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q-gorgeous · 3 years

Text

If You Go Out of This World Today

fanfiction

ao3

The Accident didn’t turn Danny into a half ghost, but instead allowed him to see, hear, and physically interact with the very real ghosts that are now pouring through the portal (Alternative: Danny’s always been clairvoyant, but after the accident he finally sees all of the ghosts he’d grown up talking to) prompt by @sapphireswimming

word count: 3358

yo another prompt hidey hey

Ember had been chasing Johnny and Kitty through the Ghost Zone when it happened. Suddenly she was tripping her way through a natural portal that had spontaneously formed in front of her and she tumbled straight into the human world. Before she could stand back up, the portal had closed already.

Looking around, she could see that she was in a bedroom. The walls were painted blue with stars stuck to the ceiling. There was a night light plugged into the wall and as she looked around her gaze landed on a small boy who was sitting straight up in his bed. He had black hair and blue eyes and he was staring at his closet with wide eyes.

“Hello?” He called. “Is someone there?”

Ember stays quiet, not ready to announce her presence. A few moments later though, a woman walks in through the door.

“Danny, are you alright?”

He points to his closet. “I thought I heard a weird noise. Can you look?”

She nods. She walks over to the closet and opens it, sticking her head inside. Looking back and forth, she calls back out to Danny.

“Nothing in here.”

“No ghosts?” Danny asks, lifting his blanket up to cover the bottom half of his face.

“No ghosts.” She confirms. “We’d know if there were ghosts in the house.”

Ember nearly snorts but holds the sound back.

“Now, it's time for bed.” She walks over to the bed and starts tucking him back in.

“Mommy! Can you sing me a song before I go back to sleep?” He begged.

His mom smiled and sat down on the bed beside him, brushing his hair out of his face. Then she began to sing.

“If you go out of this world today

You’re sure of a big surprise

If you go out of this world today

You’d better go in disguise.”

Ember frowned. That’s not how she remembered this song going.

“For every ghost that ever there was

Will gather there for certain, because

Today’s the day the wretched ghosts have their picnic.”

Wretched ghosts?

“If you go out of this world today

You’d better not go alone

It’s pretty out of the world today

But safer to stay at home.

For every ghost that ever there was

Will gather there for certain, because

Today’s the day the wretched ghosts have their picnic.”

Ember didn’t know what to make of this woman or her parody of this lullaby. Why was it about ghosts? Most people didn’t even believe in ghosts.

“Every wretched ghost, who’s been bad

Is sure of a treat today

There’s lots of wonderful things to do

And wonderful tests to try.”

Ember stared at the woman in horror. Did they study ghosts? Why did they hate ghosts so much?

“Beyond the clouds where nobody sees

They’ll hide and seek as long as they please

Today’s the day the wretched ghosts have their picnic.

Today’s the day the wretched ghosts have their picnic.”

Ember stood frozen to the spot where she stood. Realistically, she knew she should be escaping and trying to find a way back to the ghost zone right now. If this woman managed to find her and capture her, who knows what she’d plan on doing.

But on the other hand, what kind of mother sings about experimenting on ghosts to her kids? What if he’s in danger? The way his mother had sung that last verse had unnerved Ember, and while it seemed to have put the boy to sleep, it still left a sour taste in her mouth.

Looking at the boy in the small bed, her resolve hardened. She’d stay and watch over him. Or at least stay long enough to figure out if he’d be okay.

QQQQQ

It was a few days later when Ember first let something slip. Danny was watching cartoons in front of the tv downstairs and she laughed at something that happened in the show. Danny’s head had whipped to the side and looked in her general direction with wide eyes.

“Hello?”

Ember took in a sharp breath. Most humans couldn’t hear or see ghosts. She just happened to find one that could, but at least it didn’t seem like he could see her at all. She shouldn’t start talking to him but…

“Hi.”

His mouth dropped open. “Why can’t I see you?”

“Uh, well. Because I’m a ghost.”

“You’re a ghost?” He gaped at the empty air beside her head. “Mom-!”

“No! Shh sh!” Ember started waving her hands in a “no” motion even though he couldn’t see her. “Don’t tell them! If they found out I was here they’d try to trap me!” She had found the Fenton’s lab two days ago, and while it cemented the idea that this was a dangerous place for a toddler, it also scared the shit out of her.

“Trap you? How can they trap you if you’re a ghost?”

“Your parents are very smart people. They have all sorts of stuff that they’re building in the basement.”

“The basement? What’s in the basement?” He started climbing off the couch.

“Nope, nope! You’re not going down to the basement. It’s too dangerous down there.” Ember stood to block his path even though, again, he couldn’t see her.

He let out a whine. “That’s what mommy and daddy always say. I’m a big boy now! When will I be able to go into the basement?”

Ember shook her head. “Not for a long time I’d hope.”

Danny groaned and climbed back onto the couch, laying face down on it instead of facing the tv to watch the show. “Why can’t I go down there when they’re down there all day?” He asked quietly.

Ember frowned at him sadly and sat down beside his head. “Even big boys like you need to be protected from dangerous things. But! How about we hang out together? We can be buddies, small fry.”

Danny scrambled up into a sitting position excitedly. “Like an imaginary friend? Except for real?”

She chuckled. “Sure. Like an imaginary friend. Let’s go with that.”

Danny cheered. “Come on! Let’s go play superhero in my room!”

He charged up the stairs and she followed slowly after him, chuckling.

QQQQQ

“You’re doing what?” Johnny asked incredulously.

“Staying here.” Ember watched as Danny swung on the swings, his mother tinkering with an invention in her hands as she sat on the bench.

“What’s the fun in that?” Kitty asked. “What’s the point in staying here if no one can see you? How are you going to scare any of them?”

Ember scoffed, her brows drawing down as she looked at them. “I’m not here to scare anyone.”

“Then why are you here?” Johnny asked.

Ember fidgeted where she stood, looking at Danny. “I tripped through a portal into that kids room when I got here. Everything seemed pretty normal until his mom started singing a song about experimenting on ghosts.”

“So what? He’s not a ghost.” Kitty said bluntly.

“No, but what kind of parents sing about torturing something to their kid? I looked around their house and they have a lab full of weapons and a dissection table and everything! I don’t think it matters that he’s not a ghost, that’s not a safe place to be in. Half the time his parents forget to come up and feed them and his older sister has to make something to eat for the two of them.” Ember sighed. “I know what it’s like to come from a shitty home situation. I just want to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

Johnny and Kitty shared a sad look. Kitty spoke up. “We get that too, but what about your safety? If they’re ghost hunters they probably pose more of a danger to you than they do to him.”

Ember snorted. “As if. I don’t know how they got to be where they are but they are probably the most air headed scientists ever. They think their tracking devices are locking onto Danny somehow instead of me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you end up fading-”

“What’s fading?” Danny asked suddenly.

Johnny yelped as he was interrupted, not noticing the boy approaching them. Ember chuckled.

“We can talk about that later. What are you doing over here, small fry?”

“I heard you talking to someone else. I wanted to come see who it was. It’s also boring playing by myself.” Danny pouted and kicked his foot in the woodchips.

“Well you’re in luck, little dip! I’ve got two great friends here who would love to play with us!”

“Wait-” Johnny said, waving his hands back and forth.

“What do you want to play?” Ember continued, ignoring him.

“Oohh, we can play ice cream man!” Danny said excitedly. He started running towards a plastic counter thing that was built into the playground. “Ice cream! Get your ice cream!” He shouted.

“Why are you dragging us into this?” Johnny asked.

“Loosen up a little bit, he’s just a kid. It’s not like you guys have to stay. Hello Mr. Ice Cream Man!” Embered said cheerily as she walked up to where Danny stood at the counter.

“Hello! What can I get for you today?”

“Hm.” Ember looked above Danny’s head at a pretend menu. “How about a strawberry ice cream cone?”

“Coming right up!” Danny bent over and reappeared a few seconds later with a pile of woodchips that he poured all over the counter. “Order served!”

“Thank you! Wow! Om nom nom, so delicious!” Ember said, pretending to eat her ice cream.

Danny swept the woodchips off of the counter. “Next!”

Johnny rolled his eyes but Kitty pulled him forward. “Hi! Can we get an ice cream sundae for two? It’ll be so romantic.” She fluttered her eyes at Johnny and he made a face at her.

“Coming right up!” Once again, Danny bent over but this time when he dumped the woodchips on the counter, it was an even bigger pile. “Order served!”

Kitty made pretend eating sounds and Ember was about to walk back up to the counter when she heard the voices of a couple of kids nearby.

“Can we have some ice cream?”

Two kids about Danny’s age walked up to him. One had big glasses on his face and the other had her black hair done up in two pigtails. Danny stared at them for a few seconds before responding. “Right! Yes. What flavors would you two like?”

The kid with glasses whispered in the girl’s ear and she approached the counter.

“Mint chocolate chip and chocolate chip cookie dough?”

“Coming right up!” Danny bent over once again and picked up two handfuls of woodchips, placing them on the counter. The girl stared at them for a few seconds.

“Order served!”

She giggled and picked them up, bringing them close to her face. “Mmm, this is the most delicious ice cream I’ve ever had.” She nudged her friend beside her, who was staring sadly at the woodchips.

“Huh? Oh.” He picked up his own pile. “Om nom nom. So good.”

The girl laughed again. “I’m Sam. This is Tucker.” Tucker waved. “Did you want to come play in the sandbox with us?”

He stared at her again, eyes wide, before his face split into a grin. “Sure! What are you guys playing?”

Ember waved goodbye to Johnny and Kitty as they announced their goodbyes. She followed Danny and his new friends across the park to the sandbox.

“We were just going to see how big of a hole we can dig.” Tucker says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I think we can get to China.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “We don’t have time for that Tucker. My mom wants me home by four, remember?”

His shoulders slumped. “Oh yeah.”

Ember chuckled at them. Having friends Danny’s age will probably be good for him. She hasn’t seen one kid come over in the couple weeks she’s been staying with him.

“Wait what time is it now?” Danny asked.

He only got two shrugs in return.

“Come on, let’s go talk to my mom. Maybe we can convince her and whoever brought you guys to get us ice cream instead of playing in the sandbox.”

Sam and Tucker’s eyes lit up and they hurried after Danny as he ran to the bench where his mom sat, who had finally put her invention away and was reading a book instead.

“Mom, Mom! What time is it?”

She checked a watch on her wrist. “3:15. We’ll be leaving soon though, so you better finish anything you still want to do.”

Ember silently laughed at the panic that appeared on Danny’s face. “Can we find Sam and Tucker’s parent and get ice cream instead of staying in the park? Please?” He clasped his hands together and started begging, Sam and Tucker following suit.

“Who are-”

Maddie finally looked up at the three kids standing in front of her. “Oh! Why hello there! Danny! You made some friends!”

“Can we pleeeease get some ice cream?”

“Pleease?” Sam and Tucker chorused.

Maddie chuckled. “I don’t see why not. We have to go find your guardian first and ask them if you two can have some though.” She stood up and started packing her book back into her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

The three kids cheered and Sam and Tucker ran their way over to another bench on the other side of the playground.

“Mom! Me and Sam made a new friend! We were wondering if we could all get ice cream together!”

Tucker’s mom looked up and saw Danny standing shyly behind his mom, who waved.

“Hi, I’m Maddie and this is Danny.”

Danny waved.

“Hi! I’m Angela.” She looked back at Sam and Tucker. “You guys made a new friend? I think that’s cause for celebration.”

“We can get ice cream?” Sam asked.

“Yes, we can get ice cream.” Angela said, smiling.

All three kids cheered and started following their moms as they walked out of the park. Ember smiled. While she liked spending time playing with Danny, these were kids his age that he could actually see. She was happy for him.

QQQQQ

“Ghosts aren’t real, man.”

“What do you mean?” Danny asked, a furrow in his brow.

Ember looked away from a book she had finally learned how to pick up and turn invisible after years in the human world to see Danny and his friends looking at each other in frustration.

“Ghosts aren’t real. There’s no scientific evidence of them.” Tucker said, looking back at the tv where their game was paused.

“Well what about my parents' work? Their lifelong passion?”

Tucker shrugged. “There’s gotta be some explanation for whatever findings they have. It can’t be explained by ghosts. Have your parents ever seen a ghost?”

“No but not everyone can see ghosts.”

“Huh?”

“It’s called being clairvoyant.” Sam said. “It encompasses different kinds of things but it can apply to seeing the future or seeing ghosts and other things like that.”

“Do you believe me Sam?” Danny asked.

She shrugged. “It’s something I’d like to believe because I think it’s interesting but I can’t, not without solid proof.”

“But I have solid proof!”

“Okay what is it then?” Tucker asked, putting down his controller.

“I can hear ghosts. I’ve had one living with me for half my life. You know, Ember?”

Sam and Tucker shared a look. “You mean your imaginary friend?” Sam asked.

He shot her a look. “No, she’s not my imaginary friend. She’s a ghost that accidentally fell through a portal from the ghost zone and she’s been my friend ever since.”

Tucker took a deep breath. “No offense, dude, but I think you’ve got whatever your parents have that makes them go off their rockers. It’s probably just all in your head.”

Danny bristled. “I’m not crazy.”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “And I’m the pharaoh Duul Aman. Your parents are crazy. Even Jazz believes that and she’s lived her whole life with them too. Just drop it already. We’re not kids anymore.”

Tucker unpaused the game and after a few moments Danny turned back to the screen stiffly and started playing again.

After that Danny started talking to Ember less and less. She’d ask how his day went at school and she’d hear him mumble something about voices in his head and ghosts, but he didn’t respond to her. Which was fine. Teenagers did that. She was his friend but she could very well be another sort of mother figure to him, so it made sense.

One day when she asked him about his homework he finally exploded on her.

“Stop! Just stop talking! I don’t know if you’re a ghost or not but that’s crazy! Everyone at school thinks my parents are crazy so it must be true. I’m crazy. I’ve let myself believe an imaginary friend that I hallucinate about has been real for too long. It’s time to grow up.”

“Danny-” She started.

“No!” He shouted. “You’re not real! I don’t want to talk to you anymore!”

Ember felt her heart drop into her stomach and she floated away from him. He looked around him, listening for her, before he took a deep breath and went back to his homework that he was working on.

QQQQQ

Ember didn’t stick around at Danny’s house as often anymore. She’d go fly around town on her own more and sometimes went back to the ghost zone for a couple days before another portal opened back up. She had just floated through the walls into the living room for the first time in a week when she heard Danny and his friends talking in the lab.

She felt prickles on her skin. Danny was fourteen now. She didn’t need to watch over him as much anymore. He was old enough to watch over himself now. But she had a bad feeling about the lab. His parents had recently finished building their ghost portal but it ended up not working.

She slowly floated down the stairs, apprehensive about being down there with all the weapons again, but just as she hit the bottom step and looked up, she saw a bright flash of green and heard a scream that rattled her to her very core.

Danny was in the portal, screaming and screaming as the portal turned on around him. Sam and Tucker were shouting his name from outside the portal, tears streaming down their faces.

Ember flew across the lab quickly and was about to reach into the portal but the ectoplasm powering it began to burn her skin. She hissed and pulled her arms away.

After a few more agonizing seconds, the swirling of the portal settled into a more gentle rhythm and when Ember reached out, the burning sensation was gone. She was about to reach in to find Danny when someone tumbled out and onto the floor.

Her heart dropped as she took in their appearance. It must’ve been Danny’s ghost. He was an inverted version of his human self, wearing the jumpsuit his parents had just finished for him two weeks ago.

“Danny?”

Sam’s quiet, croaky voice filled the lab. Danny lay on the floor unmoving for a few moments before he groaned and opened his eyes.

“Sam? Tucker? What happened?”

Sam’s bottom lip wobbled and Tucker stared at Danny with wide eyes. “Danny. I think- I think you-”

Tucker was interrupted as a bright flash of white light appeared and lit up the room. It traveled up and down Danny’s body, revealing a human boy.

“Ugh.” Danny groaned. “That did not help my growing migraine. What was that?”

Ember leaned further over him to get a look at the burns on his face when his eyes opened. He looked at Sam and Tucker first, and then his eyes kept traveling and met her own. His eyes widened and a shocked look appeared on his face, one she could feel mirrored on her own, as he looked straight up at her.

He whispered, his voice small and shaky.

“Ember?”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 21 #phic phight 2021 #Ember McLain #danny fenton #maddie fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #angela foley #johnny 13 #kitty #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic #team ghost

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i-growl-growl-growl · 3 years

Note

reaction box seems open so i’d like to request yandere nct (all member or just older members its up to you) reaction to their SO is depressed and refusing to talk, eat and even drink bc of their actions thankss

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This is a very old reaction request that came in, not a new one. Reactions are still closed!

I did the older members. Hope you enjoy!

~Ahreum Rhea

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Taeil: Taeil will freak out internally and he’d be extremely worried and regretful. He knows that this is his fault, so he’d loosen up a bit and he would allow you to go outside, he’d open windows, stop locking you in the basement, etc. He’d start small, making sure you ate and drank water, talked to him, and just do what he could. If that didn’t work, then he’d get you professional help.

“Jagiya? Y/n? Talk to me! I-..at least take a drink of water. If you do, I’ll let you go outside- we can go for a walk. I’ll take some snacks with us and we can sit at the park, so long as you behave, alright? I’ll bathe you and wash your hair first. I’ll help you be yourself again, you won’t leave me, y/n.”

Taeyong: He would never let anyone around you, not even if you’re going to die. He’ll come up with sick ways to get you to talk or make some sort of noise. Maybe he’ll twist an arm, or an ankle or, better yet, maybe he’ll bring out chains and Don’t want to eat? He’ll feed you through a tube then. Won’t drink? He’ll squeeze your mouth open and force water in then shut it and pinch your nose closed until you drink.

“You’re stupid if you think I’ll let this continue. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive- do I need to kill one of your family members? You know I’ll do it y/n. Still don’t want to talk, huh? Twists your arm behind your back and yanks your hair back toward him, making you scream Ah, that’s better. It’s not words, but it’ll suffice for now. I know many ways to hurt you kitten and you know I don’t hesitate. Now drink roughly sits you down and forces water down your feeding tube.”

