#threateningly points a rolled up newspaper at my brain

[trollbreak]

🧍‍♂️ it was clown and teeth night… and then I went to bed… and when I finally was falling asleep my brain pulled some shit…

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Power Outage

A/N: Requested by anon, from the Fluff prompts of my Fall Prompts list. Thanks Nons, hope you like it! :))

Fall Prompts

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, Foul language, fluff, sass because Tony!

Word count: 1300ish

…

Eyes squeezed shut for God knows how long, you finally opened them to find your body crushed against Tony in his suit, holding on for dear life. You realized you were on the ground and it was covered in snow that was slowly getting through the fabric of your skirt.

The face-plate of the suit was open to reveal Tony who was sporting a fresh nose-bleed and the most overwrought look.

He hadn’t loosened his grip on you, making you wonder how you hadn’t cracked any ribs yet. Maybe you had, the adrenaline just wasn’t letting you know.

“You okay babe?” his voice dripping with anxiety.

“I’m fine. The snow is making my clothes wet.” You huffed, pushing the suit back with all your might and scrambling up. Dusting the snow off of your work outfit, you looked around the dark empty space you had crash landed on.

There wasn’t a single building in sight, not even an empty gas station or a shady motel, it was just snow-covered land and a few scarce trees as far as the eye could see.

“Jarvis, don’t leave me buddy.” You heard Tony mumble. The suit had given up, looking like a metal corpse against the icy white bed it laid on. Tony on the other hand hadn’t given up, you could practically see the wheels in his genius brain turn as he fiddled around, trying to get his suit back online.

“We need to find some place warm Tone, or our bodies are gonna go offline as well.” Breath visible as you spoke, you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“And we leave him here?” Tony looked up at you, trying to deny the fact that cold was getting to him.

“Look we’ll try to find a house, a gas station or something, anything out there and we’ll find a way to bring your precious suit back later okay? The coyotes aren’t gonna attack a pile of metal.”

You pacified him, hoping he would notice your teeth chattering and the fact that knees down, your legs were pretty much unprotected, that he’d take your advice. He did.

…

Both of you kept walking until you came across a timeworn deserted looking cabin with a weak porch light flickering. If it wasn’t for the freezing cold penetrating deep into your muscles making you walk like a robot, you would’ve made a run for it.

Tony turned the main switch on bathing the place in a shady orange-yellow, revealing a mangled lounger, dirty old newspapers covering the entirety of the wooden floor, some pictures on the wall and a heater. Thank heavens for that.

“God bless there’s a radiator.” You managed to say, before tip toeing inside.

“Now pray it works, that thing looks ancient.” Tony closed the door behind him gingerly, rubbing his hands together.

You pushed the knob and the radiator whirred to life making you sigh happily. The back window had sizable crack in the glass which was letting the unyielding icy blasts of wind inside. Removing your blazer, you shoved it to close the gap going with the only immediate solution to the problem.

“Come here.” Tony wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm you up. The ache in your body and legs became apparent the longer you stayed in the embrace.

Almost sensing it, he walked you towards the dirty couch and took a seat still holding you close, a cloud of dust emerging as you sat.

“I’m sorry I lead us here, in the middle of nowhere.” Tony quietly admitted.

“Perils of being with a superhero I guess.” You teased, making him snigger.

The wind was raging at this point, making the window rattle threateningly. As tired as you were, you couldn’t wait to get his suit back online and get the hell outta this place.

“Alright, I’m gonna find a cable or something. Help me will ya?” you rolled your eyes as you both began searching for one.

To your luck, you found a small yet sturdy looking rope underneath some newspapers. Right as you bent to pick it up, the fuse sparked and the house was doused in darkness.

“Fuck!”

“Hand me the rope, you stay here, I’ll go and—” Tony began but you interrupted him.

“If you think you’re leaving me all alone in this fucking cabin, you’re sadly mistaken Stark.”

Even in the darkness, Tony could make out you crossing your arms over your chest giving him the ‘I-could-kill-you’ look. Resigning to his fate, he sat cross-legged on the floor, soon joined by you.

“I’m hungry.” You sighed after a few moments of silence. Hearing him shuffle around his sweat pockets, you could make out a silhouette of a small bag.

“Blueberries?”

“You just happen to carry blueberries in your pocket?” bewildered, you raised your eyebrows at him in the dark.

“Look, do you want it or not?”

…

Temperature inside the room was somewhat bearable, whatever little the heater had managed to generate was sufficient. Faint, distinct howling sounds reached your ears in the night, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand up, as you automatically shifted closer to Tony.

“Oh fuck me.” You muttered as the howls grew louder.

Tony – who you thought was fast asleep, made you shift so you could sit in his lap straddling him, your skirt riding up your thighs in the process.

Contemplating ways of passing time, your hands went around his neck, “Do you know how to fight coyotes?”

“No. But I know I can take your mind off it.”

Pleased that he was on the same thinking plane, you leaned in to kiss him. He winced a little when you deepened the kiss and your nose brushed against his.

“I’m sorry Tony, your nose—”

“Couldn’t care less.”

He muttered in between kisses, pulling your body flush against his. He traced your lips with his tongue and you willingly opened your mouth, gripping the ends of his hair in your fingers.

Trailing wet kisses down your neck, his hands groped at your breasts through the thin fabric of your blouse, nipples hardening at his touch. Your gasp echoed in the room, as he sucked at your pulse point. You felt Tony’s erection tenting in the sweats, making you roll your hips against him earning a grunt.

Bunching your skirt around your waist hastily, he stroked you through your soaked panties making you whimper. Your own hands worked on freeing his cock from its barriers.

Pushing your panties to one side, he wasted no time in lifting your hips and lowering you onto him in one swift motion. A collective groan contrasted against the silent night.

Resuming to devour his mouth, you began moving, slowly at first but picked up speed when his hands dug at your hips.

Leaning back, you placed your hand on the floor only to retract when it landed on something that made a crunching sound.

“Baby that was the packet of blueberries.” Tony laughed, making you relax and resume your actions.

Maybe it was the excitement and adrenaline but you found your climax approach quicker than usual, already feeling the coil in your belly threatening to snap. Tony met your thrusts halfway, making you moan and hold onto his shoulders as your orgasm crashed over you.

Feeling your walls flutter around his cock, his hips faltered and he too, came with a loud groan, face buried in your hair.

Carefully getting off him, you straightened out your clothes and snuggled to his side, closing your eyes.

“This has to be the dirtiest place we’ve had sex in.” you mumbled quietly.

“Honey, I think you’re forgetting about that shady motel in Nevada.”

...

Fall Prompts Masterlist

[orangeoctopi7]

Walking Like a One-Man Army

I guess this chapter is kinda for @soosly ? It does prominently feature Soos being a BA.

: Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 :

The three of them piled into Soos’s truck. Ford elected to slide into the back of the cab with Mabel rather than sit shotgun. He needed to tell his niece what Debbs had decided.

“Mabel, I, uh…” He said slowly, “I spoke with your mother earlier this morning…”

The colorful girl tensed and pulled the collar of her sweater up a bit. Had all their ill-fated conversations over the last couple of days left her apprehensive to even speak with him?

“...I told her I wanted to keep Dipper on as my apprentice, and that you were welcome to stay here as well. Unfortunately, she, uh, declined to grant her permission.” 

“Oh!” Mabel smiled with relief, letting her collar drop. “That’s ok! Me and Dipper already talked about it and decided not to stay here anyway, so everything works out!”

Ford’s heart sank. So Stan was wrong. The children had indeed come to realize the old researcher was a toxic influence in their lives. He tried to tell himself it was for the best, to focus on his intellect and control his emotions, but controlling anguish was a lot harder than controlling fear. He at least was able to keep his expression neutral as he found something else to distract him: nitpicking grammar.

“Dipper and I.” He corrected her mechanically. “In any case, we need to come up with a plan to confront Bill and find Fiddleford.”

“He’s got this little shelter next to one of the telephone poles.” Soos commented from the driver’s seat. “It’s actually surprisingly nice for something in the middle of the dump made completely out of scrap material.”

“If Bill’s expecting us, that’s probably where he’ll be.” Ford said gravely. “I imagine he’ll keep Fiddleford close-by, to keep a close eye on his bargaining chip. We’ll need a distraction. Bill may be an all-seeing eye, but even he has trouble splitting his attention.” 

“Oooh, I’m super amazing at being a distraction!” Mabel piped up.

“I don’t doubt that.” Ford nodded, fondness somehow managing to slip past all the other emotions he was repressing. “But I promised your brother and Stan that I’d keep you safe, so I need you to stay close to me. Soos, do you think you could be a good distraction?”

“Oh yeah, totally.” Soos said nonchalantly. “Mr. Pines asks me to be the distraction all the time! When the taxman comes, or the safety inspector, or the police….”

