#that means it was the total opposite of your shithole

[rezeptkapziv]

i LOVE being denied basic human rights lets bring that back

People love to go “ in the Soviet Union they picked your job for you 😭” yeah cunt that’s what we’re doin now too except they make you bark like a dog for three weeks straight first getting denied everywhere you wanna work until you end up somewhere you dont like anyway. Let’s just cut out that middle man why don’t we

[faeriekit]

I’m writing this only to excise this from my body.

TIM (& DICK) ACCIDENTALLY START THE BATFAM AU!!!

So. Recently dropped out from college, kicked out of Wayne Manor, and fast tracked through police training Officer Grayson is having a real fucking shit time at the precinct. No one respects him or his deductions or his opinions. Everything sucks ass. His most familiar and longest-living support structure was ripped out from underneath him, he’s broken up and no-contact with anyone he’s ever dated, his Blüdhaven apartment is awful and full of black mold and there’s never enough food to sustain him, his creation of his Nightwing persona is slow-going and the public is reluctant to catch on, there’s a kid hiding under his bed, his partner thinks he’s a total nepo baby even though he has no money and no contacts, and—

There’s a what.

Dick double checks under his bed. Yerp. Sure enough, just hanging out, is a black-haired kid with a raggedy coat and a backpack, just peering back out at him with his big ‘ol eyes.

“What the fuck,” says Dick, before remembering not to swear in front of kids. “...freak.”

The kid scrunches his nose.

Dick doesn’t kick the kid out because, fuck, it’s cold out in November and at least his shitty apartment has heating, but he does tell the kid that this ain’t cool and that if he wasn’t literally in the cops to take most of them down, he wouldn’t let this fly at all. In the morning, the kid skedaddles, and Dick assumes that is that.

Except he’s here the next day.

“What the fuck,” Dick repeats, and commits to the swearing this time.

In the mean time, Tim already knows what swearing is and Is On The Fucking Lamb.

His parents were murdered in their bed on their one week in Gotham for the season, and escaping the same fate had been a lot of sneaking out of the house and hitching a ride on the Gotham city bus and laying low on the streets for the week, keeping only his most important photos, his camera, and a spare set of clothes on him at all times. There had been warnings of upset in the company that Tim had overheard, but he hadn’t expected this. With no safety in Gotham, no money, no food, and no one he knew personally, Tim was Very content with his plan of hiding out under Robin’s (ex-Robin’s?) bed until the murderers are appropriately found. The company can’t be bought, traded, or sold until Tim’s found dead, after all.

So. With a motivation to avoid getting murdered, Tim very rudely ignores Dick Grayson’s attempts to keep him out of his apartment with strategic uses of puppy eyes, lockpicks, and general knowledge of exploits in electronic locks.

“Little monster,” Dick warns, even as he has a plate for Tim in the hand opposite his own, “You can’t hide under my bed forever.”

Tim ducks back further under the frame. Yes he can!!!

It devolves into day-to-day shenanigans from there. Tim never speaks since he knows his Bristol accent is recognizable. Dick suddenly has to juggle his day job, Nightwing, and stopping this little kid with a camera from crawling around this crusty and crime-riddled city all night, just so the squirt can dart into the precinct in the morning with entirely inadmissible evidence of wrongdoing?? JUST managing the baby is part-time job. Fuck. Dick is buying double groceries now. He might actually learn how to cook more than ramen-with-egg.

It’s good that Dick has mastered some kind of weird almost-parent bullshit with the little monster, because overnight one kid under his bed turns into two.

“What the fuck,” says Dick. He tries to reach under his bed, and the new kid tries to get him with a knife. “What?? The fuck??”

“Back off! The shrimp was here first!!” the new kid growls, his street accent thickly prominent.

“This is literally my apartment?!”

“So what? What’re you going to do, call the cops to this shithole?”

“…I’m a cop?!”

Anyway. This new kid is deeply protective of the little monster, and his name is Jay something-something, mind your own fucking business, and Dick’s a little bit grateful because now at least the ten-year-old-monster has backup when he starts darting around town and also is wondering why it’s suddenly his fucking problem that he has to feed two kids he is not related to, and also apparently bailing them out at work when two not-even-pubescent kids get caught breaking and entering at seemingly random places in Bludhaven.

“Fuck off,” says Jay, to a cop, while the more silent kid is busy trying to get a look at evidence on cop desks. Dick watches from his own desk in silent horror.

“Is this yours?” asks Dick’s haggard partner.

“…Sure,” says Dick, to Jay’s clear surprise and suspicion. The monster beams with all of his adorable and also entirely fake innocence, the little shit. Dick bails them out, and then they all have lima beans for dinner as punishment for getting caught. I mean doing illegal things. (I mean getting caught.)

And then Bruce asks if Dick is coming home for Hanukkah.

Dick does not want to come back for Hanukkah.

…But the leftovers would feed the kids, actually. And it’s good food. And free. Maybe he can go for one night and not kill Bruce.

Spoiler: Dick cannot go for one night and not kill Bruce. Dick stomps to the other end of the house, texts Alfred an apology, and makes it all the way back to his car in order to drive home. Dick is on the parkway and on his way back to Bludhaven by the time that the tiny assassin in his car tries to Get Him.

They tussle. Dick only wins because he is An Adult and the assassin is, like, four foot nine.

Anyway. Cass is driven home in an improvised belt-and-dress-shirt restraint and cannot live under the bed, as she has to receive lice treatment. She stays because there is food and also other kids her age.

“Where are you getting all these kids?” Dick’s work partner asks, which is a fair question.

“…Cousins,” Dick lies.

“They live at your place.”

“Until their moms get sober again, yeah, probably,” Dick says, banking on the fact that he looks ethnic enough that no one will question the blatant reference to substance abuse or the basically-still-a-kid raising kids.

No one questions him.

He’s kind of disappointed in them about that.

Jay drops a reference to Crime Alley about this point. “You’re from Gotham?” Dick asks, perplexed. “Then why are you here?? This place sucks ass.”

“I’m in hiding. Duh.”

“From who??” Dick is fully prepared to go Nightwing on someone’s ass.

“Batman,” Jay says, severely. “I stole his tires. And then I hit him with a tire iron.”

Dick gapes. Monster gasps. Cass doesn’t get it, and takes a good heaping of spaghetti off the monster’s plate while he freaks out.

Much cute domestic shenanigans, and then it all goes to shit when the party is crashed by an assassin, who has been paid reasonable amounts of money to kill Timothy Jackson Drake.

Fighting ensues. Jay, who had known everything But the fact that Dick was Nightwing, freaks the fuck out.

"YOU?!"

"Yeah," Dick says, sheepishly, putting the escrima stick back in his pocket. "Uh. Whoops?"

"BUT YOU'RE A COP?!"

"I'm harboring you all, aren't I?" Dick points out, and rightfully so. "Cops do illegal stuff all the time. I literally got you out of trouble for your little B&E adventure in the inner city warehouses last week. If you weren’t fake related to a cop, you’d be in juvie right now for repeat offenses."

Jay, who was pretending that didn't happen and whose face is a bright scarlet, changes the topic. "Why didn't you tell us you were a fucking vigilante, then?? You should have said something?"

Dick points to the under-the-bed monster who has been squatting in his apartment since last year for that exact reason and the mostly mute mini assassin, both of whom had already known this information and said nothing. “I assumed they told you tbh.”

Jay stomps away.

Unfortunately, Tim's plan of hiding in Dick's apartment is no longer safe, and now everyone has to haul ass to move somewhere more secure.

This means needing more money.

This means needing somewhere to hide until a new place can be secured.

…Shit. This means playing nice with Bruce and asking for favors.

Dick does not want to play nice and ask for favors.

…Dick looks at the kid who’s depending on him to protect him from assassination, another orphan with nowhere else to go, and a girl who underwent abusive training and who’s never known a safe space apart from them.

Dick is going to have to get his shit together.

And he will hate it the whole fucking time.

Everyone piles into his early 2000s toyota something and off they drive, one bag each, to the house with the guy who never quite adopted Dick into his family and probably never wants to see him again, based on how literally every time Dick tries to spend time with him, Bruce can’t help but push on every one of his fucking buttons.

From there it’s a slow-churning reconciliation arc, baby! Bruce learns how to actually communicate with his kid, finds out that having the kids around improves his quality of life by 200%, and Alfred gets an early plural grandkid arc. Dick struggles not to take shit personally while they solve the deaths of the Drakes, Tim breaks his leg falling off of a place he Should Not have been, and Jason continues to learn that protecting others isn’t the same as genuine vulnerability and intimacy, and that he has value, and Cass learns that although she hates killing, she loves fighting, and using that for good isn’t bad.

Reasons I will never write this fic:

Too long!! I would never get it done in a reasonable time frame, and I can’t commit right now.

I actually…writing mysteries bores me. Sometimes actual mysteries bore me. I couldn’t execute this the way I would want it to be read. I’d give up. (Or, you know, I technically already have?)

In-betweens between the action scenes are too vague. They’re not solid in my head in the way I would want them to be if I was writing this.

This entire fic was premised under the basis of Dick looking under his bed and finding a twelve year old Tim Drake. I wanted some good old fashioned Tim & Dick bonding that wasn’t Red Hood based, since it’s still one of the most prominent tropes in their ‘&’ relationship tag.

Want to use any of this…? Go nuts. Or don’t. This has been exorcised from my body. I am now free.

[ares-the-strange]

Teeth and Silver

Family Reunion

Travis Hackett x oc

Warnings: None

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

The light switch clicked, the sudden change in brightness bringing pain to my green eyes. The station was empty, just as silent as the tense drive here. "Shouldn't there be...other people here?" I questioned, glancing around the unusually dead station, shouldn't there be at least be an operator? The officer just ignored my curiosity, leading me into his office.

"Do you realise how serious an offense speeding is?" The cop questioned, gesturing towards a chair as he took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. "Do you realise how suspicious you seem?" I half mocked, the cop somewhat tensing at my accusation. "And what does that mean?" He inquired, leaning forwards in his seat, his elbows resting on the oak desk. "You were fine with me before I mentioned my sister, then you went all psycho killing creep. Like aren't you supposed to do a breath test on me or something before handcuffing me?" "I don't have to do anythin'" "Uhh yes you do, you're supposed to obey they law? But then again you are a cop" The man only scoffed, amused by my accusations and attitude. "You have no idea 'bout anythin'," "Well I know that my sister is in danger, and may possibly be dead. While on her way to your brother's summer camp, Officer Hackett." His eyebrows furrowed at the mention of his last name, questions forming in his mind before he remembered. His badge, his damn stupid badge. "Alright" was all muttered before rising from his seat and grabbing me by the shoulder. I decided not to rile him up any further as he led me towards the holding cells. 

The lock clicked as Officer Hackett turned the key, the sound of the door opening bouncing off of the concrete walls. "Hey! Let us out Officer Dick Whippet!" My head snapped towards the voice "Laura!" I yelled back, causing the constable to tense "Carrion! Holy fuck you have to get us out of here! This total fucking weirdo locked us up!" I turned towards said total fucking weirdo, the desire to protect my sister fueling many stupid plans in my head. "Now Mx I wouldn't do anythin' stu-" I cut him off, smacking my forehead against his face. Officer Hackett stumbled back, hands covering his nose, red creeping out under his palms. "Ah fuck" I groaned, realising the movies had lied to me. I pushed the throbbing pain to the back of my mind, swiping the keys from the bleeding man, running over to the cells. "Laura! Laura are you okay?!" Concern laced my words as I fumbled over the ring of keys, pushing each one into the key hole as swiftly as possible. "Yeah, yeah, just a little shaken up" she responded, shifting her feet in anticipation of her freedom . "Carrion? Oh my god thank fuck you're okay here" Max exclaimed, face pressed against the bars, wanting nothing more than to get out of this shithole.

A loud click made me freeze, my frantic attempt at unlocking the cell coming to a halt. "Put down the keys" Officer Hackett demanded his voice dangerously cold, the steel stare and bloody face putting genuine fear in me. Metal crashed to the ground, my jaw clenched at the seriousness of the situation. He kept the gun trained on my head as he opened another cell, the metal whining at the movement. "Get in the cell" there was a hazardous edge to his demand, he was no longer messing around, if he ever was. I looked towards Laura "Go, I'll be okay" she reassured, clear concern for my well being in her tone. "Promise?" Sighing I rested my head against her cell bars, Laura mirroring my actions on the opposite side of the bitter metal "I promise" I nodded, stepping away from her I found it hard to break eye contact with her. The thought that it may be the last time I ever see her alive was in the forefront of my mind.

Regaining eye contact with Officer Hackett as I lifted my hands, slowly backing into my cell. He clicked the door closed behind me, lowering his gun as well as his eyes. If I wasn't on high alert I may of thought there was guilt in his expression. Without saying another word he left the room, the door snapping softly behind him.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

WPP - Kenny (We’re The Millers)

This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I was struggling to finish it, but, a bright light ascended from the heavens, in the form of an angel, and that angel’s name is @gladerscake

