#the rebar head cake was something else

[inlovewithsaturn]

Dean Winchester’s 42nd Birthday

Dean woke up on his 42nd birthday the way he had been waking up nearly every day in the last few months: an armful of white fur and wet kisses across his cheeks. When Miracle first came home with them Dean had made sure to get her a big, cushy, memory foam dog bed so that she would be comfortable, but it had taken all of three nights for him to relent and let her sleep pressed against his side. He liked having her there, hell, he didn't even try and hide it. He was trying to hide things less now. He was trying to be better. ** **

He was trying to be the man Cas had told him he was. 

The thought of Cas had him hugging Miracle just a little tighter to his chest, burying his face in her warm fur. He thought about Cas a lot. His eyes, his final moments, his confession. Dean missed him more than he really thought was possible. But life goes on. You lose people and you have to keep going, no matter how big the ache in your chest gets, you have to keep going. That's what Dean was trying to do. He wanted Cas’s sacrifice to mean something. If he got out now Cas’s death would have been for naught, so he kept going. 

There had been some close calls, even as the number of hunts got lower and lower. Dean had a nasty gash still healing on his ribs from where a piece of rebar almost got him, now that would have been a dumb way to go. Those first couple of weeks had been hard. Dean contemplated just ending it all, he wasn't really sure how to go on after everything that happened, wasn't sure how to fill the angel-sized hole in his heart. But Cas’s words played on his head in a loop and he wasn't going to die and throw away the chance Cas had died to give him. He loved the other man far too much to let that happen. 

So Dean got up, he pulled on his dead guy robe and grabbed the plate from last night’s pizza rolls, and he scratched Miracle behind the ears. Today was going to be a good day, whether the universe wanted it to be or not. He hummed as he walked to the kitchen. He was doing better. Coffee was scenting the air as he neared the doorway and, oh, bacon? Happy birthday to him! As he grinned and rounded the doorway three things immediately became clear. 1. That was not his brother (way too short), 2. The “unbreakable” glass plates he got at the store were not in fact unbreakable if the cuts pricking his legs were to be believed, and 3. He was going to get to start his birthday by killing whatever son of a bitch had decided to put on that trenchcoat and waltz into his home. 

The shattering dinnerware caused the creature to turn in surprise, it's elbow nearly bumping the frying pan to the ground, but it caught it at the last moment. It then turned back, blue eyes locking with green. Dean was frozen, not for long but for longer than a seasoned hunter should have been. In two long strides he had a knife from the butcher block in his grip and was pressing the blade to the fucker’s neck with his other arm solidly around it’s chest. His voice was wobbling when he spoke. 

“I dont care what the fuck you are, get out of that body now or your death is gonna take a hell of a lot longer than it needs to.” 

The sigh of frustration coming from the monster was almost expected. Monsters were cocky little bastards. The words it spoke though? Rather surprising. 

“Dean, if you don't let me go the bacon is going to burn and this is the only pack in the fridge.” 

Huh. Okay. So it was going to get extra tortured then. It was one thing to take his shape but pretending to be his angel cooking him breakfast was another. He pressed down harder with the knife, drawing a blood and a wince-

“Cas?” 

Dean didn't loosen his hold but he did turn his neck to look at Sam, who was currently in the same position of shock Dean had vacated moments earlier. His brother’s face pushed the tears that were burning the back of his eyes into the light. He needed a drink. 

“Sam, get the silver and the holy water from the cupboard,” Sam didn't move. “Now!” Dean gritted out, just as the monster cut in. 

“I'm not a shapeshifter Dean, or a demon, I was just trying to make breakfast.” 

“Shut up. Stop saying my name.” Was all Dean could manage. He had been thinking about hearing Cas say his name, just once more, for weeks now. This was agony. 

Sam had apparently been shaken from his trance because the next thing Dean felt was residual holy water splashing his cheek. He let go of one arm so Sam could push up the coat, his coat, and draw the thin silver blade over skin. 

Nothing happened except a few pricks of blood and a sharp inhale that Dean could feel pressed against his chest. Then there was a quiet, fluttering, woosh to his left. A sound he hadn't heard in months. 

“It seems I should have arrived at the same time as Cas, sorry about that.” 

Dean’s brain was going way too fast. It felt like there was cotton stuffed in his ears and all the way through his skull. The edges of his vision went dark, zeroing in on the figure standing next to the stove, white jacket somehow almost glowing. Now Dean was almost certain that this was a dream because the last thing he saw before fainting backwards into the counter was Jack, smiling like there was absolutely nothing amiss. 

His head hurt. Not like a hangover but more like that time a vampire had clocked him from behind with a 2x4. He opened his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. That dream had been insane. Why was he in the kitchen? 

“How is your head Dean?” Cas’s low voice washed over him in a sea of warmth. 

“It hurts like a bitch. What happened Cas?” 

Oh fuck. Not a dream. 

Dean pushed up so he was sitting and tried to stand and tackle the man before him at the same time but the floor seemed to rush towards him and he ended up slumped on Cas’s chest. Warm arms caught him by the waist and sat him back down. A large hand gripped his chin and he was turned to see his brother. 

“Calm the hell down okay? You hit your head pretty hard on the counter.” Dean jerked his eyes back to Cas and tried, again unsuccessfully, to leave his hold. His face was turned again. 

“He's not a monster Dean, stop moving. You have a cut.” Sam lifted his hand to place a small bandaid on Dean’s eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“Jack pulled me out. Please let your brother finish his first aid so we can talk.” 

Dean sat still. 

Once Sam was satisfied with his handiwork he and Cas helped Dean stand and move to the table. 

Dean sat still. 

This was not happening. How in the world could it be? 

Cas sat in front of him. Cas gazed at him with a mix of worry and pure joy. Cas reached out a hand to gently squeeze the one Dean had lying limp on the tabletop. He felt real. He felt like Cas. 

“Cas?” Cas smiled wider. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Tears slid down Dean’s cheeks as his hand not currently occupied with gripping onto Cas lifted, shaking, to brush across the angel’s cheekbone. He was really here. He was warm and solid and breathing. He was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. 

“How are you here?” His voice was barely above a whisper. He was terrified that if he spoke too loud or moved too fast this would all fall apart and he would wake back up in his bed, alone with only his dog and memories to keep him going. 

“Jack came to an agreement with the Empty, he could help it sleep if he was allowed to pull a few angels out to help in Heaven. I was the first.” 

“I prayed to you Cas. I didn't think you could hear me but I kept praying. How long have you been out?” At this, sadness shadows across blue eyes, guilt evident in his ethereal features. 

“A while by Earth standards of time. There was so much to be done. I heard them. I heard you.” 

He looks back up. 

“I am sorry Dean, we worked as fast as we could. I cannot tell you what it is now, but it is far better than what my father created. Jack is a good leader. It was important I finished before I saw you again.” 

“Why?” Dean is now holding both of Castiel’s hands in his own. A sad smile graces Cas’s mouth.

“Because I knew once I saw you I would be unable to leave you again.” 

Dean stands, the floor now remaining steady under his feet, and has his arms around Cas in seconds. Castiel stands as well so he can wrap around him, Dean’s face quickly finding its home in the crook of Cas’s neck. 

“Thank you.” 

“I didn't actually do it, Jack is the one to thank.” 

“No.” Dean pulls back so he can see Cas’s face. “Thank you for coming back.” 

“I’ll always come when you call.” 

Dean pulls him back in, suffocating himself in the scent of Cas. He stays that way for a time, only pulling away when he hears a small giggle from behind him. Jack is beaming, as is Sam, and Dean rushes to envelop Jack in a hug as well. 

“Thanks kid.” 

“Of course, Dean. It was his choice anyway, I just made it happen. I don't think there is anyone better to teach him how to be human than you and Sam.” 

Dean pulls back. 

“Human?” 

Cas speaks again, anxiety laced into his words. 

“Yes, as Jack said, I made the choice. I can go somewhere else if that-” Dean’s arms surround him once again, crushing any doubts he was holding. 

“We are gonna teach you everything okay? You're gonna love it.” Dean is smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. Cas is staying here. Cas is human and real and he's here. 

