#the police guys in anxiety because they kept looking at me

[potatoeofwisdom]

Being a scared and small creature in public makes me look suspicious to cops apparently

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Jus In Bello | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: yay arrests, canon violence, canon gore, henriksen being lowkey bigoted, mentions of smut (MDNI, 18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6043

A/N: my american readers, i know we are all mourning this week. i hope that this brightens your day a bit. i love you all!

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Somewhere in Colorado, you and the Winchesters managed to track Bela down to a hotel. You rushed in with your gun stowed in your jacket and were surprised to find no one. Confused, you searched through drawers hoping to find the Colt instead. 

“Any sign of it?” Dean whispered commandingly. 

“No,” you replied. “This is definitely her room, though.” You held up three wigs from the dresser. 

Suddenly, the phone in the room rang. You shared a confused look with Sam and Dean. You picked the phone up trepidatiously, and didn’t say a word into it. 

“(Y/N)? Sweetie, are you there?”

“Bela,” you hissed. “Where are you?”

“Two states away by now.”

“Where?” you snarled. 

“Where’s our usual quippy banter? I miss it,” she sing-songed. 

“I want it back, Bela. Now.”

“Your little pistol, you mean?” she tsked. “Sorry, I can’t at the moment.”

“You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?” you argued. 

“What exactly is it that you think I plan to do with it?” she scoffed. 

“Uh, I don’t know, take our only weapon against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder?” you remarked. 

“You know nothing about me,” she replied bitingly. 

“I know I’ll stop you,” you said evenly. 

“Tough words for a gal who can’t even find me.”

“I’ll find you, I swear to god. Because I have absolutely nothing better to do than hunt you down and kill you,” you said. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re about to be quite occupied.” Her words had a sinking feeling forming in your stomach. “Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions?”

Suddenly, police officers burst into the room and pointed guns at you and the Winchesters. Immediately, you put your hands above your head and dropped the phone. 

“Hands in the air!” an officer shouted. “Down on your knees.”

“That bitch,” Dean growled from his position on the floor beside you. 

The officers forced you down onto the ground with your hands behind your back. When the officers repeated your Miranda rights, though, you noticed Bela had only given your first name. Thankfully, your full identity was still concealed. 

Though, that momentary relief quickly dissipated when you heard the voice of the man you’d spoken to on the phone of that bank in the shapeshifter case.

“Hi, guys,” Henriksen said. “It’s been a while.”

You watched Dean lay his head down on the floor beside you in defeat. 

***

Stoicism had always been your forte when it came to run-ins with the police. Dean, however, was as quippy and defensive as ever. You loved him more than anything, but that was definitely not going to work in your favor in this situation. 

Dean and Sam were shackled together and brought into the police station first. Meanwhile, one guard stayed with you in the police car. Unfortunately, you were frisked upon your arrest, and anything you had to help you get out of your cuffs were now unavailable to you. 

One other guard returned and led you into the police station. You cut your eyes at the secretary clutching a rosary and cowering in fear while she muttered what you assumed to be a prayer. You smirked at the irony of the situation. 

You were then thrown into the cell across from Sam and Dean; the only two cells in the entire station. You remained silent, not even talking to Sam and Dean. Your anxiety was quickly getting the better of you. No matter what escape plan you tried to think of, you knew it was a lost cause. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Dean called from across the hall. 

You kept your eyes at the ground. 

Then, the sound of footsteps you attributed to Henriksen approached. He stopped between the two cells, pacing around and addressing the three of you. “You know what I’m trying to decide?”

“I don’t know—”

‘Don’t do it, Dean,’ you thought. 

“What?” your partner continued to remark. “Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?”

“What to have for dinner tonight.” Henriksen clearly had no time for Dean’s comments today. “Steak or lobster, what the hell, surf and turf. I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you three in chains…”

“You kinky son of a bitch. We don’t swing that way,” Dean sneered. 

“Now, that’s funny.” 

“You know, I wouldn’t bust out the melted butter just yet,” Dean continued. “Couldn’t catch us at the bank, couldn’t keep us in that jail.”

“You’re right. Fucked up,” Henriksen nodded. “I underestimated you. I didn’t count on you being that smart, but now, I’m ready.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, ready to lose us again?”

“Ready like a court order to keep you in a supermaximum prison in Nevada till trial. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell, so that between you and me… probably unconstitutional.”

Your stomach flipped again at his words. 

“How’s that for ready?” Henriksen smiled. “Take a good look at Sam and— oh, nice to meet you, (Y/N)— you three will never see each other again.”

You felt like you could throw up. 

“Aw,” the officer mocked. “Where’s that smug smile, Dean? I want to see it.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You got the wrong guys.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry, Dean. Truth is, your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk, and no doubt, touched you in a bad place.”

‘Oh, fuck. C’mon, Dean, don’t do it,’ you silently begged. 

“That’s all. That’s reality,” Henriksen finished. 

“Why don’t you shut your mouth?” Dean spat through his teeth. 

“Well, guess what. Life sucks. Get a helmet. ‘Cause everybody’s got a sob story. But not everybody becomes a killer,” the officer pushed back. “And now I have three less to worry about. But what I’m curious about…” Henriksen turned to you. “What happened to you, (Y/N)? What’s your sob story?”

You stared up at him through your eyebrows angrily. 

“What, you met these two on the road somewhere? They convince you of this Satanist crap? Then what, you start givin’ it up to one of ‘em?”

“You shut your mouth now, Henriksen,” Dean roared. 

“Hmm,” the officer hummed. “I’m guessing it was Dean. I almost feel sorry for you. But I gotta tell you, that’s not your only issue, here. It took a while, but I figured you out. You an immigrant? ‘Cause you’re undocumented. Where you from? So I can send your ass back wherever you came from, and they can deal with you as they see fit.”

You still did not respond to him despite the rage and panic bubbling just below the surface. 

Henriksen seemed to get bored and look down at his watch. “Ah, well. It’s surf and turf time.” He laughed coldly and walked away from you. 

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked, reflex seeming to have him pulling on the chains attached to his brother to try and get to you. 

You nodded.

“So, this is how it ends, huh?” Dean tried to remark. 

“No, Dean,” you murmured quietly. “We’ll figure something out.” After the “Mystery Spot” ordeal, you just wanted to spend some time with Dean taking a quiet case or finding Bela. This was not how you would’ve chosen for his last three months to go. You couldn’t believe this was going to be your fate.

Your anxiety was quickly getting the better of you, and you wanted nothing more than to be in the cell with Sam and Dean just for some form of comfort. 

Instead, you were isolated from them. You were feeling more and more isolated from both Winchesters lately. Maybe not physically but mentally. Mentally, you were just living in fear of the day that Dean left you. You were scared of what you were going to become after his death, especially after what the trickster told you. 

A man entering the cells from the office area caught your attention. He closed the heavy door behind him. “Sam and Dean Winchester. And Ms. (Y/N). I’m Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure.”

“Well, glad one of us feels that way,” Dean sneered. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you three to come out of the woodwork.” Suddenly, Steven spun around and shot at you, hitting you in the left shoulder. You shrieked in pain. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean and Sam yelled. 

You fell back to the ground and scrambled around the cell trying to get away from the shots the man was firing. 

Sam must have realized the man was possessed and began the exorcism ritual, making Steven’s head whip from side to side. He stopped firing, thankfully. “Sorry, I've gotta cut this short. It’s gonna be a long night, fellas.” Then, the familiar black smoke shot out of Steven’s body, and the man screamed. 

Henriksen and two other officers burst through the door. 

“What the hell was that?” one officer asked. 

“Put the gun down!” another commanded.

“He shot him!” 

Sam froze, still holding the gun. “I didn’t shoot him, okay. I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“He shot me!” you squeaked pointing to the man on the ground. You rolled toward the cold cement floor holding your left shoulder with the opposite arm. 

“Get on your knees, now!” Henriksen ordered. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Sam mollified. “Don’t shoot. Please. Look. Here.” He passed the gun through the bars. “Look. We didn’t shoot him. Check the body. There’s no blood. We did not kill him. Go ahead, check him.”

One officer stooped to check Steven’s body. “Vic, there’s no bullet wound.”

“He’s probably been dead for months,” Dean explained. “What did you do to him?” Henriksen demanded. 

“We didn’t do anything,” Dean responded. 

“Talk or I shoot!”

“You won’t believe us.”

“He was possessed,” Sam began. 

“Possessed? Right,” the agent laughed coldly. “Fire up the chopper! We’re taking them out of here now.”

“Yeah! Do that!” Dean threw his hands up as best he could in his cuffs in exasperation. 

“Bill?” there was static on the other end of the radio in one officer’s hands. “Bill, are you there?” There was no answer. 

Henriksen nodded for the man to go check outside. 

The three other officers stood with their guns pointed at each of you. 

You continued to writhe, the bullet wound in your shoulder making the entire left side of your torso hurt, waves of heat emanating from the hole in both sides of your shoulder. 

“Could somebody help her for fuck’s sake?!” Dean grunted.

“They’re dead,” you heard the radio in an officer’s belt say. “I think they’re all dead.” His voice was cut off with a loud scream. 

Henriksen grabbed the radio. “What the hell was that? Reidy? Reidy?! Come in? Reidy? Reidy?”

Henriksen never got a response. He and the other officers left trying to help the one who was likely dead by now.

You started trying to shove the jacket around your body into your wound as best you could with the limited amount of fabric and range of motion due to the cuffs around your wrists. Then, you noticed a roll of toilet paper atop the metal toilet in the corner.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” Dean asked. 

You laughed through your pain as you crawled toward the toilet. 

“I know, I know, stupid question. I wanna come help you. I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault,” you hissed through your teeth, trying to keep pressure on the wound with the toilet paper. 

Then, the lights in the prison went off. 

Dean looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, that can’t be good.”

“Nope,” you groaned. “Fuck, man, what the fuck. What is wrong with our lives?”

Both brothers chuckled. 

Henriksen came back into the cell area. “What’s the plan? Kill everyone in the station, bust you three out?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean shot back. 

“I’m talking about your psycho friends. I’m talking about a blood bath,” Henriksen pressed. 

“Um, evidently, they’re not here to help us,” you groaned, motioning to the bullet wound in your shoulder. 

“She speaks,” Henriksen droned. 

“Look, you got to believe us,” Sam begged. “Everyone here is in terrible danger.”

“You think?”

“Why don’t you let us out of here so we can save your asses?” Dean begged. 

“From what? You gonna say ‘demons’?” He raised his gun, pointing it at the ceiling. “Don’t you dare say ‘demons’. Let me tell you something. You should be a lot more scared of me.” Then, he left. 

“How’s the shoulder?” Sam asked you. 

You took a pad of toilet paper with a large blood stain on it away from your shoulder. “I’ll live,” you shrugged. 

“Y’know, if we get out of here alive,” Dean added. 

“Right. So you got a plan?” you asked the brothers. 

Just then, you noticed the secretary peeking around a corner outside your cells. 

“Hey,” you said to her. 

Nancy backed off immediately, scared. 

“Hey, Nancy,” Dean said. “Look, my girl’s been shot real bad. Can you— Can you get her a towel, or something? Just one clean towel, okay?”

Nancy looked unsure. 

“Please, I’m beggin’ you here. Trust me, I don’t do that often,” Dean told her, trying to get her to open up a little. “Look. Look at us. We’re not the bad guys. I swear.” He gave her a smile, and Nancy shuffled away. 

You deflated. “Nice try,” you told Dean. “Thank you.” Your eyes sank to the ground, and then, movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

It was Nancy, who was back with a towel. 

“Thank you,” you smiled gratefully. 

“Thanks, Nancy,” said Dean. 

Nancy backed away from you when she’d given you your towel. Suddenly, Sam grabbed her from behind and pulled her against the bars. 

Nancy screamed, and an officer came in with a rifle.

“Let her go!” the officer demanded. “Let her go!”

Sam let Nancy go, and she left horrified. 

“You’re okay, Nance?” the officer asked her.

She nodded. 

The officer turned his attention back to Sam. “Try something again, get shot. And not in the arm.”

“Okay,” said Sam. 

“What the fuck was that?” Dean questioned, upset. 

Sam held up Nancy’s rosary. 

You snorted out a giggle. 

***

The towel was helpful, but not as helpful as some stitches, a clean bandage, and some antiseptic would be. 

“We’re like sitting ducks in here,” said Sam.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know. Would it kill these cops to bring us a snack?!” he shouted out his last words.

“Always thinkin’ with your stomach,” you snorted. 

Dean gave you a playful glare. 

“How many you figure are out there?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “But they could be possessing anyone. Anyone could just walk right in, and we’d have no idea.”

“It's kind of wild, right? I mean, it’s like they’re coming for us. They’ve never done that before.” Dean smiled suddenly. “It’s like we got a contract on us. Think it’s because we’re so awesome? I think it’s ‘cause we’re so awesome.” 

You and Sam rolled your eyes. 

A sheriff entered and unlocked your cell.

“Well, howdy, there, sheriff,” Dean said to the officer. 

You stood, immediately uncomfortable and alert. “Uh, sheriff?”

“It’s time to go, darlin’,” he said monotonously. 

You backed up into the cell. “Uh, I’m okay! I’m comfy right here. Thanks, though.”

Henriksen suddenly appeared. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re not just gonna sit around here and wait to die. We’re gonna make a run for it,” the man replied. 

“It’s safer here,” Henriksen pushed. 

“There’s a SWAT facility in Boulder.”

Henriksen stepped into your cell. “We’re not going anywhere.” Then, he shot the officer in the head. 

“Sam!” you yelled, and he tossed you Nancy’s rosary as you dodged a blow from the demon possessing Henriksen. You wrestled the gun away from him and threw it out of the cell. You scrambled to subdue the demon and dropped the rosary into the toilet. 

Between shouts from the brothers trying to break out of their cell and Henriksen grunting as you wrestled him, you got your cuffs around Henriksen’s neck and pulled hard. 

You knew it would hurt like a mother, but you flipped yourself over Henriksen’s head and pulled him to the ground with you where the holy-water toilet bowl was waiting. You shouted out an exorcism, continuously forcing his head into the bowl. You sat on his shoulders trying to use all your body weight to way the much stronger man down. 

“Hurry up!” you heard Dean yelling. 

“It’s too late. I already called them!” the demon told you between gasps as his head came out of the water. “They’re already coming.”

You shoved him back into the water and finished the exorcism. 

Henriksen screamed as black smoke shot out of his mouth and into the air vent in the ceiling. 

You got off the man’s back and sat down on the bed, panting. Henriksen had fallen to the floor. You then noticed the small crowd that had gathered around your open cell. 

“Is he… is he dead?” Nancy squeaked. 

Henriksen regained consciousness and coughed. “Henriksen! Hey,” called Sam. “Is that you in there?”

You got down to Henriksen’s level to give him a once-over. 

“I… I shot the sheriff,” Henriksen breathed out. 

You could feel Dean’s next quip coming. “But you didn't shoot the deputy.”

Despite yourself, you snorted out a laugh. You quickly regained your composure when you noticed Sam’s glare. 

“Five minutes ago, I was fine, and then…” 

You cut Henriksen off. “Black smoke? You were possessed.”

He looked up at you in disbelief. “Possessed, like… possessed?”

“That’s what it feels like. Now you know,” you shrugged. 

“I owe you the biggest “I told you so” ever.” Dean returned his gun to Henriksen. 

The agent stood and addressed the officer standing behind him that you’d just noticed. “Officer Amici. Keys.”

With said keys, he released you and the brothers from your cells and chains. 

Dean rushed to your side. 

“Alright, so how do we survive?” Henriksen looked between the three of you.

***

Dean insisted on patching you up. You insisted you could do it yourself, but Dean was just as stubborn as you were. Finally, you allowed him to work on you. 

Sam had drawn two devil’s traps on the floor of the station in the midst of Dean tending to you. The officer, whose name you learned was Phil, helped Henriksen prepare guns. 

Dean snorted at the guns. “Well, that’s nice. It’s not gonna do much good.”

“We got an arsenal here,” Phil replied. 

“It’s like using a BB gun on a T-Rex. That’s just gonna make them mad,” you informed them. 

“What do you need?” asked Henriksen. 

Dean smirked slightly. “Salt. Lots and lots of salt.”

Phil scoffed. “Salt?”

“What, is there an echo in here?”

“There’s road salt in the storeroom,” Nancy piped up from the corner. 

“Perfect. Perfect,” Dean sighed in relief. “We need salt at every window and every door.”

Henriksen and Phil left to go retrieve it. 

You hissed as Dean made a particularly rough jab at your arm with his stitching and grabbed his wrist. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

You stroked his wrist with your thumb briefly before dropping your hand. You turned to Nancy, who looked on silently. “How you holdin’ up, angel?”

“Okay,” she shrugged, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “When I was little, I would come home from the Church and start to talk about the devil. And my parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh?” 

You laughed softly. “Evangelical?” 

“Yeah, actually,” she replied. “I would ask if you are, but…” 

You laughed. “No. Raised Catholic, though.”

She made a sound of disapproval.

You laughed again. “Yeah, I’m not exactly crazy about it, either.”

Dean finished wrapping the bandage around your shoulder while you talked to Nancy. “Thank you,” you told your partner. 

He kissed your forehead as he stood from his chair. Phil returned at that moment. 

“Hey, where's my car?” asked Dean. 

“Impound lot out back,” Phil replied. 

Dean moved to leave. 

“Wait.” Phil stopped Dean. “You’re not going out there?”

“Yeah, I got to get something out of my trunk.”

You immediately stood to follow him. “I’m coming with you.”

“(Y/N), no,” Dean warned. 

“Dean,” you responded, leaving no room for argument. His gaze was intense, but you held it with equal ferocity. He was the first to look away, informing you that you’d won the argument. 

You smiled cheerfully and followed him out to the Impala. 

As soon as you were outside, Dean was angrily ranting. “I’m gonna fucking kill Bela, I swear.”

“Not if I kill her first.”

“I mean, she nearly got you fucking killed. Over a gun that means nothing to her. What the fuck is she playing at?” 

“Dean—” you tried to cut him off. 

“I swear to god, I’m gonna make it slow and painful.”

“Dean—”

“She’s gonna wish we got locked up in supermax,” he growled. 

“Dean—!”

“What?!” he asked, turning to face you. 

You were looking at him with such admiration, and his shoulders relaxed immediately as did his angry expression. “I love you,” you told him. 

Dean leaned down to kiss you fiercely in the middle of the impound lot, cupping your chin. You pulled yourself impossibly closer to him.

He pulled away from hungrily kissing you momentarily. “I would fuck you right now if I could.”

You laughed. “Demon hunting’s what does it for you?”

“Watching you demon hunt does it for me,” he said. “The way you held your own against Henriksen? Damn.”

You pulled his lips back down to yours but pulled away after a quick kiss. Dean’s lips chased yours, but you turned and started walking forward. 

“(Y/N),” he groaned.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you told Dean’s car as you approached it. You helped Dean pack his duffel bag with various weapons quickly until you caught sight of black smoke hurrying toward you. The lights in the lot flickered, and you smacked Dean’s arm frantically to get him to look. 

Dean immediately pulled you away from the car after shutting and locking it, and the two of you raced back to the station. 

As quickly as you could, you got back in the doors. “They’re coming!” you shouted, slamming the doors behind you and Dean. 

Black smoke hit the window beside Nancy, and she screamed. You grabbed Dean’s and Nancy’s hands and pulled them into the center office with Sam close behind. 

Dean tossed two sawed-off shotguns to you and Sam, and Henriksen looked between the three of you in admiration and confusion. 

Phil, Nancy, and Henriksen had salted the windows while Sam spray-painted devil’s traps on the floor. The building shook as the demons hit what you imagined was the invisible wall keeping them out. 

“Everybody okay?” Sam asked. 

“Define ‘okay’.” That was the first time you’d heard Henriksen’s voice tremble. 

“Alright, everybody needs to put these on,” ordered Dean, handing each person a protection necklace. “They’ll keep you from being possessed. There you go.”

“What about you guys?” Nancy asked.

You pulled down your jeans just enough to reveal the tattoo on your hip while Sam and Dean revealed theirs on their chests. 

“Smart. How long you had those?” Henriksen asked. 

“Not long enough,” Sam replied. 

***

You stayed in the office with Dean and Henriksen while Phil, Sam, and Nancy went to check the perimeter. Henriksen stared sadly at Melvin’s nameplate— the officer he’d killed— and your heart hurt for him. As much of a pain in your ass as Henriksen had been, he had a big heart. 

He then picked up one of the shells you were filling yours and Dean’s guns with. “Shotgun shells full of salt.”

“Whatever works,” Dean shrugged. 

“Fighting off monsters with condiments,” Henriksen said more to himself than you. “So. Turns out demons are real.” He took off his tie and began filling his own gun with the rocksalt shells. 

“FYI, ghosts are real too,” Dean noted. “So are werewolves, vampires, changelings, evil clowns that eat people.”

“Okay then,” the agent nodded. 

Dean smiled. “If it makes you feel better, Bigfoot’s a hoax.”

Henriksen snorted. “It doesn’t. How many demons?”

“Total?” you asked. “No idea. A whole lot, though.”

“You know what my job is?” Henriksen asked. 

“You mean besides locking up the good guys?” Dean smirked. “I have no idea.”

Henriksen began, “My job is boring; it’s frustrating. You work three years for one break, and then maybe you can save... a few people. Maybe. That’s the payoff. I’ve been busting my ass for fifteen years to nail a handful of guys, and all this while, there’s something off in the corner so big. So yeah… sign me up for that big, frosty mug of wasting my damn life.”

“You didn't know,” you told him.

“Now I do.” Henriksen looked thoughtful. “What’s out there? Can you guys beat it? Can you win?”

“Honestly? I think the world’s gonna end bloody,” Dean replied. “But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin’.”

“Plus, you got nothing to go home to but your brother.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dean replied, nodding at you. 

You smiled. 

“So I was right,” Henriksen nodded, smiling lopsidedly. 

“What about you? You rockin’ the white picket fence?” Dean asked Henriksen.

He shook his head. “Empty apartment, string of angry ex-wives.”

“Well, if there’s anything this one’s proven to me,” Dean nodded toward you again, “it’s that there’s someone for everybody.”

“Look at you getting sappy,” you said. “Imagine that.”

Dean smirked and clicked the barrel of the shotgun back into place. 

Suddenly, you heard a crash. You grabbed your gun and ran out into the lobby. 

A woman had broken in, but you couldn’t quite see who it was around Sam. 

“How do we kill her?” Henriksen asked, stepping up beside Sam.

“We don’t.” Sam lowered Henriksen’s rifle, informing you exactly who had gotten in. 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, god.”

