#this fucking guy has used our rooftop to run off to one of our neighbors house and we had to go there to bring him back

[meowkusunoki]

if nobui was an animal she would be a gray tabby. specifically the gray tabby we have here at home because hes a MENACE and a STUPID IDIOT

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

You are Never Far (A Very Special Solar Opposites Episode)

Raindrops falling. People freaking out. Footsteps running. Tears runs down Korvo’s cheek as he tearfully heads towards the family’s house breaking down.

SLAM!

A door slam was heard by Terry, only to gasp once he got a text from one of his friends. Phoebe was playing with the Pupa until she notices Korvo crying in tears. Korvo made it to the room in tears as he breaks down emotionally.

How did it happened? What happened was earlier Korvo was having a spat one of the most hateful neighbors of all time, Roxy. Roxy keeps on telling him how much he is a nuisance to his family and always have been. But that is when she pushes him too far.

“Will stop thinking about your family and go use on your help for once? They don’t like you!’

‘You don’t understand what we have been through! Our life is enough love as it! You’re just being selfish Roxy!”

(screaming) “THEN TELL ME ABOUT, YOU FUCKING CUNT?!

Korvo violently snaps and gives Roxy as brutal massive blood shedding beat down as Roxy screams in horror, which attracted a lot of humans. Korvo stopped after seeing Yumyulack and Jesse walking and saw him in shock and horror.

Terror spread around the crowds’ faces as they backed away from Korvo’s massive meltdown as tears threaten to burst as he growls at Roxy one more time and runs off in crying his eyes out.

“Wait, hold on-“

Sadly, Roxy was arrested and forced to be sentence to four months of house arrest for her brutal treatment on Korvo. The crowd ultimately looked at her with burning anger and outrage disgust as they can help but feel disdain over what she has done to Korvo.

How could she do that? What is her problem? She had no right to do that to a coping alien.

That night, Terry was sleeping on his bed until he heard something on the roof. He turns and to his horror, sees Korvo ready to jump off. Screams were heard as Phoebe got up and alerted the kids. The kids were terrified once they see an asleep sobbing Korvo about to fall of the roof.

Yumyulack: Korvo! Have you lost your fucking mind?

Jesse: What the fuck are you doing?

Pupa: *gasp in sadness*

Phoebe: What’s wrong with him Terry?

Terry suddenly sees panic muscles beating on Korvo’s shoulders. Realizing what is happening to Korvo, Terry rushes up on the rooftop and catches Korvo in his arms safely on the ground.

Inside, Phoebe then made tea for Korvo, who appears to be in a shock state. The Replicants, Pupa and Terry watches in worry.

Jesse: Korvo, come on please talk to us.

Yumyulack: Eh, I’m sure he’ll bounce back.

Jesse: Yumyulack! Yumyulack: What?! It’s true!

Phoebe: Easy there kids, I’m sure your adult is gonna be okay. He is gonna be just fine.

Suddenly, Korvo started to move but instead, he emotionally burst into tears as he started to have a panic attack. Terry gasp in shock as Phoebe helps the Replicants and Pupa back away in worry and concern.

Terry: Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Hey! Heal Korvo! It’s okay!

Korvo: No, it’s not. *breathing frantically* I can’t take this dark world anymore. I don’t deserve anyone. I’m just a total jackass who always ruin everyone’s lives and make a mess of things. I can’t take it anymore, my rage, my skin condition, my whole life on Earth. I just hate myself! You guys….you guys are better off without me…….

Korvo breaks down in tears as he hunch over his knees and started to goobler. Terry, seeing his hurt and struggling his Korvy is, brings him in a hug followed by Phoebe, the kids and the Pupa as Korvo began to weep silently.

Terry: *rubbing Korvo’s back soothingly* Shhh…. It’s okay Korvy, I’m here.

Phoebe MacCarthy: We all are.

Jesse: Oh Korvo.

Yumyulack: We’re really sorry Roxy said that stuff to you. But that is not true.

Terry: Korvo, you do matter to us. You’re our mission leader. You have so much life to live for. You kept us in check, you take great care of the Replicants, you do well with manuals and other stuff, but out of all that, you do care about us and you are our family Korvo! We don’t wanna be without you, you matter so much to us. You’re my Korvy and always will be. We’re gonna get you help Korvo. I promise. It’s gonna be okay.

Korvo continues to weep as his family continue to comfort him. After so much solace, Korvo has never been so overwhelmed by the love his worker husband in crime, Replicants, Pupa and family nanny as he continues to shed a few tears.

Three weeks later, Korvo has enter therapy which has helped him get better and receives some consulting over anxiety and trauma. Things were back to normal. But, Korvo, after spending 4 years on Earth, felt like crying again because he had no idea how much trauma he faced and how overwhelmed he was all this time because he wanted to leave this planet. Suddenly, all he sees now is his Terry smiling at him, knowing how much consoling his boyfriend needs right now. Instantly, Terry puts his arms around Korvo as he let it all out, but this time, safe in his sweetheart’s arms.

It’s okay Korvy. It’s okay……

Note: This fanfic was inspired by a real life anxiety I am facing evacuee so much changes and newfound responsibilities I have to do right now, because I have to be more independent and reliable for my family. But, it was all because I was facing the new responsibilities of being a responsible young adult. I hope this help other people too. I love you guys so much, goodnight

[thoughtlessarse]

Standing behind a podium on a rooftop bar in Detroit, Michigan, Nick Fuentes rushes to wrap up his speech before security shuts his party down. Fuentes, a Christian nationalist livestreamer best known for latching onto Kanye West’s pro-Hitler presidential campaign, looks out at the crowd. VIP guests of the neighboring Turning Point USA convention, officers of county GOPs, and members of Young Republican clubs pack the bar. “Everybody’s making a hard turn for ‘Fuck off Jew.’ It’s a hard right turn,” Fuentes says, laughing. The line is a reference to “Heck Off, Commie,” a far-right YouTube show run by one of Fuentes’s competitors. The crowd eats it up, chanting back “Fuck off Jew, fuck off Jew.” Fuentes shakes his head, grinning. “No, but that’s only a joke!” He then gets serious, turning to former President Donald Trump’s support of Israel. The issue has always been a point of contention for Fuentes and has only intensified since October 7. Trump used to be their voice, Fuentes says, but now he seems more concerned with Israel. “I don’t know about you guys, but when he goes up there and says, ‘We’re gonna throw out all the anti-Israel protesters,’ that’s not my voice,” Fuentes says, referring to Trump’s promise to deport any foreign students participating in pro-Palestine protests on college campuses. “You know that I am your voice,” Fuentes reassures them. “So in the spirit of me being your voice, I want you to raise your right hand, and repeat after me: ‘I solemnly swear that I will put America First and I will put Israel last every single time, because Christ is our king.’” As he pauses for the audience response, people hold their right hands up as though they are taking a pledge. One man extends his arm into a Sieg Heil, giving Fuentes the Nazi-era salute as he repeats the words. Some people drop their hands early, perhaps noticing the salute, or maybe just tired of the position. But others slowly stretch their arms out too. By the end of the pledge, several people have made Sieg Heils. -“Because Christ is our king.” Welcome to the fourth America First Political Action Conference.

continue reading

Doesn't he know tRump wants to deport Jews to Israel? That's why tRump's pro-Israel and why he doesn't care about the Palestinians

[lady-z-writes]

What Lies Beneath - Chapter 1 (Heisenberg x Reader) (Heisenberg x OC)

Posting this here too! Feel free to subscribe on AO3.

Chapter 1 is up of my new Heisenberg/reader (Heisenberg/OC) story.

Summary: A trip to a neighboring village introduces Heisenberg to Reader – a Cadou experiment that didn’t quite meet Miranda’s standards. Reader was told to stay away from the Lords – as her powers will only make them weaker – but there’s something alluring about this rugged man, especially when he’s between her thighs.

Boot stomps sound through the halls of the church, their echoes drown out by the yelling in the lobby. Heisenberg lights a cigar as he shoves through the doors, returning to the brisk winter air.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” he mutters, stomping through the snow.

Every ‘family’ meeting is rough, each one getting harder to hide his disdain for his ‘mother.’ But today…especially today, given the timing of things.

Heisenberg doesn’t remember much about his childhood before Miranda, but he remembers that trip his dad took him on – it was around this time of year. It was a time when his dad could break away from the factory, trek through the mountains until they hit a nearby village where they spent some time fishing. That’s all he remembers…some big snowstorm, a collapsing snowdrift almost taking them out, and fishing. Other than that, it’s all blank.

Days like this make it impossible to get passed that resentment he feels toward Miranda. Snowy weather leaves him wondering just how many fishing trips his dad planned to take him on before he was killed, before his son was experimented on, before the whole village went to shit thanks to that bitch.

The cold air and the cigar should make his lungs ache, but he’s so used to it by now. Coat billowing around him, he makes a rash decision and takes a right toward the southernmost mountains.

It isn’t often that he can sneak away from the ‘family’ without anyone knowing. He’d only been away for a while once and thankfully Moreau covered for him when they questioned his absence. If Moreau actually thought he was with him is another question entirely.

The one trip he took led him to the wrong place – no village in sight and by the time he arrived back, it was too late to try another path before the questioning began from his ‘family.’

'Where were you?’

'Why did you miss a meeting?’

'Mother is pissed.’

'Did you get lost in that factory?’

This time around, he had a better plan: got ahold of some old maps left behind in the village, plotted out his path and where his assumption was for the other village, waited until the opportune moment to leave town for a bit. And the opportune moment was directly after a meeting.

He didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he found it. Surely there’s no father to go fishing with so what’s the point?

The point is that he shouldn’t be confined to this stupid village, shouldn’t be one of Miranda’s toys, should be finite and human – not a monster. The point is that he’s chasing something and that probably says a lot about him and needs unburied, but now is not the time for self-counseling.

The climb through the mountains is exhausting, even for him, but he keeps pushing through just in case he ends up empty again, in case the village doesn’t exist in this area either.

The journey makes him start to doubt again, like he’s done so many nights before: maybe this isn’t his memory, but something else entirely. Maybe this was just a story he was told as a child; one that his young imagination ran wild with. Maybe…

A few hours into the journey, several cigars later, frozen limbs, and a sopping wet jacket, and he spots it: several rooftops through the clearing. He lets out a huff then a laugh as his feet carry him forward.

So, it did exist…this whole time…

Thought leaves him as soon as he hears a growl in the distance. Hammer at the ready, he doesn’t even have time to attack when he’s knocked off his feet by something he can only describe as Lycan-adjacent.

The antlers are what get him – stab at his neck before he swings his hammer to knock it off. And then he’s running – dodging trees because, oh fuck, that thing got right back up.

The village comes into view quickly after a few more run-ins with this antler-beast. It charges him again only for him to dodge, grab it by the antlers, and snap them like a wishbone. Blood pools as he slowly backs away, watching the dying thing twitch in the snow.

Sauntering on, he swings his hammer back over his shoulder, touches his throat wound with a ‘huh’ leaving his lips.

Odd.

An abandoned house sits near where he remembers fishing with his father, but he can’t remember what this used to be. Everything seen with fresh eyes, it seems like a lifetime ago – feels more like a dream than reality.

He continues on.

“You’re a fresh face,” comes a voice, almost startling him. Almost.

Spinning on his heels, he shifts his hammer, scans around. A thin womanly figure floats down from out of a tree. She’s cloaked in moss and tree bark, her features soft and almost kind. Heisenberg doesn’t lower his hammer.

“Such a bad day for traveling,” though she doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, Heisenberg sniffles at her. “What are you doing out here, stranger?”

“Just out for a stroll,” he drawls. “Passing through.”

She steps closer and he steps back, aware that there’s nowhere to board up except the abandoned house. The tree woman extends her palms forward in an almost-innocence.

“Let me take you somewhere nice,” she motions behind her, as if that tree is ‘somewhere nice.’ Heisenberg doesn’t want to find out what she means. “Handsome guy like you…I could indulge in.”

He’s about to swing his hammer when he goes toppling to the ground again, the Earth feeling like it’s shifting beneath him – a dizzying in his head as he fights off another one of those antler-creatures.

Shifting his hand, he can feel the metal from objects inside the abandoned house. With a blink, they go flying through the air to impale the beast atop him. Growling sounds louder, foot stomps, and then a puncture to his neck. It’s not an antler this time, doesn’t feel as thick or grating, and when he looks out of the corner of his eye it’s the tree-lady crouched over him with a needle poking from her wrist into his neck.

Shoving her off then rising to his feet, he collects himself, pulls the metal scraps to float around him, but falters in a dizzy spell.

The tree woman laughs. “Much mightier than I thought. And powers, too!”

Blinking hard, Heisenberg sways on his feet, slamming his hammer down to catch himself. Breaths coming out ragged, he lowers his head to his hands.

This can’t be happening.

Shoving the metal forward as best he can, he realizes that he’s missed: the woman is beside him now.

“Aw, poor man,” she’s seductive suddenly, reaching for him, touching his arm. She seems to ignore the horned beasts surrounding them – or, rather, they ignore her. “Don’t you want to come and warm up?”

He wants to shove her off, but his body isn’t functioning properly. He feels like he’s stuck in a trance. Fingers twitching to shift the metal around them, he manages to kill one of the beasts before she grips his jacket and pulls him closer.

“You bitch,” he huffs, feeling her body pressed against him, his own reacting to their proximity.

She laughs. “Don’t fight it, sugar. You could use a nice release, couldn’t you? So pent up.”

Her lips are pressing to his and it’s almost as if he’s completely lost control. Her taste is exquisite, enticing, he can’t get enough. The hammer falls to the snow as he kisses her back, hand trailing behind her, pulling her into him harshly. A low moan leaves him but it sounds far away. Feeling is leaving his fingers – from the cold or something else, he isn’t sure. All he knows is he needs this.

“Serena, stop!” comes a yell from behind them and it feels like a slap to the face.

The beasts are no longer tame, but they growl in place.

Heisenberg is shoved back as another woman steps in between him and this tree woman Serena. His hands are grabbing for her though – contact, he needs contact – but they fall short and land on this new woman. He can’t seem to stop himself.

“Leave us alone, [Y/N]! This has nothing to do with you,” the tree woman Serena says.

[Y/N]? Heisenberg isn’t familiar…

Breaths are coming out in deep huffs like he’s been running. His head is foggy, trance-like still.

“Do you have any idea who this is?” [Y/N] asks, a small squeak leaving her as he loops his fingers up under her shirt, traces his calloused hands over her belly, inching up toward her breasts, dips his head to the crook of her neck.

“No, but my pheromones seem to work well on him. I was so close to total control.”

He’s sort of aware of this comment from the plant lady – enough that he pulls back from [Y/N] completely.

[Y/N] turns to him then, presses her hands to his shoulders. “Snap out of it,” she urges, “focus.”

Heisenberg finds himself staring into her eyes, focusing on the surroundings, has so many damn questions right now, but the scene before him keeps spinning.

Serena takes a swing at [Y/N] but she dodges, ducks under her blast of whatever-the-fuck-petals-those-are, and delivers a strong punch to her face. As the girls fight, Heisenberg blinks heavily and tries to shake this trance off.

Wide eyes stare into the snow as he’s a little embarrassed by the pants tent he’s currently sporting. Jesus. Fuck.

Anger pounds through him, his hand quickly snapping for his hammer…only it doesn’t work. A nervous gaze is shot to the women but he realizes that the tree lady isn’t using her powers either. He has a sinking feeling as he tries to force the metal pieces to float again.

Hoisting his hammer up the old-fashioned way, he realizes its weight.

“Duck,” he tells [Y/N], shoving her out of the way before delivering a blow to this tree lady, knocking her out.

[Y/N] stands back then, sees the anger flash in Heisenberg’s eyes. The antlered beasts still growl in place.

“Talk,” he snaps. “Now.”

“Your teeth are chattering,” she acknowledges. “Can’t we at least-”

“I said talk,” he slams the hammer down in the snow.

A nod. “Serena,” she nods over to the moss-covered lady on the ground. “She’s…we’re all…” she shakes her head then finishes with, “-like you.”

He can feel his shaking now, attributes it to this news when it could full-well be from the cold.

“Cadou?” he asks to which she nods. “Fuck.” He runs a hand down his face then shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them warm and to hide the half-chub he’s still got. “Where the Hell did my powers go?”

She looks sheepish. “I have everything to do with that.” At this, he reaches for his hammer again. “I-I didn’t take them or something, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He doesn’t look convinced. She sighs. “Here.” She steps backwards about 15 feet. “Try now.”

Begrudgingly, he removes his fists from his pockets and his hammer flies into his hand instantly. With a blink, he watches the metal pieces float up around him then rain back down into the snow.

Ah. So she can block power…

He remains silent which clearly makes her a little uneasy so she starts speaking again.

“Serena is a Dryad,” she announces as if he’s supposed to know what the fuck that is. “She has power over plants. You got to experience her pheromones…” she looks him over, eyes landing on his half-chub before she inhales and looks elsewhere.

“And what do they call you?” he steps closer.

“They don’t have a term for me. I…wasn’t given enough time…” she looks away, steps until her back is to the abandoned house.

He’s close, peering down at her. “And what are they,” he thumbs behind him.

“Wendigo,” she breathes out. He doesn’t reply. “She feeds them…” Heisenberg nods, grabs a cigar from his pocket, lights it, turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

When he’s far enough away from the power cockblock, he pulls his hammer to him again, slicing up the Wendigos with his metal until there’s a heap of bodies around his feet. That should stop them from following.

