#tw: gun use

[holidayinhell]

CWs: threats of noncon, gunplay

“Put your hands up, you piece of shit.”

“Now Whumpee--”

“Quiet.” Whumpee snapped. “I’m not fucking around.” 

Whumper took a step back, breaking his usual pattern of intimidation. He raised a brow inquisitively, his lips twitching to form an amused grin.

“Put your fucking hands up.” Whumpee repeated forcefully.

“Riiight…”

“Do it.” His grip tightened around the handle of the gun. “I'm not afraid to shoot you.”

“Really. You’re gonna kill me, Whumpee-boy?” The tall man half-chuckled. “That’ll be the day.”

The metallic click of the revolver’s hammer echoed in response.

Point taken.

“Ugh. You’re no fun.” Reluctantly, Whumper heeded Whumpee’s warning, sighing as he removed his hands from his oversized hoodie pocket, slowly lifting them above his head. For the first time during Whumpee’s captivity, his cruel smirk faltered.

“Give a coward a gun and suddenly they think they’re invincible.” The tall man grumbled under his breath. There was no way Whumpee would actually shoot him. He didn’t have the balls.

“Just shut up.”

“Ooh, scary.” Whumper taunted. He reeled his head back and spat in Whumpee’s direction, the wet splat landing only inches from the other's bare feet. 

Whumpee’s eyes flicked up to meet Whumper’s, blazing furiously.

He inched closer to Whumper with careful, measured steps, keeping the barrel of the gun leveled steadily at the monster's chest. 

“Woah woah woah. Easy tiger.” Whumper said playfully. He maintained the intense eye contact as he slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, palms facing out in a mock display of submission. 

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” He chuckled, tucking his hands back into the oversized hoodie pocket.

“This isn’t a joke.” Whumpee warned. “Put your fucking hands up, or I’ll make you.” 

“Naw.” The tall man said, drinking in Whumpee’s increasing agitation. His sadistic eyes glinted with challenge. “Guess you’ll have to make me.”

“I’ll end you right now. I mean it. Nothing would make me happier than watching you bleed out.” Whumpee clenched his jaw. “Killing you would be the easy route, though. Death is too good for you. It's not even a fraction of what you deserve. So for the last goddamn time, fucking listen to me.”

“Fucking listen to me,” Whumper repeated sarcastically, voice dripping with contempt. “You really know how to demand respect, Whumpee. I’m confused, are you gonna shoot me, or are ya gonna torture me? 'Cuz you’ve got me absolutely shitting my pants over here.”

Whumpee felt a surge of adrenaline, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on him as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“How ‘bout this, you trigger-happy little cunt,” Whumper said wickedly. “Give me the gun now, and I won’t fuck you with it later.”

The threat made Whumpee’s blood boil. 

That’s it. Time for Whumper to die. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Whumpee took a step forward and planted the muzzle of the gun against Whumper’s temple. He squeezed the trigger. 

The hammer flicked forward, eliciting an empty click.

The gun didn’t fire.

Time froze. 

The dull sound echoed in the silence. 

Whumpee couldn’t hear anything other than his heart thundering in his chest. 

His wide eyes darted down to the revolver, disbelief written across his face. Panic flooded in.

A wide grin spread across Whumper’s chin as he removed a hand from his pocket. Six golden bullets rolled in the palm of his hand, glinting in the light. Whumper pinched one between his fingers, turning it over as he marveled at it.

“Surprised?”

With a flick of his wrist, he released the remaining five bullets from his palm. They cascaded to the concrete floor with five distinct clangs.

“If you’re gonna shoot someone, you might want to make sure the fucking gun is loaded.”

Whumpee froze in disbelief.

How could he have been so stupid?

He didn’t react when Whumper lunged at him, twisting the gun from his sweaty hands. He didn’t fight back when the cold metal smacked against his temple, heavy and sharp, sending him hurtling into the concrete, cracking his skull into the ground.

Everything went black. A trickle of blood flowed down his cheek.

Whumper towered over him, a victorious grin plastered across his face.

"I enjoyed your game, Whumpee. Let's play another."

He loaded the single bullet into the revolver, clicking the cylinder closed.

“You ever play Russian Roulette?”

((more Whump oneshots))

[revehae]

monster

pairing ↠ johnny x you (ft. yuta)

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, choking, use of a gun

summary ↠ with news of a series of local deadly burglaries going around, you’re terrified of being the latest victim, but it’s the fault of your own disobedient nature that subjects you to a more potent kind of danger.

wc ↠ 3.0k

a/n ↠ this is a repost!

don’t like it, don’t read.

breaking: following a series of home invasions in the area, police recommend locals lock their doors.

for the past couple of weeks, the local news channel had mimicked a similar kind of warning. during the span of those weeks, nine burglaries had occurred; two involving death.

you were hoping you wouldn’t be the third. 

authorities reported that the culprit only entered homes with the intention of theft, and only when the occupants became an obstacle were they murdered. as if that was supposed to be relieving. you were no more in favor of being robbed than you were being killed, but you knew which one would be worse.

to make matters worse, that criminal was a damn good one. nine successful home invasions - some even in the same neighborhood - and all the police had on him was a poor quality CCTV footage image of the man in a mask. either he was an excellent thief, or the police were terrible.

lock your doors, they said. as if those innocent people hadn’t kept their doors locked. what use was it when the burglar knew how to pick locks and avoid homes with security? you might as well have left your doors and windows wide open, offered to him your belongings - and your lives - on a silver platter. 

“don’t be silly, babe,” said your friend yuta over the phone. he was assuring you that nothing would happen to you, or at least trying to. “everything’s gonna be fine. you should stay at taeyong’s tonight though just to be safe - you know he’s got good security.”

you bit your lip. it was a great idea. you had to give credit where credit was due; the thief, whoever he was, was meticulous, steering clear of houses where security was present. with multiple of the invasions taking place in the same neighborhoods it was almost like a taunt to the police. “i’ll talk to him,” you said. and much like some of your other neighbors, you made a note to yourself to invest in a home security system.

“don’t be a disobedient soul,” he drawled teasingly. given your tendency to rebel, the nickname was bestowed upon you by your group of friends. 

you rolled your eyes. “i’ll talk to him!”

“good. call me, okay?” yuta told you, and you nodded as if he could see you, a habit you had yet to break. 

“you just nodded, didn’t you?”

“shut up,” you said lightheartedly, giggling bashfully. 

yuta laughed, but positively didn’t stay around to tease you. “talk to you later.”

“buh-bye.”

the call cut and your phone hit the coffee table. you never winded up calling taeyong. you didn’t intend to lie to yuta, but you had already spent the night at taeyong’s - and some of your other friend’s and family with better security than you - too many times before and you didn’t like the feeling it gave you to depend on them so constantly. of course, it was better to be safe than sorry, but one night on your own wouldn’t hurt. 

besides, if someone broke in, you doubted they’d head for your bedroom. you’d just pretend to be asleep and pray it was all over soon.

spoiler alert: that was not what happened.

in the middle of the night you roused from your slumber in pursuit of one thing; water. but upon glancing over to your nightstand, you noticed your glass was empty. 

you almost didn’t move, almost forced yourself to fall right back asleep and not dare move a muscle. but awake, your mouth became dry at the possibilities of what could happen to you and anyone that knew you.

i’ll only be a second, you assured yourself, rushing into the kitchen. nothing’ll happen. everything will be fine.

it all happened so fast. 

a brimming glass of water in your hand, you twisted your body towards the direction of your bedroom yet only made it one step before you heard a noise. never had you paused dead in your tracks so quickly. the noise became clear to you - the sound of your front doorknob. 

you wanted to believe that you were simply so paranoid to the extent of making up sounds in your head, and frankly you had before, but this was different; this was real.

like a bolt of lightning, you struck behind the counter, accidentally spilling water onto the floor, but that was the least of your concerns. you ducked behind the island, pressing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. regret plagued your heart as now, more than ever, you wished that you would have listened to yuta. you forgot to even call him back, and now there was no telling if you ever would.

the noise didn’t last very long, merely seconds before it turned into that of the front door being opened and shut, followed by footsteps. part of you wanted to peek, though aside from it being awfully risky, you were too stunned to move. your heartbeat throbbed in your ears and you could feel it hammering in your chest against your knees.

so much for locking your doors. you were going to hold your middle finger to the police in a big ‘fuck you’ after this was over - if you made it out alive, that was.

those heavy, unnerving footsteps were the sole noise to cut through the ear-splitting silence. they headed somewhere down the hall and you heaved a big sigh of relief, then drew another in as if that was all the oxygen that the world had left to spare. somehow you were breathing so fast yet not at all. 

in your brief, short-lived fit of relief, your body went slack, and your knee ultimately knocked over the glass that you had forgotten was there. instantly your muscles tensed again, and your fit of relief turned into an outbreak of fear. 

