue rag.

Diego sat up and rubbed his eye.

“Customers.” Quinn said.

Diego blinked awake. The TV was on. A man with fake looking blonde hair stood in front of a map coated with splotches of reds, oranges, and yellows.

“ Lightning strikes have been reported just about everywhere as this severe cell moves through Warren and Carpenter counties. Listen up if you are in the areas of Russelville, Haddonfield, Langdon, Tuckerville...you are under a Severe Thunderstorm Warning and Tornado Watch ‪until 7:45 am‬. Check out this picture someone posted on social media, that's softball sized hail folks...this reported by Zeke, a custodian working late ‪night tonight‬ at Smith's Grove High School, so be careful out there folks.”

Thunder struck and the lights in the shop momentarily dimmed. Customers, Diego thought, in this storm?

Diego stood up and stretched and then grabbed his Mountain Dew he had swiped from the coolers a few hours ago. Stepping into the shop, he sure enough saw some guy was talking to Quinn, standing next to an old-ass station wagon. The kind that had the wood panels on the side. The bottom was eaten away with rust. Diego was surprised the thing was even running at all, and one of the first things he noticed were the California plates. The lifeless remains of a tire lay snaked around a severely dented rim on the front passenger side. Must have hit a curb without even braking, he thought.

Quinn pulled a clipboard off the dark blue tool bench next to him and said, “We actually just had one of these die on us last week and it's back there in the yard. We can replace the tire and the rim and fix up those tie rods and struts in a jiff. You got really got lucky, because otherwise you'd be waiting at least two days for parts.”

The man's eyes grew wide, “Are you serious?! That's a miracle if I ever heard one.”

“I'll say,” Diego chimed in, “What year is this?”

“1989 Ford Country Squire” Jack Tate said proudly.

“Wow,” Diego laughed. “Quinn's right, we literally just got one of these in, the drive train fell apart in our hands, literally fell apart. But it was much more beat up than this.”

“You don't say!?” Jack put his hands on his hips.

“I couldn't help but recognize the California plates,” Diego motioned to the back of the car, dropping to one knee to examine the wheel well.

“Yep,” Jack said, rubbing his chin, “We're from a small town in Northern California, between San Jose and Sacramento. It's called Summer Glen.”

“Bet you don't get much snow there,” Diego said from under the car.

“Nope..but I bet you guys do.”

Diego appeared from under the lopsided tire with a smile, “Buckets,” he replied, “And it wreaks havoc on an undercarriage.”

“I bet it does” Jack replied.

Diego stood up and wiped his hands on his coveralls. “Well, not so much the snow,” he said, “it's the salt they salt the roads with. Eats the bottom of the car all up.”

“So what do you do?” Jack asked.

“Heated car wash,” Diego said, reaching out his hand to Quinn for the clipboard.

“I saw signs for those on the way in, all over the place up here,” Jack said, “But I saw signs but then it looked like empty parking lots.”

Quinn smiled and handed Diego the clipboard, “With steam coming up?”

“I didn't see any steam,” Jack replied.

“They're probably turned off right now.” Diego remarked, looking over the paper on the clipboard.

Quinn whistled, “Whew don't I know it. It's been hotter than a hippo with a hernia.”

“Hmmm,” Jack grunted in agreement, “Climate Change.”

Quinn hissed, “Hogwash! I don't believe that bullshit for a second.”

Jack quickly changed the subject, “Anyways—err--how do car washes help your car in the winter?”

Quinn nodded, “You drive over the jets and they hose off your undercarriage with heated water”

“That's fascinating,” Jack smiled.

“Well,” Diego sighed, “We have the parts already so we'll charge you a $90 restocking fee, that's mostly 'cuz Quinn here has to run out in the rain and slip the rim and tie-rods off the old car.”

“Aww man, that's cold,” Quinn exclaimed.

“Good news is,” Diego continued, “You really didn't tear her up all that much besides that, you knocked some things loose but we can tighten her up. The labor will cost you $400 easy,, being on the weekend now, and then $140 for the tire, $126 for the rim, taxes and disposal and you're still under a grand.”

“That's wonderful,” Jack said, placing his hands back on his hips.

“What brings you out here?” Quinn asked, “Especially in this storm.”