Big thanks to them for helping me out and finishing this imagine. Go follow them and give all the love and support you can muster!

~~~~~~~~~~

Being in the witness protection program was...interesting.

It definitely was not what you were expecting, but then again, you didn’t know helping out a person you cared about would get you involved in a murder, yet here you are.

You had to leave everything behind, not that you had that much of a life to begin with, but it was comfortable. Now, everything was different. New home in a new state, even a new last name. Thankfully, you got to keep your first name, you were grateful for that at least.

You were surprised to find the most annoying thing was the neighbourhood that the program placed you in. It’s like it was made for Mormons or something, your neighbours were too nice, at least the house to the right of yours. You didn’t really know who lived in the house to the left, working from home had the benefit of never going outside and the only reason you knew who lived to your right was cause those neighbours were the type of people to introduce themselves.

Yuck.

But still, you couldn’t help but be a little curious.

You did know, however, that they had only recently moved in since the one morning truck woke up before your alarm rang that morning. You were grouchy the rest of the day, thus you’ve been slightly petty towards your “new” neighbours since then. You definitely needed to work on your attitude...one day.

After being inside your house for more than a week, you decided you wanted some vitamin D, which you rarely ever did so you must’ve been seriously deprived.

You walked out of the door leading to the backyard with a book in hand, frowning when you saw how overgrown the grass was from your laziness. You told yourself you’d do it later, and by later you meant you would mow your yard when you started to hate yourself enough to the point where you felt too guilty leaving it alone.

You huffed as you sat in one of your lawn chairs that you bought when you moved in, lying to yourself that you were going to spend more time outside when you knew you wouldn’t. A first for everything, you supposed.

A few chapters in, you heard a door open and shut in your neighbour’s backyard, but you thought nothing of it, almost too entranced in your book.

You smiled to yourself when you started to hear 1990s R&B playing softly, not your cup of tea but you enjoyed it occasionally. Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls had just started playing when you heard the neighbour’s back door slammed. “Dude, turn that shit off! You’ve been playing that song constantly and I’m actually getting sick of it. God.” You heard an angsty female voice.

Oh no...you lived next a family.

“Hey!”

You flinched, noticing a blonde girl was talking you. “Uh, hey?” You slowly closed your book, reluctantly walking over to the fence separating the backyards when the girl motioned you over.

“Haven’t seen you around before, just move in?” She asked, smirking slightly, looking you up and down.

You mocked her smirk, not liking the almost condescending look she was giving you. “No, been here for awhile. That’s how I know you’ve only just moved in a few weeks ago.”

The girl’s smirk only grew. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Casey, and that loser is Kenny.” She pointed to the table behind her, seeing a blonde boy sitting somewhat dejectedly in one of the chairs fiddling with a small CD player. “Hey, TLC, get over here!” The boy looked to Casey with a panicked expression, visibly looking like he wasn’t sure if the girl meant it or not. She rolled her eyes, “Come on, dude!”

The boy nodded, frantically walking away to join Casey at the fence. “Hey.” He stuttered, blushing when he noticed your eyes on him.

Casey rolled her eyes yet again. “Yeah, this is Kenny.”

Kenny waved quite adorably, giving you a tight lipped smile. “Did you just move in?”

“No, I-”

“We’ve already had this talk, she’s been here longer than we have.” Casey interrupted, making your blood boil a little bit, her attitude almost worse than yours.

Kenny frowned slightly, but covered it up with a smile. “Oh.”

“Yep. We’ve already become besties.” You said sarcastically, grinning widely, making Kenny genuinely smile a little.

“Kids!” A middle aged man with a stupid haircut, to you anyway, walked over with hesitant look on his face. “Who’s this?”

“Y/N, your neighbour that’s lived here longer than you have. Saved you the trouble of telling him yourself, Casey.” You sneered.

“Oh. Well, I’m David and we’re the Millers! My wife, Sarah, is at the market right now, but I’m sure she’d be glad to meet you sometime.” He smiled widely, making you uncomfortable.

“Uh, dad, chill out. You’re gonna scare away the only girl I find suitable to be friends with in this shit neighbourhood.” Casey whispered harshly.

You didn’t really want to be friends with Casey, you never really got along with girls. Clearly, reading outside was a bad choice...

“Ha ha, if you sass me one more time today, you will be grounded young lady.” David forced another smile.

“Uh, Dad...”

“Shut up, Kenny.”

You quickly realized where the Kenny kid was in the family food chain. It was a shame, the dude was pretty easy on the eyes and seemed nice from what you’ve seen. “Look, I’m just gonna go. Nice meeting you fine folks...” You waved awkwardly, turning around and practically speed walking inside your house.

Well, that was fun...never going outside ever again.

The overall encounter put you in a sour mood, so when the doorbell rang you prayed to god that it wasn’t the yearly check in with law enforcement cause you’d probably get yourself in trouble with that attitude of yours.

You were mildly shocked to see that awkward Kenny guy outside your door, his eyes trained on his feet before you opened the door. “Kenny Miller, right?”

“Uh...yeah, Miller. Uh, I just want to apologize for my, uh, family’s behavior. They don’t have the best of manners, but they’re good people, I swear!” He ranted at such a quick pace that it almost flew right over your head. “So, yeah, sorry.”

You chuckled at his nervousness. “You don’t have to be sorry, especially on the behalf of your family. They don’t seem like the type to appreciate it anyway.”

His eyes widened, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! They, uh, appreciate me.” You kept your mouth shut, giving him a sympathetic look with a soft smile. He sighed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“To me, it is. I’ve been in that situation before, so it’s not that hard to notice.”

“Oh...well, they can be nice sometimes I guess.”

“I hope so. Well, it was nice to meet you, Kenny.” You stuck your hand out, smiling when he hesitated but shook your outstretched hand gently.

A week later, you and Kenny actually became friends despite the two of you being almost complete opposites. He was able to poke through your cynical exterior, which was extremely rare for someone to do. He made you laugh, smile, and actually enjoy life when you were with him. You didn’t like it at first, but his adorkable personality won you over.

Kenny was more than overjoyed, he finally had a friend, not one out of pity anyway. The first time you two had hung out, he came “home” with a huge grin on his face. Of course, Casey had to tease him about it all the time.

“I still don’t understand how she can be friends with that loser and not me!” Casey ranted. “It doesn’t make sense!”

“Casey, stop calling Kenny a loser, please.” Sarah sighed, tapping away on her keyboard.

As soon as Sarah said that, Kenny walked through the door with another grin on his face. “Hey, Ma!”

“You don’t have to call me that here, hon.” Sarah voiced, shutting her laptop and walking out of the kitchen, but she smiled to herself.

“Pop your cherry yet?” Casey smirked evilly.

Kenny immediately blushed. “I told you, we’re just friends...”

She rolled her eyes. “You obviously want to be more than just friends with her. You should just ask her out and get it over with.”

“But...Melissa...”

Casey huffed loudly. “Dude, I already told you, she’s probably moved on by now. She was a total babe, she can and probably has done way better than you.”

“Hey...” Kenny frowned, to which Casey just shrugged, her eyes training back to her phone. He sighed as he sat down across from his “sister.” “I do like her...but I don’t know how to bring it up. I’m awful at talking to girls about...that kind of stuff.”

Casey snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.” But she dropped her amused smirk when she saw Kenny glaring. “Sorry, sorry.” She sassed. “I mean, it did work out with the ginger to be fair, but we have to stay in this shithole until further notice. But I really do think you should shoot your shot with what’s her name.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just-”

“That girl is bad news.” David suddenly voiced, walking into the kitchen.

“What do you mean by that?” Casey asked.

“Uh, hello? Pay attention to your surroundings instead of that stupid phone of yours to see that we are in witness protection. We can’t trust any of these creepy neighbours.”

“Uh, I think you’re a tad bit paranoid, father dearest.”

“Y/N’s really cool though!” Kenny expressed.

David rolled his eyes. “But we don’t really know her, we don’t know if she’s a snitch or something.”

Casey laughed. “Wow, you really are paranoid, dude.”

“Ha ha, very funny, just go to your room and listen to your Metallicas and AC/DCs.”

Casey’s face contorted into a disgusted scowl. “I don’t listen to that garbage.”

“Shut up.” David simply replied, making Casey stand up and storm out of the room and up the stairs. “Look, Ken, I get you like this girl, but you need to be careful. Don’t say things you shouldn’t and all that. You have a tendency to not know when to shut your mouth. So, don’t do that, kay?”

Kenny nodded curtly, avoiding David’s eyes as he felt his face heat up in slight anger. He knew he had some...issues with keeping his mouth shut about things that should be kept a secret, but he grew up, right? He’s not as naïve as he was before they went to Mexico, but his “family” still treated him like he was five. Plus, he knew you weren’t the type to be a snitch.

While Kenny was dealing with feeling underappreciated, you were having your own set of issues to handle. Today was the day for a check up with law enforcement to make sure you were on your best behavior. You always were, but it still made you anxious to no end. And you prayed that Kenny wouldn’t rush in to your house like he got into the habit of doing when you were interrogated.

Of course, that didn’t happen. 

“For fuck’s sake...” You muttered under your breath when you saw Kenny’s shocked and scared face when he saw you sitting with a couple local police officers.

On your end, it just looked like he was scared of police officers. But Kenny’s mind immediately went haywire, thinking that you called them over to investigate them even though the police were already informed of “the Millers” situation. 

“Kenny, now’s not a good time.” You sighed.

“No, no, it’s okay.” The police officer in front of you said. “We’re done here anyway.” He walked out of your house with his partner, leaving you and Kenny in an awkward silence.

“What was that all about?” Kenny asked, not being able to control the bitter tone in his voice. “Did you think we’re that bad or something?”

“Kenny, I-”

“We’ve been doing really well here!” Kenny interrupted. “No problems with anybody, been on our best behavior.”

“Kenny.”

“I don’t wanna go to jail. I can’t go to jail. We’ve only been here for a couple months.”

“Kenny, stop!” You finally yelled, losing your temper. “They were here to check up on me, for fuck’s sake.”

Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but still had a slight expression of panic. “Here for you? B-But-”

“I’m in witness protection, you dweeb, same as you.”

“Oh...Wait, how did you know I’m in witness protection?”

“Your family,” You finger quoted, “looks nothing like you. All of you don’t look anything alike. How paranoid and secretive that David is, it wasn’t too hard to put things together. You rambling off like an absolute moron a minute ago just reaffirmed my theory.”

Kenny frowned. “Dang, I thought I had worked on that.”

You smiled slightly. “It’s alright, Ken. I’m no snitch, and I’m not very judgmental about someone’s past. What did you even do though? You’re definitely not the type to break the law.” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, we kinda smuggled some drugs across the Mexican border.” He stuttered.

“Holy shit, dude! That’s sick! What was it? Was it coke?” You grinned, eager to learn.

Kenny blinked at your excitement, but obliged to all your questions, sitting down next to you. “No, it was marijuana.”

Your face slightly dropped in excitement. “Oh. I really think weed should be legal. It’s stupid, it’s not even a hard drug.”

“Well, we’re lucky we even made it out alive. But what did you go through to get yourself here?”

Now, you definitely didn’t judge past crimes of others, if they’ve atoned for it and changed that is, but you had no idea if Kenny would judge you. You actually found yourself not wanting him to look at you in a different light, and you’ve never felt that way before. 

Kenny seemed perfectly sweet, almost too sweet to judge anyone, but on the other hand...the stuff that had landed you in the program was definitely heavier than some weed smuggling. 

Maybe it would be too much for him. Maybe it would be best to just make something up, something less horrible, something he wouldn’t be too shocked by.  As tempting as that route felt, the idea of lying to him weirdly didn’t sit well with you, though. 

Kenny was quick to notice the lengthy pause that followed his question, as well as the way your shoulders tensed and your eyes averted to the parquet floor. Oh no. Had he pried into something too personal? Was he an idiot for asking?

“Oh, um...you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!” Kenny hurried to assure you, slight panic beginning to etch his bluish-green eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching involuntarily. “I was just curious, is all! I’m sorry if it’s too persona-“ 

“It’s okay!” To his surprise, you pulled on a tight-lipped smile, giving him a look as nonchalant as you could manage at the moment. “Really, you don’t have to apologize for asking. Plus, you already told me about your thing, so...” You trailed off, softly, wondering how to proceed. 

As much as you resented the thought of Kenny seeing you differently, you decided even that unpleasant outcome would still be better than lying to him. You’d rather not. You liked Kenny. Despite not having spent a tremendous amount of time together, you could tell he was a genuinely good person, and you definitely enjoyed his company. Not to mention, it would be a blatant lie if you said you weren’t at all attracted to him. 

Casey may have spent most of their interactions calling him a “loser” in some form or another, but you couldn’t be farther away from agreeing with her. A part of you was positively annoyed with the way she treated him. Then again, taste is subjective. It wasn’t Casey’s fault if she didn’t have a good sense of it. 

With a deep intake of air, you nervously flipped a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, still avoiding direct eye-contact with Kenny. “I, uh...It’s a rough one, really. And kind of a long story. I wouldn’t wanna dump something like that on you, if you’d rather not hear it” 

He tentatively pursed his plump lips, but nonetheless nodded for you to keep going. “I’m sure I can handle it! Whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge you, Y/N. I promise!” 

Promise, huh? Guess you were going to have to see about that. 

Trying to ignore the rapidly increasing pace of your heart and slight tremble in your fingers, you began your story. 

You didn’t want to go into too much detail, for the fear of oversharing, but you did tell him as much as you felt you could. About how you used to have a friend...a pretty close friend, who you cared about a great deal, who had always been kind and generous, alas, a bit of a troublemaker.

About how she had fallen in with the wrong crowd, something you admittedly failed to see coming. How that crowd turned out to be a notoriously vicious gang that had it out for some other poor girl, who had apparently slept with one of the gang leaders’ boyfriend without realizing it. 

How that gang, your friend included, lured her onto a rooftop to “fuck with her” and “teach her a lesson.” Only that night, they went too far and ended up pushing her off. The girl died instantly, and due to the heaping pile of evidence, it wasn’t a particularly long investigation. Almost everyone involved were arrested shortly after, and you, having been brought in as one of the witnesses, had a choice whether you wanted to testify against your friend or not. 

At first you weren’t sure if you wanted to do that and make matters worse for her. However, after some much-needed reflection and consideration, you decided it would be the right thing to do. Someone had died, and your friend played a part in it. You couldn’t turn a blind eye to something that big simply because you two were close. 

Your friend was put away, along with several other gang members. Still, quite a few of them were still out there, and they definitely seemed like the type to hold serious grudges. You were no longer safe at your former home, and now...well, there you where. 

Kenny listened intently all the while, not once daring to interrupt, not even to ask a question. By the way your breathing had hitched and your lips had stuttered at certain parts, he could tell how hard that must’ve been for you to go through in the first place, and how unsettling it was for you to revisit those moments in order to share your story with him. 

You didn’t notice, but as you were nearing the end, Kenny had inched to sit closer to you, his large hand carefully landing on your shoulder with a soft but warm-hearted squeeze. He had briefly hesitated in making that move, but the need to offer you comfort and reassurance overpowered his nervousness. His only hope was that you wouldn’t flinch at his touch, and so he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him when you did no such thing. 

“So...that’s about it. Sorry, I know it’s a fucking bummer story, compared to your weed smuggling adventure.” You attempted a chuckle, only it came out as more of a sad scoff. 

Your heart was still pounding and you were still reluctant to look up at him. Although, as you finally noticed Kenny’s warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder, you felt a soothing brush of comfort spread through your limbs, and you couldn’t deny how nice it felt. 

“Whoa...that’s...I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Kenny frowned, unsure of what the right thing to say could be. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ve had some time to process it and move on. Well...not completely, but I’d say I’m doing much better now.” 

Kenny went silent for a minute, clearly still digesting the information, and the worries you had about him looking at you differently came back in full force. You opened your mouth to ask him about it, but he beat you by a millisecond, speaking first. “Why...why were you so nervous about telling me?” 

So he had noticed. Figures. The art of the poker face wasn’t something you’d ever truly mastered. It sometimes annoyed you how easy your anxious state was to spot, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. 

“I don’t know, I...I guess I didn’t want you to see me as a snitch or judge me-“

“Judge you?” Kenny interrupted, sounding confused about the mere insinuation. “For what, not sticking up for your friend when she had got herself involved in a murder?” 

“I mean, she was still my friend, so...” 

“So what? That doesn’t change the fact that she got in the middle of something so horrible, that could’ve been avoided, if she had paid more attention to who she hung around.” 

You couldn’t say you had expected that. It was almost weird hearing Kenny talk that way, but you were definitely relieved to hear where he so firmly stood in regards to the whole “judging you” idea. 

You bit your bottom lip in agitation as a thought you had been wrestling with for a while creeped its way into your mind again. “Sometimes I feel like maybe I could’ve done something...could’ve checked up on her more or somehow stopped her from hanging out with them...maybe I could’ve kept her from having anything to do with it.” Your voice grew quieter, sounding barely above a whisper as guilt flashed through your eyes, your muscles tensing, uneasily, at the thought. Kenny was immediately closer, his arm wrapping around you, as if trying to shelter you from your own thoughts. 

“Come on, don’t do that to yourself, Y/N. You can’t control the actions of others, not even your friends. Least of all your friends, probably.” 

You allowed a small smile to touch the corner of your lips as you instinctively leaned into Kenny, his closeness calming you, his soft reassurances shushing the self-deprecating thoughts he could sense looming over you. 

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just try not to think about it often, it really sucks diving into that stuff.” 

“Of course it sucks. I just hope you know that none of it was even a little bit your fault. From what I can tell after spending some time with you...you’re a really good person, Y/N.” 

You looked up at him, noting the way your faces were only a few inches apart by that point. The close proximity brought a rosy tinge to your cheeks. “You think so?” 

“I do! Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, you’re funny when you want to be, you’re great to be around, and heck, you’re one of the very few people I know who doesn’t make me feel like I’m constantly doing something wrong.” 

Hearing that made you simultaneously happy and sad. With the way Kenny’s “family” treated him almost around the clock, it was no wonder he felt that way. You wished he didn’t have to. You believed someone as wonderful as him deserved so much better. If only he had at least one person close to him who would tell him how much better he was than most guys out there, how anyone should be lucky to call him a friend... or maybe more than just a friend. 

In that moment, you found yourself thinking what it would be like if you were that person. You imagined it would feel the same way it always did when you were around Kenny, only better. In all honesty, you couldn’t find a single reason not to try. What harm was there in trying? Oh, that’s right...something could go badly wrong, and then whatever friendship you had with him would be in shambles.

That’s what the pessimistic side of you thought about it. But the other side, the more hopeful and affectionate side, had other ideas. 

Even though you and Kenny were brought into the witness protection program by very different circumstances, you were still in it together. You didn’t have to hide your true identities or your past, at least not from each other. That had to count for something, right? 

While you were taking a second to collect your thoughts, Kenny was facing some inner turmoil of his own. With the newfound closeness of the two of you, his cheeks were positively crimson, his pulse quickening, heart thumping against his rib cage. Any doubts he’d had about whether or not he wanted to ask you out had vanished - he absolutely wanted to do that. But how? When? Would now be a good time? He wasn’t sure. Yet, he was very aware of the fact that if he were to lean in just a little bit closer, he could just kiss you right then and there... 

Kenny briefly remembered David’s “count to three” method, but for some reason it didn’t feel right to use. Not with you, not like that. All he wanted was to just go with the feeling, and that feeling was beckoning him to your lips. 

Oh, screw it. If you were to push him away, so be it. He would probably die a little inside and never attempt to do anything like that ever again, but at least he would know your immediate answer. 

“Kenny...?” 

Your soft questioning voice reached his ears as his gaze trailed over your delicate face, taking in every feature, and with a soft but resolute breath, he leaned in. 

Your eyes went wide when Kenny’s lips landed on yours. You froze for a second, not knowing what to do. Luckily, your instantly skipping heart gave you the hint you needed to flutter your eyes closed and melt into it. 

He kissed you so gently, so carefully, but not like he was afraid of scaring you away. More like he wanted you feel completely safe and give you every chance to stop it the second you wanted to. 

You didn’t. 

Instead, you wrapped an arm around his neck, your fingertips brushing the ends of his short sandy hair, your lips moving seamlessly and warmly against his own.

Kenny couldn’t believe you were actually kissing him back, but damn, he was thrilled that you were. He felt the affection in him surge as the softness of your lips put his mind in a haze. His hand timidly slid down to your waist, bringing you closer to him, and you willingly went, deepening the kiss as you did. 

After a few blissful moments you finally broke away from his lips, your noses nearly brushing each other as you looked up at him through glimmering eyes. “I was almost convinced I would have to do that myself...” 

Kenny breathed a soft chuckle, not taking his gaze off of yours. “To be honest, so was I...” 

You grinned at his burning cheeks, releasing a light chuckle of your own before reconnecting your lips for another kiss, swallowing the muted grunt that rumbled from Kenny’s throat. 

Things were going to get better now. For both of you, you were sure of it. Kenny was finally going to have someone who would show him what it’s like to be truly wanted and appreciated, and you were going to have someone who wouldn’t dream of hurting you and who you knew would always do his best to understand you, give you everything he could give. 

Maybe this whole witness protection program thing wouldn’t be such a tedious affair, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks again for helping me @gladerscake​ , you’re the sweetest ❤

[asset35-maya]

RED DRESS

Part 2/2 of Nice Things

//

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Five minutes, sweetheart. Please.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed with a thump. The day had finally come when the human was more punctual than the android. He sniggered at the thought but refrained from saying it out loud. Nines looked far more serious than he ought to for a Friday night.

“Babe, it’s just the guys. And Tina.” 

Nines ignored him in favor of twirling a mascara wand through his lashes. 

“We’re literally going to Abick’s. That’s like the oldest, grungiest cop bar you can-”

“It’s not the place or the company, sweetheart.”

Gavin watched Nines finish off with eyeliner. Somehow even androids’ mouths hung open in concentration while doing that. 

He stood up from the little pouffe and shook his long hair out with a flourish. Taking that as his cue, Gavin got up and pressed himself up against his lover’s back. He curled his arms around Nines’ trim waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. 

Their eyes met in the mirror of the wooden dresser that Gavin had built for Nines.

“Whatchu so gorgeous for?”

Nines tried, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Shut up and zip me up.”

It wasn’t like he couldn’t reach behind himself and do it on his own. The RK900 model was supremely dexterous, flexible to the point of double-jointedness. 

It was more of an implicit request for the human’s approval of the outfit. Nines didn’t need it, but he asked anyway… just like later that night, Gavin would ask him if it was okay to splurge on a bacon cheeseburger or order an extra shot in his whiskey coke… 

They were codependent like that.

Gavin left one hand on the android’s stomach and placed the other on the small of his back, just at the opening of the dress. His thumb grazed the zipper, but he didn’t demonstrate any further intent to pull it up. 

“You said we were going to be late.”

Gavin swept the dark curtain of hair aside and pressed his lips to the exposed skin at the nape of Nines’ neck. When he spoke it was a whisper.

“Why’s my babydoll looking like something out of a movie for my dumb little promotion party?” 

His hand slipped into the open flap of the dress. It was a simple knee-length a-line. Fairly modest, but something about it set Gavin’s heart racing. Perhaps the colour. A vibrant, lusty, sexy, show-stopping red in sharp contrast to the milky white synthskin.

Nines couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the touch. Sighing, he tipped his head back and let Gavin nuzzle his neck. 

“Hmm?”

“Now we’re really going to be late, sweetheart. Zip… hhhhh… zip… me up…”

“Come on, doll. I don’t want someone accidentally spilling beer or mustard on this pretty little thing you got on. It’s just gonna be a chill night out with our friends. They demanded a treat for my promotion, and Hank said he’d come too, so I picked a place he’d be more comfortable at, and I realise that’s not exactly your scene, but I’m glad you’re coming with me, but I really gotta say this dress-”

Nines turned around in Gavin’s grasp and silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s not the place or the company,” he repeated, putting his arms around the human’s neck. 

“It’s your promotion party. It’s about your achievements, your hard work, YOU. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the most important person in my life. My partner in more ways than one. My everything.

Your rise in stature means as much if not more to me than my own accomplishments. I’m not the RK900 with the impeccable solve rate. I’m Sergeant Reed’s better half. 

If I had it my way we’d be doing something much grander, but this is how you want to celebrate and that’s fine, but please don’t stop me from dressing for the occasion.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Steel blue and storm green locked in stalemate. 

Then Gavin pulled Nines into a tight embrace. He released him abruptly and spun him around, zipping up the dress in a flash. Avoiding eye contact lest the tears pricking his eyes betray him, Gavin caught the android’s hand in his and marched out of the apartment.

//

Connor greeted them at the entrance of the bar and waved them over to where the motley crew sat, already well into their first round of drinks.

Hank raised his beer glass in greeting, wearing an orange striped shirt he apparently deemed worthy of festivities. Tina enveloped Gavin in a giant hug. For a good thirty seconds he could see nothing but flannel. Then Miller, Person and countless other officers took turns congratulating him and bringing up past cases or incidents they couldn’t believe hadn’t held Gavin’s career back. 

Nines extricated himself with an artful wave of long fingers and settled onto a bar stool beside his older brother Sixty and his husband Allen. Serious, snarky and clad in their usual black leather, these two were more Nines’ speed.

Ignoring Sixty’s irritated grumble, Nines took a sip of his thirium drink to see if he liked the taste and ordered one for himself. He was prepared to spend the rest of the night sitting still and not touching the many sticky, greasy surfaces in the bar. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but he was happy to let Gavin and his friends do their thing.

Gavin, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood. He humoured his friends (many of whom were now his direct reports) and played along with whatever they insisted on doing, but Nines felt his partner’s eyes on him the entire evening.

“You punishing him?”

“Hmm?”

Sixty was squinting at him shrewdly.

“For coming to this shithole to celebrate. That’s why you wore this? Poor bastard can’t keep his eyes off you.” 

Nines swatted his brother on the chest. 

“I don’t play games like you.”

“Who says I play games?”

Allen shook his head but didn’t look up from his phone.

“I have a fashion sense, Six, not an agenda. I’m not punishing him for anything.”

“Well, you’re certainly distracting him. Reminds me of the time Allen said something stupid while we were getting ready for a shift so I put on lingerie underneath my gear. He nearly fell off a roof that day.”

Allen buried his face in his hands while Nines laughed out loud. 

“Shiiit. Your guy looks fucking lovesick. In front of all his staff too. They’re gonna think he’s a total sap. A new authority figure like him has got to show some grit.”

“Six, your husband follows you around like a lost puppy but that hasn’t interfered with his ability to lead your unit. Gavin will be fine.”

Allen didn’t know whether to consider that an insult or a compliment and settled for sipping his drink in silence.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“To?”

“Make the torture worth his while.”

At that exact moment, Gavin gave Nines a look from across the bar that could have only one interpretation. Sixty noticed and barked a laugh. 

Nines self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed down his dress. If he were human he’d have blushed bright red. 

Back to idly scrolling through his phone, Allen spoke without looking up.

“Let him do whatever he wants.”

Nines’ eyes widened. Sixty nodded wisely.

“His imagination is probably running all over the place right now. All you have to do is let him act on it and you’ll make him the happiest man on earth. It’s his promotion. You should be the prize.”

Allen put down his phone and scooted closer to Sixty, wrapping his arms around the android. They both looked at Nines with identical expressions that were anything but innocent. 

“Yeah, Nines. Dress like a present, expect to be unwrapped.”

Raucous cheers erupted as Gavin lost yet another game of beer pong. The new sergeant barely noticed and took the shot glass thrust into hand by a very jubilant Connor. Nines raised his glass in a silent toast and the two downed their drinks together.

The rest of the evening was an exercise in painful self-restraint. Gavin entertained various playful requests and posed for photos and thanked each and every one of his colleagues for their strong support. Hank clapped him on the shoulder proudly, and Tina even teared up at one point, emotionally overcome with happiness for her oldest and closest friend. Nines watched it all quietly from his perch beside Sixty and Allen.

//

As soon as they slid into an autonomous taxi, Gavin’s lips were on his, smothering him in heated, demanding kisses. Intoxicated and utterly uninhibited, the human put his hands in Nines’ hair… all over his body… and up the pretty red dress. No words were exchanged the entire ride home. 

The fact that android skin could not be marked or bruised was the only thing that let them walk through their busy lobby and ride the elevator up with dignity intact.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Gavin was all over Nines. He touched and groped and claimed and conquered. 

The dress zipper was pulled down as quickly as it had been pulled up before they left for the bar. Nines stepped out of the puddle of red fabric as delicately as he could and pulled Gavin’s shirt off too. It was only the high quality gyroscope of the RK900 model that kept them from crashing to the floor before making it to the bed. 

Nines allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed and parted his legs for Gavin to easily settle between them. From there, he expected things to go at lightning speed… for Gavin to plough into him and come with a loud roar after a couple minutes, finally sated after a night of frustration.

The exact opposite occurred. 

Even after all the tequila shots Connor and Tina made him do, Gavin was somehow still lucid enough to put his lover’s feelings over immediate physical needs. 

“Babe, I… am soooo… sorry…”

One hand wound up in his hair and the other gripped his hip. 

“Like.. you dressed the phck up… like you looked soooooo damn beautiful, baby… I’m gonna cry.”

For a moment, it honestly looked like that was a possibility until Nines reached up and stroked the human’s stubbled cheek.

“I know Abick’s is kinda crusty but you came anyway… looking like a million bucks but I didn’t spend a second with you… T and Con and the crew… they kinda took over…”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. It was our whole team’s night as much as yours. I’m glad they all had their fun.”

“I didn't. Have any fun.”

“Really? Not even when Chris did that Fowler impersonation?”

“Couldn’t stop… thinking of you… you’re so damn good to me… and I…”

“I was fine. You invited Six and Allen to keep me company and it was fiiiineee.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now come on, sarge. Show me who’s boss.”

Nines rolled his hips against Gavin’s and that was all the conversation there was to be had for the night. They were both still getting used to having nice things… but they were doing well.

//

Inspired by @marndraws

[pumpkin-stars]

Just Maxwell

Max Lord/GN!Reader, fluff (meet cute).

This week’s entry for @autumnleaves1991-blog‘s Writer Wednesday sees Max post-movie, trying to cope with less money but more relaxation, and more laundry than he knows what to do with.

Word Count: 885

Masterlist | Join my Taglist

Things changed for Maxwell after the summer of 1984. Thankfully nobody seemed to remember the time he went crazy and almost destroyed the world by granting wishes. But he still lost his business, you can’t forget debt, unfortunately. He’s not the oil guy or the wish guy he’s just… Maxwell.

And with that anonymity comes relaxation and more reward than he ever thought. Things are looking up!

He’s still figuring stuff out, but Alastair lives with him full time, in a little apartment where the shower runs cold after a few minutes, and the laundry facilities are shared in the basement, and his bedroom window doesn’t open properly (there’s a knack to it!), but it’s a nice little place. For now. He can’t afford much more. But having Alastair makes up for any less-than-desirable circumstances.

And today is laundry day!

He’s been putting it off for a while - his suits are all dry clean only so he’s doing his best to thrift some more ‘normal’ clothes, and Alastair had plenty of choice from his mother’s credit card… but now he really needs some clean underpants. He doesn’t want to go to tomorrow’s job interview commando.

But this machine makes no sense.

Is the bulky setting just for some large items or for a large load? Do children’s socks count as delicate? Where does the soap go? The little compartment has four sections and no labels? Why, when he selects ‘yes! rinse and spin’, do the clothes not wash… when the rinse and spin is part of the wash?

“Need some help?”

He looks up from his place, kneeling on the floor, staring hopelessly at the machine, a trail of socks between it and his basket - where he’d tried to dump everything in one go and closed the thing up before he realised he’d missed some (it’s a good job Alastair doesn’t mind wearing odd socks).

“Is it that obvious?” He asks you, taking in your outfit, the pyjamas and slippers, fluffy dressing gown. He looks totally different, dress pants, crisp shirt with the sleeves rolled up and buttons half undone… the opposite of the put together Mr Lord of only a few months ago.

“I could hear you muttering from the third floor,” You smile wryly.

“I just…” he sighs, “I haven’t done laundry for years.”

“Oh?”

“I am at the end of a string of bad luck,” he nods, “At least, I hope it’s the end. I uh, lost some money, ended up here.”

You smile, “It’s not so bad, ending up here.”

“I didn’t mean to offend-“

“No worries,” you assure, “It’s a shithole. We all know it.” You hold out your hand to him, introducing yourself, “Apartment 31.”

“41.” He smiles.

“You’ve got a kid,” You grin, “the socks give it away, but I’ve heard him rushing about in the mornings.”

“I’m sorry-“

“It’s fine,” you assure him again, laughing: “Unconventional alarm clock.”

“He’s the same to me.” Maxwell smiles.

There’s an awkward silence for a moment, then you ask, “Do you? Need help?”

“Oh!” He looks back to the machine, just remembering what he’s doing, “I do. I don’t understand what half these buttons are for.”

“What’re you washing? Just normal stuff?”

“Yes. And I know enough not to put white things in with colours, but other than that-“

You smile, set your basket down beside him, then lean over and show him what to do. “See? Easy.”

He nods, “makes me feel more of an idiot.”

“Oh not at all!” You laugh, “I ruined a whole load of stuff the first time I used that machine. I tend to use the other one instead. Just in case.”

He watches as you load it up.

“You want me to stick those three socks in with mine?” You ask, “I can drop them round once they’re done?”

“You don’t mind?” He’s flustered, has to remind himself that normal people don’t always do things purely for their own benefit or a reward. Some people are just nice because they can be.

“Of course not.” You smile again, “If they ruin my clothes I’ll just style it out.”

“Then thank you.” He hands you the odd socks, “And thank you for your help with the machine, I… most things I have are dry clean-“

“You have money for dry cleaning?” You can’t hide your surprise as he watches you, memorising the steps you showed him before and marvelling at the ease with which you execute them.

“I- no, not anymore.” He winces.

“I have some stuff that might fit you? My ex never came round to get it. Just, if you wanted to relax in something that isn’t part of a suit.”

“I couldn’t-“

“You absolutely can. It’s just taking up space in my closet, please, it’s yours.”

He blushes, “thank you. I… I should do something to properly thank you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me get you dinner? Nowhere fancy, just…” He pauses. “I don’t know where’s good around here...” They haven’t eaten out since moving in, saving the money to buy the few ingredients he knows what to do with (he and Alastair are both a little sick of mac n cheese).

“The diner down the street?” You suggest.

“Yes!” He nods, “The diner down the street. Tonight?”

“It’s a date.”