“fuck,” you whispered to yourself and bit your lip. the footsteps returned merely seconds later and you immediately tried to regulate your breath in an effort to remain silent as possible. you prayed to the above that your life wasn’t over.

louder, the footsteps got. quicker. and louder, and quicker, and quicker, and louder. tears began to well from your eyes as terror and your regrets overcame you. you should’ve did this, you should’ve did that. and now that you hadn’t, the price was yours to pay.

all of a sudden, the footsteps paused, and somehow that was more unnerving than the sound of constant moving. you were tucked into yourself, doing your best to be still yet not fully conscious of the fact you were shivering with fear. please, the tiny voice in your head begged for mercy. 

and then, the footsteps continued again. and your heart sank when you saw a shadow from around the island close in on you, until another, masked figure crouched down before you. 

it was when you saw the gun tucked to his side that you lost all hope. it was over.

“found you,” said the masked man through a semi-muffled voice, his tone lighthearted. the vast majority of his face was concealed, though if it weren’t, you would have noticed the smile creep across his face as he saw every ounce of faith in your body instantly die.

found you, he had said in a teasing tone, as if this were hide and seek. maybe that’s all this was to him; a really big, really unfair game.

you said nothing. you were too shocked and far too scared to move a muscle, including your tongue.

“this little hiding spot of yours would have been wonderful,” the stranger began.  “if it weren’t for the mess you’ve made in here.”

the water you spilled earlier. and the pieces of glass that had fallen before you. you hadn’t even noticed that it shattered.

“you should’ve listened to yuta, sweetheart. he told me that you were staying at taeyong’s tonight. i had my suspicions when i saw your car parked outside, but you really are a disobedient soul, aren’t you?”

your heart stilled. only your friends knew about that nickname. and that didn’t explain how he knew yuta, much less what you discussed on a personal phone call. a jarring question emerged in your head. 

with fear heavy in your heart, you whispered, “how did you…?”

the stranger removed his mask; and suddenly he wasn’t such a stranger anymore.

you almost fainted in shock. “johnny?”

johnny flashed you a grin. “that’s my name; don’t wear it out.”

too many emotions plagued your chest and you never would’ve imagined that it would be possible to feel so many things at once. the fear, the dread. the anguish, the betrayal. it was overwhelming.

johnny and you had never been particularly close, though he was in a very specific circle of friends. you met him through yuta, much like everyone else in your friend group did, and whoever yuta trusted, so did you. you were thick as thieves. 

or so you thought. it seemed that in reality, he and johnny were (quite literally) thick as thieves. you couldn’t fathom why yuta would betray you after all you’d been through together.

you shook your head in denial, balking. maybe this was just a nightmare, just a really, really bad dream that you had yet to wake up from.

“you gotta go now,” johnny crooned. then he clawed at you with his large, heavy hands, and begin to drag you out of the kitchen. 

you tried to resist, but he was too strong. it was like fighting with a brick wall. he dragged you into your living room, and when you fell against the floor, you half-expected him to pull out his gun and finish you there, but he didn’t - instead he wrapped his hands around your throat. they were cold against your neck, like a corpse. out of natural instinct, your fingers tried to pry at his hands in an effort to pull him away, but to no avail. it was pointless to try and fight against him, he was larger and stronger and everything in between. you were simply no match for a man like johnny.

and he merely watched. he hovered above you, hands firm around your throat, and watched your trembling hands fall to your side, watched you struggle to speak coherently as you fought for breath, all while his eyes stared into yours and watched the life drain from them. and you were certain that you were on the verge of meeting your end.

but, when you were at the very brink of unconsciousness, he let go.

your chest heaved in pursuit of sucking in as much air as possible, trying to recover from near unconsciousness. he didn’t kill you - at least, not yet. you wanted to be relieved, but you were only confused.

“on second thought,” he whispered, leaning in ever so slightly. “i think i’m gonna keep you. i like the look in your eyes.”

not just the look of fear, but the look of hope and life bleeding from your irises. he liked the power your fear gave him; how he was in control of whether you lived or died, releasing you from his chokehold at the very verge of unconsciousness.

he would be lying dead to your face if he said that it hadn’t gotten him off, if he told you that he hadn’t been tempted to make you his for a while. in return, you had a slight crush on johnny, but it didn’t go anywhere and it sure as hell wouldn’t now that you had been exposed to who he really was.

you were even more confused when johnny slung you over his broad shoulders like you weighed nothing and began to carry you in the direction of your bedroom. your cries of protest went through one ear and out the other, rendering you completely powerless. 

he plopped you down unceremoniously against your sheets and leapt at you hungrily. your pulse sped with alarm when you felt him tug at the band of your underwear, and in spite of your prior futile attempts, you tried to pry him away from you, begging him to stop. 

up until now, johnny’s tone had been lighthearted and taunting, but he switched on a dime when he pulled out his gun and you felt cool metal flush against your temple. “say another word. i fucking dare you,” johnny warned. 

you gulped back every word, effectively silenced. once johnny was certain that you were startled into compliance, he put the gun away and resumed his actions. warm, regretful tears stung your eyes as you lied there helplessly. you closed your eyes, refusing to watch him in fear of the memory being perpetually etched behind your eyelids. 

impatiently, he ripped the fabric off your thighs, venting your bare flesh to the cool air. you shivered, autumn making your skin crawl. the gleam in johnny’s eyes was not lost on you, heavy with lust and nothing but. he had wanted nothing but to destroy you, and ultimately nothing would come in his way. not even yuta. 

“this is all your fault, y’know,” johnny said, smiling at you sinisterly. his teeth clamped into your thigh out of no where, and instead of your eyes wincing shut, they shot open in surprise. johnny snickered and shredded both of you of what remained of your clothes. “all you had to do was listen, baby girl. look where being a little brat gets you.” 

you said and did nothing. you had practically tuned him out, more or less out of preservation for yourself. otherwise, you might have gone insane. but there was no haven for you - no safe place. inward or outward. outside of your body, johnny had full control, but inside, there were plenty of other monsters roaming around in your brain, occupying it with terrifying thoughts. there was nowhere for you to hide. 

johnny was hard - most likely from watching you trembling in fear alone - and used his saliva as a lubricant. you still hissed when he began to thrust inside you, not at all considerably. rivulets of tears bundled together on your cheeks and you clamped your nails into his biceps, trying to anchor yourself on something. your fingernails drew long, irritably red lines on his arms, but he didn’t mind the sting. to johnny, there was no pleasure without pain. 

when your cunt had swallowed him completely, you whimpered, “it’s too big.” 

johnny wiped at the tears on your cheeks and whispered, “you poor thing.” he didn’t do much else. in his mind, you deserved this. you never listened to anyone but yourself, and this was an apt punishment. 