“My wife got a job out here, she ‪starts Monday‬ so we wanted to get out here as quick as we could....drove straight through.” Jack remarked.

“Wow,” Quinn breathed.

“I need those parts Quinn,” Diego remarked, opening the top of the tool bench and pulling out a socket wrench.

“Oh right!” Quinn smiled. He walked over to the far wall and grabbed a yellow rain coat which hung on a peg next to a Calendar, still on the month of October. A model in a bikini presided over the tenth month. “What job did your wife get out here?” He called from across the room.

“She's going to be the new Chief of Medicine at the hospital,” Jack replied, his eyes on Diego as Diego crouched back down toward the car.

“Oh she's gonna replace old man Mixter!” Quinn remarked.

Jack shrugged.

“Hurry Quinn, this guy said he's got places to be,” Diego said from under the car.

“Oh right,” Quinn said and stepped through the side door that led into a small foyer and eventually either out to the front parking lot or back into the lot.

“So your wife's a doctor eh,” Diego's voice came from under the car, “so what do you do?”

“Well I'm a doctor too,” Jack replied.

Diego emerged from the car holding a twisted piece of metal, “Really? What kind?”

“Well I'm a psychiatrist,” Jack said.

Diego slid back under the car, “A shrink huh?” He said, “You opening up an office here or something?”

“Well no,” Jack laughed, “I'm actually going to take some time off and write a book.”

Diego re-emerged with more twisted metal, “Cool,” he said, “What about?”

“Hypnosis,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

Diego cocked his head to one side, “Really? You do that shit?”

“Swear by it,” Jack replied.

There was an awkward moment of silence and then they both laughed.

🎃

Meanwhile, Ophelia Tate had purchased a small and incredibly over-priced pack of baby wipes and was giving herself the best attempt at a bath she could muster inside the surprisingly clean restroom of the SuperFuel Deluxe. After she finished, she sat on top of a toilet and took an opportunity to catch up on social media.

While she sat in the stall reading about “11 Celebrities That You Would Never Assume Were Gay”, her son Damon stepped into the Food Mart, and wiped his perfectly white sneakers on the welcome mat. An angry looking Indian man looked up as the door bells jingled and then went back to fiddling with some electronic device behind the counter. Damon's first thought was, Why does he keep all that bullet proof glass open?

He casually turned to his left, starting down an aisle chock full of every imaginable brand of potato chip or chocolate or fruity candy---browsing but not really browsing, more just wasting time. The aisle came to a dead-end at a wall of coolers full of soda and water and fruit juices. Damon stopped and caught himself staring at a row of YooHoos when he heard what sounded like a snickering to his left.

There was a small hallway to the left of the coolers, veering off next to an ATM machine. He stepped in front of the ATM machine and peered down the hallway, at once spotting the cause of the commotion. Three young boys were standing in the corner next to a door marked: UTILITY, NO TRESSPASSING. One was a freckled redheaded kid with shiny braces dressed as batman, another was a blonde haired blue eyed boy dressed like Darth Vader, and the last was a much younger looking kid with brown hair and brown eyes dressed like some kind of zombie. They were huddled together, their masks all hanging limply around their necks, crowded around a magazine featuring a hot blonde titled RED RABBIT. The cover-girl’s name was apparently Misty Dawn, and according to the cover caption, she was “Back and Ready for More Action”.

The boys caught sight of Damon and looked up startled. The freckled redhead kid's smile disappeared and his eyes grew narrow, “Hey!” He called, “What are you looking at?”

Damon was unfazed. “Looks like a couple of pervs to me,” he said, stepping toward them.

This apparently took them aback because they said nothing in retort.

“Seriously,” Damon said, pointing at the cover, “How old are you guys?”

Blonde Vader who held the magazine in his hand pressed it to his chest as if it were the most valuable thing on the earth and looked up at Damon with his mouth open. Little zombie boy took a step back. But BatFreckle was not amused. “Why don't you go Fuck Off!”

Damon frowned, “That's not very nice language. Is everyone in this town pervs like you?”

“Where are you---” little zombie started in but BatFreckle cut him off.

“Don't you know that Warren County is the home of the Rabbit-in-Red? What hole did you crawl out of freak-show?”