“She’s a demon,” Henriksen replied, confused. 

“She’s here to help us,” Sam replied. 

“Are you kidding?” Phil piped up.

“Are you gonna let me out?” Ruby asked. 

Henriksen looked to you, confused. You just shook your head in exasperation.

Sam scratched the ground to let Ruby out of the devil’s trap. 

“And they say chivalry’s dead,” she remarked. “Does anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here.”

“Show off,” you murmured.

Dean smirked. 

Ruby walked past you into the main office, and you, Dean, and Henriksen followed closely. 

“How many are out there?’ you asked. 

“Thirty at least,” she replied. “That’s so far.”

“Oh, good,” Dean snarked. “Thirty! Thirty hit men, all gunning for us.”

“Who sent them?” you asked. 

Ruby looked to Sam, who stood in the doorway. “You didn’t tell them? Oh, I’m surprised.”

“Tell us what?” you asked, cutting your eyes at Sam.

“There’s a big new up and comer. Real pied piper,” she explained. 

“Who is he?” Dean questioned. 

“Not ‘he’. Her,” Ruby answered. “Her name is Lilith.”

You laughed, immediately recognizing the name. “Like, from Isaiah? That Lilith?”

Ruby nodded. “Look at you, sparky. You almost impress me. She really, really wants Sam’s intestines on a stick. ‘Cause she sees him as competition.”

Dean turned his attention to Sam. “You knew about this?” Sam didn’t answer.

“Well, gee, Sam. Is there anything else I should know?!” Dean roared. 

“How about the two of you talk about this later? We’ll need the Colt.”

“About that,” you said to Ruby. 

She looked at you in anticipation. “Where is the Colt?”

“It got stolen,” you admitted. 

“I’m sorry. I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands. Fantastic. This is just peachy.”

“Hey, look,” you said. “You’re not my mother. Spare me the reprimanding, okay?”

“Shut up,” she told you. “Fine. Since I don’t see that there’s any other option, there’s one other way I know to get you out of here alive.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked. 

“I know a spell. It’ll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. So, you let the Colt out of your sight, and now, I have to die. So next time, be more careful. How’s that for a dying wish?” she spat. 

“Okay, what do we need to do?” Dean asked. 

“Aw,” she tsked, “you can’t do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue.”

Dean nodded. “I got virtue.”

The demon snickered. “Nice try. You’re not a virgin.”

The older brother laughed. “Nobody’s a virgin.”

Ruby looked at Dean and then at Nancy. 

“No. No way. You’re kidding me, r— You’re…” Dean trailed off under your warning gaze. 

“What? It’s a choice, okay?” Nancy’s cheek blushed, and she looked down to her ballet flats. 

“So, y-you’ve never… Not even once? I mean not even – Wow.” “Dean!” you scolded, lightly smacking the back of his head. 

“So, this spell. What can I do?” Nancy smiled at Ruby.

“You can hold still,” Ruby replied, almost smirking, “while I cut your heart out of your chest.”

“What?!” the woman squeaked. 

“Are you crazy?!” you pushed back. 

“I’m offering a solution,” Ruby said in response. 

“You’re offering to kill somebody,” Dean argued. 

“And what do you think’s gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?”

Henriksen piped up. “We’re gonna protect her. That’s what.”

“Very noble,” Ruby scoffed. 

“Excuse me!” Nancy politely interjected. 

“Guys—” you tried, having heard Nancy trying to speak. 

“You’re all gonna die. Look. This is the only way,” Ruby continued, talking over you. 

“Would everybody please shut up?!” Nancy yelled. She turned her attention to Ruby. “All the people out there… will it save them?”

Ruby nodded. “It’ll blow the demons out of their bodies. So if their bodies are okay… yeah.”

Nancy paused thoughtfully. “I’ll do it.” The room erupted into a string of “hell, no”s.

“We don’t have a choice,” Ruby argued. 

“Yeah, well, your choice is not a choice,” Dean asserted. 

“Sam, you know I’m right,” Ruby tried, but the younger brother wouldn’t look at her. 

Dean smiled, thinking Sam would agree with him. “Sam? What the hell is going on?”

“Sam,” you urged. “C’mon, man.”

“It’s my decision,” Nancy tried. 

“Damn straight, cherry pie,” Ruby commented. 

“Stop! Stop! Nobody kill any virgins. Sam, I need to talk to you. (Y/N), you, too.” Dean led you and Sam out into the hallway. “Please tell me you’re not actually considering this. We’re talking about holding down a girl and cutting out her heart.”

“And we’re also talking about thirty people out there, Dean. Innocent people who are all gonna die, along with everyone in here,” Sam responded. 

“It doesn’t mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans. I’m not gonna let that demon kill some nice, sweet, innocent girl, who hasn’t even been laid. I mean, look, if that’s how you win wars, then I don’t want to win,” Dean stated. 

“Then what? What do we do, Dean?” Sam pushed. 

Dean turned away, and the wheels in your head turned. “Wait, I have an idea,” you announced. “It’s, uh, a stupid one, but it beats killing a virgin.”

“How stupid?” Sam asked. 

“Like, Dean-level stupid,” you answered. 

“I’m standing right here,” Dean said. 

“I’m kidding. You’re very smart when you wanna be.” You patted his shoulder softly.

“Okay, so, what’s the plan?” Sam questioned.

“Open the doors,” you said. “Let ‘em all in, and we go to town.”

***

You stood near the main entrance waiting for Dean to give the “all clear.” Ruby left moments ago through the doors you stood near, and it gave you a clear view of just how many demons lay ahead of you. 

Nancy and Phil waited on the roof with bags of salt to lock the demons in the station with you to carry out your fabulously idiotic plan. 

“All set?” Dean called to you. 

A string of “Ready!” came from you, Sam, and Henriksen. 

“Let’s do this,” called Dean. 

You broke the salt lines and devil’s trap protecting the doors in front of you. You threw the outside doors open, and suddenly, a demon appeared from above to kick his feet at you. You shot at the demon while you scrambled backward to try and scramble into the office. 

You stumbled toward the audio room, shooting shot after shot over your hurt shoulder. You met Henriksen inside, providing him cover while he waited for the symbol from Dean. 

Your shotgun clicked, having run out of shots, and you chuckled the gun at the snarling demon in front of you. 

“Henriksen, now!” Dean yelled, much to your relief. 

Henriksen turned it on while you wrestled with the demon in front of you, and the demon shoved you to the ground. He had your discarded shotgun pressed to your throat as the beginnings of the exorcism you had recorded played over the station’s radio system. 

The demons screamed horribly as your voice carried over the loudspeakers, and the demon above you rolled off, allowing you to breathe once more. As the exorcism finished, you struggled to get to your feet. You checked on Henriksen behind you, who’d also had a tussle with a demon, and he sighed in relief. 

You stumbled out of the audio room with Henriksen in tow, and you found the boys making their way out of the office.

After stepping over the collapsed, formerly possessed people scattered across the floor, Dean tucked you into his side as you took in the scene around you. You wiped blood off your lip and laughed in relief. You put your arm around Sam, and the three of you stayed there silently for a moment. 

***

You bid goodbye to Henriksen, Nancy, and Phil, and the FBI agent had said he’d kill you, Dean, and Sam in his report back to the Bureau. Despite how rocky your relationship with the man had been, you were grateful for the way it’d ended. 

Now, in your motel room, you packed up, and Ruby appeared at the door. 

“Turn on the news,” she ordered, walking into the room. 

You did so.

“The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff, including sheriff Melvin Dodd, deputy Phil Amici, and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents, identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen.”

Your hand flew to your mouth in horror.

“Three fugitives in custody were also killed. We’ll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim.”

Ruby turned off the television and looked at the three of you with an “I-told-you-so” look.

“Fuck you, Ruby,” you huffed. 

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” she responded. 

“Must’ve happened right after we left,” said Sam. 

Ruby tossed hex bags to you and the brothers. “Considering the size of the blast, smart money’s on Lilith.”

“What’s in these?” you asked.

“Something that’ll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail… for the time being, at least.”

You nodded to her in thanks, and Sam thanked her audibly. 

“Don’t thank me,” she scoffed. “Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin, plus a half a dozen other people. So after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out, your plan was the one with the body count. Do you know how to run a battle? You strike fast, and you don’t leave any survivors. So no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time, we go with my plan.” With that, she left. 

Your head dropped in exasperation, and Dean reached over to grab your hand. He squeezed tightly, and you and the Winchesters sat in silence for a long while. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[malarign]

can you please come over?

(calling him in the middle of the night because you’re scared)

contains: bff!Jake x gn!reader | genre: angst (?), fluff | tw! crying, the reader is being followed (stay safe guys) | wc: 0,5k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

Hurriedly you ran to your front door, knuckles white from the strong grip on your keys. Stress flooded your body when you couldn’t open the door immediately, looking back you saw a stranger man on the other side of the hallway. You’ve never had any experience with stalking and anxiety took over your whole body and mind. You never thought something like that would happen after all those nights you worked till late night hours and came back home by taking night buses.

You managed to open the door and close them behind you just in time. You leaned your back on the wooden surface and felt how he banged on your door, soon hearing a few curses from the man. With shaky hands and blurred vision, you dialed the first number you thought about.

“Please answer, Jake please,” you spoke to yourself under your breath as the banging grew stronger making your head hurt.

Soon he answered with a slightly raspy voice as if he had just woken up. “Hope you have a good reason to wake me up in the middle of the night, Y/n,” he spoke half-seriously, half-jokingly. But his smile dropped as soon as he heard you, voice full of distress, cracking every once in a while.

“Jake, can you please come over?” you whispered and heard how he kept on the hop.

“I’m already on my way, I’ll be at your place in 5.” Your heart calmed down only to feel anxious caused by another series of stranger’s kicks on your door.

You cried silently and covered your mouth to not let any sound get out of your lips. Phone still in your hand you noticed he didn’t hang up.

“It’ll be okay, Y/n. I’m almost there,” he reassured you, voice faint from the distance between you and your phone. You just nodded your head slowly as if he could see you.

His voice rang in your head loud and clearly, you didn’t even notice when the man left.

“Y/n I’m outside.” You heard Jake’s voice both in your phone and echoing in the hallway.

You opened your door with a swing and fell straight into his embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” he said slowly tracing soft patterns on your back.

He closed the door behind him swiftly and engulfed you in an even more comforting hug. He waited patiently for you to calm down, patting your head continuously. Once he heard your breath stabilize, he pulled out and looked straight into your eyes. That’s when you noticed his attire, as if he just jumped out of bed, hair still messy, shoelaces not bothered to be tied up.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked softly.

You wiped your tears and took a long breath. “I was coming back home when I realized that some man was following me, so I ran but he ran after me, and then followed me even here, and then banged on my door,” you spoke incoherently.

“Wait, wait. What? Y/n you need to call the police, who knows what he wanted to do?” Jake said reasonably.

“Can you just hold me a bit longer? Please?” you whispered the last word, feeling how tears brimmed in your eyes again.

He didn’t answer and just did as you pleased. Holding you firmly in his arms, just like he wanted to say: “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you”.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

[sunflower-author]

I Win (Yandere Todoroki)

Basically yandere Todoroki after the fact that he had kidnapped you, and one day you guys have a fight, and then the aftermath...

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^

"Listen, Y/N, I am getting sick, of you always being so ungrateful, towards me," Todoroki almost yelled out. Stepping back a little, this was the first time he had ever come this close to yelling at me, feeling all the panic and anxiety rise up in me.

I am really starting to regret almost hitting him, I mean I had my hand up until I realized what I was about to do I stopped, but Todoroki was more mainly focused on what I was about to do rather than what I really did. So right now he is mad at me because I almost hit him.

"Do you know how lucky you are for me to care about you so-......" Todoroki said almost yelling again, but this time stopping in the middle of his sentence, it was weird, it was like he was about to say something but got distracted by something.

Pausing a second for myself, I wonder what is Todoroki thinking right now, all I know is that it can't be good. Seeing him and the paused expression on his face, he starts to smirk a little. I already don't like where this is going.

"Let's play a game actually, a game where if you win then you are free to leave, and call the police on me, I bet you would love that wouldn't you," Todoroki says walking closer to me, with that smirk of his starting to fade. Stepping back, listening carefully to what he is saying.

"What will you get if you win?" I ask him, getting backed up by the wall. "Does that really matter, I mean you'll get what you've always wanted," He said, pinning me against the wall. Only inches are separating us, and even with all the tension between us I still, manage to do some kind of glare at him.

"But if you'd really like to know, if I win, then you'd have to do what I want you to do for a whole day without any of your complaining, but if you do complain... well, I guess, you'll have to say goodbye to one of your dear friends," he said, with a small smile on him now, grabbing the top of my shoulder...weird.

"What even is the 'little game' you want me to play?" I ask him, with a little irritation in my voice. "Well since you really want to escape so bad, I'll let you," He says stepping back. "What do you mean? What is this game?" I ask, puzzled.

"If you can escape from me, and not get caught, in the time span of 6 hours, I let you free, but however, if I am able to catch you within that time, I win, it's as simple as that," He says, plainly.

"If you do accept, I'll give you a 15 min head start," He says. "How will I know if the 6 hours pass, and you say you win," I say. "Here," He says, holding up a yellow watch. "This watch has a timer on it, so you'll know just how much time you have left," He says, putting it on my wrist.

"So is that yes, to this game?" He asks me. "...Yes," I respond, hesitantly. "Once I start this timer run, okay," He says, finishing up putting the watch on my wrist.

"3....... 2......... 1, "He says, starting the timer. Just like that, I start running to the nearest exit outside. Fortunately, for the last time, I tried to escape, I know exactly know where to go from here.

Seeing the door, I look at the watch, it has already been 9 minutes, and I need to hurry up. Opening the door, it is cold, I see snow on the ground, and the sun is up, Winter must have just passed. Todoroki definitely has the upper hand now.

I just start running off in any direction that is away from this house. I just need to stay away from him for 6 hours, which is going to be hard, considering that whenever I tried to escape, he always found me within 5 hours.

5 hours Later:

I have been running away from Todorki for a straight 5 hours, I just feel so exhausted, considering I never really ran in like forever, being kept up in that house for so long, it feels nice, but draining at the same time. Plus it is not really helping, that it is freezing cold and I am only wearing long sleeves and sweatpants.

Right now I am currently in some kind of forest, the ground is mostly made out of small rocks, and dirt, some big rocks around everywhere. The pine trees are small with some cut-down weird. Suddenly I make a stop, as I see there are 2 different paths in front of me.

The first is like the one, I am walking right now, but with more dirt than rocks, with a little bit more trees, that are bigger than the one behind me. The second one goes uphill, I think, and from what I can tell has a little snow...

If I go the first way I will be able to run faster and get away, but Todoroki will expect me to go this way. But if I go the other way then Todoroki won't be expecting it, so will hopefully go the other way.

Plus the snow is in patches right now, so I can take some time to avoid it, by running on the rocks and dirt, but it is safer going the first way because he does follow me to the second path he will definitely have the upper hand...

Fuck it, I turn to run the way with the patches of snow, running far enough from the two-way path, I step on one of the patches, it is icey, like shaved ice. Continuing my path, I see that now it is all filled with 'snow' and ice.

Todoroki Pov:

Following Y/N's path is really easy, I mean, when they left the house they left the door open, and judging by their sense of character it's pretty obvious that they would go straight. But following the path, I am stuck, there are 2 different paths.

Knowing Y/N, they'll probably play it safe, and take the path with no ice, but before I make my move, I check the tracking device, to see if they actually went the other way... strange, normally they would have more self-doubt, and take the safe path. They must really be desperate.

Anyway walking in a straight path, now knowing I will probably catch up to them now that they will be avoiding all the snow, taking up time, even though I have less than an hour, I know for a fact I will catch up to them. Plus I just can't let my little snowflake go that easily.

Y/N Pov:

Only 10 mins left, I think that I might actually be able to escape from him, even though I am still slowly going up this hill of ice and snow, I am still making progress.

"Snowflake~" Shit, I don't even need to turn back to know who it is. Trying to rush as much as possible, is hard, without slipping.

"Did you really think that you'd be able to escape me?" Looking back at my watch, only 1 minute left. He might not make it.

Suddenly, I feel the ice starting to move... Shit. It's starting to become a slope, trying to stay up for as long as possible, but it doesn't last long. Slipping and sliding down, seeing Todoroki at the bottom, I already know I lost.

Closing my eyes, preparing myself for whatever impact might come to me. Surprisingly it wasn't too bad but still had an impact. Opening my eyes, seeing that I landed in a pile of snow, with Todoroki right in front of me.

Feeling him grab my arm. "I win," He says, pulling me out of the pile of snow, and right on cue, I hear the timer go off.....

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Six / Part Seven (YOU ARE HERE) / Part Eight

A03

If the odd, small sounding Steve had been a weird pill to swallow, then the loudly swearing, furious one might as well have been a different person.

Worse?

He wanted Gareth and Eddie to stay behind.

“You are not going to the lab by yourself.” Eddie deadpanned, blocking the door while Steve acted like an agitated snake in front of it.

“You don’t understand.” Steve hissed, weaving back and forth on his feet, like he was trying to find a way out without bowling Eddie over.

Or breaking a window.

“Then help us understand!” Eddie shot back, throwing his hands up. 

Which was just the crux of the issue--because Steve seemed fine to talk about the lab being a horrible place, but kept refusing to answer why.

“You don’t have to tell us the full thing man, but give us something.” Gareth pleaded, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as he felt.

Not his fault Steve was setting off his own anxiety.

The jock stepped back, running a hand through his hair and making a mess of it.

"I don't have the time." He stressed, anger, worry and pure fear mixing together in his tone.

In a mutter he added; "You wouldn't believe me anyways."

Tentatively, Gareth reached out, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

For the first time since they’d known each other, Steve didn’t react to being touched.

"Eddie and I are gonna go no matter what. So you can either give us a heads up now, or you can be mad at us later when we just follow you anyway.” Gareth said, a hell of a lot calmer than he felt.

Steve had turned partly to glare at him, but seemed to at least let the words sink in. To get through that no, really, they were going, and all this arguing was just wasting time. 

Not that Gareth trusted it. 

"I don't want you guys getting hurt." Steve burst out, and it looked like it cost him to admit even that much.

Like it was inevitable and all this was a Hail Mary attempt to keep them from that future.

Eddie seemed to pick up on it too, because he caught Steve's gaze and held it. "You're a part of Hellfire now. If you were in that lab, we'd be all coming for you. Not one of us--all of us.”

He followed it up by invading Steve’s space, jamming a finger into the jock's chest.

“I don’t know why you think we’d be okay with you getting hurt." Eddie stared hard at him, voice as serious as Gareth had ever heard it. “You’re our friend, too Steve. We’re not abandoning Tiff and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang, and we're also not letting you do something that has you this freaked out, alone.”

Which is what this all seemed to keep coming down to. How Steve was willing to throw himself at problems, how he kept wanting to handle his own issues, while trying to manage everyone else so that he was the only target.

The only person in the know, the only one in the line of fire. 

Like he was a burden instead of a person. 

Gareth kept wondering how the hell that had happened. If this had been anyone else he would have written it off as some macho bullshit, but Steve wasn't like that. He'd didn't need to be the one white knight. 

The fear he spoke with had always been too real, for that. 

It wasn't like they--or at least, Eddie and himself, hadn't picked up that something was happening, either. Something big. 

Given the weird, hushed conversations Steve kept have with Nancy, and Jonathan and even the kids sometimes…

Once, just once, Gareth had seen Steve talk to the Chief of Police. The asshole had looked awkward as hell, giving Steve a few pats to his shoulder, and Steve looking equally as awkward, leaning into it--but they looked like two people who'd gone through the same shit and now were stuck together. Not a police officer giving a warning to a teenager. Not even a family friend catching up. 

Something was up in Hawkins and now wasn't the time to dog Steve about it, but Gareth still wished he'd give them a hint. 

A tidbit, a morsel, of what the fuck had him so riled up.

“And if all this means our friends are in danger, then we're absolutely going too.” Eddie continued, nearly nose to nose with Steve.

Steve put his hands on his hips, frustration written all over his face--but he didn’t step away. "I don't think you'd be okay with it, it's just-- I'm just--already involved! This is how it’s been."

As if that wasn’t fucking alarming.

"And now, so are we.” Eddie threw back, pointing at the phone. "It’d help if you at least told us what to watch out for, but if not then we need to stop arguing so we can go help.”

That definitely got through.

Steve tapped a foot, blowing out a breath and overall acted as if Gareth and Eddie were the ones being unreasonable here.

(Or a pissed off single mother of six, not that Gareth was voicing that image.)

"Fine." He snapped finally, pinching the bridge of his nose and backing away from Eddie. “Fine! But you listen to me when we get out there, and if I tell you two to run, I need you to trust me and run.”

A grin tried to blast across Eddie’s face, the smug one he wore when he won and he knew it, but he covered it up before Steve saw.

Gareth doubted it’d take much to slide Steve right back into trying to keep them at the trailer, or straight up pull some dirty ass move to force it.

(He belatedly wondered if he should worry about Steve trying to stab one of Eddie’s tires out, but didn’t think the older teen would go that far.

Not yet, anyway.)

"I wasn't kidding when I said you wouldn't believe me." Steve spoke over his shoulder, blowing through the door the second Eddie got out of the way, marching down the steps to his Beemer. "But let’s just say that lab did a lot worse than create shit like rabid dogs, and a few of their creations might still be there. Grab a weapon!"

“I thought there wasn’t any rabid dogs!” Gareth protested at the same time Eddie said;

"So the cops can get us on felony charges? What is trespassing not enough for you?"

Eddie shook his head, following Steve down to the gravel. "No thanks, man!"

“I never said their weren't rabid dogs at all, I said--wait, who told you that?” Steve asked, trying to turn and face Gareth but Eddie simply pushed him forward, kept him moving.

“They’ve waited for us long enough.” He whispered lowly, as Gareth scrambled about for something to use.

Managed to fetch the fire poker he knew Wayne kept around to scare away coyotes, or rival drug dealers, or anything else wandering about.

If Steve said bring a weapon, he'd bring a damn weapon.

Felony charges or not.

"The cops won't charge us. Not as long as Hopper’s the one who gets there first.” Steve said and the desperation in his voice had faded a little, revealing something hard and self-assured underneath.

Not cocky, but with the strength Hellfire had when approaching a boss or baddie they had conquered once before and were familiar with. 

"And if El's involved? He will get there first." Steve said firmly, whipping the backdoor of his car open and yanking a bag out.

A bag that had muffled squawking coming out of it.

Steve snatched a walkie talkie out from it, interrupting a stream of high pitched, upset nonsense coming out the tinny speakers.