Yuta: He’d throw a fit and he’d punish you so bad for doing this to yourself. Truth be told, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what he does, you should learn to deal with it. He wouldn’t stop his punishments either, but he’d do his damn best to prevent you from dying or getting sick. He’d force food and water into your mouth and would prevent you from breathing until you swallow it all. Spit any food or water out and he’d smack you. Refuse to talk? He’ll do what Taeyong would do, cause you great pain.

“I don’t care if you’re depressed, you’re going to eat and you’re going to drink this water or so help me you’ll wise you were dead, y/n. I don’t care that your arm hurts, you deserve it for ignoring me. Keep being defiant and I might just break it! Now eat he forces a few spoonful’s into your mouth then shuts it and pinches your nose, preventing you from breathing. You can breathe once you swallow it all, you should be used to that by now, bitch, or have you also lost your memory?”

Johnny: It would never get this far with Johnny. He’s too smart and too overprotective of his s/o to let her mental and physical state slip this far. The most that would happen is depression. He’ll definitely soften up enough to prevent you from completely losing your mind, but make no mistake, he’ll put you right back in your place if you think this means you get to do whatever you want. Don’t forget who the alpha is.

“Pick a movie, we’re going to go see it. I’m taking you out to dinner at your favorite restaurant as well, afterwards. Yes, seriously. You need to get out, I hate seeing you like this. Don’t think for a second, though, that I won’t bring you right back home and punish you if you act up. I don’t like seeing you so depressed, but I’ll enjoy hearing you scream for me- I already miss it, so don’t tempt me y/n. Give me a kiss then go get ready.”

Doyoung: He’ll have some regrets and he’ll rethink everything as he figures out and learns how to take care of you from home. He’d even take a few days off of work to care for you in the best way he could and be more focused on nursing you back to ‘health’ than punishments. He wouldn’t trust you to be by yourself in the room, so he’d force you to be with him at all times and he’d feed you through a tube. He wouldn’t go as far as Yuta or Taeyoung as far as getting you to talk but he’d slam you against the wall, slap you, grab you too hard, etc. to get a reaction out of you.

“I’m not going into work today, you’ll have to deal with me and I won’t go easy on you. He ties you down while he forces a feeding tube down your throat Since you refuse to eat and drink on your own I’ll force the food and water into you myself. Once you bounce back from this and snap out of it, I’ll remove it, understand?…Grips your forearm and squeezes it hard enough to leave a bruise I’m talking to you y/n. That’s another thing that I’ll have to squash.

Ten: He’d be slightly regretful. He loves knowing that you’ll have to rely on him now for everything, but he does have a job and a life outside. Meaning that he can’t always be with you 24/7. Therefore, he’ll force feed you and force you to drink water before he goes to work. During his lunch break, he’ll come home and, again, force feed you, let you use the bathroom, clean you up, etc. This process would happen after work as well, but he’d also spend time pampering you and talking to you, getting you to slowly come back to him.

“I’ll admit that I love having you rely on me for every little thing now, but I do have other things that I’ve got to do, so I can’t watch you 24/7. Come back to me, love, and I’ll begin lightning your punishments. Maybe I’ll take you outside this weekend and, if you’re good, I might take you on vacation. Make one wrong move and I’ll break you all over again and maybe a bone or two, am I clear?”

Kun: He’d be very conflicted, should he get you some help or should he learn how to take care of you himself? He’d opt for learning how to take care of you himself. He’d do his research and he’d find that he actually likes this line of work, so he’d listen to podcasts, YouTube videos, reading articles, books, etc. Once he’d gotten you back to a healthier state, he’ll begin to heavily manipulate you to believe that he’s the only one you can trust and the only one you have.

“Good morning, sweetie. Don’t worry, you’re safe and everything’s fine. I brought you breakfast, and I’ll put on a movie for you. Just relax and I’ll help you, ok? If you’re a good girl I’ll let you out into the garden and pick some flowers, would you like that? You want to draw outside? Well, it’s going to rain later on, so you can’t stay out for too long. Can’t have you getting sick, ok? Good. Now eat up. I’ll consider lessening my punishments so long as you continue to behave, alright hun? Love you.”

#Yandere #Yandere NCT #NCT Yandere #yandere reactions #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #yandere taeyong

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howtohero · 3 years

Text

#300.1: Saving the World Part 1

Prologue

The Haberdashery

“Hi, my name is Murk. I am a mud monster and a product of mad science, but I am also an accountant and a lover of classical music. For most of my existence I have tried to simply live a regular life in an increasingly strange world.”

The conference room in Hatman’s Haberdashery was filled with all manner of colorfully clad, or just plain colorful, superheroes, super-trainees, monsters, vampires, werewolves, sewer-mutants, Da Vincis and even a smattering of regular civilians who looked tired, angry, but overall fearless. According to Leonardo Da Vinci II, an android duplicate of the original from the far future, there had never been such an eclectic gathering of people in all of history. They had gathered — or been gathered — because the world, and life as they all knew it, hung in the balance. The world’s supervillains, led by a formerly low rate smuggler named Smuggles, had managed to do the unthinkable, they’d taken over the world, and in doing so they’d imprisoned most of the world’s heroes, world leaders, and superhero bloggers, in a secret prison. The oddball assembly was the Resistance, and at the moment each of them had their eyes on Murk. Some looked at him with confusion, he was by far the most eloquent mud monster they’d ever heard. Some looked at him in awe, over the past several weeks, Murk had rescued many of them from danger and had inspired them to join him in his fight. A few looked at him with pride, they knew him from before you see, and as far as they were concerned, that made his heroics their heroics.

(“I know that guy from before,”) Parenthetical Guy whispered to the warthog-mask wearing man sitting to his left. (“And as far as I’m concerned, that makes his heroics my heroics.)

{“I work with that guy, he does my taxes,”} Curly whispered, nudging Hatman who was looking forlornly toward the room’s exit. There were far too many people between him and it, and it was causing him no shortage of distress.

“When the heroes fell,” Murk continued. “It immediately became apparent that I, and many others like me, could no longer afford the luxury of standing to the side. For a long time I, and many of my ‘monstrous’ ilk have been more than happy to allow superheroes to handle the world’s problems for us. Whenever our homes, our lives, our world came under threat we all said to one another, ‘well, that looks like a job for superheroes,’ and we declined to act. When the heroes fell I saw how selfish I had been. And so I would like to be the first to extend my heartfelt thanks, and my sincerest apologies to the brave heroes who have gathered here today. I, along with my partner and friend, Lawyer Guy have gathered as many civilians as we could. Regular monsters and people who have cowered from or turned a blind eye to the acts of the villains who have dared to subjugate us, and we have come here to offer our assistance. If you’ll have us, we would like to help in any way we can.”

His speech concluded, Murk quickly sat down next to Lawyer Guy who smiled warmly at him. A few people sitting near him muttered polite words of affirmation toward the hulking mud man but everyone quickly became silent once more as somebody else strode to the head of the table.

Everybody in the room, everybody in the world, recognized the gold and white costume, the chiseled, stony features, and the piercing blue eyes of Ultiman. He was the superhero par excellence and when he clapped Murk on the shoulder and smiled widely, Murk’s ragtag civilian crew let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Thank you Murk,” Ultiman said. “Thank you everyone. As I’m sure you can see, our numbers are small but our members are dedicated and we are thrilled to be able to count each of you among us. I’m confident that, working together, we can depose Smuggles and his entire Consortium of Crime.”

***

Smuggles’s Secret Prison

My name is Zachary Schechter and I’d been locked up for a while by the time anybody had made any noise about breaking out. You may know me as the creator, author, and only functioning brain behind How To Hero. Actually you definitely know me as that. It’s a very popular blog. Just take my word on this ok? I was in a secret prison because I allowed my subordinates to talk me into hiring a known supervillain to, let’s see, live in our basement and interject unwanted comments into my blog. As it would happen, this supervillain, Smuggles, took the job as part of some kind of protracted and complicated plan to take over the world. I should have seen that coming of course. That’s basically the only reason any supervillain does anything. For a few weeks I was alone there. Just sitting in a cell twiddling my thumbs. Trying to make conversation with the drones they had guarding the place. The only thing they’d given me to eat is fish. I imagine Chuck the Fish Whisperer had something to do with that. Frikkin supervillains and their sycophantic dedication to their own themes. But then a ton of superheroes ended up there with me, and I knew things on the outside had taken a decisive turn for the worse. The heroes were all stripped of their costumes and gear, and were given supervillain costumes instead. It’s all spikes, horns, and red contact lenses now. It’s a bit silly, but I think the idea is that if the heroes are dressed like villains and forced to do things like play evil charades and watch movies about heroes turning bad, then some of them might actually turn evil. Actually, I know that’s the idea, but I’ll get to that later. Eventually Cowboy Rockstar, the coolest hero of all time, decided to stage some kind of jailbreak. Which was great. And he wanted me to help him plan it, probably because of my proven expertise in all manner of superhero related topics. I bet it was my treatise on the many superheroic uses of drills that got his attention. There was just one teeny tiny problem though...

“So what do you think?” Cowboy Rockstar whispered.

“I think… I think that I designed this prison,” I whispered dejectedly.

“I beg your pardon?”

It was recreation time once again, and Giorgio the Evil Mime had selected an assortment of clips of superheroes becoming evil from various films and TV shows. It’s really shocking how many times Hollywood has returned to the well of “a superhero clad in red, white, and blue murders a person.” We must’ve watched like thirty different clips already.

“Look, Mr. Rockstar, I appreciate you coming to me and all. It’s an honor to meet you and plot in hushed voices with you and everything. But I’m like 90% certain that I designed this prison. And I don’t know about you but Iitalics certainly wouldn’t have designed a prison that people could break outitalics of.”

Cowboy Rockstar furrowed his brow, “Ah, you’re saying this prison is… from your blog?”

I held up my hands defensively. “Hey, I know how it sounds but look around you. The costumes, the robots, the charades. It’s literally ripped straight from my post about running your own unsanctioned prison.”

“You wrote a guide to running an off the books blacksite for housing criminals?” Cowboy Rockstar arched an immaculate eyebrow. “That’s not really a very superheroic activity.”

“Huh. When you put it like that it’s really no wonder that the only person who seems to have implemented any of it is a supervillain who seems to have taken over the world.”

“He had help,” I heard somebody grumble from Cowboy Rockstar’s other side.

Helm Lady was one of the only Hatman proteges to both survive to adulthood and continue her career as a superhero, so it was hardly surprising that she’d been able to sneak up on us.

“Helm Lady, good of you to join us!” Cowboy Rockstar said. “Zach over here was just telling me about how he designed this prison to be unescapable! Isn’t that exciting.”

“Hardly,” Helm Lady said glumly.

“I gotta agree with her on this one,” I said.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been given a rare opportunity to outdo yourself in a grandiose and practical way! You’ve been here longer than anybody. It seems like Smuggles has some kind of vendetta against you specifically, and so he’s used your own tactics against you! Now, with our help of course, you can show everybody that you’re smarter than you!” Cowboy Rockstar was gesticulating wildly at this point drawing a sharp and reproachful glare from warden Giorgio.

“Hm,” I said, I had already written a guide to escapology. Maybe I’d already unwittingly outwitted myself. Besides, Smuggles’s prison wasn’t actually an exact copy of the one I’d designed on the blog. He’d had to make some changes to prevent it from having any real rehabilitative value. Dressing the prisoners like villains instead of heroes for instance. And villain costumes are very different from hero costumes. They’re like eighty percent sharp edges. I looked Cowboy Rockstar up and down. The costume they had him in had spikes up and down his arms. Maybe we could use them to pick the locks on our cell? We’d still have to deal with the robot guards and who knows what else. But maybe that was a place to start.

“Ok,” I said after a moment. “I’m sure we can come up with something, after all, as I say

on my blog, when you’re in a locked room, anything can be a key.”

Cowboy Rockstar grinned and gestured around the room at the assorted superheroes that were locked in with us, “And we’ve certainly got an eclectic bunch of keys here haven’t we.”

I smiled and looked around the room, maybe this could actually work.

***

“If I had an iPod and a busted time machine we could do this in a snappy montage and be out in no time,” I grumbled to Cowboy Rockstar.

It was the next day, and our recreation activity was something called “evil baseball.” There’s no batters, no outfield, and the only umpire was a deranged mime. The only real resemblance it had to regular “non-evil” baseball, was the fact that there were four bases, and players could steal bases. In fact, the game was pretty much just stealing bases. Because stealing is a crime get it? Ugh, the sooner we got out of there and stopped Smuggles the better. Cowboy Rockstar was manning first base for his team, and I’d just stolen first. I suspected it was because Helm Lady, the “pitcher” for Cowboy Rockstar’s team, had allowed me to get to first so we could chat. It might have been because I’m really athletic though. It’s hard to say.

“I don’t think that’s how anything works,” Cowboy Rockstar said.

“Oh what do you know?”

“A lot, I’ve unknotted several time paradoxes you know. Some experts even say that I ‘invented’ the current iteration of this timeline.”

“Ah, so this is all your fault.”

“Nice try, I didn’t give Smuggles access to an interdimensional warp gate so he could free his fish whispering friend from his prison.”

“Touche.”

“What have you got?”

“I was thinking, we know that Smuggles has everybody’s powers neutralized inside this prison right?”

“Yes.”

“Well not every hero has powers to begin with,” I started. “And there are few people here with relevant talents that Smuggles can’t turn off.”

“Talents such as?”

Giorgio blew his whistle. Apparently I’d spent too long dawdling at first base without even trying to steal second.

“I guess whistling doesn’t go against the mime code of silence,” I grumbled as I started to edge off of first base.

“Talents such as?” Cowboy Rockstar repeated before I took off.

I nodded towards his team’s second baseman.

“Being a giant rock monster with seven hands,” I said before racing off toward Rockblock.

***

The next night I laid awake, staring up at the ceiling of my cell, going over what was slowly starting to look like a plan again and again. If Cowboy Rockstar could use the many razor sharp spikes on his villain costume to pick the locks on his cell, — and he’d assured me that he could, upside down, in his sleep — and then get to the others, Rockblock could probably serve as our muscle until we got out and the other heroes got their powers back. He’d need to fight off dozens of battle drones though. No, that wasn’t much of a plan. Muscle was great, but we’d need some other way to guarantee the drones would stay off of us until we got outside. I consulted the scrap of paper I had hidden in the palm of my hand, directed away from any prying eyes or cameras. The scrap had been discretely slipped into the pocket of my hoodie by Helm Lady. She’d managed to steal a pencil during Evil Mad Libs, and had taken the liberty of jotting down everybody who we knew was imprisoned here. “Our list of keys,” as Cowboy Rockstar had called it. We needed to keep the circle of people who knew that we were planning a breakout small for now. That way there’d be less of a chance of any villains or drones getting wind of it. So Cowboy Rockstar wanted me to identify anybody who might be especially useful in the actual breakout, whereupon we’d obviously free the rest of the prisoners. I consulted the list again, mentally sorting the manifest into those who had powers, and thus were less likely to be especially useful without the use of them, and those who didn’t have powers, and therefore were pretty much operating at 100% effectiveness. There’s another thing I didn’t account for in my own designs, sucks to be you Smuggles. That’s what happens when you build your top secret superhero prison based on the musings of a comedy blog instead of doing your own work you frikkin goon. I circled a couple of names on my illicit scrap of paper and was just about ready to smugly smile myself to sleep when I noticed a faint buzzing. My first thought was wall bees. You wouldn’t believe how often strange buzzing sounds in the How To Hero office ended up being bees in the wall. But this buzzing was more mechanical and well, I guess it must have been there since I was first thrown into this dump. I had managed to sublimate it into the background noise of my time here but now in the dead of the night I was able to really listen to it finally. I tentatively got off of my threadbare cot and walked the length of my small cell. The buzzing was, as I’d feared, strongest by the door. Which could only mean one thing. Door bees! No, I’m kidding, it meant that the old fashioned deadbolt lock was either just for show, or just one part of the cell doors’ security systems. There was some kind of electronic component as well. One that probably wouldn’t be able to be thwarted with some evil-looking spikes. I looked at my scrap once more, I’d have to have a conversation with one of the other prisoners tomorrow.

***

“Professor Flay,” I whispered as I took a seat next to a glasses-wearing black man decked out in a purple jumpsuit with a skull belt buckle.

“Yes?” the man said, clearly startled, “I’m sorry I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“My name’s Zach, and I’m a fan of your Big Book of Fake Science.”

“Um, are you referring to my Complete Compendium of Improbable Science,” Professor Lucius Flay replied.

“Shoot, is that what it’s called? I knew it was something like that, only my buddy lost the cover and title page in a bet with a supervillain we knew who needed them to power his cover and title page powered doomsday device,” I explained quickly.

Professor Flay flared his nostrils, “And you have the nerve to insinuate that my science is fake. Is there a point to this, I don’t want to miss this performance.”

Our villainous rehabilitation activity for the day was “evil karaoke” only songs with the word “bad” in the title were allowed to be performed. Cowboy Rockstar was currently belting out an honestly breathtaking rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”. It was an especially loud and especially drawn out version of the song, so that Professor Flay and I could converse in relative peace.

“What kind of scientist would you say you are Professor?”

“If you must know, I consider myself to be more or less omnidisciplinary,” Professor Flay said.

“That means you dabble in a little bit of everything right?”

“Everything scientific.”

“And that’s not a superpower thing right? You came by all that knowledge on your own?”

Professor Flay waved a dismissive hand at me, “Of course I did. I studied for years to get to where I am today. Sure I may have had to break a few time travel regulations to do it, but otherwise, I come by my intellect fair and square.”

“Excellent!” I shouted a little too loudly. “This is the best version of ‘Bad Romance’ I’ve ever heard!” I quickly added, to cover myself.

“Yeah it’s so good that they should call it ‘Good Romance!’” Rockblock shouted, no doubt trying to help me out.

Unfortunately though, that was the wrong thing to say. Giorgio the Mime certainly couldn’t allow anything gooditalics to happen in this evil facility, so he quickly put the kibosh on Cowboy Rockstar’s performance, much to the chagrin of everyone else in the room. I thought I even saw a drone flash a frowny face. The drones then started ferrying us out of the room and back to our individual cells.

“How much do you know about electronic locks?” I quickly asked as I pressed my scrap of paper in between Professor Flay’s belt and jumpsuit.

Realization flashed across Professor Flay’s face.

“Ah,” he said. “Enough.”