“Of course he does.” Ford muttered. “What I need you to do is keep Bill’s attention while Mabel and I look for Fiddleford and get him to safety. Bill should still be possessing that time travel agent, so while he won’t be able to access any of the reality-warping powers he wields in the mindscape, he will have access to any weapon from Gravity Falls’ history or future. You’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Well, they did teach me how to disarm an opponent with a gun or knife in my karate class, so I’ll probably be ok.”

* * *

It was quieter that Mabel was used to when they reached the dump. Normally, you could hear the sound of power tools and banjo strings even from the dump’s entrance, but not today. Today was deceptively peaceful.

The peace was broken by an eerie, high-pitched laugh. It was coming from the center of the dump, but as they looked around frantically, they couldn’t see their enemy anywhere. Ford fired his blaster, obliterating a board in the fence with a one-eyed triangle carved into it. 

“Well, he knows we’re here.” He said gravely. 

“What should we do?” Mabel asked.

“Proceed with the plan. Soos, you head straight for the center of the dump, we’ll go around the long way. Mabel, do you think you’ll be able to lead me to Fiddleford’s shelter if we don’t take a direct route?”

Mabel nodded with determination, even though she was only about 50% sure she’d be able to find the place, considering she’d only been there once. 

They split up, Mabel leading Ford towards the east wall of the dump. She was pretty sure if she climbed up the pile of wrecked cars there, she’d be able to look out over the dump and figure out a way to get to McGucket’s shelter, and maybe even see where Bill was at.

While running through the dump, they heard the occasional scurry of a racoon or possum through the trash. It was clear that Ford’s already twitchy nerves were on high alert, and he leveled his blaster at every single one. Luckily, he hadn’t been startled enough to fire it yet, which was good because they were trying to sneak around while Soos was distracting Bill.

The stack of cars was within sight when they noticed more scurrying around the corner. Only unlike all the other scurries they’d heard, it seemed to be running towards them instead of away from them. Ford pointed his blaster yet again, and pulled Mabel behind him.

“PEEKABOO!” Blendin’s face wearing a contorted grin popped out from around the corner. “WOW, SIXER, YOU REALLY EXPECTED ME TO TAKE THE BAIT AND GO AFTER QUESTION MARK? PPPPFT, PLEASE! HE’S NOWHERE NEAR AS FUN TO MESS WITH AS YOU! OR SHOOTING STAR, FOR THAT MATTER.” 

Bill took a few menacing steps towards them and leaned down so he was closer to Mabel’s eye-level. “WHADDAYA SAY KID? HOW WOULD YOU LIKE A NEVER-ENDING PARTY FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? I’LL MAKE SURE ALL YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS ARE THERE, AND YOU’LL NEVER HAVE TO GO TO HIGHSCHOOL! IN FACT, YOU’LL BE ABLE TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS GIVE ME THAT RIFT!”

“Don’t you dare speak to her.” Ford growled. 

“You’re a butt-brain!” Mabel shouted, flinging out the worst insult she could think of.

Bill shrugged Blendin’s shoulders smugly. “OH WELL. I WAS GONNA LET YOU HAVE YOUR OWN PERSONAL PARADISE BUBBLE FOR YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS, BUT IF YOU’RE NOT GONNA COOPERATE WITH ME, I GUESS YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO SUFFER UNIMAGINABLE PAIN AND DESTRUCTION LIKE THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE DIMENSION.” He pulled out a large rusty pipe and hefted it threateningly in his hands. “SO, WHERE’S THAT RIFT, IQ?”

“You really think I was stupid enough to bring it here with me?” Ford scoffed.

“WELL, I MEAN, YOU WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO TRUST ME.” Bill counted on his fingers. “AND TO THINK YOUR BROTHER WOULD ACTUALLY LISTEN TO YOU WHEN YOU CALLED FOR HELP. AND TO USE TOO MUCH GLUE WHEN YOU TRIED TO SEAL THE RIFT. SO YEAH. I DO THINK YOU’RE THAT STUPID.”

“Well I’m not.”

“OH, LEMME GUESS. YOU LEFT IT WITH PINETREE?”

“And with Grukle Stan!” Mabel added defiantly.

Bill snorted. “YEAH, ‘CUZ I’M REAL SCARED OF HIM!”

The possessed time traveler didn’t even get a derisive chuckle out before Soos barreled into him with a flying kick.

“Hey dude, I need you to pay attention to me for the next, I dunno, five to ten minutes?” He looked over at Ford. “D’you think that’s enough time?”

Ford just nodded mutely, unsure of how else to react to the handyman’s sudden entrance.

Bill picked his possessed body up off the ground. “YOU WANT ME TO PAY ATTENTION TO YOU, QUESTION MARK? HOW DO YOU LIKE THIS ATTENTION?” He pulled out a time tape and disappeared in a flash, only to reappear a second later with a large carpenter’s hammer in his hand. He threw it at Soos, who dodged it with skills honed from ten years of karate sparring.

As Bill continued to pursue Soos, pulling out weapons from random time periods as he went, Ford pulled Mabel away, back towards the center of the dump. This was just the distraction they needed, it just happened in a different order than they’d been expecting. 

So, her original plan to look for McGucket’s shelter from the top of a trash mountain wasn’t going to work now, but she could still find it, right? She remembered that a telephone pole had been one of the main support beams in the little hut, so she just needed to follow the telephone lines! Spotting one above, she rushed ahead, now pulling Ford instead of the other way around.

Sure enough, they came upon McGucket’s hovel nearby. Too nearby. They could still hear Soos doing his best to lead Bill on a wild goose-chase on the opposite side of a pile of discarded furniture and tires. But they could also hear a low, animal-like moan from inside the shelter. The two of them rushed across the clearing, hoping to reach the fox skin that acted as a door before Bill rounded the trash pile.

Before they could reach it, two things happened.

First of all, a loud, up-beat pop song started blaring out of Mabel’s pocket. 

“Girl, oh girl, you got it all, you know.”

“But girl, oh girl, you don’t got me, no!”

Mabel slapped her forehead and pulled out her phone, trying to silence it. “Ugh, Pacifica! Bad timing!”

Second, Bill blew away the trash pile with a shot from a cannon, sending chunks of broken wood and plastic everywhere and clearing a path between him and the shelter.

“THERE YOU ARE!”

Mabel just barely managed to hold onto her phone as Ford grabbed her by the arm and practically threw her into the door. He hurtled in after her, but no second shot came. Instead, they heard a loud, frustrated groan.

“UUUGH, WHY DO YOU HUMANS MAKE WEAPONS THAT ARE SUCH A WASTE OF TIME? WHO THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO HAVE TO REPACK THE GUNPOWDER AND ROLL IN ANOTHER BALL EVERY TIME YOU WANT TO SHOOT SOMETHING?”

“Well, it’s not that they thought it was a good idea, it’s just that they hadn’t developed the technology--” Ford started to explain when Mabel reached up and covered his mouth. He really couldn’t help himself sometimes, could he?

That same moan they’d heard before came again, louder, from under a pile of newspapers. Many of them had frantic calculations scribbled all over them. Ford reached down and brushed them aside, revealing a shivering, hyperventilating McGucket.

Mabel had seen McGucket be pretty crazy this summer. He’d jigged on an unplugged videogame for a week, ate his way out of a dinosaur, and claimed he preferred to walk backwards when she gave him a makeover. But she’d never seen him look so terrified and broken. His eyes were wide and unfocused, like he didn’t even notice they were there, and his breaths were coming in short, sharp whines. It was especially sad compared to the last time she’d seen him, when his mind really seemed like it was beginning to clear.

Ford looked down on his friend, absolutely devastated. If McGucket was looking bad compared to the last time Mabel had seen him, she could only imagine how he looked compared to the last time Ford saw him. 

“Y’KNOW WHAT, I’M JUST GONNA GO BACK AND GET ANOTHER ONE THAT’S ALREADY LOADED.” They heard Bill whine, followed by the zap of the time tape being used.

McGucket moaned again at the sound of Bill’s voice, shutting his eyes tightly and clutching his head. That seemed to snap Ford out of his shock, and he reached down and scooped the old inventor into his arms.

“Let’s get out of here.” He told Mabel.

Just as they ran out the door, Bill reappeared in front of them with another cannon.

“UH-UH-UH! FOUR-EYES ISN’T GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL I GET WHAT I WANT, SIXER!”

“Just keep running!” Ford shouted to Mabel. They picked up the pace and just barely got out of the way in time to avoid the cannonball that ripped through McGucket’s shelter.

“Dudes, over here!” Soos called to them, where he was trying to finish reloading the other cannon Bill had abandoned after less than a minute of trying. “We can fight cannon with cannon!”

“There’s no time!” Ford barked. “We need to either get out of here or find cover!”

“Cover, huh?” Soos said thoughtfully, scratching his chin, until an idea popped into his head. “Oh! You’ve seen that old timey video of the dude who takes a cannonball to the stomach and it just bounces off of him? I’ve always wanted to try that!”