Gareth caught someone half asking, half yelling if "-literally anyone could pick up!" before Steve hit the talk button.

"What's happening!?" He demanded, as he slammed the car door and stormed to the trunk.

"Steve!" Several voices yelled at once, the speakers shrieking in static feedback.

One beat out the others, as its owner screeched into the walkie in a tone that only children under fourteen and small dogs seemed to be capable of. "Where the hell have you been!? We called a code red an hour ago!"

"Bitch later Henderson, explain now." Steve commanded, picking out a bat with fucking house nails hammered into it.

Several of which were stained a rusted, blood-red.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Steve with his mouth ajar as the nails gleamed lazily in his porchlights. 

Gareth couldn't blame him; his own heart had just picked up speed.

Steve gave the bat two experimental twirls, flipping it easily in his hand, before he seemed satisfied. Both the weapon and the movement worked together, elevating Steve into something straight out of the fantasy novels Hellfire traded around.

Like a fucking paladin come to life.

Gareth felt his breath hitch at the way it highlighted the guy's biceps, already on display since Steve had shoved his sleeves up. The movement was so smooth and well practiced that it was clear this was his weapon of choice--and that he’d definitely used it before.

Gareth wasn't even attracted to Steve Harrington, but one couldn't be blamed for having eyes.

"Mike insisted he saw lights on at the lab, and Will thought he might have felt something--" Henderson started, before being abruptly interrupted by someone on his end.

"He did feel something, Dustin!"

"Shut up, I'm talking to Steve!”

"Stop arguing and give me the short version. You're all in the lab?" Steve cut in.

‘It should be illegal to sound that annoyed while moving like that.’ Gareth thought idly, as Steve dropped the bat to the ground, then propped it up against his car.

He waved Eddie and Gareth over, one hand going to cover the walkie talkie’s speakers as it spat static. ‘Pick one.’ He mouthed, in the exact same way Gareth’s mom did when she was trying to talk to him and someone on the phone at the same time.

With a short glance at each other, they went.

"--we got to the lab and El and Max were already here--" Dustin tried again, and once again was talked over, making the conversation extremely hard to follow.

Kids, God.

"-You told us to meet you here-"

"-and there were these older kids running around-'

"-excuse you, tiny bratling, we are not kids-"

"Was that Grant?" Gareth found himself asking, as Steve waved a hand above his open trunk distractedly, like a vendor showing off wares.

Except instead of trinkets, it held a gun, a knife and a fucking candlestick.

The latter of which sported another suspicious red stain.

There was a second explosion of noise, and what sounded like multiple walkie's being fought over before a young, female voice came on, its owner having apparently won the tug of war.

"The idiots thought they saw something but it turned out to just be some teenagers breaking into the lab for fun." She scoffed, and sounded suspiciously like a Tiff Jr.

It took a second, but Gareth finally placed the voice to the redheaded girl--the one who rolled her eyes a lot.

"The wall and part of the floor collapsed, some guy fell through a hole into a locked room and El thinks the collapse wasn't an accident." The words were spoken rapid fire, like a front line soldier relaying information. "She and Will both feel something."

Eddie picked up the knife while Gareth simply held up his fire poker.

Steve nodded to them, and closed the trunk.

"Can you all get out of there safely?" He asked.

"El thinks if we leave, the--thing here will attack the guy that's stuck."

'Thing' Gareth mouthed to himself.

Not a person.

Not a dog, or bear, or--anything else.

A thing.

"Fuck." Steve spat, taking his hand off the talk button so no one on the other side heard.

"She and Will aren't sure what it is yet but they're thinking it's from the Upside Down."

After a brief pause wherein someone could be heard shouting in the distance, she sarcastically added; "Honestly I'm happy to leave the guy that's stuck here, he's really annoying--"

"No sacrificing Stewart!" Steve snapped instantly, and despite all the swearing and dramatics, having contact with the kids seemed to ease something in him.

His movements were no longer frantic, back and shoulders looser.

Even the way he talked seemed to unclench, like he'd been told the worst had come and now that it was finally here, he could deal with it.

"If you're sure, because I'm pretty sure Billy is gonna start looking for me soon." Max argued.

Steve groaned. "I'll handle him if he shows up."

For the first time since Steve had picked up the walkie, silence descended.

Gareth wasn't exactly an expert in such things, but it felt judgmental.

"Are you gonna handle it like the last time you handled it? Cause we don't have anything to knock him out with and I don't know if your head can--"

"Thank you Max, but I can deal with him." Steve cut in immediately, face flaming and yeah, they were definitely out of whatever protective crazy mode Steve had started off in. "This time I have my bat and backup. So unless your brother has taken to carrying stacks of plates around, I think I'll be fine!"

"Step brother." Max corrected immediately, huffing.

Then in a slightly quieter voice, she added: "Hey Steve? Get here fast."

"I'm coming. Steve over and out." He said firmly, like an older brother reassuring a younger sibling.

How the hell the guy had ever managed to appear like a heartless asshole was beyond Gareth.

Apparently it was beyond Eddie too because the guy was practically drooling with heart eyes in Steve's direction.

The kids signed off, before quiet, blessedly descended.

"Can I ask one question?" Gareth asked, as Steve cursed at the finally silent walkie talkie.

Steve stopped, entire chest heaving in a sigh.

"Yeah, one." He said, as though even that cost him a lot.

Out of the corner of his eye Gareth watched Eddie shake himself to awareness, and then try to flip the knife with the same move Steve used on the bat's handle.

He fumbled it immediately, chasing the blade as it clattered to the ground.

"Why a candlestick?" Gareth asked quickly, before Steve turned and witnessed Eddie's awkward, scrambling retrieval.

"Jonathan tends to grab the weirdest shit as a weapon." Steve responded. "He's used a trophy, multiple chairs, a lamp," he made an etc. all gesture, as if any of that actually explained things instead of causing about ten more questions.

"The candlestick actually worked pretty well so I kept it." He finished.

"Jonathan Byers?" Eddie said, holding the knife once more and clearly pretending he'd never tried to copy Steve. "How very Cluedo of him."

Steve frowned, nose scrunching in confusion. "Cluedo?"

"He means the game Clue. It's called Cluedo in Europe, Eddie's just a tabletop snob." Gareth rambled anxiously, because throwing Jonathan Byers wielding a candlestick into the mix was just the icing on top of the weird cake.

Part of him wondered if it would be rude if he asked Steve to spin the bat again, while the other part vaguely wondered if any of this was actually happening.

Maybe Eddie had accidentally laced the pot with a hallucinogenic.

(Frankly he wasn't sure how he'd have missed the addition of extra drugs, but hey; you couldn't say that made any more sense than Steve Harrington, small town golden boy, parading around with a fucking bat with nails in it, using a walkie talkie to speak to children about how a thing might try to attack one of their friends.)

The kid’s involvement at least, made a little bit of sense.

They were young but they weren't that young--and they also weren't as quiet as they thought they were.

Particularly not when they were riled up at the arcade.

Gareth knew the lot of them thought one of the girls had superpowers. He also knew they often pretended Will Byers, the kid who'd gone missing, had spent some time acting as a "spy" for whatever evil they all pretended to be battling.

He'd mostly assumed it was a D&D-slash- LARP kind of thing, or even just traumatized kids playing pretend to cope with what had happened, but now?

"I might have lied about just having one question." Gareth admitted as Steve picked up his bat.

"I'll explain some of it later, after we get them out." Steve said, as if Gareth might actually trust him to do so after doing his damndest to dodge giving an explanation. 

"Lead on, Sir Harrington." Eddie said before Gareth could say just that, like the lovestruck idiot he was. "We're going to need both cars to carry our wayward friends home, so Gareth and I will follow your lead."

Eddie spun his keys around his fingers, and given the smirk on his face, Gareth would bet money he was hoping it looked as cool as Steve's bat handling.

It didn't.

"Provided you promise to try not to lose us, because I've lived here all my life, I know where the lab is." He finished, and somehow managed to make the words sound fun and not the blatant warning it was.

Steve nodded once, hard. "Alright. Stay close to my car, and flash your high beams twice if you run into any problems--or see like, people in suites."

"People in suites?" Eddie asked, the knife still clutched awkwardly in his hand.

"Government agent kinda dudes, they're easy to spot." Steve said, like he was cautioning them to look out for deer darting across the road. "They usually look like they shouldn't be wherever they are."

"Alright." Gareth said, before his brain could come up with a list of questions regarding that.

Steve slung himself into the front seat of his car, Gareth claiming shotgun in Eddie's van shortly thereafter.

They waited to let Steve out first, and then stayed right on his tail as Steve promptly broke multiple laws to get to the lab.

"So this is all ominous as hell, right?" Eddie said, metal music pouring from the vans speakers and eyes on the taillights of the beamer.

"Oh dude, incredibly ominous. There was blood on that candlestick. " Gareth said, still in disbelief.

Whose candlestick had that even belonged to, originally? At what point in all this had Steve decided to hammer nails into a baseball bat?

Nevermind the weapon he was trying not to think about in the trunk of Steve’s car.

The gun.

Gareth knew instinctively why neither of them had gone for it. Eddie's father had drilled into him that the extra charge for carrying was never worth it and Gareth's own father had a firm "if you point it then you might as well have used it" mentality.

Steve didn't look like the kind of person to handle killing someone well himself, and yet the gun remained, locked up in the back of his trunk.

An option he'd offered to both Eddie and Gareth without bothering to fully fill them in.

"Blood on the bat too." Eddie said, dragging Gareth's attention back to the present.

Which at least, gave Gareth an opening for familiar ground. "I'm surprised you noticed that, given you looked like you lost all the blood in your head when he started swinging it around."

"Shut up." Eddie grumped, and though normally Gareth would tease him more, he found he just...couldn't. 

Not right now.

"I'm more worried that they all kept calling whatever the thing was…well. A thing." He said, because God was it bothering him. “I mean I guess it could be an animal still but the way they were talking about it…” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

"Personally I'm hoping for monsters." Eddie said.

Gareth turned to shoot him a look. "Seriously Ed’s?"

"Mmm. Because if it's not monsters Gareth, it's humans," Eddie tapped the steering wheel in time with Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls. "and humans scare me more than anything."

 Gareth leaned back, letting the seat absorb him, his own eyes sticking to the back of Steve's head. "I guess." 

Not that he wanted to deal with either.

Best case scenario in all this?

Everyone got out safely, and they drilled Steve into what the hell had happened to him, later.

Not that life was ever that simple.

xXx

Tiff met them outside the lab.

The place was desolate. Abandoned with the kind of tell-tale signs that boldly stated something awful had happened there.

Papers and a chair were still left in the guard shack and a phone dangling off the hook completing the look. The lab itself was dotted with broken windows, the corresponding shattered glass glittering all over the ground.

All it was missing was some lightning and it would be a great location for a slasher film.

One set of odd, claw-like marks on the ground later, right near where they all parked, and Gareth abruptly decided he'd rather focus on Tiffany rather than follow that thought more. 

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her expression annoyed, but the dead giveaway to her freaked out status was the way she couldn't seem to stop moving. Not even after they’d gotten out of their respective cars and started towards her.

Gareth hadn't seen her this bad since the day she temporarily lost her SAT guide.

It didn't bode well for the adventure ahead.

"Finally." She complained as the trio approached. "Did you three stop for milkshakes on the way!?"

"Traffic Tiff, you know how it is." Eddie said with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

She simply gave a pointed look at her watch before glaring back at them.

"Steve!" Someone yelled, and Dustin promptly launched out of some corner at the older teen, babbling a mile a minute.

“Slow down, God!” Steve interrupted, doing a clear head to toe sweep of the kid. “You okay? Everyone good? Nobody dead?”

“Not yet!” Dustin said chipperly, which caused Steve to swat at his hat.

“Are you okay?” Gareth asked Tiff, as Steve and Dustin began talking rapid-fire, in the kind of way that spoke of past events and made little to no sense to anyone not in the loop.

"Yeah." Tiff nodded stiffly. “Would have been a lot happier if Stewart had listened to me for once, but.” She shrugged, her version of ‘it is what it is.’

Eddie reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Is everyone else in the lab?” He asked, peering about.

He got another nod. “The room the idiot’s stuck in is just up the stairs and down the hall a bit. I’m amazed he didn’t get hurt, he fell through the ceiling.” She shook her head, clearly worried and trying her best not to show it. “Everyone’s kind of been wandering between there and here, but the random children who showed up are insisting we all walk around in groups.”

She turned to eye Dustin, before looking towards the entryway to the lab.

“Probably a good thing given the wall collapsed, but they all think there’s some,” She huffed, arms shrugging helplessly. “monster lurking about.”

Gareth stared at the lab entrance for a moment, once again taking in random stains and smears that were all around them. Spotted a few more of those weird, elongated claw marks raking down the stairs, spread more like fingers than anything else, and the group of them that surrounded a suspiciously large stain in the entryway. 

“What made you guys want to explore the lab tonight anyway? It’s Thursday.” Eddie asked. 

This earned him a more animated eye roll.

“Would you believe me if I told you I owed Jeff a favor, and he owed Grant a favor, and Grant got into it with Stewart over whether or not the lab had glowing goo hiding inside?"

“Glowing goo?” Eddie and Gareth echoed as one.

“Like what Mikey the bartender was saying last time he was drunk? The whole thing with that weird green goo that fell out of some truck?” Gareth asked, and it wasn’t the stupidest thing that had riled up Stewart and Grant but by God was it up there.

Tiff sighed a second time, sounding pained. “Yeah. That goo. Stewart kept insisting Mikey got a “hot tip” that some military guys knew it was here,” Her fingers came up to make the quotation marks, somehow managing to make the movement sarcastic. “and wanted it moved over to that new mall they’re building. Starcourt.”

“So Stewart had to come see it.” Eddie finished, as if he wouldn’t have also been dying to go get a look.

Frankly, Gareth himself was slightly annoyed he and Eddie hadn’t been called upon as it were.

“Mikey also apparently believes something else wants the goo and chased the military guys who were here out of the building. That part must be going around, because the kids here are pretty insistent there’s a monster inside.” Tiffany added, waving a hand towards Dustin.

Eddie made a move to slung his arm over her shoulder, giving her a full body squeeze before letting her go.

Tiff allowed it, and for the briefest of seconds, even seemed to lean in.

“Hello Steve, nice murder weapon.” She greeted loudly, entirely unphased by the nail bat in his hands as Hellfire’s jock and his favorite small annoyance stepped up to them. “Having met your children, I have to say, your parenting skills are utter shit.”

Dustin frowned up at her, instantly offended. “Steve’s our friend.” He corrected, angrily emphasizing ‘friend,’ right over the top of Steve’s loud protest of;

“It’s not a murder weapon, jeez!”

“If anyone is lacking in skills it’s your little group’s!” Dustin cut in, waving a hand around. “Not one of you was prepared for breaking into the lab! No weapons, no back up, you’re the only one who even had quarters and one of you isn’t even wearing a jacket. If we hadn’t shown up you guys would have been in some real shit!”

Tiff stared flatly down at Dustin, ignoring Steve entirely. “Sure, pipsqueak."

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve asked, before Dustin could fuss more.

“Glowing goo, apparently.” Eddie answered, moving with him.

Tiffany took the hint, starting to walk towards the stairs as Dustin trotted forward next to her, clearly intending to “lead” just as much as she was.

Gareth watched from the corner of his eyes as Steve automatically stepped to Dustin’s right, making sure the kid was surrounded on all sides.

‘Fuckin’ softie.’ He thought fondly, even as he gripped the fire poker he held in his hand tighter.

Eddie had managed to stow the knife away, making it vanish somewhere among his jacket and Judas Priest shirt, so it was just him and Steve looking like lunatics.

Thankfully, Tiff had spared Gareth her opinion on the fire poker. 

“Goo?” Steve asked, and unlike the rest of them, he sounded downright alarmed.

“So there’s this bartender at the Hideout.” Eddie started, launching into the story with a lot more pizzazz than Gareth thought it really required. He and Tiff traded glances, and Gareth got to see the exact moment Dustin’s eyes caught sight of Eddie and went dinner plate wide.

Gareth would have nudged Tiff, maybe made a joke about how Eddie was gaining a new sheep just by his terminal need to be the loudest person in a room, but a movement on the left caught his gaze.

Gareth stopped, as something unmistakably fleshy slunk back in the shadows, one weirdly shaped paw flashing as something caught the light. 

Fear raked through him, freezing Gareth dead to the spot, hands tightening on his fire poker.

“Hey, guys? He asked, interrupting whatever story Eddie had inevitably gone off of (likely one of the many, many backstories involving Mikey the bartender’s belief in UFOs) “That monster the kids think they saw. What uh, what’s it supposed to look like?”

“Why?” Tiff asked, at the same time Eddie yelled at him to; “Keep up, Gary, god!”

Gareth didn’t answer, instead staring deep into the shadows.

Nothing moved.

‘You’re seeing things.’ He told himself finally. ‘Unless it went through solid fucking wall, you would still be able to see it. You're just stressing yourself out because Steve’s being weird.’

Fuck knows it wouldn’t be the first time he thought he saw something when his anxiety started acting up.

"So Gare, did you bring the fire poker along because of the monster?" Tiff asked, amused, as she briefly dropped back towards him.

Clearly, she'd just been waiting for an opening to tease him about it. 

He flushed scarlet. 

"No!" He spat, hugging the thing closer.

A grin unfurled on Tiff's face, Cheshire-esque.

"I'm serious, Steve told us to bring it!" Gareth insisted, trying to look manly with it.

He knew he failed as badly as Eddie had earlier.

"You know, I'm starting to think Eddie's not the only one gone on our human fighter…" Tiff trailed off, raising one eyebrow, and causing Gareth to flip her off.

Thankfully that train of conversation was interrupted by loud arguing.

“We’re not cats Steve, you can’t just put us outside!” One of the kids was bitching, the group having caught sight of Steve and hustling over.

Jeff was seated on the floor in the hallway, one hand holding up his chin while Grant leaned against the wall next to him, both looking incredibly bored.

Across from them was a door that had looked like it had survived a full-blown seige. Cracks ran throughout the wood, and with the entire center of it bowed inward it was clear why no one could manage to get Stewart out of the room.

It was completely wedged in the frame, with thick enough edges to make it impossible to just pop it out by hand. 

The hoard of gremlins were harder to make out now that they were all clumped together, but Gareth quickly made out their very….unique outfits.

Only the girls had dressed normally, while the boys looking like they either were planning on robbing a train.

Bandana’s over their faces and all.

“Yes, I can actually.” Steve retorted in the exact same bitchy tone. "Tiffany can stay with you guys by the cars while the rest of us figure out how to get Stewart.”

"Thanks for volunteering me." Tiff said flatly, but alas, was ignored by the group at large. 

“Really? So you don’t want El to, you know. Help.” The terminally loud one spat.

“El’s gonna dump your ass if you don’t stop talking for her, Mike.” Steve warned, making the girl puff up proudly while Mike immediately cut a fearful glance to his girlfriend.

“And if El could have helped before, why wait for me to get here?” Steve continued, one hand on his hip, the other resting the nail bat over his shoulder, cutting in before Mike's scrambled apology derailed the conversation.

“I cannot move the door.” El admitted in that sort of flat, blunt way she spoke. “There is something here that is making my powers unstable.”

Steve pointed to her, face morphing into a clear “see?” gesture.

“Now unless Dustin is going to science the door open somehow--and I’m not saying you couldn’t,” Steve spoke the second part quickly, as Dustin’s mouth popped open, “then all of you are going to wait outside. Where the demo-the thing, isn’t.”

Gareth really, really hated how he kept referring to it as a thing.

One of the kids rolled their eyes and muttered; “We literally said we don’t know if it’s a--” and promptly got elbowed in the stomach for it.

Right.

Not suspicious at all.

“But we can help!” Dustin protested furiously.

Gareth wasn't sure if it was because Dustin truly thought he could help, or if it was because he wasn't used to the pushback.

For all that he was an only child, Steve had clearly inherited an older brother's prerogative of letting kids do stupid shit so long as he supervised (and typically, laughed at the outcome.

Gareth still fondly recalled the time Mike declared himself man enough to smoke.

Steve had conned him into chainsmoking outside the arcade until the kid finally threw up in the bushes on his fourth cigarette and declared Steve's smoking habit disgusting.)

“El could help.” Steve countered calmly. “Max probably, if I gave her my bat, but the rest of you are just moving targets. So make like a drum, and beat it.”

"That was lame, Steve." Dustin sniffed, while the other kids groaned loudly. “A real low effort pun.”

Steve just flicked his hand out in a shoo motion before leaning his bat up against the wall.

Jeff stared it before making immediate eye contact with Gareth, every inch of him screaming ‘what the hell!’

With a sigh, and an unfortunate side glance at Tiff, Gareth explained; “It’s for the monster.”

That at least, was easier than explaining Steve knew what was here and was doing his damndest not to tell them what it was.

Even if it made Tiff grin manically in his direction. 

His only relief was that Steve got her attention right after, calling "Heads up!" before tossing her his car keys. 

Because her hand eye coordination was superior to Eddie’s, she caught them easily.

If there's an emergency, get them out." Steve warned, voice just over the edge of too serious, losing the banter he’d kept up since they’d arrived.

"If there's an emergency we're coming back on to save your ass." Dustin snapped back, arms crossed, because of course he was listening.

“No.” Steve told him simply.

“Yes.”

“No, no, no-!”

Tiff let out a sharp whistle, the sound piercing in the echoing hallway.

"Gremlins with me!" She commanded, before catching Steve's eyes over their heads . "You fucking owe me, Harrington."

He nodded, before dropping a glare to the kids. "Just don't let them drive my car."

“God I can’t believe he’s still upset about that, it’s not like we fucked up the Camaro.” Mike complained loudly, allowing himself to be herded back outdoors.

“Max did hit a mailbox.” Lucas retorted, and then yelped a loud; “Ow, Max!” as he was presumably punished for voicing the fact out loud.

Their voices faded slightly as they went down the stairs, and Gareth managed to drag his attention back to the problem at hand.

One very fucked up door.

"Do you think we could kick it down?” Steve asked, as Eddie bent down to examine the door.

Refusing to look anyone in the face, Jeff said; “We may have tried that already.” 

“My darling lambs, you’re approaching this wrong.” Eddie cooed, and got several glares for it.

“The door might be fucked by the hinges here, are not. Looks like all I need is the right screwdriver and lucky for Stewart!--” He yelled his friend's name, banging on the door and no doubt hoping to spook him.

A muffled shout of “Screw you Munson!” was all he got for his efforts.

 “--I have my toolbox in my car.”