I hoped he was right.

***

The next day our recreational activity was evil baking. There were several different stations set up in the auditorium, each with ingredients set up to make different evil foods. I ambled past “exploding pies”, “sentient food that will actively beg for its life as you eat it”, and “kale cookies” before taking a seat next to Cowboy Rockstar at the “general poisons” table. Helm Lady and Rockblock were already there, and I noticed Helm Lady was taking special care not to touch any of the ingredients on the table. Rockblock, being made entirely out of stone and cando spirit, began handling the various herbs and toxins and following the recipe. I guess they’d decided that somebody at our table had to be doing something to avoid attracting any unwanted attention.

“Where’s Professor Flay?” I asked.

“He just walked in,” Cowboy Rockstar said, nodding toward the door, where a contingent of drones were herding in another batch of prisoners.

“Over here!” Rockblock bellowed, waving three of his giant hands while the other four mixed and mashed various ingredients.

“Quiet,” Helm Lady snarled. I was beginning to regret bringing Rockblock in on our plans so early.

Still, Professor Flay managed to get the message and made his way over to our table.

“Hello everybody,” he said as he sat down next to Helm Lady. He wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of what Rockblock was mixing in his bowl. “What are we making?”

“Sulfide sausages,” Rockblock replied.

“Lovely.”

“So?” I asked, raising my eyebrow inquisitively at the professor.

Professor Flay glanced around and, confident that there were no drones within listening distance, leaned in conspiratorially.

“I can build the device you described but-”

“Hey guys, sorry I didn’t come right away. I wanted to do a lap to see if there were any other cooler tables,” a pale skinned man clad in black chainmail and sporting thick rimmed glasses said as he sat down at our table.

“Er… what?” I asked.

“I know Rockblock called me over, but I’m not just going to sit down at the first table that offers me a spot, am I?” the other man replied as if that were a perfectly normal thing to say.

“Uh, I was actually talking to Professor Flay,” Rockblock said.

The bespectacled man laughed, “Oh Rockblock, I’d heard your sense of humor was legendary.”

Rockblock looked confused but Helm Lady put a hand on one of his arms.

“What do you want Glassesman?”

“Helm Lady! Great to see you. How’s the old man?”

“We don’t talk.”

“Oh, is that right? Poor Hats never could keep a protege.”

“Glassesman.” I said, interjecting before things escalated. “You weren’t on the list. When did you get here?”

“Oh, just recently. I wasn’t captured with the rest of you in the first wave.”

Cowboy Rockstar ignored the jab and leaned forward. “Are you saying that Smuggles has found whatever resistance there is? Where’s Ultiman?”

“Keep your ten-gallon hat on buckaroo, the resistance is fine such as it is. I was deep undercover in Smuggles’ operation, but I got found out.”

“No surprise there. You probably started handing out promotional sunglasses to all the villains as soon as you got in there,” Helm Lady muttered.

“Hey, supervillains are a market I have yet to break into. This was a rare networking opportunity for me!”

What a tool.

“Enough,” Cowboy Rockstar said, making sure to keep his voice even.

“What’s with all the hushed tones,” Glassesman said, looking us all up and down.

“Ah,” he said when he’d completed his appraisal. “You’re planning a break out.”

“No we’re n-” Helm Lady started but Glassesman held up his hand.

“Oh please, you’ve got a scientist, a jack-of-all-trades, a bruiser, a non-powered combatant and a…” he faltered when he got to me.

“Blogger,” I said curtly.

Glassesman raised an eyebrow but kept going, “So don’t try to keep me out of this, I’m non-powered too, and I can fight better than a Hatb- sorry exitalics-Hatboy any day of the week.”

Cowboy Rockstar looked as though he was going to say something to get rid of Glassesman but he just sighed and gestured to Professor Flay.

“Fine, sure. Professor you were saying?”

“Um, well, yes. I can build the… device, you asked for but I can’t do it from thin air. I need something to work from.”

We all sat in silence for a moment. I guess it was too much to ask for an omni-disciplinaryitalics super-scientist to be able to whip up an EMP device out of whatever he could find in his prison cell. I’d be sure to inform whatever board certifies omni-disciplinary scientists to amend an asterisk to Professor Flay’s credentials when we got out of here.

“Could you build it out of whatever those things are made of?” Glassesman said, jerking a thumb towards one of the drones.

Professor Flay appraised it, “It appears to run on a lithioplasmic core with a carbon-electrum chassis. Assuming there’s a terrakon multispacial chip rattling around in or near its processor… Yes, I wouldn’t even need too much of it. Just a chunk from the chest if I had to guess.”

“Excellent,” Glassesman said before he stood up and flipped over our table. “And you can tell that cap clad crank that I’m twice the hero he ever was!”

Helm Lady smirked and wordlessly lunged at him, wrapping her long fingers around his neck. Professor Flay and I quickly took cover behind the table. Flay because he was a nerd and wasn’t about to get involved in a fist fight between two highly trained combatants. And me to protect Flay naturally. We needed him fit enough to build us the EMP, I couldn’t exactly leave him. Cowboy Rockstar jumped on Glassesman’s back and tried to pull him away while Rockblock scrambled to gather up the ingredients from his poison. A stray pellet of congealed arsenic bounced over to me and I scooped it up into my hoodie. You never know, right?

In a minute several drones were trundling over to our little group trying to break up the fight. They’d just about managed to pry Cowboy Rockstar, Glassesman and Helm Lady apart when Rockblock let out a deafening roar and joined the fray, sending a handful of drones flying as he growled something incoherent about how hard he’d been working on perfecting his recipe. By this time the other assembled heroes were all looking toward us, but before anybody else could get any ideas about joining the riot, more drones than I’d even realized were in the prison poured into the auditorium and surrounded my friends. Finally managing to pull them apart.

The rest of the heroes, myself and Professor Flay included, were now being rounded up by some of the drones while most of them were being engaged by six of Rockblock’s giant fists. As we walked by though, I noticed his seventh appendage experly flick a chunk of metal in our direction. I stumbled slightly, bending over quickly to grab the robot chunk. And then discretely passed it to Professor Flay before we were split off to return to our own cells.

“I’ll have it done before tonight,” he said to me as he palmed the misshapen blob of metal and wiring.

I nodded and smiled, by that time tomorrow we’d be out of that forsaken prison and saving the world.

***

Night fell, and I paced anxiously around the length of my cell. Assuming Professor Flay was able to work as quickly as he claimed he was able to. And assuming Rockblock had gotten him exactly what he needed. And assuming Cowboy Rockstar and Glassesman and Helm Lady were able to pick the locks on their cells when the time came. And assuming Rockblock could keep any guards off of us. And assuming- Well, there were a lot of assumptions before I’d be tasting fresh air. Our plan was hardly fool proof, and we had at least two or three fools on our team, depending on who you asked. We were making a few too many assumptions for my liking. But it was the best we had, so I guess that was that. There was nothing I could do except wait for something to happen.

And when something happened, everything happened.

First there was a deafening boom, followed by a shockwave that traveled quickly throughout the cell block. If I hadn’t been deafened by the explosion, I would have noticed that the electronic buzzing I’d heard had gone silent. Professor Flay’s homebrewed EMP had worked. I ran to the door and saw several guard drones collapsed on the ground. Their cybernetic features were blank.

Seconds later three cell doors swung open and Cowboy Rockstar, Helm Lady, and Glassesman strode out. Glassesman looked especially smug, even though he was the last one out. The other two were such pros, they decided to let it slide. They quickly started working on picking the locks on the other cells. Helm Lady sprung Rockblock first, just in case there were any drones outside the EMP’s radius that might’ve been trundling our way. Professor Flay’s EMP was a one-shot kind of deal so we’d have to fight or evade any other drones we encountered.

“So far so good eh?” Cowboy Rockstar grinned as he unlocked the door to my cell.

“So far, yeah,” I said anxiously. “We’re pretty much flying blind from here on out th- Woah!”

I took a step back into my cell as Cowboy Rockstar became enveloped in a brilliant white light. I stood agape as he began hovering a few inches off the ground and the light faded into his body.

“What was that?” I asked.

Cowboy Rockstar landed adroitly on the ground and checked his pulse with two of his fingers.

“It’s… I think the EMP must have shorted out whatever device was neutralizing our powers in here,” Cowboy Rockstar said. His fists began crackling with energy.

I looked up and down the hall of cells. Powerful glows or crumpled cell doors told me that many of the other heroes were starting to regain access to their powers.

“Well that certainly changes the game,” I said as I began taking stock of all of the new keys we’d just acquired.

***

We quickly divided into a few teams:

Team One: Nightron, Foresight P. Jones, and Intangi-Bill. None of us had been outside since we’d arrived in the prison and so none of us actually knew where the exit was. Team one would use their respective speed, supervision and intangibility in concert to find a way out.

Team Two: Cowboy Rockstar, Rockblock, and Cannonballer: Baller of Cannons. Our heavy hitters. If anybody could break straight through the walls that surrounded us to the outside it was them.

Team Three: Professor Flay, Electrobug, Digitalized, Psionica. They set about trying to cobble together weapons and gear from the broken husks of the drones that we had at our disposal.

Team Four: Captain Patriot, Brad the Radioactive Man, Amphin, Glassesman, Helm Lady and the Human Wall. The best offense is a strong defense, and if any of our other teams were going to have any hope of doing what they needed to do, they’d need somebody keeping Giorgio and whatever drones he could scrounge together off of their backs.

Team Five: Dr. Hemer, Knife Knurse, and Super Surgeon. A lot of heroes were suffering painful side-effects either from the sudden reemergence of their superpowers or the power-deprivation they’d been suffering since they’d gotten here. Anybody who had any sort of medical knowledge would tend to them until we get help on the outside.

Team Six: Just me. My job was to come up with the team names and I’m not ashamed to admit that I totally phoned it in.

I was sitting back and taking stock of the other teams’ progress when a gust of wind informed me of Nightron’s return.

“We’re not the only prisoners here,” he said panting, parts of his supervillain costume were singed, he must have encountered other guards elsewhere in the facility.

“You’re sure?” I asked frantically. I’m not sure why it had never occurred to me that there might be other prisoners somewhere in this facility. But I had only ever seen the heroes that were in that corridor at communal recreational events.

“Positive, there are maybe five or six other cell blocks just like this one. They’ve got dozens of other superheroes here. But that’s not all. World leaders, para-folk, some civilians. I think I even saw some sort of zoo,” Nightron said.

“Probably for animal sidekicks and the like,” I mused aloud. “Were you followed back here?”

“No, but they saw who I was. I’m sure they know where I’m supposed to be. It won’t be long before we have company here.”

“You’re right. Professor, how are those weapons coming!” I shouted towards where Team Three was working.

“My EMP seems to have worked a little too well, there’s no resteoring powers to these machines, but Psionica has managed to use her telekinetic abilities to reform some chunks of metal into clubs.”

“That’ll have to do,” I said. “Nightron, grab a few of those clubs, if anybody comes you’ll join Team Four. Hit them hard and hit them fast.”

“But what about the other prisoners?” Nightron protested.

“We need to break ourselves out before we can worry about anybody else,” Glassesman said.

“I hate to admit it but he’s right,” Helm Lady agreed.

“Yeah but-” and then, in a whoosh he was gone, because it was at that moment that a platoon of drones filed into our hallway. Two of them hit the ground, their CPUs bashed in by Nightron, before the rest of us even registered what was happening but once we did, the rest of Team Four, sprung into action.

“Zach, over here,” Professor Flay called.

I ran over to him, he passed me a makeshift club and we formed a defensive ring around our medics and the wounded along with the rest of Team Three.

“We are through!” Cannonballer: Baller of Cannons cried.

We helped Team Five get to the large gap in the wall that Team Two had formed as Rockblock and Cowboy Rockstar went to join the fray in the corridor.

“We may have problem,” Cannonballer: Baller of Cannons muttered to us as we joined her outside.

Problem was an understatement. For one thing, the sky was a murky blend of purples, oranges, and reds, and I know I haven’t been doing a ton of “world-building” in this dramatic account of my escape from a supervillain run supermax, but the sky we were all used to seeing was definitely blue. The ground we were standing on was somehow both dusty and crumbly. Every step we took sent a cloud of dust and ground flakes into the air. And we couldn’t see any other signs of life or civilization anywhere at all. I had always assumed that we would be somewhere inconspicuous but local, so that Smuggles could keep an eye on us, but it appeared as though we were in the middle of nowhere with no way of getting to the middle of anywhere.

“What… What is this place?” Professor Flay said.

“Beats me,” I said with a shrug. When I designed this prison for How To Hero I recommended finding a large unused building with reinforced walls that was situated in a place that no cops would ever be caught dead anywhere near. There are literally four or five places like that within a twenty block radius of How To Hero headquarters so where the hell were we. Unless… crap.

“Atomspace,” I said. “We’ve been shrunken down and sent to a prison in Atomspace.”

“Well,” Professor Flay said, taking in our otherworldly surroundings. “That creates a wrinkle in our plans doesn’t it.”

“It certainly does,” I agreed.

And that’s when everything went black.

***

I awoke, chained to a chair, in what may very well have been the most garishly decorated room I had ever seen. And Parenthetical Guy once painted our office neon green and creamsicle orange so that was saying something. The walls were all a deep blood red and there were various supervillainous accoutrements mounted all over the walls. Scary looking masks, futuristic blasters, esoteric looking staffs. A giant serpent’s head wearing oversized sunglasses was mounted on the wall directly opposite me. Below the serpent head sat an ornate, obsidian desk with a high backed leather chair behind it. The carpet was the color of rotting bones, which made a lot of sense when I realized that it wasn’t really a carpet at all, but rather a mat made entirely of very thin bone fragments. Bone fragments that were incredibly sharp at the ends.

“Ouch!” I yelped as I lifted my feet slightly off of the ground.

“Well look who’s finally awake,” a snide voice to my left said.

I turned my head and my heart dropped. Joining me in this chilling chamber were the rest of my friends: Cowboy Rockstar, Helm Lady, Professor Flay and Glassesman were chained to chairs like mine while Rockblock’s hulking form was chained to the wall on the far side of the room. The humans in the chairs also had their feet up in various positions. Rockblock was stuck standing on the bone floor, but at least he didn’t seem to mind.

“What happened?” I asked groggily.

“We were all knocked unconscious after we broke through the prison walls,” Professor Flay explained. “Cerebral implants I’d guess.”

“You’re saying we were all chipped?” I said, bewildered. “That’s crazy. Why weren’t we all knocked out as soon as we broke out of our cells?”

“Because I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized you were in Atomspace.”

All of our heads snapped towards the door where a man wearing a dark gray catsuit, a bright orange domino mask, and heavy metal boots strode into the room. “Do you like how I’ve decorated? Greg the Skeleton King referred me to his interior design guy.”

“That explains the bones,” Helm Lady muttered.

“And the hellfire!” Cowboy Rockstar proclaimed. “From right before we were captured, I’d been wondering about that.”

“Smuggles,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Zachary,” he said curtly. “Mr. How To Hero himself, how does it feel to be so utterly defeated by someone you’ve spent years ridiculing on your infantile blog?”

“I’ll let you know when it happens,” I said.

“Always with the clever little jokes,” Smuggles said as he took a seat in the leather chair and steepled his fingers. “You have been utterly defeated though. I’ve been following your little escape attempt from the very beginning. My people are not idiots you know. We’ve been listening to every conversation, watching your every move. The riot in the cafeteria was especially amusing.” He nodded at Rockblock who just grunted in response. “Quite frankly, you got further than I expected you to. But I’m glad you did, because now you have to admit that I’ve completely bested you. You’ve been thoroughly trounced Zachary. Who’s the laughingstock now?”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to think of a way out of this for myself and my friends, when Glassesman burst out laughing. Smuggles’s eye flashed with rage and he slammed a hand down on his desk.

“I’m sorry, is something amusing here?”

“No no… Well yeah, sorry, it’s just… You got every supervillain to band together, captured most of the superheroes, and basically took over the entire world just to get back at some low rate blogger?”

“Hey, uncalled for!” I shouted.

“I’m sorry it’s just a bit ridiculous don’t you think?”

“Honestly, I kind of agree with him,” Helm Lady said sheepishly.

“I legitimately thought this whole thing was about me,” Cowboy Rockstar admitted. “I’m kind of a big deal you know, being a semigod and all that.”

“Don’t you mean demigod?” Professor Flay asked, doing a little wiggle shake to get his chair facing Cowboy Rockstar.

“Oh, I’m that too. But I’m talking about the cult I inadvertently inspired that has deified me,” Cowboy Rockstar explained.

Smuggles banged his fist down on his desk again.

“Enough!” he shouted, before cradling his fist in his other hand. “Now that your merry band has been epically thwarted and humiliated, I must decide on your punishment. I’m not about to risk you lot plotting another breakout.”

My mind started racing for a way out. This was the first time I had come face to face with Smuggles since he’d unleashed Chuck the Fish Whisperer in the How To Hero basement. Until now I hadn’t realized just how much of what was happening revolved around me. I didn’t even realize Smuggles had been familiar with my blog before we hired him. Maybe I could work with that.

“Do your worst Smuggles. I guarantee you it won’t be anything worse than what actual villains have done to me,” I said, affixing my most smug expression on my features.

“What are you talking about?” Smuggles said, clearly thrown.

“I mean come on. I lived with a real supervillain before. Remember Dr. Brainwave?”

“Wait, what?” Helm Lady said. “You lived with Dr. Brainwave? We’ve been looking for him for years!”

“Yeah well I don’t know what to tell you,” I said.

“Brainwave was a sentimental hack. Killing him was child’s play.” Smuggles said through mounting anger.

I faltered for a moment. So Smuggles had been the one who had mailed that bomb to our office? He was the reason Dr. Brainwave was dead? Sure the guy was a supervillain, but at the end of the day he had been my… my friend. And he’d sacrificed his life to save mine and my friends’. The fact that I was sitting less than three feet away from his murderer was almost too much to bear. Still, there’d be plenty of time to deal with him later. Assuming my plan worked.

“Still before you killed him he made my life miserable. You’ve read my blog, I’m sure you know all about it. So I honestly doubt that anything you plan to do can compare.”

Smuggles literally shook with rage, “I can… I can killitalics you! You ever think about that?”

Cowboy Rockstar grinned, “Good luck with that.”