“I know you all need to catch up on some things but I do have some pressing matters to get back to, and I brought a birthday cake that I would very much like to eat.” Dean doesn't know if he will ever be able to feel this much joy ever again. 

“And I insisted on a birthday pie as well, though it is not traditional I thought it may be appreciated.” Dean’s heart could have exploded right then and there. Cas is the best thing that ever happened to him. 

“Get some plates Sammy.” 

They sit down, Cas and Dean on one side, Sam and Jack on the other. They eat cake. Dean eats pie. They tell Cas about the things Dean left out of his prayers, like Dean’s application to a local mechanic, and how Eilleen has been staying over more and more. They all hug Jack goodbye and he promises to drop in sometimes. Sam leaves to call Eilleen, and finally Dean and Castiel are sitting side by side in the empty kitchen. Cas speaks first. 

“I got you something.” Dean blushes and averts his eyes from the man beside him. 

“You didn't have to Cas. You coming back is pretty much the birthday gift of a lifetime.” Cas chuckles at that but slips his hand into the breast pocket of his coat all the same. 

“I wanted to. You deserve good things, Dean. Especially on your birthday.” Dean wants to make a joke about how utterly unworthy he is of anything Cas has to offer but the words die in his throat as Castiel stands from his seat to kneel on the cold floor beside him. Holy shit. 

“I heard your prayers Dean. I know how hard you tried to get me out. I know about your mom’s ring. I could hear the life you planned out for us. I heard everything. I could see you too. I know how hard you have been working to be true to yourself. I never regretted for a moment that I let the Empty take me. Not one. You are worth everything. I rebuilt Heaven for you, Dean. Everyone will benefit but I did it for you. You are so full of love. From the moment I raised you out of hell I knew I would never lay my eyes on another soul as beautiful as yours. I know I do not technically exist and you are legally dead but I do not want to spend another moment without you. So, Dean Winchester, will you marry me?” 

Dean is on his knees, hands cradling Cas’s face, lips crashing against the ex-angel’s before he can even utter his response. He’s been wanting to do this for years. Dean kisses with every ounce of adoration he has in him, pushing away only when he needs to breathe. Their foreheads rest against each other, two sets of tears mixing on cheeks. They are breathing the same air, eyes still closed, chests rising and falling in frantic harmony. 

“Yes! I love you. I love you so much I can hardly stand it.” 

They're kissing again, soft and sweet. Dean’s fingers are threaded through dark hair, he never wants to let go. They stay kneeling on the bunker floor wrapped in eachother’s arms for what feels like an eternity. Once Dean can feel his knees giving out he stands and drags Cas along with him, the shorter man scooping up the ring box on the way. Dean hadn't even seen the ring yet. Cas clutches his hand and rests it over his heart while he fumbles to get the jewelry free. 

It's a simple band, nothing flashy or ornate, but Dean’s eyes catch on something engraved inside. Cas reads his mind, the same way he always does. 

“For Love,” Castiel smiles that same watery smile that is seared into Dean’s heart.

“The engraving, that's what it says. I made it before we came.” With those words he slips the ring onto Dean’s hand. He doesn't let go, only uses one hand to pull Dean back in, kissing him with all the love in the world. Dean kisses back, matching him move for move. 

The next day they walk hand in hand through the door of the lone jewelry store in Lebanon, Mary’s old ring in Dean’s pocket. Lighter silver than the one on Dean’s finger but fitting all the same. They get it engraved too. 

“We are.” 

[msbeccieboo]

Arrow 7x20 Brain Dump

I liked this week’s offering!! We got our little ninja Roy back!! Like last week, however, it felt out of place in the season, where was this goodness when we were still mucking about with the Dragon nonsense mid-season?? For me it was lacking in Oliver, and sorely missing Olicity scenes, given our finite time 😭, but was still a good episode overall! I liked how the team transpired to be working as a true unit, for once (only after some persuading from Oliver)! In fact, it was so hard to break up the episode this week, as it was such a team-focused story.

Episode Summary

We had some serious Agatha Christie vibes going on, the story told in a classic whodunnit style. The bulk of the plot was told through flashback *cue sepia* and was interspersed with Dinah interrogating the team one by one in real time.  The fact that the officer was killed using lead piping also tickled me a lot 😂.

The show opens with Dinah and Sergeant Bingsley arriving at a crime scene with the bodies of 2 subway guards. It then cuts to them questioning the first of ‘the suspects’, who turns out to be none other than…Oliver Queen!  Dun dun duuuuunn!!! Oliver denies killing the officers, saying that Team Arrow actually stopped a terrorist attack by Emiko and the Ninth Circle. After questioning Oliver, we realise that besides Team Arrow, there was also someone else there at the scene…ROY HARPER!!!

By flashback, we realise that the team discovered that the Ninth Circle intended on using the bioweapon we saw last week to ‘destroy the city’ or something like that (I can’t say I was 100% on the ball with the backstory this week guys 😂😂). In order to deal with this threat, they call in our favourite parkouring ninja street fighter ROY!!!!!

Source: arsenalroy

Continued below the cut

Dinah and Bingsley (ugh, I hate him) interview all of the team, including Roy, during the course of the episode as we see the story unfold. It appears as if Dinah had no involvement in the operation and is looking to put one of the team away for the murders, but in a somewhat predictable ‘twist’, it is revealed that she was there as the Black Canary for the whole thing, and so is still a suspect herself!

Source: lucyyh 💗

Back in the sepia times, we see the team, including Felicity and now also Dinah, move in to stop the threat, eventually all separating off, as we hear the guards’ defensive shots, and see all of them reacting in turn (I really liked this part…so dramatic!). We then see my sweet baby Roy, battering the guards with the lead piping in a violent rage. Oliver manages to drag him away, horrified and covered in blood, but it is too late, the guards are dead, and everyone looks to Oliver to decide what to do next.

Back at the lair, Oliver realises that Roy has pit-rage, asking him “how did you die” (that murdered me😭). Nyssa had administered the lotus elixir to cure him, but they think his previous exposure to Mirakuru somehow stopped the rage from killing him, but let the rage remain to an extent. This somewhat explained why he doesn’t go into a coma whilst marooned on Lian Yu for 20 years, with noone to kill. Oliver tells Roy, and the others, that Roy is part of the Team and they will cover for him, and thus all the interrogations etc. are explained.

At the end of the Episode, Oliver finally confronts Emiko at the Ninth Circle’s base. Emiko drops the figurative and literal bombshell on Oliver that she knowingly sent Robert off to his death, then proceeds to blow up the building they are in, leaving Oliver trapped under cement blocks and rebar ALL THE REBAR!!  THE TOMMY FEELS GUYS I CAN’T EVEN 😭😭😭

Source: olicitygifs

To be continued 😱😱😱…. 

Olicity

What even is an Olicity? We got next to nothing this week, no glorious episode 20 sexy times, no conversation, no Olicity-only scenes, no kiss, no hug😡. We got a couple of cute touchy moments but that was it. Bitter, you ask? Fuck yes, I am! Hopefully we can make up for this with some hurt/comfort next week, but anyway, let’s look at some pretty!

Source: lucyyh 💗

Source: feilcityqueen

Felicity

Felicity Megan Smoak was a dream in this episode. Start to finish. Fabulous! Would I have liked to have seen more of her? Hell to the yes, she was for sure underused in this episode, but what we did get was perfection!!! Her adorable reunion with Roy, barging past Oliver to attack hug him 😂😂

Source: feilcityqueen

Her whole babble about her emotions was hilarious; “Nerves of Steel. You know me. I’m cool.” How no one else guessed she’s pregnant I will never know, but Roy did kinda raise his eyebrows, so my head canon says he guessed, until they tell me otherwise!

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

Felicity dragging Dinah during her own interrogation was beautiful! From her pointed nonchalance at the entire situation, all whilst eating a sandwich and asking for cake (god I love her so much), to her constant corrections, to “Oh, you mean when Diaz kidnapped Roy to try to turn him against Oliver? You might have forgotten about that since you weren’t exactly on speaking terms with Oliver and I at the time” YAAAASSSS burn herrrrr!!!!!