Ford and Mabel stared at him for a beat, dumbstruck.

“I say follow your dreams, Soos!” Mabel encouraged him.

“Yes, if you believe you’re capable, I see no reason not to give it a shot.” Ford agreed.

When Bill reappeared with another cannon, Soos stood squarely in front of it while Ford and Mabel made a run for the truck.

“OH, THIS OUGHTA BE GOOD!” Bill smirked as he fired.

Soos braced himself just as the cannonball collided with his stomach. While the iron ball did bounce off his gut and drop to the ground, Soos was also thrown back almost three feet. He landed on his back but the wind was already knocked out of him. As soon as he could move again, he rolled over and threw up.

“Ohhoho… dude…” the handyman muttered. “I knew that was probably gonna hurt, but it still hurt way worse than I was expecting. Ugh, I think I might’ve cracked a rib.”

No answer. Not even a mocking remark from Bill.

“Dudes?” He slowly got up to his feet and looked around. Ford and Mabel had run away, and Bill had chased after them. Oh well, at least Soos had bought them some time. He reached into his pocket to call his abuelita for a ride home, but alongside his phone, he felt another object. His truck keys. “Uh-oh.”

* * *

Despite Soos’s best efforts, Bill was still hot on their tail. Fiddleford squirmed weakly in Ford’s arms as they passed another mountain of garbage. His eyes seemed to briefly focus on Ford, but they looked far, far away.

“I’m jus’ barely gettin’ my mind back now, I don’t wanna lose it again...” The old inventor murmured feebly before resuming his catatonic state. It felt like someone had just stabbed Ford in the heart with an icy dagger, and he picked up the pace.

The sign above the dump’s exit soon came into view, but there were still several more piles of junk between here and there. As they fled, Mabel turned and fired her grappling hook at an old kitchen sink sticking half-way out the bottom of one of the larger junk piles behind them. The hook caught on the faucet and Mabel yanked back on the line hard, dislodging the kitchen sink and collapsing the garbage mountain in a landslide. 

“Let’s see Bill blast his way through that!” She cheered.

Ford knew it was too soon to relax. As long as Bill was possessing this time travel agent, he had access to any weapon in human history, or humankind’s future, for that matter. Although, come to think of it, why hadn’t Bill used a weapon from the future on them yet? Perhaps that would draw the attention of the Time Paradox Avoidment Enforcement Squadron?

“There’s the truck!” Mabel exclaimed, bringing Ford out of his speculations. They skidded to a stop as they finally reached the vehicle and Ford tried to open the door.

It was locked.

Soos still had the keys.

Ford swore under his breath as he searched for something to pry the door open with. Yes, he could break into the truck, and yes, he could hotwire it, but that all took time! Time they didn’t have!

He was expecting Bill to step out of the dump any second now, but he didn’t appear. Instead, what at first glance appeared to be a flock of ravens rose out of the nearby woods. At the same time, Fiddleford thrashed in his arms and began to yell incoherently. Stanford tried to lay him in the back of the truck gently, so he wouldn’t drop him. The old researcher’s blood ran cold. It sounded almost identical to the gibberish his friend had spouted immediately after the failed first portal test. 

As the mysterious flock drew near, Ford began searching for a rock, a golf club, anything he could use to break open the truck’s windows and get inside, all while keeping a close eye on the approaching swarm. As they came closer, he could see they weren’t birds, they were bats! But why would a swarm of bats take flight in the middle of the day? They were close enough to start blocking out the sun when Ford realized they weren’t bats. They were Eye-bats!

He pulled out his blaster and started firing into the swarm. “Mabel, find something to break into the truck with!”

She nodded and took a step back towards the dump, when Bill finally made his leisurely way to the exit. Ford couldn’t help but notice that Fiddleford’s cries stopped almost as soon as the possessed time traveler appeared.

“YOU FLESH-SACKS AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE!” Bill crowed. “NOT UNTIL I GET THAT RIFT! AFTER THAT, I HONESTLY COULDN’T CARE LESS.”

Just as Bill took another menacing step towards Mabel, Soos appeared, sledding down a trash mountain on a car door. He crashed into Bill and kept going until colliding into the side of his truck.

“Uh… I got the keys.” The handyman said in a daze, holding them up triumphantly.

Ford grabbed the keys and helped him up and into the shotgun seat. “I think I’d better drive.”

“Thanks dude, I appreciate it.” Soos said with a chuckle, then clutched his stomach. “Ooof, ugh, that’s… that’s definitely bruised.”

The truck zoomed away just as Bill rushed for the truck bed where Fiddleford was still laying. The swarm of Eye-bats descended on them, and Ford rolled down his window, steering with one hand and firing his blaster into the flock with the other. He knew it wasn’t exactly the safest position for his friend to be in, nearly unconscious in the bed of a speeding, reckless pickup truck, but he couldn’t exactly pull over and buckle him in next to Mabel. Not if they didn’t want to be overtaken by Eye-bats. The old researcher just had to hope that his old friend would be able to hold out until they reached the shield spell.

* * *

Stan was just sitting and watching tv like this was a perfectly normal day. Dipper wondered how he could possibly do it, just push all the danger and worry aside and vegg out like that. Sure, Stan wasn’t really invested in McGucket’s safety, but he had to care what might happen to Mabel, Ford, and Soos, right? 

Of course, Dipper had known Stan long enough that he knew the old conman tended to express his emotions in a weird way. He teased and noogied to show affection, loaded on chores instead of compliments, and lied to the people he loved to try and keep them safe. Not to mention he’d spent the last thirty years trying to bring his lost brother home with an incredibly dangerous machine, while also pretending everything was normal. Maybe Stan was just really good at ignoring danger and worry by this point. And wow, that was a depressing thought. 

Dipper kept vigilant watch out the front window, searching for any suspicious activity while also waiting anxiously for the return of Soos’s truck. He’d been sitting there for maybe fifteen minutes when the phone rang. It rang two more times, and Stan made no move to answer it. Dipper was unwilling to leave his post himself, but Stan was just watching old reruns of Baby Fights!

“Uh, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper called out after the fourth ring. Maybe he’d turned down his hearing aide?

“I hear it kid.” Stan grunted.

“Well, aren’t you going to get it!?”

“It’s probably just that triangular jerk, tryin’ to distract us. And if not, whoever it is can just leave a message.”

“But what if it’s Mabel or Soos?”

Dipper was distracted from his complaining when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A car was coming down the dirt road towards the Mystery Shack. The boy seriously doubted the rescue mission would be back already.

Stan got up with a grunt from his chair to see what had caught Dipper’s attention. “There, see? What’d I tell ya? Wouldn’t’ve noticed whoever this yahoo is if you’d been trying to listen in on me while I was on the phone. When you know somebody’s after ya, you gotta keep distractions to a minimum.”

“You were just watching TV!” the boy gestured back to the flickering CRT.

“Eh, it’s a rerun, I’m not really payin’ attention to it, just need something to calm my nerves.”

The mystery car drove out of the trees. It wasn’t a car at all, it was a limo. One Dipper recognized from the Northwest’s fleet.

“Well, this ain’t gonna be good.” Stan grimace.

“M-maybe it’s just Pacifica coming to ask for help again?” The boy said hopefully, although his heart wasn’t really in it.

Sure enough, the Northwest stepping out of the limo was Preston. He looked around like everything about the Shack was a personal insult to him before stepping up to the door and knocking with a gloved hand.

Stan grabbed the taxidermied fake dodo sitting on a small table in the corner and reached under its wing, pulling out a small handgun, which he held behind his back as he opened the door. Dipper wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the fact that his uncle was answering the door with a loaded gun in his hand. Sure, they were all in danger from Bill at the moment, but he really didn’t want Stan to go to jail for shooting one of the most important people in Gravity Falls, even if Preston probably deserved it.

“Whaddya want?” Stan asked gruffly.

Preston’s small, forced smile seemed painful. “Aheh, yes, well, I suppose I’ll get right to the point then. I’m here to purchase your… I suppose this qualifies as a business on some level? My opening offer is two million dollars for the building and the land it occupies.”

“Hah! Yeah, right!” Stan barked. “I wouldn’t sell this place to a scumbag like you for twenty million!”

“Well, how about fifty million?” Preston asked coolly.

Stan froze, his eyes wide. He stared the billionaire down, trying to decide if he was bluffing. It sure didn’t seem like a bluff to Dipper. The boy knew the Northwests threw that kind of money around like it was nothing, because to them, it was.

“Not for a hundred million.” Stan said, although it was less of a defiant denial and more of a fishing offer, trying to gauge how high Preston was willing to go.

“How about a hundred and fifty million?” Preston offered.

“Higher.” Stan shook his head.

“Grunkle Stan!?” Dipper cried indignantly.

“Ah-ah!” Stan pushed him back without even turning to look. “Not now kid, the grownups are talking.”

“Two hundred million?” Preston asked, his cool smile starting to slip.