Ok, honestly I’m not sure what thatitalics was about. Is Cowboy Rockstar immortal? Has anybody ever checked that? Regardless, I decided to just roll with it.

“Do your worst.” I said.

“Guys!” Glassesman shouted exasperated. “I love taunting a bad guy as much as the next guy, but maybe we should all ease up a bit!”

“Oh relax,” I said. “Smuggles is a Z-lister trying to kick it with the big kids. He can’t just shoot us or something. If he wants to be a world-dominating evil monster he’s going to have to come up with a suitably ostentatious way to kill us and honestly, he doesn’t have the imagination. Just look at his face, this is clearly eating at him.”

It was as though a lightbulb went off over Smuggles’s head. His face warped from grimace to grin and he strode around to the other side of his desk.

“I’ve already succeeded in taking over the world and routing your beloved superheroes. I hardly need to prove myself to the likes of you. You can expect to be executed in a ‘suitable ostentatious manner’ shortly.”

I was all read to shoot back a witty retort when everything went black again.

***

I awoke to the sound of cheering, which made me feel pretty good. I don’t often get cheered for waking up. I’m sure Cowboy Rockstar was feeling pretty regular though, people cheer for everything that guy does. I was in the center of a gladiatorial arena, the stands were packed with guard drones and more than a few supervillains. The presence of so many of them here sent a shiver down my spine. Had Smuggles really been able to recruit and control so many supervillains? Next to me, my friends laid in a rumpled heap, all of them still unconscious with the exception of…

“Now look what you’ve done,” Professor Flay said sternly.

I turned to look at him and saw the abject fear sketched across his features.

“Relax Prof, everything’s going to be ok.”

“How can you say that! Look at us! We’re in an arena surrounded by bloodthirsty supervillains for god’s sake!”

“It’s not the supervillains you should be worrying about, it’s whatever’s going to come out of that gate,” I said, pointing to a massive (well, massive relative to our shrunken selves) gate directly opposite us.

Professor Flay shuddered, “I imagine the others are still unconscious to prevent them from being able to do anything against whatever that might be.”

I nodded, “It makes sense, Smuggles doesn’t want to risk anything going wrong.”

“But I still want the satisfaction of watching at least some of you soil yourselves in fear,” Smuggles said as his smug visage appeared on a floating jumbotron that was hovering over the arena.

“You’ll never get away with this you knave!” Professor Flay shouted.

“Oh Professor, I already have. I think I’ll make today an international holiday going forward,” Smuggles said as he leaned back from the camera so we could see his entire upper body on the screen. He was sitting on a golden throne and his fingers were hovering above a big red button. I assumed whatever was waiting behind the gate would be released at the press of that button. And why prolong the inevitable.

“Why don’t you come down here so I can wipe that smug expression off of your face, you absolute goober!” I called up to Smuggles.

Smuggles frowned, “Goodbye Zach, you will not be missed.”

His finger pressed the button. The gate started to ascend. Professor Flay sighed and rolled up his sleeves. I had to admire him, he wasn’t planning on going down without some sort of fight. As the gate rose the cheers of the crowd grew even more fevered. I think I even saw a sign that said “Cowboy Suckstar.” Rude. After what seemed like an eternity the gate was finally fully open and a ferocious roar shook the stadium as a massive beast lumbered into the arena. The ginormous monster truly had it all. Dozens of eyes, face tentacles, spikes, a flaming tail. I had to admit this would certainly be a suitably ostentatious way to die. Of course, I wasn’t about to let Smuggles get his way was I?

“Good god what is that thing?” Professor Flay said as he backed away from the giant monster.

“It’s our way out,” I said calmly as I climbed on top of Rockblock’s comatose body, put two fingers in my mouth and whistled sharply.

“What are you doing?” Professor Flay shouted at me as the monster began galloping towards us on all fours.

I looked down at Professor Flay and smiled, “See you on the other side Prof.”

And then the monster ate me.

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camistired · 3 years

Text

the peculiar one

chp. 3 // welcome to river-hell

not edited

january 23, 2019

word count: 3138

song: antidote by faith marie

one / two

I couldn't sleep. The feeling of dread washed over me, making my eyes stay stapled open as I lay on my back. The soft sound of the TV show I was watching on my phone bounced off the walls but never met my ears. All I could think of is what will happen in the few hour ahead.

I didn't hate school, surprisingly. I do excellent in my class besides the two I seemed to take a little longer to comprehend. It was the people at the school that made me feel this way. The whole group of people that I knew to be there, it all just seemed like a scene from 'Heather's' or 'Mean Girl's'.

Either way, I was not willing to be Cady or Veronica in this situation. I turn over to see my phone had turned off. I got out of bed and walk over to my bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet to grab my sleeping pills. I take one, seeing as I already took my dosage earlier and it was still not even working. I lay back down and eventually lost myself in a dream world. And a strange one at that.

I open my eyes to see myself in a basement of sorts. I gag as the smell of blood and rotten blood fill my nose. I look around to find an empty chair, ropes loosely hung around the back of it. I hear the faint sound of crying making me turn to see a woman with her head hung low.

When she looked up, her face was impossible to identify. It's as if the world scratched out her face to show absolute nothing. Her cries seemed to echo off the walls louder. Footsteps slowly made their way down, only to be met with another faceless person. It's as if the world didn't want me to see that these people were out there, somewhere, in the world.

The womans cries and got louder and louder, my ears ringing as it seemed to get to a pitch only a dog could here. Than it all just- stopped. The cries were gone, the scratches on their faces seemed to be changing hues every second, and the room slowly turned into nothingness.

My eyes pop open as I stare at my ceiling. The only words coming to mind were; what the fuck? Obviously sleep deprivation and my imagination are never a good mix for dreams. I look over at the clock on my wall to see it's only 6:17.

I groan inwardly and have up on sleep. What's the point? I'll have to get up in an hour anyways. I sit up and decide to rewatch 'The Breakfast Club'. It's genuinely one of my favorite movies from the eighties. Hell- one of my favorite movies in general.

I sat silently as I watch the opening as I relate to certain things and people. Obviously I relate myself more to Allison, being a bit of a basket case myself, but I can easily put myself in the others perspective. I also silently wish I could have a group of friends like theirs. Seemingly strangers with nothing in common, to all of a sudden be close to the hip and making jokes about each other's difference's. Who wouldn't want that?

I eventually get lost in the teen drama that I didn't even notice the sun rise or it being nearly an hour an twenty minutes later until my dad knocked on the door and peeked his head inside my room.y head popped up and I lock eyes with him, smiling softly. I pause movie as I focus on his words, unfortunately only catching the end of his sentence.

"- So with that being said, are you excited for your first day of high school?" he asked and all I can do is nod.

"Yea, I am. Who knows, maybe my nerves are just everywhere for nothing?" I try to be optimistic about today, but I'm just uneasy.

He smiles assuringly and giving me a thumbs up before turning out of the room and leaving, closing the door behind him. I quickly hop out of bed, and decide to pull on just some black jeans and a green t-shirt. I lace up my boots as another knock was heard, but this time by the window. Luna hissed from under my bed, making me chuckle.

I stood up and see Jughead by my window with a goofy smile on his face. I roll my eyes and open the window for him, "There's a front door you know."

"I know, but where's the fun in that?" He responds, climbing through my window with ease.

I roll my eyes, grabbing my glasses and sliding them on my face. "But if you use the front door, it doesn't look like I'm trying to sneak you into my room."

"You know a couple years ago you would have said something different." He chuckles at me as I stick my tongue out at him.

"That's then, this is now." I grab my backpack and pet Luna as she jumps on my bed.

Jughead went to do the same but instead he only got hissed at. He immediately retracts his hand and I laugh softly at the scene before me. "Don't take it personal, she doesn't like people."

"She likes you." he points out, heading towards the door. "I swear it's like somehow, someone was able to put your personality into a cat."

"Well I'd like to meet that person one day and thank them." I cut in front of him to head downstairs. I'm immediately hit with the smell of food. I sit my bag down at the leg of the dark wooden table. I grab a plate and grab a bit of everything that was available. I sit down at the table and start eating.

"You know not to expect this everyday, right?" Lila tease as she sits down across from me with her own plate of food. I nod to her as I continue to eat.

"Can I at least expect this every now and then?" Jug ask as he sat down next to me. His tone was teasing, but I knew he was almost completely serious.

"Sure Jug. Just let me know when you decided to move in with us and when you decided you get to choose what's for breakfast." Mar joined the teasing as she sat down next to Lila, who was stifling her laughter while also trying not to choke on her food.

"Okay, would you prefer a day or week's notice before I start to move in?" He asks his cousin after swallowing his food. I let out a small squeal while trying to stifle my laughter, only to cough as I choked on my food.

I heard a burst of laughter around me, only making me laugh more after I stopped coughing. After everything has calmed down, Jughead, Daniel, and I headed off to school. Daniel actually met up with a friend of his half way there, so now it was just me and Jug.

The silence between the two of us was a bit tense, but not knowing from what we didn't act on it. We slowly approached the school, the tension only seemed to be rising. Maybe I was the only one to truly acknowledge it causes when we walked through the doors of the school, he smiles as if nothing was wrong and offered to take me to the office to get my stuff.

I trailed slightly behind him as he lead the way to the office. The tension still there but than again it seems like I'm the only one to truly notice it.

Mabe it's just my nerves? That'd make sense, right?

I got my schedule and Jug offered to show me to my locker. I thought about this tour around Riverdale High, but I decided not to attend seeing if I needed directions, I'm sure Jug wouldn't mind showing me.

We had a few more minutes before class started so me and Juggie just stayed by our lockers – which were right across from each other's. We talked as if whatever I thought was wrong, wasn't wrong. It was if I imagined it all, and maybe I did. However, I felt much better now than I did walking to the school.

And before I knew it, class had started.

☾

I wasn't sure how I ended up where I did. I had lost Jughead a while ago, so now I'm sitting next to Archie with Daniel sitting behind me with his friends. Students were told to go to the gymnasium for something about a school dance that I honestly don't know of I cared about or not.

I look up front to see Cheryl standing at the podium, staring at the crowds of teens.

"Let's have a moment of silence for Jason." The room falls silent. I look up around, seeing if I can find Jughead, only to make eye contact with him as he shifts before looking back at his laptop.

"Thank you for that moment of silence. Many of you were lucky enough to have known my brother personally. Each and everyone of you meant the world to Jason. I loved my brother. He was and always will be my soulmate. So I speak with a confidence only a twin could have. Jason wouldn't want us to spend the year mourning." I make eye contact with Jug once more, after he finishes rolling his eyes.

"Jason would want us to move on with our lives. Which is why I've asked the School Board to not cancel the Back-to- School semiformal." The room erupts in cheers as I look over at Archie as he maked eye contact with a younger teacher.

"But rather, to let us use it as a way to heal, collectively, and celebrate my brother's too, too short life on this moral coral. Thank you all." Cheryl finishes as everyone seemed to clap. I watch as Cheryl walka away, letting everyone clean out the gymnasium before lunch started

☾

I sit under a tree at lunch time, surprisingly, not with Jughead. We got seperated as everyone was piling on top of each other to get out of the gym. I was looking down, drawing, as I heard someone approach me.

I slowly look up and my eyes meet with an unfamiliar brown pair.

"Hi. I'm Veronica Lodge. And who might you be?" She introduces herself, smiling brightly down at me.

"Uh.. Alexandria. Nelson." I reply, timidly. I knew who she was and who her parents were. It's probably weird that I know so many things about these teens parents, and they don't even know the half of it.

"That's a pretty name," Her smile never fell, in fact I'm pretty sure it grew when I hummed a small 'thank you', "You're welcome. Anyways, I saw you over here alone and wanted to invite you to come sit with me and my friends."

I look over at the table she was sitting at and see that Betty and Kevin staring over at us before I look up at her again.

I'm probably about to make a big mistake..

"Sure. Beats sitting here alone."

I gather my stuff and follow her back to the table with Betty and Kevin. I wave slightly as I sit down and take my sketchbook out again, and decide to continue some old family pictures.

There was an awkward silence, that I was blind to Betty and Kevin sat shifting from my presence at the table. Veronica glared at them as she probably thought that I didn't notice. However, I did notice but didn't show it.

Someone cleared their throat and I look up to see it was Veronica. I sit up straight and place my pencil on the table, turning slightly to look at her.

"So. I have a few questions. If you feel uncomfortable, you don't have to answer."

I nod slightly. She seems nice, nothing like her supposed manipulative father that I've heard about.

She smiles slightly and looks at my book, "So.. You're an artist?"

I nod once more, "Yeah, I guess. Right now I'm just drawing an old picture of my mom bwck when she was in high school. It just helps keep my mind of things."

I slid my book towards her and show her the picture I'm recreating. I'm currently on the details, already having the main base line work done.

She nods before grabbing the photo and analyze it, before putting it down and points at my mom, who was in the middle between my dad and Alice.

"Is that your mom?" She asks hesitantly. Noticing her being tence about asking the question, I just smile softly.

"Yeah.. That is."

"She's very beautiful."

"Thank you." I sigh slightly, "Her beauty ran throughout her. She was kind to everyone.. She thought everyone deserved a second chance.. Hell, push your luck, you may even got a third. She protected the ones she loves. Sometimes I don't even know how I could be someone better than her."

I shake my head as I stare at the picture. I feel tears welling up in my eyes as I stare at her. Ehat sucks is that she could be dead somewhere and we wouldn't even know. She's been gone for years, and no one knows what could have happened.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Veronica panicked as she saw the tears fall down my face.

I shrug it off, wiping the tears away, "You didn't do anything. You have no reason to apologize."

I take the picture from her and place it back in my sketchbook.

"Thanks for inviting me, Veronica.. But I think I've over stayed my welcome." I glance over to the two looking at me before I say my goodbyes and got up to go hide somewhere.

I walk into the building and I find yhe music room empty. I look around before walking inside, closing the door behind me. I place my stuff by the door – after I grab my notebook – and go over to the piano, running my fingers over the keys. I sit down on the bench, sitting my notebook out in front of me.

I slowly start to play the piano as everything slowly started to become natural again. I smile softly before closing my eyes as I let my hands run over the keys.

"Finding refuge in my own lies.. ‘How are you?’ ‘I'm doing alright’.. Small talk is a great disguise– just let me be, just let me be.." I sang softly as I played the notes on the piano, "Empty thoughts start cloud my mind.. Am I only living, living to survive? Shake it off, but I lost the drive– just let me be, just let me be.. Let me be o-kay.

"No knows what goes on up inside my head.. There's a new kind of poison and it's starting to spread. No knows what goes on up inside my head, they don't think I need help but I'm scaring myself.. I just want be okay.. I just want to be ok."

I lost myself in the song, I didn't even notice the door open to whomever noticed me singing.

"All the voices in my head are coming to life.. They're getting louder and I'm, I'm terrified..! How do you tunf tom your own mind? Is this what I've become? Take back, what have I.. done?"

I didn't even noticed that I've started crying until a tear fell on my hand. I pull my hands away from the keys to wipe my face, chuckling to myself. I let the room become quiet before clapping was heard from behind me. I instantly pop up, making the bench fall at my sudden movement, as I look into a familiar pair of bluish green eyes, making my releax a bit.

"How long have you been there?" I ask, immediately fixing the bench before grabbing notebook and shoving it back in my bag. Jughead smirked teasingly.

"I didn't know you could sing." He dodge the question, looking at me sling my bag over my shoulder.

"You didn't answer my question, Jones." I pressed as I look at my shoes timidly. Anything seemed more interesting than the teasing male in front of me.

"How have I known you for years, but never realise you could sing?" At this point, he seemed genuinely confused. He was no longer teasing, but seemed more disappointed in himself for reason.

"It's something I did to help calm my nerves for a short while. As well as playing the piano." He nods and wraps a arm around my shoulder, "Let's go get this day ocer with."

☾

"So, Pop's?" Juggy asks as we walk along the bleachers outside. It was after school hours, it was still open due to after school activities. We just decided to stick due to pure boredom.

"Jug, you practically live at Pop's. You can wait another thirty minutes." I tease him as he groans playfully, making me laugh softly.

"Hey, Alex!" I hear someone call. Me and Jug turn to see Ronnie waving her down, in her new Riverdale Vixens cheer outfit, next to Betty, who is also wearing her outfit.

"Ronnie. Hi! What's up?" I call back, using my hand to keep the sun out of my eyes.

"Are you coming to the semiformal?" She asks, curiously.

"I dunno! School dances aren't really my thing!" I reply, squinting my eyes as my hand doesn't do much protections for my eyes.

"What do you mean? From what I heard, you're last school dance was probably a school Christmas party!"

"She's got you there." Jughead mumbles in my ear, making me elbow him in the stomach. "Ow!"

"C'mon! You can even bring mister Jason Dean behind you!" She points over to the beanie clad boy behind me.

"I'll think about it! I'll let you know my answer later!"

She nods before walking away with Betty. I turn to continue walking with Jug.

"Another school dance. Maybe this one can make up for the Valentine's Day one." He jokes.

"Is it wrong I wanna go?" I whisper, hoping he wouldn't hear, but he's right next to me, so of course he does.

"No. It's not." He stops and turns to me, "Let's make a deal. If I go with you to the dance, we have to leave early and go to Pop's."

I nod, "I'm ok with that."

He smiles as I smile back. He wraps his arm around my shoulders as we walk towards the actual school building, going inside to end the school day.

#riverdale season one #riverdale #jughead jones x ofc #jughead jones #original female character #veronica lodge #betty cooper #kevin keller #cheryl blossom #angst #fluff #slow burn #mutual pining #archie andrews

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trashcanband4 · 5 years

Text

The Loser

Imagine Daryl getting mad when Negan takes a liking to you.

Title: The loser. Warnings: None. Pairing: Darylxreader. Word count: 2,844. Setting: Alexandria a few months after Negan get’s put into the cell.

You had been the one caring for Negan for a few months now and while you still hated the guy with everything in you for the most part the exchanges between you had been pleasant. Yes he was a horrible, heinous human being and he didn’t have a heart, but you did. And it made it hard to see a human being locked behind bars for forever. He wasn’t even allowed to walk around outside in the fresh air. Even the most evil of animals didn’t deserve to be locked up for forever. If a dog bit a human it was most commonly understood that the dog was just be shot. Wasn’t Negan just a human version of a rabid dog with rabies? Why didn’t the council just kill him like they would a rabid dog?