“Do I want to know what you have a toolbox for, Ed's?” Steve asked.

“Perfectly legal avenues only, I assure you.” Eddie replied, batting his eyelashes up at Steve innocently.

Grant and Jeff both gagged.

“Would the two of you gentlemen be so kind as to fetch me my box?” Eddie said, pulling out his keys and offering them up to Jeff. “I want to try one more thing. I don’t think it’ll work, but I can test it while you boys are gone.”

“He’s going to try to kick it in himself.” Gareth tattled flatly.

“I am not!” Eddie immediately denied, eyes wide in feigned hurt.

It was fake as shit.

“Let him!” Jeff said over as he got up. “That way I won’t be the only one getting made fun of for doing it!”

A car suddenly honked from outside, startling them all.

“Check that the shitheads aren’t murdering Tiff while you’re out there!” Steve called as Jeff and Grant took off towards the entrance, before moving out of Eddie’s way as he surged upwards.

“It’s more likely she’d be murdering them.” Eddie replied, and sure enough he was backing up like he was going to try and kick the door.

“Do you see how thick that thing is? The indent, here?” Steve sassed, pointing towards the giant dent slightly off center, where the door bowed inwards. “I’m pretty sure Jeff wasn’t the one who did that. These things are built to hold, man.”

“Ah but you’ve seen Jeffery's legs. Our beloved new cleric should stick to punching things, he’s not made for kicking.” Eddie said, tongue peaking out of his mouth as he sized up the door.

An odd, low chittering caught Gareth’s attention, the noise like nails on a chalkboard as the older teens continued to argue. 

“Have you seen yourself?” Steve asked point blank, hip cocked and bitch mode on. “You aren’t either.”

“Don’t be mean, Steven, just because I don’t have jock muscles--”

The chittering got louder, and Gareth found himself taking a few steps away from his friends, in the opposite direction of the stairs as he tried to figure out where the fuck it was coming from. 

A light at the farthest end of the long hallway gave out, barely noticeable. unless one was looking for it. Gareth hadn't even internalized the hallway had lighting, he'd been too busying with everything else--but it did. 

Likely the place had a backup generator, but that didn't explain why the lights in this hallway were on--and now, suddenly, giving out. 

'Maybe the kids did it...?' He thought, still trying to figure out why the chittering sounded like it was getting closer. 

“You’re going to break your leg.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to believe in people more Stevie? Have some faith?”

“I have faith that you’re face is about to hit the floor, does that count?”

Another light failed, giving the appearance of the hallway warping. Not all of it, just one weird wall, that seemed to stretch like something was trying to break out. 

"Okay but if I kick the door and it busts in, you owe me ten bucks."

"If you kick the door down not only will I give you ten bucks, Eddie, I'll go see that stupid new movie you won't shut up about with you." 

"Oh we'll be seeing Fright Night with or without my door busting talents--" 

Another light, out, and now Gareth could see a shape taking form. Later he'd swear it had actually, crawled out from the wall.

(Later, he'd find out the Upside Down creatures had a habit of doing that.)

He thought it was a tiger at first.

It has the same overall shape--long body with muscular shoulders, head low as it prowled forward.

Except the tail curled up over its back, hanging like a scorpion’s and its face…

It took a second for Gareth to make sense of what he was seeing.

The huge, oddly shaped bulb, like a flower’s before it unfurled.

Thick liquid drooled out from red tinged edges, dripping onto the floor. It was too far away to hear, but Gareth imagined the little plinks of noise it made anyway.

"Guys." He said, voice pitched impossibly high.

The Not-Tiger stepped further into the light, revealing it to be hairless.

Its skin was flecked red and grotesquely gray, with odd, thick folds of flesh hanging off its sides. Those pieces moved in weird little jerks and flutters, almost like another appendage entirely.

Another step forward, the weird, folded pieces of skin moving out and out and out on either side of it, hitching up in a U shape and oh, God.

They were wings.

'Lion body, scorpion tail, dragon wings.' A far off part of Gareth identified. 'It's missing the human face, but otherwise that's pretty dead on for a--"

"Manticore!" Gareth screamed, right as the things head split open into five petals filled with rows of fangs.

It screamed right back, then lunged at him, claws and teeth and tail all extending to attack.

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Counterproductive Tendencies ✩ James Hetfield

⭒ introductory, part two, part three, part four ⭒ (wordcount: 7.9k)

Part one of multiple: Bottle Caps and Rugburn (16+)

Mentions/Warnings: drug use, sexual suggestion

Ephemeral clouds temporarily obscure your already altered line of vision as you hesitantly trudge forward and off your shared front porch, the huff of uneasiness you let out nearly inaudible as your roommates continuously complain from behind you. You shakily exhale as the bottom of your right, overworn and half shoved on tennis shoe snags on a rough side of uneven pavement, and you attempt to unsteadily stabilize yourself with a blind hand in front of you. Relief floods through you as you feel your palm slide against and make contact with the large tree you remember to be in front of your newly assigned home and dormitory, your fingers bending inward to grip onto its damp curvature as you testily circle your ankle back and forth.

"Don't tell me you've already injured yourself, before you could go and tell our neighbors off for keeping us up until two in the morning." A voice from the still partially warm entrance of the front door teasingly drawls, causing your already squinting eyes to fall shut with barely concealed annoyance and exhaustion.

"Kept you five up, actually. I happened to have already been sleeping just fine," you respond dryly, kicking your foot back down and skidding it up to where your other one balances your weight, once you're sure it won't tense or strain. The thick material of your sock makes a soft, padded sound once it makes rough contact with the sole of your shoe, and you twist your upper half to peer back at the partially huddled group of women surrounding the highest step. "Why am I the one to go and talk to these guys, anyway? I've never even met them."

"You just answered your own question," another one rasps out, her hands gripping onto a thick blanket covering her broad and caving in shoulders, the tip of her nose bright red from the invasive and domineering wind. "They've never met you, which means that they'll give you even less shit than they usually give us. Fresh meat and all. Even assholes like them won't slam a door in your face the first time."

The eldest of the group sends you a small and almost genuine smile, before leaning forward on the side railing to raise a hand and gesture for you to keep moving forward and across the street. "They aren't as bad as they sound. They offered us beer once."

"Yeah, and then egged our house-" "Well, that was because one of you guys called the police, and they showed up right after we knocked on their door to talk to them about the noise-" "I told you we should've just stayed home that night. Now they know we're snitches. We told on them; we're fucking narcs."

You wince as a small pulse of pain travels to each one of your temples and down to the middle of your forehead, the one bright light on the side of the porch glaring its way into your peripheral vision as you wearily look up at the girls. You slowly blink to gather moisture for your sore and dry eyes and breathe out a quiet sound of disbelief as they continue to mindlessly talk over each other, before turning yourself back around to face the tree and throwing a halfhearted wave behind your goosebump-ridden back.

You ignore the increased volume in their voices as you do so and carefully make your way over and down the uneven pavement and curb, your face and bare lower legs numbing as the frosty air envelopes itself over your underdressed form.

You glance around and quickly begin to make your way over to a much larger and nicer house once you discover it to be the source of the loud music and barreling cheers, beer caps audibly crunching underneath your fast paced feet as soon as you make your first few steps onto the stranger's property. You make yourself walk impossibly faster to the half-shut front door, refusing to allow your anxiety to stop you from helping your roommates hopefully get some sleep and for them to finally shut up.

Before you can even reach forward to push the door open wider and take a step inside, it comes whipping open and loudly collides with the wall behind it, causing you to jump in fright and lean back as a man around your age peers down at you with unhidden interest, his eyes comically wide and concerningly bloodshot.

"If anyone asks you about that, you'll tell them it wasn't me, right? Dickheads already had me pay out of pocket for the last time someone cannonballed through our glass table, and it wasn't even me! It was some blonde chick who chugged too much during a keg stand and couldn't handle her lager."

You send him a confused thumbs up, his accent too thick and slurred for you to be able to discern the words tumbling out of his mouth. You can't help but cheer up as he sends you a wide and overenthusiastic grin at your agreeance, and a cold, already opened beer can is being pressed into your already tingling palms before you can even decline.

"For not being a dick about the damage I'm doing to my own property." He explains, his eyebrows raising as your facial expression morphs into animated relief.

"This is your place? Thank God, I thought I'd be looking around all night until I found you," you speedily breathe out, the man now leaning against the doorway and looking at you in drunken shock, as if he wasn't speaking even faster than you seconds before. "My roommates woke me up and pressured me to come over and ask you to turn the music down."

The man's expression quickly drops and almost turns mean, seemingly freezing midway into a grimace as he takes in your uncomfortable posture and tense shoulders. "You were put up to this?" He asks you skeptically, reaching out to take back the beer once he sees you raise your hands up to your mouth to blow hot air on your already windblown, red streaked knuckles and palms.

"I can sleep like the dead. My roommates, not so much," you admit, some of your anxiousness melting away as you watch his face crumple with understanding. "Said I'm fresh meat and you wouldn't be as rude to me as you usually are to them, at least on my first trip over here."

"So, they had you come over to a stranger's house, during a large party at two thirty in the morning, to confront your neighbors, who you were told were hostile and unwelcoming? On your probably, very first week of living there?" At your nod, the man shakes his head in disbelief, before studying you with an inquisitive look and nodding his head in the direction of the ongoing party behind himself.

"Come on in. I'll get you something warmer to wear, and I'll get my even less than shitty roommates to introduce themselves to you," he sends you a cheeky look and makes sure you're following him before moving forward and even further inside. "We won't give you shit this time, only if you didn't call the cops before coming over here first."

A loud bout of drunken laughter petals itself out of the man guiding you inside, and you take in a deep breath, before walking toward and into the large mass of strangers and their inebriated shouts and movements.

"Fuck it." You murmur to yourself, only looking back to see if your roommates were still waiting for you outside. A frown makes its way to your lips once you see that the side porch's light is now off, and the front door is now fully closed.

"Name's Lars, by the way," he nearly shouts at you as you two make it to a staircase, lightly gripping your elbow after you're nearly toppled over by rough and incessant, dance-powered shoves. "I've got a friend's room you can change in, don't worry." You nod despite your nerves and quickly match your footsteps with his as you two make your way up the stairs. You glance out a large set of windows in the hallway and allow your eyes to drink in the ever-growing amount of people dancing outside in the freezing cold air, their heads thrown back and laughter pouring out of them, careless of the wind and everything to all intents and purposes, trying to knock them off their feet. As you're handed an oversized white dress shirt, and a slightly larger than usual pair of jeans and left alone to change, you crouch down to sit on the carpeted floor and force yourself to suck in a much needed and trembling breath. You momentarily close your eyes, before sliding them back open and shoving your flimsy shirt over your head, your hair coming loose from its confines of an earlier and secure ponytail.

So much for a warm welcome and a new start.

⭒

A quiet curse pillows its way out of your pursed lips as you cup your ear and clumsily make your way onto your knees, your stray hairs tickling the sides of your face as you search for your missing earring and stud. Your socked feet nearly slide out from underneath you as you bring yourself down and use your elbows as leverage, closing one eye to look underneath the bed only a foot away from you.

"Oh, come on. You've got to be here somewhere." You whisper out hopelessly, a sound of defeat reverberating in your chest once you're unable to find it beneath the lifted mattress. You let out a groan and allow your arms to let up, the bottom of the dress shirt nearly covering you from the mid-thigh up, lifting as you flop on the floor and land on top of the discarded pair of ripped jeans. You lift your head to rest it on top of your clasped hands and freeze in place as your eyes make contact with bright blue eyes, already looking down at you.

Wavy, dirty blonde hair cascades and rests against beautifully scarred and dimpled skin, accompanied with red and plush lips, them already curved up in a bewildered yet amused grin. Black jeans accentuate long, muscled legs, and a band tee is stretched out against a toned and taut torso. A jean jacket is splayed across sculpted and fully formed biceps, and you have to force yourself to not let out a sound of humiliation as the stranger takes their time drinking in your form.

You can't stop your body from jolting as the man speaks out in the heady air, and your eyes narrow as he chortles out a gentle and mirthful sounding laugh. You push yourself up into a sitting position, your spread legs instinctively curling up underneath you and ankles tightly linking together as you intentionally avert your wide eyes and stare down at the embroidered carpet instead.

"As much as I truly don't mind the view, why exactly are you wearing my only dress shirt, and why are you sprawled out in my room? On the floor, specifically?" You try not to seem affected by the smooth and comforting cadence of his tone, willing yourself to swallow thickly and clear your voice before answering him.

"I didn't want to invade your privacy by getting into your bed without your permission," You blurt out, immediately regretting your choice of words as you take them in yourself. Before the man standing in the doorway can ask you any more questions, you rush to continue. "Lars brought me up here, told me to dress more warmly. This was the first thing I saw when I walked into your closet. I really didn't mean to intrude."

The blue-eyed man's expression insurmountably softens once he notices how out of place and hesitant and nervous you look, going as far to take a step further back from entering his own room to give you more space. He goes to open his mouth to reassure you, before momentarily freezing in place. "Wait, you're here with Lars?" He asks you, his jaw almost slack with shock.

You shake your head adamantly, for some reason having a strong urge to reassure the stranger that you came here on your own and with no one else. "I hate to be the one to tell you, sweetheart, but you could do a lot better. Gremlin can't even admit to breaking his own shit, imagine how he'd treat you," you can't help but catch onto the softness in his tone as he teasingly speaks about his friend, his adoration apparent even as he playfully speaks ill of him. "How about we get some pants on you, and we can sneak you out of here before he realizes you're gone?"

His smile is contagious, and you can't help but temporarily mirror his expression, the frown only coming back to your face once you fully take in your predicament. The man sees your face fall, and he decidedly enters the room and slowly makes his way over to you, sitting down next to you but leaves enough distance for you to still feel comfortable and in your own space.

"What's going on in there, doll?" He asks you and points to your head, his tone surprisingly gentle and in contrast of his clothing, which is emanating the smell of cheap whiskey and half rubbed off cologne. You watch as his hands rise and come to reach out and comfort you, only to stop midway and land on the carpet in between the two of you instead, the rings on his fingers catching light and creating artificial rays up to the top of his high ceiling.

"I don't think I can go back to my place tonight, not without waking up my dormmates and pissing them off even further. The only reason I came over here was to ask for you guys to keep it down, on their behalf," you pause as recognition and distaste culminates on his face, and you sigh and reiterate what you said to Lars earlier, once again. "I was already sleeping, but they woke me up to come over here. They said I was fresh meat, and that you wouldn't treat me as shitty as you've treated them."

An array of emotions temporarily shuffle themselves on the handsome man's face beside you, the emotion he soon settles on being incredulity. He makes sure to maintain eye contact with you before he goes to speak, his fingertips digging themselves into the fabric of the carpet to stop himself from reaching out for you again.

"The only reason we've ever given them shit; was because of the way they came off towards us first. The first time they came over, it was two years ago, and we were celebrating an album release. There was still natural light outside, and it was in the middle of the summer. And they come barging in through our door and threatening to call the police, said their summer studies were more important than whatever we felt like we needed to celebrate for. Spoke to us like we were shit, and when we decided to play music for the first time again a few weeks later, they came back again, only this time with the police," an amused smile tugs his lips upward, and your chest flutters at the sight. "So maybe we smoked a little too much one night, crossed the street and pegged their shit with frozen eggs and blast music a little too loudly when we aren't supposed to. Doesn't mean we're any less than them or any better, also doesn't mean that gives them the right to come over to ours, threaten us, and then talk to us like we're shit."

"Treats other's how you wish to be treated." You murmur, your eyes zeroing in on his and watching as his pupils dilate as he looks back at you. He nods back as if he's in a trance, his fingertips stretching out to brush against yours. This time, you reach forward and slide your own through the delicate and soft fabric, your first knuckles colliding with his. Yours still red, and his ring laden and a pale pink.

Music and shared laughter creates its own traveling sound up the stairs and into his bedroom, yet you two seem undisturbed and unbothered, as it attempts to blanket itself and tries to add on to the comfortable silence the two of you created. "What's your name?" You can't help but ask, a dazed and content look coinciding on both of your expressions as you do so, his thumbs rising from the carpet to brush against yours in a delicate caress.

"James." He simply answers, and your lips raise with the simplicity of it.

"Fitting." You muse, shifting your legs to stretch them out, a light blush dusting your cheeks as your socked feet make contact with his closest thigh. Footsteps traipse themselves up the stairs and pause near the entrance of James' room, and you both let out a laugh as Lars' head hesitantly pops in through the side of the doorway.

The relief on his face is both palpable, and shit-eating all at once. "Looks like I gave you the right room to change in after all," he begins, pleased. "Enough of the chit chat shit. I've got three hundred people downstairs close to passing out, but they're still begging for shots, and I've got three other band members curious about what kind of girl is special enough to keep James away from the alcohol for so long."

The shorter band member ducks down fast enough to miss the tennis shoe coming his way, letting out a hysterical laugh as it flies past him and parachutes down the flight of stairs instead, a resounding shout of muffled pain coming from the bottom of it.

You all share a mutual look of shock, before bursting into laughter. Tears spring to your eyes, and it's hard for you to decipher if they're actually from amusement or from relief. Relief from being around two now named strangers, who seem to be more welcoming to you than your own roommates, who promised to take you in and treat you well. Relief from having to hold back laughter, so you wouldn't be too loud and interrupt a study session, or an afternoon nap.

A ringed hand holds itself out to you once you stop laughing and lightly wipe at your eyes, your own widening as you realize the two of them must be waiting for you. You quickly take ahold of James' hand and avoid Lars' cheeky gaze, the large and calloused palm holding your hand currently helping to keep your own warm.

A shiver travels its way down your spine and goosebumps reappear on your lower legs as you're helped to stand upright, a light breath of laughter coming to life in between you two as you nearly slide from your socks again. Using James' unyielding and firm grasp on your hand for assistance, you squat down to grab ahold of the oversized denim that was offered to you earlier, and shyly wave the pair of jeans in the air near your decently covered chest. "Can you two turn around real quick?" You ask quietly, guilt overcoming you as you appear to provisionally put them out of getting back to their party once again. Lars turns around to face the doorway as soon as you finish your sentence, and James quickly walks over to the door and kicks it shut once you're fully stood back up and his shirt falls back down into place to bracket and cover your upper thighs.

You walk with caution in your socks over to the bed and lean against the bottom frame, before yanking them off entirely and shoving each of your bare feet through the larger legs of the denim. A sound of amusement tears itself out of your chest as you grip onto the waistband of them with both of your hands, and you call out for them to turn back around and see for themselves. Lars lets out a snort and James looks at you with a small smile, before exhaling a breathy chuckle and nodding his head towards his best friend. "You might be better off borrowing a pair of his, since he's closer to you in height and size."

You raise a hand to hide a laugh behind your palm as Lars lets out a half stilted, indignant sound, his bloodshot eyes staring up at his bandmate with unhidden betrayal and his hands coming up to hold onto his hips. "I'll have you know I still get plenty of chicks, short stature and all." You watch as James vehemently nods and runs a hand down his back, before reaching forward and reopening his bedroom door. Lars squares his shoulders and slides through the partial opening, only momentarily pausing to throw his head back to the side to send you both a playful glare. You can't help the wide smile that spreads your lips, the lighthearted sound escaping James' own making it even harder for you to hold back and hide your joviality.

"Is he always like this?" You ask, tired laughter chortling through you as James halfheartedly raises a hand to slowly shake it back and forth.

"Only since '81, when I met him." Your guys' joint amusement delicately turns back into comfortable silence, and the wide smile on your lips melts into a bashful grin. James watches you as you shift your weight on each foot and duck your head, tendrils of loose locks hiding your soft features from his various glimpses of you.

James twists his hand around the doorknob and almost nervously licks his lips. "I'm kind of glad your asshole roommates sent you over here," he starts, his breath stuttering in his chest as you lift your head back up to look at him. "I don't think we would have met if you wouldn't have been." His sentence ends in a near whisper, and your grip on your pants loosens, your fully covered feet making their way over to him on autopilot. You pause mid step, you two now only a breath of a distance away from each other.

"I don't know about that," you murmur, your eyes darting down to his parted lips, your own still lifted and feeling light. "I still think I would have made my way on over to you. To the both of you- all of you, I guess." A light blush dusts your cheeks as you stammer, and James nearly jumps as Lars suddenly reappears, his eyebrows raised and his reddened eyes knowing and glinting.

"Let's get you looking even more mismatched and fucked up for downstairs." He sarcastically cheers, sending a soft smile your way as he places a comfortable looking pair of sweatpants and non-slip socks in your awaiting hands. You thank him and let out a sigh of relief as they turn around to face the door again. You secure the sweats with the drawstring and tuck the bottom half of the dress shirt into the waistline, before bending down to carefully slide on the socks.

"Just to let you know, James has his own bathroom attached to his bedroom and it's only a few feet away." You look up at the sound of an audible slap and yelp, a laugh bellowing out of you as you watch James fluster and shake his head in disbelief. He quickly glances at you once you notify them you're fully dressed, his eyes wide with panic and his plush lips set in a frown. You lightly tap him on the shoulder and grin up at him, letting him know it was alright.

"I- we only stayed in the room because you asked for us to turn around," he excuses, his eyes meeting yours and his tone of voice lowering. "I didn't think you'd be comfortable with me leaving you alone, with such a big party going on downstairs. Anyone could have walked in, and I. I wanted to make sure you were alright." His best friend tosses his head down and hides a grin at his bandmate's uncharacteristic shy tone and body language. You look up at him in silent awe and slowly reach forward to squeeze his hand in thanks, your eyes widening as he instead twists his hand around to securely hold onto yours. Lars glances down at your joined hands and theatrically sighs, before yanking the rest of the door open, not even flinching as it bounces off the wall behind it and James curses him out loud.

"And that was your fault, because you didn't listen to me when I spoke to you guys about the protectant foam plaster," he accuses, his tone sharp but his words light. Lars sends you both an impatient look, before stepping out of the room and beckoning you guys' forward. "You ready to try out a black tooth grin?"

"What exactly is a black tooth grin?" You hesitantly ask, your expression turning cautious as James and Lars smile in unison and don't answer.

"Let's get fucked up, you fucks." Lars sighs out as you three eventually make your way back downstairs, the curse words in his sentence sounding like terms of endearment. You peer up at James once you step off the last stair and onto the bright and chilled tile, hesitantly squeezing his hand before delicately disentangling yours to let go.

"Are you sure it's alright for me to stay the night?" You nearly whisper, the current crowd around you making you feel completely out of your element and uneasy.

James' fingers firmly tighten around yours, before properly engulfing your digits with his, his bright blue eyes looking down at you intently, but gently at the same time.