[Y/N] tries to not let her surprise and approval show in her expression as she watches him, but he sees a small quirk of her eyebrow. Exhaling smoke, he takes another drag then starts coughing from the cold air.

“Powers or not, this weather isn’t good for you,” [Y/N] sighs.

“What, are you the ruler here? Kicking me out so soon?” he swings his hammer over his shoulder.

“We have no ruler, just…a monitor,” she shakes her head, turns, stops herself from saying more. “What is your business here, Lord Heisenberg?”

“Ah, so you do know me. Different village, yet word travels, hm?”

“You…don’t know of this place, do you?” at her question, he bites down the memories of his father. “Come, we have much to discuss.” As she begins walking, she doesn’t hear his footsteps following behind. She turns, tries another angle, “Or I could get Serena back up and she could show you more of her powers. Trust me, you don’t want her spores getting…other places. You’d have greater concerns than an awkward boner.”

Heisenberg can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Mouthy little bitch, aren’t you?”

She holds her hands up in innocence. “Just looking out for a mighty ruler.” She laughs. “Shall I start a fire or would you rather freeze your ass off out here? Maybe you need a minute to cool off – like a cold shower.”

He can’t help the laugh that comes from his throat at her quips.

“Spunky. I like you.”

[Y/N] inhales sharply, surprised and flattered.

And so begins their silent walk – Heisenberg trailing further behind just in case his powers are needed. The village is bigger than he remembers, though he doesn’t remember much.

[Y/N] picks up the wood she’d left outside of her door right before Heisenberg’s run-in with Serena and the Wendigo. If her fire hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have seen the pack of Wendigo charging down the hill at them. Any slower and Serena may have gotten her claws into him to use at her command.

Sometimes these powers come in handy, despite what Mother Miranda may think.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

�� JUST ONE NIGHT ❜

Part III

with Johnny ‘Coco’ Cruz.

Warnings: angst af, not sorry.

Word count: 2k

Chapter Index.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @fromthesixteenthfloor

Masterlist.

Maybe you should have accepted the invitation from Mardi, your best friend, staying at Santo Padre instead of occupying your parent's house in San Diego. But the pain was too strong to stay there, with the risk of finding Coco walking through the streets or driving his motorbike. You haven't known anything about him for the past five days, and if you've been about to call him hundreds of times, fortunately you haven't. The one who has tried to put in contact with you has been Bishop. He has called for the last two days. But, what would have solved answering the call? Probably nothing. So you just let your phone ring, having a sip from the last bottle of tequila left.

Alcohol isn't the solution, but it's enough to hush your demons, alleviate the pain and make you sleep. So you have been drowned in a bucle of drinking the mexican drink for excellence the whole day, until your body asks you to stop and the hangover hits your head with painful lashes. Since you met him, you have been dreaming about a life together, about trips, about days at home doing nothing, about helping him every time he feels down. About whatever. But he was right. You knew about club shit when you started dating. What you weren't expecting was the kind of things he told you last time you were together. You don't need Coco to be on you the whole time, but if you read your text messages, every twenty yours there's one from him just sayin ‘yeah’ and ‘no’. That's all.

He wasn't busy with his own business to see what he was doing, and you were living it. You were sleeping alone, not knowing anything about his situation. You were passing the days alone, waiting for anything, with the anxiety and the sadness oppressing anatomy, squeezing your heart without mercy. But you loved him. You kept trying to hold him, to save him somehow, until you understood that there's no salvation for someone who doesn't want to be saved.

Cleaning a wild tear, you step out from the sofa, grabbing your house keys and your credit card to get out from it. You truly look like a mess, wearing a pair of long grey sweatpant, a white long shirt and some sneakers. Your hair is tied in an undone bump, no makeup in your face, but two black marks under your eyes. Almost dragging your feet on the ground, you lead your steps to the nearest shop to buy more tequila and maybe something to eat, because you have forgotten when was the last time you had a decent meal.

“Do you know what you're gonna tell her?” Angel drives by his side and behind Bishop, Tranq and Taza, highing his voice over the engine's buzz.

“No!” He just utters under the black bandana.

It only took Miguel five minutes to find you, after checking that you didn't cross the border to Tijuana and that your parent's house in San Diego was having in use the electric and water suministers. Packer sent someone to assure that you were really there, before giving Bishop the green light. Coco has never been more nervous than today, about to reach the place, trying to not think in a speech. He wants to tell you what he really feels from heart, without planning absolutely nothing. He wants to be sincere with you and finally break down the walls around him to let you come in. The last days have been an odyssey for him, being controlled every single second by the crew to not do any crazy shit, after hearing him asking to let him die. And, of course, it's going to be worse in case you declined the idea of coming back to Santo Padre with him, giving Coco a second chance. That's what it hurts the most, the fact that he believes you're not going to open him the door or, if you do, it's going to ask him to go to hell.

Reaching the white house with a blue rooftop, the Mayans park their bikes next to the sidewalk, under the attentive, confused and scared gazes from your neighbors. Getting up from them and taking off the helmets, to leave them over the seats, Angel palms his back trying to cheer him up and give him the strength and the motivation he needs to begin walking through the paved road breaking the garden in two sides. Brushing his hair back, followed by his brothers, he takes a long breath before calling the doorbell. One time, two times… Eight times. Coco understands that you don't want to see him, huffing resigned, but when he's about to turn around and leave the porch, Angel forces him to keep trying.

“Mami… It's me, Coco”. He says biting his bottom lip and licking his incisors. No answer. “Listen, I just… 'am sorre' 'bout all the shit I made. 'Bout pushing you away, 'bout talking you with those… fuckin' manners and 'bout forgetting the most special day of my life. 'Am so fuckin' sorry”.

Nothing. Not a single sound by the other side of the door.

“Keep trying, Coco”. Gilly whispers narrowing his left shoulder.

“Yo, ah… 'am fuckin' sorre'... I know you deserve better. I know you deserve someone who lives for you, for makin' you happy, for takin' care of you, and I know I didn'. And maybe it's too late to regret but… I will keep the promise of changin', of being a better man for you. The one you deserve. Just… fuck, please… Give me a second chance”. His voice breaks as he talks, feeling the tears piling up in his eyes because he doesn't have any answer from you. “Lis—Listen. Prez gave me some time out an—”.

“Yes, I did, kid”. Bishop interrupts him for a second, trying to be helpful.

“And you know… You have told me a lot of times that… you wou—would like to go to Disney and… I was thinken' about… goin'. Together. Onle' you and me, (Y/N). We can go on my bike, or… or in your car, or… use mine… I don' care, I don' give a shit, I will carry you from Cali to Orlando walking if you ask me for”.

Coco is about to cry from one time to another, feeling Angel gently caressing his back. He, better than anyone, knows how much he loves you and how much he cares about you. And maybe his friends didn't do the correct thing with you, but he's badly trying to fix up things between you two.

“Do you… Do you know that if yo—you shout ‘Andy is comen'’ all those… idiots from Toy Story have to fall down? Jus—Just imagine us sitting on a bench… screaming it the whole time, or… following them around the park…”

The guys can't help but chuckle, because they know you two are really capable of spending a day like that. Like two children.

“And you can… put me one of these... fuckin' Mickey's ears. I promise I won't complain”. He sighs bowing his head down, with a disgusting pain getting installed inside his throat. “And… there are a lot… of things about Marvel too… and shows and… a lot of things”.

Coco is breaking into pieces being ignored by you, starting to cry like a hurt kid. He's aware he has lost the best person he could find on earth. His soulmate. His best friend. He knows that it's only his fault. He can't blame his family, nor the club. Because it was enough to sleep with you at home, instead of staying at the scrapping. It was enough texting you one time a day.

“Fu—Fuck, mami, 'am realle' sorre'... You don' have to say something now… but, I don' know… maybe in some days. Now 'am feelin' what you felt and… it's a damn shit… 'am fuckin' sorre', I swear. I never meant to… you through this”. Hardly sniffing and barely breathing, he cleans the tears running down his face. “I will… stay around, in a hotel… if you wanna call me, or… maybe see me to talk alone… I don' know… whatever you want… Or, if you want me to go… ju—just tell me and I will… leave you in peace”.

“Let's go, Coco…”Taza says, placing a hand on his nape.

“No, no… What if I ju—just wait here, till she opens me the door?”

“It's better if you give her some time to think about it”. Bishop shakes his head for a second.

“Yeah, but… what if I ju—I just stay here? Maybe she… doesn't want to talk 'bout us because you're here”. He insists, but Angel is not going to let him do that, surrounding his shoulders with an arm.

“She will call you, hermano. You will see, ah? Seein' you on Mickey's ears worth it.” The oldest Reyes says then, turning around to come back to their bikes.

You are there. Standing up in silence at the beginning of the garden. You have been there the whole time, listening every word Coco said. His wide eyes are fixed on yours, holding a box of Don Julio between your arms, and a big cardboard bag full of doughnuts of different flavors hanging from your closed teeth. Angel pushes him with both palms on his back, forcing his brother to walk towards you. Spitting the bag over the box of tequila, EZ comes closer to grab them and free your hands, before throwing your keys to his old brother.

“The kitchen is at the end of the hallway”. You just say, waiting for them to come in.

“(Y/N), 'am so—”.

“I heard everything you said”. Interrupting him, you close both arms over your chest, wrinkling your nose. Trying to process everything. “The night of our anniversary, I was about to ask you to marry me. One day I went to the clubhouse and heard you talking with Angel, because you were scared of me thinking you were crazy for proposing. So, I was about to do it”.

“I wan'et. I wanna marry you and… being together all my life”.

“You fucked me up badly, Johnny. Really fucking bad”.

“I know, I know… But, please. Gimme a last chance, ain't fuck it up again. And I know you don' believe me, I get it, I earned that shit, but I will show you every day, mami. No more nights out of our home. No more days without calling or texting you, I will do it every hour. And I will not… talk to you again like a fuckin' shit”. He looks and sounds sincere, with his reddened eyes begging you. And you're conscious that Coco is as destroyed inside as you are. “Please…”

Heavily sighing and rubbing your forehead, you lean forward to kiss his cheek, before surrounding him with both arms to hug him tightly.

“I fuckin' love you, (Y/N)”. He cries now, collapsing under your grip without can't avoid it.

“I know, Coquito”. You whisper caressing his messy hair, pushing him closer.

Feeling him again is like coming back to life, kissing once and once his face and trying to clean his tears, breaking you a little watching him like that. Clinging his hands in your thighs, he urges you to wrap his waist with both legs.

“And of course I want to marry you, shithead”. You say, making him chuckle between tears, sinking his face into your neck.

“I love you more than anythen', I swear to God. And I will… make you happy as you deserve”.

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[allcrncthing]

TITLE :: WHAT?

DESCRIPTION :: Flynn gets an unlikely visitor early one morning.

TIME PERIOD :: July, 2012

CHARACTER(S) :: Flynn Aspen, Nick Fury

WORD COUNT :: 1.7k

WARNINGS :: Swearing

NOTE :: This is part one of two in the DON’T RUIN HER mini-series!

It was seven in the morning when knuckles thumped against her apartment door. Flynn shuffled out of her room, rubbing her eyes as she went. God, I hope it’s not Mrs. Baust complaining again. Mrs. Baust was Flynn’s elderly neighbor located on her right. For whatever reason, she didn’t like the redhead; always complaining about stupid shit and trying to her the landlord to kick Flynn out.

She opened the door then nearly slammed it shut. Standing before her was Nick Fury, director of SHIELD. “Can I help you?”

With his one good eye, he looked her up and down. “You know why I’m here. Get important shit and meet me on the roof.”

“Mister, you must be confused.”

Fury scoffed. “Me? Confused? Hurry up and grab your shit, I’ll see you on the roof.” He closed the door for her, leaving a dumbfounded Flynn in his wake.

She pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the door. “How the hell did he find out?” She groaned, agitated. “Christ Flynn, he’s Nick Fury, he always finds out.”

Around three months ago Flynn found out she had powers. She gained them after a chunk of alien tech fell from the sky. Crazy, right? The tech--which was a good sized piece of metal if she was being honest--slammed into the back of her neck, embedding itself in her skin. Flynn could still feel it back there, sometimes rubbing her finger over the weird bump when she was nervous or bored. It must have been from a far-off society that thrived off radiation or something, because these new powers were seemingly radiation based. It was all still very new to Flynn, so she wasn’t 100% sure of anything regarding her abilities.

She trudged back to her room, shrugged off her lavender old lady nightgown, and stepped into bleach-stained grey sweatpants and an oversized I HEART NYC shirt. It was left over from her parents’ visit a while back. Hey, she wasn’t going to get all dolled up for a stranger who told her to “pack up her shit” at seven something in the morning.

Flynn grabbed a duffle bag and filled it with the basics; toiletries, a few pairs of clothes, and chargers for her devices. She hopped whatever Fury wanted with her was quick and easy. Trying to explain her disappearance at work would be a bitch.

Minutes later she appeared on the rooftop, seeing Fury standing off at the ledge, looking off into the distance. “Seen Fallen Soldier recently?”

Her blood ran cold.

Flynn licked her lips, “No.”

“Not after your skirmish in the alley?” He pressed, turning to face her.

Flynn shook her head.

Fallen Soldier was one of HYDRA’s goons. He was a fallen World War I soldier by the name of Dennis Van Dyke. According to what Flynn had read--which may or may not have been on the dark web. . .--HYDRA recently reanimated his once frozen corpse to snuff out anyone with powers. His supposed mission was to kill his target before dragging their body to a local HYDRA lab for testing.

It just so happened that he went after Flynn. Three nights ago while walking home from her shift at work, the corpse struck. He came at her with stinking, peeling flesh and the sharpest bayonet she had ever seen. While he moved at a slow pace, every time he made contact with Flynn she would get knocked over by his force. The fight was her first real power test-run. Flynn discovered she could fly and somehow create fireballs among other things. Going against Fallen Soldier was tiring. So much so she lit him on fire then proceeded to pass out on a nearby rooftop. Flynn was lucky he didn’t find her and kill her in her sleep.

Fury turned back around, facing the sun once more. From his coat pocket he drew a remote. In the sea of buttons he pressed a white one off to the left.

Hundreds of feet in the air floated the SHIELD Helicarrier. Flynn had never seen the beast of an air ship in person before. She only saw pictures of it from the battle in New York.

“Wow,” she breathed, nearly dropping the duffle bag.

“Welcome to your new home.” Fury said, watching as a ramp came down from the helicarrier’s underbelly.

Her brows immediately furred together. “My what?”

“New home! Can’t let you stay down here with that undead bastard looking high-and-low for you.”

Fury walked towards the ramp, taking quick strides. “Hurry up so we can get started on paperwork.”

She scampered after him like a puppy. “Why?”

“You’re just full of questions.”

“Oh no, how dare I question the man who told me to pack up my stuff and follow him.” Flynn groaned.

A look flashed over his face, like she did have a point. “I watched your fight with Fallen Soldier and I liked what I saw. Had to get to you before HYDRA.” Fury pressed another button, opening a door on the carrier’s side.

“Is this a temporary thing?”

“Temporary?” He howled. “Does Tony Stark shop at Walmart?”

“No. . .”

“Well, you have your answer.”

The inside of the helicarrier was bustling with life. Scientists in crisp white lab coats drifted around while armed security members marched from corridor to corridor, looking for any threats. Standing in the middle of that mess was Maria Hill.

The brunette had her arms crossed, eyes focused on Flynn. “How the hell did you get her onboard so quickly?”

Fury chuckled, “I have my ways, Hill.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Welcome aboard, Aspen.” She held out a hand for a quick shake. “Come with me and I’ll take you for testing. It’s just to make sure your physical health is decent. If not, we have world-class doctors on board.”

“Don’t forget about that paperwork,” hollered Fury, walking away from the two women.

The ladies made eye contact. “The paperwork isn’t much, don’t worry. Most of it’s just new stuff the council requires.” Maria explained, easing Flynn’s mind just a little.

They walked down the hall, heading towards the lab wing.

Walking through the helicarrier was just mind boggling. Each part of the air ship held a certain meaning, and all of them served it well. She passed by a holding cell of lower-level, petty villains sitting inside. Many of which were whining about calling their lawyers. Another section was dedicated to the testing out of weapons. A tall ginger dressed in precautionary armor threw a small, onyx colored orb at a rubber dummy (akin to the ones found in dojos). Upon making contact with the dummy, the circle exploded, wrapping it in two thin but sturdy pieces of white rope. The tester let out an impressed noise and went to scribble something down on the clipboard next to her.

Now, they were in the lab wing. Each scientist aboard the helicarrier had their own designated lab, Maria explained. The one they were heading to belonged to their lead medical examiner, the one they sent all of the new recruits to, Doctor Sierra Warner.

Dr. Warner was a tall black woman with thick dreads dyed light brown almost blonde, pulled into a ponytail atop her head. She greeted the two with a smile, motioning for Flynn to take a seat on the examination table. “Welcome,” she said, voice as sweet as her smile.

“Thank you,” Flynn replied as she hopped onto the table.

“Fury’s newest recruit?” She inquired, eye flitting between Maria and Flynn.

Maria nodded, “Yup.”

The following minutes were taken up by basic tests; ones where Dr. Warner would check Flynn’s reflexes and her eyesight. Pretty standard stuff. Then she kind of went off track. “Fury showed me footage of your. . .fight with David Van Dyke--”

Flynn’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. He has footage of that? “How the hell did he get footage of that?”