So you hated going down to that dim dirty basement and seeing the down-in-the-dumps man three times a day. You hated that you pitied him. “Hi.” You chimed as you walked in with a paper plate containing a sandwich and a bottle of water.

“Ah, y/n, my favorite person. What’s for lunch today? Please tell me it’s not another grilled eggplant. That shit sucked ass.” He said with a slight lean back where he had moved to stand at the bars next to the tray slot.

“Egg, avocado and lettuce sandwich.” You said as you handed him the plate through the slot.

You could tell he was about to complain, but when his eyes caught yours he smiled and took the plate out of your hand. “Thanks.”

“You’re allowed to complain you know. Lord knows I would be if I were in there.” You said as you sat down in the chair that sat against the stone wall in the room.

“If you were in here with me? Na I don’t think you’d be doin’ much complainin’.” When you looked up from the sketch pad in your hands he winked at you. You felt a blush warm your cheeks as you moved your eyes back down to the sketch pad. It was also your job to sketch views of the towns for documentation and proof that there were settlements in this crazy world. You planned on scattering them out over the settlements just incase something happened they all wouldn’t get ruined if a building or two ended up getting set on fire. You wanted your art to be left behind for future generations to see when you were long gone.

Negan laughed, apparently able to see the pink tint that his comment brought to your face. “What are you doin’ over there?” he asked with a nod to the pad as he chewed on a bite of his sandwich.

“Michonne has given me the task of sketching different parts of Alexandria.” you said as you sketched one of the bars of the cell, not yet working on Negan himself.

“And I’m part of Alexandria?” he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Well right now it’s just your cell, but be nice to me and maybe I’ll put you in the drawing.”

“Oh, I’ll be nice.” Once again his tone made you blush, but you bit your lips closed and focused on your work. He chuckled quietly to himself. It was quiet for a while, the whole time his eyes were on you, but you only looked up to take in the details of the room and not the man in it. “Tell me, you got a guy up there on the surface?” he motioned to the window where you could see peoples feet as they walked around outside.

“No.” you answered not looking at him.

“So you and Daryl…?” he asked waiting for you to finish his sentence.

“You know it’s really hard to concentrate with you talking.” You said looking up from the paper to finally look at him.

“You said be nice.” He pointed out making you scowl.

“Fine then be quiet and I’ll consider drawing you in.” You snapped and he just smiled.

“So you do like Daryl?” he said through his smile and you bit your lip as you got back to work. It was once again quiet for a few minutes as you finished up the outline of the cell behind the bars that you had drawn. It was time to decide if you were going to sketch Negan into the cell. “Daryl’s an idiot you know. If we were back at the sanctuary I would’ve already asked you to marry me.”

You had been looking down at your pad, but when he said that you couldn’t help glaring up at him through your lashes. “What?” you had no clue why this was the word that you chose to let past your lips but it made Negan flash a big smile and in that moment you found yourself understanding why the women who agreed to be his wife had done so.

“Come on, you’re hot and you know it.” You had never thought of yourself as hot even once in your life. “If we were back at the sanctuary and you were alone, no Daryl, none of your people there to take care of you, no knowledge of the events that landed me here, what would you say to my proposal?”

You closed the book and hugged it to your chest as you glared at him and thought about your answer. If the circumstances were what he just described to you…? You started actually considering it. He wasn’t unattractive. Actually he was pretty damn hot. From what you had heard none of his brides went without and he wasn’t mean to them. The only down side was that you would have to share him. That in and of it’s self was a deal breaker.

“No.” you answered.

“Seriously?” he asked with his signature lean back. You didn’t answer and just watched as he grabbed the paper plate and held it out for you through the slot.

You set the pad on the floor and got up to take the plate from him. “Yeah, seriously.” You answered as you grabbed the plate.

“Why not?” he asked as he grabbed your hand through the slot and flipped it over in his. You dropped the plate on the outside of his cell. You could have taken your hand back. It was just sitting in his, but his sudden action had stunned you. Your eyes moved to his hazels stunning you even more. You saw his body move as he lifted his other hand and started drawing on the palm of your hand with the tip of his pointer finger. “You know I would take care of you.”

Little did you know that Daryl had walked by and heard Negan talking to someone in a flirtatious tone. So he leaned down and peered through the window.

You inhaled a deep breath and let it out, hating how good Negan’s touch felt. “I don’t share.” You said as you took your hand from his. As soon as the warmth was gone you felt yourself sobering up from the daze hisintimacy had put you in.

“Well, good news, I’m single.” He said and you shook your head and turned your back on him to bend down and pick up your drawing pad. “Damn.” He sighed shaking his head as he took in your ass that you had pointed right at him without thinking about it. You stood up and spun around quickly. “You have the keys, why don’t you come inside and let me show you how much I appreciate that fine ass of yours?”

After he asked that you heard the basement door open and Daryl came charging in. “Daryl?” you asked in confusion as he came rushing in looking pissed. “I thought you were out on a run, what are you doin’ here?” you asked in confusion as he stomped over and grabbed you by your upper arm.

“Yeah, Daryl, what are you doin’ here?” Negan echoed your question sarcastically.

“Come on, you’re done here.” Daryl started pulling you from the cell and you willingly followed. He didn’t let go of you until you were outside and then it was like he practically threw you away from him.

“What the hell is your problem Daryl?” you asked looking up at him with creased brows.

“What’s my problem?” he asked back at you. “What the hell is wrong with you, letting him touch you like that?” he growled, practically yelling at you.

You felt yourself deflate and crossed your arms over your chest, covering it with your drawing pad. You felt a tear run down your face from how he treated you and you turned away from him and started toward your house. You weren’t going to argue with him about this in the middle of the street. As you passed one of the windows of the cell you saw Negan looking up at you. You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

You weren’t aware that Daryl was following you untill you went inside and tried to shut the door behind you only for it to hit him. You turned around, stunned that he was there. “Are you gonna answer me?” he asked slamming the door behind him.

“No.” your quick answer only seemed to make him madder. “I don’t think I have to explain myself to you.”

“You seriously think he likes you? He’s playing head games with you.” Daryl glared down at you and tapped your temple with his middle finger.

You slapped him away. “You don’t think I know that?!” you yelled up at him “Regardless of what you think I’m not stupid.” You walked into the kitchen to get yourself a drink.

“I know you’re not.” Daryl almost yelled as he followed you to the kitchen. “You’re the smartest fuckin’ woman I know! That’s why I’m pissed that you let ‘im lay his grubby hand on ya! It looked like you were enjoying it!” you just pored yourself a glassed of water and took a sip as he yelled at you. “He’s a fuckin’ monster and you looked like you were ready to fuck ‘im. I’d expect it from another woman, but you?” his yelling was starting to get under your skin and make your blood boil. “Why-”

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore and placed your palms on the bar as you leaned across it at him “Because it felt good to be wanted!” your yelled words finally shut him up. He just stared at you and the tears that had started slipping down your cheeks. “No man has even given me a second look since the world fell, so excuse the fuck out of me for having a moment of weakness.” You grabbed your cup of water and walked out of the kitchen and to your room where you slammed the door behind you.

You sat down at your desk and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself. After you calmed down you decided that the future generations needed to know that even after the era of civilization fell putting people in prison was still something that worked. So you started sketching Negan by memory. You had just finished what you could when you heard a knock on your bedroom door.

As soon as you opened the door Daryl took a step toward you, grabbed your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. You stumbled back from the force but your lips remained together and he kicked the door shut behind him. Daryl didn’t know how to say that he had not only given you a second look, but about a thousand since he’d first met you at hilltop. So he decided to show you.

The two of you walked backwards stumbling around the room like a couple of idiots until you felt Daryl hit something and he fell down to sit on your bed breaking the kiss. He placed his hands on your hips and looked at you. It was weird that all he had to do was squint up at you for you to see that it hurt him when he saw you letting Negan touch you. Even if it was just your hand. You reached out and ran your hand through his soft hair, pushing it out of his face. He let his head fall forward to rest on your stomach. You just rested your hands on the back of his neck and played with his long hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you…” What, liked you? Wanted you? What exactly was it that was going on right now?

He picked his head up and looked up at you. “I didn’t either. Not until I saw…” he didn’t finish his sentence and when his eyes grew dark he didn’t have to.

“Negan made you jealous?” you asked. He nodded and pulled your hips toward him, silently asking you to come closer. So you moved to straddle his lap. He slid his hands up your back making you sigh before your lips met again. The two of you made out like a couple of teenagers for ten minutes before you broke apart for a breather. “This is nice.” You said from where you lay with your head on Daryl’s shoulder while your hands traced the lines of his abs. He picked your hand up and placed his palm against yours, comparing the sizes of your hands. “I don’t want to ruin the moment or anything, but I have to know…what does this mean for us?” you felt his head turn to look at you so you looked up at him.

“What do ya mean?” he asked and you shrugged.

“I mean, are we still just friends, friends with benefits or…are we something more?” you asked sliding your hand that was still pressed against his to the side to lace your fingers together. “I guess I’m asking you to put a label on us.”

Daryl hummed and turned his eyes back to your hands. You did to and you watched as he grabbed your right hand and pulled a ring off that you always wore on your right ring finger. You wanted to ask what he was doing, but you just watched. He picked up your left hand and placed it on your left ring finger. Butterflies started soaring in your stomach and flew up to your chest. “Not askin’ ya to marry me. It’s just there to hold the place if we ever decide to tie the knot one day.” He said and you turned your eyes to his and smiled broadly. He smiled back before another makeout session ensued.

“Wow, I’m surprised Daryl let you come back down here after the way he pulled you out of here yesterday.” Negan said when you walked in with his breakfast of fresh cow’s milk and stale cereal. You ignored him and handed him the styrofoam bowl and plastic spoon. “You are aware that you put your ring on the wrong hand this morning aren’t you?”

“It’s not on the wrong hand.” You humored him with a reply as you sat down and started putting the finishing touches on the drawing of Neagan that you couldn’t get from memory.

“Whoa, wait a minute, did you and crossbow get engaged?” he asked around his bite of food and you could hear the smile in his voice without even looking up.

But you had to look up to make sure you had his eye shape right. “It’s a promise ring.” You looked back down and started drawing his eyebrows.

“He gave you your ring as a promise ring?” he asked in confusion.

“It’s not like Alexandria has a jewelry store.” You said flatly not looking up from your work.

He was quiet while he finished eating and you finished drawing. When you were done you flipped the pad over and walked over to the bars to show Negan. “Nice. Looks just like me.”

“Yep, you’ll forever be known as the guy who managed to get life in prison in the middle of an apocalypse.” You popped off and he looked a little hurt. “Sorry, that was a little bitchy.” You said as you flipped the pad closed and moved to the food slot and held out your hand for his empty bowl and spoon. He handed it to you, but didn’t let it go. You looked up at him a little annoyed. “You don’t like sharing, does Daryl?”

“You wish.” You scoffed and jerked the stuff out of his hand.

“You like me and you know it.” He said with a smile.

“You’re full of yourself and you know it.” You said back to him as you left him behind and locked the door to the basement on your way out.

Daryl stood talking to Michonne and a few other people across from the cell that Negan was in and you were aware of Negan’s eyes on you as you walked over to the group. Negan gritted his teeth when he saw Daryl’s arm slide around your waist. He lost again.

Daryl Tags: @jodiereedus22 @mtngirlforever @zzeacat @winchester-angel@moodygrip @beegnc @hells-mistress @lighthope08 @sapphire1727@luisadontcurr @chloebabyboo @ilkaeliseb @twdeadfanfic @ravengalaxia@1lluminaticonfirmed @my-current-fandom-is @nikkiloves-bailey @coffeebooksandfandom @lonewolf471 @gruffle1 @mblaqgi @calumstuffs@beltzboys2015-blog @neontiger007 @lonewolf471 @sourwolf-sterek32 @dixonluvv @dotslabyrinth @kayln97 @art-flirt @beltzboys2015-blog @cbarter

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creative-type · 5 years

Text

I recently read Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn on recommendation from a friend. Finished it in about a day, and have had it stuck in my head ever since. Not because I liked it -- quite the opposite, in fact -- but after finishing the last pages of the epilogue and setting the book down never to be revisited again, I had to ask myself a question:

Is it possible to read a book incorrectly? And if so, did I?

Spoilers and musings beyond the cut. Fair warning, Sharp Objects is a fairly dark book that covers some pretty heavy issues including cutting and abuse. Consider yourself warned

To start out with, I’m not a huge fan of death of the author. I do think the reader of a text has to take the effort to try and figure out what the author is trying to tell them. Consideration should be made for the time and place the work was written, the prevailing culture, and so on and so forth. A historical romance written today isn’t going to ever replicate completely the style of Jane Austin because the authors are drawing from two completely different frames of reference. Culture changes. Languages changes. How we tell stories changes.

(Note: Not saying death of the author is inherently bad. It is just one of many systems of interpretation, and like every other system has its benefits and limitations. My hackles only raise when it becomes the only system of interpretation, as if it were intrinsically more valuable and valid than the rest /rant)

That being said, I think an author can be very subtle with the message they’re trying to send, or purposefully leave that message open to interpretation. And sometimes...sometimes sometimes the signals get crossed along the way, and the message that was intended never reaches the reader.

Which brings me to the point of this rambling mess of an analysis. I found Sharp Objects to be a dreary slog of a book. I knew it was dark going into the story, but there’s no levity inter-spaced between the overwhelming negativity to act as a reprieve between the elements of horror and tragedy. It has a very bleak opinion on the human condition in general and the small town the story takes place in particular. The ‘small town with a dark secret’ and the ‘family with a dark secret’ tropes are well-worn and familiar fodder for stories like these, but if I hadn’t read the author’s note at the end I would have thought that Flynn had never actually spent time in small-town America because it clashed so hard with my experience growing up in rural Iowa, the disconnect taking me out of the setting pretty early on.

I’m sure some people enjoy this kind of storytelling -- and apparently enough did that they turned it into an HBO mini series -- but it’s not my cup of tea. Maybe it’s my small-town roots showing, but I was almost offended by the picture Flynn painted of the fictional town of Wind Gap. I can handle darkness, but not page after page, after stinking page of unlikable, mean-spirited bickering and backbiting.

The mystery itself sparked enough curiosity to keep me engaged, but I’d pretty much figured out whodunit midway through the book on genre conventions alone. I figured about the fifth time someone remarked that the killer had to have been a man that it was probably going to be a woman, and was instantly suspicious that the main character’s sister’s illness was never named.

About the same time I more or less knew who the killers likely were, I began to wonder if I was reading the book wrong. I was struck by how well-written the prose was, with several vivid descriptions helping carry me along even if I didn’t particularly like what was being described. The main character, a middling journalist named Camille, starts the book as a former cutter and current alcoholic, and her mental state goes downhill from there. At one point she takes Ecstasy with her (I think?) thirteen year old half-sister (who, along with their mother, never felt like an actually character to me and more like a collection of bizarre traits and behaviors smooshed together in the semblance of a human being. Like I said, there’s never really any doubt who the killers are) and later on has sex with a barely eighteen year old boy who happens to be the prime murder suspect. She’s in such a messed up state that she thinks the best way to make up for this lapse of judgement is to try and give a blow job to the lead detective of the case while they’re sitting in the police station.

You know, as you do.

What made me think this way was the fact that the book’s written in the first person. I thought, if only for a moment, that perhaps we the reader was being led on by Camille’s own prejudice. It’s no secret that she hateed her hometown and the people she grew up with, and would rather leave her past behind than face the trauma she endured head on. No wonder she’s describing the sky before a rainstorm as the color of piss, or that she takes the time to mention a floating pube in the bath of a hotel on the way to Wind Gap. Of course all of her mother’s friend’s are equally as horrible as her mother, or that the girls she knew in high school would grow up to be just as shallow and vain. It made sense that she would describe the siblings of one of the victims as a fat, tantrum throwing girl and another as a dullard of a boy who would never amount to anything. A stubbornly pessimistic, barely functioning, disaster of a human being would see the negative in everything everywhere she went.

All at once everything clicked into place, and I felt like the author and I were on the same wavelength. By the time I got three-quarters of the way through the book I could see it going one of two ways: 1) Camille would somehow be proven wrong about her assumptions and prejudices, which would in turn kick start some character development or 2) Camille would be right, and Wind Gap would be proven to be just as horrible as she already thought it was. I figured if that second option was taken it was likely for the story to have a somber, even tragic ending, as the weight of all these terrible secrets and pain broke our lead character completely.

That’s...not what happened, and in strange display of pacing the true killer is only revealed during the epilogue (side note, I thought the reveal of where all the teeth were hidden was one of the best twists in the whole story). To be honest, it felt like the author tried to cram an entire sequel into the last 10 pages of the story, but long story short, Mama killed Camille’s sister during their childhood, but it was Baby Half Sister who did the present-day murders. After this stunning turn of events, Camille finds a knife and gives into the temptation she’d been fighting for the whole damn book, mutilating the one bit of unmarred skin she has left and the implication that she would have killed herself had someone not stopped her in time.

Ah, I thought to myself, tragedy it is. Not my favorite, but I could see how the author got from Point A to Point B and you could take a somber message about how the effect the environment a person is raised in affects them for the rest of their lives.

If the book ended there I would have been fine with it. I still wouldn’t have liked it, but it would have made perfect sense. Instead we get this last little bit to tie all the loose ends neatly in a bow. Note this ending comes immediately after the relapse into self-mutilation, which itself burst onto the scene with very little warning and was over after one paragraph:

Curry and Eileen packed my things and took me into their home, where I have a bed and some space in what was once a basement rec room. All sharp objects have been locked up, but I haven’t tried too hard to get at them,

I am learning to be cared for. I am learning to be parented. I’ve returned to my childhood, the scene of the crime. Eileen and Curry wake me in the mornings and put me to bed with kisses (or in Curry’s case, a gentle chuck under the chin). I drink nothing stronger than the grap soda Curry favors. Eileen runs my bath and sometimes brushes my hair. It doesn’t give me chills, and we consider this a good sign.