~~~

Taglist: @agentshortstacc @amneris21 @apascalrascal @darnitdraco @idreamofboobear​ @irrelevantbutembarrassing​ @phrog-seeds @readsalot73​ @santiagogarcia​ @yours-truly-r​ @joanofarkansass​ @kaybrownies​  

[yourheartonfire]

You're a supervillain in high school.

Unbenownst to you, your nemesis actually attends the same school as you, and when some new super-powered idiot comes to town and won’t stop causing trouble during exam week of all times, the two of you decide to team up to take them down.

Prompt courtesy of @united-under-skyfall and @writing-prompt-s

"And stay out, you dumb jerk!" the hero yelled after the retreating figure in the sky. "Ow," they added and sat down hard on the gritty roof of City Hall.

The villain slid out of the shadows, brushing ash and magic off their shoulders. Dawn was breaking and from their perch they could see all of their stupid, podunk little hometown; the park, the 80s era office complexes, the half dead mall. Other than the blast radius over by the high school, it was all still standing.

They'd done it. They'd run off a full-blown adult mask, thanks to the villain's smarts - and the hero's ability to take a punch as well as dish it out.

The hero. They were huddled in themselves, cloak pulled tightly around their shoulders,  head resting on knees, back exposed and unguarded. 

The villain felt suddenly dizzy and hot. Months of chasing each other over rooftops, battling in the streets, and now the hero had left themselves exhausted and open. They could attack now. They should attack now. The hero was totally, entirely at their mercy. The villain glided forward... but for some reason stopped a few feet back.

"You... okay?" they said.

"Fine in a minute," the hero said in that relentlessly chipper voice. "It's mostly the other guy's blood."

"Huh," the villain said, readjusting their strategy. "What are your parents going to say?"

The hero chuckled with an oddly bitter undertone. "That's the least of my worries when they - wait." The hero bolted up to a knee, already in guard stance. 

The villain threw back their head and laughed. It was a pretty good evil laugh. They'd practiced it a lot. "What, you thought it wasn't obvious you're nothing but a child?"

The hero narrowed their eyes behind their mask. "Uh huh. And you're not out here between AP homework and SAT classes?"

"Uh - I - what? No!" the villain stuttered out, in the complete opposite of cool. "You're the - the kid, so stupid and optimistic!"

The hero grinned, their teeth still bloody. "Like your whole gothy-angry-dangerous thing doesn't scream angsty teenager."

"How dare you," the villain said, but couldn't muster up too much heat. The adrenaline rush of discovery was already fading, and exhaustion was coming on fast. And for some reason the villain couldn't quite put their finger on right at this moment, they didn't really mind the hero knowing they were about the same age. Especially if the hero thought they seemed dangerous. 

The villain kicked over an old crate and sat. The hero cautiously settled back into their meditation pose. They stared at each other in the early dawn light and the villain suddenly felt very much at a loss for words.

"So-" the villain said finally, right as the hero said "We should-"

"Sorry, I -"

"No, I was -"

"No, you go."

The villain cleared their throat. "So, what's the deal with your parents? Are they oblivious, or are you a legacy or something? Gotta guard this shithole before you go big time?"

"This is not a shithole," the hero said huffily. "At least it wouldn't be if it weren't for psycho explodey guys. Or -" they glared at the villain "- idiots who waste their powers on petty larceny and vandalism."

"Hey. Nothing petty about my larceny, baby." The villain pantomimed finger guns at the hero, and then immediately wished to fall off the roof and die.

But no such luck. The hero leaned back, bloodstained smile even wider. "Wow," they drawled. "I stand corrected." But their tone, though teasing, wasn't mean. The villain was starting to think the hero really didn't have a mean bone in their body. 

In the light of day the villain was desperately aware of their shitty homemade get-up, the heat in their face that was surely obvious behind a Halloween store mask. The hero, the hero had real gear, real training. They sat straight, chin up, spotlighted in sunlight like they were ready for their close up. The villain felt dizzy again, unsteady on their crate.

The silence stretched. The hero cleared their throat. "You, uh, you know Starlight Burgers makes breakfast burritos?"

"No they don't," the villain said.

The hero gave a little shrug. "It's off menu. The cooks sell em out the window before the place officially opens. If you fly us down, I can hook you up - ever since I saved the place from getting magically robbed."

"Hey," the villain said. "I would never go after Starlight Burgers. I have some limits."

"Great." The hero stood, held out their hand with absolute trust. "Let's go."

The villain raised an eyebrow, crossed their arms to keep their heart from suddenly pounding out of their chest. "Is this a trick?"

"Yes," the hero said straight faced. "A trick to get you to give me a ride to Starlight Burger. I need carbs and protein to finish recovery and I don't have a car."

The villain gingerly took the hero's hand. They didn't flinch. "Well," the villain said. "I guess if I carried you through this battle, I can carry you to breakfast."

The hero snorted but didn't let go. The villain pulled and the hero... the hero came willingly into their arms, into the shadows with them.

The burritos were delicious. The rest of their finals were a disaster.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Breaking Point (Platonic)

Agents of Shield x reader maybe the reader was captured with Bobbi by ward at the end of season 2 and he torture her more because he knows if she’s hurt the whole team hurts cause she’s the youngest and they all want to protect her? She’s the one that gets shot then and not Bobbi? Love your writing!

Thank you so much! I hope this lives up to what you wanted!

Bobbi Morse wasn’t exactly in a great place, more physically than mentally. She was thrown into her cell, grunting as she hit the floor. She clawed at it with her hands as she tried to get up on her legs, to get to all fours.

Ward, however, just watched the whole time with a kind of shine in his eye as if he was enjoying her suffering. Bobbi was damn sure that part of him actually did. She was almost 100% sure of that.

What she wasn’t sure of, however, was what his endgame in total was. All he had done was asked for an apology from her for what she did to Kara (sure, she felt sorry. But she was honest when she said that she’d do it all over again,) but she didn’t give one. That led to her torture. To her pain to try and make her break.

“Look at you, always the fighter, huh? Ain’t that you, Mockingbird?” he asked in a mocking tone. She finally managed to turn and face him; trying to muster a glare with what remaining energy she had left.

“You know who’s not, though?” her face dropped, and he could definitely tell, “That’s right, y/n. The one, and the only. Y/f/n goddamn y/l/n. Let’s see if she’d give anything away. See if she’ll squeal where you didn’t. See if she’ll break and bring me back to SHIELD, back to Coulson. Back to –”

“You’re never getting your hands-on Skye, again.” She vowed, fiercely protective of her friend that had started to become a sister to her during their time together.

The whole team had been protective of you; you were a sister (to Fitz, Simmons, Skye, her, Hunter and Mack) or a daughter to others (Coulson, May, even her to an extent). You were the youngest, so their primitive instinct to protect made sense. Hell, even on his short time on the team, Ward had acted in an older brotherly fashion to you.

Obviously, now he was just another enemy on your list.

Bobbi had always had a maternal instinct to her; be that when getting Simmons out, or comforting Skye when she got her powers. She just seemed to be (like May) a natural at it, even if they wouldn’t believe you if you told them about it.

May might’ve been the mother of the team, but Bobbi was the older sister of them. Skye, Jemma and her all acted like that to you. You hadn’t had anyone else in your life before; being on the streets, but Coulson (like Skye) saw something in you and kept you on the team as you could fight.

Maybe that was why you were in this situation, now.

Granted, she didn’t know where you were in the building, she just knew you were in it. You were taken with her as well when not-May (Kara) took you both by surprise.

Despite your past, you had been a friendly type of person. You were still a little hostile and closed off (a bit more so than Skye) but you had slowly softened to them and that got you to where you were with the others now.

Now, she had a friend in danger, and she couldn’t exactly let that slide. Especially, not with this fucking psychopath.

“Don’t you dare touch her.” She managed to growl her threat; but Ward merely found it amusing.

“So protective. I wonder if which will shatter first; you or her. Which one will give up the location first?” He asked, probing on her fear for your life.

“You think either of us will? We don’t just betray and abandon our own, Ward.” Bobbi said, firmly.

“Well, no point asking you. Better go find the answer out for myself.” With that, he stood and turned around to leave.