Dr. Warner chuckled, “SHIELD has cameras all over New York.”

“God, you guys are like big brother.”

“I like to think we have flashier stuff here,” said Warner. “But as I was saying, Fury showed me your video and I thought it would be smart to use a dosimeter on you; just to check your radiation levels.”

“But why?”

The doctor shrugged, “I just have this gut feeling. Here at SHIELD we developed our own version. Instead of having you hold it, you’ll breathe into it like a breathalyzer. The results come back much faster and more accurately. For whatever reason.” Dr. Warner reached into a desk, and pulled out the SHIELD dosimeter, which did look a lot like a breathalyzer. “You can tell that I didn’t help in the development of this.”

“Who did?” Flynn inquired, grabbing the dosimeter. She brought the tube to her lips, sending a steady stream of air into the piece of tech.

“Dr. Celeste Flores-Rivero.” Warner replied, pulling the dosimeter from her mouth after it beeped, allowing her to know it was done processing the sample it had received. “Before she dropped off the map,” she muttered, observing the data displayed on the dosimeter’s digital screen.

“I’ll tell you later,” Maria whispered, giving Flynn’s shoulder a pat.

Dr. Warner chewed on her bottom lip, eyes flitting from Flynn to the dosimeter. “Flynn, I’ve never seen numbers like this before.” She rubbed at her chin, face full of uncertainty. “You’re as radioactive as Chernobyl. Hell, I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Me?” She pressed the tip of her finger right in the middle of her chest. “Me? Flynn Aspen me?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

Flynn’s fingers went right to the back of her neck, feeling the foreign object just below her skin. “What will happen then?” God, I should’ve just stayed in my fucking room.

Dr. Warner wheeled her chair over to Flynn, resting two gloved hands on her knee caps. “We’ll figure something out. We’ve dealt with the Hulk, we can deal with some radiation. For the moment we’ll keep doing tests and then figure out what our next steps are. Some of the most brilliant minds are here, we’ll find a way to help you cope.”

She let out a heavy sigh, deflating a little bit. “Okay, yeah, that’ll work.”

[trashcatsnark]

WHY THE FUCK WERE UP SO LATE??? FUCKING UR SO LUCKY I CANT BEAT UR ASS OTHERWISE ITD BE KNUCKLE CITY

anyway, speaking about johnny boy i was thinking about him + nibbles and our like collective desicion that he is essiently a cat and it is really weirdly fitting that it just makes me like ???? so like cats themselves are a reoccuring motif within the game from the start, when u go to viks, when ur chatting up takemura and at the end with the rooftop that also doubles as like the millionith matrix reference. they follow v and they take up the role of the bakeneko, which i think in the game is defined by them appearing near death ? or just disaster. the obvious thing is that it is to do with v's inpending death and their whole sitation but like the general point is like the cat symbolises the death that follows v as the cat follows them. this puts johnny in an interesting sitation from his catlike nature to how he seems to like and get along with nibbles, he is linked with cats. he is also the parasite that is killing v. he is V's bakeneko. their signal of death. the events start because of his relic, jackie dies for him, and soon does most of the cast from act 1, and a large part of the death from then on is a direct result of them trying to solve the relic and johnny's whole presence is a signal for hey v ur fucking dying. he is death for them. the bakeneko.

makes me wonder if his catlike attributes were intentionally done cause that boy aint right or we just accidently walked on a really thematic fitting landmind

Spoilers within, again, also leave my sleeping schedule alone, I do not function. Additionally, I have a lot to say about Nibbles, omens, cats, and pets then how they all relate back to Johnny so congrats on opening a flood gate my friend!

 think the thematic thing with Johnny and cats and the bakeneko has to 1000000 percent be intentional, because he even sees a cat when Alt is kidnapped. And that goes back to Cyberpunk Red. Like that was used and utilized and then became such a large part of the story. 

Johnny is clearly meant to be a bakeneko; he’s actively next to the cat in that conversation, leaves when it does, see the same cat before Alt’s death, and is again the visual representation of what is happening to V. He is the symbol of their death, whether he wants to be or not. 

I think it’s also interesting to note, the Bakeneko, which is described as an omen of death and misfortune isn’t the only way we see cats used thematically within the game. Albeit, this way is more subtle and perhaps intentionally so. We also see the maneki-neko; the lucky cat statues are everywhere in game. In V’s apartment, Misty’s shop, Vik’s clinic. Everyyyyyywhereeeeee. 

So, we see two mythological cats from Japanese culture. One brings misfortune and one brings good luck. And Johnny exemplifies both. 

Johnny is a visual representation of all that is destroying V. His mere existence and presence a constant reminder that their death is around the corner. An ever present omen that V’s clock is ticking. He also often pops up to have a comment just before massive relic malfunctions and disasters. The end of every main game quest is punctuated with a relic malfunction and a lecture from Johnny. 

But without the chip and by extension Johnny, V would already be dead. If the chip hadn’t been the exact right place to be damaged and activated by the gunshot; it would have killed V right then and there. And while this wasn’t an active choice on Johnny’s part, he is the visual representation of the chip. Even then, he later does make an active choice to save V’s life. When V is hit with the worst malfunction yet; Johnny grabs them, “you aren’t dying yet, I got you” and he takes them to safety. He refuses to watch V seize and die in a puddle of their own sick in the middle of nowhere (for me it’s always at the sunset hotel, idk if this changes based on the order you do the events tho) So, he takes control, he eases their pain and takes them somewhere safe, somewhere that means something to him, and swears to die for them. 

Luck both good and bad. Fortune and misfortune. A sign of better days and an omen of death. A maneki-neko and a bakeneko. The time bomb in V’s head and the guy who saved their life. He is both. 

Now, stepping away from the mythological aspects. Lets talk about Nibbles the cat, Johnny, and pets within Cyberpunk 2077. Animals and by extension pets are considered a luxury in Night City. They’re taxed to fuck and back, generally only the wealthy can have them. Its also often brought up that real friends and family who stick by you are very difficult to come by. V becomes through Nibbles one of the rare people to have a pet. One of the other people who had a pet is, Barry their neighbor. 

Barry and his mission is one of the first you can unlock and see in the game. He’s V’s downstairs neighbor and his story is played out so fucking similarly to V’s. Barry lost his best friend, he’s quit his job because he can’t handle the weight of the NCPD’s corruption, and he’s thinking of taking his own life.  V has lost Jackie, its stated in game they get less work than usual because of Konpeki (cant be put on a crew), and very early on can say to Misty “be better off putting in my head”. 

But for Barry that friend ends up being a pet tortoise. And its clear what that tortoise represents; a constant companion, a safe place, and a comfort. Something Barry couldn’t find among his peers until later on when they learn just how much he’s been hurting. And this is treated as such a tragedy, that he only has a pet to turn to. 

And so V gets a cat, because they too are fucking hurting and having a little meowing bundle of skin running around their apartment helps. Something to come home to, something to make that apartment a little less empty, a little more alive. 

So, how does this particular aspect of Nibbles/cats/pets relate to Johnny, I hear you wondering (as well as wondering when Im going to shut up). Well, we know Johnny is linked symbolically with cats and thats the choice of pet for V. And we knows pets have been likened to support without judgement; a companion who you can tell everything too and they won’t abandon you. 

And while Johnny has heaps of judgment and is a dick. He is V’s only constant companion. I know a good junk of people don’t like him or his commentary; but imagine V’s life without Johnny in it through the game events. Imagine how lonely they’d be. 

Johnny is the only one who knows everything and is there with V from the start to the final moments in Mikoshi. 

Vik and Misty know, but they’re no edgerunners, they have no idea everything V is doing out there. Part of why as much as I do love Vik, his frustration with V hurts so much in the end because he talks like V hasn’t done anything to save themselves. Because, Vik doesn’t know what V’s been doing this whole time. 

Each part of the main quests in Act 2 are linked to an NPC; Judy, Panam, and Takemura. And not one of them know or are there throughout the entirety of V’s journey. Judy doesn’t get told the full details of what’s happening until later in and stops helping V one Evelyn is saved. Panam doesn’t learn the full details or anything really about the chip until much later. And her quests become her own personal journey once V finds Hellman. And then depending on V’s choices, Panam can come in to help at the end. Takemura knows V is dying and is there to help with the parade and then he’s gone; either dead or in hiding. He refers to anything that doesn’t involve him as V’s shady dealings and leaves it at that. He’s there to interrogate Hellman but he doesn’t know all V did to find him. None of them know everything, none of them have been there the whole time. And that’s not a condemnation of them, I do not expect them to drop everything to be glued to V’s side 24/7 but, I can’t fucking imagine how alone V feels. 

River has no involvement in any main quests and only finds out anything if V chooses to romance him. Kerry knows what Johnny told him and depending on the ending may even leave V. Again, wanna be clear, that isn’t a condemnation on his character. I understand why he does this and i understand his hurt and how it led him to that. 

But this is about how truly fucking alone V is in all of this. Not a single person there start to finish, not a single person knowing all that they have suffered, all that they have been through and are going through. 

Except Johnny. He tells V in the oil fields, closest to him by far, there 24/7, yet they don’t seem to hate him. And he’s that for V too; there the entire way, their demon never leaving.  Johnny knows everything happening; because he’s part of what’s happening. He’s been there through every struggle, every step, every slap in the face as V’s tried to save themselves. Has felt their pain as they lose themselves, has known the people who’ve had to die for them to get this far, as felt their heart break when all they found was betrayal by the Voodoo Boys, Ai Alt asking how V’s life is her problem, getting recommended a hospice by Hellman. 

And as dickish as he is, his comments help. V always has someone there, as much as he sucks. He always has something stupid or naggy to say to help keep some of that weight off their shoulders. Imagine if they didn’t even have that. If Johnny never talked to them, never showed his face. 

A constant companion, like a supportive pet cat except he can talk and did a lot of meth. 

And this is a sidenote that has nothing to do with cats specifically, but that through Samurai music this isn’t the first time Johnny could be compared to an omen. Its no secret that the music was largely created around the game and as such, many of his songs have direct parallels and messages related to the game. Never Fade Away while in universe written in regards to Alt’s death also has so much in common with his journey with V. This brings me to the song Black Dog.

“Black Dog inside my head, guiding me until the end.”

Black Dogs are figures in Irish Mythology  who much like bakeneko’s are talked about in game; are omens of death and misfortune. I just find it interesting I suppose, like Johnny is either a dirty alley cat or a big mangy dog, but either way he’s here cause someones about to die.

Okay this is well over a thousand words, Imma shut up now. This is probably a mess, but anyone here for coherency is in the wrong place. 

[sylvain-writes]

Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 7/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family.

for @melodiousmelodrama 

The blood drains from your face. You feel light-headed and unsteady on your feet. “Are my… are my…”

Donnie’s eyes lock on yours. “Raph’s there with Mikey. Everyone’s OK,” he says, but it brings little relief. “Your parents were at a charity function for the hospital.”

“And Gram?” Your throat’s gone so dry, you can barely get the question out.

“At the neighbors’.”

A shaky breath passes through your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself.

Leo stalks the mat as he thinks aloud. “This was a targeted attack. Their numbers might not be what we projected. But they didn’t get what they came for - hostages or us. They’ll be back. We have to get the humans to a secure location.”

Your thoughts extend beyond the safety of your family. “You have to protect the apartment building.”

“Yes.” Leo gives a sharp nod. “We have to defend the city. They’ll strike the building again. We can set up a base of operations somewhere close. Keep a lookout.” He whips out his phone and calls his brothers. “Mikey, sweep the area for somewhere to set up a base. Prepare for another attack.”

Mikey’s voice carries over the speaker. “You got it, bro.”

“Donnie,” Leo commands, “get us ready to move out. Whatever we need. Devices to track their signature, that new bo you’ve been working on. Anything else you got that might help against these guys. We’ve never been up against something like this before. We’re gonna need every advantage we can get.”

“The new weapons? But I thought you said...” Donatello rises to his full height at his brother’s nod of approval. “Of course, Leo. It’d be my honor to supply the team with new hardware. To be used in tandem with our traditional weapons, of course.”

Leo urges him, “Go!” and Donnie heads out at a sprint.

When Leo turns to you, you’re having trouble catching your breath. Tears cloud your vision and the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak.

“This is my fault,” Leo says by way of apology. “I shouldn’t have let my feelings distract me. Your family should have never been in danger.”

You understand now. How being a distraction to him is dangerous. The world depends on him. Tending to you, indulging you, led to this.

You believed his fears and insecurity about being vulnerable, showing weakness, were baseless. But leaving the city open to attack, leaving your family at risk… it isn’t worth whatever feelings stir in your chest when you think of him.

You’d rather have him and everyone else safe, than to be selfish. This isn’t him choosing to ignore you, this is him choosing to save the world.

When you return to your family home, Leo kneels before your parents and Gram. “I have dishonored you, failed you. I know my words are not enough, but I hope you will allow me to defend you and your home. I will not fail you again. On my honor. On my life.”

Your father, filled with fear, sputters before leaving the room. You know him, he doesn’t put the blame on the turtles, not really. But he doesn’t have anywhere else to direct his feelings of anger, fear, and confusion. Not yet.

Leo appeals to the women as they remain. “I allowed my mind to be clouded by distraction. It will not happen again. I devote my life to ninja and to your protection.”

His apologies hurt more than you thought they would, know you’re the distraction of which he speaks. Though you came to that same conclusion less than an hour ago, hearing it from his lips ties your stomach in knots.

“It’s time for you to go,” you find yourself saying. “You being here puts a bigger target on us, doesn’t it?”

Leo nods and stands.

“Then, go save the city, Leo. We won’t stand in your way as distractions anymore.”

Leo’s face twists in pain before his emotions slip behind the wall he builds so well. He heads for the window and you close it behind him with more force than necessary.

Once he’s gone, you try not to think of him. Your family needs you. They’re shaken and confused. And you don’t have all of the answers, but you have faith in the brothers. You have to believe they can fight this threat to the city. You have to believe they can win.

The Krang don’t attack again that day. Or that week. And a lookout returns to the roof. But it’s Leo and you won’t go up there. You don’t want to talk to him and it’s clear he doesn’t want you around.

But being in the apartment, unable to spend time on your rooftop escape, is making you stir crazy. You do get little drop ins from the other guys, sometimes right before their patrol.

Raphael will stop in to see Gram, ask about a new stitch he’s working on for his latest yarn project - a blanket for Mikey. A birthday present the young turtle isn’t supposed to know about.

Donatello dropped in to give you a secure phone so you could contact them in case of an emergency. “Or, you know, if you ever just want to talk about life, the universe, and everything.”

Mikey leaves you horoscopes, but it’s bittersweet. He doesn’t stick around to explain what he thinks they mean.

You convince yourself you’ve gotten over Leo, that the reason you spend more time looking at his horoscope than the others is because he’s the one perched on your roof and if the horoscope is predicting bad news for him then that translates into bad news for you, for your family, for your building. And you need to be prepared. You are absolutely not looking for any clues in regard to his feelings for you, any clues as to when you can expect him to knock on the window and apologize for pushing you away. When you can expect him to announce he’s come up with a way for you to be a boon to their cause instead of the distraction he’s determined you to be.

When the Krang launches an attack on Times Square, it’s all over the news. People are frantic. The city is in chaos. And you don’t know what to do. There’s no way off the island - and though you’d like your family to get to New Jersey, to get somewhere safely out of the way, you don’t even think of leaving yourself.

You and Leo haven't spoken to each other in over a week and you have no idea how he’s been handling everything. The guys haven’t given many clues. Mikey’s horoscopes are too vague to understand without his interpretations.

You know Leo holds so much inside, not wanting to burden his brothers with more than what he thinks they can handle. Why doesn’t he realize that if he trusted other people to share the burden, it’d be easier for everyone to carry? His brothers wouldn’t be as worried about him and all four of them would be better prepared to handle whatever dangers are to come.

You kiss your parents and Gram goodbye and head south toward Times Square. They know where you’re going. They don’t try to stop you. Mother straps a pack full of medical supplies to your back and squishes your face before you go. “I would be right beside you,” she says, then casts a meaningful look at Gram and Father.

The city is madness. The streets, which you thought would be teeming with people running for cover, are empty. Everyone who could find shelter has found it. Those who couldn't, well, they don't need shelter anymore.

You charge through the streets on foot, sure the subways are out of order. There are no cabs to take you, no clear streets to drive through even if there was a vehicle to drive.

You duck behind an abandoned news stand as a disembodied brain alien floats past. You peek through the rows of magazines to see it's not the only one. There must be a dozen krang moving down the streets. They don't seem to be looking for anything, led by an unseen force.

You startle when you feel a large, cool hand close over your mouth and nose. "Don' scream, a’right?" You'd recognize Raph's voice anywhere.

The tension in your shoulders eases up, but only a little.

"Your supposed t’ be hitchin’ a ride with Don. Gettin' the hell outta here with Gram and ya parents."

You pry Raph's hand from your face and gasp for air. The dude really doesn't realize just how massive his hand is. "I'm not leaving. I can help."

You notice the gash on his arm, and without hesitation, you swing your backpack off of one shoulder and around to your chest. It takes only a few seconds for you to fish out antiseptic spray and a roll of gauze. You patch him up efficiently. And Rapahel grunts. It's about as much thanks as you could hope to get while he's focused on the fight.

"Told you. I can help. Get back out there. Is anyone else hurt?"