It is almost May 12, one year exactly from my return to Wind Gap. The date also happens to be Mother’s Day this year. Clever. Sometimes I think about that night caring for Amma, and how good I was at soothing her and calming her. I have dreams of washing Amma and drying her brow. I wake with my stomach turning and a sweaty upper lip. Was I good at caring for Amma because of kindness? Or did I like caring for Amma because I have Adora’s sickness? I waver between the two, especially at night, when my skin begins to pulse.

Lately, I’ve been leaning toward kindness.

When I read that last sentence, the gears in head ground to an abrupt halt, and I immediately disconnected entirely from the story. Camille had spent the majority of this book being anything but kind. The only instance I can see that might fit into this characterization is an off-hand reference in the first chapter that her boss (the Curry mentioned here) thinks she’s too soft in her writing.

I don’t know why these last paragraphs exist in this story. For all I know, the author couldn’t think of a way to finish the book and defaulted to a last-minute happy-ish ending. It is, after all, her debut novel. Hell, maybe it had been added at the insistence of her editor, or some other outside influence.

Or maybe I’m just missing something.

Death of the author demands that I, the reader, create my own meaning, but I simply can’t. Neither of the two readings I saw the potential for are supported by the text, and I find myself wandering back again and again to the matter of authorial intent. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the author’s trying to say. Either the story is too bleak to justify this...if not redemption, then healing for the main character, or the ending is too positive for the harsh and terrible world the author has gone through such pains to describe. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

There is a third option: That even though the world is just as terrible and awful as you thought it was, recovery is still possible. It seems to be what that last page implies, but this is the weakest reading of all, if only because it doesn’t have time to develop. Three paragraphs does not a character arc make, and Camille spent too much time moping around being miserable to even consider the possibility of closure.

I think this might have been what the author was going for. It fits well with the metanarriative of the mystery itself. But if so, it’s a message poorly communicated, and even now I’m not sure what I’m supposed to take from the book.

Again, on a technical level it’s very well-written, and undoubtedly I’m putting too much thought into what’s otherwise a generic murder mystery. But I also think it’s important for the author’s voice to be heard in their work, even if that message gets a little muddled along the way.

#creative-type analyzes #sharp objects #Gillian Flynn #creative-type reads #creative-type reviews

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the-beastslayers-queen · 5 years

Text

Magic and Moonlight: Chapter 20

Here is chapter 20 at last. Had to write it because the first draft didn’t work for me. Tagging: @queenofthearchitect @biforbecky2belts @balorrollinsmoxley @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @bethany99stuff-blog @sassyspacedust @afauss2009 @calwitch and @never-sawft-princess if you want in on the tag list for both this and my one shots, hit my inbox darlings. Enjoy!

Ever since Stephanie attacked me, I had been lethargic as hell. I couldn’t get out of my bed since the attack. Finn has stayed with me at Charlotte’s apartment, trying to figure out why I have no energy. I was barely able to put up the barrier over the apartment to keep out Morrigan and Stephanie. I seriously needed Colby to come back to Orlando soon.

As I was laying in my bed, trying to get some rest to regain my power and energy, I heard the apartment door open. I heard footsteps coming down the hall and then my door opened and I saw Roman and Dean had come to the apartment. I smiled weakly at the pair.

“Shit, dollface,” Dean winced at see me so weak, “You look awful. Steph did quite a number on you.”

“Yeah I’m not doing too hot, but thanks for noticing Dean-o,” I spoke softly, too weak to speak any louder.

“Look get some rest,” Roman sat on the edge of my bed, “We’re going to call Colby to fill him in on how you’re doing. Then we’re going to stand watch over the apartment with Finn to make sure nothing happens to you.”

After a couple days of just staying in bed, sleeping most of the time, Colby finally came back to Orlando. I was awake, fighting heavy eye lids for the last three hours, wanting to be awake when Colby came in. I heard the front door open and the thud of bags being thrown to the ground before the sound of heavy footfalls. I turned my head to my door to find Colby coming into the doorway. The look in his eyes at seeing me so weak broke my heart.

“Thea,” he breathed sadly as he came to sit on my bed beside me, taking my small, cold hands into his large, warm hands, “I came back as soon as I could. How are you holding up, babe?”

“I can’t stay awake,” I yawned and then groaned, “I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I just can’t get my energy back. I haven’t been able to cast any magic. It’s like I’m running on constantly dying batteries. I’m so scared, Colby.”

“Hey hey hey,” Colby pulled me up into his chest and wrapped his arms around me, “We are going to figure this out, okay. Becky and Charlotte are here to figure out what is going on with you, okay. We will fix this and get you your strength back. For now, I just want you to rest with me, okay. Once we get you some more energy, we’ll start trying to figure this out.”

And with that being said, I fell asleep in his arms, hoping I’d have more energy when I wake up this time.

When I woke up, I found that Becky was sitting at the foot of the bed with Finn. They were whispering between each other, more than likely discussing what they were going to do to fix what was wrong with me.

Since Becky is a druid, she has a unique set of magical abilities. She is one with nature and cast plant based spells like me. She also is healer far beyond my power, but she can’t resurrect the dead like I can. So if anyone was going to help me heal from this, it’s her. But why would she consult with Finn? Maybe there is something dark about this that she needs advice from Bálor.

“What’s going on,” I groaned as I tried to stretch, but was limited by Colby still holding me.

“So Finn thinks he knows what’s going on with you,” Becky answered, “And in order to start the healing process, we need to pull out whatever darkness Stephanie planted into you. And to do that, I have to channel my healing magic into Bálor while he absorbs the dark out of you.”

“Which means it will be very painful,” Finn added, “And you will need to trust us fully so we can do this. And we need to have Colby out of the room. His inner wolf will make him attack us out of instinct to protect you.”

“Okay,” I swallowed hard, “Colby, go be with Dean and Roman in the living room. Have them restrain you if it’ll keep you from stopping this.”

“I love you, Thea,” Colby kissed me briefly before getting up to leave, “You two better keep her alive and heal her.”

“You have my word, Colbs,” Becky nodded to him, “You’ll have your mate back and at full strength soon enough.”

As Colby left, Finn switched to Bálor and took position at the right side of the bed while Becky stood across from him on my left. I laid back and in the middle of the bed, bracing myself for what was to come.

“Are we ready to begin,” Bálor asked Becky.

“Yes,” Becky then looked to me, “Brace yourself, Thea.”

Becky stretched her hands across to Bálor and he took her hands. Soon Becky began to chant her healing spells, singing a beautiful melody as light began to shine from her hands. Bálor began to chant his own dark magic and I began to groan out in pain. Soon dark tendrils began to stretch from his hands and reached into me.

I began to scream and writhe in pain. I could feel Bálor’s tendrils grabbing and pulling at something inside of me. I could hear Colby in the living room yelling and growling at Dean and Roman. He knew I was suffering and was dying to run in here to protect me.

“Rinne an soith sin uimhir uirthi i ndáiríre,” I heard Bálor growl as he struggled against what his magic grabbed inside me.

“Ní mór dúinn leanúint ar aghaidh,” Becky replied to him, but I had no idea what they were saying. I just wanted this to be over.

What felt like hours, Bálor’s tendrils finally came out of my body and held a small ball of black smoke in their grasp. I just stared at it as Bálor pulled it into himself, absorbing it. I think he was using his own darkness to dispel whatever it was that Stephanie did to me. Becky continued to cast her healing spells on me, and I felt myself lose consciousness once again.

When I woke up, I was slow to open my eyes, but the first sight made me smile. Tyler was laying on my chest and Colby was sitting beside me. I smiled at the sight of my two favorite men with me and wrapped my arms weakly around my son, earning a coo from Tyler.

“You’re awake,” Colby sighed in relief, “I was worried you’d be out for a lot longer.”

“How long have I been out,” I asked him as I sat up carefully, taking Tyler in closer to my chest.

“You were out for a couple days,” Colby replied, “Becky stayed with you and kept healing you the whole time. She was trying to keep you stable so you could rest and get your energy back.”

“What did Stephanie do to me,” I asked.

“She planted a dark seed inside you called the Succubus’ Nightshade,” Finn replied as he came into my view, “It grows inside someone very slowly, making them lethargic and feeds the Succubus with the energy it draws from the victim until they finally die. It’s a way for Succubae to feed constantly without being close to their target. It’s only is transmitted through a strong Succubus’ kiss.”

“So Stephanie was trying to kill me from a distance,” I sighed, “Well I can’t wait to kick her ass for this. She is not going to kill me so easily.”

“You got that right,” Colby agreed, “But for now you are going to rest and spend time with Tyler. We’ll go out and train in the ring after you feel like you are back normal, okay.”

Today, Colby and I were with everyone at the PC. I was getting into the ring today with Colby to train. Becky had offered to spar with me in the ring, but I wanted to work with Colby. He knew my move set better than anyone since his was so similar to mine and he knew what to do to pull out my best.

“I won’t go easy on you today, babe,” Colby warned as he paced against me in the middle of the ring.

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” I taunted him.

We charged at each other and locked up in a collar and elbow. I fought with him and got the upper hand with a back wristlock. Colby twisted himself back to facing me before he started to counter the lock.

Once he finished flipping around and he threw me into the ropes. I came running back to him and I jumped up to deliver a dropkick. Colby sold it and fell to the matt. I then did a running shooting star splash right onto his chest. Again, Colby sold it for me.

I decided to get a little risky and climbed up onto the turnbuckle closest to him. I did a taunt to the crowd, but Colby recovered enough to run up and climb the turnbuckle to meet me. He grabbed me and he performed a superplex on me. He then rolled through it and delivered his falcon arrow on me. I was dazed from the move, but managed to kick out of his pin.

I decided to catch him by surprise and rose to my feet. I grabbed him and performed a small package driver, a little homage to his indie career. Unfortunately, Colby kicked out of the small package pin. I decided to go for a basement dropkick, but Colby managed to dodge it and he got me with a pedigree. He then got the pin and ended our impromptu match.

“You did well, Thea,” Colby held out his hand to pick me up from the matt, “I think you’re ready to get back into the ring.”

“Oh good,” I dusted myself off and fixed my clothes, “Now we just have to have me get checked out by the trainers and then figure out how I’m coming back.”

Colby and I decided to leave everyone at the PC and went to our coffee shop. We decided to take Tyler with us. I saw it as a way to show our son the place that his parents spent most of our early dates as a couple. Plus I needed a tea and Colby wanted some coffee.

“So I’ve been thinking about my return,” I spoke up after taking a sip of my tea, “If I come back I’ll be a face while you’re a heel. So that means I won’t be able to ride with you between shows since kayfabe is so sacred in this business.”

“Yeah,” Colby sighed, “But I think you’d be okay riding with Roman and Dean. That way you’re not alone and I’ll be able to rest easy knowing you’re with people I can trust. Besides, we’ll still be able to room together at the hotels. We just have to leave at different times to throw-off fans.”

“I don’t mind doing that,” I replied as I reached over to hold his hand, “As long as I get to sleep in the same bed with you at the end of the day, I’m happy.”

I was finally home in Davenport. I was working on packing my things up to make my in-ring return. The plan was for me to come out to interrupt Colby’s post-Summerslam promo. Since Colby was told he’d be winning against John Cena and taking the US title while keeping his WWE title, I would be able to make my return as a rebel character against the Authority.

Colby was a huge fan of this whole idea. He saw it as a way for me to wage my war for his freedom from Stephanie and Hunter. I saw it as my way of getting even with Stephanie for all of the bullshit she has put me through.

“I’m sorry that I’ll be leaving you soon, Tyler,” I was holding Tyler and bouncing him as I paced around the house to make sure I had everything I needed for when I hit the road, “But mommy has to go back to work. I want to make sure you will want for nothing. I’m doing this all for you, so you can have an even better future than I will ever have.”

Tyler simply cooed at me, I knew he didn’t entirely understand what I was telling him. One day he’ll understand what Colby and I were doing for him.

“You will never to go long without seeing me,” I promised him, “I’ll always visit you in your dreams. I will also try to bring daddy with me so you can always see him too.”

Tyler smiled even more, like he knew that I wasn’t lying to him.

“But I’m also doing this to help daddy,” I continued, “Daddy isn’t his real self right now. Daddy lost everything he loved about being a werewolf. And mommy is going to help him get it back. A very bad lady named Morrigan cursed daddy, and I have to beat her up so she’ll undo what she’s done to him.”

I put Tyler into his swing and went back to work on packing. Once all of my bags were together by the door, my mom came in and she immediately went to Tyler.

“Are you sure you want to leave for the road,” she asked, “I know how much you love your job, but Tyler won’t stop growing while you’re gone.”

“I know Mom,” I replied, “But I have to go to war for Colby. He can’t get back his true werewolf nature back without my help. That and I have a score to settle with Morrigan. She made my life hell when she was in my mind just as much as she has now that she’s free. If anyone is going to stop her, it’ll be me.”

#seth rollins x oc #seth fic #seth rollins fanfic #seth rollins fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #werewolf!seth rollins #witch!oc #supernatural/occult!au #magic and moonlight

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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 years

Text

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 14

Chapter 14: Send Out an S.O.S.

The Following Monday Night

Mera, Evening, 7:45 PM

The trainer’s room was where it always was, and my things were spread out exactly as I preferred them. All my necessary tools were within arm’s reach, easy to access should any of the superstars need my help. I was never part of the scripted trainer visits—they kept me in reserve for those who were really injured. For the most part, even the fans knew that when I came to the ring, something was really wrong.

I spent a lot of time alone in that room most nights. Sure, there were the times when someone got a little overzealous and either hurt themselves or someone else. But for the most part, I was just there to deal with general sports injuries and required stretching from their physical therapists. Right before matches, there was a steady trickle of superstars. Sometimes right after if someone just needed help with a locked-up muscle.

Otherwise… it was just me and four walls. I kept books with me, so sometimes I would read. Sometimes I had notes or medical records to update for some of the superstars who I saw on a regular basis. Most of the time, thought, it was just my thoughts and me.

With a major pay-per-view coming up, the higher ups were being more careful about the health of their superstars who were set to be big draws. Seth was on the books as going after the Universal Championship at Wrestlemania, so everyone was being particularly careful about his knee and his back.

Which meant he was required to see me before and after his matches from now until Wrestlemania was over. Great, I thought, looking at the note in his medical chart. Just great.

I thought back to the Seth I knew as a kid—back when everyone called him Colby or Brandon’s little brother. He had been so sweet and kind. In high school, he was charming and smart. He’d loved wrestling, putting on shows in his front yard with his friends, covering his basement bedroom in a thousand different names and slogans. But there had been a time—when he was Tyler Black in the ring and Colby everywhere else—when we’d been inseparable. When he’d wanted nothing more than to have me at his side, chasing that dream with him.

We graduated high school. I went to college, fast-tracking through an athletic training program—doing homework by flashlight driving from town to town on the weekends to watch him compete. Forty-thousand dollars of debt to get a degree and a certification to do a job that guaranteed I could be with him wherever he went. Independent wrestling companies didn’t always have fantastic care for their athletes, and I was an added bonus that came along when someone signed Tyler Black. And those hadn’t been bad days.

Crappy apartments, cheap hotels, food that was never that good and half the time cold, long drives and late nights. That had been my life from 18 to 29—eleven years of following him across the world with one company after the other. WWE had made it a little easier with better pay, a nicer apartment, more stability. But it had also created Seth Rollins. He was cocky, self-assured, and selfish. Even though he wore the same face as my childhood Colby, it had been Seth who had ripped my heart into pieces.

Someone knocked on the door. I glanced at my watch, realized that it must have been him. His match started in forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for me to give him a decent once over to ensure that nothing was of concern before he got in the ring. And, hopefully, it could be quick enough that we didn’t have to talk much.

I crossed the room, opened the door. Seth stood there with that annoyingly cocky look on his face, already dressed out in his gear. I fought down the pounding of my heart, the nausea that burned in my throat. “You know the drill,” I said, emotionless as he passed close by.

He hopped up on the table, flopping on to his stomach. I sighed and rubbed my hands together to warm them. It was best to just get this over with as fast as possible.

“Any pain today?” The words came out flat. For just about everyone else, I had a pretty good bedside manner. For Seth, it was all about getting him in and out without too many insults and tears.

“Tight on the left. You know how it gets sometimes,” he said with a knowing something in his voice. He turned his head toward me, pillowing his cheek on his crossed forearms. “Too much strain, you know.”

I forced my thoughts away from memories of the things throughout the years had triggered his aching back. “Tell me when it hurts.”

Dean, Evening, 7:55 PM

I cracked my knuckles, swung my arms to warm up my shoulders. I wasn’t scheduled until the second hour of the show, and I wanted to sit with Mera for a while. It was amazing to me that she had become so perfectly integrated into my life that her presence made me feel calm in a way that nothing did.

As I came down the hallway, I could hear her voice from the trainer’s room. Her tone was even, yet something seemed off. She sounded carefully controlled, clipped. I knew the rules—don’t go into the trainer’s room when someone else was already there—privacy and all that. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t wait outside just in case.

“Use the heat before and after on the back. Rest it twenty-four hours between every exertion. That means matches or workouts. You need to spread it out so that you can even make it to Wrestlemania.”

It took a moment for the response to come. When it did, my blood ran cold. The beast in my chest roared, desperate to get into the room, to keep her safe, to protect her heart.

“What was that treatment you used to do?” The words themselves were innocent, but I knew there was something more to his intent. “It used to work so well.”

“Call a masseuse,” she snapped back. “That’s not part of my job.”

Breathe, I told that primal thing inside me. It writhed in anger and sheer protective instinct. It was like it could sense her discomfort. I watched the door, wishing I could see through it. She was capable, intelligent, and stronger than any woman I’d ever met, and yet all I could think to do was to do everything I could to protect her from even the simplest pain.

The room went quiet. I paced, the worst possible scenarios playing through my mind.

“They never know how to do it. It’s either too much or not enough pressure. You’ve always been able to fix it,” Seth said in a tone that sounded both pouting and deceiving. “This is my big shot, Mera. Help me out here.”

Her visage floated into my mind. I could see the way her liquid gold eyes blurred with guilt, how she might look at him with her lips pressed into a line, her face a mask of discomfort and unhappiness. I’d watched her long enough to know how her emotions played over her features, how her sadness, pain, and shame could bend her into someone that gave away her best self to cater to another.

I knew there were tears in her eyes when she spoke. Just as I knew the answer before she even gave it. “Okay.”