“should we give yuta a call?” johnny asked, noticing your phone lying at your nightstand. if he was being honest, you were a little airheaded. at very least, it would have been smart to bring your phone with you when you ventured out into the kitchen, but of course you didn’t. it was almost like you wanted him to find you, completely defenseless. “i’m sure he would love to hear about this.”

you blinked when he mentioned yuta. you hadn’t called him back earlier, like you were supposed to, but now you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to speak to him again. not after you had learned that he was more or less an accomplice in this mess, no matter how much he tried to protect you. you felt so betrayed and broken. 

though you shook your head, it seemed like you were getting a taste of how it felt to not be listened to, because johnny picked up your phone and forced you to unlock it, then scrolled to yuta’s contact himself and put the phone on speaker. 

yuta picked up after a couple of rings, and skipped the greetings to say, “y/n, what the hell? are you okay?” 

“she’s perfectly fine,” johnny answered for you, though one look at you could obviously show that you were anything but. 

yuta heard his partner’s voice and instantly knew you were in trouble. he exclaimed, “johnny, what the fuck did you do?”

“nothing you wouldn’t want to do yourself,” johnny sang without a care in the world. you watched him silently, face tensing. the emotion that plagued your chest and the thoughts to your mind wouldn’t allow you to speak. “you should feel her yourself. she’s so goddamn tight. it’ll take both of us to loosen her up.”

“i thought i told you to leave her alone,” yuta growled. much to your surprise. maybe he was innocent, but he wasn’t that innocent. he knew half of what johnny was up to all along - he could have done more to protect you from someone he was full aware was dangerous. 

johnny countered, “and i thought i told you no promises.” then, he leaned lower, clamping his teeth into your shoulder to stifle a moan. consequently, you let out a whimper. “don’t act like a saint, my friend. you know you want this just as bad.”

you blinked through your tears. that was news to you. yuta was heavily flirtatious, as were you, but it never went anywhere and you figured it meant nothing. your ears were attentive, waiting to find something in his response to redeem him before he was beyond reclaim. as unforgivable as everything else he had done was, you didn’t want to consider that it was possible for yuta to even want to do anything similar to you.

you heard rushing and fumbling in the background and yuta’s voice said, “y/n, can you hear me? i’m so fucking sorry. i’m on the way.”

johnny simply rammed his hips into you harder, making you squeal from the impact. you closed your eyes and leveled your breath. it was too late for you. johnny was already having as much fun with you as he wanted. 

“yuta’s not gonna save you, baby,” johnny sang to you directly. he did what he pleased, not caring what anyone had to say about it. that was the johnny you knew and had always known. “nobody can.”

[hawkbutt]

"Rule of the wasteland, thou shall get sidetracked by bullshit every god damn time" - The Ghoul

Evan "Buck" Buckley, Vault dweller from the 118, seasoned by the wasteland, and his companion, BoS Knight turned Mercenary Eddie Diaz

[schrijverr]