“Wait! Ward, wait! Take me! Take me instead, please! She’s just a kid, Ward! WARD!" She yelled the first parts, but the last two where barbaric screaming; frantically trying to get the man to stop and see what he was about to do. See who he was about to hurt.

However, there was no evil cackle, there was no evil monologue about his reasons. There was only a door slam.

A door that held behind it a very worried and distraught Bobbi Morse. Who was trying her hardest to calm herself to focus on one thing; to get herself out and to save you.

 You stirred, slowly opening your eyes to see yourself with your hands tied to a table. Well, this wasn’t good; either someone had a massive kink, or you were being held hostage; if you were being honest, you still weren’t quite sure which yet.

Then it hit you, Kara had captured you; so, you now had your answer.

“There she is.” A chilling, recognisable, voice said to you. You slowly looked up from your hands to see Grant Ward making his way towards you.

You tried to move away, but it did nothing. Still, he looked a little impressed by your attempt, though you then found that the look was one of humour at your attempt to get out.  

“C’mon Y/N, I wouldn’t have tied your hands down if I thought you were going to try and run, would I? Don’t ruin my effort.” You tried to muster a glare, but you only gave him more of a terrified look.

“There it is there’s the scared kid I met way back when. Remember that, y/nn? When we were all together, that neat little family? Yeah, me too. Good times,” He said as he pulled a stool back and sat down opposite you, “Now, here we are. Your miles away from anyone you know. Although, I should tell you, Bobbi…. Bobbi didn’t make it.”

He had even softened his voice, making you believe it more. You looked up at the ceiling as tears pooled your vision. You didn’t even second guess his words, you believed them as if they were law; Ward even through in a look of genuine pity and slight sorrow to try and sell it all the more to you.

He was selling you poison, and you were just drinking it all in one go. He smirked a little, breaking you would be easier than he had previously thought. Maybe all your training had been for nothing. Maybe you were just that scared child Coulson had seen something in.

As to what, Ward didn’t know. You were a scrappy kid that had survived by the skin of her teeth. That was all, to him anyway.

Still, he was always open up to a surprise.

 Bobbi flinched when she heard your scream, it was loud and raw. Seemed Ward had wasted no time in getting to it. She did not know what he was doing, she didn’t care what he was doing. The only thing she cared about was getting out and saving you from the bastard.

So far, that was mainly trying to make a lockpick after throwing herself into the door a few times only to no avail.

The walls barely had anything on them. So, a plan if all else failed was to just smash through the thing and try that way. However, if she did that, she would be dead and then soon after so would you.

She did not – couldn’t – have that outcome occur. You both needed to get back to your friends; you both needed to get back to your family.

“What are you doing?” Kara spat as she passed the cell, stopping to check in to make sure she wasn’t trying the very thing she was about to do. That being an escape.

“You’re just going to let him do that to her? She wasn’t even a part of SHIELD when you were taken.” Bobbi said, trying to appeal to some humane part of the woman. However, this time she got the cliché evil smirk instead.

“Oh, you thought I’d go get Ward and tell him to stop, didn’t you?” She pouted mockingly, “Oh, I’m sure your friend will break soon enough though, if that’s any consolation. But, you’re right, she didn’t have anything to do with me being taken. So, I’ll at least put in a good word to make it quick.” She seemed to mean her words.

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” Bobbi said in a panic as she tried to reach through the door to grab her and turn her back, but Kara grabbed her arm and pulled her to the door, slamming her into it and making the woman fall back with another groan.

This time, she was slower getting up, her ears rang as she did so.

Kara, however, waited until she had gotten up into a sitting position once again before she spoke, “Try that again, and the next thing you hear will be a gun.” She sneered before she walked off.

Bobbi, however, was fast with her action before. She had grabbed a key that Kara had put in a necklace and swung to the back of her neck, clever move to subvert how easy it was.

Good thing Bobbi had learned that tool of the trade too.

 Ward punched you again, this time you had to blink to centre yourself once again. His “methods” of breaking you had been variations of hitting you so far.

You, however, just tried to take yourself somewhere better; somewhere nicer, somewhere that wasn’t this shithole. You tried to think about your family that you missed dearly; but that only made you think of Bobbi, your dead friend who had been killed as you hadn’t been fast enough.

A part of yourself told you that maybe you did deserve this fate. Maybe this was were it was all leading all along anyway, you had enemies out there who wanted you; maybe being killed by Ward would not be the worse way for your tale to end.

“Stay awake, now Y/N. Need you for your beauty shot for the others. Can’t have you bleeding out now, can we? Not when I can kill – a lot of stones with one…Ah, doesn’t work as well this time.” You heard parts of it as your ears rang, you were pretty sure your face was a mess at this point; you definitely knew that your nose was most likely broken.

He went to talk again, probably try and hit you again, when a loud noise broke his concentration.

“Kara?” He asked, worry genuinely coating his voice. Kara was thrown to the floor the next moment by a bloodied but pissed Bobbi Morse. Who, right now, was running on sister instincts, and mother hen mode.

Ward seemed to tell, as he pulled his pistol out. At first, Bobbi froze, thinking he’d shoot you and be done; but, just her luck, he shot at her instead. He missed, however, as you had a bit of fight left in you and tripped him over.

He really, really, wanted to shoot you. But he knew he couldn’t, that he needed you.

When he turned back, however, he saw that she was gone. While, part of him was angry at that fact, he smiled; now he had you were he wanted you. Now, she’d run back to SHIELD and bring them here; to him, to find you. Seemed it was starting to come together.

 Bobbi was running, just running with pure adrenaline keeping her going. She rounded a corner, taking a moment to collect herself and catch her breath; finally letting herself process what had just happened.

Well, what had happened was that (in her eyes) she had failed. She was out, sure, but you weren’t. You were still in Ward’s hands; and now he was probably going to kill you. It would be on her, she couldn’t let you down like that, however. She couldn’t let the others down; not with everything seemingly falling apart at the seams as it had been before you both got captured; with Skye now in a new place and all this going on.

Your death would surely bring it all coming crashing down around them. Burn SHEILD to the ground and send them into a spiral they probably couldn’t come back from.

You were like the glue to the team; you could fight like most of the them, but you were the one they wanted to protect the most. Being the youngest tended to do that.

Now she wasn’t sure if you were going to walk out of there alive or be pulled out in a body bag.

Still, she ran to the nearest pay phone. Was it smart? No, but she needed to get back to base to rally what remained of the troops.

“Who is this?” Coulson asked over the phone.

“Coulson, thank god,” She breathed into the phone in a rush.

“Bobbi?” He asked, then heard some rustling on the line.

“Bob?” Hunter, she let out a sigh of relief at hearing the man’s voice once again. He too seemed panicked but let out his own sigh at her own.

“It’s me,” She said softly into the phone, having calmed down a little, “I need some help.” She admitted.

“Where’s Y/N? Is she with you?” Coulson asked over the line, forgetting the whole formality thing, not when a life was on the line.

“That’s what’s happened…” She said as she told them her location.

 An old box was placed on the table, the bang waking you back up; Ward had placed two rusty nails in your feet to stop you from moving those next. He took two jack cables and attached them to the what you realised was a battery.

“There you are,” He said with some glee as he turned the battery on, “And there we go,” He turned to you, “Now, this is gonna hurt just a little.” His prewarning didn’t help with the pain as seemingly thousands of volts all went through you at once; like thousands of knives all stabbing you at once in different places.

“Babe, you promised you wouldn’t kill her. We need her, remember?” You vaguely heard Kara say, her words made Ward stop, and allowed you catch your breath and try to recover. Despite the fact that you were most likely to die here, you were glad that whoever had distracted Ward had got out.

“You’re right,” He conceded as he threw box in a rage, working through the last part of his adrenaline he gathered in that moment and turned back to your broken self.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He yelled as he clicked in front your face to get your attention, “Can’t have you leaving us just yet, kiddo. Not until SHIELD come for you that is.” He said as he moved into another room. As soon as he was gone, you had once again slipped away.

“Oh, thank god,” Hunter breathed out as he embraced the woman he truly did love, despite all their flaws and hardships, “I thought I lost you, Bob.” He admitted.

Despite herself, Bobbi let out a broken laugh, “Not yet, not yet.” She assured him as they pulled back in sync, just looking at each other for a moment.

It was Jemma who asked the question that weighed heavily on their minds, “What’s happened to Y/N?” She couldn’t help the quiver in her voice, Afterlife had gone to hell and she was sure she may have just lost one of her best friends to the fight going on over there.

Now she might lose another to Grant Ward of all people. Guilt ate up at her at the fact that she didn’t take another try at him when they went to get Lincoln and Mike Peterson.

“Ward has her,” Bobbi gulped as she told them, “I tried to get her out, I did.” She swore, hoping they’d believe her. It wasn’t like Bobbi Morse to get this emotional, this much of a wreck.

“Hey, Bob, we know you did everything you could do for her. You know Y/N, though, she’d do anything for us too. She made sure you got out so we could all get her out, together.” Right, yeah, Hunter was right.

Jemma seemed to know the frazzled state her friend was in, “I should give you a check-up, clean and patch you up.” To Bobbi it sounded like an offer.

“We need to focus on –” But, as it turned out, it wasn’t one.

“You’ll do no bloody good to her dead, would you? She did what she did, so you’d get out, like Hunter said. Now, let me help you so Hunter can get a team to find Y/N.” Jemma said in the best doctor voice she could manage, despite the circumstances they were currently in.

“What do you think he’ll do to her?” Jemma didn’t know how to answer Bobbi’s question as her own mind spun countless horrible images about that idea. However, soon after Bobbi spoke it, she wouldn’t have to wager a guess.

“Guys.” Coulson said as he approached them, serious face there but worry was there too, “Ward just sent us this.” He said as he held up a photo of you, more bloodied and bruised.

In fact, you looked dead.

 “Bob –”

“She can’t be.” Bobbi wasn’t sure who she was trying to bater with, really anyone at this point. Any deity, in case they did exist, really.

Jemma, desperately trying to keep it together, merely focused (after taking a breath to try and steady herself) on helping her friend mend her many small wounds.

“Why do more to her than to you?” Hunter asked.

Bobbi let out a shaky breath as she answered, “He wanted to see which one of us would break first. Figured that, because I didn’t, maybe Y/N would…or that, having to listen to him torture her would make me break.”

“Helped you break something,” Bobbi looked at him with a confused look, “Out, he helped you break out. Sorry love, trying to find the light in the dark and all that.”

“I need –” Jemma pushed her back down; despite her size, Jemma could be physically strong when she needed or wanted to be. This was one of those moments.

“You, sit down and stay there until I’m done,” Bobbi wasn’t about to argue, “Can you get a team and find her…please?” Hunter nodded at Jemma’s request.

“We don’t leave are own. That applied in the SAS, even Izzie, Idaho and others in that field had that code,” He waited until both women met his eyes, “And it damn well applies to hear too.” He said with conviction.

He approached Bobbi, the two holding each other’s arms, “Bring her home. And don’t die.” Was all Bobbi asked.

“You know me love, always one for danger.” Hunter said with a smirk.

Time to get the whole family back together. Coulson would do what he could with Skye, Hunter would handle getting you back.

He’d make damn sure of it that, one way or the other, you were coming home.

 May had even tagged along, seemed her own mother bear instinct had been ticked off when she had found out what had happened to you. Everyone Hunter knew on it mainly wanted to just get you out. But Hunter had revenge on his mind too; He could tell that Melinda May had the same idea going in.

“Come on, Y/N, where are you?” He asked himself quietly, going down the many hallways as he continued to look for you. Sweat was almost bleeding off of him at this point; mainly because of his movements, carry a gun and all his other items were heavy after all; but it was also the stress. He could turn the very next corner only to find you a corpse nearly cold.

 You woke up again, this time in a chair with your mouth gagged, you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out for without bleeding out, but you made damn sure to do your best to fight it. You weren’t someone to just give up; not went a slither of hope was still in the air that you could still get out of this.

You struggled against your restraints both on your hands and feet, nothing came of it. Fuck. You then tried to flip the chair, it moved a slight bit, but was then stopped by the chains that held it down.

You then noticed the gun. The sniper aimed at the door, you followed the wire and saw that the trigger was rigged to the door.

Your eyes widened, whoever your rescuer-to-be was going to be; they’d be dead within the instant they saw you.

You couldn’t let that happen.

 Hunter was starting to get tired; he was almost done with all the doors and almost out of hope. But he kept going, he made a promise; one to Bobbi and the other to himself to not give up and give in. To bring you home, not matter how that looked.

He braced himself against a wall, counted to three, then kicked the door in.

 You heard footsteps, then saw a faint shadow under the door. Now or never.

 As he kicked the door, a BANG! Went off, and blood scattered around his face. He was stunned by both the sound and the blood. But even more stunned to see that it was you who had taken the bullet.

“Y/ -- Y/N!” He yelled out as he dropped his rifle and to his knees, untying the restrains on your feet, then your hands as he laid you down.

“Y/n, love, can you hear me?” He asked, not getting a response. He put his finger to your wrist, letting out a breath as he felt a very faint pulse.

It was faint, but there. You were still alive.

 When you came to again, a bright light was in your way. You closed your eyes and tried to let out a groan, but it was croaky; the next moment, Jemma was above you, bright and relived smile on her face, “Y/N!” She said in her cheery voice, but you heard the slight crack.

She slowly got you up, readjusting your pillows for you as you got more comfortable in your new position.

She then, as gently as she could, hugged you, “I thought we lost you.” She confessed, you put a hand on her arm to remind her that you were still here.

She pulled back, sniffling a little, before letting out a teary laugh at the fact that you had survived, “Oh god, it’s so good to have you back!” She said, meaning every word.

The next few hours were a blur as each member came in to see you; Skye hugged you and apologised for not being there sooner, you just told your friend that it was ok and that you were happy she’d made it back too; Mack was a smile and one of his well known hugs; Coulson and May smiled and gave you a quick scan of their own (parents, right?).

Then it was Bobbi, she sat next to you and put a hand on your arm as if to ground herself. To assure herself that you, her friend, really was ok.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you out.” She said, seemingly taking all the guilt.

“Bobbi, no one saw it coming. Besides,” You rested your hand on top of her own, “We made it out.”

She smiled, that was true. You had made it out in one piece. And she was right, you were a fighter; you never broke nor wavered.

And, she knew that if the tables were turned, you’d make the same moves she had.

As, in your line of work, you never left someone behind.

[fade-and-loathing-in-thedas]

It's WIP Wednesday and I've decided I'm actually going to start doing it (rather than just thinking about it), so here's a scene from my next part of my Merry Band Of Wardens series: The Prince and the Pauper

Summary: Prince Declan had always assumed Lady Luck would forever be on his side, I mean who doesn't love a extremely handsome and charming rogue with a silver tongue, but when his younger brother stages a coup he ends face down in the dirt and getting blamed for his eldest brother's murder. Now he's stuck in a jail cell with grumpy dwarf, who if they had the chance would rip the tongue from his mouth, facing his soon to be execution. Things were certainly not going well for him.

AU information/summary: Basically, none of the potential wardens die and they all end up joining the wardens. This post has some information about the OCs if your interested

CW: Sexual humour, that's it.

Declan sighed and rattled the chains of his manacles, but they remained stubbornly affixed to the cold stone wall of the prison cell. Orzammar's prison cells, like all the other places outside the Diamond Quarter, were a total shithole. He'd never been outside the Diamond Quarter mind you, but he felt more than qualified to make that judgement call. His head throbbed, either because of how much ale he’d had to drink last night or because Behlen's cronies hadn’t been gentle with him during his arrest. His memory of the events wasn’t crystal clear, but his favourite blue doublet had a tear in it, and he was fairly certain he’d never get the stains out of the knees of his pants. Which, not for the first time, but Declan preferred to be on his knees by choice, and not because he was being dragged through the dirty streets by a bunch of thugs working for his brother. Waking up in chains wasn’t his favourite way to start the day either, that was for sure. Well, not unless he’d agreed to it beforehand.

“I suppose you’re wondering how I got into this mess,” he announced loudly in the gloom. 

The pile of straw on the other side of the cell rustled, and a grubby face appeared. “I wasn’t. I don’t care.” 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Declan said to his cellmate. 

“Then who were you talking to?” his cellmate demanded, jutting his jaw out.

“I was soliloquising,” Declan said. “Well, I was hoping to, but somebody won’t shut their mouth.” 

“Why don’t you shut your mouth?” 

Declan snorted. “How can I soliloquise if I do that? Now, hush.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re wondering how I got into this mess.”

“I am not wondering!” his cellmate snarled. “I am trying to sleep! Shut up!”

“Since you’re awake,” Declan said, "You wouldn't happen to know when they're serving breakfast?"

"I really hope they cut your tongue out," his cellmate grumbled.

Declan hummed. “That would be a terrible loss. My tongue would be mourned throughout the land.” 

“I doubt that,” his snappish cellmate replied. “You're full of sod and talk like the lyrium addled.” 

Declan grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean for talking.”

Eyes widened in the shadows, and then the straw rustled again as his cellmate attempted to bury himself under it. “Shut up!”

Declan leaned his head back against the wall and chuckled. Well, at least he could entertain himself while he was here, right? His cellmate—a drab, grimy creature who appeared to be mostly composed of straw—was just the sort of prickly arsehole that was fun to torment. It was especially fun since they were chained to opposite walls, and Declan had already checked that his cellmate couldn’t reach him. If he attempted to attack Declan in a fit of rage, he’d be brought up short. Declan had learned very early in life that with a mouth like his, he’d needed to develop a very strong sense of self-preservation to go along with it.

So, he decided to poke at the wretch some more, if only to entertain himself. “What are you in here for, anyway? Let’s see if I can guess.”

“No!” The grubby brand snapped. “Go away!” 

“Well I would, but...” Declan rattled his chain. “I’ll tell you what, though. I get to ask you three questions, and then I get three guesses. If I can’t work out your crime, I’ll be quiet for the rest of the day. Deal?”

The straw parted and the man sat up. He was younger than Declan had first thought, bigger too–a lot bigger. His red hair was cropped close and, despite his messy beard, Declan could tell his features were strong enough to be called handsome under all that dirt, but he was still a dishevelled mess. “You’ll really shut up?”

“I’ll definitely think about it.”

His eyes were really quite lovely. They shone a striking gold colour when the candlelight caught them. What a shame his scowl ruined what little he had to work with.

“Fine, but yes or no questions only.”

Cheeky little shit. 

“I suppose I could make that work.” Declan didn't really think he could guess the man's crime, but he was going to have a lot of fun trying. Redheads were so easy to make blush—in all sorts of places.