The primal thing in my chest surprised me with the ferocity of its jealousy. It dug in, tried to drive me to bust through the door, to drag her away and remind her that she was mine and I was hers.

It took nearly every ounce of my will to keep myself in control. My feet picked up their pacing, taking me further away from the trainer’s room. It was as much for my peace of mind as it was for her privacy. Mera was my wife, regardless of how long it had been. There was nothing within me that could distrust her.

Seth Rollins was another story. In the last week, I’d seen my tag partner and brother in a new light—as a man who was self-centered, self-absorbed, and selfish. While I didn’t know the details of their relationship, I had pieced together enough to know that Seth had broken her heart completely. The fact that he seemed to be using their history to get what he wanted made my blood run cold.

Mera, Evening, 8:14 PM

I washed my hands in the sink, making sure to scrub the Icy-Hot from my fingers. The tremble that ran through them made me feel sick, stomach turning over as I tried to get myself under control. I hated the way that old feelings came rushing back with the memories of caring for Seth back when he had been Colby and Tyler. Some part of me—a traitorous corner of my heart that reveled in masochism it seemed—still thought there was some good in him, a piece of the old version of the man that I’d known.

My back was turned to Seth as he pulled his shirt back on. The rustle of cloth and the creaking of the padded table let me know that he was up and moving. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried my hands aggressively, hoping to hide their shaking. As I tossed them in the trash can, I stepped over to the WWE-issued laptop with the superstar’s medical records on it.

“Knee looks good. Heat on the back twice a day, 20 minutes each time. Strenuous activity only every other day, Monday through Saturday. Full rest on every off day until the match,” I said over my shoulder, already pulling up his medical chart. Once those directions were in his record, booking would have no choice but to go easy on him—perhaps easier than they already were.

Footsteps scuffed across the floor. Flesh met metal, then a heavy sigh. “You know Vegas weddings aren’t binding after 30 days, don’t you? Didn’t Dean tell you?”

The door whined on its hinges. The sound of it thudding back against the frame echoed the weight that slammed against my heart. Every fiber of my being suddenly yearned for Dean, to confess everything that I felt—the confusion and fear. I tried desperately to push away the seed that Seth had tried to plant. After all, Dean and I had already talked about having a real ceremony of some fashion.

I felt my throat close with tears as I realized there was a ticking clock on our marriage.

Dean, Evening, 8:20 PM

I watched from down the hall as Seth walked away from the trainer’s room. There was a smirk on his face that made me wonder what I’d missed while I’d let my feet carry me around the backstage area. That beast inside me roared, sent adrenaline flooding my veins, screaming commands to find and protect what was mine.

Reaching for the door, I heard her sobs. The door banged against the wall as I swept her into my arms. My fingers tangled in her hair. Silently, I swore. I’m going to slaughter him.

Tag List

@bethany99stuff-blog @houndsofjxstice @lunatictoosweet @xbutterflius-effectusx @mother-forker

#waking up in vegas #dean ambrose #dean ambrose fanfiction #wwe #wwe fanfiction #mera reynolds #dean x mera #ofc #oc #multi-chapter #real person fanfiction

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dangertronic · 6 years

Text

Not A Monster Chapter 11

I have no idea how I’m still getting these out daily.

Fun and softness today, kids!

Ao3 Link

Taglist: @creamy-brown-eyes @thetrashvoid

Forever Tags: @sten-bros @agrimny @areyareddie @deamontesnothere @soomar-wine @jakethezombiehunter

Let me know if you wanna switch the tag list you’re in or just plain wanna be in one.

Eleven

The Tozier’s basement was full of the sound of soft music and the laughter of nine teenagers.

They were currently sitting in a circle on the floor (which consisted of Eddie sitting between Richie’s legs while Richie was leaning against the sofa positioned just under the window), telling Jessica and Lucille the stories of how they met.

Of course, it went without saying that they didn’t mention anything to do with the clown or the missing kids.

“So you just helped them to steal a bunch of stuff?” Lucille asked, stifling her giggle. “If that’s not the start of a great friendship, then I don’t know what is.”

“Hey, they told me there was a kid who was pretty much bleeding to death. What would you have done?”

“Exactly the same thing.” Jessica said, sharing a high-five with Beverly. “I’m also assuming that Eddie was the one who did the actual patching up.”

Richie chuckled, reaching around Eddie for one of the cups of eggnog. “How’d you know?”

“She’s been in my house Rich.” Eddie pointed out. “She’s aware of the vast amount of medical supplies we have.”

Beverly snorted, taking a sip of her drink. “So come on. How did you girls meet my boys? They never told me that part. Just that you were two awesome girls madly in love.”

“I met Stan first.” Jessica admitted, leaning to the side to rest her head against Lucille’s shoulder. “I was lost on the first day, and he showed me to my class even though it was out of his way, and then I was paired with Eddie for a project. Bill and Richie happen to be in my homeroom and I met Ben and Mike after one of Mike’s basketball practices while I was waiting for Lucille to finish her cheer practice.”

“Staniel being helpful?” Richie asked, arching a brow. “I don’t believe it.”

“Some people deserve it.” Stan said, his gaze locking with Richie’s. “You’re not one of them.”

“Ouch, Staniel.”

Eddie leaned back, resting his head against Richie’s shoulder and tilting it to the side in order to nuzzle at the space just under his ear.

“Okay, how many cups of that stuff did Eddie have since getting here?” Richie asked, motioning to the boy who was still nuzzling at him in a manner similar to a cat. “He’s being more affectionate than usual and I’m not used to it.”

“If I were you, I’d just enjoy it.” Mike said, placing his now empty cup between his legs. “Unless… you don’t want him to be this affectionate?”

“If this turns into some chronic PDA where Eddie starts to grind on Richie or something then I’m out.” Stan said, sipping at his drink. “And I don’t mean out of this room. I will literally just walk back home.”

“Staniel, it’s midnight.” Richie pointed out.

“What’s your point, Richie?”

“Stan, don’t be silly. You can’t just walk home after midnight.” Jessica said, linking her hand with Lucille’s. “It’s far too cold for that. At least let me drive you home if that’s the case.”

Eddie chuckled, lifting his head up from Richie’s shoulder. “You guys are mean.”

Jessica slowly arched a brow, a look of amusement coming to her face. “Excuse me, who was the one who broke a guy’s nose at the start of this week?”

“He was hurting Richie!” Eddie defended. “In my presence that is not okay unless you’re myself or Stan.”

“Thanks Eddie.” Stan said, shooting him a grin.

“Hey, someone has to enforce punishment on him and I might be biased sometimes so that’s when I tag you in.”

“Stan’s definitely the best choice.” Beverly said with a giggle. “He’s always perfectly composed no matter what he’s doing.”

“Makes you wonder if that goes the same for se – ow.” Richie grabbed at his side where Eddie’s elbow had slammed into him.

“Beep, beep, you fucking dumbass. Learn to draw the line.” Eddie scolded.

“Yeah – okay – I got it. Point made.” Richie groaned, rubbing at his side again. “Have I not been abused enough this week?”

Eddie sighed and slowly slid a hand up Richie’s shirt to the place his elbow had connected. Richie flinched as Eddie’s fingers brushed over the bruised area, relaxing when Eddie started to stroke the area in a soothing manner.

“I’m sorry, Rich.” Eddie said, lowering his head back to Richie’s shoulder again, his thumb brushing circles against his side. “I forgot about –”

“Don’t worry about it.” Richie soothed. “I’m a durable man, me. I’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

“The horror.” Stan muttered, earning himself a giggle from Beverly and an elbow to the side from Bill. “I mean – that’s good Rich.”

“You’re going to remember to take it easy over Christmas, right?” Beverly asked, concern ringing in her voice.

“You don’t need to worry, Bev. I’m taking it easy.” Richie assured her with a grin as he stretched his legs out to sit more comfortably. “Eddie makes sure that I move as little as possible while he’s here which is... every day.”

“Are you complaining?” Eddie hissed tiredly against Richie’s neck.

“Nope. Not at all my darling Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie ruffled Eddie’s hair with a grin, pausing only to readjust his glasses.

“Good.”

“Does he even really know what’s going on around him?” Mike asked, peering around Bill to look at Eddie. “He looks really out of it.”

Eddie scoffed. “’M tired, not drunk asshole.”

When Eddie woke the following morning, he was in a mass of tangled limbs on the ground with Richie. He didn’t remember falling to sleep, or how he’d ended up on the floor under what he considered to be the world’s comfiest blankets with Richie practically wrapped around him like some kind of octopus.

The only thing he did know, however, was that he was currently the only person actually awake.

The lump of blankets on the sofa (the only thing that he was able to see from his vantage point on the ground) suddenly moved, a tired looking Stan poking his head out from underneath them with a groan.

“When the hell did you get up there?” Eddie hissed, trying his best not to wake anyone else in the basement up.

Stan blinked the tiredness from his eyes, finally deciding to take in where he was lying before looking to Eddie. “Huh, I’m not really sure. I think Bill helped me to move at some point. I don’t really remember.”

“Christ Stanley, how much did you drink?”

Stan snorted tiredly. “Enough to block out Richie’s voice, that’s for sure. What time is it?”

Eddie shifted in his awkward position, wriggling his arm from Richie’s grasp to check his watch. “It’s eight.”

Stan groaned. “It’s too early to be awake.”

“I guess this is what happens when we’re the first ones to fall to sleep. I kind of just wanna slap Richie awake so he can suffer too.”

“I wouldn’t.” Stan muttered, dropping his head back onto his pillow. “I can’t handle him this early in the morning and I’d like to enjoy the peace for as long as it lasts since you just know as soon as he’s awake that motor mouth is gonna be working overtime.”

Eddie nodded, using his arm to stifle a yawn. “Yeah, enjoying the peace actually sounds good right about now.”

Stan buried his face back into his pillow, closing his eyes again. Eddie wasn’t sure if he was just enjoying the quiet around him or if he’d fallen back to sleep; not wanting to speak in case Stan was trying to get some more sleep.

A thump sounded somewhere behind him, followed closely by a groan.

“Why the fuck is there a table there?”

Stan chuckled tiredly at the irritation in Jessica’s voice, opening his eyes again. “The real question is why you decided to sleep next to a table.”

“I’m like ninety-eight percent sure it wasn’t there last night.” Jessica grumbled, sitting up to rub at her abused knee.

“Well I really doubt that Richie moved it there just to annoy you – scratch that – that’s something he would actually do.”

“I can hear you asshole.” Richie grumbled, nuzzling his face into Eddie’s hair. “You guys are so loud – especially Jess.”

“Yeah well your table abused me. I have a right to be loud.” Jessica snapped, followed by the sound of Beverly giggling.

“Okay, we’ll more than half of us are awake now.” Richie said, slowly unwinding himself from Eddie to stretch out. “We might as well wake up the others for our usual tradition.”

Eddie groaned, nuzzling his face into his pillow. “It’s eight-thirty.”

“But it’s our breakfast tradition, Eds!”

“Absolutely not.” Eddie growled. “I am not getting out of this blanket nest before nine-thirty, and even then it’s only a fifty-fifty chance.”

“You’re so cute when you’re cranky.” Richie said, rolling over to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “You stay there, and I’ll make the breakfast. You can have breakfast in bed.”

“Oh, oh, oh, let me help!” Beverly said, bolting up out of her blanket nest and bouncing to her feet. “I wanna help!”

“Christ Marsh, how are you so chipper?” Jessica asked, dropping onto her back next to Lucille.

“You’re all just lightweights.” Beverly said, sticking her tongue out at Jessica. “There’s barely any alcohol in eggnog.”

Stan groaned. “But we still drank a lot of it.”

Beverly flipped him off as Richie sat upright and stretched out better, leaning down to give Eddie another kiss on the head.

Eddie shoved him playfully. “Get your butt out of this nest. The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back.”

“You are so not a morning person.” Richie chuckled, climbing out of the blanket nest and tucking the blanket around Eddie. “Beverly and I shall return soon enough with breakfast.”

Richie and Beverly had left the basement all of five seconds when Eddie spoke again.

“Richie is cooking… without real supervision…”

“God fucking damn it.” Stan groaned, sitting up and clambering his way off the sofa and over Eddie. “I’m on it.”

Eddie sighed and nuzzled back down into his pillow, closing his eyes again. It felt like he’d only closed them for a mere minute before the three of them returned to the basement, the stairs creaking under their feet.

“Wake up fuckers, it’s breakfast time!” Richie shouted, placing a tray of pancakes onto the table.

“God damn it Tozier.” Lucille groaned, kicking at his leg. “Let me sleep.”

“Richie it’s nine in the fucking morning.” Bill snapped, throwing his pillow at Richie.

“Damn, you guys are really cranky in a morning.” Richie said, dodging the pillow with ease so it hit Stan instead.

“Who the fuck gets up at nine the day after having a party and starts being so damn active?” Mike asked, voice muffled somewhat due to his pillow.

“Apparently Richie.” Eddie groaned.

Richie only chuckled, grabbing one of the plates once Beverly had set them down before loading it with some pancakes and returning to the blanket nest he’d been sharing with Eddie.

He leaned down to give him a kiss, nipping at his lower lip. “Here, I promised you breakfast in bed.”

“Ya forgot to get him a fucking drink to go with it, dumbass.” Jessica said.

“Damn, you really aren’t morning people.”

“Rich, it’s too early for this.” Jessica growled, rolling over and curling up into Lucille’s chest. “I might actually murder you right now if you say the wrong thing.”

Richie shook his head with a laugh, turning his attention to Eddie as he sat up, his hair sticking up at odd angles.

“Damn, if that’s what you look like after a normal night of sleeping, I wonder what you’re like after a night of –”

“Do not fucking finish that sentence, Richie.” Eddie snapped. “I will let Jess murder you.”

Jessica laughed tiredly. “Just say the word, Eddie!”

“Oh my god you’re all so loud.” Ben groaned as Beverly sat beside him, a plate full of pancakes for them share on her lap.

“People generally tend to be loud where Richie is con – wait… you’ve been asleep this whole time?” Stan asked, holding a plate out to Mike.

“Yeah, why?”

“How the – even Bill woke up during all the noise.” Mike said, taking the offered plate with a nod of thanks as he was overcome with a yawn.

“Guys… I think Ben learned to actually tune Richie out when he’s asleep. You have to teach me how to do that.”

“I don’t even know how I do it, Stan, let alone teach you how.”

“You guys are really mean.” Richie grumbled, holding a forkful of pancake out to the still barely awake Eddie.

“Are you new to this group or something Trash –” Eddie automatically opened his mouth, allowing Richie to feed him. Swallowing the piece of pancake, Eddie levelled him with a glare. “That’s a really dirty trick, Rich.”

“I do whatever works for me.” Richie shrugged. “Surprised you actually ate that off my fork with your whole germ thing.”

Eddie blinked up at him tiredly. “I’ve literally swapped saliva with you, you fucking dumbass.”

“Oh yeah…”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #leighwritesathing #this chapter almost ended up going in a wholeeee different direction

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expansionarchives · 3 years

Photo

Unfinished sketch of a cottage posted by Jaccques Simmons on March 16th, 2023. Referencing the building he entered in his ‘Cottage Account’ on March 14th.

I only managed to draw the building itself before the photo died, but I tried cleaning it up from memory afterwards. The part that juts out is where the descending staircases were.

If someone ventures into the wilderness around here and finds a building shaped kinda like this, enter at your own risk. And at the very least, enter with another person.

---

Jaccque Simmons’s ‘Cottage Account,’ posted on March 14th, 2023. Recounting what happened to him when he entered a derelict building he had been tracking for the last few days.

Boy, I have got the story for you guys today. I almost died, I think, but that’s not the part that sticks in my head the most. Right now, I’m sitting at home at my computer, writing this on a keyboard with a cup of my rationed hot chocolate next to me. Despite it taking me nearly 4 days to get to the cottage, I only needed 1 to get home, and I couldn’t be happier.

Anyhow, let me tell you what happened:

After waking up that day and packing up my camp again, I noticed that the short hills in the distance had disappeared. I climbed up a tree to get a better look and I saw to my delight, the cottage I had been tracking this entire time was only about 400 feet away. As fast as I could, I got down and made my way towards it, very soon I sat in front of the building, and I realized it did not look anything like I had thought.

The ‘cottage’ was more like the shell of a brick building that just appeared smaller from far away, its insides were completely empty: 2 floors of garbage were piled onto the ground within the walls, and I realized that this house, whatever it was, must’ve been abandoned for decades at least. The small signs of dissaray I had seen on my way to this building were just hints of the cottage’s actual state.

Disheartened, I started loitering around to see if there was something to have made the trip worth my time. I looked at the ground under my feet and realized that it was crumbled asphalt, meaning there was once a road here--but after the wilderness changed sized over and over again it broke apart. Perhaps, I thought, I’d find something else of note if I kept following it.

So I did, I kept trekking along the traces of roads until I came to a dead end. There was a thin wall of shrubbery in front of me, but between the leaves I made out another building. It was short and squat, but more than enough to get my attention. I took my big knife from by belt and cut down enough of the plants to get through, and when I did I saw what looked like some kind of old storehouse.

It was made of stone, but had a metal roof and the remnants of a powerline was sat in front of it, with bits of dead wire scattered around. The old stone walls were cracked, with bits missing and exposing the inner wall. Across the entire thing were dead creeper-like plants, and in the center was a large metal gate, which appeared to me like it was made to drag a cart through.

Either way, I thought I had what I came for and I snapped a picture with my phone so I could draw it later. This is an aside but I know some of you guys are shocked that I would do this, but I realized after a bit of testing that photos of the stuff you find in the wilderness only ‘dies’ after a little while. Usually it does not last longer than a day, but that’s more than enough for me to draw something from photo reference. I’m not sure exactly why this happens, however, so I guess that’s something for the scientists out there to figure out.

After snapping my pic I pried open the metal gate. The inside of the building was barren, except for signs of the inner wall breaking off. I put my backpack down and brought out my flashlight, and I saw a descending set of stairs to my right.

In hindsight, these stairs were weird as hell. Just at one end of the building, within its own room or even with a fence around it, were a set of wooden stairs that descended into what was presumably a basement. When I walked up to it and shone by flashlight down, I saw it descended about 20 or 30 feet before ending at a normal-looking wooden door. I was so curious that, after making sure the steps weren’t too rotten to support my weight, I went down and tried to open it.