"Bout a few thousand New Yorkers." Raph’s brow furrows and his eyes look haunted. It only lasts a moment before he shakes his head and shifts his frown to a grimace. “These slimeballs fucked with the wrong city.”

You look around at the First Responders on the scene. "What about your brothers?"

"Why dontcha ask 'em yourself?" he asks as he scans the area for any sign of those things .

You grab the secure cell from your pocket and dial the open line to the turtles. "Mikey. You alright?"

"Hey! What's shakin'?" Mikey’s greeting is casual and bright, even amid bedlam.

"You sound winded."

"I'm kinda in the middle of something,” he explains, and you can hear the thuds and shuffling of a brawl. “Can I call you back? Later? Oof. A lot later? Yow! That's my good side, dude!"

In spite of everything, he manages to make you smile. "Where's Leo?"

A gruff voice joins the line. Deep and calm. “I’m right here.” Mikey’s channel cuts out and the background falls silent. Leo has found somewhere quiet to talk. "Where are you?"

Raph leans toward the phone to answer for you. "Wit me."

There’s shock in his voice, confusion and concern. "You're supposed to be with Donnie."

"Well, I'm-"

"Helpin', alright?” Raphael defends. “Got a little banged up over here. Glad I had someone on my side t' patch me up.”

You smile at him and he shoves your shoulder a bit before smiling back. And you were wrong, your first impression of him… that his snarl couldn't be improved by a smile, because when Raph smiles it really does light up his face. Softens his edges.

It's like the rare occasion when Mikey lets himself get lost monologuing about his interests - before he catches himself and hopes that you aren't upset by his enthusiasm.

You've only seen Donnie smile like that once. Carefree.

But you've never seen Leo wear a carefree smile. Not ever.  Maybe something tight lipped. Or something fond. Sad. Leo’s smiles hold secrets and burdens. His shoulders hold responsibility. There isn't a carefree bone in his body. He holds the weight of the world on his shell. And try as he might to hide the toll it takes on him, his brothers can see he can’t do it alone.

"Fine,” Leo concedes. “Stay with Raph."

"We're comin' to you, brutha."

"Wait where you are- No!" There's a thud and a gasp and Leo gives a shout of pain before the line goes dead.

[millylotus]

Jordan Needs to Move

The discovery was immediately pain, the divorce papers were a shock to both of them. The cuostudy war was a fucking roller coaster. He almost lost Tubbo and Eret.

She tried to say that Eret wasn’t his son, that Tubbo was too young to be separated from his mother. But Tubbo was 2 and after two different DNA tests it was proven that Eret was his son. God he almost cried when that was announced.

But she still wanted to have one of her children with her. Jordan didn’t tell the kids but she chose Eret simply because he was older and smarter than the others. And when he slowly lost the vision in his left eye she tried to “trade” him for Niki.

Jordan was thankful that it was joint custody he didn’t want to lose his son. But now he has to move out of this neighborhood, with her and her lover, her and her family. Away from the mess away from this city. A new home where his kids don’t have to see that woman. Where they are far far away where they can’t guilt trip him into letting her see Niki and Toby.

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

It took him a month but he found a job in a nice neighborhood as a fencing instructor. He fenced as a hobby for a while but now that was all he could get. The boss is a nice old man, he gave him the job out of pity, and Jordan knew that. In that same month he found a nice apartment made specifically for families.

At first he thought it was too good to be true. Four beds, two baths, a balcony and a communal garden on the roof. So he went to go check it out beforehand.

The landlords are a nice middle aged couple the Collens. They understood why he was so sceptical, most people were. But it was all mostly true the garden was a bit dead and one of the bathrooms was a bit dirty. Besides that it was fine. He talked to the neighbors The Sleepy family and the Halo’s.

The Sleepy consist of a five person family whose kids are around the same age as Eret, Niki, and Tubbo. The parents Phil and Kristin are very nice and sweet. He met the Halos at night when he finished unpacking late into the night. The parents both have a graveyard shift and the sons were a bit older then Eret, nice and very shy kids.

The day Jordan brought Eret, Niki, and Tubbo to the apartment. It had been a year since he divorced her. Eret was a few months away from 8 Niki turned 6 a week ago, and Tubbo turned 3 last month.

“Daddy!” Niki ran straight at Jordan hugging him tight. Jordan laughed. “Hey princess.” He ruffled Niki’s hair. She let go of him as he went over to, that woman, taking Tubbo from her arms. The toddler grabbing at his dad wanting to hug him.

Eret hopped out of the car walking over to Jordan. “Their things?” She sighed annoyed. She went around to the trunk and pulled out the kids things. Jordan took Tubbo’s baby bag, putting it over his arm. Eret took his backpack and suitcase and Niki tried to pull out her’s.

“It’s okay, guys we can come back for your suitcases later.” He helped Niki put on her backpack. “No point in doing two trips. I can take it up with you, don’t worry.” She grabbed the two suitcases, pulling them to the building.

Jordan had a lopsided grin confused but thankful for her help but still awkward. Jordan grabbed Tubbo’s suitcase out of the trunk. All the kids' other things were already in the house, the moving guys had finished moving the boxes yesterday.

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

After she left and after they unpacked about half of their things. It was about time for a break. Once Niki heard about the garden on the rooftop. They decided to go up there for their break.

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

They sat at a large dark wood table with benches around it for seating. Fairy lights hung from a planked wooden cover (it’s like a two foot separation between each plank, I don’t know what it’s called) it was peaceful and calm, just what they needed.

Eret and Niki went off into the garden to play hide and seek. And Tubbo was playing on his blanket teething on his toys. Jordan didn’t have to worry about them falling off the roof because of a three meter tall chain link fence surrounding the rooftop. And he could see them pretty fine. The garden was a bit more dead except for the occasional tree.

He heard the rooftop door open and looked over, to see a boy, he recognized as one of the Sleepy children. The eldest son and the tallest, and ten years old. The boy’s mouth was gaping, staring at Niki and Eret who hadn't noticed him staring.

Another one of the Sleepy boys walked into Jordans sight line. The middle child if he remembered correctly. Mostly because the boy was carrying a pig plushie (the pig is holding a potato of course) was he nine, eight, Jordan couldn’t remember.

Jordan was about to say something to the boys when the eldest spoke up rather loudly. “Stranger danger, who are you intruders.” He ran over to them. Which in hindsight running up to a stranger was not a good idea. But kids don’t really think things through.

“We are not intruders, we live here.” Eret said as the boy stopped right in front of them. His younger brother followed closely behind. The boy gasped a bit, like he just put two and two together. “You're the new neighbors aren’t you!?” Then he turned to Jordan who had gotten up to walk over Tubbo walking (waddling to be honest). “And you’re the guy who came over to our apartment last week.”

Jordan chucked. “Yes I am your Wilbur right? And the little one next to you is Techno right?” Wilbur nodded smiling widely. He turned back to Niki and Eret. What’s your name, mine’s Wilbur.” he pointed a finger back at his brother, who waved. “This is Techno, he’s my little brother. Well my oldest little brother.”

Niki was the first to speak. “I’m Niki, that's my big brother Eret, that’s my baby brother Tubbo, and the adult is our Daddy.” Wilbur and Techno smiled. “Do you guys want to play tag, I’m good at tag.” Techno spoke up.

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

The other kids agreed and they played tag for about thirty minutes.

Once the sun was near setting, Wilbur and Techno’s dad Phil came up to the garden. Him and Jordan talked for a while as the kids played. Soon the children got tried and they all went back down to their apartments.

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

“Hey Jordan, I know that we all just met but how about you can visit us anytime you want. And as I said before all six of our gremlins (Tommy was three at the time) are around the same age I hope we can set up some playdates.”

Jordan smiled. “Of course Phil, we’d love to come over anytime.”

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

Once the kids were all asleep Jordan started unpacking some small things, wanting to finish by tomorrow or Monday. ‘Damn’ he thought as he unpacked the books, ‘I’ve made some friends if that’s what they think of me. And my kids have made some friends. This is perfect, just what I need right now.’

Jordan went to sleep a few hours later. Happy and content with his decisions. He left her, moved into a new home and made friends. God he was very happy that day.

Author’s Note

I really enjoyed writing this. I’ve never had divorced parent’s or have ever talked to someone who went through a divorce. So I’m sorry if anything seems wrong or weird. This is just how I view a divorced parent would feel (in a relatively short way).

Lotus out-

[ryttu3k]

Night Road quote text dump, because I've been deluging a friend with quotes and want a place to keep them all.

We're a bit like that, yeah:

They direct you to a hulking Malkavian named Severian, and the sullen giant directs you in turn to Gibberish Mike.

Fortunately, it turns out that "Gibberish" Mike is just Australian.

Practical concerns:

"That's it!" Elena says, leaning over your shoulder. "That's his yacht. Oh, and this is all about him. Very useful." She snaps a picture of the email with her phone, then the two of you get out of there before the technician returns. You head down the elevator and then back to Elena's Datsun.

You're so pleased by how well that went that that it takes you a few minutes to remember you're in Arizona.

"His yacht?" you finally ask.

Fun with bungalow ownership:

After a day of fitful dreams, you throw on your leather jacket and engineer boots and get ready for another night. You step outside to check your Integra. A neighbor parks next door in her Ford Super Duty and gives you a friendly little wave. You've been practicing this. You're ready.

"Howdy, neighbor."

"Howdy!" she responds before heading inside.

Fucking nailed it. You're one of them.

This is legitimately how I got the Messy Critical achievement:

You grab a hoe.

You rip through the underbrush with savage efficiency, staying a few steps ahead of the pushcart as Julian scans. You work in a trance, chopping and hammering. Only when you hear Julian shouting do you realize that you're holding a busted length of wood.

The head of your hoe is buried in the beautiful round black door of Prince Lettow's Rolls-Royce.

Raúlblocked:

You head to Raúl's place, but he's not there. You find a note hidden above the door that reads, "Problems in Phoenix. (Jesus Christ has returned? Stole a car?) Contact me right away for major jobs and I'll come back. Already missing you." And there's a ProtonMail address with some of the security contact codes you agreed upon earlier.

But it looks like Raúl will be occupied dealing with the Lord and His automotive crimes, and he won't be able to wander around Tucson with you.

Pattermuster doesn't get paid enough:

"Hello? What? Well, the blood can't be 'everywhere.' Surely that's an exagger—okay—okay, fine. Okay. Okay, I'll get—okay. Five minutes. What? No, Sissy Spacek. No, Sissy—you're thinking of Rosemary's Baby. No, Carrie had the prom scene. With all the pig's—yes, it was Sissy Spacek, I'm sure. That much blood? Jesus. Okay, hold—five—okay, five minutes."

Valid question:

Do they teach ax fighting at Quantico?

Julian Meyer:

"Man, it's been a while," Julian says, leaning against your door frame. "I remember the nights we spent keeping that elder asleep with offerings of blood, the days curled up together in the desert. Wasn't it romantic?"

"That never happened, Julian. You made up our relationship and tried to sell it as a novel until the old Prince of Tucson threatened to execute you." '

"Vampire romance was big at the time," Julian says with a shrug. "And I changed our names. I still don't know why no one wanted to buy it."

Dammit I thought I was done with uni:

"Awful," Dr. Caul says with a little shudder. "But now your real studies can begin."

Your real studies consist of a syllabus (thirty pages) and a trunk full of books (35,000 pages).

"Are you disappointed, Rook?" she says with a little laugh. "Were you expecting something more mystical? A bolt of cosmic enlightenment? A conversation with your Holy Guardian Angel, who would reveal the answers you seek?" She bangs the trunk as technicians get ready to load it into your car. "Get reading."

An enthusiastic boss:

You reunite with Pattermuster down in the morgue, where he's pumping his fists as a thin-blood on a gaming laptop watches with a worried expression because she can't tell if he's incredibly happy or insanely mad.

"Rook!" Pattermuster shouts, his eyes full of Blood, "you did it! You brilliant child, you did it! We're safe. Oh, thank God, we're safe." He pulls you into an embrace, then punches a brick wall because he's so happy, showering all three of you in dust.

I thought that was Finland?:

You catch all sorts of whispered gossip as you cross the rooftop garden.

"Camp Scheffler?"

"Gone. That Outlander courier had something to do with it."

"I heard the Russians helped the SI burn it down."

"That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as Russians."

Pot, kettle:

"Julian," the Eagle Prince says, "you will locate Reremouse with the equipment Vane brought. Once we find him, we will strike shortly before dawn. I have prepared a stake sufficient to pierce even his old hide."

"That easy, huh?" Julian says.

"No, but—"

"Your plan is ridiculous, convoluted, and dangerous," Julian says.

"And you have a better one?"

"Absolutely," Julian says. "We use Stonehenge to teleport him to Mesopotamia."

The must-have appliance:

He's a black outline in the glow of a single yellow bulb... and then the bats descend.

And then the bats get torn to pieces, because Pattermuster pulls his two katanas out of nothing and turns into an undead Cuisinart for a few seconds.

But aesthetic:

Leave it to a vampire to bring a sword to a gunfight.

It is pretty cool though:

"Oh my God," Julian says. "You're going to use the car engine to fling Prometheus into Reremouse's heart."

"Dammit, Julian, I am not doing this because it's fun. I am scrambling for every advantage I can because we only have one chance to stop Reremouse, and if we fail, the Second Inquisition will descend on us like wolves on a wounded deer."

"It's still cool," Julian mutters.

A e s t h e t i c:

The Camarilla looks unkindly on vampires who dress like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, but what's the point of being dead if you can't look the part?

#JustToreadorThings:

You sleep badly and awaken to an aching and acute Hunger that crowds out other thoughts. But when you approach the Rolls-Royce, you find Lettow and Julian seated on a blanket, evidently in fine spirits. They're holding stainless steel mugs as they watch the last purple streaks fade from the western sky. There's something perfect about the composition before you: the two Kindred in their working clothes with their backs to you, the blue-black clouds, the faraway mesas framing the scene.

"I fear we've lost the Aesthete," Lettow muses. "Luka? Luka!"

It's just good sense:

A lot of keypads use 0911 as an emergency override for police and fire. That doesn't work, but a common default password causes the elevator doors to slide right open.

Change your defaults, people.

They draw the line at 31%:

Not all problems can be solved by putting a brick through a window, but at least 30 percent can.

Descriptive:

That's when your Nissan makes a sound like a bunch of typewriter keys dropped in a blender, and the whole truck lurches to a halt.

Munch munch:

"There are tags attached to all the payroll numbers," you say. "FNMA. PFC. What are they?"

"FNMA?" Antonio says. "That's Fannie Mae. The loan commission. Privatized in 1968. PFC…"

"Pavlodar Fried Chicken," Janet says. "Damn Commies."

Courier what did you do:

When you try to start your Mercedes, it vomits black smoke. That's not good. You kill the engine.

"Pop the hood," Julian says. "I'll get it up and running."

He checks the motor. There's a long pause.

"Did you melt a bunch of cheese in here or something, Vane?"

“I remember crawling out of a Nieuport 20 outside Gibraltar," Prince Lettow says. "The engine looked like that. Of course, ours had been on fire."

"Engine looks like Vane fed a bunch of sardine cans into a paper shredder," Julian says.

Almost!:

So Lettow is cute. I'm going to talk to him and see if he might be interested in a handsome young courier who almost has his own car.

Scientist life:

A beaker of cold coffee on her desk has a pencil in it; she flicks the pencil away and drains the entire beaker, then looks you in the eyes.

Domesticity:

"Wow, Vane," the Banu Haqim says, "did you finally settle down. Where's the wife and kids? Why don't you get me a beer, and we can talk about football and quote some Bible verses at each other?"

I really want to know where the fake werewolf came in:

"...so the whole fucking Cadillac is on fire, and I'm kicking and kicking, trying to get the window to break!" Dove says.

"Right, right, because —" You're trying to follow this story, and it isn't easy.

"Because I'm still handcuffed to the guy who was pretending to be a werewolf, right. And I finally kick through the window, rip half the dead fake werewolf's arm off to get free — I'm out of my fucking mind now, with all the fire — and I finally crawl out of the car."

"And get clear before it — do they blow up?"

"Escalades? I dunno, probably not," Dove says. "But anyway, I'm finally clear, so I run across the parking lot, laughing because I'm just thrilled not to have met final death chained up to that guy. And I barely have time to look up before Lettow comes screaming around the corner in a Ford Bronco with the lights off and runs me over. I was in the wrong Cadillac the whole time."

"No!"

"Two black Cadillac Escalades in the parking lot of the Marriott," Dove says. "How was I supposed to know which one — anyway, that's why I don't get to drive anymore. That's why Lettow wants assholes like you driving."

"Driving what?" you ask. "Because I need a car."

Dove shakes her ugly head. "I'll get you something. Give me a few hours to work on it, and I'll send someone to find you."

Cars are everything:

You still don't know how Julian plans to go from "divert a few funds and data streams from the Camarilla" to "transform the global information panopticon in a way that ends the Masquerade but keeps vampires safe," but he has a nicer car than last time, so he must be doing something right.

Guys please be nice to Raul:

"There appears to be a vampire hunter outside," he says, "investigating your electric vehicle."

"Send your bird to peck his eyes out," Julian says. "I'm not going outside until I find my sneakers."

Cheese?:

Over the next few minutes, you cough up a glorious wad of bullshit involving MKUltra, the Philadelphia Experiment, Star Wars (the movie), Star Wars (the Reagan-era government program), Jackson Pollack's CIA connections, the history of federal cheese, and the secret mastermind behind the seventies gas crunch.