How to Survive Gotham as a Goon

Late one evening, a goon is there to witness his boss – Red Hood – shoot at Robin. Which means he goes through the five stages of grief as he imagines all the ways Batman will skin them, trying to get Red Hood to stop before it’s too late, which only leaves him with more questions.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: references to violence & gun shots

~~~~

Joseph does not want to die. He especially does not want to die at the hands of Batman. It might seem unlikely that that will ever happen, even if Joseph is a henchman, however watching his boss whip out a gun to shoot at Robin, he knows it might only be a matter of time.

It’s kind of the unspoken rule of the goon and henchpeople underworld to not hurt the kid in a way that’s permanent. While the big villains don’t keep to that rule, Joseph had hoped that Red Hood, with all his rules surrounding children, would be different.

However, all that hope is snuffed out when the two of them are taking a smoke break and Hood spots the kid on a warehouse across from their own.

Joseph is immediately on guard as he goes to scan around for the Batman, despite knowing it’s quite useless. But Hood stiffens in anger and screams: “You!” as points at Robin.

The giggle Robin lets out is heard easily as it echoes across the yard. It sends shivers down Joseph’s spine. He knows Robin is just a kid, but all goons and henchpeople have learned to fear the sound of that laugh and it isn’t any less intimidating when he can see the kid giving them a jaunty wave.

Hood’s street instincts must be broken, though, because he doesn’t do any of the things you’re supposed to, instead scrambling for his gun. Joseph is so in shock that he doesn’t even stop him when the first few shots ring out.

Across from them, Robin back flips away from where he was just sat, thankfully not getting hit by any of the bullets.

Robin starts to run and Hood follows him with a spray of bullets, yeering loudly: “Yeah, fucker, ya better run! Ya better fuckin’ run! If ya ever pull tha’ shit again, I’m killin’ you. Killin’ you! Ya hear me?”

Joseph gathers his senses and against the better instinct of keeping his boss on his side, jumps Hood, pushing his gun away as he exclaims: “Are you crazy!?” while Robin disappears over the rooftops.

Hood pushes him off and Joseph lets him, though he likely couldn’t have stopped Hood even if he wanted to, the man is built like a brick house. “What’re you onnabout?” Hood frowns, like he truly doesn’t realize who he just shot at.

“You shootin’ at Robin,” Joseph exclaims. “Do you have any idea the kind of carnage ya would’ve brought down on us if ya’d hit ‘im?”

“What?” Hood asks, sounding truly confused and a little taken aback.

“Do you really not know? By your accent I would’ve sworn ya were from ‘round these parts,” Joseph replies, more confused than normal by his enigma of a boss.

“Well, I’ve been outta the loop for a bit,” Hood grouches. “Explain.”

“I mean, most of the big fish don’t keep to it, but it’s common knowledge to not hurt Robin too bad unless ya want the big Bat to rock your shit,” Joseph explains. “I was already in the henchin’ business when the little guy first hit the street. Course we were all wary of ‘im but what ya gonna do? Fight a little kid?”

Hood lets out a bitter snort, commenting: “Yeah, who’d do that.”

Joseph isn’t sure where that comes from and hesitates for a second, then cautiously goes on: “But the kid was good, better than any of us thought. Fuckin’ embarrassing tha’ was. So we started fighin’ back a little, ya know. Actually punching the kid here and there. It was Jimmy who first truly hurt the kid.”

“Wait, Vegetable Jim?” Hood asks.

“Yeah, isn’t a vegetable anymore. Sonnabitch’s damn lucky that Wayne Enterprises offers compensation for those hurt while working, including hench work,” Joseph laughs a little bashful and awkward. “He clipped the kid with a baseball bat, broke his arm. God, I never heard a kid wail like that,” Joseph grimaces at the memory. “What’s worse is that the kid called for his dad. His dad.”

“Wait, tell me more,” Hood asks, sounding gleeful now, which weirds Joseph out a little. “Like was it super pathetic? Did he really just break his arm, nothing more?”

“No, nothin’ more, just the arm,” Joseph answers carefully. “And ya know how kids can get, it was piercin’ and whinin’. Why’d ya wanna know? Poor fella did nothin’ to ya. You’re to young for that.”

“Nah, I know that, just gonna bully the shit outta him when I see him,” Hood grins and now Joseph is fully confused, because from what he’s heard their first baby Robin is now Nightwing in Blüdhaven and they’re not planning to expand that way. However, before he can ask, Hood says: “Sorry, continue.”

“Well, uhm, Batman came immediately. It was carnage, like I said,” Joseph replied. “Jimmy became a vegetable for a year and a half. Bats usually tries to give us injuries that’ll only last a few weeks max, so we all knew we’d fucked up with that.”

Hood is quiet at that and Joseph explains: “Jimmy was the first and one of the worst, but all the goons tha’ ended up in the hospital for longer than three months hurt a Robin. I think the worst might be those tha’ helped, uhm, that villain kill the second Robin. His organization’s still recoverin’ from tha’ one. Think it’s the closest the Bat ever got to killin’ a man.”

Joseph knows that Hood has some deep seated grudge and hatred for Joker, despite taking his old moniker. So, he isn’t sure how well it will land.

He holds his breath as he watches how his boss will react, hoping he isn’t about to get a bullet in the leg. With Hood you’re less likely to get one in the head, but he’s absolutely not above taking out your femur or kneecap and that also sucks.

However, Hood surprises him. Joseph has always guessed that Hood is younger than he pretends to be, but he now sounds like a lost kid as he asks: “Really?”

“Yeah, boss, the Bat don’t play around when it comes to his Robin,” Joseph answers, suddenly feeling like he’s talking to his own son, instead of his crime lord boss. “New kid’s lucky. I mean, he made Batman nicer, god was he fucked when the second one died. But Stan over at Mr. Freeze’s operation cracked a few of his ribs by accident a coupla weeks after the Bat took ‘im in, I hear he still eatin’ out of a tube now. Bat’s gotten more vicious.”

Hood doesn’t say anything and to avoid feeling awkward Joseph just keeps talking: “Heard through the grapevine tha’ the kid got attacked pretty bad at that fancy Tower they’ve got out there, if the guy who did tha’s capable of thought, it’ll surprise me.”

At that Hood shifts slightly and Joseph is surprised to see a bit of guilt in his stance. It’s not something they see often from their boss. Like everything this smoke break, Joseph has no clue how to react to it.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to, because Hood speaks first. Softly he says: “Guess the kid’s lucky. Just hope the Bat’s nearby when he needs ‘im.”

“Yeah, suppose,” Joseph agrees. “Though he usually is. Never seem ‘im leave the kid alone, especially this one.”

“Good, I’d kill ‘im otherwise,” Hood grunts.

While it fits with Hood’s penchant for protecting kids, Joseph is still thrown off by it, since Hood was shooting at Robin earlier. So he gives him a look, before saying: “I mean, ‘s good tha’ he worries. Kid’s a sprout. Must be older than my boy with the way he talks, but by god is he skinny.” Joseph laughs. “It’s almost funny tha’ I worry for the kid.”

“Nah, worry’s good,” Hood surprisingly assures him. “Wouldn’t be the same if he weren’t jumpin’ ‘round, even if he’s a nuisance.”

“That why ya were shootin’ at ‘im?” Joseph can’t help but ask, even though he knows it’s stupid. It is just- he can’t help it. Not after this strange conversation.

“Kinda,” Hood shrugs. “Little shit needs to learn not to touch my shit. Fucker moved my furniture, I like where my furniture is.”

“He was in your home?” Joseph exclaims, because what the fuck? Why didn’t they hear about it. If the Bats are investigating them close enough to break into their boss’s home, they have a big problem. Very big.

“Yeah, fucked up my alarms too, even though he got a perfectly good key,” Hood mopes and Joseph’s brain screeches to a halt.

Almost as if he’s misheard he asks: “He got a key? Robin got a key? A key to your home?”

“Not voluntarily,” Hood sulks, seemingly not aware of how fucked up that is. “He’s a little stalker. Still. Stole it and copied it.”

“We need to change the locks,” Joseph says, getting up immediately to get going. “Who knows what they’re after. You- you need a protective detail. We need to up security.”

Next to him Hood startles, looking surprised. Then he laughs and waves him away: “Nah, nah, no worries, Joseph. No worries. The Bats ain’t after us.”

“They broke into your home,” Joseph feels the need to point out, because that’s a very important and very worrying detail.

“Just Robin. And just to move my shit and eat my leftovers, which is fuckin’ rude, he has his own chef at home, I have to cook all by myself and it isn’t like he chips in for the groceries,” Hood complains, while Joseph just stares at him, bug eyed.

After a beat, Joseph says: “Uhm, boss, I- uh, I hafta ask. How- how close are ya to the Bats, because that ain’t normal. No- uh no ‘fence.”

“Batman can go suck a dick and Robin needs to go back to school,” Hood scowls. “Kid shouldn’t be out here and I’m not talkin’ to the old man. But he’s a persistent little shit, I haven’t shaken him yet. Doesn’t look like I will.”

That answers absolutely nothing, but does tell Joseph that he doesn’t really want to know, because his brain is putting things together, but not things he wants to think about, because if he thinks about it, he might realize that his boss is a teen and he doesn’t think he can handle the mental weight of knowingly working for a teen.

So, Joseph follows another unspoken rule of the goon and henchpeople underworld and keeps his mouth shut when the boss is spewing nonsense.