Stan shook his head. “Uh-uh. Higher.”

“Three hundred million?” Mr. Northwest ventured again through clenched teeth.

“Higher!”

“F-five hundred million?” 

“I’m thinking twice that much.”

“Seriously!?” Preston finally exploded. “You want a billion dollars for this--this hovel!?”

“Y’know what, you’re right.” Stan shook his head. “I’m not askin’ enough. Two billion!”

The Northwest patriarch looked like he very much wanted to strangle Stan.

“C’mon Northwest, I know you’re good for it!” Stan smirked.

“Absolutely not! Seven hundred and fifty million, and that’s my final offer!”

“Welp, my final offer’s still two billion, so you can either pony up or get off my porch.”

“....Fine.” Preston hissed, the veins in his forehead popping.

Stan stuck out his hand for Preston to shake, but as soon as the billionaire reached for it, the conman yanked it away.

“Psych!” Stan chortled. “Hah! I just wanted to see how far I could go before you chickened out! You couldn’t give me your whole dirty fortune for this place!”

It took Preston a moment to regain his composure. “I beg you to reconsider, Mr. Pines.” He said with a dangerous edge to his voice. “Take it from someone in the real estate business, property can lose value so quickly.”

“Yeah, the answer’s still no.” Stan said flatly. “Now get outta here. Don’t think I won’t call the cops!”

“I’m afraid you’ll find they’re busy at the moment. I just made a rather large donation so they’re holding a banquet. Even if you could pry them away from it, I doubt they’d be willing to arrest the man that just doubled their salary.”

“Oh, well, if you’re so sure the cops won’t be coming.” Stan pulled the gun out from behind his back.

Mr. Northwest finally backed off, although he shared a long glare with Stan before getting back into his limo. “This isn’t over, Pines!”

“Tell it to someone who cares!” Stan shouted after him.

Dipper looked up at his uncle with awe as he shut the door. “Grunkle Stan, that was awesome!”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice you actually thought I was gonna take his offer.”

Dipper blushed and laughed sheepishly.

The old conman sighed as he sat back down in his recliner. “Eh, guess I can’t blame you. I was actually tempted for half a second. Then I remembered that guy’s a lying cheating crook, and he wasn’t gonna actually pay anything for this place. Still, two billion dollars, wouldn’t that be somethin’!”

“Grunkle Stan, no amount of money is worth the end of the world as we know it.” Dipper reminded him sharply.

“I know that!” Stan retorted, insulted. “I’m just sayin’, if I’d been able to trick him outta that much, heh, that would’ve been the con of a lifetime.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Dipper stammered, taking up his watch at the window again. “I shouldn’t doubt you. I’m just… I’m just really worried, y’know. Bill’s using more and more people to try and get at the rift. The Northwests are the most powerful people in town. You got him to leave for now, but he’s probably gonna hire thugs or something.”

“I know you’re worried, kid.” Stan said sadly. “I wish you didn’t have to worry about all this junk, but at the very least, you don’t gotta worry about this. I’ve had to hole up against hired thugs in this Shack before. ‘Course, this time I’m not gonna be able to fake my death to get ‘em to give up and go home.”

Dipper grimaced. This conversation wasn’t really reassuring him. 

Stan sighed again. “Look, bud, I know Bill’s got a lot of people in his pocket, but time’s on our side, right? Eventually, that glue you found is gonna set, and then what’s he gonna do? Besides, you and your sister are going home next weekend anyway, and then you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Dipper turned to look back at his uncle. “I’ll still worry about you. And Ford. And everyone else left here in Gravity Falls.”

Stan felt his heart swell when he realized how much the boy cared about him. It didn’t matter if he was safe, if his family was still in danger. Stan was all too familiar with that feeling, and he didn’t like the thought of this twelve-year-old kid being burdened with it.

“Well then, we’re just gonna have to figure something out then, aren’t we?”

[ckret2]

Anonymous said: If you’re not burnt out by IZ right now, how about a prompt about Zim in food service? could be during his banishment, could be on earth, could utilize that new FOODCOURTIA/SOLAR SYSTEM MALL info, or could just be anything else you come up with where he’s being his usual self, but also working with food. Hope this sounds fun!

As it happens, today I was writing a scene about Zim in food service for ISS, and it's low enough on spoilers that I can post it in full like a oneshot.

A few notes: 1. If you're not reading ISS, all you need to know to understand this scene is that Zim is working at Bloaty's because he keeps being absent from school. "That doesn't make any sense?" Yes. 2. If you're not reading ISS, feel free to assume that Zim is lying about every single thing he says, because within the context of a oneshot he might as well be. 3. All violently injured characters will recover from all their injuries with no complications, never fear.

This scene is hot off the presses, which here is a euphemism for "totally unproofed and probably riddled with autocorrect errors."

###

"What do you mean I can't pay by card?!"

"I mean you can't pay by card, sir," Zim said flatly.

The human pounded his fist on the counter. "Why won't you let me pay by card, huh?! WHY?!"

Zim gestured dramatically at the melted cash register and card reader between them.

"I've been a loyal customer for forty years!" He pounded on the counter another couple of times. "FORTY YEARS!"

Zim glanced at the wall calendar and then the wall plaque listing the date the business had been established. He was not surprised to learn that the building was, in fact, still twenty-two years old.

"Is this how you treat your loyal customers?! Huh? Huh? Huh? HUH?!"

Zim snapped on his best customer service smile. "My deepest and sincerest apologies, Valued Customer. I am but a poor foolish child laborer and did not realize you'd been a patron for longer than I've been alive. I would never have been so discourteous had I realized."

The human scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "Typical. Kids these days."

Zim gestured again at the melted equipment. "To make up for my grievous error, I humbly invite you to scan your own card on our fine Bloaty's Pizza Hog® currency-consumption equipment."

"Finally!" The human pulled out his card and leaned in. "Now, let's see here..."

While the customer was distracted, Zim ducked back into the kitchen. "Hey. Pizzasmith."

Weird Name looked up from his work—converting the now-broken electric pizza oven into a wood-fired oven with a pile of newspaper and lighter fluid—and pushed his headphones off one ear.

"That large pepperoni and bacon I just gave you the order for?"

Weird Name nodded and held up the paper with the order.

"Burn the pizza."

Weird Name gave Zim a thumbs up and put his headphones back on. Zim wondered what machine the headphones were plugged into that hadn't melted when every other machine in a ten block radius had. Maybe Weird Name just liked wearing dead headphones.

Zim returned to his post just in time for the customer to snap, "HEY! What's the big idea?"

Zim blinked innocently. "What do you mean, Valued Customer? I am but a minimum wage laborer and therefore incapable of big ideas."

The customer waved his card threateningly. "You made me pay by card, but your card machine's broken!"

"Oh dear. It seems I've made another inexcusable error. Surely I will be rightfully fired for this," said Zim, the most powerful employee in the building. "I am terribly sorry, Valued Customer. I should never have asked you to pay by card instead of cash."

"Hmph!" The customer thrust over a wad of dollar bills. Zim pried open the warped drawer on the melted cash register with a crowbar, deposited the cash, and offered the customer his change.

As the customer moved off to a table to wait for his pizza, the bell over the door rang. Zim looked over wearily, hoping it wasn't a family with kids, and held back a sigh when he saw something worse. Oh, Dib. At least his oversized cranium held enough brain cells to understand what "the card reader isn't working" meant, but Zim probably wouldn't be able to get rid of him for hours. Dib probably planned to camp out at the booth nearest the front counter, do his homework, and yell taunts at Zim. At least his sister was with him, she should keep him from starting a full-blown battle while Zim was on shift.

"Hey," he said flatly. "Card reader's down, cash only. If anyone else comes in and you're holding up the line to throw stupid dissection threats at me, I will destroy you."

Gaz leaned over the counter, seized Zim by the collar, and yanked him to her. He helped as he suddenly found himself suspended in mid air between Gaz's fist in his shirt and the edge of the counter digging into his hips. Zim quickly said, "It's just for tonight! I'm sure corporate will send a new card reader soon!" He was lying. He'd probably have to break into some corporate warehouse and steal a new card reader himself.

Gaz pointed at the melted cash register. "Is this your fault?"

"Eh?" Zim tried to turn around to look. "Oh, the melted machines! Oh yeah, heh. Yep. Another evil plot."

"So." Dib snacked a baseball bar in his hand. "You sent Dad to the hospital."

Zim stared blankly between Dib and Gaz. "Did I?"

Gaz jerked him the rest of the way off the counter. "His robot arms exploded because of you!"

With a shriek, Zim crashed to his knees at her feet, only held upright by her grip on his clothes. "I didn't mean to! It was an accident! The prototype was supposed to do something completely different, I wasn't trying to make every electronic in this part of town blow up!"

"But you did, Zim. You did." Gaz held out her hand. Dib smacked the handle of the bat into her palm.