In fairness it's a pretty rare sound:

You're way up in Limberlost, near the mall and the Walmart, when Riga settles on the roof of a Safeway. You reverse into the parking lot in case you need to get out fast and scan the cars at the pumps. It looks quiet. Then you hear a faint ringing.

The sound is musical, hypnotic. It reminds you of your childhood, and for a long time you just sit there in the driver's seat, remembering what it was like to be alive. But what is that sound? What memory from…?

Oh, right.

The pay phone next to the ice merchandiser is ringing.

It's a skill!:

Not every member of Clan Toreador joins their august ranks because of their great beauty or artistic genius. Some people end up vampires because of their extensive knowledge of Adobe After Effects.

Big Pirates of the Caribbean energy:

"I'd kind of like to give Lettow here a horse and a sword and let him tear through an entire police barracks," Julian says. "Tell me that wouldn't be fun."

"One thing I learned from Napoleon," Lettow says, "is that the most powerful cannon is useless if you cannot see your target. We know the location of one small encampment. That isn't enough to start shooting."

"You knew Napoleon?" Julian asks.

"Napoleon was my horse," Lettow says.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Falcon of Detroit (DBH Connor Fanfiction) Chapter Ten

~Phoebe's POV~

Connor turned his full attention to me and I awaited to see what all he knew about me. "You graduated two years ahead of your class in college due to excellent performance and grades at Penn State. After graduation, you moved to Detroit. At the age of twenty-two, you became the youngest detective in all of Michigan. A few months after your instatement with the DPD, you solved your first case and placed one of Detroit's most dangerous serial killers in jail—Benjamin Atkins, or well-known as the Woodward Corridor Killer."

(Benjamin Atkins is a real serial killer from Detroit. He died in 1997, but let's just say he's alive and in jail in 2038.)

After the arrest, you and the Lieutenant became partners and you both have worked together since."

"You sound like a walking Wikipedia," I commented out of the blue.

"I did my research before CyberLife assigned me to be your partner and the Lieutenant's," Connor confesses. His neutral expression suddenly changed serious. "I'm... sorry about your parents, Phoebe."

"Don't be. They were killed when I was in high school."

"What happened?" Hank asked.

"Well, my parents were coming home and crossing one of the bridges in Pittsburgh. A drunk driver hit them and their car went over the side of the bridge. They didn't make it out of the car and drowned."

"Now I know why you never told me..." Hank sorrowfully sighs. "I'm sorry for asking.”

"Don't worry about it. That was twelve years ago."

Suddenly, Connor's LED changes to yellow. "I just got a report of a suspected deviant or rogue. It's a few blocks away. We should go have a look."

"You better eat faster, Hank, or we're leaving you behind," I tease.

"Just give me a few minutes and then we'll go," Hank said, taking a huge bite out of his hamburger and then another.

"Don't choke yourself!" I scolded.

He waved me off, taking another bite and washing it down with a swig of soda. I shook my head in disbelief and followed Connor to the car.

-A Few Minutes Later-

Just as Hank promised, he finished his burger in record time and drove us to an apartment building that appeared to be in poor condition. We rode the elevator to our destination and stepped off. When Connor wasn't following us, Hank and I exchanged confused glances. "Hey, Connor!" The man bellows, his eyes falling back on him. The android opened his eyes, meeting our muddled expressions. "You ran outta batteries or what?"

"I was making a report to CyberLife."

"Uh, well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?"

"No! I'm coming."

The android exited the elevator and walked beside me as we meandered down the dusty, dirty hallway. Hank led the way, questioning who our target was. "What do we know about this guy?"

"Not much. Just that a neighbor reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor."

"Who the hell would live in this dump?" I scoffed, staring at the junk that littered the hallway.

"Nobody's supposed to be living here, but the neighbor said he saw a man hiding a LED under his cap," Connor answered.

Hank groaned. "Oh, Christ. If we have to investigate every time someone hears a strange noise, we're gonna need more cops."

I nodded in agreement. "Preach."

We reached the door at the end of the hallway and Hank leaned against the wall beside it. "Hey, were you really makin' a report back there in the elevator? Just by closing your eyes?”

"Correct," the android responds, positioning himself in front of the door.

"Shit. Wish I could do that."

"I'm more of a 'write-down-everything' kinda girl," I commented.

"What about essays?" Hank inquired.

"Hell yeah! I'm more creative with a pencil in my hand than typing on a keyboard."

"So that's why you still write your reports by hand."

Connor knocked on the door, ending our conversation. "Anybody home?" The machine knocked louder and harder. "Open up! Detroit Police!"

Hank laid a hand against his concealed pistol as we heard the sound of scuffling from the other side of the door. "You both stay behind me."

"Got it," Connor and I answered in unison.

The Lieutenant drew his pistol and kicked the door in. It flew open, the strong stench of fecal matter slapping us in the face. I winced at the horrid stench as the three of us entered the apartment. Hank holstered his pistol with a growl. "What the fuck is this?!" The entire apartment, minus the small rooms, were swarmed with pigeons. The birds were pecking at the floorboards and I assumed it was food they were eating. "Jesus, this place stinks..."

"Thanks for the info, Captain Obvious," I playfully saluted the man.

The three of us searched the apartment. Connor and Hank checked the living room and kitchen while I searched the small bedroom. With no clues, I wandered to the living room and heard Hank complaining. "Uh, looks like we came for nothin'. Our man's gone."

"Not possible. The only exit is the front door. The windows are either partially boarded up or entirely blocked off. Our man is hiding and I bet he can hear us," I stated.

Connor suddenly tore a poster off the wall and revealed a notebook. He flipped through the pages before closing the leather-bounded object. Hank peered at the android when he saw the item in his hand. "Found something?"

"I don't know. It looks like a notebook, but it's... indecipherable."

"May I see it?" I ask. Connor hands the notebook over and I flip through the pages. The symbols inside seemed to resemble large mazes with no signs of an entrance or exit. It was the same image I saw painted in the bedroom. Turning the page, I found a symbol that seemed familiar.

It resembled a key and I remembered where I had seen it before. I pulled out my phone, catching Hank and Connor's curiosity. "Phee, what are you looking up?"

"The newspaper from a few months ago when the first rogue appeared. This symbol..." I showed them the page while my eyes were scanning my search results. "I saw it in the picture that went with the article." I finally found what I was searching for and showed them. "The rogue used the blood from his victim to create it. Then, it was killed by police just after it finished drawing this symbol."

"It's possible the symbol is linked to Amadeus," Connor concludes.

"That's exactly what I was thinking, but... the symbol has only appeared in the first rogue case. The number of corrupted androids has increased since this incident, but this symbol has only appeared once."

"Is it possible we're dealing with a rogue?" Hank inquired.

I shook my head. "No. If we were, the android wouldn't be hiding right now. Rogues love confrontation and bloodshed. Deviants, on the other hand, are the complete opposite."

"I will check the bathroom," Connor announces, walking into said room.

Hank and I remained in the pigeon infested living room/kitchen area, both of us spotting the box of bird seed on the counter. I picked up the empty box and saw the logo of the store from where the android had purchased the feed. "Definitely a deviant. Rogues wouldn't go through the trouble of buying anything. And no human would welcome this many pigeons in a small apartment."

"Not surprised it was an android. No human could live with all these fuckin' pigeons," Hank stated.

Connor returned from the bathroom and told us he found a LED on the sink and the same maze-like drawings on the wall along with ra9 written over two thousand times.

"We found nothing new out here, except for a small pile of books on the shelves beside the closet. Sadly, none of them hold crucial information," I informed the android.

"Real books... I thought Phee and I were the last people in Detroit to keep some. Electronic books, you can't... smell the paper, see the pages turning yellow." Hank fell silent when Connor didn't react to his words. The man found his voice again and sighed. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Hardly doubt Connor would have an idea. He's only been in working condition for a few months and hasn't really explored the old ways. The only reason I still have physical copies is because I love the feel of turning each page. You can't get that same satisfaction with all this digital shit. And, you don't have to worry about charging a book or it not working."

"Ain't that the truth," Hank smiled.

Connor's eyes suddenly narrowed as he approached a hole in the ceiling. There was no light, making it difficult to see inside the cranny. As he was directly under the hole, the android we've been searching for tackles Connor and makes a quick escape, stirring up the pigeons as he dashed out of the apartment. "Connor, go after him! We'll be fine!" I shouted over the obnoxious sound of wings flapping.

The machine nodded and snappily took chase. Hank and I exited the apartment after the horde of pigeons had settled. I glanced down the hall, eyes glued to the decrepit wall. "I know what you're thinking, Phee," Hank said.

"We'll try to cut the deviant off and help Connor catch him."

"How're we supposed to know where the hell those two are?"

"Random selection. Let's go!"

"Hey! Don't push yourself! You've already torn your stitches once!"

"I'll be fine! We've got a deviant to catch!"

The two of us ran through the streets. We caught small glimpses of Connor and the deviant as they ran across the rooftops. Hank and I decided to ascend one building and saw the deviant coming straight towards us. The man quickly pushed me aside as the machine grabbed him and pushed Hank over the ledge of the building. The Lieutenant grabbed the ledge before he could fall to the ground below. "Hank!"

Just then, Connor arrived and assisted Hank before I could react. As I saw the deviant getting away, I quickly chased after him. A few seconds later, I heard the Lieutenant shout at the RK800. "Connor, stop Phoebe before she hurts herself again!"

I didn't stop running even after hearing Connor and Hank shout for me to stop. Ignoring their worried calls completely, I chase the deviant across more rooftops. When we reached a giant gap between two buildings, the machine jumped and reached the other building perfectly. Seeing as I wasn't as agile or tough as normal androids, I took a deep breath and backed up to get a better running start. I didn't make it far before I was tackled to the ground, arms wrapped around my body protectively.

Desperate to free myself and catch up to the deviant, I tried to pry the person off of me. I recognized the tie, but I still squirmed in Connor's grasp. "Connor, let me go! He's getting away!"

"That deviant isn't more important than your life, Phoebe!" His LED flashed yellow as his hold tightened on me.

"He knew about the key symbol! We could've had another lead on Amadeus!" I shouted, grasping his jacket tightly. The fabric crinkled under my death grip as my eyes were glued in the direction the android had disappeared.

Connor's body loomed over mine as he unwrapped his arms from my waist. His hands gripped mine tightly and I knew he wouldn't let go until I had calmed down. "We will find and apprehend Amadeus. I promise, Phoebe."

I inhaled deeply to calm myself down and turned my gaze to Connor. His brown eyes met my blue ones and I saw emotions I've never seen him express. Concern and joy were mixed in his eyes, showing the worry he had for me and the happiness of learning I was alright. I sigh heavily, closing my eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. "I'm sorry, Connor. I shouldn't have chased after him. I was just so... desperate to know what he knew about that key symbol."

"You do not need to apologize. I understand you wish to capture Amadeus as soon as possible, but you cannot risk your life."

I smiled. "Thank you, Connor."

[sending-the-message]

My friend has been living in an alternate reality - (Part 10) by Mr_Outlaw_

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

ENTRY 32:

I’ve been having a hard time trying to wrap my head around Kagenori’s words. It… it couldn’t be, right? I mean, how the fuck could the world have come to this?

Well, I didn’t need to wait much longer for further explanations. Kagenori woke a few hours later. After devouring some forest-creature meat, he finally told me and Lauren how the hell he ended up here.

As it turns out, he went into hiding in Paradise X after our initial break-in. But since the whole city was kind of a mess to begin with, he was never actually caught. He tried staying hidden on the streets for a few days before he started going delirious from the lack of food in his system. Eventually, somebody stumbled upon him singing to himself in an alleyway. The guy took him into his apartment and fed him some energy bars.

“Those things were fucking vile” he told me. “But you gotta eat something.”

The guy – named Ace, was nice enough to let him stay. But from the way that he described it… the place sounded like absolute hell. While there was running water, it always scalding for some reason. In addition, AC wasn’t really a feasible amenity, so they were sweating buckets in there. But the worst part was the “neighbor”. Ace explained that he didn’t exactly know what it was in the room next to them, but that they weren’t supposed to risk “letting it out.” That meant at night, they were forced to listen to something stomp around next to them while letting out a ghoulish wail. And for whatever reason, it only moved around at night.

Eventually, Kagenori started working at a food production factory, in order to help with the rent. It was the same one Ace was employed at. It was easy for him to land the job because the staff turnover was staggeringly high. I almost gagged when he told me what those bars were actually made out of.

Anyways, a few weeks pass and he finds himself walking home alone at night. But even though the place was lawless, crime surprisingly wasn’t a huge problem. However, I guess it made sense. Everybody in that place was essentially a walking shell. Just a ghost wandering around in hell. Nobody would really bother trying to rob anybody else. It just wasn't worth it.

As he’s about halfway back to the apartment, he spots somebody up ahead. In any other instance he wouldn't have cared, but this person seemed familiar. It was Rust. He caught up to him and they started talking. They were both about as equally surprised to see each other. When he asked Rust how he’d gotten here, his demeanor soured. Apparently, the settlement that we’d first stumbled upon years ago was decimated by the Paradise X soldiers. The reason was unclear, but it probably had something to do with our break-in. He said that he’d seen innocent children get slaughtered in front of his very eyes. This… was not pleasant for me to hear, of course. I felt that I already had too much blood on my hands. Fucking hell… Anyways, as it was about to be his turn, he tried reasoning his way out of death. He claimed that he had skills that could be useful to them. This was true, of course. The guy had three engineering degrees. After an extensive period of pleading, they decided to give him a chance. There was a helicopter that needed work, and nobody over there had the technical skill to do it. If he could fix it within a month, then he’d be spared. If not… well, you get the picture. It took him 29 days, but he finally did it.

After that, he was essentially employed as a mechanical engineer. However… he wasn’t planning on staying. He told Kagenori that "he had something big in mind.” What that was exactly, Kagenori would just have to find out. Rust instructed him to survive for two more weeks before meeting him at his place.

“That was all that he told me” Kagenori stated. “I just trusted him. There was nothing else I could do, you know?”

He waited, just trudging along for the next couple weeks before knocking on Rust’s door. He didn’t say much when he opened up. Just told Kagenori to follow him. That the plan was “already in action”. He led him to the factory where he’d apparently been working at. The soldiers guarding it asked Rust who the hell Kagenori was. In response, he pulled out a nail gun and shot them both in the head. And since all that they had were batons, they couldn’t do anything about it. Reeling in shock, Kagenori asked him what the hell he was doing. Rust just told him not to worry. That this was the only way out. They walked into the place and started heading towards the back. Once there, Rust swung open a metal door and they found themselves in a tight maze of corridors. This is when Rust told him to run. They maneuvered around the claustrophobic space, taking out more guards that were scattered throughout. After a while, they started hearing distant yelling and footsteps behind them. Kagenori yelled at Rust to let him know what the fuck was going on, but he was just told to be patient. He soon realized why. About twenty seconds later, a thundering explosion could be heard from outside. As Rust would tell him later, he'd been spending his free time working on crude explosives with materials he’d stolen from the factory. He’d been discretely setting them up near the barrier walls, day by day, until it seemed enough to create a considerable entrance hole. A hole big enough for the creatures to get in.

Eventually, they found themselves in a control room with a ladder leading upwards. There were two more guards in there, which Rust also took out. It was perfect because after that, he’d run out of ammo. They hurried up the ladder, sealing the entryway with scrap metal, as they climbed onto a rooftop. There was a helicopter sitting there, about ten meters away. This was the one that Rust had been commissioned to fix.

You see, he’d been planning ahead for a while. Even though he’d essentially fully fixed it within the first few days he was here, he pretended like he hadn’t. He did this in order to have more time to tamper with the controls, as well as asking around and trying to get a sense of what each button and lever did. In the back of his mind, he knew that flying away was the only way off the island.

Eventually - on the 29th day, he’d figured it out completely. That’s when he started planting the bombs. The thing is, even though he’d fixed the engine, it still took an exorbitant amount of time to power up. About an hour and change. That’s why he needed a distraction. If he just sat in the aircraft waiting, the guards would’ve easily gotten to the rooftop in time and smoked him. But thanks to the explosion, now they were forced to deal with the horrors outside the walls.

As Rust started up the helicopter, Kagenori looked down at the chaos that had plagued the city. Monstrous abominations were rampaging the place, killing everything in sight. The guards tried quelling the ungodly assault, but to no avail. At one point, a large crocodile-looking thing started climbing up the walls to the roof, towards them. It took Kagenori about 22 swings with a baton before it eventually decided to crawl back down.

About an hour passes before they start to hear banging coming from the rooftop entrance. It sounded like somebody was using a battering ram. Fortunately, the helicopter had taken off before they had to deal with it. As they ascended into the murky sky, Kagenori looked back down at scene below. As it turns out, Rust underestimated how strong his explosives were. A huge chunk of the wall and the surrounding areas had been decimated. There wasn’t even much movement on the ground anymore. Everybody was either dead or in hiding. That’s when it dawned on him… Rust had just inadvertently killed a lot of people. A lot of innocents, in fact. He was about to say something when Rust seemed to read his mind and stopped him.

“Those people down there… they didn’t have lives worth living” He told him. “I just put ‘em out of their misery”

Kagenori didn’t try and argue with him. Deep down, he agreed with him. He just didn't want to admit it. They flew around for a few hours before he finally asked Rust where they were going. In response, he just sighed and said he didn’t know. But that anywhere would be better than Dusk Blue.