“Rabbit-in-what?” Damon asked and with lightning speed, snatched the magazine from Blonde Vader.

“Hey!” The wannabe Sith Lord exclaimed.

“Rabbit-In-Red Productions is the world's third largest manufacturer of pornographic media dipshit, and the company is based here in Warren County.” BatFreckle spat.

“So it is a county full of pervs,” Damon said, opening the magazine and thumbing through the pages.

“My dad said a local bunch of church folks fought Mr. Martini in court over decency laws so much, the legal fees drove the church out of business.” Blonde Vader said.

“Shi-yeah,” BatFreckle said, “That's why old man Taylor's up in his house on the hill crying like a pussy all the time.”

“Mr. Who?” Damon asked, closing the magaize and handing it back to Blonde Vader.

BatFreckle snatched it instead and flipped to the table of contents, pointing to a ‪small black‬ and white picture of a middle-aged overweight man. “Lou Martini. He's the CEO of Rabbit-in-Red nimrod, he owns half the county and is like, the richest man in Illinois outside of Chicago.”

“Where are you from?” Little zombie found his place to ask.

“My parents and I are moving here from California, we just got in tonight, got a flat tire.” Damon replied.

“California! That's cool!” Blonde Vader exclaimed.

BatFreckle rolled his eyes, “Beat it California!” He said, “We were just checking out Spitz' mom in this month's issue.”

He and Blonde Vader started laughing.

“That's not my mom!” Little zombie, who's name was obviously Spitz, whined.

“Don't lie, you know it's her!” BatFreckle teased.

Blonde Vader turned the page, and the centerfold fell out, revealing the cover-girl Misty Dawn laying on a bed of white fur naked except for a silver belly chain and and black stilettos. A paper fell out as well and fluttered almost magestically to the floor. Damon bent down and picked it up. It was a flier that featured another picture of the model. The headline read:

SEE COVER GIRL

MISTY DAWN

TUE-SUN

OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER

AT THE

RABBIT-IN-RED LOUNGE

IN

HADDONFIELD

“Look Spitz” BatFreckle said in jest, “You can see your mom's show tonight if you want.”

“It's not my mom!” Spitz whined again.

“Why don't you leave him alone?” Damon said.

“Why don't you suck my balls?” BatFreckle snapped.

“Chill out Lonnie!” Blonde Vader slapped BatFreckle's shoulder and then looked at Damon “Lonnie can be a douche sometimes, I'm Richie Marshall, this is Lonnie Elamb, and he's Spitz. Welcome to Haddonfield.”

Lonnie groused and leaned back against the wall, opening up the porn.

“Cool, my name is Damon.”

“How old are you?” Richie asked.

“17, you?”

“I just turned 12, Lonnie is 16 but he's still in 8th grade...he has to go to special classes at the Middle School.” Richie and Spitz cackled.

“I have dyslexia fuck face!” Lonnie said, throwing the RED RABBIT at his friend.

“I'm 8,” Spitz said proudly.

“What are you doing out of the house at this time of night?” Damon asked, picking up the magazine from the floor and handing it back to Richie.

“Lonnie has his drivers license now, and I just snuck out of my house.” Richie said.

“What about you?” Damon asked, turning toward Spitz.

“His mom's a whore so she leaves him alone to go out fucking for quarters!” Lonnie called.

“Stop it Lonnie! She is not!” Spitz cried.

Damon ignored him and Spitz continued, “My mom works late nights at Jamie Lee's Diner, she doesn't get home till morning. My grandma watches me but she fell asleep and I...I snuck out too.”

“We just ate there coming in,” Damon said smiling.

“My mom is Taylor,” Spitz said.

“She was our waitress.” Damon replied.

“His mom's a slut!” Lonnie called.

Spitz started to whine but Damon put an arm around him, “Why do you hang out with this asshole? Is there anything else to do in this place than look at naked chicks?”

“There's an arcade in the driver's lounge, but I don't have any quarters.” Spitz said.

“Come on,” Damon said, “Show me where it is.”

Richie tossed Lonnie the magazine to followed Damon and Spitz. Lonnie caught it, rolling his eyes, he was perfectly happy right there looking at boobs.