Source: seeing-red-arrow

I loved that we saw her in the field again, side-by-side with her original and new team mates. I’m so pleased that even though we didn’t get a heap of Felicity, they really used her as much as the style of the episode permitted.

Bonus one-liners:

“That’s a no on the evil sister redeeming herself then”

“Roy is incredible at parkour” 

😂😂😂

Oliver

We really needed more Oliver in this episode. The storyline should be ramping up and focusing in on Oliver (and the core characters) at this point in the season, and Oliver was in the episode for no more than anyone else, really.

Source: olicitygifs

His highlights for me, beyond a doubt, were his interactions with Roy. I missed this relationship so much!! In many ways, Roy was Oliver (and Felicity’s) first child. He brought Roy into this life, he helped to guide him, to nurture his existing abilities and passed on skills that he had learned. He saved Roy from himself and The Glades, and in return Roy saved Oliver right back, giving him back a part of his humanity that Oliver had long thought lost back in the dark days of seasons 1 and 2, and literally saving him from a life sentence in S3. These men became family not through Thea, but through their bond within Team Arrow.

Oliver didn’t hesitate for a second to declare “we have to protect him”, when they found Roy killing the guards. He knew right away about the pit, defending him against Rene and Dinah when they didn’t want to cover for him at first (shocker), telling them they didn’t understand what he’d been through, that “Roy is and always will be as much a part of this team as the rest of us” and reiterating that “if someone on this team goes down, this entire team goes down.” When he speaks to Roy about what happened, Roy doesn’t initially want to ask for Oliver’s help, but Oliver simply tells him “you never have to ask me, ever”. Ugh I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!

Source: smoakmonster

Something also finally seemed to click for Oliver this week, that he could not help Emiko, that she needs taking into custody. I loved his words to Rene “at a certain point, people need to take responsibility for their actions”, YES MY LOVE!!! I can’t wait to see how he reacts to Emiko next week and in the finale, now that he realises how far gone she is, and that she effectively set him on this path 12 years ago, killing their father, and sentencing Oliver to his time on the island etc.

Source: olivergifs

Dig

Dig was criminally underused in this episode. He had barely any interactions with Roy, despite their history, his interrogation was super brief, and we barely saw him in the field. DO BETTER WRITERS! We’re running out of OTA time!!

Source: feilcityqueen

Roy

ARSENAL IS BACK BITCHES!!! I love Roy Harper. Always have, always will. Sooo glad to see him in the current timeline! He looked so happy to be back with his family too! I’m glad that they explained Thea’s absence (they called for Roy specifically) and talked about how she was doing. Oliver was honest with Roy straight-up about Emiko, and explained how he didn’t want to tell Thea about her until she was caught, as he didn’t want to hurt her by Robert’s actions again, especially now she’s free of her life in Star City.

I love, and actually screamed when Felicity acknowledged Roy’s parkour! They specifically used his bouncy-bouncy ninja skills to break into the vault. However, I will still never get enough of Roy’s unnecessary parkour haha, and we got to see a little of that during his fights, and it still made me smile!!

Roy’s reaction to his pit-rage was heart-breaking. This was worse than when he found out about killing the police officer on Mirakuru. I can see these killings (and I’m hoping maybe even Emiko, also) being what sends him to self-exile on Lian Yu, where we found him 20 years later in the flash forwards.

Dinah/Rene/Emiko (a.k.a. the annoyances)

Dinah remains fucking annoying! Even turning out to be in on the act in the end, it was so easy to buy into her trying to send down anyone and everyone on the team for this crime because she is just generally a shitty disloyal person!

Likewise with Rene. It was easy as the viewer to believe that he had ratted out Oliver again, because he’s done it before, and I have no doubt he would do it again. Neither he nor Dinah wanted to help Roy at first. That they needed reminding by Oliver about how protecting one of the team protects all of them, just reiterates how they are not true team players and why most of the fandom still doesn’t class them as real members of Team Arrow.

Regarding Emiko and Rene…Rene basically just stalked Emiko for half the season, they are not ‘close’, ugh, stop! Emiko gets bonus points for shooting Rene when he confronts her! I actually didn’t mind how they used Emiko this week, she appeared only when necessary, and moved the story on. I still can’t take her seriously as the big bad of the season, but it is what it is. Emiko will stop at nothing to take down the Queens (which at this point is quite frankly just stupid), and her latest dastardly deed is to bury Oliver under a building (from behind a protective wall, because she knows that’s the only way she would escape Oliver) to ‘kill him’ and then to destroy his reputation on the outside by outing the video footage of him covering up for Roy.

With no flash forwards this week, I just can’t help think of all the extra time we had, and that extra time was spent on Dinah and Rene *violently rolls eyes*, when we could have had more OTA & Roy (my favourite combination)! Anyway, next week looks awesome!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you to the gif-makers! I love you more than Roy loves excessive back flips 😉

💗💗💗

[andmyvape]

In The Ruins...

This desert wind is harsh as it drives over and under a bridge suspended by rusted cables from equally rusted supports. Each gusty makes it sway and creak, and makes you wish there was another way into the Sanskin ruins. Then again, the treacherous crossing is what makes it worth coming here in the first place. Directly below the bridge are sun-bleached jagged stones sticking up into the air to skewer anyone who falls through the rusted metal or off the side. Larger groups don’t want to risk it giving way as they cross, and smaller two or three head teams can’t carry a lot out. You come alone except for your faithful mechabeast of burden, but you are far from unprepared.

You come to the end of the bridge and a view of twisted stone and metal stretches out before you. It’s one of the many ruins left after the Collapse. No one you’ve talked to knows what it could have been named before the locals decided to call it Sanskin. There are a few meters left of clear ground before the going gets rough. Since you haven’t eaten since sun-up, you slide down to the ground and dig into the bags hanging off the saddle for some food. You fetch out a flask of oil for your companion as well.

Peg is yours, has been since you found her chewing up part of your family’s water collector. You had been too stunned by the luck of it to really be too mad about the collector, you could repair that, but a mechabeast just falling into your lap? Now that was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It took whole teams to go out and wrangle a mechabeast and you got it for a few handfuls of scrap. The mechabeast horse had a few dings to it but with a little TLC and a little more scrap, Peg was outracing Tribe bikes at a short clip and outpace them any further.

No one was quite sure where the mechabeasts came from. You had asked every grey old geezer you could find, but all any of them could tell you was that when people came out of hiding after the Collapse, the mechabeasts were there right along with the animals. And not just animals either, from what you’d heard of the rumors there had been sightings of massive fish-looking mechabeasts near the coast, and you’ll swear yourself you’ve heard a few crickets whose chirps sounded just a bit too tinny. They didn’t eat anything but metal, wires, and the same sticky black fluid the Tribe ran bikes on, but otherwise they acted like the animals they were made after They even kind of looked like flesh and blood at a distance. So far no one had found one made after a person, though you haven’t really met anyone who’s known anyone who tried.

Quick meal finished-- bland pressed corn cakes and jerky, from the Tribe’s ration depot-- you grab Peg’s reigns in one hand and go into the ruins. You have to go on foot from here. Experience has taught you that Peg’s legs are good for bracing her on unsteady terrain, but not with someone in the saddle.

You search idly for pickings you can snag up as you go, anything valuable enough to take up bag space this soon in. Now that the Tribe has the kinks worked out of the water system pumping from the aquifer under their bunker and out to the farms in the area, they’re set on acquiring parts for a power generator they can run on wind instead of fuel. After all, they need it for their bikes and their mechabeasts. The big prize right now is a magnet, the biggest that can be found. The reward wasn’t specified but you’re sure it’s worth a few extra scrapes and bruises…

… Which is why you aim right for a part of the ruins you know has stayed mostly unexplored. Reason being, they’re mostly blocked off by fallen rubble spiked with rebar, and the only way into the tunnels are a small opening that threatened to fall in on itself any minute. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole way and beyond is pitch black. You come prepared with a lamp lantern and a satchel to haul out what you can. Peg won’t be able to come with you, so you leave her loose at the entrance and tell her to wait for you to get back. She stares at you with deep, knowing red eyes that seem to wish you, “Good luck.”