Eventually, they spotted an island and decided to descend. The engine needed to cool down anyways, so Rust thought this was a better time than ever.

The island itself was insane. Just off the flat shore stood mountains that apparently put Everest to shame. The whole place was full of them. At the base of the monumental Alps were what appeared to be vast, open cave systems. They explored the place cautiously, not wanting to draw any attention to themselves. However… it seemed that there was nothing on the island at all. Just them.

Rust told Kagenori to stay back and watch the helicopter while he explored the caves. While he initially objected to this, he figured that it’d be safer on the shore than in the darkness of the caverns. Rust put together a make-shift torch with some scrap wood and disappeared into the entrance.

Kagenori said that he waited there for what felt like hours. He was starting to get worried. Eventually, Rust finally surfaced from dark. He seemed unharmed, but his expression told a different story. He looked horrified. He was also holding a small book. Kagenori asked him what had happened before Rust just handed it over. It was old and the cover was peeling off, but there was no denying what it was.

A Bible.

Kagenori had been protestant for the longest time, so he’d essentially memorized the first few pages by heart. He read it over and it lined up perfectly. Rust explained that he found it sitting in the middle of a crudely drawn symbol, like it was part of some kind of botched ritual or something. They just sat there for a while after that. None of them had any words to say. This was a troubling revelation, after all. Rust broke the silence a while later.

“That wasn’t it.”

Apparently, he’d also seen cave paintings in there, along with pieces of what looked like torn manuscripts. He pulled them out of his bag, but they were all in Latin. Fortunately, Rust knew the language. From what he’d pieced together, something happened in 2026 that sent the world spiraling into what we were in now. It was unclear what this event exactly was, however. The writings were all vague, with words like “Corrupted” and “Reborn” popping up a lot. However… that wasn’t even the most interesting part. The year 2014 also seemed to be significant. Rust’s conjecture was that somebody had done something back then that took 12 years to fully manifest. Again, what really happened remained a mystery. All he had was the dates.

There was one last significant thing that he saw in there - a painting of a map on one of the cave walls. It seemed to be an outline of the new world. Apparently, the only thing that Rust could somewhat recognize was North America and East Asia. The other continents were torn into pieces. However, there was one small island that seemed to worth noting. It looked to be on the equator line, around where South America should have been. There was an arrow pointing to it, connected to a single word:

“Liberatio” – Latin for deliverance.

“That’s where we’re headed” Rust exclaimed. "Maybe we'll find answers". Kagenori asked him how the hell they were going to get there. “I’ll figure out a way” was Rust's only response. Right after he said that, the ground beneath them started rumbling. They soon figured out why there was nothing else on the island.

They looked over at the mountains behind them. They were shaking, but it didn’t look like an earthquake. There was a pattern to it. Almost as if they were being caused by footsteps. Eventually, they saw something moving in the distance. Something colossal. They didn’t waste any more time, hopping into the helicopter and getting the hell out of there. As they left they island behind, Kagenori watched as a creature around double the size of the mountains made its way onto the shore. Since it was obscured by some kind of mist, he couldn’t quite make out the details. But it was humanoid, for sure. What disturbed him the most was the bellowing laugh that it let out afterwards. The voice was deep and guttural, sending ripples through the sea below. It was also sinister in tone. Like it knew what they had just discovered.

After that, they flew around for a few more hours before Rust admitted that there was a problem. He didn’t know how to get to the island depicted on the cave painting. He suggested that they scavenge another island, in order to find materials for a compass. However, there didn’t seem to be one in sight. They weren’t low on fuel just yet, but that could change quickly.

The situation got even worse when they flew into a brutal storm. Kagenori claimed that it happened so suddenly. One second the skies were dry, the next, they were filled with heavy winds, rain and lightning. It was inexplicable. But then again… in this world, that seemed to be the norm.

It got so bad that Rust told him to put on one of the parachutes, “just in case”. There were no doors on the aircraft, after all. As it turns out, that was a good call. As a particularly strong burst of wind titled the helicopter to the side, Kagenori’s fingers slipped from a railing he was holding onto and he fell out.

As he made his harsh descent, he tried to gauge what he was heading into. However, the rain had gotten so bad that he could barely open his eyes. He made a swift judgement, waiting 10 seconds before ultimately opening the parachute. As he felt himself floating downwards, he started feeling the rain subside. He opened his eyes, being both surprised and relieved to find land waiting for him below. There seemed to be people on it as well. But as he got closer, he came to a horrifying realization. Those weren’t people. Or at least… not anymore. He’d made it to dead man’s land. After landing, he freaked out and started running away from the horde of zombies that had now focused their collective attentions on him. Eventually, he’d come across the settlement that we were in now.

He’d been here ever since, going on regular hunting trips and establishing himself as part of the community. But about a year ago, he’d been captured by the psychos we encountered yesterday. As it turns out, they were bat-shit crazy. They took turns torturing/toying around with him, as well as the others that he was with for pure entertainment. At one point, they were driving out, planning on tying him to a tree and letting the zombies swarm him. Fortunately, that was also we crossed paths with them ans saved him. He seemed to be getting light-headed as he finished telling me this. The nurse told me that he needed more rest, so I let him be. However, he let me know one more thing before slipping out of consciousness again:

“I don’t know if Rust is still alive. I don’t know where he is... I don’t know…”

I’m sitting here now, pondering the implications of Rust’s discovery. If this really is the future… then what the fuck happened in 2026? How could that have led to this? What was on that island Rust was trying to get to? Were we ever getting the out of here? But like Kagenori... I guess I just don’t know.

ENTRY 33:

I woke up this morning to heavy commotion. Everybody seemed scared of something. I asked around, eventually finding out that some kind of machine had been shot down over the island just a few minutes ago. I walked over to where they were keeping it. Smoker was already there, holding it in his hands. It was small and compact, looking extremely futuristic, which made sense now. I asked him what the hell it was. He stared at me, eyes wide:

“Neo-Civitus” he uttered out “This is a scout drone. They always send these before they’re about to invade.”

Confused and shocked, I took a closer look at it. In big bold letters was the phrase “NC military” written right on top of it.

Fucking hell. Not sure what’s going to happen next. But based off of everything that’s happened so far… it’s gonna be one hell of a time, for better or for worse.

[tachibubu]

Tired [Part: 2]

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Joker x Reader x Peter Parker/Spiderman.

AU included: DC/MARVEL

Prompt: You had enough with Jerome as he keeps seducing other girls in front of you so you plan to leave him and go to New York. Where you will find yourself stuck in the web of another bug who will fall in love with you.

OMG. YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN SO KIND TO ME AT THE COMMENTS ASDFGHKL. Anyways~ Back to the point! This part 2 took me awhile! ^^”, I don’t really have much complete plot line for this story so yeah. And if you’re wondering, isn’t Gotham actually New York? Well, I knew that and this are two alternate universe conjoined to each other so mind as well say Gotham is different city in this reader insert, also Gotham isn’t really a popular city in this AU so yeah. Enjoy reading!

PART [1] [3] [4] [5] [6]

It was a long ride to New York and you were awakened around the afternoon to find the owner of the bus tapping you.

“Miss, this is the last stop.”

You groaned and hoisted, nodding at the old man and resumed on walking out of the bus. The city of New York was eventful, and you couldn’t help but gawk at how optimistic the people are here. In Gotham, people feared for their lives but here you could see children moving around freely, stands that aren’t broken and everything that is the opposite of Gotham.

You separated the hood that was covering your face off. People here don’t really know much about Gotham so why bother cover up like some paparazzi would start taking picture of you. The rumbling of your stomach disturbed your fantasy, and you started to find some restaurant or whatever eatery that could provide you food for your hunger. Your luck remained beside for you as you found a hotdog stand in a distant. You paid for the hotdog that was on a stick with ketchup that accessorized it. You sat on a bench that was shaded by a tree and started to eat the food. While eating you brought out your cellphone.

And to your fear he texted you.

“Shit, now he would start find me. Better keep a low profile now,” you winced at the thought. You always loved attention and just having a low profile is hard for the formal serial killer.  You threw the phone at the earth and started stomping on it, which made some civilians gaze at you with oddness. You just wanted to stare back at the people and threat but you reminded yourself that you’re trying a new life as a rational person once again.

“There, no tracing me.” You muttered but then you grasped at the reality. “Fuck, now I don’t have a phone…”

You heaved a sigh and clutched your bag and roamed around for a while, trying to find a cheap hotel before you get a job. But then life teases you so much as you made another turn and saw a Mall with an Apple Shop.  You smirked, “Maybe stealing for a second wouldn’t hurt.”

Dragging the hood and is now covering your face, you arrived at the mall in silence. You passed the security with a little trick that Jerome taught you once, just thinking about that name made you wince. As you passed, the guards nod and you’re now almost free to steal hundreds of things in this mall but an IPhone is the only thing you needed for now. Maybe a MacBook too, it was a good decision so you included it at the list to steal in your head.

You entered the shop, and examined for any security cameras. “Of course there would be,” you murmured as you sighted three.

You then went to a laptop, which was not occupied and sneakingly hacked the system and deactivated the cameras one by one. Now your next plan, which you weren’t proud, had, consist of aiming a pistol towards the cashier.

“I need a phone dear, the latest one. And if you don’t hand it over to me I’ll—” you shot one person at the head that was trying to escape.  “Do that to you,” you spoke. Aiming once again to the cashier. “Y-yes sir!” she complied and proceeded to give you an IPhone, “Also give me one of the MacBook Air.” The cashier once again nodded and gave you the bag of the laptop. You proceeded to put the box to your backpack but then heard the girl calling 911. You rolled your eyes then shot her but then you heard the speakers of the mall alarming people.

You took your time but then you heard someone behind you. “Whoa man, stop right there.”

Turning back you saw a man dressed up in a spider suit which was odd because spiders couldn’t possible have red and blue color at the same time, right?

“The fuck is this, child’s play?” you thought out loud. “I wouldn’t think of that if I were you sir.” He then proceeded to shoot some web trying to get the gun but you managed to toss it and catch it with your other hand, you were completely surprised. People in New York have supernatural abilities? This will probably be harder than you thought it would be. You then shot the glass wall and dived in and continued on running, gripping the two bags tightly. The spider boy continued to chase you, you tried to lose him but he was too fast. You started to climb a ladder of a building. You were really talented on gymnastics and parkour because of your job in the circus with Jerome.

When you were now at the rooftop spider boy was there, stretching.

“Mister you need to give that back!” you could almost imagine him beaming in triumph. You grumbled then sprint towards him, which made him, shock for a moment but then recovered back, you proceeded to engage a fight with him. You swing some punches to him and tried to kick him, which he kept dodging. Unfortunately, he was too quick and when you avoided one of his fists your hood fell and revealed your ponytailed/hair.

“Y-You’re a girl?!” he gasped but then you managed to kick him on the chest and made a run for it. But when you were about to jump off the building and land to another one with such a great distance. Spider boy achieved to fire some webs on your leg when you jumped and tugged you towards him and proceeded to shoot some webs on all of your limbs, straining you. Preventing you to flee. You wriggled frustration is getting you.

“LET ME GO YOU FUCKING HERO WANNA BE SPIDER!”

“W-whoa! Calm down ma’am.” He brought out both of his hand and raised it beside him in a mocking manner. “If you didn’t stole, you wouldn’t been in this situation.”

The man in spider suit advanced picked the bag and the other bag, which has the laptop in it, hopefully it didn’t broke “Let me just get this and call the police—“

“JEROME! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO ME!”

The man stared at you as you started to cry and shout he was confused on why you were acting like that. A trick? No, it seems genuine.

“JEROME!”

The cops dragged you at the station while you were crying and freaking out. “Madam, that man is a psychopath. He could never love you, he brought you in this situation and you chose to believe him and now this is the punishment.”

“No… J loves me he loves me! He wouldn’t leave me in this son of a bitch jail…. JEROME!” you said, struggling. Some of your faith was vanished when the police said those words. No, he couldn’t possibly abandon you here. Isolated. Few ticks ago, you and Jerome slaughtered most of the children and some parents in a birthday party. One of the neighbors overheard it and called the police leaving you unalert but Jerome knew this. So when you started to blow a punch on one of the children on the face, Jerome said that he would be back with a surprise. This is the second time both of you had a murder spree, so you could call yourself novice. You nodded, grinning at him and heard the door shut.  You continued on punching, stomping, having the time of your life and releasing all of the stress that was buckled up inside you.

You heard someone unlocked the door and you turned back smiling, “Jerome! This is fun!”

But it wasn’t Jerome you saw. It was three cops raising their guns at you. Now, you could easily escape this now but you weren’t witty back then. And that lead to the condition you were, in a cold prison. How did you get out? An acquaintance of Jerome and you from the circus helped you abscond. It was successful but when she said that you shouldn’t do it again and that Jerome is a bad deal you didn’t consider her advice. The next day you went to the circus to find Jerome with a brunette playing some games.

“Mr. J!” you called out, they both turned around. The girl was angelic looking but had an aura around her that you didn’t like, when you glanced at Jerome. You swore he looked disappointed but rapidly covered it up. “Oh hey (Y/N)!” No sweet calls, no welcome back. As if he didn’t care you getting sealed up in the dungeon of a jail for five months, no hugs, no anything. Your heart stopped; this was the first time your heart broke due to love. “Who’s she?” the girl inquired Jerome.

“She’s a close friend of mine, hun.” You stared at him, eyes like saucer. “Please excuse us for a moment.���

You were about to speak up for yourself when he held your hand and dragged you in a well dim place. He looked at you, smiled. “I’m happy you’re out darling.” This gave you hope, a small smile managed to creep on to your face. “Don’t worry about her, bug.  She is just my new play toy, I still love you so much. Now be quiet of our relationship darling, it will ruin the fun.” He whispered and pecked your lips, it was quick which you were disappointed about but at least he gave some of his attention.

Right?

After that, he continued to do that same act again. Making you trust him, but smash it, then having an affair with another woman but claims that the female is another toy to him and you’re his soul mate.

~

“Jerome, don’t leave me…. I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass, I’m sorry for disturbing your torture, I’m sorry for asking too many question about the different girls you brought in the house! I just want you to stay Jerome…”

Spiderman looked at you confused but gloomy at the same time.  He wondered what happened to your past life that made your life so miserable. He assumed it was this “Jerome” person you were confessing about. He started to believe that you didn’t seem to be a bad person at all. Well being a homicidal person is unhealthy and awful but you seemed just mentally ill and had a hard time on your life. He couldn’t believe it but he is actually convinced that you can be cured. He pondered to whether give you to the police or just probably help you cope up and have a sane life. He felt sympathy. You seemed really afraid of being in jail; all people are but you in different case.

He sighed, “I’m going to regret this.”

“Spiderman!” he heard the cops call out. He then proceeded to slide down the building, landing gracefully on top of the car of the police. “Did you manage to capture the burglar?” the fat police said, while the other police searched for the robber.

“Sorry o-officer…” he gulped. He wasn’t really a good liar; he just hoped they bought it. “The thief escaped. I’m really sorry.”

The policeman sighed, “Well… It happens, not all heroes could do their job perfectly.” He winced, his reputation decreasing.

“Alright, I’ll just go…” he answered back, swinging and jumping back at the building. He saw you passed out, in exhaustion probably.

“Spiderman, helping a criminal. What a news, I just hope I wouldn’t get caught…” He anticipated, detaching his mask. He wiped his sweat and looked at the sunset, then back to you. “What was I thinking?…” Peter walked towards you and kneels down. “Well… Off we go miss criminal, I guess?” he questioned to himself before putting his mask on and picking you up then going back to his and his Aunt May’s apartment.  He was just thankful that Aunt May was on a vacation the one and only Tony Stark.

Two people have been asking me to tag them if the new part is out so: @adidabach @peppermint-17

If you want to be tagged at the next part (including the people I just tagged now.) Just comment!

[rhparkslope]

911 - FROM A BROOKLYN ROOFTOP

 I should be up writing but instead I’m sound asleep…

dreaming of the sun…you know…trying to lick a cold…

a phone call shakes me conscious, ”go up to the roof,” the caller tells me

my husband…something about a plane and the World Trade Center…

“You’re kidding,” I mumble and he says no…

I fumble with my clothes and turn on Channel Four…

Katie Couric is practically in tears and one of the towers is on fire…

I’m racing up the flight of stairs, throwing the door open and can’t fathom what I see.

Can you imagine  a bright blue-sky- day  and the tops of those towers engulfed in thick black smoke?                                  

Ryan from downstairs comes bursting through the door and says something like “holy shit”…

I’m feeling weak in the knees and curse those fucking Arabs or perhaps Palestinians was what I said

…sorry…but with all the inundating news lately of suicide bombings and tension on the Gaza Strip

it was the first thing that came to mind…besides wanting to scream “No. Please God,  no….”

Ryan’s stare makes me feel guilty…but I don’t have words to apologize for something like this

Instead, I ask him…“Where is Shannon.”

“She’s in Central Park, filming a commercial.”

“Can you reach her on her cell to make sure she’s alright?”                                                               

On our way back downstairs another plane has attacked us…

 Live on camera a stick figure flails its arms and legs then plunges out of view

I gaze past the television at the rumpled sheets on my still sun-drenched bed…

Please let me be  dreaming this…

The network switches to replaying the moments of impact…

But don’t I always have reoccurring  nightmares of planes colliding…and  crashing?