🎃

Damon stepped into the shop area of the SuperFuel Deluxe and shook off the rain. There he saw his dad sitting on a folding chair listening, as another man held a lamp under their family station wagon from the Jurassic era. A third man was under the car working. The man holding the lamp was droning on and on about baseball. Damon didn't really care for baseball, or any sports for that matter.

“And then the Sox brought in their reliever, that guy Stroop, and he just completely fell apart. He hit two batters and walked another, and before you knew it the bases were loaded.” Quinn was saying.

Damon walked up to his dad. “Is that so---” Jack replied, but was startled when Damon tapped him on the shoulder.

“What is it son? You're not supposed to be back here.” Jack looked up at Damon.

“There's an arcade inside and I was wondering if you had any change on you?” Damon asked.

Jack leaned to one side and pulled his wallet out, withdrawing a 20 dollar bill. “Can they make change?” He asked.

“There's a change machine,” Damon said flatly, taking the money.

“You can play all of that, what the hell, it's been a long few days,” Jack said smiling.

Damon stuffed the twenty in his front pocket and turned, “Thanks,” he said.

“Tell your mom I'm in here,” Jack called after him.

“Haven't seen her,” Damon said as he walked out, without turning.

Quinn started up again, “So you know that big Dominican for the Cubs, Agu...Agu...something.”

“Aguilar,” Diego called from under the car.

“Yeah, Aguilar,” Quinn corrected himself. “Well he steps up to the plate and first pitch...bam!”

NEXT>>

[shardminds]

#1 for the fic writer's asks, if you'd be so kind, please?

anything for you, my love ♥ i had a whole answer written out for this and then my computer decided to fart and delete it all. so i’m going to try and write it from scratch again. HERE GOES NOTHING! 

(#1) to preface this, i’ve spent the night in a lot of weird places. backseats of cars in the middle of nowhere, deflating lilo’s on stony beaches, mossy clearings in old forests where the only things separating you from the ground are the clothes on your back, capsule hotels, pig sheds, multistory car parks etc

but the strangest? the weirdest? the ???-est? 

a park bench. 

now, you might be thinking “come ON, ems, that’s NOTHING! tell us about the leaking dingy moored up on lake coniston!” but that night wasn’t strange or weird or ??? at all. i was tired, the boat was there, i didn’t want to walk the mile back to camp and, my final reasoning, lake noise: birds, fish, water and the unknown that lurks beneath it—the best sleep accompaniment. also, if the dingy drifted off into the unknown, i’d be living my lady of shalott fantasy. lord tennyson can bite me and you can pry that poem from my cold dead hands. 

no, the park bench takes the cake because neither of us can remember where the fuck it is.

i wish i could go into all kinds of details about what happened leading up to the park bench and what happened when we left, but my best friend (mim) and i had been celebrating and drinking arguably too much dumb inebriation juice and i can not tell you anything other than what my phone told me: we walked 7 miles that night. THAT NIGHT! now, me being the kind of person i am—wearing heels whenever i get an excuse, despite there already being 6′1″ of me—i know that i would not have been able to walk the hilly terrain of my hometown in the footwear choice i made that night. no way in hell. a bitch can Walk but she also blisters real easy so that would NOT happen. 

however, the evidence declares otherwise.

i’ve lived in my hometown (almost) all my life. i know each twist and turn, each pothole to avoid, each cobbled street and traffic light, but i’d never seen this park before and i’ve never seen it since.

i don’t really remember it that well—the details of the park, that is. i remember sharing a cigarette and giving my hoodie to mim but, other than that, the only thing i can recall is the gargantuan oak trees, maybe half a dozen of them in total, their trunks each as thick as two men. i was drunk so you can blame that for the unreliability of my narration. nothing seemed off or eerie about it, probably because my insides consisted of cider, gin and half a cheesy garlic bread pizza. the bench was not comfortable and i ached for days after.

at some point, before sunrise, we must have started the walk back. i remember nothing of waking up on that bench. i remember walking past the only 24h garage in town and picking up two cans of iced coffee at 5 in the morning and then i remember climbing into the back of mim’s car and napping the rest of the alcohol off for another few hours before we drove back. that’s it. 

it’s frustrating more than anything. i’ve lived here for 18 of my 23 years of life. to say i’m pretty familiar with the place is an understatement, but can i find this park? absolutely the fuck not!