The door wasn’t locked, and it swung open to a small basement-like room. The space looked like it was dug out of the dirt and then had plaster walls and ceilings put up. It was weird as hell, as it looked like underneath this abandoned storagehouse was just an unfinished basement. There was no furniture, unless you counted the littles piles of dust bordering the walls, but there was another door just in front of me. Although the door itself hadn’t been installed so it was just a door-shaped hole. The door hole, if you will.

Through the door-hole was a long room with what looked like the measurement drawings on the wall. Like how someone would do to mark where they’d cut out a window or something, but for this there were the outlines of like 4 windows marked out in blue. Beyond that, the room was exactly as featureless as the last, save for another empty doorway. I went through that and found another room, but this time with no walls, just the metal frame of the room and the naked supports that were holding up the ceiling. To my right, now, was another empty doorway.

And this was something I didn’t notice until I was on my way out, but, the doorway I saw from the naked room should have lead right back to the first room I entered when I descended those steps. But it didn’t. I went through the naked room and found myself in an even more naked room. The previous one had its frame and stuff exposed, this room had none of that. It literally looked like a cube-shaped hole that was excavated out of the ground.

I’m going to make a diagram in MSPaint to show you what I mean.

The grey room is the one I just entered, the excavated one, and I swear up and down that there was no change in elevation as I walked through these rooms. If this was a normal place, I swear the room I just walked into WOULD have intersected with the first room I went into.

So, yeah, in hindsight this place was a little insane. But, it just looked so benign and weird in more obvious ways that I didn’t notice. Was that somehow on purpose? By the whatever or whichever that built this place? Assuming something like this actually was built and didn’t just like, spring out of the aether or whatever. Perhaps if I spent a couple more second to think about this then

Anyhow, once I had reached the super empty room I saw another opening, but it wasn’t shaped like a door like the rest of the passages. It was just a rectangular hole, seemingly carved into the wall itself. I shined my flashlight down, and saw the ceiling steadily lower like a ramp until it opened up again at the very end, presumably into a new room.

Now, this is obviously the part in the horror movie where everyone yells at me to go back to saftety. I’m in this pitch-black basement, with only my flashlight, and a long narrow hallway leading into some mystery room. But you have to understand how it felt in the moment. The situation the world is in right now is completely and utterly undprecedented, it’s basically supernatural. The world is growing bigger and smaller behind our backs and now, within one of these strange flux regions, I find not just a building but a basement, leading to somewhere?

With how the wilderness is acting, along with some of the stuff I've seen other survivalists post, I felt like if I didn't see what's at the end of the hallway, then nobody would EVER see it.

So I continued.

And down I went as the roof continued to lower forcing me to eventually crouch my way forward until I got into a really weird room. It’s difficult for me to describe so I went through the effort of drawing a rough summation from memory.

There was this pedestal-shaped thing that descended from the ceiling, and from it was a clay tablet that hung down a short distance from a two thick black ropes. The tablet had an indentation a bit larger than my head's, and hung down to about my chest. There were no strange markings or runes or anything, on either the tablet thing or the structure in lowered from.

This little room looked completely different to everything I had seen so far. It almost didn’t look manmade. It wasn’t dug out or built and set into the ground by anything, it gave me the sense that it was just... there. That entire time, somehow, this room naturally formed. It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s the only way I can imagine describing it. The rock walls were smooth, and a sort of ochre colour, but the wall in front of me was more yellow. The room itself was also immaculately clean, no dust or anything.

I looked into the clay tablet-like thing that stuck out from the upside-down pedestal. It was completely still until I poked the edge, and it swung about harmlessly. The indention was ovalular, and struck me as the exact kind of shape something meant for you to stick your head into would be.

So, of course, I stuck my face into it. It didn't look supernatural, and I was really curious. Maybe there was some kind of magic influence going on as well but it literally looked like something that was made for you to stick your face into I thought this place was leading me to something. Like, I had gotten so far, at the literal end of this tunnel, I would find something interesting, and this was clearly what I was meant to do. So yeah, I did, to see if my face would fit. And I very quickly regretted it.

As soon as my nose touched the back of the tablet thing I gasped. But it was like an involuntary thing, all the air rushed out of my chest and then I took another quick breath, just as involuntary. Right then, I had lost control of my body. It was like sleep paralysis, I was standing normally, leaning into the clay tablet thing, but any attempt at moving my arms or fingers or legs failed. I wasn't able to control my breathing. I wasn’t even able to let go of my flashlight.

My eyes flitted around inside the tablet, I could just see out the edges of my peripheral vision, and I imagined some kinda shadow creature taking me or something, but nothing happened. I began counting the seconds, and 27-ish seconds in I realized I wasn't looking into a clay tablet anymore--I was looking outside. Just outside the storehouse, I could even make out the shrubbery that I knocked down to get there.

But, just as it felt like I had taken in my surrounded I was taken away from my view of the cottage. I started to see flashes of places and things that I sort of recognized. The ruins of a building with lot's of windows that I eventually realized was my neighborhood's library, but once that happened I was shown something else: An overgrown road, with big chunks of asphalt sticking out of swamp water, I eventually noticed half of a sign sticking out of the dirt and realized it was one of the streets leading up to my nephew's highschool. Then my vision shifted again.

Over and over, mind you this entire time I'm still in a vegetative state with my face shoved into a clay brick, I'm shown these random scenes of shrubbery and stuff only for me to recognize something about them, and for my vision to shift to something else. It didn't feel like I knew what I was doing, it was like I was hypnotized and my eyes just glazed over what I saw until the synapses in my brain went off and I recognized the place.

I swear this went on for at least an hour, and the more it went on the more exhausted I got. I could feel my knees go weak and my back start to hurt from the slouching. But no matter what I did or thought I couldn't get my body to move, I realized I wasn't able to consciously close my eyes, even. My blinking was on autopilot. I started to regret my life and stuff, like, was this how I was going to die? Trapped in some weird thing because I stuck my head into it like an idiot? I just wanted to go home, but when I tried to shut my eyes I saw something flash in from of my vision. Something familiar, that gave me a weak idea.

I focused on the image of my house, the doors, the walls, the windows, the solar panels I installed last year, other random stuff that I thought could only be associated with my house and nobody else's. The vision of my house came to me, and I recognized it, and I even saw the footprints of my boots as I stepped out of it the first time. And I felt weirdly relieved.

And the thing that was like, flashing my vision, tried to move onto something else. But I willed it to stick onto my house, like when you put two different images in front of your left and right eye I could see both my house and something else at once. But I consciously shifted all my attention to my house. My vision tried to shift again but I refused to think about anything else, the living room, my house-phone, my computer. This went on like, 2 or 3 times until suddenly I felt the strength in my legs returns and I literally jumped backwards, sending my face out of the clay tablet and towards the entranceway I came from.

I landed on my ass and for the first time in what felt like forever I was able to consciously breathe again. I flexed my fingers and toes as I stared at the tablet thing that was now swinging idly from the two thick ropes. I half expected something to jump out at me, some men-in-black type guy to pick me up, go "You're not finished yet." and shove me back in, but nothing else happened.

When I regained my bearings I headed straight the hell out, and while I was walking out of the basement I held my hatchet in the other hand, just in case. Fortunately, I was unassaulted, and exited the storehouse with no further damage.

Once I stepped outside I saw that it was about 5 PM, and I tried to put as much distance between me and the storehouse as I could. After a graciously short amount of time, I had made it back home. And now I’m typing this update for you guys.

This is kinda of crazy, but in hindsight, what happened is kind of reminding me of how CDs are read in a disc reader. A laser goes across the surface and grabs the bits of pieces of data that's physically spread around thef the disc, then pieces it together on your computer to make a movie or image or something. Was this shrine thing like... reading my mind, somehow? It was flashing my memories or something, showing me images until I recalled what the place was, and then showing me another. I'm not gonna worry about how, this surreal wilderness is messed up enough. But what I wanna know is if so, if that thing held me there to see what I remembered and recognized, why?

One thing I can say, however, is that I have never been more happy to be home. Regretably, supplies are getting low. My instant hot chocolate is almost gone, so I need to enjoy it while it lasts. While I was away, however, my backyard garden has been doing well, and I can confirm that the wilderness has lot's of resources for you to gather and scavenge, as well as wildlife to hunt down. I certainly won't go hungry, but man, I am already missing the benefits of normal life.

I'm also coming to accept that there are other people out there. Not as priveleged as I was to have the resources to set up all the things I have in my house. The wilderness gives me lot's of room to expand as well, so I think after this week, when I head out again, I'm going to look for survivors and lead them back to my house. I'm thinking of making my place some kind of beacon for people to come to, I can expand the farm, make some shelters--there’s lot’s and lot’s of lumber to go around. Maybe provide a place for a good meal for people to find. Maybe I can figure out a way to put out signs and stuff leading to here.

Afterwards, I can radio someone it to bring a chopper and send people to the larger cities. I think almost dying has burnt out my adventurous spirit a bit, perhaps this is how our ancestors felt when they first began making permanent settlements.

Signing out, y’all. And stay safe out there.

#worldbuilding #expansion #simmons #visual #narrative #tombs

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desdemonafictional · 6 years

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still slowly working my way through the amnesia!universe

Jack rises to the Sunday morning light outside Bruce’s wide window, knowing that he can’t go home like this. His home will swallow him alive. Instead, he moves quietly through the mansion, laying new eyes on the endless hallways, some of them familiar, some of them not. He inspects every photograph, of which there are precious few. The one of Bruce with the little black-haired boy. Grayson, Jack now assumes. The enormous portrait of the late Waynes, overlooking the parlor with ghostly benevolence. He spends a long time considering Martha Wayne’s mysterious little smile. He feels that she knows something, something sad. The kind of sad that you just have to laugh at.

It must be a pain to dust in here. The old boy’s not as spry as he used to be. Why don��t they hire a maid to do all that, it’s not as if they don’t have the money. Right?

Jack runs his hands over the cool marble skull of some philosopher he’ll almost certainly never be able to name. His fingers itch too, now, with the same suppressed panic that has been building in him for a day now. What is he looking for? Will he know it when he finds it?

Underneath the splashes of new life in this room, there are the dusty underpinnings of the Bruce who lived here before the accident. Delicate velvety bodies of bats pinned underneath glass, wings splayed for analysis. Obscure texts by long dead scientists. Jack looks again to the Mona Lisa smile of Martha Wayne, searching for some answer in her spectral face. The Bruce of before strikes him as a kind of Byronic figure, pacing the walls of this gloomy parlor. He grows monolithic and strange in his seclusion. His sadness. Jack can imagine where that sadness might come from. Maybe there’s nothing behind Bruce but this sadness.

He lifts his fingers. Maybe he is imagining it all. A cold uncertainty runs through him, as he overlooks the room. Maybe all he’s sensing is his own guilt crystalizing between them, growing stronger with each person who seems to know more about him than he knows about himself. He drops into the chair behind the desk, groaning, and spins absently.

As he drifts to a stop, he spots a business card wedged underneath one of the eccentric little paperweights. It’s Kent’s. He’s a journalist, Jack knows now, which explains how he knew just the wrong things to say. As he picks it up, Jack eyes the half-open door to the parlor. Bruce clearly didn’t want him involved in whatever Kent is investigating, but every instinct is screaming at him that these things are one and the same—Bruce’s secrets, his vague warnings, Kent’s connection to them both.

Jack pockets the card before he can convince himself not to, and quickly leaves the parlor behind.

What he really needs to check out, he decides, are those R&D documents that Bruce is so obsessed with lately. Jack has always suspected there is something lurking beneath the surface of Wayne Enterprises. It’s time to see the face of it.

-x-

It’s remarkably difficult to get his hands on those documents, as it turns out. Bruce is pleasant but firm about confidentiality, and he never leaves them unattended on the table or in an unlocked drawer. The more Jack tries to get close to them, the more he realizes that Bruce is actively guarding them. After being thwarted for the umpteenth time, Jack gives up for the day and wanders out of Bruce’s office entirely. He hardly notices that he’s made it to the elevator until he’s already on it. He studies the grid of buttons for a moment, first blindly and then with dawning interest. What if he….

Jack hits the button for the basement, and then rides the long trip down to R&D in a nervous fit. He has no idea what he’s doing.

The hallway down here is sparse, when he steps off the elevator. They don’t have the marble fixings of the office floor or the stylish steel minimalism of the lab floors. It’s just a hallway, concrete and florescent lights, and at the end of it: a door.

Jack presses his hand against the scanner, but no dice. Down here there’s not even a retinal, which is kind of weird. From the way Bruce was handling those documents, Jack expected high security. Could it be something as simple as embezzlement hiding in those papers, nothing truly strange or unusual at all? He couldn’t get square with the idea. There was something in his bones that wouldn’t let him rest.

As he was tapping at the pad, looking for any buttons he could fuck around with, the elevator slid open and revealed the shape of Lucius Fox, in the process of tugging his lab coat on.

“Oh,” Lucius says. He comes down the hall at a brisk but unworried pace, hands in his pockets. “Mr… Ah, Jack, wasn’t it?

Jack waves at him. “Lucius, buddy, how are you?”

“Living on caffeine, same as always,” Lucius says. He seems a little taken aback at the familiar address, but he rallies quickly. Jack wants to apologize for the misstep, actually, but Lucius rallies so quickly there’s no good place to do it, so Jack just… keeps smiling. You can’t go wrong with a smile.

“What brings you down here?” Lucius says.

Jack glances up. “Bruce is driving me home,” he says. And then, hit with a burst of inspiration, “But it feels like I’m underfoot today, so I thought I’d take a walk around and make myself scarce. You have a second to give as guy a tour?” Lucius looks at him. Looks at him hard, and Jack is becoming suddenly aware of how suspicious he must sound when Lucius gives him a shrug and plants his hand over the scanner.

“Alright,” Lucius says. “I don’t have a whole lot of time to squeeze you in, but you can have a look around if you like.”

The door rolls back to show something that reminds Jack, inanely, of a tire store. It’s got that rubber and grease smell, a room that looks darker than it is, light bouncing off the metal edges of cases all around. Jack darts into the thick of it before he can think twice, circling a display case at the center of the room which glows with blue electronic lights, a tower of folded metal behind glass.

“Ah,” Lucius says, somewhere behind him, “the turbine battery. Just the prototype, of course. The first gen model is on display at a conference in Europe at the moment….”

Lucius says it in a particular hanging sort of way, like maybe he’s waiting for Jack to ask more questions about it. But Jack wouldn’t even know where to start, and anyways he’s distracted by an actual tire on display at the back wall, over the sprawling holographic presentation table (which he ignores).

The treads are deep enough to hide several fingers and the circumference is enough to sit an eighteen-wheeler on, and there’s something elegant about the shape of it all that fills Jack with a delightful déjà vu. He runs his fingers over the swoop and curve of the treads. The display shelf is on eye level with him, and when he looks up into it like this, he can almost feel—

“That one’s a bit of a relic,” Lucius observes. “Military tech moves fast. That model is already obsolete.”

Jack traces the outline of a tred. “It was on the batmobile, wasn’t it,” he murmurs.

There’s a change in the air. It only lasts a second, but it startles Jack out of his revere. He draws back his hand like he’s afraid the rubber will burn him. When he turns back to Lucius to apologize, though, Lucius looks the same as ever. “I don’t see how it could have been,” the man says, hands in the pockets of his lab coats.

“Right,” Jack says quickly, “sure, my mistake. I’ve never even seen the batmobile.”

Lucius gives him a strange look. “What are you interested in?” he asks, leaning against the projection table. “I could give you a pinpoint tour, if you don’t mind being in and out pretty quick.”

Jack furrows his brows, puzzling it over. “What, uh,” he says, “what is Bruce interested in?”

Lucius considers him for a moment, and then he crooks a finger for Jack to follow. He bustles over to a stacked shelf and digs out a scale model of a monorail car, which fills his arms like a big cat as he lifts it. “Bruce is always most interested in the city improvement projects,” Lucius says.

Jack takes it into his arms like it really is a big animal, warm with affection for his boyfriend. Again he thinks to himself, how could I have doubted him? What was I expecting?

“Do you have a background in engineering?” Lucius asks, as he reaches over and flicks the switch to make the little motor run. The wheels chug right along. “Not a bit,” Jack says, poking at the wheels. “Couldn’t wire my way out of a locked car.”

“Not even a car? You seemed pretty familiar with the x29 tred.”

Jack pauses, in the middle of flicking the little model doors open and closed. “I dunno what I was thinking there. I just thought I remembered seeing it before.”

“Maybe some other military vehicle,” Lucius suggests. “We sold a lot of them five or six years back.”

“Maybe,” Jack says, thinking that the closest he’d ever been to a military vehicle was being kidnapped by Scylla and Charibdis months before. And he had no idea what that car looked like, because he’d been blindfolded.

No, the more he thinks about it, the more certain he is. He almost definitely remembers looking up into that tread pattern, like maybe—like maybe he was on the ground? Like maybe it almost ran him over? But the memory isn’t scary. It’s more like a happy memory. Like a Christmas morning memory. Not that he has any of those to compare it to.

“Anything else I can show you?” Lucius asks, which is funny because he’d seemed a lot more hesitant standing at the door five minutes ago.

Jack looks up at the ceiling, at the projector table, at the door to the back room. He feels kind of stupid for bothering Lucius now. How would he know what he was looking for in here, even if he found it?

“I’m good,” he says. “Thanks for your time, Bubala. I know you got work to do.” Lucius takes the model from his arms when he offers it, and puts it away. “You know Bruce has had a fair number of girlfriends over the years,” he remarks,

“but you’re the first person to come down here in the flesh.”

“Huh,” Jack says. “You’d think they woulda taken more of an interest.”

“Bruce knows which kinds of people take an interest,” Lucius says, with a meaningful look over his glasses.

“Yeah?” Jack says, nonplussed.

“Bruce might seem like a carefree spoiled sap,” Lucius says, “but he knows more than people think.”

“You sure you’re allowed to call your boss spoiled?” Jack says, uneasily.

“Come back any time,” Lucius says, pressing the button to open the heavy door. “But don’t expect to find anything.”

Jack inches out the door, not quite sure what direction this conversation has derailed in.

“And next time?” Lucius says. “Get a guest pass.”

The door slides shut.

#48 verse

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