"You are more than welcome, sweetheart." Lars' head snaps towards you two, and for a moment, you instinctively expect him to decline the offer or disagree. Instead, he sends you both a mirthful, wide shit-eating grin.

"Sweetheart. Fitting." He muses, over the top. James raises a hand to smack him on the back of the head, but he moves too quickly out of the way. "Cheeky, little eavesdropping shit." James mutters to himself, the wide and elated grin on his face counterproductive to the rough tone in his voice. You squeeze his hand reassuringly, smiling up at him as he beams down at you.

"Let's get fucked up, you fucks." You mimic without imitating your new friend's accent, biting back a laugh as James raises an eyebrow and lifts his arm to guide you toward the table full of alcohol. Your eyes widen as a multitude of unknown and already half empty bottles greet you on a table nearly ten feet long, so many bottles on it that they nearly slide off with each step you two take forward. Three pairs of inquisitive eyes make their way on over to you as you step forward to stand alongside James, the awkward smile on your face endearing enough to make them grin back at you and drunkenly introduce themselves. You turn your head to watch as James pours a copious amount of whisky and coke into a solo cup, grabbing a handful of ice and dropping it inside of the concoction before handing it over to you. You wince at the burn during your first sip, but grin as the sweetness of the soda soothes it soon after. James guides you over to a vacant seat once you finish greeting his friends and nearly has you sitting in his lap, letting out a physical laugh against your back as you playfully ask him if he could make you something stronger once you down your first drink.

"Oh, sweetheart. You're going to regret saying that to me, of all people."

⭒

"I just don't think you'd want me on your team is all," you drawl out tipsily, your movements feeling more at ease as you share a secretive smile with Cliff over the edge of your bottle. "I'm not that good at beer pong. Wouldn't want to slow you down or make you lose the game." James narrows his eyes at you as pitters of laughter follow soon after your words, before tossing back the rest of his drink and hastily standing up.

"Alright then. Jason, Kirk, you're with me." he announces, his own tone dazed but still energized. You bite back a laugh as you watch him partially stumble over to a cluttered table and attempt to shove all of its used contents into the nearest trash bin, him missing nearly ninety percent of it and the rest just narrowly making its way inside. You and Lars stand up at the same time and share a wild grin, you quickly following suit of him filling up solo cups and placing them in their assigned spots. Cliff makes his way over and stands in the middle of your side of the pool table, with Lars to his right and you to his left. Thick wafts of smoke encircle themselves around your head and give you a mild second hand high, as he simultaneously sucks on the handmade filter of a backwoods pre-rolled blunt and places his part of the betting money on the side of the table closest to Kirk.

"I saw you make those three beer bottles in that trash can ten feet away an hour ago. You make those same shots with these ping pong balls, we split the money evenly and you'll have something to tease James about," Cliff whispers to you, voice muffled as he inhales a large puff of marijuana mixed with nicotine and allows it to expel out of his nostrils. He shoots an innocent looking smile to James as he watches you two from across the table, his calloused fingertips teasing the precipice of his cup and his eyes rarely straying away from you. Your lips lift even higher as the two of you make eye contact, a blush making permanent dormancy on the apples of your cheeks as an uncontrollable smile lifts his own. You force yourself to look away as Cliff continues to speak. "Although I don't think that'll be a problem. You could miss every point and we'd still probably win; with the way he can't stop looking at you."

"Just stand there and send him a smile every few minutes, why don't you." Lars adds, ducking forward as you try to reach behind Cliff and hit him on his back.

"Just for that, I'm going to try and beat your highest score," you playfully threaten, your eyes lazily rolling to the side as your newly acquired friend cries out a childish ooh. You shift closer to Cliff and begin to pay attention as the game starts on James' side. "Is it dumb of me to feel bad for lying to him about not being good at beer pong?" You quietly ask him, your voice nearly inaudible over the few drunks staying the night and the rest of party goers slowly making their way out and home, their loud declarations of them having a good time making your ears ring. Cliff sends you an inquisitive look, before raising an eyebrow and lowering down his ashtray, his lip ticking upward on the side as Lars curses out loud and lifts up another solo cup. Kirk smirks and leans against the pool table, his slightly crooked middle finger reaching past the few cups left on their side to greet his best friend with his digit.

"I think it's nice of you to feel guilty for something as small as lying about not being good at beer pong. It shows the good in you," he pauses mid answer as he bounces his ball towards the largest cup on the opposite side of the table, his side smirk turning into a full-blown grin as Kirk huffs and hesitantly lifts up the goblet full of vodka. Cliff lightly nudges you with his elbow until you loosen up and breathe out a soft chuckle. "As long as you don't lie about serious shit and you treat him well, then you have nothing to worry about."

You hum, before stopping in place and shooting your eyes upward to quizzically look at him. "Was that a subtle threat?" You ask him, impressed and amused as he gives you an overexaggerated once over and throws his ball without even looking. As you gape and watch as his ball catches along the side of the rim of the cup and lands in the plastic alcoholic beverage with ease, Cliff sends James a wink and passes you a ball from the half empty bucket beside you.

"Your turn."

You take a deep breath and push his half assed response to the back of your mind, the heels of your heavily socked feet lifting from the ground as you toss your ping pong ball over to their side of the table. You close your eyes and hold back a wince as silence envelops everyone around you, before jumping in shock as Lars reaches over past Cliff and grips your shoulders with a loud cheer. "You double tapped, which means someone has to drink from both cups, and you get another shot," a small, celebratory smile makes its way to your lips, it quickly turning into a small, mirthful smirk as James picks up both cups and pours them into one. "Drink it and weep, bitch."

James sends Lars a dirty look, before tossing the half-filled cup of beer back in a few large gulps, a grimace etched in his facial features as he bitterly swallows the room temperature lager. "Last time I checked, you and Kirk sucked ass the last four times we played and nearly gave yourselves alcohol poisoning."

Kirk lets out a resounding groan, the goblet nearly toppling over as he blindly drops it back down on the table, his forearms immediately wrapping themselves around his middle once both of his hands are free. "Don't talk about that, man. I'll throw up just from thinking about it," you send him a sympathetic look and toss him your spare elastic, nodding back at him as he shouts out a drunken thank you and haphazardly ties up his hair. "I think I might need to forfeit. Some crazy shit is going on down there."

Jason perks up and from his tired stupor on the side of the table, his eyes already half closed, and his arms open wide enough for Kirk to fall into. Kirk lets out a sigh of relief once he's embraced and able to lean against something that isn't an inanimate object, blindly reaching up to pat on his bandmate's curly hair in gratitude. "Sounds good to me, I've got another gig in the afternoon and the smell of Yuengling is getting to me."

Lars lets out an elongated yawn and Cliff nods to himself, before turning to you and tilting his head towards a downtrodden looking James. You speak up before you have the chance to second guess it, wanting and craving to see the youthful smile on his face once again.

"You and me," you propose, feeling shy as the rest of the guys pause their slow movements and look over at you. You keep your eyes trained on James, his blue irises reigniting and lighting up with your next words, his hands halting in the process of collecting the still filled cups. "Whoever double taps or gets the next two shots in a row, wins. Whoever loses owes the winner something."

James unfurls and realigns the cups in their original positions, sending you a cheeky grin as you teasingly toss a ping pong ball back and forth in between your cupped hands. "So, what do you say?"

"You know, sweetheart. A lucky double tap or two during a 3v3 doesn't necessarily mean you're going to be able to win against or beat me." Your jaw ticks as he proudly waits for your response, his ringed fingers curling around the thick edges of wood in anticipation for your response.

You take a deep breath and steady yourself, before simply saying, "Get ready to lose, big boy."

⭒

A wide grin lifts your entire face as you watch James chug down the last gulp in his final solo cup, his eyes displaying his obvious exhaustion and drunkenness as he tosses it down once he's finished. "I can't believe I just lost to a girl." You go to look around for the response from the boys, but grin to yourself once you remember that they all forced themselves to go to sleep about an hour ago.

You let out a laugh of disbelief and set down your half-finished bottle of water, meeting James halfway as he clumsily tries to clean up the mess on the table. "I guess I finally found your flaw." You announce, the second hand high and earlier inebriation slowly easing off and allowing you to feel clearer minded.

James places the garbage bag down and gently grabs ahold of your hands, using them as leverage to tug you forward and into his arms. "And what would that be?" You let out a teasing hum and laugh into his chest as he breathes out an impatient grunt. Taking a step back, you smile as his flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled hair come back into view.

"Not only are you the definition of a sore loser, but you're also misogynistic." You hold back a bout of laughter as he sputters and immediately begins to disagree.

"That's not true," he denies, unclasping one of his hands from yours to tilt your chin up and hold you in place with his thumb and index fingers. You playfully raise an eyebrow and allow yourself to giggle as he continues to vehemently disagree. "I respect you, respected you so much that I didn't even try to look at you while you were changing earlier," James' voice lowers into an unsure whisper, his thumb grazing the soft skin on your jawline. "I wanted to."

Your breath hitches in your chest at his confession, your free hand coming up to encircle itself around his raised wrist. You watch as his eyes deepen in color at your newfound touch, his eyelids starting to look weighed down. "Yeah?" You quietly ask him back, warmth pooling in your groin as he silently nods and ardently looks down at you. "I wanted you to look at me too."

James wets his lips and guides you forward with his grip on your chin, close to the point of your breaths mingling and nearly merging into one. "You said the loser owes the winner something," you dazingly blink and nod up at him, the tips of your toes rubbing against the front of his boots as you step closer, are guided closer. Your eyes hood as he brings himself down to your height, his natural scent and combination of cologne and alcohol enough to make your head feel as if it was swimming. James' thumb lightly tugs at your bottom lip, and you open your mouth obediently, your grip tightening around his wrist as he lets out a shuttered exhale. "Tell me what you want then," he pleads. "I'll give you anything. Just tell me."

You try to tell yourself that it's too soon, that he'll get tired of you once he gets what he wants. But you've never had a man look at you like this before. Not just looking like he wanted you, but wanted to engrave you into him, to make you a permanent by his side. You release his wrist and slide a hand into the thick locks near the nape of his neck and bring him in, impossibly closer, your heart feeling as if it was about to beat and land outside of your chest.

"Kiss me," you gasp into the electrified air, the warm puffs of exhalation of his breaths against you full on stop, before he lets out a sigh of relief and places his lips on top of yours.

Whisky and beer and mixed drinks are what you taste at first, but they all fall behind as his arms lower down to your middle and lift you from the ground, your own arms entangling themselves around his neck and your lips parting as an invitation as he kisses you breathless. Day old stubble brushes against your cupids bow as his tongue testily makes its way into your awaiting mouth, and you moan as he instinctively laps at the roof of your mouth and brings his teeth forward to nip at your bottom lip. You suck on his tongue and caress his with your own, wanting to familiarize yourself with the taste of his appendage and spit.

Your legs rise and wrap around his waist as he grips your flesh so firmly, you know they'll be fingerprints embedded in your skin for days after. You feel him grunt against you as you tug at the hair residing right above his scalp, thick spit trails keeping you both connected as you two part, the coolness in the air from the winter now long gone. Heat curls in your middle, and you have to stop yourself from lowering your sex to rub against his front.

James shudders and licks up the slabs of connective saliva that land on his chin, leaning towards you once more to share the taste, before despairingly disconnecting with you once again.

You both gasp for breath, your chests beating erratically and hands grasping so tightly onto each other that if one of you two were to try and pull away, the other would refuse and tighten their grip. You lean forward to rest your forehead against his and airily breathe in his scent. James' large palms rub their way up and down the spine of your back, and he lets out an adoration filled laugh as you only half successfully hold back a quiet yawn.

"Think I should take you up to the guest room." He murmurs in the silent room around you two, the soft and seemingly all-defining cadence in his tone making your eyelids feel even heavier. You peer up at him through blurry eyes, the exhaustion you felt earlier finally catching up with you now.

"I can't sleep with you?" You tiredly ask, a blood red flush making its way down your chest as James simply raises an eyebrow and rests his hands near the swell of your ass.

"If you come up to my room, the last thing we'll be doing is sleeping," he admits, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. You absentmindedly lick your lips to chase the taste of him and freeze in place as his mouth impulsively opens for you. James lets out a groan and tosses his head back, his facial expression looking almost pained. His fingertips ground themselves into your backside and you let out a helpless moan, his own cock twitching with interest at the sound you emit. "I want to take my time with you, have to," he whispers in the space between you two. James tilts his head forward and places a gentle kiss to your forehead, before maneuvering you back down on your feet. His hands come down to cradle yours, and he brings them up to his chest. "I've rushed things before and fucked them up, but I don't want to do that with you. There's something special here, and I know you can feel it too."

You nod in agreeance and lightly rub the pads of your fingertips against his almost trembling knuckles. "I do. Of course I do, James." You reassure him gently, wishing to bring yourself back in his arms already.

"Let's take our time with this, figure this shit out and make it work," he says in a more stable tone, your admittance of returning what he felt giving him enough confidence to continue. "And when we figure all this out and everything settles through, the only place you'll be wanting to be at is my bedroom." Your grip tightens around his and you let out a huff of annoyance, a small smile gathering on your kissed red lips as James refuses to let you go as you try to tug your hands away.

"Okay," you agree, your eyelids fluttering shut as he lets go of one of your hands to cradle the side of your face instead. You tiredly reopen them and nearly gasp at the amorous look on his face, his pupils blown wide and the lightest shade of blue you've seen of them yet. "We'll wait and we'll take our time."

James leans back down once more, sliding his lips against yours in a slick and passionate kiss, before forcing himself to let you go and taking a step back. You pulse forward, every fiber in your being craving to be closer to a man you had just barely met, but felt like you already knew. Before you can overthink, a warm hand engulfs yours and gently tugs you forward. You fight back a shiver as a cold waft of air makes its way to your feet underneath the front door as you walk past it, and up the staircase. You let out a shocked bout of laughter as your feet are swept out from underneath you, and you relax against his chest as he carries you the rest of the way to your temporary room.

You hold back a sound of displeasure as you're placed back down and stepped away from again, a door only a few feet away from his a few inches away from you now. You swallow thickly and feel yourself flush as you watch James hungrily track the movement.

"Sweetheart, I need you to walk away from me first." You furrow your brows in confusion, before understanding. Fighting back the urge to step closer to him and grasp onto his solid warmth, you instead take a step back and grip onto his dress shirt instead.

"Goodnight." You murmur out, the electrified air that once surrounded you two downstairs, now feels stagnant and needy, hungry. James places his hands in his jean jacket and whispers the same sentiment, watching you slowly make your way into the guest bedroom, and even further away from the only person you currently wanted to be around.

You let out an exhausted sigh and run your hand against the wall until you find a light switch, automatically flinching as it's situated right in front of you and on top of a side table. You kick off the sweatpants and neatly fold them and place them on top of the dresser closest to the door, the ends of James' shirt falling down your thighs feeling like the ghost of his temporary and earlier touch.

You moan in relief once you situate yourself in bed and are under the covers, your nearly fully closed eyes snapping open and a tired smile encapsulating your entire face, as a gentle knock raps itself a few times against the wall separating the two of you. A gentle reminder that he was still there, and you two still had time. As you quickly find yourself falling asleep, the only words that come to mind are the words that you two had whispered to each other earlier, in your guys' first ever promise.

Make it work.

And to this day, I still wish for it to.

[ms-nesbit]

Title: cosmic (a jason todd x reader fic)

Chapter III of ???

Rating: 18+ (eventual smut, language, violence i guess, and mention of past abuse)

Tw: abuse, violence, and smut.

Summary: 

y/n meets dick and barbara, who try to set y/n up with dick’s big little brother.

ao3

“Perfect! Before you go, y/n, I have someone I’d like for you to meet.” Barbara smiled from ear to ear, somewhat different from her cheeky tone. “Y/n, this is Jason, Dick’s brother.” Y/n turned around to greet the man, only to find herself in the same predicament she was in a few minutes prior: her eyes at his chest. “And Jason, this is y/n. She just left New York with a degree in criminology and a distaste for the Gotham Police.” Barbara finished her sentence in a husher tone, attempting to avoid unwanted attention from the enforcement officers surrounding them.

“Ah!” Jason’s face beamed. “Pleasure to meet you, y/n. Have we met before?” His hazel eyes slowly scanned y/n’s outfit, causing her skin to flush. He took y/n’s hand and pressed it against his pink lips, his gaze never leaving y/n’s.

“Don’t be intimidated by the stature. Underneath the meathead look, he’s a decent guy.” Dick detailed, half-teasingly.

“Meathead? Don’t blame me because Wayne blessed me with his height.” Jason retorted, crossing his arms around his chest.

“We’re not even blood related!” Dick erupted in disbelief, drawing attention from a few folks around them. He ran his fingers through his gelled hair as he cooled off.

“If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be talking with the chief about some infrastructure planning for the coming parade next month.” Barbara stated, pulling the upset Dick by the arm as they fled the scene.

“So…” Jason began, stepping closer to y/n. “Have you gotten a tour of the zoo? Or just this area in particular?”

Y/n cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, because I’ve lived here for a few years with Bruce, so I can give you a pretty well-informed tour of the place, if you’re interested, of course.”

“Oh!” y/n realized what Jason was doing, and nodded. “You only lived here for a few years? How much of an expert could you really be?”

Jason flashed her a toothy smile. “Did I mention that those few years were my teenage years, when I was at my most delinquent and distant from abiding by Bruce's rules?”

“Okay, fine.” Y/n rolled her eyes, caving in to Jason’s adorable attempt at enchantment. 

Offering his elbow for y/n to take, the pair left the gala, heading toward a set of stairs toward the second floor. On their way, y/n took a chance to look up at the artwork on the ceiling, gawking at the intricate artistry. Jason, on the other hand, kept his eyes on y/n, unaware of the grin forming on his face.

“So what brings you here?” Jason finally breaks the silence as they make their way to the top of the staircase, helping y/n onto the second floor. Y/n placed her hand back on his arm, this time holding his large bicep. She felt the contour of the muscle through the blazer.

“Barbara and Dick invited me to the gala to meet-”

“No, not the gala, y/n,” Jason replied. “To Gotham. Why leave New York for Gotham ?”

Y/n hadn’t been honest with anyone about her departure from New York, and she wasn’t sure if this was the right time to start. She bit her bottom lip, unsure of how to answer. Before the anxiety engulfed her, Jason placed his hand over hers, gently rubbing the skin. “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it. We all have our skeletons.” He looked at her warmly, this time more emerald than stormy gray, and y/n felt the sun through the clouds in his irises.

“This building was constructed in the 1800s, if you were wondering.” He started, still caressing y/n’s hand that was placed on his bicep. “At least that’s what Alfred told me when I first came here.”

“He took care of you?” Y/n asked, turning to look up at Jason, who nodded.

“Yeah, he is more family than Bruce, honestly. But that’s neither here nor there. Shall we?” Jason extended his free arm toward a single door that was marked ‘Do Not Enter!’ in bright red letters, its modern lettering standing out from the old decor of the door and trim. Letting go of y/n’s hand, Jason stepped toward the door, lifting the door slightly before turning the handle and opening the door with a click. “Right this way.” He nudged, grinning mischievously as he held the door open for y/n.

“Are we allowed in here?” y/n asked nervously as she stepped into the room, looking around at the posters hanging on the walls.

“Whose room do you think this is?” Jason scoffed. “Besides, what are Bruce and Dick gonna do if we’re in this room, kick us out?” He took a seat on the computer chair, lifting his feet onto the desk beside it, and interlocking his fingers behind his head. Y/n stood awkwardly, deciding on taking a seat on Jason’s old bed, which gave a rather rude creak when she sat on it. “See? Isn’t this a little bit better?”

Y/n wanted to disagree, given how little she’s known about this man, and how he is alone with her in a place where nobody else knows her - if she goes missing, there wouldn’t be any leads. In any other circumstance, y/n would have made an excuse to flee, pulled the red string to sound the alarm, anything;

Yet this wasn’t any other circumstance. For some reason, she trusts Jason, and is willing to yank the walls down to allow for his entry. After years of contempt for the opposite sex, y/n felt as comfortable as she was prior to…

“I feel okay.” y/n replied curtly. “But if this was your room, what are all these posters doing up?”

“What do you mean?” Jason rested his hands on his lap now, sitting up.

“ Movements? Tigers Jaw? The Misfits? Someone had a very angsty teenhood, if you ask me.” Y/n propped herself up on her arms, which were placed behind her. She crossed her legs, the fabric of the pencil skirt hiking up a bit. Jason withheld the temptation of glancing at her legs, heat rising to his cheeks as she spoke.

Instead, he tempted her, shimmying off the blazer to present his frame through his red button-up top. “You a fan?”

“Being from Ohio, I’m a fan of Midwestern Emo,” y/n started, “and The Misfits are just classic, but what I am a bigger fan of is the fact that you have some Stevie Nicks albums hiding under your PC cabinet there.” She pointed her chin at the lowest shelf of the desk, where two albums were discreetly hidden away from plain sight. While Jason reached over to retrieve the items, y/n caught a glimpse of his shoulders, muscles teasing her through the thin fabric. If she wasn’t so scared of vulnerability, she would have torn it off so see what was underneath the cotton blend.

“Hm.” He smirked at y/n, his gray streaks falling past his forehead and onto his eyes. “Pretty woman has brains and good eyes. What’s your deal?”

Y/n couldn’t help but blush at the remark, but played it off with a shrug. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours first.”

[leclerced]

maybe i’m just in a mood where violence turns me on but

LANDO ACTUALLY FIGHTING A CUSTOMER because they kept coming back and bothering reader (some sleazeball flirting with her) he even pulled up when instagram which is easy to find thanks to not one but 2 famous bfs and reader is like crying about it and lando stops by one day for lunch (let’s make believe they have a house in texas now because gf is in like nasa field or sum) and she is like OBVIOUSLY upset and seems riddled with anxiety and keeps looking around and he is like “what’s wrong” and she tells him and he’s like “oh he’s right over there?” and he climbs out of the car and before reader can even stop him he is at the guys window and he has already gotten 2 good hits in. oscar is not proud of them and after they talk to the police and the man decides not to press charges as long as they don’t press charges for harassment reader is very horny. as disappointed as oscar may be , he has to admit lando sweaty with blood on his lip does something to a guy. disappointed or not.

-🪼🪼🪼

osc would be soo disappointed n lando would feel really bad only bc of that. he stands by his decision but he def wouldn’t do it again. oscar would have preferred going a legal route and having a restraining order drawn up or smth but he gets over it pretty quickly in favor of tending to lando’s cut.

[coolbeanzeaglbones]

Who starts more fanfics when she knows she's in over her head? Me! Who is writing a murder mystery fanfic about the Aquabats? Me! Me! Me!