"Wait! No! You can't hurt me!" He mentally groped around for a reason why. "I'm... I am... prrregnant? Yes! Ha!" He pointed at his abdomen. "Zim is incubating innocent life! That means you can't touch me!"

Gaz's wrathful glower deepened. "Is your face full of eggs?"

What did face eggs have to do with anything? "Ehhh... I don't think so, why?"

Gaz raised the bat.

She and Dib left twenty minutes later, eating a cheese pizza out of the box.

The other customer plodded up to where Zim was collapsed on the floor. "Hey." He knelt and gently shook Zim's shoulder. "Are you still alive, kid?"

Zim let out an affirmative moan.

"Good," the customer said. "My pizza's burned! I've never been so insulted! I've been a loyal customer for fifty years! I want a refund! I want to complain to your manager! I want a year of free pizzas!"

Zim burbled.

[hardyimagines]

Part 1 - Intruder

Hi could would you be interested in writing a Bane fic were he and one or two of his men need to hideout, and they come across this home kinda of hidden away or in an isolated area and a girl lives there on her own. He decides to keep her alive and eventually they fall for each other. I'd also like him to to be kinda mean and dominant. + She has to stay in main room with bane so he can make sure she doesn't escape😉 I'm sensing a smutty imagine. I like my bane a Dom with choking of course. I don't ask for much do I 🤣🤣

Part 2

———————————————————————

The mountains were tall, overlooking the lit city. Lights lined the buildings for the Christmas season, various shades of red and green. Trees twinkled with applied lights and music played in the distance, tempting people to come to their establishments and enjoy the holiday season. Bane straightened on the cliff. The jacket he wore was bulky with a line of fur, but it wasn’t doing much to protect him from the cold air that whipped around him and his men. Beneath his boots, pebbles and stones bounced from the impact of his shoe and rolled off the side of the ledge, falling down, down, down until they met the ground. It was probably a seventy foot drop. Bane wasn’t on the run. He was never on the run, he didn’t have to worry about someone overpowering him, but he did need a place to sleep at night and because his home had been invaded by the scum of the earth, he couldn’t exactly return there.

“Boss.” The shorter one of his men spoke up. His name was Oscar. “Don’t see no lights on.” He informed his leader. They needed a place to stay for the night, it didn’t matter if it was cold as well and didn’t have any source of heat, at least there would be a roof over their head. This had been the perfect spot. It was high, up out of most people’s eye line and it looked worn and abandoned. The exterior needed a lot of work done and the man was sure that the interior was just the same, but he didn’t care. Not tonight. Tonight, he just needed a bed. Bane’s boots hit the floor loudly as he made his way up the rest of the path and toward the front door. It was silent, not even the wind dared to whistle. He extended his arm, hand curling around the rusted handle before he twisted it. The wood opened without much force and creaked due to the rusted, stiff hinges. He rubbed his lips together before looking around the room. It was dusty and dark, impossible to see anything. He set his hand on the wall, tracing the soft wallpaper until his pointer finger skimmed the light switch. He flicked it on and froze at the sight.

The sink was lined with dirty dishes and it was void of a faucet. Ants raced along the countertop, no doubt fighting to get speckles and crumbs from the remaining food on the plates. Cabinets were opened here and there and the floor looked as if it were in desperate need of a deep cleansing. But Bane wasn’t fussy about any of that, no, he was a little more worried about the girl fast asleep at the kitchen table.

Your hair fell across the surface in messy waves. Despite the filthy home, you didn’t look anywhere near as bad as the place did. He squinted toward you, inspecting your features. You looked just fine. Oscar exchanged a look with Larry, Bane’s other helper, before looking back toward you. He figured this was just a bonus. They had a hostage, something to play with while they waited for morning. But bane had no intentions of harming you — scaring you, maybe, but only so you’d comply. They needed to stay here at least for the night, so they’d be doing that. Whether you said yes or not.

Bane’s thigh bumped the table on accident and the wooden legs wobbled threateningly. The motion startled your slumbering form and scared you even further when your eyes fluttered open. Glistening pools of curiosity and fear latched on to the bald man’s blue eyes. His lips twitched before dragging upwards. He pasted a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips and set his large palm down on the dirty table. A hostage wasn’t a part of the plan, but he was to expect the unexpected. Running his tongue over his lips, his mouth parted as he readied himself to speak, but your sudden movement ceased his words. The chair you were sat in groaned out noisily as the legs scraped along the tile. You rose up hurriedly, breaths deep and shallow, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly with your worried inhales and exhales. Bane watched you under a heated gaze. No fear danced in his orbs. Why would it? He wasn’t on his own. He didn’t have someone breaking in and waking him. You swallowed thickly, unable to get a single word of question or a believable threat out. Instead, you stood glued to the spot, fingers shaking as your body followed suit.

“Look at her, boss, she’s trembling.” Oscar spoke up. The man was smaller than the surrounding occupants of the room, but that didn’t stop him from being confident enough to approach. The black vest he wore matched his dark trousers. Around his waist, he had a holster and tucked away inside was no doubt a dangerous weapon. You quivered. The soles of your feet scraped the wooden floors as you backed up. He neared without hesitation. “Come here, darling, I don’t bite.”

Run. Your brain pleaded. Cry. Your mind screamed. Beg. Your brain warned. They were going to kill you. Why else were they here? The small bloke grabbed ahold of your wrist and twisted it painfully around your back. His strength didn’t match his stature so it took you by surprise. You weren’t a fighter though. You were quiet, kept to yourself. Obedient. Sweet. Gentle. Too pure for the pain and heartache that the world offered to the city below. That’s why you lived on your own in a dump. Nobody bothered you and you didn’t bother anybody — until now. Bane growled out softly.

“Easy.” He droned. The heavy thud of his boots was enough warning to silence the building cry in your throat. A painful tingle raced along the length of your arm, tearing at the nerves. “Let her go.” Bane demanded. Oscar did so without question. Your arm fell limply to your side. Rubbing the soreness to ease the pain would look weak and you knew that was the last thing that you needed to look right now. Bane crinkled his nose before stepping around the table and moving toward you. Fuzzy-minded and bleary-eyed from your sleep, you sniffled before looking toward him. “Do you speak?” He asked. It was then, as your brain began to register everything other than ‘intruders’, that you realized he wore a mask on his face. It embraced the lower half of him and created a loud hiss underneath his words. You had to strain your ears in order to comprehend him.

“Yes.” The tone of your voice was so soft. Soft enough to make bane want to take your tender throat in his palm and push you out the front door so you could be on your way. But that was too risky. He didn’t want the police showing up.

“Good.” He uttered. He didn’t look toward you further, he simply paced the length of the kitchen before coming to a stop at the counter. Photographs were laid out messily, some stained with unknown substances. He traced the corner of one with his finger before tonguing his cheek. “We need a place to stay.” He looked back toward you. “And we’ve chosen your house.”

“Lucky girl.” Larry chortled out. He sneered. A sickening smile resided on his lips and his eyes warned you to sleep with one eye open. Bane looked to Larry with a warning glare before moving his eyes back to you. Scaring you wasn’t going to do the trick. That was for when you disobeyed or acted like a brat. He inspected you closely. Faint freckles, gleaming hair, soft appearing skin and inviting eyes. He stepped toward you when you didn’t speak. What were you meant to say. ‘No’? A lot of good that would do you.

“It’ll just be for the night.” He assured you. There was no question in his tone. He wasn’t asking, he was telling. “Oscar and Larry.” He pointed toward the table. “Here’s your bed.” His eyes moved back to you. “And you, wherever your bed is, that’s my bed.” The fear in your eyes doubled, and the urge to grab a nearby knife was suffocatingly strong. But it would be so foolish. God knew what kind of weapon he had on him.

“I don’t..” Bane cocked a brow as you spoke up, testing you to deny him.

“Let me tell you something.” He stepped toward you. His hand lifted to your chin, fingers delicate as they traced your flesh. “It’ll do you no good to talk back or disagree. Comply and you’ll be alright.” He lowered his hand to the throat he’d wished to take ahold of earlier. “Bedroom.” He stated again. He felt your esophagus twitch beneath his palm as you swallowed. His grip wasn’t tight or hard so you drew back a step and swiftly stepped around him. He followed hot on your heels, blue eyes twinkling.

The living room was a wreck. Newspapers and old food sat in the place. Flies buzzed, flying from dish to dish to devour whatever was left behind and uneaten. Empty soda cans laid on their sides on the floor and coffee table and smoke poured from the fire place, a sign that the lit flame had died. You moved to the corridor and led him down the tan-painted hall to the bedroom at the end of the way. The door opened without so much as a creak. A bed resided in the center with a blue duvet. It wasn’t the biggest bed, but it would suffice. A window sat in the far right with a nearby vanity jammed pack with various knick-knacks. This was the cleanest room.

“It’s.. this is the only room.” You explained to him. “A.. apart from the bathroom which is just right there.” Pointing to the connected room which held a tub and a toilet, you folded your arms over your chest and slowly backed up.