[randomguywithwords]

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 13 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 13: Violet’s Assignment

AO3 Link: Here

Previous Chapters: 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

––––––––

After the training session, Geten returned to her room, the afterglow of her victory still present on her lips. The wind that whipped through her parka as she rode her ice platform felt cooler than usual; she felt more free and giddy. A minute had passed before she realised she had been humming from satisfaction, to a song she did not remember. 

Perhaps her good mood would last for at least a day or two. 

But as she reached the window of her floor, she saw a soldier standing outside. 

“What?” Geten fixated him with a glare. 

With a shaky bow and a total refusal to make eye contact, he passed her an envelope with arms which were trembling even more, and ran off the second she took the letter. 

Smirking as she saw him sprint down the hallway, she opened it to see a typewritten message by Shigaraki. 

“Emergency meeting, 10am. Usual.” His signature was scrawled at the bottom.

That’s a couple of minutes from now. Damn it. 

With a sigh, she created her ice platform once more and glided towards Re-destro’s mansion. But as she opened the doors of the council room, she frowned, but then...Ah, I see, so that’s what he wants.

“I assume you want to talk to me alone.” Geten scanned the council room, all chairs unoccupied except the one in the middle, where Tomura Shigaraki was leaning back on his, dressed in his black jacket and wearing his signature disembodied hand on his face. 

“Take a seat,” Shigaraki said. Geten did, and then Shigaraki began.

“Have you and Dabi settled your issues?” 

“Somewhat.” Geten met the boy’s eyes. They were sunken and darkened around the edges, like a skull which refused to die. Those crimson irises were the same ones which had rooted the charging Liberation Army in their place out of pure terror, despite Trumpet’s Inciting. 

A question arose to her lips, albeit she did not speak it, as those eyes bore into her: Can he see? Does he have vision? A vision for the Liberation Front? 

These thoughts had formed whenever she saw him address the PLF: at the festival where Re-destro had abdicated his throne, and at yesterday’s meeting.

“So you two can lead the Violet Regiment?”

“Yes.” 

“Good, two more questions.” Shigaraki relaxed his arms on the table as he leaned forward. “Who are you, Apocrypha?”

“You know my name.”

“Apocrypha? Geten? Iceman?” Shigaraki snorted. “Cut the bullshit, they’re your...usernames. The first two mean the same, and it’s ironic, because their meaning tells me you don’t know the answer either.” 

“Then why ask me?” 

“Because I’m wondering if you want to know.”

“No. I have no need for a name. I was Re-destro’s weapon, Shigaraki. A sword has no need for a name any more than a stray dog does. So please, get to the point.” She ended her speech with a glare.

Shigaraki met it with an indifferent expression, perhaps even surprised by that sudden outburst, but then his cracked lips widened in approval. 

“I would’ve killed you for uttering my name.” Shigaraki’s smile was unnerving, and Geten flinched despite herself, “but I could tell you’re different. You’re different from the rest of these cowards.”

“When you have 2 CEOs and a politician, and you had a...journalist, or whatever she was, you were never spoken to properly. Everything needed a bush to beat around. I like to disintegrate the whole forest.” Shigaraki placed four fingers on the desk. Geten knew he could activate it autonomously now, but she understood his point. 

Her hands were off the desk before she realised it. Shigaraki seemed to notice it, and continued,

“I’m asking for your loyalty, because it’s bleeding dry in this army. I’m not stupid. You don’t take over an enemy city and expect the people to bow down. There’s gonna be riots. There’s gonna be a lot of plotting. If you’re smart you would have realised it by now, or even gotten involved…” He looked at her with a suggestive grin. She kept her face impassive, as a bead of perspiration rolled down her forehead.

“But I get the feeling you like to settle things face to face. You’re no assassin, are you? Your skill points seem more geared towards strength.” Shigaraki’s gaze felt like it was penetrating her mind, probing her thoughts. She felt unsafe – a person walking through an alley at twilight. That person never saw the blade of ice, just darkness, and then darkness eternal. 

She felt as vulnerable as the people she had killed.

Does he know too? There’s no way he couldn’t, right? He knew about Takame, wouldn’t he question Skeptic and Trumpet why he wasn’t on the official register? But he said he spoke straightforwardly, not like them. Not like the MLA. 

“Of course not.” The words flowed from her mouth before she could think about it. “And…you have my allegiance, Grand Commander.” She gave a slight bow of her head, even as her mind was suspended in a frenzied blizzard – blind, in chaos, terrified. 

She kept her head down, feeling queasy looking at those red eyes of his. She finally understood why the army had stopped in their tracks then. 

“Good. I look forward to seeing what you can do for me,” Shigaraki said. “Ah, right on time.”

The doors opened behind her as the rest of the PLF lieutenants arrived, one by one.

So there is a meeting? Geten quickly regained her composure. The rest of them could not see her in that state. She could tell some were staring at her, probably curious as to why she was so early. Bowing her head, she made eye contact with no one, her face heating up. 

Once everyone was in, with Dabi strutting in last, the meeting commenced. 

“We have a problem.” Shigaraki stood up. “We wanted to lay low till next Friday. Well, it was going fine, but lately we’ve been picking up some chatter, chatter directed at us. Skeptic, if you would.”

Chikazoku arose with a bow towards Shigaraki and continued with the briefing. “I’ve been watching the media and the attention about the ‘Deika City Incident’, and it was dying out as expected, but I noticed one source that was constantly publishing article after article about conspiracy theories about the Incident. We’re still being talked about, and that cannot happen. I’ve tried on my own ends to stem the flow, but whoever this group or individual is, they’re not stopping. We sent some soldiers from neighbouring provinces to investigate, but they’ve all went silent. So we’re sending Carmine to deal –”

“No.” Shigaraki’s voice cut in as sharp as a knife. “Send Violet.” 

“Tomura-kun!” Toga pouted. “I wanted to taste some blood. Send my regiment!” 

“No, I want Apocrypha and Dabi to do this.” 

All eyes were scattered between Shigaraki, Dabi and her. She kept her eyes on the table, flickering upwards as Re-destro began to speak. 

“But...great leader,” Yotsubashi chuckled nervously. “Isn’t it better to send people like Mr Compress and Himiko Toga who can eliminate people silently?”

“Yeah! I like you, Re-destro! Lemme taste your blood!” Toga cheered, waving a knife at Re-destro like a toddler, who shrunk back into his seat looking even more anxious about the mentally insane girl. 

“Exactly. I want to see how the two of them deal with an assassination.”

The matter seemed to be settled. Even Dabi hadn’t spoken a word in protest. Looking at the corner of her eye, he was shrugging. “Whatever. I get to get out of this shithole and burn some people. I’m cool.” 

“Weren’t you late because you were stuffing yourself with ramen?” Spinner deadpanned, receiving a glare from the fire-user. 

“We’ll get it done, Shigaraki.” Dabi ignored the statement. 

“As long as you don’t draw attention,” Compress warned, causing Dabi to wave at him with a “Yeah, yeah, got it.”

Then Dabi turned to look at the CEO. “Skeptic, fill us in.”

–––––––

Violet Regiment left almost immediately after the meeting. Well, it wasn’t so much of a regiment as it was just Dabi and her. They had decided that an assignment of this caliber did not require any cannon fodder. So, after gathering the items needed and taking a shower, the two of them were on a private plane heading to the Tokugawa Prefecture. 

“Damn, I could get used to this.” Dabi leaned back on his luxury seat, kicking his legs up on the table. Geten, who was seated on the adjacent, opposite seat, snorted. 

“You could. But the ride is only a few hours.”

“Let me enjoy it, come on.” Dabi opened his can of coke and taking a chug.

Sighing, she looked out of the window, seeing the afternoon sky tinted with pink on the horizon. It would be evening when they landed. 

“Aren’t you wondering why we were sent?” Geten looked back at the relaxing Dabi. 

“It’s probably a punishment. Either one of us pissed Shigaraki off.” 

“So you think this whole thing is fake?”

Dabi shrugged. “Maybe. Or Shigaraki doesn’t think it’s that big of a threat to deal with it properly. Or he doesn’t care about us.”

“Does that not bother you?” Geten crossed her arms seeing how nonchalant Dabi was. 

“Nope. Deika City was getting boring anyway. If I have an excuse to leave, I’m taking it. And Shigaraki can send me wherever he likes, I know when to listen and when to do my own thing. You, on the other hand…” Dabi wagged a finger at her. “You were Re-destro’s little puppy, weren’t you?”

“Call me that again and I’ll slap you.” She sent a look of venom his way. 

“But you get what I mean.” Dabi finished his coke. “From what I can tell, you’ve spent your whole life at the heels of these MLA snobs. Now, we’re here, and you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing. I’m abiding by Destro’s principles of the strengths of Meta Abilities. But…” Geten’s eyes trailed to the floor. “You got everything else right.”  

That’s it. That’s what I’ve been missing. The League was so...free, and the MLA was so stringent with its rules. 

“Hey.” Dabi’s voice made her look up, expecting more taunting, but his expression caught her by surprise. His eyes were unusually soft, his expression not as condescending. Basically, he looked less like himself, if that was even possible. “You don’t find anything wrong with that?”

“With what?” She tilted her head curiously. 

Dabi opened his mouth, then closed it. Putting his empty can on the table, he said, “Nothing. Why you’d even ask me about this assignment in the first place? Did you do something to Shigaraki?” 

Right, he was late. 

“Well, besides wanting to kill him and everyone else when we met, I can’t imagine why he would want to punish me,” Geten said. 

Dabi saw past her sarcasm studying her expression. “Really, what happened?” 

He could be relaying everything back to Shigaraki. I can’t tell him about what I’ve done, or he’ll do something, or not trust me. 

Why does that matter? Another part of her argued. You can finish this job on your own. 

But that was it, wasn’t it? If she finished this assignment flawlessly, Shigaraki’s suspicions would be confirmed, assuming he didn’t know about her deeds beforehand. And what would happen then? Would he kill her? Lock her up? Demote her to a common foot soldier?

And why was she caring about his trust anyway?

She stared at Dabi, unable to totally decipher his expression, but there was some hint of genuine curiosity, since his eyes were slightly wider than usual. He didn’t seem like the type of person that would be Shigaraki’s servant to the extent of spying on her. 

Can I trust you? She thought.

“He asked me if I wanted to know my name.” It was a good-enough truth. 

“Really? You don’t know yours?” Dabi raised an eyebrow. 

“No. And I don’t care about it either. My name – even if he actually knows it, won’t be a bargaining chip.”

“Why? Don’t you want to know who you are?”

“It’s not important.”

“Hm. Okay,” He said. He didn’t press further, but Geten knew there were a lot of things he left unsaid. The conversation died as Geten turned back to look out the window. 

She had a lot of things unsaid too, but saying any of them to the wrong person could spell death for her. 

Hawks’ words now felt a lot more real, like a spider’s web wrapping her up. No, she didn’t feel safe. Because, and she realised this with a start – if she didn’t need real allies then, she did now. 

The word sounded so foreign. Whatever the meaning of it was, she knew at its roots, she just needed people to trust. And loyalty was bleeding dry in the PLF. 

She looked to the corner of her eye to see Dabi taking a nap. A realisation dawned on her. She had no idea why – It could have been because she had, at the very least, the leverage of strength over him, or that he spoke of Shigaraki and the MLA with disrespect, or the seemingly genuine interest in her name…

But out of all the people in the PLF, if she had to pick one person to trust, it would be him. 

But can I, Dabi? Can I trust you, and would you trust me?

––––––––––

Done. Yay. Entering a new “arc” so to speak. I really hope the tonal issues doesn’t throw your reading off. On one hand I’m trying to craft a proper internal struggle in both characters about their identity and on other issues plaguing their lives. But on the other I still want their witty banter (and fluff in later chapters), so if the disparity is too apparent, let me know. Thanks. 

And I haven’t forgotten about Dabi’s backstory, or Twice or Hawks. All in good time. I have the next few chapters planned out already. Not sure how long they’re going to be, but for this “arc” it’s really just gonna be the two of them. 

Also, anon, if you’re reading this, I hope the Geten/Shigaraki conversation was what you envisioned, or that you’re okay with how it turned out. If the dynamics wasn’t what you thought it would be, sorry ><

As for everyone else, I hoped you liked it. Any feedback is appreciated (like, really, if you didn’t like it for anyone reason, do let me know. If you want to send anon hate, I’ll genuinely entertain it as long as you really do have something constructive to discuss, and not like, idk, you just hate Dabi or villains in general. Doesn’t add anything to the discussion – well, nothing useful anyway.)

[ericsonclan]

Nighttime Violets

Summary: Louis visits Violet before they both head to bed and they talk about the past, what to remember, and how to move on.

Read on A03:

Violet was about to head to bed when she heard a familiar rat-a-tat-tat at her door. Louis’ special knock. Somewhat reluctantly, Violet shuffled to the door and cracked it open. Louis grinned at her with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for the late-night house call. I brought a peace offering to make up for the timing,” He raised a wrinkled bag that Violet was sure contained the decade-old pretzels he still insisted were a special treat.

Violet rolled her eyes, but opened the door wider and stepped back. “Come on in,”

“Thanks!” Louis strode into the room and promptly plopped himself on top of her desk. Looking around the room, he took in the familiar decorations that Violet had kept up for years: her button making machine and the few buttons she kept in her personal collection, the faded glow-in-the-dark stars that they had moved from her ceiling to her bedside wall after the accident, her worn-out vest tossed carelessly across the chair. He absentmindedly kicked his legs back and forth, whistling to himself. Violet stood across from him, arms crossed, waiting for him to speak. Louis noticed her stance and stopped mid-note. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m visiting tonight,”

“Duh,”

“Well, now that our newest member has been with us for a few months, I wanted to see how you were feeling,”

Of fucking course.

“Get out,”

“Whaaat?”

“I said out,” Violet walked over to her dresser where her hunting knife lay.

“OK! OK!” Louis exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. “God, I wasn’t thinking you’d react this harshly! And after I intentionally came in the dead of night so no one would hear us gossiping!” Though the sight of Violet’s knife was certainly pressing, he suddenly found himself looking beyond it to something else that lay on the dresser. “Wait a second. Is that… a violet?”

“What? No! Get out!” Violet shouted, advancing threateningly with the knife.

“Oh my god, it is, isn’t it?” Louis leapt off the desk onto the extra bunk bed, wriggling across the mattress to get a better look at the flower. “Potted and everything!” He turned to wiggle his eyebrows at Violet. “I bet I would only need one guess as to who gave you this,”

“Be quiet!” Violet hissed, shooting a worried glance toward the door.

“Does the name of the gift giver perhaps start with a P?”

“You know it does,” Violet sullenly took a seat on her bed.

“How long ago did this happen?”

“A few days. She went to practice fishing with Clementine and when they came back she gave it to me. Said she found it near the stream,”

“It’s potted,”

Violet shrugged noncommittally. “Guess she found it by the greenhouse,”

“Holy shit, Violet. Do you know what this means?”

“Don’t be weird about this,”

“She’s totally into you! I was right all along!” Louis leapt up from the bed, doing a little happy dance. “I can’t believe this! This is way better than I hoped to find!”

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will end you,”

“Well, Clementine must know already, right? Considering that Prisha was with her when she got the flower,”

“Louis,”

“Ok, fine! I won’t talk about it with anyone, not even Clementine!” Louis looked over at the potted flower again, putting a hand up to his mouth to cover his smile. “I just can’t believe this is actually happening. Have you told her yet?”

“Told her what?”

“Violet – c’mon! It doesn’t take a genius to notice the way you look at her. And she brought you a flower, your namesake flower! You can’t say that’s not a sign that she feels the same way,”

“I can say whatever I fucking want,” Violet pulled her blanket from where it had lain bunched up along the side of her bed. She smoothed the blanket out across the mattress, a clear signal that she was going to bed.

“Are you waiting for her to make the first move?”

“I’m not waiting for anything!”

“’Cause I know you get shy when it comes to stuff like this. Like that time when Minnie-”

Violet slammed her hands down on the bedframe, causing a huge clang. Louis flinched. “Don’t,”

“I’m sorry. I just got caught up in the excitement and it slipped out.”

“… I know,”

The room was silent as Louis looked for the right words to say next. There weren’t any. Looking at her bedroom walls, he saw some of Tenn’s old drawings lining the walls, ones he had given to Violet over the years. A crayon drawing of Violet made several years ago smiled at him from the top of the wall. Various depictions of wildlife and the nature around Ericson could be found amongst the colored pages. 

There were some pieces missing though, ones that Louis remembered being displayed proudly just a few years ago. Pictures of Minnie and Sophie. Group drawings with Violet in the middle. Memories of the times before the twins had been lost. Before Minnie had been found again, only to turn her weapon against them and try to kill them herself.

Louis looked over at Violet. She had her arms wrapped around herself, knees pulled tight against her chest. Her face lay against them, turned away from him. He prayed he hadn’t made her cry.

“Violet?”

He heard nothing in response.

“Promise you won’t kill me if I say what’s on my mind?”

More silence.

He would have to take that as a yes. Taking a deep breath, Louis decided to go for it. “Prisha’s not Minnie. What happened on the boat and on the bridge, it won’t happen again,”

She didn’t move. Louis wasn’t sure what to do. Then a soft, shaky sniffle emerged from Violet’s still form. Louis immediately took a seat beside her on the bed, taking her in his arms and making soft shushing sounds.

“Shit, Vi, I’m sorry. I went too far. Shh, shh, it’s gonna be okay. I won’t say anything else, I swear,”

“Fuck you, Louis,” Violet mumbled against his chest, taking a long, snotty inhale. “I was doing alright today,”

“I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you,”

Violet pushed herself up to lean against the back wall, rubbing tears out of her permanently bleary eyes. She couldn’t see shit when she was crying.

Louis was still holding onto her hand, gently running his thumb against her palm in apology. He just said sorry for pushing her, but he wasn’t going to leave till she opened up, was he? Asshole.

“What happened that night on the boat changed everything,”

Louis was surprisingly silent. He must be waiting for more.

“It changed what I thought I’d lost. Then I lost it all again. But it was worse than before. I didn’t used to think that was possible. After that, after losing Tenn…. For a while I didn’t think I could come back. Like what was the point anymore in living in this shithole world with these useless eyes and everybody gone-”

She could feel Louis’ grip tighten on her hand.

“… But not everybody was gone. You were still here. And Clem. And Ruby. And AJ and…. You guys didn’t give up on me, even when I had nothing to give. It took so, so long to just feel anything at all again. To care at all. To still try. But I got there. When Prisha came…” Violet’s spare hand tangled in her blanket, clasping and unclasping it. “It felt different again. Not bad, but… I can’t deal with it. Whatever this is, I don’t want it,”

“Do you really mean that?” Louis whispered. “It’s OK to be scared. Hell, I’m sure Prisha knows plenty about that too. She wouldn’t hold it against you if you were nervous,”

Violet shook her head. “Don’t do this. Don’t act like you know what this is or what she’s thinking. It can’t be true,”

“What can’t be true? That she likes you?”