He already has a kid to raise, he doesn’t want to think about raising his boss and by the sounds of it, the boss already got people looking after him. Even if they annoy him. Joseph is just going to be grateful about that and ignore the rest.

And pray each Sunday in the Church he doesn’t go to anymore that Hood is gonna keep missing the kid when he shoots. He hasn’t faced that sort of wrath from the Bat yet and he doesn’t plan on ever doing so.

Best to keep his head down and follow all the unspoken rules. Next time he’s smoking alone or with more people than just the boss. He has his blood pressure to think about.

[meep-meep-richie]

BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG in the CORVETTE SUMMER videoclip

[starrystevie]

"since when do you know how to use a gun?"

steve's standing in the bunker doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, hip balanced against the door frame. he's watching eddie meticulously clean what used to be a basic rifle that's turned into some monstrous thing hopper built with an additional barrel and multiple scopes. they just got back from a big fight that took a lot out of them all, so he's not surprised that eddie stays silent before clicking something into place. the sound of the metal echoes off the barren walls and he finally turns to look at steve.

"since i started hunting with dear old dad when i was 6."

he pulls off a scope, peers inside and frowns at something steve can't see before blowing against the glass lightly. there's a rag sitting next to him covered in some mix of blood, guts and grease and steve wouldn't be surprised if it isn't the first cloth he's had to use on that particular rifle. it's one of nancy's favorites, after all, and she's not known to clean up after every fight.

eddie looks good with a gun in his hand, steve thinks in some dark recess of his brain that ignores the part where he hates guns. he thinks about the part that loves the focus on eddie's face when he holds one instead, his jaw set in place. eddie looks older, they all do, but with scars dotting his face and wrapped around his neck and days old stubble covering his chin because they haven't had enough water for a shave, he looks mature.

there's a permanent scowl on his face that seems wrong, takes over where cheeky grins used to be. he misses the days where eddie's laugh was the only thing ringing in steve's ears, when his eyebrows weren't pinched in the middle, when he would play alongside the kids with wild expressions and jokes to match.

steve guesses coming back from the dead could do that to a guy.

"hey," he offers, a bit quiet and hard to hear over the clinking of the metal and the ambient sounds of the underground bunker they've lived in for months now. eddie's head stays dropped over the gun as he cleans but he gives a hum in response, so steve takes it as a go ahead. "i think i'm ready to take you up on that offer."

eddie snorts. he wipes some grease over a piece of the gun before setting it down on the table to grab something else steve couldn't name if he tried. "gotta be more specific, stevie boy."

"i want-" steve huffs and readjusts his stance to look more serious. he wants to bring eddie back, but that might be too hard to do in the apocalypse. "i want you to teach me how to shoot."

they spend their allotted 30 minutes above ground later that afternoon in the open space that used to be an old garden. there's trees surrounding them and cans sitting on an old cardboard box structure yards ahead of them. everything's tinted red from the upside down sky that bled into hawkins a year ago and never seemed to leave.

the only gun steve wanted was a handgun, a tiny thing that he can hide in the back of his waistband if he needed, backup for if he lost his bat in a fight. it's not that he wants to shoot, that can be left to nancy and hopper and apparently eddie now that he's healed up enough to fight. no, steve just wants a way to connect with eddie again. a way to bring a little glimmer of light back into his eyes that look more and more like the upside down darkness everyday.

"you need to hold it tighter, steve." eddie's next to him with an arm hovering under steve's elbow as he aims at the pepsi can in the middle of the stack. "it'll throw you back when you shoot, so you gotta be ready."

steve lets his fingers curl tighter around the gun, careful not to press down with his pointer finger that's over the trigger. he can hear eddie huff under his breath and then suddenly he's there, hand curled around his arm and chest pressed against his side. eddie's hand whips up to wrap around steve's on the gun and he shakes his arm like he's testing how tense steve is.

"noodle arms ain't gonna help you. hold it tight."

there's something about the red sky and decay in the air and eddie's gravely voice in his ear that gets to him, his southern drawl more prominent now that he's come back. it's like he's trying to be wayne, trying to replicate what he thinks a man should be because the best model for it that he's had is wayne. steve plants his feet firmly in the ground to ignore the icy shiver passing through his body.

eddie breathes in deep and steve copies him, his shoulder pressing in firmly to eddie as he does. it feels like the first real breath he's had in a while and all it took was eddie munson touching him for steve to breathe again.

"that's better," eddie says and drops his hand from steve's elbow to hover somewhere around his waist. "be relaxed, but concentrate. keep steady and don't let your eyes look away. how do you feel?"

even though he asked a question, steve feels like he shouldn't answer. in some ways, it feels like a trap, like if he says what he actually feels then it's all going to fall apart. but there's this part of him, this tiny, nagging part of him that doesn't want to go back into the bunker without telling eddie how he's felt for far too long.

"okay, i think."

"go ahead and shoot when you're ready."

"...okay."

they stand in silence for a beat. steve can feel eddie's breath tickling the long hairs at his neck and there's a ringing in his ears that he doesn't know what to do with. the air is more suffocating than ever and steve wonders if he pulled out his pocket knife if he could cut through the tension.

eddie's hand finally lands on steve's waist and it blazes through him like a bullet. how is he supposed to shoot a gun, this all powerful thing, when eddie is there? he's breathing and he's alive and he's right where steve wants him to be. he knows he must tense up, knows he must take in a shuddering breath at the contact because-

"stop," eddie says, breaking the silence and pushing away from steve. he feels colder now, the fire that licked along his veins not 3 seconds ago diminishing at the distance between them. steve sighs, takes his hand off the trigger and lets his arm hand limply at his side. "why did you ask me to help you with this? why not nancy or hop?"

his questions hits steve like an accusation and steve wishes he had expected for it not to happen. this is eddie now, he's a little bit harsh and more than a little bit angry at the world. and god, steve had hoped that being with him, that being outside with him would help just even for a minute.

he wishes the upside down would open up and swallow him whole so he could escape the glare that eddie's throwing his way, but he couldn't stand to be an addition to the pain eddie carries around on his back. steve looks him in the eye, shoulders pushed back and something like determination on his face, and hopes he can feel what he's feeling, too.

"you know why."

it's whispered but he knows eddie hears him. it's loud, always loud in hawkins now, but he knows eddie hears him.

somewhere in between dragging eddie out of hell and nursing him back to semi-okayness and staying up in the middle of the night with cold rags on foreheads and arms wrapped around waists, something started growing. steve knows he can't have all of eddie from 86 back, and that's okay. he's not the steve from 86, either.

but he'll try with every last breath he has to see him smile again.

eddie steps closer, shuffles his boots across the dirt until he can take the gun from steve's hand. he does something with it that steve can't really see, unloads the ammo and puts the empty pieces into the deep pockets of his cargo pants. there's lighting flashing across the blood red sky and he's sees it mirrored in eddie's eyes.

"you mean it?" eddie whispers back. steve is strong and he's been holding on for so long to see a light like that in the dark brown pools he's staring into that it cracks a smile onto his face and he sees eddie's lips pull up just the tiniest bit to copy him. it's a start.

"yeah."

steve knows they don't have much time left topside and soon enough hopper will be yelling over the speaker they wired up to the bunker door that they have to come in. he knows they don't have much time left in whatever hawkins has become, more and more creatures breaking through the liminal space between worlds every day.

they don't have the time, but steve would tell the earth to stop spinning for eddie any day, and fitting their palms together to tangle their fingers seems like the right way to spend whatever time they have left.

[bag-0f-b0nes]

Hello fellow Stowaways and Vagabonds today i offer you: Jonny D'Ville

Bloody version under the cut

[just-an-emily-existing]

Sorry for the lack of Pizza Tower content been a bit unmotivated but I got The Vigilante done! Isn’t he so cool?

[fiftytwoeightythree]

You know who the criminal is, and you know the circumstances but we know you'll lose the criminals because of lack of evidence. // That's how the truth managed to get out. Because people remembered, I was able to appear in front of you.

TAXI DRIVER

[your-daily-snl]

HBO Mario Kart Trailer, starring a gritty version of Mario (Pedro Pascal) as he travels through a grueling world of mushrooms and racecarts.

Original Air Date: 2023

[zay-does-things]

Bonnie Freeman but she's a DR secret boss

For her neutral special, Bonnie wields a gun!

[revehae]

day and night (2)

pairing ↠ jeno x (f) reader x haechan

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, mean!dom!jeno, implied sub!haechan, gun play, degradation, slapping, kidnapping, oral (m receiving), sadist!jeno, implied dacryphilia