With the lamp handle in your teeth, you grip a piece of metal sticking out of a chunk of rock, using it to brace your upper body as you slide your lower half into the tunnel. Your feet kick out for something solid to rest on, and when you find it you rest your weight bit by bit to make sure it doesn’t give out under you. Slowly, slowly, you reach down for another handhold and keep going. It goes on like that for several meters of darkness until you reach a place where the tunnel widens out further than the light of your lantern reaches.

You can see the ground though, it’s uneven and strewn with scattered rubble. You watch your feet as well as your surroundings as you walk further. With any luck you’ll find what you’re looking for without having to go too far from the entrance. In fact you’re well within sight of its dim glow when you luck out. You find a metal box nailed to a crooked brick wall, and just to the left, a sign with the letters “H rd  r”. It’s a hunch, but you get a good feeling despite the missing characters. You make a mental note to find out what the word could be and its meaning while you look for a way into what you’re sure is a hollow in the rubble. You tap your fist along the stone until you hear the dull thud deepen. Now to get in…

You glance around and your lamplight falls on a bent length of metal. Perfect.

Crash! The metal strikes through the brick, leaving a hole bigger than your fist. You smash through the wall to break an opening large enough to go through. When the dust settles you feel your heartbeat kick into a higher beat at the sight of scrap and wires just… piled inside. Wherever your light lands you can see the trade deals. How many ration tickets could you get for all this? Enough for months? Seasons?

Soon your satchel is full of components and old machines you don’t know the use of, but figure the Tribe can repurpose. Scrap is all well and good, but not everything can be made from bare parts. You never know when something you snag on a hunch could net you a hefty pile of tickets, but so far your instincts have been real keen.

Then, your eyes fall on the big prize. There’s a lump in one of the larger piles of scrap; when you pick it up, wires and metal bits fall to the ground, but plenty stays stuck to whatever you’ve picked up. You brush the pieces away and where your hand touches its dully shining metal surface, you see grooved carves you can feel under your fingers start to glow. It’s subtle at first, but soon its nearly half as bright as your lantern.

What kind of pre-Collapse technology is this? You’ve heard some of some fantastic things being dug out of the Sanskin ruins, but nothing half as strange as this. Whatever it is, you’re certain it’s what the Tribe, and therefore you, need.

Now you have a choice to make. Your satchel is barely half full, but when you try to tuck the magnet in as well, you realize there isn’t enough room. After dumping out everything non-essential, there’s just barely enough, and you won’t be carrying out much else with it. You drop to your knees on a heavy sigh and start digging through what you dumped out to sort out what looks worth the most. As long as you’ve been scavenging for the Tribe, you should be able to guess values enough to take the best pickings with you.

At the end of it you’re left with a handful of broken parts and one piece with wires sticking out at all ends. You leave the rest and head back to the entrance, half-regretful already.

Just out of the light of the entrance tunnel you came through, your instincts clamor at you loudly enough that you pause. As you do, Peg screams a warning from above, and you catch flashes of glowing red in the corner of your eye, to the right, in the darkness. Reacting without thought, you swing your satchel so it rests on the backs of your thighs, drop your lantern, and pull a black stick double the width of your thumb from your belt. You flick the switch and it buzzes and crackles with blue light. Zappers, the Tribe called them, and they were one of the few and best defenses against some kinds of mechabeasts.

When people came back up out of the bunkers, there were plenty of plant-eater mechabeasts to be found, as far as mechabeasts went. They didn’t eat the plants themselves, but if a herd of deer had one that thought it was one of them, that herd would happen to graze where there were plenty of pieces of pre-Collapse technology. In return, the mechabeast would keep the herd safe from flesh and blood predators. That said, it wasn’t free of being prey, and there were of course mechabeasts modeled after things like wolves and mountain lions, and those were nasty to run into if you were machine or man. You were lucky enough to avoid them before today.

Out of the shadows creeps three such mechabeasts, low to the ground. They look like rats, if rats were three feet long and had grinding gears instead of mouths. The sight sends a shiver down your spine, knowing flesh would stand less of a chance than metal, but if these things get to Peg it’s all over.

Without warning, you leap at the leftmost mechabeast, the one closest to the entrance. You manage to take it and the rest by surprise as you drive your baton end-first into the base of what would be a rat’s skull. Shocks run through the length of its chassis. Its tail and paws spasm and twitch until smoke rises from its head where the baton has it pinned to the ground. When you yank the baton free and spin out of the way of another rats leap, the first crumples to the ground.

One down, two to go.

As you turn on the other two rats, one of them opens its gnashing gearhole and lets loose a shriek that makes your vision blur. When the ringing clears your ears, you see both rats dart for the light-- Peg! You grab for one of the whipping tails disappearing up to the surface and your hand closes on air. Desperate, unthinking, you throw yourself back up the hole to the surface, catching your shirt on a bar as you go, and you manage to scrabble out onto the rusty red baked earth in time to see Peg fleeing over a pile of rubble.

What a smart not-horse.

The mechabeast rats turn back around on you with twin menacing, metallic hisses that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You raise your baton and charge, thoughtless, the rush of fire in your blood making time rush by like thick nectar. It catches the rats off guard again-- they really don’t react as fast as normal animals and it works against them well if you don’t give them any time at all.

Whack-crack! You send one sprawling and whirl in time to strike the jaw of the other one as it leaps at you. It drops, momentum and face broken, and you follow up the blow by driving your boot into its head. It drops in jerky motions while you spin on its stunned partner. Last one, you can finish this…

So why aren’t your legs going forward?

You look down. Oh. The red stain on your shirt is spreading-- now you remember, it’s from where you caught it on the bar a minute ago. It seems like such a long time now. You feel your hands tremble, your arms go slack and droop toward the ground. Above the dirt, your baton, crackling with blue light as it dangles from your suddenly weak fingertips. You feel your heart shake in your chest as you look at the mechabeast with its gnashing teethgears gathering itself to strike-- is this it?

You can’t help it, you giggle. It’s a little funny.

Then like the bugle of one of those angels old Klelan talks about, you hear a noise from a rise of rubble. Your loyal companion, Peg, thunders down the pile without stopping until it tramples the mechabeast rat, started by the horse’s sudden appearance.

With a sigh of relief, you let yourself slump to a knee and let the baton fall out of your hand to the dirt. You let your head hang while Peg devours the mechabeast corpse. Horses are funny like that. You could make more tickets from the parts it has, sure, but she’s more than earned it. Just for a second, you rest your eyes…

Falling to the ground jostles your now very obvious side wound, shocking your lungs into pulling in a gasp of air. Peg, at your side, looks down at you with wide red eyes. You think she looks worried.

“I’m alright gal,” you mutter, waving your hand in her face.

She nudges your hand with the end of her muzzle, then turns deliberately so your hand brushes the straps of her saddle. You tangle the leather in your fist and lock your arm, pulling yourself up without straining your side so your legs are under you. Braced against Peg, you’re able to haul yourself into the saddle. Dimly, you notice your satchel bumping against your back. Huh, you think, what luck.

[caramelmachete]

Blood from Flesh

This is a gen (no ship) case fic/mystery I’ve been working on. Dick Grayson centric, but everyone will show up eventually. It’s still very much a work in progress, and I would LOVE feedback and constructive criticism. No triggers in this chapter except for canon-typical violence, mention of blood, mention of drugs. Please read and tell me what you think. 

Chapter 1:

Ever since Tim raved about the new Greek place a few blocks away from Wayne Enterprises, Dick knew that he needed to try it. During a lunch break from a . . .  fascinating . . .  day of meetings, Dick decided to get out of the building as soon as possible, so decided to head over to gorge himself on moussaka and hummus.

He never made it there. A press of bodies in the crowd, a quick sting in his neck, hands at his elbows, and then nothing.