“Louis, have you seen me lately?” Violet turned to look him dead-on. Even this close, she could barely make out the freckles that covered her friend’s face. “Don’t act like this looks good,”

“Violet-”

“No. Don’t brush this off like it’s not a big fucking deal,”

Louis sighed. He let go of her hand and leaned back to take a place against the wall. “You know, after Clem lost her leg, I would catch her flinch sometimes when I touched her. Not super obviously, and not all the time. She had her good and her bad days, just like you. When I eventually got the nerve up to ask her about it, she just looked down at where her leg used to be. Then she started crying.” 

Louis shook his head, eyes downcast. “I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t see how she thought that it was a big deal – not from a survival standpoint of course – but for me. I told her again and again that I didn’t care at all, that she was still the badass who I’d fallen for the second she walked into my life.

But it wasn’t enough for Clem. That conversation didn’t change things. It took me a while to realize that it wasn’t really about what I thought or how I saw her – it was how she saw herself. To me, she was just as beautiful as ever, but for Clementine… I think it took her a long time to learn to see herself again, her real self,” 

Louis turned to look at Violet. “Now, I’m not saying that what I think I see between you and Prisha is the real deal, but whether it is or not, I don’t think your eyes would be a deal-breaker for her. Just like her busted arm doesn’t matter much to you. Even if there aren’t romantic feelings there, I’m sure she sees the same thing I do when she looks at you,” 

He reached out to cup Violet’s face with one hand. “A total badass who’s a complete softie underneath,”

Violet’s lip trembled. Damnit, she was not going to start crying again. Seeing her expression, Louis chuckled and pulled her against him so that her face was once more hidden from him.

“All in all, I would say this has been a quite productive evening,” She could feel him shift on the bed. “Clementine and A.J. are already asleep, so if you like I could definitely spend the night. It’s been ages since you and I have had a proper slumber party,”

Violet mumbled something, but it was lost in the folds of his trenchcoat.

“What was that?”

“I said you have to sleep on the opposite bunk,”

“Oh, but of course! How about we play a game? I bet I can catch more pretzels in my mouth from across the room than you can!”

Violet straightened up, rubbing her eyes dry one last time. “Alright, you’re on,”

“Loser takes pelt tanning duty?”

“Yeah, right. I know it’s already your shift tomorrow,”

“Dang it! Can’t blame a guy for trying. Ok, I’ll start first. Get ready for some expert marksmanship!” Louis pulled away to take his seat on the opposite bunk.

As Violet adjusted to her place on the bed, her eyes caught the potted violet. Gingerly, she picked it up and placed it further from the edge of the dresser and the pretzel warfare that was about to ensue. Something within her felt calmer. Within that calm, perhaps she could finally admit to herself the twinge of excitement that came with Prisha’s gift.

A pretzel hit the side of her face, and she turned to Louis with a frown. “A little warning next time!”

“That was just a warmup!”

Violet rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. Wherever things went, she could be happy with how things were now. She could take a second to live in the moment.

[team-free-will-oneshots]

Betrayal

Title: Betrayal (last part of the ‘Reckless’ series!!) Summary: Dean is unconscious, and you and Sam are defenceless against an unexpected foe. You’re not sure how you’ll make it out of this one. Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader Warnings: some swearing, violence, mentions of blood Word Count: 2,000ish

note; here we are, finally at the end ! thank you all so much for all the love and support you’ve shown this series, i hope this is a satisfying ending !! (and yes i know that gif is michael and its not even the bunker but its the vibe im going for so just like pretend pls). anyway, hope you enjoy!!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

“Darren?”

Your Uber driver?

You set your jaw - you should’ve known something was up with him. What kind of person drives a bleeding, dirty stranger to a place ten hours away in the godforsaken hours of the morning?

Darren smirked, sauntering forward as he twirled his gun in his hands before tossing it uselessly aside. He chuckled.

“The one and only, baby,” he said with a wide grin.

“What- what are you doing here? I gave you five stars-”

Darren scoffed. “And that would mean a lot to me if I was actually an Uber driver. I can’t believe you bought it. You really thought a total stranger would just drop everything and drive you ten hours away? Sweets, that tiny shithole of a town doesn’t even have Uber,” he cackled.

“Then how-”

“Magic,” he hissed. “You thought my sister was working alone? Pfft, she was dumb as a doornail. No, I was behind those well-deserved killings,” he informed you. “She was just my scapegoat. Perfect plan, wasn’t it? I draw you to town with a string of unexplained deaths, all of whom happen to be enemies of hers, of course. You go after her. She takes the brunt of your force, so I don’t have the unpleasant task of killing her. She sends you through the escape portal she’d intended for herself in a last ditch effort to survive - now that, that was the only bit left up to chance,” he said, tutting to himself before continuing.

“But I was there, lurking in the shadows, ready to push you in myself if she didn’t. Sheesh, I’d almost thought you caught me when you heard me behind you. Thank god I’d had the sense to put on a cloaking charm. Not to worry - all went according to plan.”

You set your jaw. “So, what? You wanted me to kill your sister and then be sent to the future? That makes literally no sense.”

He rolled his eyes. “I followed you through the portal, kept you unconscious until I’d had time to find a car, and used my magic to… alter the Uber app on your phone. It’s not like there were any taxis at that time of night, and the state you were in? No reasonable hitchhiker would have picked you up. I was your only option.

“Then, you finally call on me to drive you home.” He laughed. “Oh, I deserve an Oscar for keeping a straight face! A custody battle over a cat? How dumb do you have to be to believe that?” he scoffed. “After I dropped you off, it was all too easy to follow you here. Then there was the pesky task of getting through the defences on this nice-here bunker. That took me a beat, but I’m powerful, and these defences are old. It wasn’t too hard,” he sneered.

“I don’t get it - you just wanted to get to the bunker? Why bother sending me to the future?”

“Well, if I just followed you, the three of you would still be armed with witch-killing bullets, wouldn’t you?” he snapped. He nodded to the guns, abandoned on the floor. “Now, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty certain the bullets in those things aren’t the kind that could kill me,” he smirked. You gritted your teeth, pissed to admit that he was right. Facing a witch tonight had been the last thing you were expecting.

“Fine. You got us - you’re in the bunker, we’re defenceless. What do you want?” Sam demanded, and you jumped, almost forgetting that he was standing beside you.

“What do I want? The Book of the Damned, of course! I’ve travelled in the same circles as the witch Rowena for some time - she’s told us the stories, the raw power that book contains. I want it. And I know you have it,” he said. “Give it to me, and we can forget this ever happened.”

Sam scoffed. “You think we’re just going to give it to you?”

Darren rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t see that you have much choice,” he snarled at Sam, before glancing to Dean’s unconscious body. “Not if you want your brother to live.”

Sam glanced at you, and then to the guns a few feet away, and gave a tiny nod towards Darren. You blinked to affirm your understanding - keep him talking.

“Let me get this straight. You killed your sister so… what, you wouldn’t have to share the book with her?” you asked, and Darren nodded coolly. “And that whole ride… nothing you said was true? The kids in college, your divorce, that dick Billy from accounting, none of it?”

Darren groaned. “Well, the stuff about Billy was true,” he muttered. “He’ll be one of the first people I get rid of when I finally have that damned Book!”

You spared a glance at Sam, who was slowly but steadily inching towards the guns. Behind Darren, you saw Dean beginning to stir. Your adversary’s attention began to waver, and you quickly brought it back to you.

“So why did you blow open the door, anyway?” you asked loudly, and Darren’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“I left the keys in your car.”

Darren’s expression fell flat. “You- the keys? Were in my car? You mean I spent two hours disabling those sigils for nothing?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Well, you’ve had a pretty roundabout way of getting here, anyways, so I guess it this works better with the drama of it all. I’m not totally sure all this was necessary, but kudos to you, man. It’s not often we find someone who actually tries to plan anything out this well,” you interjected. Darren smirked.

“Well, what can I say, I’m-”

“Dead,” Dean hissed from behind him, slamming a broken chair leg onto his head. Darren buckled beneath the heavy wood. “C’mon, that won’t keep him down for long - we need witch killing bullets, asap,” Dean instructed, wincing as he pressed his fingers to his temple. It was sticky with blood - Darren must’ve knocked him out with the butt of his gun.

You and Sam jumped into action - Sam collected all three guns from the floor, and the three of you flew down the hall and into the armoury. You were a little slower than the brothers, nursing a limp from the cluster of splinters buried into your foot. When you got inside, the boys were fumbling through drawers until one of them finally found your stock of witch killing bullets.

An angry shout echoed from the library, followed by the sound of pounding footsteps bouncing off the corridor walls. The three of you divvied up the bullets, and you’d just emptied your gun and began to reload it when the armoury doors were slammed open.

If you’d thought you’d seen Darren angry before, he was positively furious now. A wave of his hands had you and Sam flying into the walls on opposite sides of the room as he stalked towards Dean, who was hurriedly loading his gun. Another wave of Darren’s hand sent the gun flying into the corner.

“You little motherfucker,” he hissed, hand shooting forward, and suddenly Dean was thrown into the wall and clutching at his constricted airways. Darren pressed his hand to the back of his head, where a lump was visibly forming and his hair was matted with blood.

“How dare you!” he yelled. Still disoriented from your fall, you blinked a few times, forcing yourself to focus. Your ribs were protesting - definitely bruised, probably fractured - and the bleeding in your wounded shoulder had started up again. Breathing through the pain, you caught sight of your gun on the ground, only a few paces away, one bullet loaded. Any other bullets had rolled out of sight, but they offered no significance to you now - one was all you needed.

Darren was still hurling insults at Dean as you dragged yourself across the floor, snapping the gun into working order. You spared a glance at your boyfriend, who was starting to turn purple as he weakly clawed at his throat. Sam was knocked unconscious across the room. You were the last line of defence.

You took aim, breathing slowly to steady your shaking hands. Darren raised his hand, about to deliver the final blow. Your chest constricted in panic.

“Hey, dick!” you shouted, and Darren spun around just as you grunted and squeezed the trigger.

The gun kicked back against your body, the force rocking your already injured shoulder, and you cried out in pain. Darren’s eyes widened in shock, mouth forming an ‘o’ as he reached out a hand in a futile effort to protect himself. But before he could summon an ounce of magic, the bullet sailed home, burying itself in his chest.

He collapsed into a bloody heap; pained, choked cries fled his lips before he finally stilled, mouth permanently open in surprise. Dean collapsed to the floor, coughing, cursing and gasping for air, while Sam slowly stirred in the corner. You ran the back of your hand over your face, wiping away the sweat and the tears of pain you hadn’t even realised you’d shed. You cautiously walked forward, kicking Darren in the side of the face. His head lolled to the side, eyes glassy and staring lifelessly at the ceiling.

You breathed a sigh of relief, collapsing to your knees as the adrenaline slowly seeped from your system. You pressed your hand to your shoulder, ignoring the agony in your ribs as you staunched the flow of blood. Dean’s eyes shot to you, and he quickly stumbled over.

“Hey, hey- stay with me, okay?” he instructed, and you nodded, finding the energy for a breathless smile.

“I’m fine,” you told him. “Couple of stitches and I’ll be good as new.”

Dean examined your shoulder first, before nodding as he realised you were right. He got to his feet, hauling you up with him as he cast a glance at Sam, who was rubbing his head as he clambered upright.

“You okay, Sammy?”

“Yeah… yeah, fine,” he groaned. Dean nodded, turning his attention back to you as he helped you limp down the glowing red hall to the infirmary.

Dean’s hands were shaking as he tore through the cabinets, finding bandages, disinfectant, a needle, thread. You reached out and pressed your hand over his, and when his eyes met yours, he finally began to calm down.

“Dean. I’m fine,” you told him. Slowly, as though hesitant to believe it, he nodded.

“You’re fine,” he breathed, repeating it to himself a few times until it finally seemed to sink in. When he looked up again, he was somewhat back to his old self. “So that was your Uber driver, huh? Think you can get a refund?”

You laughed, wincing as Dean cleaned your wound and stitched you up. 

“Well, I definitely regret giving him five stars, at any rate,” you got out through gritted teeth. Dean chuckled as he nodded, cutting the thread and pressing a plaster over the wound, before securing the area with a bandage. 

After a few moments, the power flickered back on, filling the room with a bright fluorescent light that had you and Dean both blinking in surprise. Sam must’ve fixed the outage - about time. The air reeked of disinfectant and your shoulder stung like a bitch, but even amongst the pain, Dean’s eyes met yours and you felt yourself melting under his gentle, loving gaze.

“There,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You smiled.

“Thanks,” you murmured, pausing a beat and enjoying your small pocket of intimacy before breaking the comfortable silence. “So… I saved you.” Your voice took on a teasing lilt. “Think I can handle myself on a hunt now? Or am I still too ‘reckless’?”

Dean chuckled in spite of himself.

“You’re definitely too reckless,” he said. “But maybe… maybe that’s not always a bad thing. Honestly, it’s kinda one of the things I love about you.”

“Yeah?” You grinned, and despite his best intentions, Dean found himself returning it.

“Yeah.”

fin. __________

Reckless tags: @tmiships4life @justagirlinafandomworld @galileeooh @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @sasbb23 @avengersgirllorianna @thewaywarddaughterblog @2dreamcatcher8 @xlplx @spaghettiwoes @gay-ghost-fights @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @mrspeacem1nusone @littleraton @transparentparadiseglitterzombie

Dean tags: @polina-93

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @stealingheartsswift13 @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme

If you’d like to be added to any of my tag lists, shoot me a message!

[papa-rhys]

At Long Last (Javier X Reader)

Note: Here’s the one shot full of angsty goodness that I mentioned. Enjoy!

~ Links are busted! To find more of my writing, head over to the “my writing” section of my blog or check out the “my writing” tag ~

Category: angst with fluff   |   Warnings: none    |    Word count: 2634

Someday 12 years ago

“How could you do that?” you spat at Javier, approaching him at the table where he shined his shoes.

“Do what?” he asked coldly, not even bothering to shoot you so much as an emotionless glance.

“You know what,” you told him, taking a seat opposite him. “Conspiring with Micah. I mean… of all people… Micah?”

Javier rolled his eyes. “I can talk to whoever I want,” he told you.

You watched him for a few moments, shaking your head in disbelief as you looked at the total stranger that sat in front of you. Javier was always so loving – so affectionate. But he’d turned into such a rude, spiteful man and you weren’t sure of when exactly that had happened. It’d had happened right under your nose, seemingly overnight, and it was killing you knowing that you had realised too late to stop whatever change had already been set in motion inside his very being.

“What happened to you?” you asked him quietly, although you hadn’t really intended for it to be anything more than a thought.

“What happened to me?” he scoffed, slamming his shoe brush onto the table and making you flinch. “What happened to you? What happened to loyalty?”

“Loyalty to what, Javier? Loyalty to this?” You stood up and threw your arms out at your sides, motioning to the filthy hovel of a camp that Dutch had led you all to, deep in the damp hellish mountains near Annesburg. “This place is a shithole. This gang has nothing left. We are broken, Javier. All of us. Pearson, Swanson, Mary-Beth; they left! People are running scared and you’re sat there, shining your damn shoes!” You smacked the shoe brush off the table and Javier sprung to his feet, his hand twitching for the revolver at his hip. Your shoulders sank and you let out an exhale. “What are you gonna do, Javier?” you asked, quietly with a defeated shrug; tears burning as they sat in your lower eyelids. “Shoot me?” You turned and walked away, desperate to pull yourself out of the conversation before he saw any of the tears he had left welling in your eyes.

“You’re the one walking away, mi amor!” Javier had called after you; his voice laced with anger and resentment. “You’re the one burying us, not me. Just remember that when you’re all alone and wishing I was there to pick up the pieces – just like I always do. Para siempre es mucho tiempo para extrañarme, querida!”

A few days after

The words had pierced through your heart like a spear; your heart sinking as they filled the cold night air around you.

“Who amongst you is with me and who is betraying me?” Dutch had called out.

And you knew the answer.

You knew Javier would never pick you. It was obvious after the last few day the two of you had had. Cold, distant, uncaring – there was no way now that Javier would ever pick your side to stand by over Dutch’s, and even if the last few day’s hadn’t happened, you still weren’t convinced that he ever would have loved you enough.

But the sinking feeling in your chest as he positions himself behind Dutch still hurt just as much as it would if it had come as a surprise.

You had your gun pointed at Dutch, but your eyes had no interest for anyone in the small gathered crowd other than the man you loved. The man you thought loved you in return. “Javier,” you whispered with a tilt of your head; your eyes pleading with him – begging him through tears. “Please… I love you.”

Javier held his gun up and the way he faltered – lowering the gun for a brief second before raising it again – ignited the tiniest spark of hope, deep within you; no matter how dim and wavering it was. Hope that there was some part of him still in there that was the same as the man who used to tell you he loved you by the light of the campfire.

“I can’t,” Javier sighed before clenching his jaw. “You know I can’t.”

He shook his head from side-to-side so assured, but you knew him better than that. His eyes were reaching out to you desperately, and you knew that in that moment, he was praying that you’d join his side just as much as you were praying that he’d join yours.

But neither of you moved.

And had either one of you known that that was the last moment you’d share with each other – the last memory either of you would have of your once loving relationship – maybe things would have gone differently on that fateful night in Beaver Hollow. Maybe you would have crossed the boundary that separated you from them. Maybe he would have crossed that boundary instead. Maybe you’d have still parted ways, but done so more amicably.

But in retrospect, you suppose neither of you truly believed that would be the end. Both of you still clinging to the hope that the gang wasn’t dead. That your friends hadn’t truly dispersed, never to be seen again, and that the animosity that filled the air in the remnants of your camp was just fleeting.

You’d fled with John and Arthur when the Pinkertons had arrived; lingering behind for the tiniest of split seconds, taking one last look at Javier as he did the same. Then you were sprinting through the caves, scrambling over rocks, desperately trying to make sense of what had just transpired. How your life had just crashed down around you so easily and so quickly. It was all so final and you found yourself in shock; grieving for the family that you’d lost and for the sense of belonging that you’d felt before everything turned so sour. You barely remember reaching the top of the mountain; too lost in thoughts of Javier. Recalling happier times with him – times you feared you’d never have again.

You hadn’t stayed with Arthur on that mountain top. He’d insisted on staying and holding the Pinkertons off so that you and John could escape – an act that was so typical of Arthur Morgan.