summary ↠ weeks have passed since you’ve known freedom and you haven’t lost hope of going home, but jeno intends to whip you into shape. eventually, you resign yourself to the fact that your new home is with jeno and haechan, and a part of you begins to make peace with that.

wc ↠ 3.1k

a/n ↠ the second and final part of day and night. this is a repost!

don’t like it, don’t read.

it had been an uncertain amount of weeks since you last had a taste of freedom; though it felt like it had been months. at least you still knew the warmth of daylight. haechan, ever lenient, was sweet enough to allow you to step briefly outside on occasion, in the gated backyard where no one could see you and you could see no one.

and without jeno’s awareness, of course. as far as jeno was concerned, you spent your days there rotting alive at their control. part of you had been long-tempted to make noise, to scream help at the top of your lungs, because you knew that haechan would never hurt you. at least, not to the extent that jeno would. but you had a creeping feeling that he’d tell jeno, because after all, it was their lives and future at stake if anyone were to find out what they did to you. and jeno would be absolutely furious. in preference of not seeing jeno seething with rage any more of which you already had in the past few weeks—because every instance ended with you in a very compromising position—you very wisely decided to brainstorm a little more.

haechan was the subject of all of your various ideas, even the least lethal ones. you had abused his kindness from the moment you were brought into this situation, in your very futile efforts to convince haechan to tell you who was “forcing” him into the crime, and to let you go. he was a willing participant, you achingly learned and accepted, but you would improve your craft this time.

it was one of those nights - you were locked up inside your room and your captors were only god knows where. when haechan entered, you were dreadful, though unsurprised. you came to learn that your captors - him especially - were awfully needy. the long weeks consisted of fueling their need to get off and them using your body to their heart’s content. this was no different, although you appreciated that haechan was at least not intentionally rough. and he was fairly submissive to you. though he followed his needs very blindly, he still had some compassion for you.

haechan looked at you, eyes begging please. seeing as you had no other real choice, you gave in to his desires as per usual, but this time with a plan.

“f-fuck,” he moaned, utterly sensitive. the moment you sank down around him, haechan was weak. it always went like that; as if the barest touch could satisfy his never-ending needs. you knew that wasn’t true, though. haechan’s greed too often overcame him.

you flattened your palms against his stomach, feeling like you were at the top of the world from above him and every bit of him was a puzzle of the earth. his mouth where his pitchy whines spilled, his wincing eyes, and the heaving of his chest like a storming sea. haechan’s every characteristic was a mere advantage to you; his pleasure bound him. it sought control over his body which it successfully conquered, and that was his achilles heel. he could never deny what his body so desperately wanted.

at almost the height of his pleasure, you attacked. by now, it was too obvious to you when haechan was at the brink. the tremble in his body, his voice soaring in pitch. he simply couldn’t stay still nor quiet. “feel good?” you asked, already aware of the answer. he couldn’t speak through his moans, only nodding his head rapidly in response. “don’t you think i deserve a reward for making you feel so good, baby?”

haechan blinked, swallowing to wet his drying throat. whatever you wanted, the way that you called him baby had him ready to give you the whole world if he could. “reward?” 

“yeah,” you sighed, leaning down to gently press your lips to his neck in between your words, “you should let me go… we can rat jeno out and pin this all on him. and then you’ll have me all… to yourself. doesn’t that sound good? you can have me whenever you want and don’t have to share me.”

haechan gripped your hips, and in mere seconds he was cumming inside of you. he hadn’t yet verbally agreed, but that alone told you that he was likely on-board. if there was anything you had discovered during the span of these weeks, it was that haechan put his greed before anything.

and you felt victorious until another voice startled you. 

“well, bra-fucking-vo!” jeno whooped, though you knew his amusement was probably anything but sincere. your eyes widened and you crawled off of haechan, backing away as instant fear shot through your chest. if jeno had heard all of that, it went without a doubt that you were in for a punishment.

oh, this was a classic. either jeno excelled at being at the wrong place at the wrong time or this room was something of cursed, though either way, you hated it when this happened. granted, this was only the second time it had, but jeno had invoked enough fear in you from that day alone for you to dread him ever discovering even the thought of you trying to escape.

“j-jeno, i-”

“j-j-jeno, shut the fuck up,” he mocked, switching on a dime. you could see it clearly then - the rage burning like wildfire in his irises.

haechan had been startled, too. it seemed that he only clearly got back into his head when it was too late; when jeno appeared, and he realized just how terrible of a trance you had him in only mere moments ago. it was far too easy for you to hypnotize him and put him under your enticingly dark spells.

jeno shut the door behind him and then stormed over, but much to your surprise, he didn’t storm over to you. he grabbed haechan - who had very swiftly redressed - by his collar, growling, “you fucking idiot. does your dumbass really think she’s gonna let you off the hook just like that? no, she’s gonna turn you and i both in the very second she gets the fucking chance. think with your head instead of your tiny ass balls for once.”

immediately afterwards, jeno released him roughly, making haechan nearly fall back against the sheets. and then, he finally turned to you. you crawled back, pushing yourself away with your hands, yet you had nowhere you could run nor hide. “and you. boy, do i got something for you,” jeno chuckled, and swung his flat palm towards your face. you shut your eyes, but it never came. jeno paused mid-slap, then said in the midst of his rage, “you know what? i have a better idea.”

jeno left the room. you could only dread whatever idea had suddenly popped up inside his head, and the feeling only heightened when you saw him re-enter some moments later with a gun firm in his hand. the fear on your face made him laugh, but you brought it upon yourself anyways. if you had just been an obedient little plaything for them, he would have never needed to bring out the extremes. though, shockingly enough, he walked over and handed the gun to haechan, who stared at him in confusion. 

“you aren’t off the hook, baby,” jeno said mockingly, nudging haechan. “come on.”

haechan obediently followed him to the other side of the bed where you quivered and cowered. you weren’t the only one to be punished when it came down to displeasing jeno, and you probably wouldn’t believe him if he said that he knew that better than you did. 

jeno grabbed you by your neck, ordering sharply, “get on your knees.”

you dropped to your knees without hesitance, only willing to please him so urgently because you didn’t want to upset him further. and god, he was easily irritable.

“you’re going to suck me off,” he said simply, “and your baby here is gonna hold that gun to your head to keep you in compliance.” 

haechan’s eyes flashed with shock, and he quickly tried to dissuade jeno, “but-”

“no ‘but’s. do you wanna go to fucking prison? kiss your dreams goodbye?” jeno barked, to which haechan shook his head immediately. “then, do what the hell i said. simple as that.”

it took everything in you when you felt the gun being pressed to your head once again not to cry, but you didn’t want to show jeno any signs of weakness. he didn’t care if you sobbed and if anything, it probably got him off even more. sickly enough.

jeno kicked you with his foot, and you bit back a groan of pain. “fuck are you waiting for? get on with it.”

you obeyed, reaching for his pants and pulling them down his ankles. his underwear followed. you didn’t move with intention, heart racing so fast to the point where you hardly felt alive, detached from your body and only physically present. the fear born in you controlled your every move.

jeno was already half-hard, and you mindlessly pumped his dick, him going fully stiff in your palms before you knew it. you latched your lips onto him, drawing him into your mouth. you were at least grateful that he had left you with some control, in spite of the gun haechan was holding to the side of your head. you recalled the many times within the span of the past few weeks where he had given your mouth a rough fucking - stressed from practice and all those sorts of things and letting it out on you - until your throat had gone sore and you could do nothing but croak hoarsely when he fucked you full only moments after. at least for now, the pace was somewhat yours. 

or not. 

you went too slow. you didn’t mean to tease, but jeno surely took it as such. jeno grabbed the gun from haechan and pointed it at your temple himself, then very quickly pulled the trigger. when you heard the click, you prepared to meet your end, the frightened tears finally streaming warmly down your cheeks as the thought of freedom rolled into your brain. but nothing came, and when you glanced up at jeno, teary-eyed, his cock twitched in your mouth.

“that’s what happens when you tease,” jeno said, a wicked grin on his lips, and he handed the revolver back to haechan. “only one of the chambers is loaded. fuck around and find out which one is.” 