The cops are a bit useless. In a world of heroes, they always call upon them to do their job. That's how the Aquabats got stuck looking around for evidence for a mass murder case.

Ricky would usually stay in the battletram, as would Crash while the others would look around the bloody crime scenes for evidence.

This murder happened in the alleyway, the woman’s guts were strewn about her body, cops taking down random things, waiting for the heroes.

Right on cue, the other three, Jimmy, the commander and Eaglebones walked into the alleyway.

The commander turned away, this was the most grizzly one yet. Eaglebones tried to wear an okay face, but Jimmy could tell he was internally screaming.

The police chief crossed over to the, “Aquabats, thank goodness you're here.” The commander sounded tired, “Yeah, yeah, Jimmy scan the area.”

Jimmy obliged and began to do what they had done every time they were called to one of these scenes. The commander would look for clues, sometimes just staring at stuff. Eaglebones would actually be trying to figure out what happened, as he hated doing this because it “felt evil” to be there.

But this time was a bit different. The commander was talking with the chief, normally what Eaglebones would do, “So there's no cameras?”

“No, we don't even know who the victim is, she didn't have any identification on her. We're going to do DNA testing.”

“Uh-huh uh Bones, what are you doing?”

Eaglebones looked like he was having a conversation with the wall, “Her name is was, sorry, Leslie Templar and she was walking home when he attacked.” Jimmy looked concerned, “There's no one there, kid.”

“Not a kid,” he went up to the commander, “okay, so, can you go out into the sidewalk?”

The commander did so and went to walk past the alley, “Okay, so, she was grabbed,” he grabbed the commander by the back of his shirt and dragged him into the alleyway, keeping a hand over his mouth, “up to the wall,” he kept glancing back at the opposite wall as if he was looking at someone, “and before she could scream,” he did a slashing down motion, “neck slash,” let go of the commander and mimed throwing him to the ground, “and you know what happens next.”

The cops were staring at him, “Did you see his face?”

Silence.

“He was wearing a Purge mask, okay, and are you sure it was a linoleum ripper?”

Jimmy looked concerned, but the cop wrote down what he was saying.

As the cops were busy, they slowly inched out of the alley and ran down the street back to the battletram. Jimmy was starting to be concerned for his two friends.

They hadn't been sleeping that well because of nightmares of the killer and the corpses and anxiety of ‘what if the killer comes to the battletram and murders us?’

Yeah, wasn't fun. Luckily, Crash and Ricky were blissfully oblivious to the severity of the situation.

It was the middle of the night when they were called, so the other two were asleep. They quietly slipped into the battletram, the warmth of the heating system washing over them and the cold being replaced with overwhelming tiredness, “How much sleep have you two gotten over the last week?”

Eaglebones laughed a bit, “Sleep? Oh, that friend is wandering over the hills in the distance. Just out of reach.”

“What?”

“I'm fucking tired, Jimmy.” Jimmy recoiled at the tenseness of Eaglebones’ voice. The commander giggled. He got very giggly when he was really exhausted, “Wandering over the hill.” He got out through fits of laughter.

Jimmy gazed at the two, who were now both giggling like school girls, “You guys okay.”

The both of them stopped for a second before just saying, “No.” Unanimously and starting to laugh once more.

Jimmy already had a plan in his mind.

“You guys want some water?”

He didn't wait for an answer, he just grabbed both of them but the arm and led them to the kitchen. He was going to drug them into sleep.

I know I know, that's totally a garbage move, but Jimmy didn't know what to do. So he just gave them some water that had sedatives in it and waited for them to get sleepy and just let them go to sleep on the couch.

Jimmy knew it was taking a large mental toll on them, but what else could they do? They were getting paid for this, it wasn't like they could stop.

Jimmy could only hope that the killer was caught soon, or else there would be a lot of nights like this.

Jimmy hates the cops.

It's from Jimmy's point of view.

[13thdoctorposts]

Sacha Dhawan Panel Part 1

Please note this IS NOT word for word, but so you can get a general gist of the panel.

Whovians of all ages got to ask him questions.

This post is just Sachs’s part of the panel there is a seperate post for Michelle’s panel and Michelle and Sacha’s panel.

How do you over come embarrassment?

Being part of Doctor Who, I do think I struggled with quiet a bit of anxiety and I kept it quite private, but weirdly doing Doctor Who allowed me over come it a little bit probably because of the nature of the character where he’s gotta do these confident crazy things so you throw yourself in the deep end. But it immediately felt, being a part of Doctor Who it’s such a welcoming community, not just you guys but also the people who make it. I felt they allowed me to over come my anxiety a little bit. It’s not that it will ever go away but I was just encouraged to be bold and fearless and yes I was doing it in my performance but it made me realise with my anxiety in real life those who are suffering from anxiety lose confidence in themselves so I guess playing the Master allowed me to find my confidence again and not really care to much about being embarrassed and embrace it and from that magic can happen.

So you just met the greatest Master of all time, she just left the stage

Sacha: Oh wow, 😂

What was it like following her?… I mean you are like the second greatest.

Sacha: before Doctor who, yeah I was an actor but I felt like the average guy on the street, when you get the call saying not only are you coming into Doctor Who but your coming into play this iconic character, it’s absolutely terrifying and initially your like how am I going to do that, where do I start? And then people are telling you oh do you know who played him before, people like Michelle, Derek Jacobi, Eric Roberts, John Simm and then I’m like… me? This dude? (Points to himself) so it’s really nerve racking so I started watching little bits and then I though ok I’m not going to be as imaginative if I just think about all of that, I have to approach it like I would any role and over the last couple of years I’ve tried to be just be bold and make crazy choices and sometimes it doesn’t work and that’s cool cos something even better happens. So once I let go of the prestige of the role it really freed me up and I had a lot of support from the creators to put my own stamp on it which they kindly asked me to do it. And it’s only now having done it and stepped off the Whoniverse that you can really take it in sometimes, I’m like how did I do all that, you know from getting the costume to being in the TARDIS, to working with Jodie, having some of those intense scenes. I look back and I think was that me that did that, so yeah it feels great to be able to be a part of it and sitting with you guys.

What was it like going from something like Doctor Who into something like Wolf?

Sacha: It was actually the producer of Doctor Who who was working on it. It’s great I always like to keep challenging myself and playing different people, that’s what I really get excited about a project where I go, that person is completely different to me, I have a moment of panic and wonder how am I gonna play it, I love the idea of just chipping away at it and the ahhhh… that, that’s who that person is. Whether it be a psychopath or a police officer, I think the more complex they are or the more challenging they are going into it the more exciting I find it. Even with the Master I always try to find some truth in it. With the Master I was really interested in the relationship with the Doctor I think that was the real kind of hook point for me.

Moderator: You master was the first time where I actually thought the Doctor might not get out of it, even with Simms you know the Doctor would figured it out but I honestly didn’t see how it was going to happen. That was the terrifying part of your portrayal

Sacha: I was chatting to Chris about it, I felt what I liked about playing the Master, well my version, he was already in such a dark place he had nothing left to lose so it was like to die for the cause and bring down the Doctor with him then it was a win for him so that made him utterly terrifying.

Do you think you can take me on? (Kid is dressed as Darth Vader)

I think you could take me on actually, I’m a bit scared of you.

Does the 4 heartbeat tap on the microphone

Sacha: oh yeah the tap

Moderator: now your scaring me

Sacha: I’m not sure if I want to take you on or to be your best friend

Does the 4 heartbeat tap on the microphone

Moderator: I think that’s psychological warfare

You’ve played a lot of different characters which did you enjoy playing the most and why?

Sacha: I’d probably say the Master actually, it’s the only character I’ve played that has such an emotional range, and then he also appears in so many different time periods, there was so much range to play and also the character has so much fun doing it so yeah playing the Master. Even going back to do the Centenary Special I couldn’t wait to get back into it again.

Did you come up with the choreography for Rasputin on the spot and by yourself? And did you enjoy it?

Sacha: I did yeah, I didn’t plan anything I was gonna do I just couldn’t wait, it was such a big scene. Such an emotionally charged scene. Between me and you I was in London and I was listening to that song constantly just kind of like jamming out, feeling it on the tube so when they played the music, what’s amazing when we came to do the scene filming in the amazing studio and they blasted it through huge speakers so you couldn’t help but just go for it and you know, listen, you put me in front of an audience and I’m going to throw some serious shapes, I loved it and I’m really glad people responded to it as well.

Sacha who do you like better Daemon (the moderator) or Michelle?

Moderator: easy answer

Sacha: You know what, we did the zoo interview, it was lovely doing that interview because we were in lockdown and everything. I can say this now I was a little bit intimidated meeting Michelle, it’s the first time we’ve meet and even though I’ve played the Master, I’m just like the average guy now and I think my god she played Missy! So I think I adore you both. But coming away this, being in NZ I’ve come away with a little soft spot for Michelle I think she’s so sweet.

Given that you’ve been able to travel around the world and meet a bunch of different people have there been any colloquialism that you grew up with that you’re surprised aren’t else where and are there any in NZ that you don’t know or understand?

I think it’s amazing that I’m literally on the other side of the world and I think you guys really get British culture don’t you? It feels oddly like I’m home from home.

Moderator: we’re still part of the commonwealth remember…

Sacha: oh yeah… I don’t know are there some colloquialism that I should know?

Moderator: um…. yeh, nar… sweet as…

Sacha: what other colloquialism are there let’s hear them

Moderator: Yeh, Nar… which is yes, no but then there Nar, Yeh, or we might go Yeh, Nar, Yeh.

Questioner: it means whatever the last word is

Moderator: Sweet as

Sacha: Sweet ass 🤨

Moderator: no not sweet ass, sweet as, like in sweet as sweet thing

Sacha: oh sweet as, I get that

Moderator: chur bro

Sacha: Cheers?

Moderator: no Chur, it’s like a cheers, or a sweet as. Now the word mate

Sacha: I say mate a lot

Moderator: mattttte, Nar mate, now what else have we got?… it’s gone to custard. A nik minute.

Sacha: nik minute? 🤨

Moderator: there was their guy who was a bit of a skateboarder and he said “I took my scooter to the Dairy and went inside nik minute someone stole it” and it became this meme, and now it’s a thing.

What do you think are the motivations for your Master?

Sacha: in terms of the story?

Yeah

Sacha: For me it was the timeless child and all of that and realising the Doctor wasn’t really one of us, and was regarded as so special when it felt like it should have been me. So that, the origins of all of that was really the main motivation. And like I was saying earlier I’d already lost so much I really got nothing else to lose so why not go out with a bang. So I think one of the motivations was to create chaos and even though it seems kind of messy, underneath it all it was extremely organised and it felt like the Master, even though he presents himself as chaotic there’s a lot of… he’s incredibly intelligent underneath all that, so there’s so many different things and the relationship with the Doctor was a huge part of it for me, you may have noticed it was very playful, chaotic, but for me it was very emotionally charged as well, so those things together were a really interesting concoction.

Moderator: here’s a question for the audience, doesn’t the timeless child mean that prior to the timeless child’s existence the gallifreyans couldn’t regenerate? Doesn’t that mean technically the Doctor created your ability to regenerate? How did that happen? Were you subjected to a bunch of experiments and injected with DNA?

Sacha: so partly yes, that’s the thing, they are strangely connected in a way, the thing that really frustrated me (as in the Master) was like the part of her in me, in terms of our story anyway so I was really frustrated.

With your master I got a a vibe of split personality, mentally unstable did you approach the role with a mental health spin to it?

Sacha: I think the character is certainly complex so I wasn’t afraid of leaning into that to be honest, I think I found it really trusting and made him very bold, imaginative, intelligent I couldn’t label him as one specific thing but I utilised a range of different things and just made sure not to be afraid of going there and I did want people to feel slightly intimidated by him.

You came across as really unhinged but when you’re watching it, it’s almost like you kinda feel for the guy but at the same time he’s destroying the universe.

Sacha: yeah, that’s the thing I wanted that and by the end of it you kind of realise he’s just a damaged young boy really

He just needs a hug

Sacha: yeah, lol, that’s really the stem of it I think, he’s totally unloved and incredibly lonely I think, his purpose is to constantly chase the Doctor and once the Doctor was out of the picture and he was the Doctor it didn’t really give him the happiness that he thought it was going to be because he had nothing to chase anymore.

Iron fist is the first time I remember seeing you on screen how did you get the role and how did it feel to became part of the marvel universe?

Sacha: yeah it was amazing, when you audition for Marvel you don’t it’s Marvel because they are really secretive they give you dummy sides, the script is made up, so it’s only until you get later down the process you get “it’s the new marvel show” and I did this thing where they said to me how is your martial arts, and I said it’s amazing and I had never ever even done any martial arts in my life and the most embarrassing thing happened I was in New York and my screen-test, my final audition for iron fist and it went ok and then they said oh before you leave our big stunt coordinator wants to see your martial arts and I thought oh my god, and asked them to give me 5 minutes so I could go get my trainers and I was thinking what do I do. And guys if you could have seen me in that test, when you’re under that much pressure because you want the part, you should have seen the kicks, (demonstrates on stage… they are terrible, lol) and I could see the stunt coordinator was like this guy can’t even throw a kick, but I was filming Sherlock at the same time with Benedict Cumberbatch and we had a fight scene and I had footage on my phone so I showed him that, and asked him to just give me the chance, I’ll learn, and luckily he gave me the chance and I learnt, I spent about a year or so learning. It was amazing.

Did you get really recognised after that?

Sacha: yeah I did a little bit, it’s such a big franchise, it was the first step into me being able to play characters I never thought I would be able to play, I always thought I’m always going to be limited by how I look, we don’t really get to play those kinds of interesting parts, I think the world is shifting slightly so to be able to play a marvel villain or the Master in Doctor Who it’s pretty iconic. And it’s only when I get to chat to your guys I think oh wow, and I feel so incredibly honoured to be a part of two amazing universes.

Who’s your favourite Doctor?

Sacha: My favourite Doctor? I really like Matt Smith. I think he’s great.

Audience: what about Jodie?

Sacha: Jodie is amazing. But if I had to work with another Doctor I’d say Matt Smith I think he’s again, he’s so playful and so sharp I’d love to be able to do scenes with him he’s such a good actor and a really nice guy.

If you had your own TARDIS and the chameleon broke what would you like your TARDIS to be stuck as?

Sacha: I don’t know, I’d have to think on what that would be… I don’t think a police box can be topped honestly.

Moderator: I’d go with a kombi

Sacha: or a mini like Mr Bean drives

Do you have any funny behind the scenes stories?

Sacha: they told me everything was really secretive (on Doctor Who) and I didn’t tell anybody anything and I was also filming a show called Dracula at the same time and I went to dinner with Steven Moffatt and in my head I just presumed he would be working on the show and I must admit my knowledge of Doctor Who was a little lacking and so somethings I didn’t realise the importance of, so we’re having dinner and he said “oh you’re filming Doctor Who” and I was like “yeah yeah yeah, I’m doing Doctor Who they’ve given me this like tissue compressor eliminator thing, you know” and I could see in his face he was like oh my god he’s playing the Master, and I didn’t realise, then I got a call from the BBC saying “could you not be telling people” “I was like yeah but it Steven and they were like yeah but he doesn’t work on the show anymore” So yeah I gave it away some.

Moderator: so you’re the Tom Holland of the Doctor Who universe.

Sacha: yeah, lol

I love The Great, we’re a little behind here in New Zealand, but I thought Rasputin was even funnier because of the link to The Great. Was there actually a link did they do it deliberately?

Sacha: no, there wasn’t, I remember reading it and thinking god there’s such a connection, but no, I think Chris always felt Rasputin would be.. is the perfect kind of Master, the perfect kind of person for me to be disguised as, he’s quite evil, quite manipulative, so yeah it was pure coincidence.

Do you have any any weird or funny fan interaction?

Sacha: they have all been pretty good, I think I had in a picture line up someone said can I pick you up, is it alright if I carry you and I was like “yessss please”. The fan interactions, were the one thing people spoke about but didn’t quite prepare me for is just the community and the fan base is so amazing on Doctor Who and it’s like on Twitter if anyone says a bad word, I don’t have to do anything because I’ve got my own security! Everyone’s great, I’ve had great fan interaction.

That’s it for part 1 of Sacha’s Panel, part 2 will be up soon, and I promise Part 2 will be worth the wait.

Also if you ever defended our little Spy Master on Twitter he’s seen you and appreciates you!

If you wanna know what went down in the other panels they are linked below

Michelle

Michelle and Sacha

VIP Panel

[shebadfuckk]

I’m gunna start keeping a dream journal on here. My dreams are insanely vivid, and I wake up more tired than when I went to bed. They often feel more real than real life does. Last nights’ was no exception.

I went to the salon to get my makeup and my hair done because I had a big event coming up. I patiently waited my turn as I watched other women before me get transformed. One specifically stood out to me. She has gorgeous black hair and her makeup looked flawless. I started chatting with her and found she helped manage a bunch of artists and I was shocked and excited to potentially make a new friend.

As I was getting my makeup done there was this weird guy in the salon, and he was talking to me and I was just being nice to him. Somehow, he led me into his car and I don't remember how or why. I feel really stupid for getting in the car now, (as if it’s real) but he was so convincing in whatever he said and seemed just so kind.

In the car, I remember feeling slightly anxious and like maybe I shouldn’t have gotten into a car with him, but the full reality wasn’t hitting me yet . I asked him a couple of questions about himself and he seemed to dodge them. Which heightened my anxiety.

He drove to this weird office building/ apartment complex but it was super empty. No cars in the parking lot, but there was a building off to the side that seemed slightly populated and I took a note of that.

As we kept talking I was realizing he was avoiding all my questions. I slowly started to realize I was in a strange city with a strange man, all by myself. I asked him if he wouldn’t mind driving me back to the salon because my purse was there and I had forgotten it and he dismissed the question again with a laugh. That’s when it really set in. I was being kidnapped. I hadn’t realized it before, because he was being so nice and nonchalant and it just happened so slowly.

It was scaring me that I had left all of my stuff in the salon because I really wanted my phone . I didn't realize I had my phone in my back pocket. We walked down to the parking lot of the (warehouse?). I kept asking him, “So can you take me home now? Can you take me back to the salon? I really have to get ready to be at this game by three o'clock.”

He just kept avoiding that question with more authority that scared me. I noticed a man walking out from the other building and then a split second I realize this could be my only chance to get help. I immediately screamed and ran towards him “HELP ME HELP HEEEELP IM BEING KIDNAPPED HELP PLEASE”

I watched his face sort of change when he realized what I was saying, and it sunk in. His walk turned into a jog towards my aggressor, which gave me enough of a distraction to bolt. I ran until I saw police car three of them from what I can remember. They had their lights on already, and I ran in the middle of the road trying to flag them down. They kept waving their hands like get the fuck out of the way and I was screaming. “I’ve been kidnapped , help!”

They kind of motioned in front of them where I then realize there was a huge three car pile up with what looks like fatalities . There was a car that had been burnt to bits and the others were completely crushed. I found this female officer that took note of me and ran up to her, telling her my story . ( this is where the dream gets kind of dream-y if you will.)

We were no longer in front of a car accident, but she was with this younger man who also wanted to help me and believed me.  she started telling me about how her daughter had been kidnapped and she died by the hands of her kidnapper and started describing traits about her daughter, like her beautiful black hair and something about how they never caught the kidnapper and that’s what made her become a cop. I kind of froze as she was describing her daughter, and I told her I had met someone very similar at the salon. When I said this, she froze up, saying the salon was the last place her daughter had been seen. She asked me to describe her and I did and we both sat there and silence as our descriptions perfectly aligned with each others’. At that moment, I had met her daughter’s ghost .

 at this point I had realized I had my phone in my pocket because of the slight sense of safety I felt I enough consciousness to realized the weight and shape of it. I took it out and immediately called my boyfriend.

When he picked up the phone, I frantically described to him my situation, and I was met with an eerily calm demeanor. I said “ please baby come and pick me up. I don’t even know where I am. I can send you my location. I been kidnapped please I need your help!”

The phone kind of started breaking up and he said he was already at the game and it almost seems like he didn’t take me seriously . I remember him a number of times and sending him text messages, but he didn’t meet me with the same sense of urgency that I had.

 I just couldn't believe that he wasn't going to come pick me up. Like it wasn't registering. And so then I knew I had to get home on my own.

We were driving aimlessly in the car because I had no clue where we were. But somehow we ended up back at the salon. I walked in ready for them to finish their job and do my hair because I still wanted to meet everyone at the game. When I saw they had just put the next client in the chair I was furious, but also realize they probably didn’t know what had happened although they should’ve paid closer attention if this had happened before. I’m never rude to businesses, but the adrenaline had taken over my body and I remember telling them “I was waiting here since this time and like, like I need my hair done. It's already 3.20. Like I was supposed to be somewhere at three” and they were being super rude to me. At this point, I looked in the mirror and realize how beautiful I looked. I had pastel pink and yellow eyeshadow that was very subtle, but complemented my eyes very well. My foundation and skin was flawless and I felt like a Barbie doll I remember thinking I had never had such a perfect make up job done on me.

I remember thinking my make up is so stunning that it doesn’t even matter if I do my hair so I just threw it up in a ponytail and left and that’s when I woke up.

[aftermathfanfic]

“She told you this, and you didn’t say anything?” Donald hissed furiously.

“I didn’t put any stock in it!” Scrooge whispered defensively. “Even if the Templars had been cultists, they’ve been disbanded for centuries! The castle’s been unoccupied since then!”

“You can’t just assume that!” Donald countered. He shook his head angrily, snarling, “Razzle, frazzling-! Every time I think you’ve learned-!”

“I know, Donald! Don’t think I’m not kickin’ myself!”Scrooge growled back at him.

Donald let go and folded his arms crossly. “So. What’s the plan now?” He demanded.

Scrooge took a moment to think about that.

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

Huey’s phone buzzed.

He looked over from the mass of plastic and wires he was tinkering on, sitting over on the ‘electronics’ section of his workbench. Della had retired a while ago, and it was just him and his projects now. He could comfortably stay up late tonight, since the weekend was tomorrow, and he was determined to spend these precious hours working on as many of his side projects as he could.

Again, his phone buzzed.

He checked it, seeing that the notification had come from his friends’ group chat.

Violet @Huey Duck. Hello. Just confirming that the office visit was uneventful. You didn’t come back to class, so we’ve been speculating on what happened.

Huey winced. He’d forgotten to tell his friends about Nickel. He wasn’t even sure if he should. It seemed like one of those things that only the family had to know about.

After a moment’s hesitation, he sent a reply.

Huey I’m okay. I wasn’t in trouble. It’s a bit of a weird situation though.