***

Dick woke up in a normal looking bedroom, hands and feet bound. He moved his arms and legs in small, isometric movements, testing the bounds. Whoever tied them was a huge fan of duct tape. Duct tape secured his hands behind his back and bound his ankles, and his mouth was taped shut. His suit jacket and button down shirt were gone, leaving him in his undershirt, socks and suit trousers. Closing his eyes against the dull ache in his head, Dick surveyed his body for any injuries. Small, dull aches in his neck and both biceps reminded him of the discomfort from injections, but he had no injuries. He rolled partway onto his back to confirm that his wallet and phone were missing. The wiggles made him realize something else - there were sticky bandages covering small cotton balls on the inside bends of both his right and left elbow. The kidnappers had drawn his blood. Twice.  

Dick contemplated the uncomfortable reasons they might want his blood for a few minutes, each theory more disconcerting than the last, then returned to examining the room. The low, steeply pitched roof made him think that he was probably in an attic. He couldn’t hear any road noise at all. The single window had thick curtains and probably black out blinds underneath, judging by the tiny amount of light he saw around the edges. He was lying on his side on a bare double mattress on a rickety wood frame. The room has a farmhouse feel, which tied in with the lack of traffic noise. A few sniffs confirmed that he was definitely smelling manure, so they took him out of Gotham, maybe pretty far out. The nearest major farming area from the city was at least an hour’s drive away from downtown.

His head woozy from whatever they used to knock him out, Dick started to review possible reasons for the kidnapping. Dick guessed that soon, his captors would need him for a ransom call or video. He could mark time passing pretty accurately in his head, but hours passed and no one came for him.

Dick waited for dark, and then worked on getting out of the yards of duct tape. He threaded his legs through his arms to get his hands in front of him and stood up. Most criminals had no idea how easy duct tape actually is to break. He raised his arms above his head, then jerked his arms down and towards his hips as hard and fast as can, snapping his elbows out wide. He got the tape off of his legs by quickly dropping into a squat. He gave a huge sigh of relief as he finally peeled the gag off, then moved to listen at the door. After a few moments of quiet, he heard soft rustling on the other side of the door, so Dick headed to the single window, silent in his socks. The window was secured by a padlock, but Dick had no trouble picking it with the tools concealed in his waistband.

Dick watched the farm yard until he felt confident that he knew the location and movements of the visible guards, then swung himself up to the roof. As he had hoped, no one was on the roof. Crouching low, he surveyed the scene. It was a cloudless early June night, so Dick located Ursa Major in the night sky and used it to find the North Star. He felt reassured that he could orient himself. A long driveway led north from the house towards a row of trees, probably lining a road. Dick saw a wheat field across the road - no good cover in that direction.  More fields lay to east and south, but the west had scattered trees and more rolling hills. Dick could conceal himself most easily in that direction, but it was in the wrong direction from Gotham. Dick wasn’t sure exactly where he was, but since Gotham was on the east coast, he hoped to eventually travel in that direction.

Dick ghosted across the roof, staying as low as possible, heading towards the lowest edge. After scanning his surroundings once more, he lowered himself to the ground, took a few silent steps along the house to silently take down one guard. He relieved the guard of her gun and phone, then snuck towards a shed towards the west of the property. He knew that any minute, someone could discover his empty room or the unconscious body of the guard.

He took out one more guard by the shed, relieved the guard of his possessions, then entered the small outbuilding. The owners used it as a garden shed mixed with a place to dump random junk. Dick hoped to find shoes, since cross trekking in the dark wearing only socks did not sound like his idea of a good time. He found several pairs of foam rubber clogs in various sizes, caked in mud. Dick sighed in resignation - Bruce and Alfred would not approve of Crocs - but selected the best fitting pair.  He grabbed a short piece of rebar that would work as a weapon if needed, and exited the shed.

The coast remained clear, so Dick crept towards the trees a few hundred yards behind the shed. Once in the trees’ cover, Dick increased his speed, moving to a steady jog that he could maintain for hours if needed. He checked the phones he borrowed from the goons, but both were locked with six digit pass codes that would take him too long to attempt to hack. He tried 000000, 123456 and a few other common ones with no luck, so he shoved the phones back in his pocket and kept moving. After a few minutes, he heard shouts. Someone had raised the alarm. Dick ran faster.

Dick heard the sound of a couple of four wheelers or dirt bikes, but they didn’t follow him into the forest. For the next couple of hours, Dick made his way roughly west, keeping to the trees as much as possible. After he hadn’t heard the sounds of pursuit for well over an hour, he decided to risk leaving the relative safety of the woods to find a road or any other landmark. Twenty more minutes of jogging before he got lucky enough to find a road. The road soon led him to a sign listing nearby towns, so he was finally able to figure out that he was in Gloucester County, about seventy miles west of Gotham. Dick headed in the direction of the nearest town, Bridgeville, and another half hour on rapidly blistering feet finally had Dick at a gas station.

He walked inside and gave the man behind the counter his best smile. “Can I please borrow your phone? I’ve been kidnapped.”

The worker gaped at Dick for a few moments, before managing, “Oh my god, I’m going to call 911.”

Dick smiled even wider. “No need to call 911. I’m going to call my butler.”

[hoodedmenace]

mutantxpower‌:

Of course they were. Why is it always let’s kill them all or let’s weaponize them for our own ends?

Erik grits his teeth and swallows his rage. The op is still salvageable. No one’s seen them yet. “Wha—Who caused the explosion?” What poor bastard was poked and prodded long enough to literally combust? “Were there any other survivors?” Because guess what, Jason, they’re not leaving until the scientists are dead.

Emma heard that last thought and cast him a weary look before returning her glare to Jason.

   Jason probably hasn’t been around the block as long as Erik, but he knows how to read a fucking room, alright?

   “I caused the motherfucking explosion,” he hisses, because sure, the guy who controls metal can rebend that rebar back into itself without blinked, but that doesn’t make him unreadable. “The set one of those fuckers loose on me—” He yanks his hood down and the side of his head is caked with blood. “And I already died once to last me the rest of my life. They must have packed C4 in the walls or something because whatever I did wasn’t this bad. They must have known that either a) they’re time was running short, or b) their experiments were just shoddy enough to warrant a permanent failsafe. Now do you fucking mind? I’m gonna get tetanus and you’ll have to find someone else to do your dirty work for you.”

[sublimeperfectionland]

New Moon of the Dark Kingdom Chapter Eighty Three - The Phantom

Zoisite and Kunzite have found true love, but when some old friends, a vengeful god, and a pair of evil twins are gunning for the Shitennou all at once, life is not going to be easy

[scene: The Midori household. Zoi is walking to the police radio, which is repeating its report that someone has found human remains at Blackmoon Cove. Before he can reach it, his father comes down the stairs.]

Chief Midori: [calmly] I've got this.

[He picks up the radio and walks outside, closing the door behind him.]

[Mamoru comes over and he and Zoi listen through the door.]

Chief Midori: all in fragments, no complete skeletons...? I assume three dozen is an approximate number...Did this anonymous caller say where to find this tunnel...And no weapons, dogs or any other signs on immediate danger...Yes, that is helpful. I'll go check it out now.

[Mamoru and Zoi back away from the door and try to look innocent as Chief Midori returns for his jacket and holster.]

Chief Midori: I've got to go, something just came up.

[Goes to the kitchen to throw together a quick ham sandwich to pack for dinner.]

Zoi: We can come with you.

[Mamoru nods]

Chief Midori: Thank you, but I'm quite capable of doing my job without a pair of teenagers tagging along.

Zoi: [looks leery] Dad. I don't like this. Why would anyone be calling in an anonymous tip from Blackmoon Cove at this hour of the evening?

[Chief Midori gives him a stern look for eavesdropping]

Zoi: I think you're walking into a trap.

Chief Midori: Well, don't worry. I'll be calling in the feds to come with me.

Zoi: Dad. I don't think it's a good idea—

Mamoru: Zoi, it's his job. And your father's been doing this longer than we've been alive. I'm sure he knows how to be careful in these types of situations.

[Zoi gives him an exasperated look and Mamoru gives him a subtle nod.

Chief Midori: That's right, son. I just want you to be careful to stay out of the woods, like I told you before.