John had reassured you all the way down the other side of the mountain; chanting words of encouragement so often that you’d almost thought he believed them. But you knew there was no chance that Arthur was ever coming down off that mountain, and he would be the second person you’d lose that night.

You were scaling rocky foothills with John as the gunfire filled the air – Arthur’s last stand against the Pinkertons and the world in general that had treated him so harshly – and when the gunfire stopped and the night fell silent, you’d turned to John with tears in your eyes, stopping in your tracks.

“He’s – “

“Don’t think about that,” John had told you. “Just keep goin’. It’s okay.”

You’d let the tears roll freely down your cheeks; too tired to hold them back any longer. “I just lost everything I loved in the space of two hours,” you’d told him, choking back sobs. “How can you tell me that any of this is okay?”

Present day

You’ve been gearing up for his moment for weeks. The hunt for Javier Escuella – disgraced revolutionary and current greedy, spineless hitman – has reeked of wild goose chase and every step you and John have taken in barren, war-torn Mexico has been hell. You’ve waited years for the chance to confront the man who left you all those years ago. The man who crushed you. The man who changed you. And now you stand outside El Presidio, looking up at the guards who point their rifles at you, and after all those years of waiting and all those weeks of searching, you’re suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

“I’m here for Javier Escuella,” you shout up to them, shielding your eyes from the hot sun. “I know he’s in there and if I know him – which I like to think I still do – then I know he’s listening right now. So if you’re there, Javier, then just let me in so I can talk. You owe me that, at least.”

There’s a few moments of silence – the guards whispering to themselves with their weapons still aimed steadily at you – before Javier’s voice echoes out from within the walls.

“I owe you?” he calls out. You scan the wall above you in search for him, but you can’t see him. “I think you have that the wrong way around, mi amor.”

The words flutter in your chest. Mi amor. Did he call you that out of love or out of habit?

“Let me in, Javier. I know you probably wanna talk to be just as much as I wanna talk to you, so let’s just skip the foreplay and get on with it.”

The gates in front of you creak open slowly, revealing Javier in all his glory. A shadow of his former self; tired-looking and more unkempt. He used to take such pride in his appearance, but it’s clear to you that his standards have slipped over the years. “I’ll admit I’ve been waiting a long time to hear your voice, cariño,” he says.

“And here I am.”

“Si,” he smiles. “Here you are. At long last.”

You follow Javier to a room that he proudly refers to as his office, though when you’re inside, you find the room resembling more of an ancient dungeon than any kind of workplace. With crumbling walls and boarded up windows, you can’t help but wonder what kind of paperwork is completed in a place like this.

He closes the door behind you and you find yourself scanning the room for potential emergency exits before sternly reminding yourself that you used to claim to love this man. As he did you in return. You’d trusted him with every part of yourself – your secrets, your mind, your body – and you decide not to insult your memory of him by assuming that he means you harm.

You lay your weapons on the table in hopes of calming any similar worries that he may have and Javier follows suit, laying down the same revolver that he used to carry all those years ago; although the metal is scratched and the wood is faded.

“You wanted to talk,” he prompts.

Javier stands before you, but you can find no trace of the man you loved in his lined face and worn-out eyes. Instead, you’re faced with a stranger who looks and sounds and acts completely different to the person that you adored so much – save for the way the left corner of his mouth twitches up into a half smile as he gazes at you. That’s still the same. And it’s painful to watch him look at you like that.

“Well, technically, I came here to arrest you,” you confess. “The Federal agency wants your head pretty badly.”

“Haven’t they always?” he smiles, holding onto his belt with one hand. “But John could have found me by himself. So why did you did you really come here?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “You know why.”

He watches you silently, waiting for you to give him the answer that you both know he already knows. He knows it, so why are you so scared to say it? You push your hair out of your face and take a deep breath before looking him in the eye and saying wholeheartedly and utterly sincerely, “because I love you.”

His stare softens and that flicker of hope you’d felt in Beaver Hollow is back again, burning brighter than it had back then – a warm orange glow within the recess of your self that warms your heart ever-so-slightly.

“You’re still in there,” you tell him. “I know you are. There’s no way that the man I fell in love with was fake.”

“I still am the man you fell in love with, mi amor. I just –“

“No,” you shake your head. “The man I loved would never do any of the things I’ve heard about you.”

“And what do you hear about me, huh? That I’m raping and pillaging like the government rats I work for? That I’m the lowest of the low; the nastiest bandito there ever was?” he scoffs and turns away from you, making his way to the corner of the room and taking a seat behind the old table that sits there. “That was your problem, querida  – you always listened to everyone but me.”

“I what?” you respond, your jaw dropping and your brows furrowing. “You were the only person I listened to. I lived and breathed in your shadow. I did everything I could to make you happy and when it came down to it, you couldn’t even look at me. I begged you and you just… left me.”

Your eyes sting with tears and you don’t bother trying to hide them; instead letting them spill over your lashes and fall to the dusty stonework beneath your feet.

“I left you?” Javier asks. “You left me, mi amor. All this time I thought you fell out of love with me. That I did something wrong –”

“You did! You chose Dutch over me! I was the one who listened to your fret late at night. I was the one who tended to your wounds. The one who held you and cared for you and adored you. And you threw it all back at me for Dutch fucking Van Der Linde!”

“He saved my life, Y/N,” he reasons.

“You used to say the same about me,” you murmur.

“I…” Javier lets out a grunt of frustration; angered, as always, by the way his words fail him. “If Dutch hadn’t brought me back and fed me, I wouldn’t have even met you. If he hadn’t have taught me English, I’d never have been able to speak to you. I would have died, Y/N. Do you know what it means to die? It’s not just life coming to an end, it’s… It’s wasted opportunity. I never would have gotten the chance to live. I never would have laughed at stupid jokes or sang songs around a campfire or…” he trails off into silence, but you wait patiently for him to say it. “I never would have gotten the chance to feel love. And what we had…you and me... that was – that is – everything. It was the reason I woke up in the morning. Dutch gave me that, mi amor. He gave me you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and turn away from him, not wanting him to see the way your lip quivers as your brows scrunch together and hot tears continue to roll down your cheeks. Taking a deep breath and holding back your sobs for long enough to get your words out, you speak. “The way you acted in Beaver Hollow… It was awful. You were so hurtful, Javier. You were mean and spiteful and nasty –“

“I was scared!” Javier yells, springing up from his seat with enough force to send his chair tumbling backwards. You look at him through blurry eyes and smack your hand to your mouth to stifle a sob of anguish. “I was just scared,” he repeats, quietly; resting his hands on the table and leaning forward on them as he cries quietly.

You rush forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. You place your hand on the back of his head as he presses his forehead into your shoulder and for the first time in 12 years, you’re doing what you always felt at home doing -- holding him. His shoulders shake lightly as he cries into you and you smooth the back of his hair down soothingly.

“I was so convinced I’d never see you again,” you sigh, still crying your own tears. “I thought I’d spent the rest of my life pining over a man who never loved me.”

“Never loved you?” he asks, raising his head and cupping your face with both hands. “Watching you run into that cave was the worst thing I’ve ever done. It’s the only thing I’ve seen – the only thing I’ve dreamt about – these past years.”

“I’m so sorry things ended that way,” you relent, shaking your head.

“Si,” he says, kissing your forehead and smiling. “Me too.”

You raise your hands to his cheeks and wipe away his tears with your thumbs as he presses his forehead against yours; the two of you holding each other's faces with both hands and closing your eyes, enjoying the moment of peace that the pair of you are finding in each other’s presence.

This is him. This is Javier Escuella – the Javier Escuella that you loved. The kind, sensitive, loving man who needed care and affection. The man who found happiness in being with his loved ones. The man you’ve been searching for since long before Beaver Hollow.

You’ve finally found him.

[partyinthemysterymachine]

Get Out Of My Town

Ch. 1/?

Harry was back in the town he’d swore he’d never lay eyes on again, and saw in his fitful nightmares.

It hadn’t changed much, he thought. The fog was still so thick that it was hard to hear anything other than his own breathing. It muffled the entire atmosphere. The scrapes and grunts that came from beyond the veil kept his brain in a guessing game with itself; was it just his imagination, or were those noises real? 

He walked the broken white line in the middle of the road. In his hand he clutched a rusted pipe - a weapon that seemed to be dutifully waiting for him after all these years, sitting on a bench that greeted him upon entry to the town. Silent Hill was alive and conscious, as it always had been, as he hated to think about. There was a static in the air that felt excited. The hair on the back of his neck stood to a strange humid warmth in the midst of all this, well, mist. Harry could sense the jittery eagerness of the unknown and ungodly that wanted to welcome him back into the tragic, deadly fold that was Silent Hill.

Of course, he was here for the only reason he endured its hell in the first place. He sighed, looking into the boarded up shop windows and peeling signs as he passed them. His poor girl. This town was obsessed with her. He would give his life over and over for the rest of eternity for her to be left alone and live a normal, healthy life. 

Instead, Silent Hill repeatedly tried to wedge its way back into their lives and steal her away again. The reason he was here meant that it may have succeeded and he would, again, collect his daughter and take her home. 

Harry thought about Silent Hill more often than he liked. He remembered its streets, the school, the hospital, the basements and the houses. He recognized the other side of some of these streets as he walked them, but soon found himself in an area he was unfamiliar with.

Curiosity piqued and senses alert, he cautiously wandered the new section of town. Strangely, and reeking with dangerous foreboding, he had not yet encountered a monster. He heard them in the fog, and saw nothing. 

As a veteran of Silent Hill, this did not sit well with him.

The asphalt gave way to cobblestone as he approached a park. A park! The hedges were neatly groomed and the grass seemed maintained. Harry would have appreciated it if he were anywhere else, perhaps, since here it just rang wrong. He curiously followed the path, and as a wide walk bordered by chipped railing came into his view, he realized he’d found the lake.

Harry approached the railing and peered over into the water. There was nothing to see under the mist. He looked right - past an abandoned hot dog cart - and then left. He was about to turn back when his brain caught up to what he saw out of the corner of his eye (a figure, a dark and horrible hulking figure, just behind him within view, ready to jump him), and Harry quickly swung around.

His heart was thudding in his throat when he found that the monstrosity he thought he saw was in fact just a man. Just a man, sitting on a bench, staring into the fog as though he wore blinders. He didn’t see Harry, and he didn’t seem to even see what he was looking at. He sat there, very still, and very pale.

Harry was an empathetic man. Finding another person stranded in Silent Hill was simultaneously relieving and worrying. He didn’t want to think about what happened to the other people he’d met here. They always reminded him when he closed his eyes. 

With his pipe held low and as unthreatening as he could, he slowly approached the lost soul on the bench. The man was so pale and his face was so forlorn. His dirty blond hair was styled fashionably for 1999, and he wore a dark green jacket that looked military, while its owner did not fit the type.

He tried to edge slowly into the man’s line of sight. “Hello?” he said gently, getting closer. “Hello, I don’t mean to bother you, but I was wondering if you were okay.” 

He frowned, seeing that he wasn’t yet making an impression on this faraway fellow. Harry gripped the pipe firmly, just in case he was to be duped, and leaned down to try to meet this man’s vacant eyes.

That’s when the foggy green irises lifted and Harry was engulfed in a wave so heavy with sadness that he nearly rocked on his heels. His brows knit in concern, and he braced his hand on his knee.

“Hey. You okay buddy?” No response. He looked like he was trying to process what Harry was, much less what he was saying. “My name’s Harry Mason,” he continued, hoping to prompt a similar reply.

“Hi.”

Oh, good. He was cognitive. Harry smiled, and opened his mouth to greet him for a third time, when he was cut off. “Are you a tourist?”

“No, uh, not exactly,” Harry replied, laughing. “I’m looking for someone, actually. But I’ve been here before - uh, the town. I’ve been to the town, though this is a part I’ve never seen before,” he said awkwardly, then looking out to the lake. “It’s a nice view, though. Shame about the weather, huh?”

When he looked at him again, he was held in a curious stare by foggy green eyes that were soaked in defeat. Harry felt a pang of guilt for a reason he couldn’t explain, and again tried to smile at the nameless patron. He was given no kind mirroring. The attempt at friendliness began to fade, and his eyes dropped to the ground. 

Harry wasn’t being given much to work with. As much as he would have liked to help he was in a rush to find Heather, but he felt torn. He couldn’t just leave this guy here without having some idea that he was going to be okay. He appeared to be totally lost to the winds and that worried him; he would feel horrible if something happened and he’d turned his back. Harry tried to smile again. 

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Who are you looking for?”

Finally, they were getting somewhere. The guy was waking up. “My daughter. Her name’s Heather. She’s about, oh, this tall,” he demonstrated with a wave of his hand, “and she has short blonde hair. She’s seventeen. She’s a real sweet girl, handling being a teenager with effortless grace.”

The sarcasm didn’t go unappreciated, and Harry was pleased to see that the wretched man could smile. It brought a wide grin to Harry’s. “I haven’t seen her,” he was told. “I’m sorry. A lot of people go missing here.”

“Yeah,” Harry sympathetically agreed. “This place isn’t like any normal town.”

“That’s for sure.”

Harry watched his eyes return to the lake. He straightened his posture and winced; he wasn’t getting any younger, and he was really regretting putting off that massage appointment that he won at an art faire raffle. He swung his pipe arm and stuffed the other hand into his jacket pocket. 

He studied this odd young man. He didn’t look much older than 27. The entirety of him was haunted and exhausted. It’s possible he was a native of Silent Hill. It made Harry sad to think about her. He still remembers that she was probably the last good thing about the town before it went to complete shit. She was young too. Though it was only two he’d met so far suffering seemingly the same fate, it really felt like too many people. Too many people were being eaten from the heart outward in this shithole. That poor girl.

Poor, sad Lisa.

Harry twisted, and looked down at the stranger. “Well, I’m going to have to get going. You be careful out there, okay, uh..? What was your name?”

Their eyes met again. “James. James Sunderland.”

“James. Be careful, okay? I hope I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. You too. I’ll keep an eye out for your daughter. She sounds nice.”

“Thanks. She means the world to me,” Harry said, offering a final smile as he began to retrace his steps. “I just want to get her home safe.”

James nodded. “I think that’s what any of us would want.”

Harry didn’t really know how to respond to that. He lifted his hand to wave, and received one in kind, and so he turned away. Behind him, James had turned his attention back to the lake.

How sad that young, blonde women were often lost here. The town ate them up like Easter candy. It was cruel and unfair, and James had been through this dialogue over and over so many times that he let it run in his head like an episode of a sitcom at midnight.

Behind all that noise, something else was itching in the crevices of his head. That man was important. Very important. The town was as excited to see him as much as it hated him. The fog thrummed with malicious energy. Silent Hill wanted to simultaneously swallow Harry whole and forcibly eject him. James could feel it all. He couldn’t know why it felt this way about Harry Mason. It was just so strong that he nearly felt vertigo when he stood up.

James began to walk in the opposite direction of where Harry departed. He was going to help him find his little girl. He didn’t like the way that Silent Hill changed when Harry arrived. He’d felt the shift immediately, and now understood what had caused it. He had to get him, and his daughter, out of this town.

Unfortunately for him, Heather hadn’t arrived yet.

But they didn’t need to know that.

pt 2//pt 3//pt 4//pt 5//pt 6//  series on AO3

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 23

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count: 1.9k

Four Days Later

“Try not to get your asses kicked fellas, you signed the waivers so anything that happens in there is not on us,” the guard said with a smirk on his face. “The new girl has been pretty feisty,”

Wade and Nathan shared a knowing look, they walked through the opening metal doors and into the newly repaired prison block of the icebox, some security measures as well as major structure changes had taken place since the two had last been here, having of course wrecked the place by blowing a giant hole in the side of it.

They entered the prison cafeteria to find a group of mutants cowering in a corner, leaving the so-called ‘feisty new girl’ to have the entire room to herself, they saw her sitting alone at one of the larger tables closer to the entrance which they were currently walking through.

Wade spoke to Nathan, “Last time I sat down at one of these tables I got stabbed with an ass pen, still the most gruesome injury I’ve had and I should know, I’ve tried to kill myself with bleach before,”

“Last time I was here I was ready to kill your stupid ass, if you’re not careful I might be tempted to do it again,”

“For the last time what was I supposed to do? She was way ahead of us, there was no way I’d have convinced her to do anything else,” Wade tried to defend himself, Nathan simply grunted and they both made their way to the table.

Wade sat himself opposite Hayden while Nathan sat at a slight distance on her side.

  “Hey Haydes,” Wade said softly, Nathan noticed that her eyes were glowing soft violet and that she was muttering to herself in Russian.

“Da?” she looked up and shook her head, “Sorry, hey.”

“I’ve seen you pretty nervous before, but nothing like this,” he added, urging her gently to talk more.

“Nervous? I’m getting agitated from being stuck in this shithole, I can’t sleep because it’s triggering nightmares, too many people thought they could try something with me, and worst of all I haven’t even got my music to block everything out,”

“Yeah, well, we’ve heard you’re ‘feisty’,” Nathan raised a teasing brow; she put her face in her hands.

“So you’ve made a few bitches already, Russel is going to be so jealous when I tell him,”

“God- just because some moron whispered what he wanted to do to me in my ear yesterday and I kicked him in the balls so hard that he passed out- doesn’t make me feisty,” she sighed.

  “And what did you do today?” Wade smirked.

“Ugh, I knew you’d ask that,” she groaned.

“So?”

“About an hour ago the bitch lying on the floor in the group over there,” she nodded her head in the direction of the mutants, “Tried groping my ass, so I broke her stupid jaw,”

“That’s the sis I know,” Wade grinned brightly and nudged her side playfully with his elbow, “By the way yellow is not your fucking colour, like at all,”

“I don’t intend to wear it for long, at least I’m hoping,” she then turned to Nathan, “Cable, did Wade make you his bitch while I was gone?”

“What the hell, no, of course not,” his eyes went wide and he shook his head immediately.

“You’re unusually quiet,” she commented, “And not in the stoic brooding kinda way either,”

“You’re unusually on edge, this whole thing is flipping our worlds around right now,” he said defensively followed by a shrug of his shoulders.

  “You know now that I think about it, this is definitely the table that Cable threw my weak-ass-dying-of-cancer body onto and made me a fucking quadriplegic,”

“Wade,”

“I’m serious Haydes, I was practically human spaghetti, except nobody wants to eat cancer,”

“You’re such a fucking mess,” Hayden chuckled and shook her head, Nathan smiled as he noticed her muscles loosen up a bit.

He was tempted to put his hand on her thigh and brush it gently with his thumb but he shook the thought away.