you didn’t want to do that, and so you upped your pace, trying your hardest to satisfy him. he tipped his head back, roughly yanking for a fistful of your hair and forcing your mouth deeper down his shaft.

when he opened his eyes back, he laughed. not at you, but at haechan, the one who tried to hurt you as little as possible. come to think of it, the only time he ever did was because of the influence of jeno, which was why his kindness was so easy to manipulate. if only jeno had never popped up when he did. you might have actually gotten away with it. instead, both you and haechan were being forced to do something you hated.

“haechan, your hands are shaking like crazy,” jeno remarked teasingly. then, he looked at you and mocked, “you better pray your baby doesn’t fuck around and kill you.”

it was that day you began to accept that you would never know freedom again.

jeno wanted to be sure you knew it, though, just so that you would never forget and in case you needed the rough reminder. and also because he simply loved the look on your face as all the hope was drained from it, and you realized once more that your fate lied in their hands.

once jeno found out about you and haechan’s backyard escapades, he forbid haechan from ever taking you back outside, allegedly because being out there was giving you ideas. and it was, but they ultimately always fell through, obviously, and most of them were too stupid to even dare be attempted.

on occasions where he was feeling extremely cruel, he would fuck you with the news channel playing in the background, forcing you to listen to the news anchor talk about your disappearance and how they were, fortunately enough, still searching for you, though the police had little leads. he would taunt, “soon, they’ll give up and stop looking. no one’s going to save you, whore.”

and that broke you like nothing else had. it stung to think that this was what had become of your life ever so suddenly, in the blink of an eye. this was the lifestyle that you were being forced to adapt to, one where you felt more like a pet than a person. a doll than anything even breathing and alive.

then, weeks became months, and you were beginning to see your captors in a different light. perhaps it was the lack of vitamin D and other human interactions getting to your head, but there came the realization that they were attractive. you had simply been too blinded by hatred to accept it. though now, you were becoming attracted to them.

soon, you began snooping around. usually they kept you barricaded upstairs (they took preliminary measures to ensure you couldn’t escape, locking the windows and doors and such.) so when you were certain that both of them were in class, you left your room and ventured into one of theirs. it was haechan’s that you entered, you realized sooner than later. the pictures of him and some of his friends or family on the walls, his gaming chair and console very telling. you ignored the box of tissues on his desk, glancing around elsewhere. it wasn’t tidy or messy, but you got the undying urge to clean, and that you did. in all honesty, you had nothing better to do. 

then, you went to jeno’s. his room was clean, surprisingly so, though also terribly bare. the only pictures he had were ones taken after his teams had won games and he was holding the trophy. he had a case busting at the seams with trophies from the endless amount of achievements he had made in his lifetime. to you, that part made sense.

“fuck are you doing?” 

you jumped, startled. though you weren’t surprised when you turned around and saw jeno standing at the door frame. scratch your bedroom being cursed - if they all weren’t, then he definitely just knew how to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. 3 times was certainly not a coincidence.

in an instant, you replied, “i wasn’t messing with anything, i swear-”

jeno burst into laughter. he liked it too much that you were afraid of him. all of the fear that flooded you in moments upon noticing his presence was what he lived for.

“were you gonna clean up my room, too?” jeno asked teasingly, stepping forward. for once, he didn’t seem mad. not that you had done anything to merit his anger - yet. so you only stood there, hoping he wouldn’t switch up. “like some fucking maid or something?”

gulping, you stammered, “i thought you were in class.”

“yeah, it got canceled last-minute,” he shrugged, now at your side and playing with your hair. something about his presence was constricting. you held your breath, unable to ignore that he was there almost whenever he stood in the same room as you. “we can do something better though, right?”

at the same time, you were so used to him lashing out and punishing you whenever he caught you doing something that this was too unfamiliar and didn’t feel right. sure, he was still mean enough to mock you, but jeno never played with your hair; he played with you. it was something haechan had gotten accustomed to, the more unshocking person. jeno’s every move aroused suspicion in you.

jeno pulled your hair a little roughly - reminding you that you forgot to respond - and asked again, more firmly, “right?”

and there it was.

“right,” you answered swiftly.

“knees.”

so down on your knees you went. you unfastened his belt and pulled down his clothes, and stroked him stiff. it was a well-practiced routine, though the difference now was that you seemed to suck him with greed, taking him in your mouth as if you hadn’t eaten in days (and as cruel as jeno could be, he never starved you). which did not go unnoticed by the man you knelt before.

“just like that. keep it up and maybe i’ll reward that stupid cunt of yours.”

and you hated that that excited you. you were only glad that he wasn’t inside of you, because he would have felt you tightening around his dick if he was being needy, or his fingers if he was being nice.

much like haechan, jeno also had obvious signs of being close to the edge. when you were giving him head, he liked to grip your hair and take matters into his own hands, quite literally, guiding your way around his cock until he came. nothing had changed today. he was groaning, pulling you down further down. he didn’t care if you gagged, either. it was none of his concern if you couldn’t breathe. he had one goal and that was to use your mouth for his pleasure.

and he liked to see you swallow. so, when he came, that was what you did, but some of his cum streamed down your chin and dripped onto the floor in a tiny puddle.

you tried to stand, but jeno pulled back down. you glanced at him, confused, but he only shot you an expecting look. “where do you think you’re going? you have a mess to clean.” 

your eyes flickered a couple of times, and then you realized he meant the puddle. “i can go get some napkins,” you said, trying to stand again. 

jeno didn’t allow it, pulling you again, and with a fistful of your hair in his clutch, he lowered your head down to the floor, ordering sharply. “clean. it.”

after you blinked a couple of times, that was when you realized what he meant. and the more you waited around, the more violent he got, lifting your head and slamming it back down, just above the floor to give you a scare. so you did as told, licking the puddle away with your tongue. easily one of the most shameful things you’ve done.

you didn’t realize he was recording until you were finally able to lift your head up, and saw his camera pointed in your face. “haechan’s gonna lose his fucking mind,” jeno chuckled. “should we give him a show?”

[hawkbutt]

♪♫♪♫ "I'm pulling through, and it's because of you, I'd do the same for you if your turn came"♪♫♪♫ - Billie Holiday

Evan "Buck" Buckley, Vault dweller from the 118, seasoned by the wasteland, finally re-united with his Sister Maddie Buckley

[ketho484]

Chapter seven of the Actor AU!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of near death and actual death as well as gun use. Discretion is advised

Au belongs to @frillsand

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Chapter 7: The Rescue

The cast of Welcome home all had a day off today. They went to their chatroom and decided to meet at the community center to figure out their next move to help Willow. They all met at the center, Wally arriving last as he was still seething after last night. When prompted by Barnaby about his anger, Wally told them everything he learned, showing them the contents of the briefcase as proof. Needless to say, they were convinced his theory might be right.

“No wonder you go to close to her so quickly” Poppy stated as she and Howdy inspected the birth certificate

“No wonder she trusted you more than all of us combined” Howdy added

“And now that poor little kid is living with her kidnapper?” Sally asked, Wally nodding in affirmation

“And the murderer of your parents?” Frank added, earning another nod from Wally, who looked ready to kill someone

“Gee, Wally. That must’ve been really hard on you to learn this” Eddie said as he put a comforting hand on Wally’s shoulder

“…I’m going to that house tonight” Wally stated “We have the evidence we need right here. Id you guys can keep all this safe, I’ll get Willow somewhere safe and make sure the cops take him away”

“Wally, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Julie asked, worried for her friend “What if you get hurt?”

“Julie’s right” Barnaby spoke up “If you’re gonna do this, at least take someone as backup”

“Not to mention a potential witness if something goes wrong” Frank added

“Mmmm…You all make good points” Wally said as he took a breath “I-I just couldn’t sleep last night now that I know what I know”

“It’s okay, Wally” Poppy said as she wrapped a wing around his shoulders “Nobody’s judging you. We just want you to be careful”

Wally sighed and looked over at Eddie

“…Me?” Eddie pointed to himself

“You and Howdy both work jobs outside of our acting careers” Wally explained “You work at the post office in the early mornings, he works the night shift at a Whole Foods. Not only are you the most available, but thanks to your job, you’re cool under pressure and won’t freak out of something goes wrong”