Zoi: Yeah, Dad. Don't worry.

[Chief Midori gives him another stern look]

Zoi: Seriously, Dad.

[Chief Midori doesn't look convinced. Mamoru steps forward.]

Mamoru: I have a pre-calculus test to study for and I could use his help.

[Zoi looks up at Mamoru and nods vigorously at his father]

Zoi: Right…and if we get stuck we can always call Umino… In fact, I think I'll give him a call anyway and see what he's been up to. We haven't spoken in a while.

[Zoi abruptly closes his mouth as he remembers he just went to Oktoberfest with Umino. Fortunately, his father is too distracted to notice.]

Chief Midori: [absently] That's a good idea. You've been spending so much time with Kunzite lately, your friends are going to think you've forgotten them... say, you're going to study here. Then talk with Umino over the phone. Right?

Zoi: [angelic] Sure, where else?

[Chief Midori doesn't look entirely convinced but grabs his keys and heads for the door]

Chief Midori: No going outside. Not until I get back.

Zoi: Yes, dad.

Mamoru: Bye, Chief.

[Zoi and Mamoru watch through the curtains until he has driven off]

Zoi: [to Mamoru] You need to leave.

[Mamoru grins]

Zoi: Ur, sorry. ...I...I didn't mean it like that.

Mamoru: I knew what you meant.

[Gives a half wave as he walks out the back]

[Zoi takes out his phone and frantically dials Kunzite.]

[The call goes to voicemail. Zoi remembers that Kunzite has been sent a facesaving errand by Metalia, but tries three more times before he gives up and teleports away in a flurry of flower petals.]

[He reappears at a bluff overlooking the ocean and lit only by the moon and stars. At one time a huge mansion stood there, but there is nothing left of it except for bits of torn up foundation with charred and melted bits of rebar. The majority of the area is now a meadow filled with wildflower and fragile shoots of saplings, dwarfed by redwoods and other pines surrounding the parameter cut by a windy twist of roadway. Zoi scans the area with his heighted night vision. He doesn't see anyone, and hears only the crashing of the waves, but in the dark he can barely make out the entrance to the tunnel in the side of the hill, now choked with roots and vines. But Zoi doesn't need to see it to know where it is. He's been there before.]

[Zoi shudders at the memory. His existence as a human was cut short, not too long ago, by the Blackmoon Clan-who were in turn murdered in a brutal genocide by his fellow Shitennou. But even before then, his memories of the place are far from pleasant. Zoi walks over and brushes his hand over a metal door, camouflaged against the cliff wall with caked-on dirt. He has little doubt that door has been closed and locked until recently. Zoi takes one last look around before he enters the tunnel.

[It's a good thirty minute drive to there from his house, even if his father is using the siren on the squad car. As Zoi looks around, he's glad for the head start. He sees the bones right away. A few feet from the entrence. Thousands of shards, forming a mosaic on the floor. Skulls and larger bones are stacked against the wall, with fresh votive candles lit in each eye socket. Zoi peers closely and the candlewax is barely melted. Someone must have been there to light them, but he can detect no signs of a recent presence.]

Zoi: Who's there?

[He receives no reply.]

[Zoi continues to search until he reaches a locked door at the end of the hall. This has to be a trap, but he can see no sign of it. There is nothing for him to do but wait for his father to arrive.]

[He knows Chief Midori will be furious, but Zoi won't let him go into danger. He tries to wait for him in the tunnel, but the entire scene is too unnerving. Even for a Shitennou. He leaves the tunnel to wait by the clearing.]

[Then he sees it. A big bear shape easing out of the trees, quiet as a shadow and stalking deliberately towards him. It is enormous, at least eight feet. To a casual observer it might appear to be a bear, but thicker, and too sleek. Then the figure levitates, and Zoi realizes he is looking at a wraith. A phantom in a black hooded cloak, with glowing iridescence skin, and a skull for a face.]

[It is terrifying to look upon, even from a distance, but it floats over and stops a mere ten feet away from him]

Wraith: Zoisite Midori. We meet at last.

Zoi: You know who I am?

Wraith: I know who you are, and I know what you are. I am an old friend of your mother's.

Zoi: You mean Metalia? [Zoi is certain his real mother would have mentioned a have a nine-foot tall skull-headed wraith as a friend at least once]

Wraith: Who else?

Zoi: W-who are you.

Wraith: I am called Wiseman.

[the-uptake]

The Uptake, The 704. 2|0|0|-. Book One, Chapter Eleven. Part 1 (Parts 2 & 3)

Tw: Limb injury.

A fresh yard site could provide a change of scenery to clear his head, right?

Every time he came home without Galen in tow, it became that much harder for Torber to keep from their family that he’d found Galen. For six months, the Miners believed Galen had left or died. For two weeks, Torber had known otherwise. Though he’d brought Galen a cake on his eighteenth birthday, Torber had not mentioned to him that the whole family had gone to the Pyre Block earlier that same day; in order to deliver the gift, Torber had cut out after their visitation under the guise of needing some time to himself. He wondered how much longer he could keep up what essentially amounted to a double life, how much longer he could keep lying to his family about something like this. But how could he explain to them what had happened, if he didn’t completely understand it himself?

The complex duplicity of his situation led to a lapse in concentration. A piece of rebar tumbled off the drift he was working. It slammed down on his hand. He failed to stifle hollering about it. A couple other stalkers called out to check on him. He called back an all-clear. He ignored the sharp, throbbing pain several minutes. But, his hand had begun to swell up, and he couldn’t move two of his fingers on that hand. He gnashed his teeth beneath his respirator, and mentally skirted the certainty that he’d broken it. He’d only been on site at that yard a few hours at best, but the pain was too much for him. Seeing Bell about it would cost more than it was worth. Clouded by spite he snatched up the rogue piece of rebar and headed home.

With his respirator and goggles pulled down around his neck, Torber ran down in his head what first aid he could toss together in the apartment. He struggled one-handed to lockpick his own front door, fumbling with his trifold to put the pick back in its place then return the wallet to his back pocket. Such a dexterous task was that much more difficult lacking the use of one’s dominant hand. Though he bee-lined it to the bathroom to dig in the medicine cabinet, briefly he reeled from the mental whiplash of momentarily perceiving the way his bed sheet had been wadded up to resemble Galen.

He flung the rebar down in the hall in a reverberating frustration that his stress was getting bad enough to be making him see things.

The medicine cabinet yielded a bottle of antiseptic to deal with the nasty grinding cut he’d gotten from the rebar, but he didn’t find anything bigger than bandaids, so he went to the nightstand drawer to locate an old shirt he could cannibalize for a bandage. As he dug absently in the drawer, he realized the bedding was neither the same color as what he’d seen in his peripheral nor in the same shape, and he instantly snapped to his feet at the sound of rustling in the living room. He caught Galen trying to sneak out the door unnoticed.

“--Hey” was all Torber could stutter out in startled objection.

Galen froze, relieved it had been Torber but still caught in the act.

“What ya doin’ home?” Galen asked sheepishly, pulling his hood down.

“Slag why I’m here--why YOU here!” Suddenly his hand didn’t hurt so much.

“I... I come by s, s, sometimes. Didn’t wanna fess it.”

“How long y’been comin’ around--?” Sooner than process the fact Galen was standing in their apartment right in front of him, Torber couldn’t help but catastrophize the train wreck of anybody else coming home to find Galen here, and he was fast to devising ways to hide him quickly.

“Jus, s,s usst a few times. I... I, maybe four times now.” Galen looked up at the door anxiously. “Can I go now?”

“Y’really wanna--” Torber trailed off, biting his tongue. Galen wasn’t ready to come home yet, but here he was coming home anyway. “Yeah, it’s fine. Y’stay much longer, y’likely t’run into the kids.”

Galen couldn’t help but feel guilty for being uncomfortable staying, and he lingered, eyes on Torber’s feet. He quickly noticed Torber’s hand.

“Ya dreg, I knew it was bad y’was home middle the day! What happened!”

“Ain’t nothin’, man. I’ll manage.”

“Nothin’ my ass. Lemme see.”