“Itll do.” He told you quietly. He removed his weaponless holster and then his belt. Draping the accessories over the chair in the corner, he scratched the back of his head before looking toward you. “You can return to the dining room to sleep,” He ushered to the door with his pointer finger. “or stay here with me.” He licked his lips. “But you are to remain under someone’s watch at all times.” Your eyes flickered.

“You mean until morning?” Your question made bane frown.

“I mean.. until it’s safe to go.” His earlier words had been a brief comfort. Oscar and Larry were oblivious to the fact that they’d be hiding out here for a while. But Bane, he called they shots, so they wouldn’t complain. “You don’t get in my way and I won’t be in yours.” He pointed to the bed. “Now, you choose. Bed or table?” His hands moved along his stomach, rubbing the surface before he stepped toward the bed and climbed on to the comfy surface. You slowly followed after him. He didn’t seem to want to hurt you. Or touch you. But the other men.. you didnt trust them in the slightest. This one, you were sure, would’ve let them do as they pleaded and would’ve told you to ‘undress’ or ‘lay down’ if his intentions were to cause physical harm. But he didn’t. He laid down and shut his eyes. But you could tell he certainly wasn’t sleeping.

‘I don’t want to share a bed with you.’ ‘Get out.’ Stab him. Hit him. Run. Climb out the window. Scream as loud as possible. Your mind warned you to do this and that, urged you to get out and away, but you didn’t. Anxiety raced through your body and made you fidget. The quiet sound of your feet padding against the floor told Bane that you’d chosen to stay with him, and when the bed began to jiggle beneath your applied weight, it merely confirmed his initial assumption.

There wasn’t much space, but the two of you managed. He was slumped on his back and you were laid on your side, elbow folded beneath your head to act as an extra pillow. The duvet was crumpled beneath his body and the pillows were crookedly placed. You didn’t want to ask him to move though so you could curl up, so instead, you shivered at his side. So many questions filled your head. You wanted answers, but your throat was dry, tight, and it was impossible to get even a squeak of sound out. You squirmed slightly, legs accidentally skimming his own now and then. He didn’t say anything and you didn’t either. Little mumbled apologies were vacant and he didn’t offer to scoot over to give you more room.

He was so tired. He’d been on his feet all day. Bane knew it was rather foolish to fall asleep so quickly, leaving himself vulnerable to you, but there was no controlling the situation — and you, even if you had the courage to harm him, wouldn’t.

———

The embarrassment of the filthy home hit you in the morning. The sun was rising in the distance, it’s rays beginning to pour through open windows to wake the slumbering people, tucked away in their beds. You’d managed to leave the bedroom, undetected and had had about an hour to clean. The other two men who’d come along with the bald one in your bedroom were nowhere to be seen, so you’d taken advantage of their absence. The kitchen table was scrubbed clean and the dishes in the sink were halfway done. You knew it was foolish to worry about cleaning so the intruders didn’t find you repelling, but it was more than that. It was just the judgement that bothered you - it didn’t matter who it came from.

What a poor choice to leave the room without the man in the mask.

Their fingers were rough in your hair as they twisted and tugged, fighting over you. Your hipbones dug roughly into the counter you were learn against, Larry tugging you toward him as he shouted at Oscar. ‘I got first dibs, let her go’, he insisted. Oscar would then yank on you harder, bruising your scalp more so than Larry was. You winced. You pleaded. You moaned out. Internally, you begged for their boss to wake seeing as last night he didn’t seem like he was here to deal with any shenanigans. You moaned out again when Oscar lost his grip on your hair and your body was thrown into Larry’s. He didn’t have an amazing grip though either because the suddenness of your body against his made him topple over and to the floor.

Run. You did. Fool. To the bedroom. Why hadn’t you gone to the front door? Oscar was hot on your heels, sprinting along behind you to try and get to you before you could get to Bane. The door to your bedroom was thrown open roughly. The sound of it was enough to wake the man on the bed, but if it hadn’t of done it then your weight, slung on top of his own, would’ve. Bane woke with a straight face, but internally he was stunned. He sat up tiredly, eyes squinted and brows furrowed in confusion. He looked to you, curled up in a small ball at his side as a panting Oscar stood in the doorway with angry eyes and a fling of regret. And then revenge. You shifted, fearfully cowering away.

Bane sat up further, shielding you from the piercing gaze of Oscar.

“Out.” He ordered harshly. The man in the door obeyed. He twisted around and left the room without so much as an apology. The booming voices, belonging to Oscar and Larry were suddenly overlapping. Arguing. Fighting because they knew they were in trouble. Idiots. “Are you alright?” His question was dripping with concern, but it was genuine. He stood from the mattress, beginning to re-dress in the attire he’d removed the previous night.

“Your men..” You started before falling silent. This wouldn’t help. He was aware of what happened. He didn’t need a play-by-play. “I’m fine.” You whispered out. He nodded. Bane didn’t have time for this. Trouble was following and because he wasn’t a runner, he was a confronter, he needed to know what was happening at all times. Having to go down the hall and shout at grown men for trying to mess around with a younger, female hostage — it just pissed him off. It didn’t help in the slightest, it just slowed him down. He zipped the vest up before leaving the room to handle what has woken him. You curled up on your side and buried your face into your pillow before letting your eyes shut. Your fingers crossed slowly, a silent pray for the men in your dining room to leave today. What would you do if bane came back in and told you they had to stay for more time than he’d said last night. A day, okay. But any more than that.. you didn’t know what would happen.

It was then, in that moment that you realized you were on your own. You climbed off the bed hurriedly, bane’s words playing over and over in your head about how you would always be under someone’s watch. The doors to your closet opened with a loud creak. Your dainty fingers wrapped in a yellow blouse, yanking it out before you then grabbed a pair of jeans. Practically tearing your pajamas from your body, you struggled to move at a quick pace, clothing yourself in something much more appropriate before the return of Bane. And if you had time.. maybe you could get out the cracked window. It was only two stories high. Not too far of a jump. But the sudden sound of thudding boots in the hall made you freeze. Clad only in your underwear, blouse, and a pair of socks, you whimpered out in sudden anxiousness. The attempt to pull on your trousers while also watching the door was poor. Bane was seconds away from stumbling into the room to check on you and you.. well your jeans were only halfway on.

“Alright,” He spoke before he was even in the room. “I’m sorry about that, they’re both absolute idiots.” He continued to talk, his rough voice carrying down the length of the hall. “But you,” He turned the corner, just as you fastened the button on the front of your slacks. “are to tell me if they bother you again. I’ll ensure it doesn’t happen again.” It wasn’t going to anyway. Neither of them would even think about doing vile things to you after what he’d said to them. His tongue pushed against his cheek, hidden by the plastic mask on his face. “But, unfortunately for you,” He inhaled deeply, blue eyes locking on to your own as he stood in the doorway. “We are going to be here for at least a few more days.”

Your body ran hot. Skin on fire. Mouth run dry. The shiver that raced along your spine made you feel weak. No arguing, no complaining, no disagreeing. He wasn’t asking. He was telling. And all you could do was nod. You didn’t have a choice.

———————————————————————

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[blank-nova-trash]

Soldiers, chapter one- Today We Are Ghosts.

Five minutes. Just five minutes is all it took for a life time of pain and moral anguish to be subjected onto us in meer days. Moriarty was definitely part of it but why? How well did they know each other? Why target me, I'm her brother but not the one that locked her up throwing away the key yet, somehow she believes me responsible.

Sherlock sat in the dark, another night where the flames of the fireplace - the only source of light - kept him company as his own thoughts ate his head while he attempted to make sense of the events that still haunted his every breath. Although the fire burned it did not make him feel warm, although his armchair was comfortable as it had ever been his skin still crawled with unease. He sat and thought and thought and thought...going in circles in his mind palace retracing every event, every detail just in case by miracle or mistake he missed something - anything at all since the day he first heard the five pip tone from Moriarty. Of course every time he would slip into these thoughts it left him in the same place with the same questions bouncing off his skull, like a rubber ball against a prison wall. He could not remember the last time he laid eyes on his bed, or on anything that was not his own regret.

"Hello?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open at the sound only to land on a small girl with brown pigtails knees to her chest in front of the fire place, her voice so little echoed loud.

"Is anybody there? I'm alone and frightened."

His breathing became more heavy his eyes never left the girl but his mind took off at alarming speed.

"No it doesn't make sense" he whispered grogily the vibrations of his rusty throat aiding the deathly thumping in his head.

The girl stood making direct eye contact with sherlock but she wasn't looking in his eyes it was as if she was looking straight through him piercing his mind and soul, her body was motionless as she continued.

"I was only curious I didn't mean any harm I just wanted to see how everything ticked."