I realize that no I am on my knees and wide awake…

and I haven’t  had my morning coffee… Before I can make it the first tower crumbles…                                                                      

  My son…I’ve just got to talk to my son…

this is Eric’s first semester studying journalism up at Plattsburgh State

“Do you see this shit that’s going on” he asks, and then, “is everyone okay?”

I try to say reassuring things but am disconnected…

call back except the lines are all messed up…

as I compose an e-mail to him the other tower falls apart… When I return to the roof there is only the gray smoke this time…                                    

Back in the relative safety of my living room…

I still haven’t made that coffee have I? every channel is replaying those moments of impact and collapse… and all the people running...running...running for their lives…

then suddenly the news gets even worse…

Linda calls, Jeff is in DC staying just blocks from the Pentagon

We stay on the phone with each other for a while then she has to get back to work

I call Elaine at the midtown-advertising agency where she is an art director

“How will you get home tonight?” “Hopefully Metro North will be running later.” “Please be careful at Grand Central Station.”  

   Next I try Ken who sells real estate in the Bay area of California

“Stay off the Golden Gate Bridge,” I warn him.

He asks if I’m okay and I tell him “no, I’m scared to death.”

After we hang up I try to reach Eric again but the phone is dead

I feel weak as if I might crumble …and my bell is ringing,…

it’s Wylie – who used to live next door…he’s wearing a white shirt

he just made it across the Brooklyn Bridge when the first tower came down

“Is it okay if I call my wife? She’s down in Texas visiting family...”

I try connecting a phone to the Internet line and somehow that works.                                                            

  At one o’clock I finally brew that coffee and go fetch Stimpy cat from the hall

Matthew, is coming up the stairs, he’s living with my next door neighbor America now

I’m not  kidding that’s what  her Mexican family named her back in nineteen-seventy something

like Wylie, Matt saw it all but from the steps of the New York Stock Exchange

The flames…the second impact…people toppling…and from the Brooklyn Bridge

the collapse… then clouds and clouds of dust and…and ashes and ashes and ashes

of all those poor souls trying to figure out what the hell just happened                      

I am envisioning how come tomorrow and in the days ahead we will begin to learn their names…

 Joe gets through from his Montefiore Medical Center office on Fordham Road

Didn’t you always go to those info tech breakfasts at Windows on the World?

He’s been monitoring this all on the World Wide Web and has just learned about the Pentagon

I tell him about the other plane…there is no cable at his office and no reception from regular TV

Of course Tower One housed that network antenna…or was it Tower Two? “Think you’ll be able to take the Tri-borough Bridge later?”

“I’ll see what happens, but don’t worry, I’ll make it home eventually.”

Before I can say I love you he’s already hung up…

I go to check on Matthew - his eyes are still stinging…his nose and throat itchy…

“Who could have done this?” I ask him, and he mentions Bin Laden…

I have no idea who that is. ”What about America…is she okay?”

“Yes,” he says, she’s still at work but she’s alright.”

Her friend David, a musician from Windsor Terrace stops by…

and tells us how his street and yard are littered with bits of paper…

and other things blown east by south east across the river…

When he hugs me I don’t know how to act…                                                               As the years pass and I reflect on all of our reactions to this day… recalling it…reliving…revisiting it all from that same Park Slope rooftop…

 it happens every time I come up here and stare into a space for Two Twin towers…

didn’t I always take you guys for granted…only to be so impressed by that antenna for some reason…

it’s Lady Liberty standing in her harbor…lit or unlit…

which I marvel at…time and time and time again…

and thank God for…not to mention France…and all the powers that be…

giving thanks for this gift from our ally and all she’d been meant to signify

Watch over that, I implore…keep a close and cautious watch over it…

[kill-it-with-an-x-burner]

Have you ever tried writing original fiction? I think your works are good!

I was usually coerced into joining poem writing contests when I was still a student, but I’m not really much into writing original fiction.

However, I did write one back in high school. It’s about a cat whose owner died and was left to his nephew. Said cat is not very fond of his new human, but he eventually ends up looking after him anyway.

Since it’s for a “Best Original Fiction First Chapter” contest (or something along those lines), I only wrote the opening chapter. There is no official ending to the story.

There’s probably a lot of mistakes and the flow of the story might be shit, but I literally copy-pasted it from the document (no revision whatsoever), so pardon the bad writing of ol’ high schooler me. :’D

Without further ado, here is “How to Raise a Human for Dummies”.

Summary: Basically, even after taking care of him, my debt-wringing drunk bastard of an owner still died and left me to (watch over) his nephew. I can't decide who's worse.

(More under the cut.)

Ah, sweet, sweet couch. How I never want to part with you ever again. This silky fabric, this soft cushion, and mhmm, this velvety texture.... I'm in heaven. I can see the brat glaring at me on the side, but who cares about him?

Oh, you must be wondering who I am.

The name is Schrodinger. My owner calls me by that name — sometimes Schro, if he's too lazy to say my entire name (and why he gave me such a long-ass name remains a mystery to me) — but when he's drunk, which is practically most of the time, he just says a weird mix of my name and some other guy's during his slurs.

I'm your regular, run-on-the-mill tom cat. A few superstitious people thought of me as bad luck, because of my pitch-black fur and heterochromatic eyes. Honestly, humans… if I was one, I'd probably flip them a finger.

Anyways, I've been living in the streets as a kit until I was taken in by a pure, kind-hearted man.

...Oh, who am I kidding?

My owner's the biggest bastard of them all. Why he even bothered to pick little ol' me all those years ago, I'll never understand. I've been staying with Carter, my owner, for five human years (that's around thirty-six years in cat lifespan, mind you!) and I still don't understand how he thinks.

Maybe some things will just remain a mystery.

It's kind of sad to think that I'm still single and haven't got laid with a dazzling female kit out there, but I'm thinking that I've been scarred into celibacy, seeing as I was exposed to my owner's... nightly endeavors for every single day of my life; unless he was on duty, I suppose. If there was a world record for the highest number a person beds everyday, Carter would've won, hands down.

As a cat in general, I'd never thought of anyone as my owner. We felines are highly proud creatures; the most majestic and most graceful of them all. We don’t need humans to survive. However, as much as I hate to admit it, Carter took me in during my most miserable moment, and I owed a lot to him.

Besides, the man makes the best cat food I've ever eaten.

Our relationship isn't entirely owner and pet, though. Even if I regard him as my owner, it ends up with me looking out for him. God knows how many people tried to kill him, both on and off-duty, and I can't deny I haven't tried it myself. Not only that, Carter was neglectful of his health at times, and I often find myself threatening to scratch him if he doesn't get his lazy ass off his bed.

You could say that I'm living the easy life — barring the fact that I take care of a grown man in my own way — since I'm in a cozy home, well-fed, and well-groomed everyday.

Recently though, that has not been the case.

Basically, even after taking care of him, my debt-wringing drunk bastard of an owner still died and left me to (watch over) his nephew. I can't decide who's worse.

Honestly, that man had the gall to just die off without telling me. Do you have any idea how many life-and-death situations he had survived?

You see, Carter is a military officer, and he's been sent off to various wars and human skirmishes. He comes back home — sometimes gravely injured, most of the time, not — but still alive. The man has the tenacity and survivability of a damn cockroach!

That civil war in Afghanistan? That mini skirmish in Vietnam? That dispute with North  Korea? That one time he almost bled to death but still lived anyway? Hell, I even spit out hairballs into his whiskey back when he forgot to feed me for a day and he hadn't choked to his death!

He's gone through it all, and not once was his life taken away.

He's not supposed to die. I was counting on that, you know? I mean, he was too much of a bastard to die. He was a liar, a horrible drunk, a womanizer, a manipulative little snitch, and I figured he wouldn't die simply because God would do anything to keep him away as much as possible.

That's not the only issue here. The most infuriating part was that he left a will, in which he gives all his assets (and me) to his sister (regardless of the irony, if you get what I mean), who had a son (that was bad); Carter's fourteen-year-old, snot-nosed nephew.

Why did he do that?

...Damn you, Carter.

I had plans on my own — only that people don't know I can think — and you've ruined them.

When news of his uncle's death reached him, I saw him writhe in despair. Me too, I thought at the time. Why am I stuck with a brat like you?

On the other hand, Collins (I couldn’t be bothered to learn his given name) was sitting there on the side, wishing for his own death. The brat was suicidal, from what I heard, since he blamed himself for his father's death and his own evil uncle got to go before he did.

I have this impression that unhealthy mentalities run in the family.

At least Carter went out with style. I mean, he was chasing after some runaway terrorist in Africa and then he got mauled by a pack of lions and that managed to kill him, just because he wasn't paying attention, I think.

Death isn't something that anyone should ever take lightly, but I can't help but see the humor in it. “And then he got mauled by a pack of lions because of his stupidity”.

Hah.

Obviously, Collins can't appreciate it. He thinks it's an insult that Carter went first. They did say that there's only rest for the wicked.

As I said before, Carter left me to his nephew.

It was hate at first sight, I admit.

I like kids, I really do. Even when they're trying to pull my tail, I'd still find them adorable.

However, something about the brat just rubbed me the wrong way. I despised him and he loathed my very presence. It was a mutual hate relationship. Every time I strutted by, I'd hiss and try to scratch him. Every time he saw me, he'd give me a glare and would try to grab me.

I'm proud to say that he's never won any of our clashes. Those scratch marks on his arms were proof of that.

The brat and I… I don't think we'd ever get along. Besides, he's creepy. If I only knew that Carter's death would tantamount to raising some twisted little kid, I would've ran away the moment he died.

Obviously, I didn't know. That's why I ended up in a house (which has a killer couch, by the way) with Carter's awesome sister and her fucked up son.

Speaking of Carter's sister, Rachel was a single parent and thus, was out of the house most of the time — which meant, the brat and I were often alone, and trying to gut each other every time.

Collins was a lousy investment. He was mentally twisted, he was scrawny, he was clumsy, he wasn't smart, and he had zero self-esteem.

The sensible thing to do would be to stay away from the brat. The best decision, in fact, would be to leave the kid and sleep on the rooftop until Rachel comes back or something. Unfortunately, we seem to have this magnetic connection that compels us to be in each other's presence despite our mutual hate.

For reasons extremely unclear to me, I'm spending a lot of time hissing at the brat, when I shouldn't even bat an eyelash at him.

…

Hot damn, I'm actually looking out for the kid.

…No, no. I'm only doing this for Rachel.

Really.

Rachel, I really do love you and think of you as a goddess sent from paradise, but you make the worst cat food ever. What is this reddish-brown lump in my bowl? I poked it a few times and I think it moved. There goes my lunch. I'm going to have to settle with rummaging the neighbor's trash can. Never ours, because similar... things definitely ended up there.

I looked over at the brat, and his face seemed a bit green. I took a peek at his food and grimaced. It was a green thing and... was that supposed to be mashed potato? It looks like a mush of poop. I don't even want to know how mold got to his food when all of Rachel's ingredients were fresh.

Great. Carter's sister is an awful cook. How did Collins survive up to this day?

Then I remembered that a few of my owner's money went straight to him, instead of his mom. Maybe there was a valid reason why Carter sent me to their house.

I was bemoaning my fate when someone rang the doorbell. Getting curious, I walked to the doorway and saw a man around Rachel's age. He had brown hair, contrasting the family's trademark blonde hair, and blue eyes, which sort of clashed with the family's gray ones. The guy was carrying Chinese food and some cans with a picture of a cat on them.

Yuck.

If there was something I disliked more than the brat, it was commercialized cat food. However, Rachel's cooking represented death itself and I'm not taking any chances. I'd rather take the canned cat food over her grub any day.

The new arrival's not that bad, I guess. He had this fatherly aura around him. I eventually learned that his name was John, and he was Rachel's current boyfriend. Well, that, and the fact that Collins hated him with every fiber of his being.

...I knew there was a reason I liked this man.

Then once Rachel left the kitchen, the man instantly got rid of her cooking.

Go, lover boy, go! Rid us of these monstrosities!

When he had disposed of those... things, he brought out that Chinese food and those cans of cat food. I had the urge to hiss when the smell of the cat food wafted to my nose. Ugh. I still can't stand the stench, and the taste would be stale, too. But I guess I'll just have to make do with it if I don't want to starve.

After he gave me food, he gave a box to the kid, and I can see that he didn't want to eat it if it came from the man who wanted to get into his mother's pants. Oh, come on, you whiny brat. If I could put up with cheap cat food, then you can put up with perfectly decent Chinese food from your mother's lover boy.

When John took a dumpling, I thought, this is gonna be good.

If I was human, I would've laughed my ass off already. But I wasn't, so I settled with staring smugly at the brat who had the time to glare at me while John was distracted. The glare wasn't intimidating, no. It more or less resembled a pout.

That didn't deter John from his mission.

Oh, sweet lord, he thought that Collins wanted to be spoon-fed (or chopstick-fed, whatever, you get the idea). It was, simply put, hilarious.

"Stop treating me like a little kid."

"You're only fourteen, Peter."

"That's already grown up in my books!"

"Don't be like that. Here comes the train, choo-choo!"

Hahaha, I can't stop.

They went on, with Collins (or Peter, whichever) spouting hurtful personal comments. Not that hurtful, though, and that gave me the impression that the brat was only pretending to hate John. I think he genuinely likes him, seeing as the man paid him attention his mother could not, but couldn't accept him since he didn't want his father to be replaced. Brat probably believes in that 'I have only one father and mother in my lifetime' business.

I think John has the same idea, too, since he's smiling fondly at the brat.

Feh.

Humans.

This was why I hated commercialized cat food.

My stomach rumbled painfully as I howled, trying to catch Rachel's attention. The brat was sneering at me, but there seemed to be something else in his eyes.

Oh, great. The last thing I needed was pity from snot-nosed brats.

"Aww, don't you worry, little kitty," Rachel cooed at me. If I wasn't feeling miserable right now, I would have appreciated the attention. Alas, I am too far deep willowing in my own agony.

If you are curious, Rachel and the brat brought me over to a veterinarian to check what's wrong with me. They still don't understand that it was the fault of cheap cat food. I hissed at the idea of it, and they think it's because we passed by the neighbor's chihuahua.

Ah, that common misperception that cats and dogs are mortal enemies. A cat and a dog have a hissing-slash-barking fight and people think the rest of us are like that, too. To be honest, I love dogs just as much as I love kids, and that's probably why I'm sticking around the brat despite my huge dislike for him. He's all bark and no bite.

I was cut short of my musings when the veterinarian came and checked on me. When Rachel asked for the doctor's verdict, the man replied something about foreign substances in what I eat. "What did you feed him last night?"

Rachel showed him the can of cat food and I saw the doctor's eyes widened. "I think I know what caused your cat's stomach ache. This food here has a high content of science, science, science. Science, science..."

Or that's how it sounded to me, who didn't give a damn about human education. Why they're studying that much, I'd never see the reason. You see, we cats only learn three things: how to hunt, how to scavenge, and how to beg. All three are vital for survival if we want food or shelter, even if the last one is a bit degrading on our part.

To see humans taking up a lot of subjects and topics was something that any animal wouldn't understand.

I can see the brat was also confused. Meanwhile, Rachel, who somehow managed to understand all that technobabble, happily replied to the doctor's rambles. "Oh, I see. I'm so dumb that I've never thought of science, science, science!"

Geeks, I sniffed disdainfully.

"Ah, speaking of which," The doctor said. "What is your cat's name? I need to make an official clinical record for him for future references."

"Oh, um... actually, I have no idea," Rachel admitted, unabashedly. "My brother never stated his name in the papers, so..."

"Why not give him a name now? He is your cat, after all."

When I saw the brat smirked, I knew something bad was going to happen. Collins tugged at his mother's skirt and giving her his best puppy-dog eyes (I blanched at the sight. Brat has many ways to go before he can be as good as his uncle), he spoke in a clearly forced childish voice.

I winced, thinking that the two adults bought his little charade, but he can't fool me.

"Mom, why not name him Mr. Fluffles, just like that kitty cartoon on the t.v.?"

I hissed at him. Screw the brat. He knew I hated that sorry excuse of a show!

Rachel's eyes sparkled. Oh, hell no. "That's a great idea, sweetie! Okay. From now on, he will be Mr. Fluffles!"

Damn you all. The name is Schrodinger. S-C-H-R-O-D-I-N-G-E-R. The brat knows my name! If you can't pronounce my name right, just call me Schro. Over my dead body will I be called 'Mr. Fluffles' of all things!

While the doctor and Rachel were distracted, the brat smirked at me and mouthed, "You're going to lose."

I hissed at him more. I am not going to lose!

I lost. Badly.

It was bad enough that they named me Mr. Fluffles, but to put it on the official papers and get a degrading hot pink collar with that name on it? I'd be the laughing stock of my fellow felines!

I curse you, Collins. You are the child of the devil, I swear.

My only hope was John's opinion, but even he thought it was a cute name. John, you traitor. I'll get you, just you wait!

At least I had a consolation prize that made the brat sulk all day long. Apparently, John wanted to bring Collins to a kiddie fair and Rachel agreed. Hah. It made me feel a tiny bit better, since he was grumbling and being grumpy because of it. The brat yelled, complained, and kicked all he wanted, but nothing he did changed his mother’s nor John's mind.

We did go to that embarrassing kiddie fair. For serious, for real, we went to a kiddie fair. On one hand, it is the perfect thing to have a family bonding. On the other hand, John made Collins go to an embarrassing kiddie fair.