Torber hesitated, but held it up with a sorry look on his face.

“I was tryin’ t’find a bandage or somethin’ t’wrap it.”

“Gotta better idea. Do one better. ...Slag f’that don’t look broken.”

“I ain’t goin’ t’the Clinic, Gale.”

Galen’s internal speculations halted, whether his brother’s injury had been the byproduct of a negotiator fistfight, and his face tightened at the mere mention.

“Ain’t nobody goin’ back to the Clinic.”

Tone alone put the hairs on Torber’s neck on end; he knew better than to ask for clarification.

“What’s y’bright idea then?”

The metahuman discarded his chance to get out of the house and started digging in the still open drawer of the nightstand. He held up a tee-shirt.

“This one ok?”

“I don’t-- yeah, that’s fine.”

Torber watched passively as Galen helped him clean and wrap his dominant hand. Then Galen’s gloves came off and he wrapped his hands around Torber’s wrist. The pained concentration in Galen’s face left the elder brother speechlessly questioning what was wrong.

“Gotta work up a sweat,” Galen replied, reading Torber’s slack face. “Gonna make y’a cast.”

It didn’t take long before the metahuman managed to coax the stimulus to sweat, his forehead shining in a brassy high contrast to his pallor as liquid metal began to pour from his palms and saturate the torn fabric. The finesse with which Galen worked reminded Torber of someone sculpting very soft clay: Galen coated his wrist, hand, and index, middle, and ring fingers, but did so with an open, skeletal structure which allowed the skin to breathe. He stopped after he’d applied a solid layer, not more than a third of a centimeter, then held the arm out for it to dry. At first, the sensation had been cold, and now as it hardened Torber’s skin felt clammy. He shoved down the compulsion to comment on the sulfurous smell of the moisture evaporating from the layer of metal. As it dried, the metal took on a turquoise and white crust patina with sharp contrast flecks of a golden yellow.

Galen licked his hand clean, trying to compartmentalize the effect lapping up even those small smears of metal was having, to prevent himself from getting worked up over it; the thought process produced a detached demeanor to the instruction he gave next.

“Give it a couple more minutes t’set up nice, an’ we can wrap the other half of the shirt around it so it don’t look as weird.”

Torber turned his arm this way and that best he could, gawking admiringly at the makeshift cast as he adjusted his knit cap with his free hand.

“Dude I can see your fingerprints in it. This is so. Wow.”

“I didn’t figure I needed t’really smooth it out much.”

“--This’s copper, ain’t it.”

Galen choked up and withdrew from him, flushing deep blue in the face.

“I, I, I had t’leave mostuvit in the alley after, but. I. I. Yeah.”

Trying to diffuse the stupid question, Torber pulled him into a hug.

“Hey now, I don’t mean nothin’ by it. This is so chouay. Thanks.”

“I, I hope it helps.”

“It already feels a ton better, man.”

Galen looked up at the alarm clock in the bedroom, and reached into his pockets to retrieve his gloves with a resignation.

“It’s, like, not even fifteen minutes ‘til they get back from s, s, school.”

A long silence followed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Gale, but I really don’t think y’should just be sittin’ here when they get here.”

“I’ll lea--”

“No, no, no.” Torber held onto him tighter to prevent him from squirming away. “I mean, I think I should talk to ‘em first. Give ‘em a little... context. The way y’came t’me, I figure it’d... Well, I don’t know how I’d set up some forewarnin’ or nothin’, but maybe not catch ‘em totally off guard any rate.”

“I, I, I, --I was real lost that night,” he apologized, swallowing hard at the reminder of how badly he’d screwed up the night he’d approached Torber. “Ss, still lost. Less, s lost now, but, s, still.”

“Bro, if I was still upset about it, y’think I’d a kept comin’ back t’see ya?” Torber laughed genuinely at his own pun: “Don’t sweat it.”

“That was bad.”

“Gotta smile outta ya, though.” He took Galen by the shoulder and started walking to the living room. “I think y’could hide out in the far end of the closet. ‘Til Dad gets home.”

“I, I dunno--”

“Y’can take a nap, maybe,” he continued, opening the left half of the folding accordion door and parting the hanging clothes. “It ain’t too cramped.”

Galen didn’t have any more time to object, panicking as he heard running footsteps bounding up the stairs and down the hall, and he shoved himself down into the corner as fast as possible. Torber practically slammed the door behind him.

Vana pushed the door open, holding it for her brothers as she continued her story.

“--an’ that’s why Jim is a jerk. I’m tellin’ ya, he won’t stop it even if y’tell Ms. Prendergast on him.”

“I’ll punch him for ya,” Orpi offered, tossing his backpack down against the closet door. “Oh, hey Torb. Y’sure are home early.”

“I, ah, yeah. Ha. I was a klutz and hurt my hand.”

“Is it broke?” The other two backpacks joined the pile.

“Nah. Got cut up pretty bad, though.”

“Y’don’t need stitches or nothin’?” Galen could see through the slats of the door that Vana was trying to get Torber to show them his hand, but he wouldn’t let them get very close. “What y’got on it? That’s real hard an’ it smells weird.”

“--I wrapped some yard junk on it. It’s clean, promise.”

“The door’s open.”

“I’m gonna be fine, Ruti.” Though accustomed to the phrase, Torber couldn’t not stare off at the closet door, and ultimately broke off to dig in the right side of the closet in the kids’ toys to diffuse his nerves. “Why don’t y’tell me what all y’did at school today? Vana, what’s your classmate doin’ that the teacher’s ignorin’?”

“She ain’t ignorin’ it. He ignorin’ her. He a jerk, Torber.” She dragged out her cars and loop-tracks, and started building a track while she talked. “He won’t lemme play with my other friends if they playin’ with him. Like, today. He told me he didn’t want a girl playin’ Space Force with ‘em. I wanted t’be Commander Gorsch! Dean an’ Patrick wasn’t bein’ mean about it, but the instant Jim says a word they clam up. An’ it’s always like that.” The sound of a car wreck punctuated her irritation.

“I told ya, I’ll punch ‘im if y’say so,” Orpi repeated, sitting at the folding table by the closet.

“I’ll punch him too,” Ruti seconded, sitting down on the floor next to him.

“Nobody’s punchin’ nobody,” Torber grunted, sitting in the other folding chair opposite Orpi. “Orpi, you especially. A teenager ain’t beatin’ up a slaggin’ eight year old, man. For shame.”

“He bein’ a dreg to my lil’ sis.”

Galen couldn’t handle hearing them all in such close proximity to him, not having heard their voices, seen their faces, in so long. He sank back against the back corner of the closet, as far back as he could, and buried himself in the hanging clothing again, trying to tune it all out while he mentally rehearsed for when he’d eventually reemerge. But, no amount of preparation felt adequate. He’d nearly drifted off, finally letting himself be comforted by the sounds of his family, to hear the front door swing open.

“Daddy!” Ruti ran up and latched onto his leg.

“Hey buddy,” Dolom smiled, patting him on the head and trailing off. “Torber, y’leave y’phone at home or somethin’? Been tryin’ t’raise y’all afternoon.”

“I, no-- Slag, I didn’t even realize y’texted me.” Torber shot up from the couch from where he’d been watching TV with the kids, and walked up to him. “I screwed up my hand earlier. Came home t’take care f’it. An’ there’s... somethin’ else, came up.”

“Are y’ok? I needed y’help with a deal, found a canister of Carbamex I need t’unload. Y’know how bad my nerve is, gettin’ ridda blacklist stuff.”

“--I’ll be fine, Dad. I’ll help ya unload it first thing in the morning. But about that thing that came up... Y’should probably sit down.”

“What? What is it?”

“--I found Galen.”

A long, heavy silence. Suddenly the father understood why Torber had been so severed from reality not to notice his phone getting blown up. Dolom’s head whipped around in concern at the younger ears hearing any more details.

“We can finally put him t’rest, then. ...Y’sure it’s him?”

Torber screwed his face up and threw his hat on the coffee table, starting to pace.

“--No, I found him. Guess it’s more accurate t’say he found me.”