Sherlock stood in agitation "why involve him?" He threw his arms out to the side emphasis to his annoyance, body slightly shaking in tention, "she was perfectly capable of doing this herself why get Moriarty to play anyone could of been her outside eyes and ears" he was almost spitting his words at the little girl "context?" He spun around flailing his harms "to see how I worked?" He spun around again, walking to the window as he spoke "to see if I was a bastard? make it easier to kill me?" He cocked his head in amusement before taking in a shaky breath slowly turning to face the fireplace again.

"Because I couldn't save her..." he softly spoke it as more a statement than a question taking slow cautious steps toward where Mary now stood in place of the little girl "is it revenge?" His eyes dropped solemn and tears threatened to break free from his bloodshot eyes as an image of John flashed through his mind repeating "is it revenge?"

Footsteps creeked from the hall, instantly snapping him from all thought and he was suddenly in the present again. The fire almost burnt out, natural light from the outside lightly laying on top of the room as the footsteps came down the stairs, John. Sherlock fell back into his seat scrubbing his dry hands over his face a deep breath vibrating his chest. He pressed his hands together the stubble from his beard irritating his skin where they rested under his chin, he crossed his legs making a mask of stone peaceful on his face - something he often always wore - as if nothing happened. As if he wasn't slowly going out his mind with obsession and heartache.

Within moments John opened the door, walking in eyes purposefully glued to a newspaper from yesterday. His eyes flicked up to sherlock and around the full room, he made it a point shaking his head motioning to sherlock with the paper.

"Bloody unbelievable" he States in amused annoyance, moving toward the sofa.

Sherlock opened his eyes slightly looking at him, "what is?"

John flicks open the paper on the table to the last few pages bending over it from his seat continuing to read. "The paper"

Scrunching his eyes, sherlock turned in his chair to face John more clearly "you'll have to be more specific"

"People are actually romantacising the thought of world war three"

"People romanticize everything these days" sherlock replied, rolling his eyes, voice still croaky.

John still didn't look up from the paper as he turned another page "Yeh, well people are idiots." 

A small somewhat form of a smile slightly curved on sherlocks mouth "hey, that my line."

John looked up catching the rare view, quickly looking back down at the paper "oh no I'm mutating into a reptile"

Without missing a beat sherlock retorted "oh please you look nothing like my brother."

Looking uo again this time catching his gaze they laughed, ignoring the subtle strain awkward strain. They actually laughed for the first time in God knows when more than that they where actually laughing together.

Both noticing the fact, they relished in it however a small ping of hurt rested in both their chests because they also realised how long it's been since they sat in the same room and laughed without interacting with Rosey. They where still best friends John thought and that would never change but something felt missing like something between them had turned off and it was shocking to feel the light turn on again for a mere few moments. Perhaps this is progress to slowly building the bridge again, sherlock thought.

A smile lay on their lips although small it was there, sherlock wanted it to stay like this because it felt right to have John not fight him. "At least if you're a reptile it would cut our heating bills"

With another small chuckle John replied "well no one will have to worry about heating bills with the atomic radiation from the bombs"

"Quite so." Sherlock smiled and silence fell, it was an awkward silence not because they where uncomfortable but because for once they felt comfortable just sitting and talking about nothing at all for the first time in months, neither of them where worring about anything it was as if last night never happen and they where both okay again.

John coughed sitting back on the sofa, not quite finished with the paper that sat open on the table but his mind was wandering more to sherlock now, he looked at him his eye contact a bit more cold than he intended. He coughed again and softened his eyes. Sherlock felt anxious all of a sudden he felt the atmosphere change, he wondered what John was thinking. A few more moments of silence passed before John spoke.

"So you're up early"

"I was tending to Rosey. She made it quite clear she needed a new dyper."

"Ah I though I heard you talking to yourself"

Sherlock froze, how long had john really been awake or did he even sleep to begin with? Taking a breath he continued "well no, I was just lulling her."

"Ah it's just I thought she was with Mrs Hudson."

"No she's in her crib." Sherlock motioned his hand to the white crib by the sofa near the window

Sherlock was shocked he didn't think he was speaking that loudly was John purposefully listening to him? Why?

John got up to go look at his daughter, as he was looking at her he could feel sherlock looking at him with a inquisitive gaze. He knew he was lying saying he was putting her to sleep, cause he was talking about Moriarty. He may not be the best with emotions but he knew sherlock well and he knew that he was suffering although he thinks he hides it, he just wants sherlock to open up so he doesn't drive himself mad but there's no way to get him to open up without letting sherlock know he already knows... it would scare him away, thinking he's just hurting everyone, again.

He turned round to sherlock breaking him from thought.

"Tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

With a nod of his head he walked into the kitchen clicking the kettle on, arranging the mugs.

"You're up early yourself." Sherlock called through "something on the brain?"

"Nope" John shook his head

Sherlock paused for a minute anxious to ask "nightmare?" His voice a little quieter than before, he thought since they where talking now perhaps they could make some progress.

John let out an agitated sigh, thinking back to just a few hours ago when the night had imprisoned him. "No" his voice a lot firmer than before mind flashing with images. sherlock slowly regretting his choice to instigate the conversation however. "I just couldn't sleep" John faced him with warning eyes sherlock continued looking unphased but his heart was pumping anxiety.

"Don't lie to  me John I know when you're lying"

"I'm not lying, sherlock"

"You are wearing outdoor clothes which you haven't slept in but judging by the flattened crinckles at the back you have been sitting in one position for a long time not sleeping but those are fresh clothes, not from yesterday yet, I can smell your body oder you don't sweat unless exercising which you haven't cause you've been in  your room  all night which suggests vigorous sweating from night terror but you're clothes haven't been slept  inas I said.  So how could it of been  a night terror you ask? well simple you where wearing pyjamas and since it was too early to shower you just put on clean clothes there is slightly damp parts where your body continued to expel moisture in fright  as you calmed down."

John shoved his tea into his hand with a threateningly blank face as he said barely above a whisper "shut up"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John moved away quickly,  back to watch his sleeping daughter, not knowing what to do with his feelings of guilt and anger. Sherlock stared into his tea as various figures appeared before him sitting draped across John's chair.

"You are pathetic little brother look at you when have you ever not known what to say."

He glanced up eyes wandering over to Mary.

"You can't blame him he is hurting just as much as you, be strong"

"You should go about it more delicately, it's not fair to resurface such raw emotion all at once." Molly chipped in sherlock bit the inside of his lip

"Emotion. such funny little things, the cause of all your problems, cut your ties little brother."

"Don't let him slip away." Mary begged

"Perhaps it's already too late." Mycroft replied

"It's never too late as long as he is still here." Molly stated

"Yes he is still here but for how long do you think he will stick around he isn't a little puppy anymore he's started to bite the hand that feeds him." A new voice spoke from behind sherlock, but he didn't move. The figure moved in front of him, Moriarty. "You know he blames you right. He has every right to you know, it is all your fault." He lent over inches from Sherlock face hands either side of the chair

The little girl came out from behind him echoing the words "all your fault."

John turned round from the crib to take a drink of his tea when he noticed sherlock staring in concentration at the air. "What's wrong?" He asked a little too angry not wanting to actually talk but still caring enough to do so.

Sherlock startled from his trance with  a cough, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nothing" he breathed. John decided  to let it go and sipped his tea, sherlock doing the same he held the cup in front of him studying it "it's just... I much prefered the old mugs, had quite a liking to them." John set down his tea, gave Rosey a small kiss on her forehead as he stroked her little tuffs of hair, with a sigh he replied "yeh well  I liked  a lot of things before it all got blown apart"

Sherlock stayed quiet, not wanting  to worsen anything any further, John continued to sip his tea and adore his daughter while his thoughts scratched scars into his brain. Silence came down upon them however, this was much different from  the one before.

Sherlock bit the inside of his mouth, trying hard to ignore the prickling atmosphere, whereas John swimed in his thoughts unable to shake the memories of that fatal night nor the terrors that claimed him as he slept.

At first it started like any other dream- fighting in his war, getting shot but still carrying on through the gun fire to aid his fallen comrade but when he turns the body over its Mary bloody corpse, vastly decomposing in his arms. The gun fire doesn't stop till he screams out her name, when he looks up everyone he ever felt he let down surround him staring and pointing he turns around only to be faced by another gun held by sherlock, their eyes meet and then he pulls the trigger but the bullet goes through him hitting Mary and John turns back  to her as another shot rings and a body hits the ground their eyes meet again after her body dissolves into his but this time sherlock's are cold and vacant. John tries to scream out again but no sound will come. All of a sudden he feels like he is shrinking he keeps trying to shout out but no sound, then suddenly nothing else exists but blackness all around him only  to wake up in tremors and sweat.

John blinked out of his trance still looking down at his beautiful daughter a tear sliding  down his cheek, cautiously he wiped it away sniffing with  a deep breath. Turning around for his cup instinctively his eyes flicked up to sherlock who hadn't moved an inch since he snapped at him.