It's good that I couldn't talk, and it's good that I have a great poker face. Otherwise, there was no argument that this would end any way other than Collins trying to kill all of us (except Rachel) with a pout of doom and with him being eternally humiliated in the eyes of his peers. Heh. Kiddie fair. A fourteen-year-old boy in a kiddie fair filled with screaming hysterical toddlers.

This was even better than John, spoon-feeding extraordinaire.

This is good for me, too. It distracts me from my morbid little thoughts and gives me free entertainment to boot. If I wasn't bothering the brat or complaining about my life, I would find myself thinking of what-could-have-beens and looking around for Carter. I kind of miss that bastard.

Speaking of which, John was trying to coerce Collins to ride the carousel with him. People were staring at the lone teenager at the fair.

"I'm not going to ride that thing."

"It's not that bad, and Rachel often told me on how much you loved the carousel."

"That's the key word right there, 'loved'. I've grown out of that phase."

"I firmly believe your inner kid is still there."

"Stop embarrassing me."

"I'm not!"

"...I'll kill you."

"I'm just dragging you off to ride the carousel with me. God, you're bloodthirsty."

"I have a pocketknife and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Don't talk to me with that tone, young man, or I'll give you a time-out."

Hah, and they wonder why other people stayed away from us during the entire trip to the kiddie fair.

In the end, I thoroughly enjoyed my days with Carter's relatives. They weren't all that unbearable— even the brat, to some extent. In fact, they were downright funny and I guess... it's not hard to be fond of them. I can see why my owner cared in his own demented way.

Maybe living with them wouldn't be so bad.

That still doesn't change the fact that I hate the brat.

Yup, this is the fic. That’s it.

I didn’t win the contest btw.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 57

The Night Terrors try to get some money. Previous! Next!

The Heist

           Mr. Fuck, Psycho Doughboy, Sickness, and Reverend Meat crowd around the space heater with their friends and roommates, Serena and Aron. They’re buried under all of their blankets but they’re still freezing. Since their van has no insulation, they might as well be standing outside in the snow, naked.

           “I’m hungry,” Reverend Meat mutters.

           “We have no food or money,” Aron says, “I haven’t been able to get any jobs.”

           “Who wants to work in this weather anyway?” Serena grumbles.

           “We kind of have to,” Sickness says, “we need money. If we don’t get any food we’ll starve to death.”

           “We need some better winter clothes too,” Eff adds, “or we’ll freeze to death.”

           “Aron’s the only one of us who could handle a job though,” D-boy points out, “even Serena would probably rip somebody’s throat out if they looked at her wrong.”

           “So what are we gonna do?” Sickness asks.

           Eff groans as he rests his head against the wall and looks out the window. The glass is so frosted he can hardly see through it not that there’s much to see. Just lots of snow on an empty road.

           A van suddenly drives by. Eff blinks as he watches it. It doesn’t look all that interesting except for the name written across the side: Mussolini Banks.

           “Hey, you guys,” Eff says, “I just got a great idea.”

           Everyone looks at him curiously as he smiles excitedly.

           “What if we perform a heist?” he suggests.

           “A heist?” Reverend Meat scoffs, “we’re not master criminals.”

           “We could be,” Eff argues, “we have powers and skills humans can only dream of. Why don’t we use them to our benefit?”

           “Because doing so would make us criminals,” he points out.

           “So what?” he scoffs, “we’re hardly upstanding citizens to begin with.”

           “What sort of heist are you thinking?” Sickness asks.

           “We rob Mussolini Banks,” Eff replies.

           “Are you crazy?” Aron exclaims.

           “I mean probably.”

           “Mussolini is the richest man in the city,” he points out, “his banks have more security than the Pentagon. How would you even go about robbing one?”

           “That’s what reconnaissance is for,” Eff says.

           “We shouldn’t even be discussing this,” Reverend Meat snaps, “it’s illegal and dangerous and out of the question.”

           “I think it’s a good idea,” D-boy says.

           “Huh?” everyone exclaims with surprise.

           “You’re actually agreeing with Eff?” Sickness asks with disbelief.

           “Hear that? D-boy says it’s a good idea,” Eff says.

           “D-boy is the master of bad decisions,” Reverend Meat scoffs.

           “Rude,” D-boy comments.

           “Come on, Meat,” Eff begs, “we need money. If you can think of a better idea then be my guest.”

           Reverend Meat sighs and rubs his neck. “Well…we really do need money. And we should pay back Mussolini for messing with our Little Boss.”

           Eff, D-boy, and Sickness smirk maliciously.

           “I’m in,” Serena says excitedly.

           “Are you sure?” Reverend Meat asks.

           “Absolutely,” she nods, “it sounds like a good time.”

           “Okay, if you get caught, I don’t know any of you,” Aron grunts.

           They chuckle with amusement.

           “Okay, so where do we begin?” Serena asks.

           “Reconnaissance,” Eff replies, “and you could actually be useful for this.”

           “Right, let’s get to work,” Reverend Meat states. They all stand up and head out, leaving Aron by the heater.

           The cold winter air hits them hard but they ignore it as they go to a nearby building and leap up to the roof.

           “Alright, anyone know where the closest Mussolini Bank is?” Reverend Meat asks.

           “I do,” Serena sings, “this way.”

           They hop across rooftops like squirrels, even with the ice and frost. The exercise quickly warms them up and they arrive at their destination in no time.

           They stop on a building across the street from a Mussolini Bank. The building is extravagant with a domed roof and arched windows. There are lots of expensive looking cars parked outside and two guards standing outside the front doors.

           “Think they’re packing?” Eff asks.

           “I don’t see any guns,” Sickness replies, “but they probably have Tasers.”

           “Psh, Tasers,” D-boy scoffs, “might as well hit me with static electricity.”

           “So what’s the plan?” Reverend Meat asks.  

           “We have Serena go in and do some scouting, figure out where all the cameras are and if there are any other guards,” Eff explains, “after that we’ll figure out how to break in.”            “Alright. I’m on it,” Serena smirks. She dusts herself off, straightens up her hair, and hops to the ground. The Night Terrors watch, on edge, as she marches up to the bank. For a second they worry that the guards are going to stop her, but they don’t even glance at her.

           “She knows how to fit in,” D-boy comments.

           “This used to be her world,” Sickness points out.

           They wait patiently for a few minutes, shivering in the snow. The longer they wait, the more worried they get. What if she got caught? What would they do then?

           But fortunately she exits the bank about fifteen minutes later. She struts confidently across the street and disappears into an alley. The Night Terrors scurry across the building and meet her towards the back.

           “Alright, I know where all the cameras are located,” she explains, “and there’s a few guards inside too. There’s probably other security things too that get set up at night.”

           “Where’s the vault located?” Reverend Meat asks.

           “It’s in like the north part of the building upstairs,” Serena replies uncertainly, “like…here.”

           She draws a rectangle in the snow and thinner rectangle against the right side. “Okay, upstairs there’s a balcony. The vault is up there. I didn’t see the stairs so they’re probably in a part of the building that is blocked off to the public.”

           “No problem,” Eff scoffs, “stairs are for chumps anyway.”

           “You got a plan then?” Reverend Meat asks.

           He smirks, “oh, yeah.”            He tells them the basics of the plan. They spend the next couple hours refining it while sitting on the freezing cold rooftop. When the sun sets, they get to work.

           The bank is closed and all of the lights are turned off. A single night guard patrols the parking lot with a flashlight. The Night Terrors and the vampire drop to the ground and run across to one of the banks neighboring buildings. They climb up to the roof and leap over onto the bank.  

           The domed roof is made entirely of glass. They can see clearly into the bank through it. It’s completely dark except for beams of light from the flashlights carried by other night guards. There’s five of them: one on the balcony and four on the main floor.

           “That balcony,” Serena whispers, “that’s where the vault is.”

           “It probably has all kinds of alarms,” Sickness points out.

           “Right. First we have to cut the power,” Reverend Meat says.

           “On it,” D-boy nods. He slides down the roof and hops over to a power pole. He perches on the top like a vulture as he pulls out a long machete from his hat. He slices through the power lines closest to the bank. A horrible shock travels all through his body while all of the lights of the street blink out. Once the shocking has stopped, he giggles, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth.

           “That was awesome,” he drawls before jumping back to the others.

           “I mean…I didn’t mean ‘cut the power’ like literally,” Reverend meat says, “but that works.”

           They look back into the bank. The only guard who seems confused is the one outside by the front door. He’s the only who noticed the lights are out. All of the others inside are oblivious.

           “Looks like he’s grabbing a phone,” Eff says as they watch him.

           “We better stop him,” Reverend Meat points out.

           “Dibs,” Serena chirps before sliding down to the front of the building. The guard is pulling a cellphone from his pocket. Before he has a chance to dial, she pounces on him like a cat, making him fall flat on his face. Then she picks up like he weighs nothing and tosses him to the side of a building. Before he has a chance to scream, she jumps onto his back and bites his neck. Within seconds, he’s drained of his blood.

           Serena licks her lips as she picks up his body and tosses him into a nearby dumpster. Then she hops back onto the building.

           “Nice,” Eff grins.

           “Thanks,” she chimes as she licks her fangs.

           They look back into the building. Two of the guards are talking to each other and pointing outside.

           “Uh oh,” Sickness mutters, “looks like they’re noticing how dark it is.”

           “We have to take them all out quickly before they call someone,” Reverend Meat says.

           “Right,” Eff nods. He reaches into his hat a couple times and pulls out two throwing knives. “D-boy, you take the two on the left, I’ll take the two on the right. Sickness, you get the one on the balcony.”

           “Right,” she nods while D-boy grabs two throwing knives from his own hat.

           “Reverend Meat,” Eff grunts, “break the glass.”

           Reverend Meat pulls back his large fist and smashes a hole in the glass. Before any of the guards can react, the Doughboys dive through head first. In midair, they whip their knives across the room, successfully hitting their respective targets in the head.

           Meanwhile, Sickness grabs the edge of the hole and swings in towards the balcony. The guard stumbles out of the way as she lands on the banister. He starts to grab something from his belt but before he can, Sickness jumps at him with inhuman speed. She knocks him to the floor and snaps his neck like a twig before he even has a chance to breathe.

           “Woo,” Sickness sighs as she stands up, wiping her forehead. The others meet her on the balcony and they look at the vault.

           It looks like a generic vault door: large, round, and metal. But instead of any sort of handle, there’s some sort of pad embedded in the wall beside it.

           “Looks like some sort of scanner,” Serena says as she examines it. “For fingerprints or a retinal scan maybe.”

           “Think one of these guards could open it?” Eff asks.

           “I doubt it,” Reverend Meat replies, “it probably only opens for a higher-up, like the manager or something.”

           “Can you break it?” D-boy asks.

           “It might take a couple punches,” he responds as he cracks his knuckles. “But I should be able to smash it.”            “Stand back,” he orders as he pulls back his fist. He punches the door hard and just dents the metal. He punches it again, cracking it. He punches it a third time and successfully smashes through it.

           “Nice,” Serena cheers.

           They peer through the hole at mounds of cash sitting on rows of shelves.

           “Wow,” they sigh with awe.

           “We’ll be set for life with this,” Eff squeals.

           “We’ll be able to get a house,” D-boy adds.

           “And food!” Reverend Meat cheers.

           “And clothes,” Sickness sighs dreamily.

           “Well, what are we waiting for?” Serena asks.

           “Yeah!” Eff chimes and hops through the hole. The second his feet touch the floor, the whole room starts flashing red and an alarm starts blaring.

           “What?” he exclaims.

           “But we cut the power!” D-boy shouts over the alarm.

           “There must be some sort of backup system,” Reverend Meat points out.

           The building shakes for a second as a loud bang is heard from somewhere downstairs.

           “What the hell was that?” Sickness asks.

          They look off the balcony as something smashes through the wall behind the teller’s counter. They watch, wide-eyed as a large robot with hocked legs, glowing red eyes, and guns for arms marches out into the middle of the room.

           “What…the hell…is that…?” Serena asks.

           The robot looks at them, its red eyes scanning each of them. Then it lifts its guns.

           “Eff, we gotta go!” Reverend Meat shouts.

           “I’m not leaving empty handed!” Eff snaps. He scoops up some cash with his hat and puts it back on before leaping out of the vault.

           The robot starts firing. They scream as they duck under the bullets and race down the balcony, diving into the stairwell.

           “What do we do?” Serena shouts over the gunfire.

           “We’re getting out of here,” Reverend Meat replies before smashing a hole into the wall leading outside. They immediately jump through and land on the ground.

           They start to run away when a loud smash from the bank catches their attention. They look back as the robot walks through the smashed front door. It looks at them with its glowing red eyes and marches after them.

           “It’s chasing us!” Serena shrieks.

           “We have to destroy it!” Eff shouts.

           “How?” Sickness asks.

           Before any of them can answer, the robot starts shooting again. They scream and jump in different directions to escape the gunfire.

           The robot continues marching down the road as it fires a seemingly endless stream of bullets, taking out fences, walls from nearby buildings, and power poles. The Night Terrors and Serena barely manage to avoid getting hit thanks to their quick reflexes.

           D-boy ducks behind a bullet-riddled dumpster as the robot marches by. It hasn’t noticed him yet. He watches it for a second before noticing one of the knocked over power poles. The ends of its powerlines are shocking, sending electrical sparks off in all directions. They’re the ones he cut earlier!

          He smirks as a lightbulb goes off in his head. He races over to it, grabs one of the powerlines, and whips it at the robot. The sparking end hits its metal back, electrocuting it immediately. It freezes as sparks fly off, steam rises through its joints, and bolts and screws pop out.

           D-boy leaps away. The other Night Terrors and Serena watch what’s happening for a second before racing away. They all duck behind a nearby building just as the robot explodes.

           They peek onto the road. All that’s left of the robot is a small crater in the road surrounded by miscellaneous metal bits.

           Before any of them can breathe a sigh of relief, sirens are heard nearby.

           “Uh oh,” Serena squeaks.

           “We’re out of here,” Reverend Meat grunts.

           They jump to the rooftop and leap away before the police can get there.

           The make it back home by midnight. They stumble into the van before collapsing on the beds, groaning exhaustedly.

           Aron was sleeping on one of the beds. He perks up, wide awake. “Well? How’d it go?”

           Eff smirks as he takes off his hat and dumps out a dozen wads of cash.

           “Wow! You actually did it!” Aron exclaims with surprise.

           “It’s not as much as we were hoping,” D-boy points out.

           “There were security protocols we weren’t expecting,” Sickness adds.

           “Are you kidding? This is great!” Aron says excitedly as he examines the cash. “I’ve never seen so much money. There’s gotta be almost a thousand dollars.”

           “Well, I suppose that’ll do,” Serena shrugs.

           “Good, because we are never doing that again,” Reverend Meat snaps.

           “Still,” Eff sighs as he lies down, folding his arms behind his head. “It’s pretty cool. We almost got away with millions.”

           “And we did it scot-free,” D-boy adds.

           “Yup,” Sickness nods, “we took care of that robot, there was no camera footage. Nobody will ever know it was us.”

           “Not bad for our first time,” Serena smirks.

           The laugh victoriously, like a bunch of dramatic, evil villains.

           The next day, at Mussolini Banks Head Office, Celio Mussolini impatiently taps his fingers on his desktop. There are two suited men standing beside him. He’s watching the news on a large, flat screen TV hanging on the wall. It’s talking about the robbery at one of his banks. The reporter is talking about how the police have no idea what happened: there is no camera footage or fingerprints.

           Mussolini shuts off the TV and growls angrily.

           “Forgive me, sir,” one of his subordinates says, “but is it really a big deal? They only took about 800 dollars.”

           “800 dollars too much!” Mussolini barks, “besides, they smashed a hole through the glass ceiling and the vault door. The ceiling is bullet proof glass and the vault is made out of the strongest metal on the planet. How could they have smashed through it? And as if that wasn’t bad enough, they killed all of my guards and the robot! So yes, it is a big deal!”

           The men tremble nervously as Mussolini continues tapping his fingers on the desktop. He stops when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

           “Sir?” Carson questions as he peeks inside.

           “What did you find out?” Mussolini asks impatiently.

           Carson closes the door behind him and rests something on the desk. “Our men managed to scavenge it from the robot’s parts. Thankfully it wasn’t destroyed when it exploded.”

           It’s a memory chip. Mussolini plugs it into his computer. A picture pops up of five people standing on the balcony in front of the vault.

           “Who are they are?” Mussolini asks.

           “Well uh I’m not sure who four of them are,” Carson says, “when we ran facial recognition, nothing on them popped up. But we found lots of information on this one.” He points to a woman with shoulder-length black hair. “She’s Serena Von.”

           “Von? As in Charles Von?” he questions.

           “Yes, sir. She’s his eldest daughter.”

           “I see,” Mussolini muses, “get him on the phone. I’m sure he’ll want to know his daughter is out robbing banks. And see if you can get him to tell you where she is now.”

           “Yes, sir,” Carson nods before scurrying away.

           Mussolini turns in his chair to gaze out the large window behind him. It looks out onto the street. He can see loads of people down below, marching up and down the road, going about their dull day-to-day lives.

           “Whoever these crooks are,” he says, “they must be very good to have connections to someone like a Von. They must be cunning and powerful. But I will find them. I will find them and make them suffer in every conceivable way. Because nobody fucks with Celio Mussolini and gets away with it.”

           “Uh, sir, but what about the C’s?” the first subordinate asks.

           Mussolini suddenly whips out a handgun and blows a hole in his head. His partner winces as the body falls the floor but says nothing.

           Mussolini snarls, “nobody.”