A moment passed, then his phone buzzed again.

Violet Weird in what way?

Huey sighed. Of course, Violet was going to be inquisitive. Oscar’s icon was showing up on the app now, meaning that he’d seen the messages too. All eyes were on him now.

He didn’t say anything at first. Anxiety held him back and kept him from responding, which he imagined was only concerning his friends further. He slowly typed out his next message, then hit send.

Huey Can you guys keep a secret? Violet With my life. Oscar nope if its something serious mate, then I don’t need to know about it. odds are good that I’ll accidentally blurt it out to someone Huey Ok

Huey switched over to a private chat with Violet, then began to type feverishly.

Huey Ok, so some FBI agent was in there and he wanted to talk to me about Scrooge He was really weird. He was doing that thing that police do when they’re overly friendly with a suspect to make him confess to something. He seemed to think that my uncle had done something wrong and that I could help him somehow. He didn’t tell my mom or Mrs Beakley or anyone else, so I didn’t have a guardian present, so I’m pretty sure that the whole thing was illegal. He asked me about what we were doing in Paris and what we were looking for. I think he either already knew why we were there or at least thought that he did. And he lost his temper and started shouting when I refused to answer his questions. He wasn’t very professional overall. His suit wasn’t buttoned up or pressed or anything. But the weirdest thing is that he specifically asked me questions about some of the artifacts we had in the Other Bin Which should be impossible, because nobody outside the family knows about it (Im assuming that Webby and Lena have told you about the Other Bin) I have no idea what he wants or what any of this means I don’t think any of the adults do either It's all just so confusing Anyway my mom took me home afterwards so that he wouldn’t get a chance to harass me again

Huey stopped texting and watched the screen anxiously for a reply. He saw an ellipsis symbol in the bottom, showing that Violet was texting back a reply. After a moment, it appeared on his screen.

Violet I see.

There was a pause before the next message.

Violet Your uncle definitely hasn’t done anything wrong? I’m not saying he’d commit a federal offence intentionally, but perhaps it’s something that his company has done? Huey I’m certain of it. That Scrooge hasn’t done anything wrong, anyway. Jeez, I really hope it isn’t the company. Violet What was the agent’s name? It might be worth searching him. Huey Agent Nickel. That’s a good idea, actually. Violet I can do some research of my own to assist you, if you want. This might not be something you can fight on your own. Huey Thanks Violet. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do to help us. At the moment, it’s too early to say. Violet Understood. Incidentally, we should probably delete these messages and keep discussions of this offline. If your uncle is under investigation, it would be a small matter for the FBI to acquire text messages that you’ve sent. Huey I think deleting messages from a chat is just a visual thing. It doesn’t remove it from the database. Violet You’re probably right, but it’s best to take precautions. Good luck, Huey.

No sooner than Violet had written out her last message that she began deleting her side of the conversation, each message replaced one by one with ‘message deleted’. Huey followed suit until there was not a trace of the exchange, only a wall of generic empty messages.

After a moment, he put his phone away and pushed the mass of electronics to the side. His project could wait. This was far more important.

Swiftly, he got out his laptop, a blank notepad, and a handful of pens, placing them all on his desk. Once the computer was booted up, he typed in ‘FBI agent Nickel’ into the search window, then hit enter.

He sighed irritably as he saw the first round of results. None of them were relevant, just references to some old case about a hollow nickel and a Cold War spy. The next page of results was equally useless, only tangentially related to his search terms.

Deciding to change his approach, Huey filtered the search results to display news articles. He wasn’t going to find FBI databases or a dossier with Nickel’s name on it, but perhaps he could find something in the news about a case Nickel was involved in.

The first page wasn’t useful to him. Neither was the second, nor the third. It was only when he got to the seventh page of results that he finally found something. A headline that gave him pause.

Terrorist pair extradited from UK; FBI director says ‘F.O.W.L.’s days are over’

Huey stared at the headline, slowly blinking in disbelief. He clicked on the article, opening it in a new window. No sooner than he did, he saw the image the article had at the top of the page and his beak fell agape in shock.

Nickel wasn’t in the photo. But front and centre was the Phantom Blot.

The Blot wasn’t looking at the camera, his back turned as he was being shoved inside a car by an FBI agent, amid a crowd of police, secret agents and journalists. Following closely behind him was that F.O.W.L. Egghead who seemed to work with him, looking around wildly and apparently arguing with one of the agents that was handling her. Both of them were handcuffed.

“What…?” Huey murmured, scrolling down to read more.

Today marks the official fall of the notorious terrorist organisation known as the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny (F.O.W.L.), as joint operation by the FBI and Interpol results in the capture and arrest of one of its most notorious members. Known as the Phantom Blot, this enigmatic figure is believed to have been among the highest-ranking leaders of the terrorists and is now set to serve a life sentence in Washington State Prison.

How had he never heard of this? Huey started to scroll deeper, his eyes glued on the screen. He didn’t even know F.O.W.L. had still existed during this time. None of their agents had come after them after the Library of Alexandria, not in all these years had they heard as much as a peep from F.O.W.L. Yet, here this article was, claiming that the Phantom Blot had been operating all the way up to 2022.

He kept reading all the way to the end of the article, pausing only to take note of a particular quote near the end of the article.

“I would like to thank the American Federal Bureau of Investigation, particularly Special Agent Nickel and Assistant Director Charleston, for their invaluable assistance in this operation.” Says Senior Agent Jacques Monroe. “This couldn’t have been done without them.”

Huey frowned, tapping his pen against his notepad. He quickly scribbled down, ‘Phantom Blot arrest – Agent Nickel and Assistant Director Charleston (FBI)’, then moved on.

Once he was done with the article, he returned to the search page and added ‘FOWL’ to his search terms.

He hit enter.

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

Galinha, Portugal

They had been navigating the underground dungeon of Castelo de Cristo for about ten minutes when Scrooge heard a voice behind him shout, “Look out!”

Scrooge yelped as Webby pulled him back, just in time for a scythe blade to come swinging past his face. He stumbled back as the scythe began swinging to-and-fro across the corridor, into and out of a pair of slits in the wall, with two more scythes swinging asynchronously behind it.

The whole party came to a stop behind him as Webby propped Scrooge back onto his feet. “Are you okay, dad?” She asked.

“Aye, aye.” Scrooge muttered, brushing himself off. “Don’t know how I didn’t spot that…”

“You need to be more careful!” Webby scolded him. “We’re in a ruin, remember?”

“I know, I know!” Scrooge growled irritably. He peered across to the other side of the corridor, noticing an empty iron torch sconce not too far behind the swinging scythes. “Hm…” He pointed over at it with his cane, saying, “There. I’d bet my bottom dollar that pulling on that sconce over there stops the trap.”

“Sweet.” May remarked, stepping forward towards the blades.

Immediately, she was stopped by Scrooge’s cane and Donald gripping her arm, crying, “What are you doing?”

“What? All we gotta do is weave between the blades and grab the switch that turns them off.” May explained. “Simple.”

“Yeah, even a simple deathtrap is called a death-trap!” Dewey exclaimed from behind her. “If we’re gonna turn it off, we want to do it without getting sliced by those things.”

May seemed to think about that for a moment. She stepped forward just a little, watching the blades as they swung back and forth.

She knelt down to the ground, picking up a stray brick from the ground. She threw it up and down a couple of times, apparently testing its weight.

Then, with a cry, she threw it up in the air, leapt up, and kicked it with all her might.

Like a bullet, the brick flew through the air, past each of the scythes as they were swinging across the corridor, and struck the sconce, shattering on impact. The iron torch-holder immediately swung around on a vertical axis, like a giant door handle, and each of the scythes instantly froze in place.

May turned back to the others, all of them staring at her with beaks agape.

“How’s that?” She asked with a smirk.

“Nicely done, lass!” Scrooge exclaimed proudly.

“That was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen!” Dewey gushed. “You gotta teach me how to do that!”

May beamed proudly.

Carefully, the family stepped around the scythe blades, ducking under the one in the middle, which had stopped moving right in the centre of the hallway. Once they were safely past them, they continued on their way to the end of the corridor, at which they found another wooden door.

Scrooge carefully pushed it open to the next room, revealing a hall with three dungeon cells on either side, each barred with iron. At the very end of the hallway was a wooden desk and another door that led straight ahead. Typical of a complex like this, with that immediately denoted trouble… but he’d been wrong before.

“Straight ahead?” Donald suggested, though he posed it more as a question.

“Aye.” Scrooge agreed, stepping carefully into the room.

They were about halfway through when Louie spoke up from behind, “Hey, June. I found another one.”

The party turned to see him kneeling down to pick something up from the floor. He stood up, holding another cigarette butt in his hand.

“Another one…” June mused.

“This deep into the dungeon?” Scrooge said concernedly.

June peered into the cell that Louie was standing next to. Reaching out, she pushed the cell door open, the set of bars swinging without so much as a squeak. Webby frowned and stepped into the cell with June, examining the hinges as June inspected the cell’s interior, which consisted of an old straw bed and a thick sheet of dust.

Or at least, so it seemed. As June was inspecting the hay bale, she called out what she found. “The hay here looks fresh. And the dust here’s been disturbed recently.”

“And these joints have been oiled.” Webby added, swinging the cell door back and forth to prove her point. “Like, recently oiled.”

“Someone else has been down here.” Louie breathed.

“That cannae be…” Scrooge muttered anxiously.

“Um…” June spoke up, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “There’s also, um… some of the hay here has blood on it.”

She held up a few strands of straw to show the rest. It was hard to see in the dim light, but Scrooge could just make out a few flecks of crimson upon the otherwise golden fibres.

“…Fresh blood?” Scrooge asked worriedly.

June shrugged, uncertain. “It’s not old.”

A blanket of silence fell upon the family as they considered the implications. Louie stepped back from the cell, his expression ill, muttering, “So- so, what now?”

Scrooge didn’t have an answer.

“…Give us a moment.” Donald muttered, taking Scrooge by the arm and leading him over to the other end of the hallway. Scrooge went with him, frowning as he thought to himself.

Once they were far enough from the kids, Donald whispered to him worriedly, “What do we do? If it isn’t just Goldie down here…”

“I know, I know…” Scrooge murmured.

“And blood? Do… you think Goldie got into trouble?”

Scrooge tapped the handle of his cane as he tried to think of a response.

She’s in danger. We need to hurry.

He opened his beak, then shut it tight. He knew what that voice was now, and he didn’t trust it.

“…Scrooge?” Donald asked concernedly.

“…I…” He said hesitantly. “I don’t think Goldie’s in trouble, no… but… she did mention something…”

“What?”

“She mentioned that she’d heard that there was a… cult… operatin’ out of this castle.”

“…What?”

“Aye. Claimed that they’d kidnapped a young lass, too. I thought it was impossible at the time, but now… I’m wonderin’ if I’d been wrong.”

Donald stared at him for a few seconds before grabbing Scrooge by the collar and pulling him into his face. “She told you this, and you didn’t say anything?” Donald hissed furiously.

“I didn’t put any stock in it!” Scrooge whispered defensively. “Even if the Templars had been cultists, they’ve been disbanded for centuries! The castle’s been unoccupied since then!”

“You can’t just assume that!” Donald countered. He shook his head angrily, snarling, “Razzle, frazzling-! Every time I think you’ve learned-!”

“I know, Donald! Don’t think I’m not kickin’ myself!”Scrooge growled back at him.

Donald let go and folded his arms crossly. “So. What’s the plan now?” He demanded.

Scrooge took a moment to think about that.

With a heavy sigh, he turned around and said loudly, “Kids!”

The kids approached them, all of them looking worried. Scrooge doubted that they hadn’t noticed the argument, but that wasn’t important.

“Hey, uh, I don’t know if I’m…” Louie started to say apprehensively.

“I know, lad.” Scrooge told him reassuringly. Turning to the rest, he said sternly, “Right, kids… I’ve spoken with Donald, and somethin’ definitely wrong here. Someone dangerous is down here, and… well, we don’t know if it’s safe to continue.”

“Are… are we turning back?” Webby asked disappointedly.

“…Not yet.” Scrooge told her. Pointing at the next door with his cane, he explained, “I’m going to scout ahead down there. The rest of you will stay behind here. If I’m not back in exactly twenty minutes,” He said loudly as the kids started to protest. “Then Donald will take you back to the hotel. Do not wait for me.”

“But what if something happens to you?” Dewey exclaimed.

“I’ll be fine.” Scrooge assured him. “Whatever happens, I’ll find me way out. What’s important is that you keep yourselves safe. Understand?”

Webby, Dewey and Louie didn’t answer, all of them looking uneasy. May and June simply looked at each other gravely, then nodded at Scrooge.

Scrooge turned to Donald. “You remember the way back?” Scrooge asked.

“…Yeah.” Donald replied, clearly also uneasy.

Scrooge turned back to his family. “Twenty minutes.” He reminded them. “I’ll be fine.”

With that, he made his way over to the door beside the desk, opening it and stepping inside. He turned back to his family and gave them one last confident smile before closing it on their worried faces.

He turned around, his bravado vanishing to be replaced with grave determination. He took out his pocketwatch, memorised the time, and then began to trapse forward, holding his cane tightly.

He kept his eye on the floor, scanning the stone tiles for any more evidence of trespassers. Eventually, he came to a T-intersection in the corridor, both directions looking identical to the other.

He turned left.

That corridor led him to a flight of stairs, which in turn led him down to another intersection, with a path going straight ahead, and another branching off to his right. Looking between the two routes, he spied something on the floor, a few feet in front of him. Approaching it, he saw that it was a flip-phone of some kind, broken, like it had been stepped underfoot. Kneeling down and picking it up, he saw that the back of it had been plastered over with colourful stickers.

Heard from some of the people here that a girl went missing ‘bout a week ago. Apparently, she disappeared scaling the cliffs near the castle.

He should’ve listened to Goldie.

Cursing under his breath, he stood up and started to make his way down the corridor before him. The corridor took him through two larger rooms, the first one being a square chamber with scorch marks across the walls, and the second being a long, wide corridor with sets of floor spikes popping in and out of the tiles at regular intervals. These were dummy rooms, Scrooge realised, rooms that had no purpose other than to trap intruders. Goldie must have set them off.

Scrooge navigated the traps easily. Whatever trap had caused the scorch marks had either been discharged or disabled, and the pattern the spike trap followed was predictable. At the end of the gauntlet was a corridor, from which Scrooge could feel a draft of cool nighttime air.

Confused, he followed the corridor to the end, leading him to an open door that led outside. Stepping out, Scrooge found himself on the cliffs surrounding the castle, the wind whistling ominously through his feathers. Beside the exit was a crumpled tarp covered with dirt, grass and roots – camouflage, that once covered this door.

Scrooge looked back and forth along the cliffs, frowning. Why had Goldie taken this path out of the castle?

She hadn’t, he suddenly realised. This was the way she’d come in.

Scrooge spun around and started running back the way he’d come, cursing himself all the way. They hadn’t been following Goldie. All this time, they’d been following someone else, someone who wanted to be followed. They’d walked right into an ambush, and Scrooge had been too blind to see it.

He darted effortlessly through the spike trap room and the scorched room, stumbling as he threw his back out with his pace. Gritting through the pain, he forced himself to keep running, making his way up to the second intersection.

He skidded to a stop.

There were three figures in front of him.

Scrooge held himself upright on his cane, panting as he stared at the men before him. They weren’t wearing dark robes, nor did they have occult tattoos, but they were definitely the cultists Goldie had mentioned to him. He could see it in their eyes. They each wore trousers and button-up shirts, as well as what looked to be steel necklaces buried into their navels.

One of them was pointing a hunting rifle at him.

The gunman stepped forth. He was a rooster with pale brown feathers and a cigarette hanging limply in his mouth. “Bem-vindo à Catedral de Baphomet, Americano.” He drawled coldly, speaking Portuguese before switching to English. “You’re coming with us.”

Scrooge glanced past them, towards his family. The cultists noticed, chuckling darkly as one. “Do not concern yourself with them. You should be more worried about you.”

“What have you done to my family?” Scrooge snarled.

“They are not for us to do with.” The leader replied with an evil smirk. “They belong to the Bulezau now.”

[maryannecrimsworth]

Sweet Dreams

gif belongs to @tvandfilm

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11

Guide for tormented hearts

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Selective Mute! Reader

Warnings: flashback in italics, violence, mention of past trauma,

Summary: Having a sleepover in Wednesday's room was stressful enough, but having a sleepover with her and Enid was...you don't even had a word for it. Somehow, you ended up being interviewed by Enid. And, somehow, you felt Wednesday's hands involving yours in the middle of the night.

Some reader's characteristics: R has anxiety disorder, selective mutism, and is a really unique type of outcast. Reader's background it's derived from my Wednesday fic, The Hunt.

x

The picture shown to you was deserving of an award. It was theatrical, poetic, medieval. It showed a boy hooded, half naked, with his exposed skin painted red with the letter "A".

Any normal teenager would associate it with a popular series, and fear the one who pranked the hooded boy. However, the few who knew the true meaning behind the letter, knew that it was a punishment.

Surprisingly, Enid belonged to the second group, and her gossip blog was used to share the truth about the pranked boy — there weren't files or proof of what he had done, you didn't leave any on the scene. You know that the rumors about why a popular jock was hanged and mocked like this would ruin him — that's why you did it. Still, Wednesday complained about how merciful you were. For a second, you thought she was the one who told Enid to post about all the truth about the boy, but Wednesday seemed as surprised as you with her sudden arrival.

"OMG!" She gasped, running over to you both. "Did you guys see this? I still can't believe it!" The she-wolf showed you an Instagram post with the photo of the boy hanged. "Don't pity him though, Divina knows the guy and....well, let's say someone was really angry at him."

You couldn't help but chuckle.

"Do you think it's funny?"

Yes.

You said nothing, but Wednesday did.

"It's silly. I doubt anyone understood it."

"They will." Enid added right away. "I made sure of it and also...the guy felt so humiliated that he started to confess!" She was a bit too excited about it. "He bullied some kids from Nevermore too. Hank will be very busy because of him." Wednesday's eyes widened. "A bunch of older victims gathered the courage to accuse him too!" Enid cheered. "It's a bad guy paying for his crimes." The she-wolf seemed too happy about it, and both you and Wednesday watched in her silence for a brief moment. "We should know who did it."

You stepped away immediately, and Wednesday’s gaze followed you.

"Why is that?" She asked Enid, her eyes still on you as you walked away.

"Well, first, they committed a crime too, so the police will be looking for them." She argued, voice more steady and controled now. "Second, they deserved an award for their courage! I mean, it was a great idea! Efficient, cruel just enough." Enid suddenly stepped towards Wednesday. "Please don't tell anyone I said this."

"Do I look like I'd?"

Enid rolled her eyes and finally directed her attention to you. "Y/N!" She called you. "What do you think?"

It was hard for you to keep a blank face. In a dangerous act, you tilted your head in Wednesday's direction and smirked.

"No!" Enid jumped over to Wednesday. "You did not!"

"How dare—" She tried to hiss at you, but Enid grabbed her shoulders.

"How did you know it?" The she-wolf inquired. "OMG! You gotta tell me everything!"

"I'll kill you." She roared at your direction while Enid walked her to her colored side of the room.

"Please, please, I have to post it!"

"No."

"But—"

"I'm offended by your belief that I truly made such a harmless plan." She shoved Enid away with a cold glance and walked towards you slowly, following you by the room as you kept trying to flee. "I'd have done worse. Much worse." She finally cornered you. Wednesday stood so close to you that you weren't able to see Enid anymore. You weren't able to seek help anymore. "Y/N did it."

You held your breath instinctively — if you breathed wrong, Wednesday could kill you. And if you looked at her wrong, she would kill you.

Your gaze was locked on hers; you could not dare to contemplate the smirk on her lips or the freckles on her cheeks; you could not dare to follow the trace of her jawline or watch how softly her bang moved. If you did it right now, you did not know what the consequences would be.

However, Wednesday wasn't so cautious. Her gaze fell to your lips immediately, and her smirk grew wickedly as she watched your features twisting in stir and confusion.

"Please tell me everything!" Enid pumped up beside you and you jumped in reflex. Your eyes finally left Wednesday's. "Please! I promise I'll leave you anonymous but I have to know everything about that guy." Enid held your hand and pulled you away from the goth girl. "I want everyone to know what he had done."

You glanced at Wednesday for a brief second, not trying to get allowance, but to know why she did it, why she revealed you.

She wanted you to be friends with Enid too? Or was it a little revenge for your silly action?

Either way, it despaired you; You were sweating under Enid's careful touch.

She was glancing at you with expectation, and part of you knew Hank would never approve it.

But Hank didn't approve anything.

So you shook your head.

X

The interview with Enid turned out to be a slumber party. While she giggled and gasped at your short responses, Thing helped her to build...something. A fortress, you guessed, made of colorful blankets. Half of it was pink and yellow, the other half was black and white. You stood in the middle, unsure of where to go.

"So you found him drunk in the street and took your chance?" She asked after laying on the padded floor. "It was spontaneous like that?"

You shook your head, but it was Wednesday who replied. Your surprise by her voice was so great that you stepped back and watched her carefully.

"Y/N told me about the plan before we found him."

"So you found the douche in the street together?"

"Yes." She replied, unaware of where Enid wanted to get.

You were.

"So you were walking together? Like a date?"

You stepped away once again. You didn’t want to stand between the two girls right now.

"We spent the night together." Enid gasped, but Wednesday went on. "Investigating."

"I thought Hank was your partner in crime."

"Not anymore."

Not anymore. So you were. You were her partner.

You clutched your hands and grabbed your own arms, scratching yourself at distance from them both.

"Are you done with your questions?"

"No."

Wednesday stared at Enid, but the she-wolf didn't back away.

"Does Hank know about it?"

"Hank's a suspect."

You could no longer hear them. Your nervousness and excitement turned to anger in less than a second; you stormed out of the room with silent steps.

"What?"

"He's been lying to all of us."

Wednesday could only hear you closing the window to the balcony. Enid, Thing, and Wednesday watched you walking purposely and climbing over the rail.

A chill ran over Wednesday's body for a moment; she froze, and her chest stopped beating with the thought of what you could do. But you remained motionless, simply sat over the parapet, fingers tapping the concrete nervously.

You knew he was a suspect — it was obvious — you had no reason to react like this. No reason at all. 

Still, you ran away from her like you did after arguing with Hank. Like you were angry and offended, upset. Why would you—

"Wednesday." Enid's voice stopped her train of thought. She glanced at the she-wolf abruptly, her expression flushed and confused like her roommate had never seen. "Go talk to him."