Pushing his guilt to the side he sipped his tea running  a hand through his hair, he really should get it cut. John felt bad for  how he had been treating sherlock the past while, he had been snapping more and more and not talking to him unless it's for Rosey. At first he thought everything was fine but after a few cases he slowly began to bend feeling he was going to snap. John knew it wasn't sherlock's fault, that he was being a selfish hypocrite not talking to him about how he felt but how was he supposed to? Mary was still a fresh wound, Rosey is a lot of responsibility and that's just the start of it all... he doesn't know how to heal and he knows that taking it out on sherlock won't solve anything but he also felt as though sherlock owed him something- so maybe Mary's death want his fault, but something was.

He didn't know what, but he knew it was something. The something that's been making his nightmares more frequent, the something that makes him not want to eat or leave the flat, the something that makes him too weak to be there a hundred percent for Rosey.

John is a good father, at least he hoped he was good enough. He wished he could be better, so he could do better for her. He sat back down on the sofa sitting his half empty cup down as he then continued to read the paper. Sherlock was sunken deep into his mind palace starting from the beginning his tea turning cold. Something had to come up, something he missed something that could fix everything- it just had to.

The fire burnt out completely now. The sun shon brighter, the normal people started to wake up and busy the streets. The two men dissolved into their own ends of the room giving up on normality and conversation for the rest of the day. The light broke again.

And they were not okay...again.

[foreverfamilyforevervongola]

🎃 Varia?

Newspapers were strewn over the majority of the kitchen floor, coveredin clumps of pumpkin seeds. Fran and Belphegor sat at the table, each withtheir own pumpkin. Belphegor carved out his jack o’lantern with expertprecision, his knife cutting smoothly through the hard exterior. Fran was alittle clumsier with his execution, his knife jerking in an uneven rhythm.Lussuria was at the marble island, idly drawing a face on his own pumpkin,silently musing when his Sun Flames would be needed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"The answer is obvious, dear," answered Lussuria.

Levi stared in bafflement at the scene before turning to the pile ofuntouched pumpkins stacked in the corner of the kitchen. "Boss is going tokill you. He hates Halloween."

"He hates Christmas too, yet we still get a tree."

"Carve one," ordered Belphegor, pausing in his work to pointhis dirty knife threateningly at Levi. "You're going to suck at it and Iwant to laugh."

"Shut up brat," growled Levi.

He was half-tempted to just walk away, but Belphegor had issued a silentchallenge and Levi was going to prove him wrong. Scowling, Levi stalked over tograb a medium-sized pumpkin and ignored Lussuria's amused gaze.

"Get your elbow out of my space," snapped Fran, pausing hispumpkin carving to glower at Belphegor, who was encroaching on his side of thetable.

"The prince is creating perfection and I can use as much as thedamn table as I want, commoner."

"I'm afraid to break this to you, but what you consider to be perfectionothers consider to be complete crap."

There was a thump as Belphegor shoved Fran off his chair and tothe floor. Fran was about to retaliate when Lussuria cleared his throat inwarning. Rolling his eyes, the boy remained on the floor, moving his pumpkin torest in front of him.

Mammon entered the kitchen a few minutes later, stilling at the sight offar too many pumpkins. Lifting his hood down, he glared at Lussuria. "Youbetter have grown those pumpkins yourself."

"Don't be silly. We don't have pumpkins in our garden."

"You're wasting money," hissed Mammon. "What compelledyou to buy a dozen pumpkins?"

"Fran wanted to carve a pumpkin and I couldn't find a reason to sayno."

"You don't need a reason to say no," said Mammonflatly.

"It's Halloween, Mammon-chan. Get into the spirit!"

"You know there's no talking to him, especially around this time ofyear," spoke up Levi.

"You're not exactly helping by encouraging him," returnedMammon.

"I've got a point to prove to the royal pain. I'll show him who cancarve a proper jack o’lantern."

"You can barely carve a turkey, so I'm not sure where thisconfidence is coming from," snickered Belphegor.

Levi responded by taking a handful of pumpkin goop and chucking it atBelphegor, who dodged the projectile. Lussuria swung his knife out of his ownpumpkin and aimed it at Levi. "Try it again," he threatened,"and you'll be cleaning this kitchen from top to bottom with a toothbrush."

"I'm cutting you off," grumbled Mammon.

"Just carve a stupid pumpkin," said Fran, levitating the fallvegetable over to the senior illusionist.

The pumpkins were probably going to end up smashed or thrown out by theend of Halloween, and the money was already spent. Figuring he might as wellmake some use of what he considered to be a wasteful purchase, Mammon merelyshook his head in resignation and went to grab a knife from the drawer.

Squalo strode into the kitchen ten minutes later, going straight to thefridge to retrieve a can of soda. He had just taken a sip when he turned,finally noticing the abundance of pumpkins around him. He nearly choked on his drinkin surprise.

"What the hell?"

"Why is that everyone's reaction?" wondered Fran, starting toscrape loose pieces of pumpkin away from his carefully carved design."It's Halloween. People carve pumpkins on Halloween."

"Yeah, one or two, not a damn dozen," returned Squalo."And since when does anyone other than Lussuria do anything festive aroundthe holidays?"

"I wanted to carve a pumpkin," replied Fran. "A guy can'tcarve a pumpkin in this house?"

"Not if those pumpkins cost over five dollars each," saidMammon moodily.

"Why couldn't you do this crap outside?"

"Are you crazy?" asked Belphegor. "It's cold out."

"What exactly are you going to do with these things?"

"Use some of them for target practice," said Fran. "Lusswants to put the jack o’lanterns outside the gate."

Squalo shot Lussuria a withering glare, and the Sun Varia smiledinnocently. "Just a few decorations, Squ-chan."

"That's what you always say, and somehow every year we get onesnot-nosed brat rattling the gates in search of candy," said Squalo withan annoyed scowl.

"Take a pumpkin and pretend it's Luss' head," said Mammon,giving his own pumpkin a harsh stab with his knife. "It's making me feelbetter."

After a moment of thought, Squalo shrugged and went to grab a pumpkin.It was probably a bad idea to encourage Lussuria by engaging in this Halloweenactivity, but there was something satisfying about plunging a knife through thepumpkin's tough exterior.

Up in his office, Xanxus awoke from his nap, sensing that something wasnot quite right. Crimson eyes narrowing, he listened intently, and realizedthat it was silent. No shouting, no swearing, no screaming, and no fighting.There was complete silence, a rare occurrence in his house.

He stood and went to investigate. He went downstairs and roamed thefirst-floor landing, growing suspicious when he couldn't find any of his menwith each room he checked. He came upon the kitchen and paused in the doorway,eyebrows flying upwards.

"What the eff?"

Wiping excess pumpkin goop from his pumpkin, Mammon replied, "It'sLussuria's fault."

"Fran-chan wanted to carve a pumpkin," explained Lussuria."And of course that meant Bel-chan wanted one as well."

Xanxus swept his gaze over the pumpkins. "You bought a dozenpumpkins for two brats?"

"I bought more in case anyone else wanted to join, and it's a goodthing I did."

"What are you going to do with them?" asked Xanxussuspiciously.

"He's going to put them outside," said Squalo with a smirk.

Xanxus removed his gun and fired one Flame-infused bullet into Lussuria'spumpkin, causing it to explode in hard chunks. Lussuria stared at his mangledpumpkin and gave a sigh. "It's a shame no one has any appreciation for theholidays."

"I appreciate when they happen away from me," drawled Xanxus."You are not soiling my lawn with this crap."

Fran set down his knife and spun his pumpkin around, revealing a jaggedoutline of an ugly goblin with a lumpy head and a large nose. "It's theexact likeness of Bel-senpai, don't you think?"

"You stupid frog—"

Fran shifted to the other side of the kitchen, sitting against theisland and away from Belphegor's immediate vicinity. "I know it’s a hardtruth but it's best to accept it."

Belphegor sneered and showed his own design, a zombie's face with severegashes dripping with pumpkin goop. "This is going to be you when I'mfinished. Oi, Old Man, let's see yours."

Levi held up his pumpkin, which depicted a saggy face with a gaped-toothgrin and a broken crown. "It's you. But I think Fran's is moreaccurate."

"I hate you."

Squalo's pumpkin was covered in slashes. When Lussuria sent him aquestioning look, he said, "I pretended this pumpkin was all of yourheads. It was therapeutic."

Rolling his eyes, Xanxus glanced at Fran and said, "This is yourfault."

"I apologize for my fleeting desire for a smidgen of normalcy. Itwon't happen again. Carve a pumpkin. Apparently its therapeutic and you couldseriously use some therapy."

"You know what that pumpkin of yours and you have in common?"

"Stop."

Xanxus knocked off his frog hood and stuck the pumpkin over Fran's head."You both have no brains," he said, and smirked at the kid's indignantsquawk.

[trollbreak]

Ah self destructive impulses that r hard to ignore, it’s been a while. I didn’t miss you. Please go away again