“What! He ok?”

“Told ya he flaked,” Orpi muttered under his breath. Vana punched him in the arm hard. “OW! What’s that for!”

“...Thank you. That, I approve of. Galen had every reason t’flake. He, he was scared. An’ it’s... understandable. He... don’t quite look like himself anymore. --But he’s still Galen. An’ for however scared he is, last thing he’s wanted was t’scare us. I was scared at first, t’be truthful. So yeah. I found him. An’... he’s here.”

“Since when!” Vana cried out, exasperated. “We been home for two hours! Just us here!”

Galen took it as as good a cue as any to open the closet door and scoot forward through the clothes, making certain his hood stayed pulled down as he slumped against the frame of the door. He looked up anxiously to see everybody piled over the back of the couch, staring in shock.

Ruti was the first to unfreeze, running up to Galen and cramming himself up in his lap. Recovering from the near-tackle, he got a death-grip on his youngest brother and gnashed his teeth, sniveling.

“The slag y’doin’ in the closet, twip!!” Orpi roared, doubling over laughing at him. “Y’been in there half a year or somethin’!?”

“Sh’up, twip--” Galen choked out.

“--Galen where y’even been--” Dolom couldn’t hold it back anymore and stood, his approach prompting everyone to pile into the floor around Galen.

Torber stood off from the rest, still struggling with directing conversation. Reunions weren’t exactly something negotiators typically handled. Besides, he’d already had his reunion with Galen, and didn’t want to interfere with theirs.

“EW! Y’need a bath.” Ruti groaned with a fake snarl, playfully pushing him away. The roughhousing knocked his hood back, and suddenly they were all back to staring at him again.

“I--”

“Told y’all it was gonna take some gettin’ used to,” Torber chirped flatly, uncertain how well things were going.

On to Part 2 »»» || On to Part 3 »»»

[purpleflamingosarelife]

I felt the freezing morning air crush my lungs as I bounded on lead feet, fighting the thick smoke and dust as I scrambled about the street. 

I didn’t care who was behind me, who was coming. None of that mattered to me. It was just me and my feet, which I forced upon the asphalt no matter how hard it hurt. 

“Presley!” I could hear Everett calling me from the distance, his voice hinting that he was in a swivet. The street around us was oddly silent, save for that voice. 

That voice in my head that always had something to say.

“Look what you’ve done, Presley,”  the voice played up. I shook my head and tried to ignore it. It was pushed from my head for the brief moment in which I collapsed to my knees. I could feel the glass and bits of cement cutting through my jeans and into my skin. 

I shoved myself back up, forcing myself to look around. There was rubble everywhere. The crowd of people that’d been gathered outside of the building were nowhere to be seen now. 

“How does it feel, Presley? How does it feel to know you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself?” I covered my ears, punching the sides of my head. 

“Get out of my head!” I screamed. “Get the fuck out!” 

“Make me,” Victor sneered in his deep, gravelly voice. “It’s for your own good.” 

I looked through my tears at the dusty bodies emerging from the remnants of the office building. They were all nearly unrecognizable-- grey and bloody. 

“How is this good for me?” I shouted. “How THE FUCK is this good for me, Victor motherfucking Sanchez? How!” I was now hyperventilating, my jaw and temple hurt from screaming so loud. 

I had to fix this. It had been my fault that this happened and I needed to try and fix it. I closed my eyes, trying to calm down. 

I can reach them. Anyone who’s alive, I can reach them, I thought. If I could lift even a bit of this cement-- save one life. If only. 

I held out my hands and exhaled. I could feel the strain on my finger tips as a few pieces of concrete lifted into the air. People screamed in shock and ran away, scrambled like ants. Feeling the pressure increase on my temples and eyes, I willed them to go off to the side. Once I dropped them, I started gasping to air. I was too drained for this, and those chunks of concrete were heavy. 

I kept moving things, no matter how much it hurt, until I found a body. I sighed with relief and ran over, grabbing their arms. I didn’t bother to check for life. As long as I could get them out. 

I went to put my hands out again when Everett grabbed me. 

“Stop!” He warned. “This isn’t healthy!” 

“I have to help them, Everett,” I sobbed as I wrestled out of his grip. “I can’t do nothing.” I tried lifting more cement with my telekinesis, but all I could do was fall to the ground, dizzy. My eyes hurt and I felt like I’d been chewing gum for three days straight. I caught myself on my hands and noticed just how much blood was dripping from my nose. Everett grabbed me again and pulled me off of my knees, starting to drag me back. I screamed and kicked until I managed to make him drop me. I crawled back to the pile of rubble and grabbed the biggest slab of concrete I could. I lifted with all of my strength, only managing to move it an inch or so. 

A bloody hand all of the sudden punched out from the dust and started waving frantically. I grabbed it to show that I was trying to help. It squeezed mine as I started brushing at the dust. I dug at it until I saw hair and dug more until I saw a nose. 

The man forced his head up from the debris, gasping for air. There was blood everywhere. 

“Hey! It’s ok, hey! Calm down!” I wheezed as I wiped his eyes off. He looked up at me with hazel orbs that were tainted with fear and pain. His lips parted and blood spilled out. 

“I’m not--” he grunted with pain. “I’m not gonna make it,” he growled in a strained voice. “Please, save someone else. I’m not worth it.” My tears washed some filth from his hand. 

“No- no! I’m gonna get you out of here,” I cried. “The cops are on the way, it’s ok.” He shook his head and coughed blood.

“I got somethin’ stuck in my stomach, some rebar or somethin’,” he groaned. “It hurts real bad. I’m bleeding so much, man... I’m dead weight. Just... Just go. Please. There are people who will make it.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you,” I sobbed. He laid his head back, closing his eyes. 

“I’m dead. Just find my wife and tell her I love her and the kids. Please.” He breathed a few more times before stopping. I tried shaking him and hitting him-- nothing worked. 

I knew he was gone, but I felt like if I kept trying, he’d open his eyes again. He didn’t. 

“Give it up. You can’t save them all and you know it.” 

I started sobbing. It was true. I did know it. 

Denial, my brain screamed, deny it. You’re better than that. I listened.

“I can... I know it. You’re wrong.”

“You have to learn, Presley. You have to know.” I continued to bawl as I rolled onto my back, looking at the sky. Seeing the burning sun was better than torturing myself with that sight. Victor continued. “Why do you even try? You owe them nothing. None of them care about you. Why? Why do you do this to yourself? It would be so much better for you if you just let the ones who deserve to burn catch fire and burn.” 

“Because I’m not a pile of filth like you, Victor! I don’t hurt people for pleasure. I care.”

He laughed. The chuckle rang through my skull. Every time the sound waves bounced off a wall of my brain, I hated myself more. 

“And that, my dear, will be your downfall. People like you who care, they’re the worst kind. They’re weak, and they’re willing to do anything to help even those who don’t deserve it. Did you know that there’s a serial killer under that rubble? He’s still alive.” I sprang up. 

“Good,” I seethed. “I’ll save him.”

“That’s the thing. Why save him, Presley? He’s nothing. He’s killed people. Hell, he’s no better than me.” 

“He’s still a human being and he deserves a chance.” I began digging furiously. “You know what? I’d save you, too.”

“But why? Even after what I did? Even after I confused you, toyed with your dreams to the point that you couldn’t differ reality from fantasy. Even after I made you so angry that you collapsed a building that you thought would kill me, only for you to find that said building was holding the city’s largest convention. After that, you’d still spare me. Why?” 

I finally reached his body, pulling him from the debris. Surely enough, he was the very man that was wanted in Connecticut for the murder of four girls. 

I had to stop and think about why I would actually want to save him. Then it came clear.

The air was eerily silent, despite the several wounded people crying and digging through the pile of concrete senselessly, the arrival of the police and firemen. I felt the blood on my hands and my clothes, caked on my lower face, the occasional streak drawn by my tears. 

“Well?”

I looked around. Everett was speaking to a police officer, a fireman was headed towards me. 

“Because I want to kill you my way,” I replied. Even to me, my words were colder than ice. 

But it’s funny how the truth is always cold.