“Wally has a point” Howdy said “You remember that fight that broke out in the store last time you were there. You immediately took charge and acted as a mediator to help break it up before security could do anything”

“If anything, behind that sweet attitude is a smart soldier” Frank added, making eddie blush

“Well…If you really think i’m capable, you don’t mind if I drive, do you?” Eddie asked shyly “My car is darker, so it’ll be less likely to be spotted”

“Deal” Wally smiled before turning to the others “The rest of you be on standby just in case something goes wrong in the worst possible way”

With an affirming nod, the group all went back to their homes, Eddie taking the briefcase just in case Eric tried looking through Wally’s house to get it back. Wally waited all day, practicing his painting while he did before Eddie pulled up in his simple, black Camaro. Wally got in, tablet in hand, and directed Eddie to the right house. The arguing was really bad tonight. Poor Willow was crying again as Wally pulled out his phone and called the cops.

“HCPD, how can I help you?” A lady on the other line spoke

“Hi, I’d like to report that I might’ve found the killer of the Darling couple” Wally said

“Wait, really!?” The lady spoke up “Where is he!?”

“Number 2059 West Maple Avenue”

“Damn, that’s in the suburbs. No wonder we couldn’t find this guy. Alright, a squad is-”

Before the lady could finish, a loud shot was heard inside the house, making both Eddie and Wally jump

“What was that?” The lady asked, having heard the gunshot

“…I think the guy shot a gun” Wally said worriedly

“Okay, don’t move. Help is coming” The woman said before hanging up

“We’ve gotta get Willow out of there!” Wally said as he dropped his phone and dashed for the house, Eddie following close behind

Willow screamed from inside, a scream that quickly got louder as she saw Wally and ran for him. Wally was going to pick her up, But Eric came from behind and headlocked her, picking her up and backing away as he held a gun to her temple. Behind them, Wally and Eddie could both see Jessica dead on the ground with a bullet hole in her skull. It made them sick, but also sad that the one person Willow saw as her mom, the only one in that house who tried to save her, had died to try and make that happen.

“Stay back!” Eric shouted, Willow crying out as she struggled in his hold, finding it somewhat hard to breathe, though not impossible “You bastards should’ve minded your own damn business!”

“It is our business!” Wally shouted, rage evident in his eyes “Especially since you took my sister away!”

“This brat is mine!” Eric screamed “This is how a puppet should treat it’s fucking master! And you made her disobey!”

“Please let her go” Eddie begged “She’s just a child”

“No! I’m making sure nobody will find this brat again!” Eric shouted as Willow got an idea “And you can’t stop me-AAAAAGH!!!”

At that moment, as the sirens were being heard coming closer, Willow bit down into Eric’s arm and ran towards Wally, not even thinking about catching her breath. Wally bent down and held her in his arms, but turned his body around when Eric pointed the gun and fired, Eddie, getting down to avoid the shot…

…Silence filled the air followed by a thump. Willow let out a scream as Eddie ran to place pressure on a fresh gunshot wound in Wally’s chest. The guy was struggling to breathe, his vision blurring and his hearing muffled as he heard sirens of the cops and an ambulance. The cops dragged a screaming Eric to their car while the paramedics took Wally straight to the hospital. Eddie had to stop Willow from running after him, holding her back so the medics could do their jobs. Once she stopped struggling, once the ambulance drove off, Eddie washed his hands in the house sink and took Willow to the car, driving her to his apartment. It was small, but quaint. Eddie set Willow on the couch and got her something small to eat, not wanting her tummy to be too upset after what she just went through. She didn’t eat anything. She just stared at her plate for forty-five minutes before the landline rang. Eddie picked it up.

“Hello? This is Eddie” He spoke to the other person on the line, though Willow couldn’t hear what the other person was saying “Uh-huh…Yeah, she’s safe. How’s Wally?…Yeah? Oh my gosh, thank you so much!…Yeah? Oh…Oh, I see…No, no, I’ll tell her…Yeah, I’ll deliver the news…He’s going to be okay, right?…Okay…Yeah, thank you” With that, Eddie hung up the phone and approached Willow slowly “Well…The good news is he’s stable”

“Will he be coming for me?” Willow asked, her voice quiet as she set the food tray aside

“…That’s the bad news. He’s in a coma right now, so he won’t be able to wake up for a little while” Eddie explained, pulling the little puppet into his arms “He’ll wake up, I’m sure of it, but he needs some time, okay?”

Willow hugged Eddie, fresh tears coming to her eyes as she nodded tiredly

"...Okay. I trust you..."

[theambivalentagender]

Shut the fuck up I'm getting new antidepressants tomorrow.

[cerebralbleu]

𝟎𝟎𝟎. 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞

Master Knives. Forgive me. At the very end, I finally learned the meaning of joy.

I’ve been beaten. It was a mere instant, an awesome concentrated effort.

I don’t remember.

How did I fight? How did I die?

But. . . It’s all good.

It’s. . .

All good.

𝐘𝐎𝐔! 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. . . 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐦𝐞! 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐦𝐲 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄! 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓! 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐎𝐎𝐓! 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭.

Legato Bluesummers understood that his purpose in life was to die. Once he was no longer of use to his brilliant master, there was no reason for him to continue on. He was human, after all, a part of the species that was marked for total extermination by Knives. Even so, Legato was not immune to his own selfish desires; his death could not be meaningless, no, he had to go out in glory, and prove that he had laid his life down in the name of his twisted demiurge's mission.

To break the spirit of Vash the Stampede, to give him the gift of eternal guilt, was satisfying enough, despite ultimately failing to prevent his master's brother from advancing forward.

Legato Bluesummers had to beg for his life from the beginning of his existence. And he had to beg for his death as well.

A bullet to the cranium is a damning, permanent action. Forcing Vash to shoot him was meant to be the end of everything. When the remnants of consciousness are wiped from his already broken body, he is washed away into the chthonic ichor in preparation to be consumed by the afterlife. Or so he thought.

When golden eyes flutter open, Legato can still hear the ringing between his eardrums from the gun going off. Not a single thought crosses his mind in the immediate moments of regaining consciousness-- until he REALIZES that he was conscious. Or-- was he? The human mind did terrible things while preparing the nervous system for death; all Legato could see around him was an expanse of white-- with blurry vision, and dizziness grasping him, he makes no attempt to move until his sight begins to stabilize.

This was certainly no heaven, the Lord knows that he would never be permitted to such an eternity.

Four white walls surrounded him.

The ringing dulls, and he sits up from the floor with a jolt.

'What is this?'

The rolling sands of the desert planet and her twin suns-- had been replaced by a dull carpet, and a bright, fluorescent light? No-- he was indoors, but that made no sense, he was DEAD, he DIED-- or, he was SUPPOSED to be dead.

'Is this supposed to be a sick joke?'

Had he been manipulated into believing he had been killed, only to be knocked unconscious and left somewhere?! No, no no no, no, if that were the case--

Master Knives, the ships, VASH--

Legato lets out a frustrated screech as he raises to his feet. Immediately he notices something critical: the weight on his brain, the pressure on his cranium that was created by his threads-- it was significantly lighter. Oh. How troublesome. He tilts his head back, craning it to the side in an attempt to calibrate himself with someone close by. The threads spanned a drastic distance-- but he is incapable of making that psionic connection between brains.

There was nobody. And his power was quashed.

The schism between himself and his surroundings was unnerving.

"Where have you gone?" He utters lowly, words tense and sharp through his teeth. Whether the question was directed at himself, or somebody else, was in the air.

In a state of panic and psychosis, the man opens the door, barely registering that he was in a hotel or apartment of sorts due to his tunnel vision. He shambles through the space until he leaves the apartment behind, ignoring anybody that he may pass in the winding hallways of the residential building. Legato would eventually find his way outside, onto the streets.

Isola Radiale-- the words flash in his brain like a radio wave, distorted by the frenzy beginning to build in the ill-willed man's mind, and muffled by the blaring sounds of the city and it's denizens surrounding him.

Legato Bluesummers enters the Golden Ward of Spirale, completely unaware of the amalgamation of nightmares that were swelling through the city streets, spawning from the minds of the citizens. Perhaps he was just another manifestation of those awful dreams. Was he real? Was any of this real?

I'm supposed to be dead. Mocking my life was a shameful display. Falsifying my death. . . That is just as cruel as I.

With compromised vision, the scenery shifts between the unusual city that surrounded him, and the scorched sands of No Man's Land. It was a trick of his mind, it had to be. Right. He was not dead. And the target of his torment was still out there, fleeing from making a decision. What an awful sin of the deplorable saint. Hunting him down without the wires connecting them was going to be difficult-- but hatred was a powerful fuel.

Ｗｈｅｒｅ ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ， Ｖａｓｈ ｔｈｅ Ｓｔａｍｐｅｄｅ？ Ｓｈｏｗ ｙｏｕｒｓｅｌｆ．