Silently, Wednesday followed the advice and walked to the balcony with loud steps. Behind her, Thing started to sign to Enid with hushed gestures.

"Y/N"

"What's your family like?" You shot at her; You didn't give her the chance to approach you, you didn't even turn to talk to her. She walked towards you before answering.

"Smothering and embarrassing."

"So they love you." Your voice didn't sound affected, nor angry. It sounded distant. "They love you." You whispered, and Wednesday wouldn't have listened to you if she hadn't just sat by your side.

Your head was turned to the sky darkening, your feet moved in the air as your fingers tapped the rail.

Where were you?

"I could say it's my dream." You said suddenly, low voice and eyes on the heavens. "To have a family like this."

"You don't know them."

"I know you." Your head dropped, but you didn't look back at her. "And I....I think..." Your voice was disappearing. "I think you are..." Wednesday noticed how red your face turned one moment before you shook your head and moved away from her. "I had a family too." You said with more strength in your tone. "After my father, I found Hank and...Rachel." You smiled weakly, and finally turned to Wednesday. Her skin mingled when she saw the sadness in your face. "Hank is not a suspect. He cannot be." Your gaze dropped as your fingers stopped tapping. Slowly, your whole body and countenance seemed to be turning off. "Not after he had done to Rachel....for me."

"I saw your poem." Wednesday told you, voice colder than you wished. "He took you back to the camps."

"He made a deal with the devil. He surrendered in order to keep me alive."

"He gave up. He killed Rachel. He locked you. "

"He—" you choked. "He kept me alive...from her." Your hand unconsciously touched your right rib. "I got hurt when we first escaped and Rachel...wanted to use it. Use me."

Wednesday frowned at your downcast expression.

You were betrayed too. 

How were you not angry?

"But in your poem you blame him. You say you miss her."

"I do." You whispered. "She was desperate, and I still think she didn't mean it. But Hank...He became one of them that night." You wiped a tear away. "He's still my family, but he's bonded to them too."

"How?"

"Through blood." You swallowed dryly. "Now he owns a camp too."

"He's guilty too."

"Y-yes." You turned to her, eyes gleaming with tears. "I don't know what to do."

"He deserves it, Y/N."

"He was used!"

"He made a choice." She retorted firmly. Mercilessly.

You widened at her, lips suddenly clued in a straight line.

She would never have mercy for him, or for anybody. She was not like this.

"He's my brother." Your grunt made Wednesday frown. You sounded, probably for the first time ever, upset. "My family."

"I cannot let him—"

"I know." You cut her off. "I'm only asking for a chance. For a doubt." You felt her hand suddenly; you didn't intend to hold her, nor reach her, but she was sitting closer than you thought. Your skin brushed against her only for a moment. Only before you ask: "Could you?"

"You're naive."

You shook your head, slowly and lazily. It was the response: no, she could not. 

She would never have mercy on Hank.

You accepted defeat with a hard swallow and turned your head to the stars again. With her intervention or not, you'd protect Hank.

But you preferred to have her by your side.

"Yes." She said, and you turned to her so quickly that you almost lost your balance. "Only one." She repeated strictly.

And then she saw that smile again, the same when she said you were friends, ecstatic and electrified. Alive, more than ever, so energetic it made her feel it too. And what she felt made she look away, but she could still hear your happiness when you said:

"Thank you."

X

Fear has become something you got used to: since you first left your father's farm, on the day he took you to the festival, you were afraid. You were afraid because you didn't know what you'd find outside your little world — but you loved it. 

Then you felt afraid again, a few years later, when you had the chance to walk around the forest by yourself. You felt afraid when you understood that the toy in your hands — the very same one the L/N's gave in order to conquer you — was stained with your father's blood. 

You were afraid the night after, when you were completely alone in the camps — and you felt afraid every single night since then. 

Fear guided you, drove you: it made you hide, and it kept you alive this far. You hate it. 

But, tonight, you felt none of it — just like the night before, when you counted the freckles on Wednesday’s hands. When you felt the warmth of her closeness, and the hitch of her breath as she read your writing. Somehow, despite being haunted and hunted together, you felt no fright, and you knew she was responsible for it.

She was brave like no one you've met before — and maybe, just maybe, some part of her courage has rubbed off on you. Just like she was learning to write poems from you, you were learning bravery from her. 

And it was your brand new courage that made you look for her in the middle of the night.

"Wednesday?" You whispered in the dark, not sure if she was awake. As comfortable as you were, laid down on the blanket fortress, you didn't seem able to fall asleep. "I must tell you something."

"Do not thank me again." She hissed, way louder than you. Surprisingly, the she-wolf was still asleep. Her snoring was still louder than yours and Wednesday’s voices. "It's unnecessary and distressing."

"No." You felt your face heating. "It's not that."

"Then say it." Her words were met with silence: suddenly, from her side, Wednesday heard and felt nothing but your shaking breathing. You were closer than she expected, and she was surprised when you moved slightly away.

"That night…" She could feel the sheet slipping under her as you spoke. "When you saw m—the Alp." You corrected yourself hushedly. "It got inside your head."

Wednesday turned her face to you: her features moved fast, attentively in the dark, but she couldn't find you. She could only hear your hoarse, low voice, whispering the last words she wanted  to hear.

"I saw what he did." You paused. If Wednesday could see you, she wouldn't stand the expression in your face, nor understand it: the frowned eyes, scrunched nose, twisted lips. She wouldn't recognize your anger — she had never seen it, after all — but it disturbed your face as much as it burned your body. And she would never comprehend how it did not affect your voice. "And I must tell you that…" Her hand reached you in the pitch dark. "You're wrong." Wednesday's touch made you gasp the words; for a brief second, your tone failed, but you went on, no matter how hard her grip was. 

"You're not unlovable." You held her instead of fleeing: that was what she expected you to do. To shy away from her, from her touch — that was what she wanted to do. "You're not detached."

Her fingers left your skin and you shook. You trembled in the complete dark. But you had to finish. 

"You have a heart that overwhelms you and I—" Your voice cracked. "I…" You closed your eyes and said, "I want to know it."

Wednesday remained out of your sight, and the room suddenly went silent — you saw nothing and heard nothing. Not even Enid's roars. 

"Please" You whispered last. "Would you let me know your heart?"

Coldness involved your burning face as you felt something suddenly coming closer — the dark was not enough to hide Wednesday now. Her hands were on you, and could watch her eyes, only inches away from yours, targeting you. Not with rage, not with determination, but with an unknown gleam that shone even in the darkness. 

And those same pitch black, yet bright eyes closed as her breath engulfed you.

"Guys?" Enid moaned, her claws stretching out and reaching Wednesday's blanket. The Addams girl retreated immediately, and the sound coming from her gritting teeth proved that she was more annoyed than startled. "You fine?"

"I'll kill you." Wednesday roared.

"Oh" Enid yawned. "Sweet dreams for ya"

Sinclair's snores restarted, and your heat finally felt like ceasing. But the coldness didn't leave your skin, then you realized Wednesday's hand was still covering yours. 

"You need to sleep." You felt her grip pulling you in her direction. 

"I don't want to." Either way, you obeyed, moving slowly over the blankets. "I don't want her to end this."

'This' , Wednesday thought again, 'what was this?'

"I won't let it." She spoke before her mind could silence her: her rationale told her she should not, but the heat coming from your body, now laying so close to hers, confused her. Her hand was still on your skin, and she was the one pulling you closer. "I won't let her."

She felt your hair trickling her skin, and she smiled; the smell of dew and old books mingled inside of her lungs. Suddenly, her whole body was filled by your scent, and an uncontrollable smile grew widely in her lips. 

You could only see a glimpse of it and, yet, it was the most beautiful image you have ever seen: Wednesday, laid by your side, smiling blatantly at you. Because of you.

You intertwined your fingers with hers, and her slow breathing soon helped you to relax.

You were smiling too, and enjoying her closeness with serenity: your hands were glued together, as your heads brushed softly. You were close enough to keep each other at safety, at peace. At fondness. 

At warmth and rest. 

"Sweet dreams, Wednesday."

You whispered, almost in her ear, before closing your eyes.

"Sweet dreams, Y/N."

X

"You don't understand what she's like." Rachel hissed in a desperate whisper, running after Hank as he paced over the room, looking for as many remedies as he could find. "We cannot stop now. She'll find us. She'll find Y/N if he—"

"If he doesn't sleep, he'll die." Hank argued back, picking a bottle of alcohol and gathering it with the others medical equipments. "It's out of discussion."

A sob of pain grew louder as they approached you: the bed was soaked with your sweat , and your gritting teeth could be heard from meters away. You were grasping the sheet as if they were your life — your freedom. And in some certain way, they really were; if you blacked out now, the Alp would rise, and the Hexe would find you all. 

If you stayed awake, however, such as you were trying so hard to be now....maybe you wouldn't make it. 

"If he sleeps, we all die." Rachel repeated, in a stronger and deeper voice. "We need to let him, Hank...It's him or us."

"What?"

"Your heard me." Rachel sobbed. "We can come back later, with policemen and weapons. We can free everyone and end this!" You grunted: only a few words made sense to you, but her cries forced you to look up. To look at her. And to notice how painfully she avoided your gaze. Her eyes were locked on a distant figure: Hank, then agitated and reactive, now was quiet, motionless. Rachel watched his back, his almost unnoticeable breathing. She went on: "We can, I swear we will, but only if we survive now!" The boy didn't move. He stood in the dark, completely silent. "Hank, please!"

What happened next was hard for you to understand: you saw a bright  flash of blue light, you heard a roar — maybe Hank's, maybe your own — and you felt a weight. A grip, claws cutting deep into your skin as you tried to scream. 

But it wasn't Hank. Your widened eyes glanced at the creature that made you winch: an werewolf. Rachel's transformed. Her claws and teeth engulfed* you as the blue light approached — your flesh was pierced apart, and when you thought that the cut on your rib would knock you down, the pain coming through your chest awakened you. 

"STOP!" A voice, trembling and low like fire crackling, took over your ears — your mind. The presence of the devil dominated your mind before you could actually see it. The Kigatilik was in front of you, white and curled as always, long claws and fingers being raised as the blood emerged, soaking your clothes. 

You blinked, slowly, painfully: the scene didn't make sense for you; You only recognized the inuit, and its broad, monstrous back covered every glimpse of the werewolf. Hank — now in his devilish form — stood between you and Rachel. He— it forced the beast away, marching over to her until the roars became barks. In the middle of the dark, in the middle of the night — the monsters were fighting over you. Sweat and blood sprinkled over you, mingling with your own. 

You couldn't see much, you couldn't hear much; all you could do was breathe: it was hard and painful, but you managed to — you had to. 

The last thing your understood was:

"Take me." The plea came from a hoarse, sobbing voice. It came from below, from the devil crawling on the floor, on the pool of blood. "Not him. Take me." There was a shadow standing above him. You saw: you knew it. You could see the gleam of its eyes shining in the dark. Like the shadow itself was watching you.

Like a nightmare observing.

Like the Mare.

The Hexe said "Yes."

And it all went black.

[scentedchildnacho]

They were talking at lunch about mt Soledad meal and it's size so i admitted their serial killers their Helter skelters and they have been putting my name on mass murder lists like aids for years and that was the newest attempt at killing the poverty problem off its disgusting to get away with theft and so they start looking like a whole district to asylum

Anyway I was watching Tubi about happy marriages because Milwaukee police are very conservative that way I may look into date ing but I shouldn't practice or emulate it....its not an enjoyed hospitality compared to conservative values of respect hard work and decent benefits

Ive went on dates before and I didn't feel disrespected but I didn't feel loved and companioned and it's just boring compared to modernity and bloombury Virginia woolfe love is truly the greatest thing in society and everything ever achieved is about truly loving someone

People who finally hear an ambulance as a sign of hope and conflict ending is about someone who truly loved their family

Anyway....this couple on this happy marriage show explained they emigrated from Africa because the conflict was so bad they were dispersed from one another and their home communities.....and they explained the flights over head arent just drone sound bombs their going into rural areas and dropping explosions and the people here are doing the best they can having been forced up against the coast.....

But he just explained wanting to be around her mannerisms and disposition and she was just so greater then getting upset about conflict and just very detached and indifferent so rebel girls promised me I would be given this African ability so I'm glad my western consciousness was disrupted by that otherwise I would have hyper emotional expectations all the time ...

I saw him again and he explained the nurse wanted him to get his blood pressure medications.....so i said I never view anything as medical anymore though I am a crazy person....i believe in prayer and personal angels that kill those men for being gross dudes it's man and it can only be a gross car tel dude

My skin condition deteriorated here but God finally got rid of the city to my skin so that's healing.....and I get from the creepy dude bomb rush here these horrible depressive adrenaline anxiety panic rushes till i sink into depressive nothing do not be naive truly those gross disgusting weirdos like the flower hat guy and bald skin head freakshows do not be naive those things appear to just be a beater and truth is they envy anyone who has a soul and steal it because truthfully things that weird may not have anything but the worst here

But it's okay it's just a call to creationism....something very despiritualized infects the hare Krishna till I wonder if the indigenous children there need simple taking care of

That's me about the people's from India......their always in the migrant virtual media cage just very corporate something

I don't like how the states zones cities to where the Indians live if it's the Indians always already desolate and for militaristic expertise

Anyway I said leaving me with a cart to survive is so antiquated of women's rights that can't possibly happen this day in age and I really want to emigrate the way the African marriage did there was conflict so they were like I may have housing education and a decent life and just came here and did that so I need to take that attitude and go somewhere that will give that to me instead of a creepy rape hick nasty dude world

Then the outside security kept 🔒 ing a porta people couldn't piss in a urinal and someone could have gotten out of the storm and they kept locking it on people in need so God came with storm and smashed up their tent rain protection

They kept trying to force us into portas with urinals in them....so God kept smashing up their tent if Satan wins easy body organs

That's me about God as an existent their nasty worthless people that blame abstractions not themselves till it's look He is the storm God and that's all powerful instead of reefer

Did reefer make the hovering guards go away or did God....Storm God did

He said he would want to live in Europe....I said the Europeans are so far ahead as far as social engineering everything there uses less land or square acres to accomplish something simple but you walk in and never feel crowded or oppressed with too little space

You walk in and it's like spacious and accommodating

Their so far ahead about appropriating Asian ideas about rapid population growth

Well western culture isn't doesn't inherently conserve so more can be given to communal purpose like going out and celebrating

I wouldn't want to be a European union citizen though something about it is very difficult like she has to survive a gun shot wound before she could emigrate to London

Europe is very very very expensive that way you have to truly sacrifice everything to be truly welcome there that's Europe about being a nice place to live it's like a heaven

I thought about going to south America......but all of this will all start fleeing south

And the point is so nasty butt fuck druggy freak creep finally has to be apart of a meritocracy to be in people's lives and having to stay around here will just be more butt fuck homos always trying to to escape their own punishment by killing feminine kind

So I' think I will have to emigrate extremely or nasty fuck show will try to forcibly go to everything is coed smoke ville

[ledenews]

Line Workers Render Aid to Motorcyclist after Witnessing Horrific Crash

By Karen E. Wissing, Appalachian Power WHEELING, W.Va. – Outside of maintaining and improving the electric grid, our front-line employees see it all in the field: countless critters, devastation following a storm, Thank You messages from customers and so much more. Add in the amount of driving our crews do, and we know our field personnel see the good and the bad on the road, too. Line workers Tyler Clutter and Jared Straub had a scary dose of the bad on June 25. After nearly nine hours of driving from East Texas back to Wheeling after helping SWEPCO restore power, they were ready to check into their hotel in Nashville, Tenn.  The two noticed a motorcyclist entering the highway erratically. After swerving his bike over multiple lanes, the driver lost control, hit a concrete wall and was launched 30 feet from the point of impact. “We pulled over, Jared called 9-1-1, and I went to help the guy lying on the ground nearly unconscious,” Clutter said. “I kept trying to keep him awake because he was dozing off.” While waiting on emergency services to arrive, Clutter and Straub secured the scene.   Clutter recalls holding the motorist’s bleeding, trembling hand, letting him know someone was with him and help was coming.  “At one point, I thought he was going to die. I told him to look me in the eyes, stare at me and think of something happy. I did what I could so he wouldn’t worsen his anxiety.”  About 25 minutes later, an ambulance arrived. The motorist was air-lifted to a nearby hospital with life-threatening injuries.   When Clutter and Straub finished up the police report, the officers thanked them both for keeping the man alive until emergency personnel were there. Clutter and Straub attribute their ability to help the man to their annual First Aid training in Wheeling.  “I’ve never experienced anything like that before, but it was second nature for Jared and me to pull over,” said Clutter. “We couldn’t leave someone like that.” Clutter added that the accident opened his eyes to how quickly things can happen on the road.  “I’m glad we were there because you don’t know what other people would have done – they might have just driven by.”  Read the full article

[wrvtchedhearts]

Veer had not planned for their first meet up with Goldie to go on for this long, not that they had any other plans, but because there was still fear there. Goldie made them forget their fear completely. The easy way she talked, the conversation that spanned the whole way between the park and where they were supposed to have lunch - despite being amoured by his child, he still kept an eye on the road and where they were headed, just in case Rhodes was in fact trying to get him captured again. They had their hands firmly in their pockets, hood of their hoodie back on, and sunglasses pressed on their face, looking a little out of place, but nobody would be able to recognise them. Unless if they spotted them only by the colour and fluffiness of their hair that came out from under the hood. 

Goldie asked questions, walking at her mother’s hand, her eyes either completely on him, or paying attention to whatever was around her. She wanted to share everything and she wanted to know everything, at times he even found her talking about things with the lies and fantasies of a child, making up stories. He was in love. 

She asked him about his favourite animals, pets, food, playground, weather, season, drinks, and so forth, while telling him the same things as well about her. She told him names of friends he did not know, places he hadn’t seen before, plush animals he hadn’t met. She took over the whole conversation, but she listened intently when he was answering one of her questions. She took his whole being along with her, holding it in those tiny little palms. She was confident and shy, she was happy and serious, she switched emotions and she displayed proudly how much she cared for her mother. 

Veer was smiling the entire time. Bobbing his head along, nodding, agreeing, adding information. 

Even when they’d seated down, and between ordering the food - Veer didn’t order anything themself, mostly because they feared Rhodes would pay for it, but still a cup of coffee appeared in front of them - Goldie talked and asked, she could not be stopped. They loved it. She made him eat fries with her, and shared a bite of her burger - veg, this kid, honestly. They could see their mannerisms, though they noticed mostly the parts of her that were Rhodes’, even when seeing the ones that were clearly his. He couldn’t believe it, how much she looked like both of them. 

They were even invited to play, and they couldn’t say no. Even while images of their re-capture vividly passed before their eyes, the way that the police would drag them away from their child, put cuffs on them, and then throw them in the back of a police car. 

That didn’t happen though, instead they were led through a magical world of Goldie’s creation, with unicorns and water serpents, huge water serpents. She’d jump from spot to spot and tell him the ground was lava. He was her knight one moment and the bad-guy the next, then her side-kick as they worked their way through a thick rainforest where the vines were actually made of candy. 

Despite not being tired yet, Veer did eventually fall under their anxieties and moved back to the table. The world was giving him something he never knew he wanted, and now he wanted it so badly that he’d fight for it. The pull of that future and how he couldn’t have it, gripped at his soul. He felt like a wounded animal as he got back to Rhodes, wanting to beg her: please, please let me have this. I’m so sorry, whatever I’ve done wrong, I’m so sorry. I just want this, so so badly. 

Yet, they sat down and they said nothing, simply watched Goldie still, forced smile on their face, hoping she wouldn’t notice from this far away. Rhodes placed her hand on his, and his muscles stained against the fear. He didn’t know what to do with her apology, he didn’t know if he could take it seriously. If she was trying to pull him in, and then… he knew it made no sense. He still couldn’t tap into that comfortable side of his, the one that didn’t give a shit. Because he was giving a shit. So few people actually got through to his heart. 

They bit their lip, looking deeply into her eyes. Then they grabbed her hands in his, kept her close, his eyes pleading. “I don’t want to go. I want to be in your life, in hers, she’s mine, right? I know she’s mine, I can… she’s ours. She’s clearly yours and she’s clearly mine.”

Veer's internal struggle ironically mirrored much of Rhodes' own uncertainties. It was comical-- just how much of one person they were even after all this time.

The five-year gap in Veer's presence and the sudden intrusion into Goldie's life cast a looming shadow over the moment. The weight of responsibility bore down on Rhodes' shoulders, each passing moment adding another layer to the already burdensome load she carried. Threads of obligation intricately entwined with the fibers of her being, creating expectations not easily shed. The responsibility, extended to both Goldie and Veer, operated as a relentless force, directing the trajectory of her life with unwavering authority. Every decision, every choice, possessed the potential to not only shape her destiny but also that of her daughter and the father who now stood before her. The emotional and mental strain was palpable, visible in the furrow of her brow. A silent acknowledgment of the pain her family had inflicted lingered, with remnants seemingly swirling in the honeyed hues of Veer's eyes.

As Veer gazes into Goldie's eyes, does he perceive a subtle reflection of the shades shared with the tainted Iverson genetic lineage? Can their collective goodness successfully replace the shadows of the past? Rhodes hopes fervently, a silent prayer echoing through her thoughts. Goldie's veins, her spirit, her beauty—all seemed to be intricately linked to Veer, and their guiding light of a countenance.

A swell of a smile graces Rhodes' lips upon hearing the acceptance of the invitation. Her heart skips a beat, reminiscent of the moments when it was just the two of them, as if Goldie's presence faded away, leaving behind an intimate space for reconnection.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 /   * 

Since Goldie was in charge of lunch, she would pick their regular spot where she was able to run to the children's playground in between bites of french fries, and her veggie burger dipped in ketchup cups. Rhodes watched in a very silent and very reserved way and thankfully Goldie doesn't pick up on it. Instead the five year old is learning about Veer. She asks them questions, and when she's not satisfied with those answers she asks more. She's curious about the individual, and drawn to them in a way she doesn't quite understand. It's all too surreal to Rhodes. She tries to gulp it down with her unsweetened tea every minute or so. She finds if she focusses too much on the two that their resemblances, and mannerisms are too uncanny for her. When needed the mother offers tiny nods of encouragement to Goldie and pained expressions to Veer. She even sits by herself as they play together on the children's playground. She allows them to be greedy with their daughter, and if anything she wishes she could grant even more time.

Only once their attention was placed back on her- only once they come back to sit at the table with her does she dare place her hand atop theirs. Soft fingertips graze the back of their hand as they watch Goldie dive head first into the ball pit. But that contact brings forth more pain, memories and guilt. Finally she musters a single whisper, "I'm sorry." She meant it- she was sorry for it all.