  Now is definitely not the time, especially with Wade around, it’s certainly not the place either. Get a hold of yourself man.

                              “Alright you two, time to go,” a guard announced suddenly from behind them.

“What, but we just go here-” Wade protested.

“I don’t care,” he interrupted with a rand raised, “The prisoners have to go back to their cells, so either skedaddle or join them,” he gestured with his thumb to the other prisoners who were being escorted out.

“Fine,” Wade huffed at they all stood, “Who the fuck even says ‘skedaddle’ anymore?” he shook his head and then he hugged Hayden tightly and she smiled and squeezed him, “Okay, Hayden ouchie, remember your own strength-”

“Oh right,” she let go, “Sorry,” she smiled and Wade walked through the door, she turned to Nathan who stood rather awkwardly. “Uh, we don’t have to hug, I’m sure you have boundries that you need to uphold,”

“No, no it’s not- uh,” he stepped closer to her but he felt himself fumbling over his actions as he raised his hand to prepare for a handshake.

They awkwardly shook hands, a definite awkward tension hanging in the air between them, and Nathan left as well, Wade was going red in the face from holding back his laughter, but he released it as soon as they were out of earshot of Hayden.

  “I can’t believe you shook her fucking hand- oh man you guys are so adorable you know that?” he wiped a happy tear from his eye, “I can’t imagine what the hug would have been like, oh- but I can and it’s pure gold,” he burst into another fit of laughter. “Ah, precious, young love.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nathan held back his tongue in case he sounded too defensive.

“Oh come on, you two are totally crushing on each other like high school kids, why can’t either of you see that? And you said it yourself you like listening to her and enjoy her company, that’s what it’s all about man,” Wade playfully swatted him in the chest.

“You’re not going to let this go are you, you jabbering butt plug,” he sighed as they walked out of the main entrance before giving him an exasperated look.

“Hell no,” Wade grinned wickedly as he stopped by Nathan’s side.

  I wish he was wrong but he’s not, I feel like I’m fifteen years younger and pining for someone who’s out of my league all over again. Note to self: Never let Wade find that out. I’ll never hear the end of it if I admit that he’s right about something.

                                                           * * *

  The Next Morning

Hayden had been taken from the Ice Box and was to see with the judge on the verdict of her case. She was relieved that they had finally finished reviewing the evidence she had given to them.

   Nathan and Wade sat anxiously in the court room, the judge announced that the jury had reached its verdict and it was a unanimous voting, the transport for Hayden was running late only agitating the men further. Nathan found that he was tapping his foot once again, his jaw clenching up and his eye beginning to spark as his anxiety grew.

   Hayden was told that they would arrive shortly at the court house, as the streets were overcrowded with people protesting and the van did not want to cause anyone accidental injury, she felt herself feeling suddenly nervous, it was rare that any good came from protestors.

   She entered the court room without handcuffs this time and sat in the seat she had just five days ago, she felt her heart throb in her throat and the mutterings all around her became a single hum that she couldn’t make out clearly.

Judge Tillman banged her gavel from her seat and the court room silenced immediately.

“I know the court has been waiting anxiously for the accused to arrive, but the verdict needs to be given in absolute silence,” she scanned her eyes across the room, “Jurors,” she turned her head to the stand that they were seated in, “What is your final verdict?”

“The final verdict your honour,” an elderly man stood and unfolded the envelope carefully, “Hayden Jones is found,” he cleared his throat to speak louder and clearer, “Not Guilty on the accounts of aggravated murder, first degree murder, and all other charges held against her,”

She felt her heart stop for a moment.

  Not Guilty? How is that even possible?

  The court dissolved into chaos but the judge soon silenced them with her gavel once more.

“The Jury has made their final verdict, there is nothing more to discuss. Whether your personal opinions on the matter differ will not matter in the decision that they have made, they were chosen with absolute certainty of having no personal affiliations with the case,” she rose from her seat and the rest of the court room did as well, “Court dismissed. Hayden Jones, you are free to return home,”

  Everyone except Wade, Colossus and Nathan, Hayden and the judge and jurors had already left the room by the time Hayden had the reality kick in for her.

She stared briefly at the judge before standing up from her seat and managing to speak, “Thank you, your Honour,”

“It wasn’t my decision,” Judge Tillman gave a small smile, “But it would have been, you’ve been through a lot for someone so young.”

“I meant thank you for giving me a fair trial, I thought for sure you’d give me a life sentence without a trial,”

“Just doing what’s right and fair,” she smiled again before leaving.

Hayden turned to look at the jurors who had remained behind, “Thank you,”

“No, thank you. You stood up for us,” a woman spoke, as Hayden raised a brow the woman exposed the small horns that were covered by her bushy hair.

“You gave us a voice and exposed them for their hatred towards us that they always lied about and covered up, you told the truth and risked your life for a cause that the generations before us have been fighting for, for so long,” a young man spoke this time.

  “Well as I’m sure you all know it was a bit of personal experience on my side,” she gave a small smile, “How many of you are mutants?” The eleven that stood in the stands all raised their hands.

“Son of a bitch,” Wade smirked, “I bet they didn’t even know,”

“Wait, there were twelve of you, where did-” Hayden paused as she saw a man’s figure disappear out of the back door, “Hey, wait!” she ran after him, he seemed awfully familiar. “Wait-” she stopped, almost paralysed suddenly, as she exited the door.

                          An enormous crowd had gathered outside the court house, her heart beat wildly and she saw camouflage as well as civilians all mixed together, they cheered instantly upon seeing her. Wade, Colossus and Nathan came out from behind her quietly.

“What in the ass?” Wade asked. “It was barely a handful when we arrived here earlier,”

“What are they all doing here?” she asked nervously.

“It appears that they are welcoming your freedom,” Colossus said encouragingly with a nod.

She scanned the crowds, her jaw slacking, the man had long disappeared from her mind and within the crowd, she noted signs bearing the words ‘Mutant Rights = Human Rights’ and ‘Mutant and Proud’ amongst the dozens of others. All bore a similar message of mutants wanting to be treated fairly and for Hayden to be released; she looked to the others before returning her gaze to her apparent supporting masses.

________________________________________________________________

>> Chapter 24 << 

[iknownothingihearnothing]

BoJack Horseman: 5.2 The Dog Days Are Over

Kay, we ended episode 5.1 with the Goldfish Ladies doin’ their thang in BoJack’s pool. Aside: if their water ballet team isn’t called the Goldfish Ladies, I’ma be disappoint. 

Fish Fridays have gotta be like The Purge for these ladies. 

We also left off, at the tail end of the episode, with Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter. He was dropping her off at her new, um, let’s just call it “not a mansion in the Hollywoo Hills” after a trip and giving her a set of signed divorce papers. 

“Take *that*, our marriage!” she joked awkwardly before leaving. 

So, Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter are friendly but awks around each other. As tends to happen when exes who’ve seen each other nekkid many, many times try to stay friends with each other.

The episode starts with Diane crying in her car, mascara running down her face. She is wearing an outfit that is very unDianeish and she has cut her hair short. AKA the post-breakup haircut all girls know and eventually come to regret.

As poor Diane is cryin’ her eyes out over her canine ex-husband, uh, this happens:

This couple must be transplants from the underwater land BoJack went to for the premiere of Secretariat in season 3. 

Still crying, Diane heads to the airport and asks to be taken as far away from Los Ageless as possible. She demands this of the airport attendant, who is an emu. 

After the title sequence, Diane lands in Vietnam, and as she is walking through Hanoi, dodging people and reptiles alike (look, conspiracy theorists! lizard people!), Stefani calls, salivating for fresh content. Diane, if you remember, is a contributer at the website Girl Croosh, which I guess is a site for, like, everything. 

She promises to write something up from there, the article of which becomes the Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Travel To Vietnam 

I, personally, do not have ancestral roots with Vietnam...as far as I know. I took one of those Ancestry DNA tests a few weeks ago and am waiting on the results. As far as I know I could be 15 percent Tongan, which would be awesome. 

I should visit Germany. Or Austria. Or Russia. Those I know I have roots to. Really close roots. Munich-y roots. My dad’s side of the family were from a valley near the Caucasus Mountains. I am literally Caucasian. 

Sometimes, I don’t know whether to interested in the rich history or saddened and embarrassed at how white that is.

In VO, Diane explains that her family wasn’t much help in explaining to her where they came from when she was growing up, or their family history. We are shown a flashback of pre-teen Diane inquiring to her dad about just this, but he is busy with baseball. Likely a Red Sox game. Or a Red Fox game. 

Furthermore, many of the stores and billboards bear her last name.

I know. Many people in Vietnam share surnames. One of my friend’s last name is Nguyen. 

Everybody she passes, Diane continues, look like her (except the flamingo in the  nón lá hat).But then a woman bumps into her and speaks Vietnamese to her and she has no idea what she’s saying.

At the gorgeous (cartoon) hotel, Diane checks in just as a gang of American filmmakers bust in; they are filming a movie in the hotel. It stars Laura Linney as a recently divorced woman who comes to Vietnam to find herself.

So much for escaping the LA life. 

Diane puts on the dress she bought and the rice paddy hat but she still feels like a tourist.

Speaking of tourist--

Cut to Diane in her usual clothes plus the rice paddy hat appearing to take a selfie in front of the Thien Mu Pagoda.Then everything zooms out.

Pretending to be somewhere more awesome than where you actually are to make other people jealous of you on social media? The hell you say, that never happens!

Diane eats her chicken in the park when Mr. Peanutbutter calls, and, in his usual Mr. Peanutbutter way, inquires as to why she left his party early. He was gonna ask earlier but he was distracted by Todd getting his tongue stuck to the ice sculpture. Todd’s tongue swelled up, and Mr. Peanutbutter had to interfere between him and a mob boss when Todd started talking to him all muffled, the mob boss thinking he was making fun of his deaf sister.

Ya, don’t blame the mob boss.

She makes up an excuse about having a plane to catch to Vietnam while Mr. Peanutbutter literally catches his newspaper in his mouth like a good boy and he promises to pick her up like a good boy/ex-hubby. He is also glad that he is not paying for her phone bills anymore because that international call is gonna be bazongers

Wah wah wahhhhhh as joke falls flat.

In flashback, a still longhaired Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter, recently separated, are celebrating how friendly their separation is by having a divorce dinner. Their waitress turns out to be an excitable young pug by the name of Pickles and I need to call my next dog that. Not fit for a pug, tho. Maybe a dachshund.

She and Mr. Peanutbutter seem to hit it off right away, much to Diane’s annoyance. They both like water! And food scraps! And are full of boundless energy! Amazing! Diane just wants to know if he’s signed the divorce papers yet. Then suggests a housewarming party to curb his loneliness. 

Back in the Bojackverse present, a family of American tourists dressed in American flag shirts and polos mistake Diane for a Vietnamese citizen and talk to her like she’s an idiot.

Yup yup yup. Reminds me of the tourist from California who carved her initials into the Roman Colosseum and then took a selfie.  

I can go a few streets over and meet new people, Diane!

This is a bad reason to travel to Vietnam, Diane!

The internet exists, Diane!

At the hotel bar, Diane meets one of the only other Americans staying there, a dude working on Laura Linney’s movie about the recently divorced woman going to Vietnam to find herself. He appears to be a bald eagle, but we do not know that he is indeed bald because he is wearing a hat. 

He is likely bald, tho. 

I mean, unless people start fake tanning and fist-pumping there. Then I’d feel right at home.

In flashback, Diane hangs a painting of the gorgeous Te Huc Bridge at the Hoàn Kiếm Lake in her crappy new apartment just as BoJack stops by. While helping her move, he, in true blunt BoJack fashion, informs her that this place is a shithole and invites her to stay at his place for a bit. She likes the shithole though. It may be a shithole, but it is her shithole.

At Girl Croosh HQ, Stefani is signing a contract outside of their be-tented building. It seems that the “cockroaches at IT tried to unionize” so Stefani called an exterminator--ahem, “negotiator”. The exterminators, natch, are flies. She also requires that listicle from Diane of 5 Empowering Roles For Women Over 40 Who Would’ve Been Better Played By Jennifer Lawrence. 

Somehow, I predict that role opposite that (now 58) year old actor Maggie Gyllenhaal didn’t get because she was told she was “too old” to play his love interest at the shocking age of 37 will go to JLaw. She’s, like, 28 now! That’s almost thirty!

Still in flashback, Diane’s trying to get work done in her shithole when a pipe leaks and a stray cat meows and someone burps. She shows up at BoJack’s door intoning “I’m a sad, sad girl with a dirty apartment” as was the phrase agreed upon she needed to utter if she ever needed a space. 

Diane finishes her article there and has a glass of wine with BoJack before going back to her shithole. But it turns into...

Keep saying it, Diane. Maybe if you utter it enough times, it’ll actually come true! like the Darling kids shouting “I can fly!” 

Diane mumbles drunkenly how weird it is that they are both single at the same time. BoJack knows why he thinks it’s weird, but why does she? It is just weird, they can totally make out and it’d be okay. But that is gross because he’s BoJack and he’s gross and she’s getting a divorce and allowed to be mean. Then, just as BoJack is ruminating on the last time Diane stayed in the guest room, when he went to New Mexico *andtotallydidnothookupwithateenager* she passes out on the couch in a drunken stupor.

In all my years of seeing therapists, not once has any of them advised me to fly to the capital of Vietnam. 

Diane’s therapist also gossips about the non celebrities she sees. Including Demi who had a first husband named Bruce and a second named Ashton. And a client named Angelina J., who does not think of herself as an actress anymore.

An actress, a director, a humanitarian, a savior of all mankind, all in a painfully obvious attempt to keep the spotlight on her. 

Yeah, I am not much of a Jolie fan.

Diane meets American Bald Eagle working on the Laura Linney movie at the bar and helps him order a drink. He thinks she’s a Vietnamese citizen. They walk through Hanoi’s market area, he tells her about his life in America, thinking she cannot understand a word he is saying, and she kisses him.

I have no bloody idea how you tongue a dude with a beak. There must be some particular angling involved.

American Bald Eagle takes her to Ha Long Bay...the set. It’s actually a backdrop for the Laura Linney movie. American Bald Eagle is the executive grip on the crew. He is Very Important. Or so he claims. But then, as they are perplexedly kissing again, a klieg light falls beside them and Diane curses. In English. 

The jig is up!

Diane tries to defend her actions but American Bald Eagle ain’t havin’ it. She’s the bad guy here! 

Diane is NOT having it, y’all.

Oooh, mic drop!

Number 9 reason to go to Vietnam:

She worries that this is similar to reason #5, which is Get Out Of Your Natural Habitat, but it’s whatever. Diane is getting divorced, she is owed a whatever.

In flashback, Diane has just chopped off her hair and she is wearing a kick jumpsuit looking all fly ready for her ex’s party but when BoJack arrives and compliments her she flies off the handle a bit, accusing him of trying to take advantage of her when she is vulnerable. He sighs and leaves, telling her that Mr. Peanutbutter will love her new hair.

At the party, Todd is wearing what he always is and eyes the ice swan greedily. Yes, he will lick it tonight. Oh, yes he will.

Oh, Todd. You are a delight.

Diane wanders into the library that used to be hers (her Belle-room) and bumps into Mr. Peanutbutter dressed in a tuxedo shirt and what look to be electric blue plastic pants. Carrying a dog bowl full of nachos.

Mr. Peanutbutter mumbles that she looks good. The new haircut really brings out her...neck. It is all really awkward and uncomfortable and Mr. Peanutbutter quickly finds an excuse to greet someone else.

PC hugs Diane and cries that she saw the whole thing; she will be her rock as long as it does not interfere with being Mr. Peanutbutter’s rock because they are both her friends and it also cannot interfere with her work, which is keeping her very bizzay.

There are a lot of heartbreakingly awkward moments in this episode. I kinda sympathize with PC, though. It’s always a fragile position to be in, being a friend of both parties in a divorce. There’s a fine line you have to tread. 

In the present, Diane gets on a plane in Hanoi and calls BoJack to apologize for how shook she’s been post-divorce. She really just needs a friend right now. Get that, BoJack? A friend. 

No more yanky your wanky, BoJack.

Or maybe do.

On the plane, none other than Laura Linney sits down beside Diane.

After she gets over her initial star struck reaction, Diane asks her how her movie ends. Does Laura find herself in Vietnam? Well, yes. Literally. She finds her clone sleeping with her ex. And they team up to take down the government.

Someone call Alex Jones!

But those, Diane says in VO, are not the real reasons to go to Vietnam. The real reason is because you see your ex-husband kissing someone else at a party.

Mr. Peanutbutter picks Diane up from the airport, we are shown the uncomfortable exchange from the first episode in his car, and just as she is about to leave with the signed divorce papers, Mr. PB admits that he is seeing someone. Who is not her. 

Flashback to the party. PC is still rambling on about being supportive while talking on her phone about work related stuffs when Diane spots her ex and Pickles through a window. She kisses him, and, at first, Diane waves it off as just Mr. PB being drunk. Then, the golden retriever and the pug kiss more thoroughly, and poor Diane is crushed.

There. You can fully see the shock and heartache in her eyes, rendered perfectly through simple animation. Another reason why I heart this show so much. 

Because even though she left him, even though she knows she made the right choice, it still frigging HURTS. Like shards of glass pricking her heart.

The heart is an unreasonable muscle.

Diane spends the next few frames drifting through her days. At her shithole apartment. At BoJack’s. On the plane. Even in Vietnam. In VO, she tells us she had hoped the vacation would give her some perspective, but it doesn’t. When she returns, she feels worse than ever.

And that is okay. It’s okay to ache. It’s okay to be confused. When your heart is crushed, nothing makes sense.

So, back in the present, Diane takes a deep breath, smiles a little, and says--

Wow, that was a great episode! I mean, they are all great, but this one was particularly awesome. Took FOREVER to cap, tho. I loved the artistry of the animated Vietnam, how beautiful Ha Long Bay and the Pagoda looked even rendered in animation. The attention to detail is exquisite. 

The emotions were so real. When our hearts ache, whether it be after a horrible break up or a divorce or any kind of tragedy in our lives, we tend to be erratic like Diane was in this episode. We lash out at our friends. We try to doll ourselves up when we know we’re going to see ex boyfriends or girlfriends. We feel as if we’ve been stabbed when we glimpse them moving on when we cannot. Sometimes, we take unplanned trips. Or some of us spend a lot in lieu. I could not take such a trip as Diane took after the worst breakup of my life because I was in the middle of a semester...so I spent money at the local mall. Everything I earned. My paycheck was GONE as soon as I got it. I think I spent over a grand in one month alone. 

We find ways to cope. And eventually, we start on the road to becoming okay again.