#JUMPED IN AN ALLEY THEN BEAT WITH A BASEBALL BAT THEN RUN OVER BY A CAR

[c0ntr0lledchaos]

mwmday3 - Inherited friends

Prompts:

“You're not looking so hot.”

Lightbulb

Tension

Alleyway

(originally posted in may of 2023)

 Cason’s heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears as he ducked into an alleyway. The sounds of shoes hitting the pavement bounced off the walls as a group of people ran past. He pressed himself against the brick wall, praying they wouldn't see him. Luckily, they all passed the alley, shouting as they did. He stood there, breathing heavily as he waited for them to get farther away before he dared to move. After a minute or two he finally was convinced they were gone and sighed, leaning against the wall to keep his legs from giving out.

 The sun beat down on the city, bouncing off the concrete and cooking it from all sides. Sweat dripped down Carson’s brow, stinging his eyes. He wasn’t out of shape necessarily, but being dehydrated and tired didn’t help. He also wasn’t used to the city and it was pretty disorienting how big everything felt. The buildings towering over him, the noise from cars and people, the scent of gas and pollution; he had never felt more homesick for his rural hometown. At least the tall buildings shaded the alley well.

 He leaned forward and shook his head, tiny glass shards falling out of his dark curly hair as he did. One of the people chasing him had hit him over the head with a light bulb, most likely found in the trash. He didn’t even know why they wanted to fight him. He supposed he just looked like an easy target. He gently ran his fingers through his hair to get the last of the glass out while also checking if he was bleeding.

 “You’re not looking so hot,” a voice said from above him. He squinted as he looked up, his eyes taking time to adjust. Eventually, he saw a woman on the fire escape a few feet above him. She sat on the edge of the platform, arms resting on the railing and feet dangling over the edge. Her facial piercings caught what little light there was in the alley, looking as if they were glowing against her goth-style makeup.

 “Yeah well… I feel really hot right now,” He said, shaking the last few pieces of glass out of his hair. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, especially when the scent of death wafted from the end of the alleyway. Probably from a dead dog or something.

 Carson turned to walk out of the alley when he heard a thump behind him and metal hitting the concrete. He turned around, eyes widening in surprise as he saw that the woman had jumped from the fire escape. She landed a few feet behind him, the metal sound coming from a baseball bat she was holding hitting the ground when she landed. The baseball bat instantly drew Carson’s attention due to what looked like dried blood on the end of it.

 “Do I know you from somewhere?” She asked, resting the bat on her shoulder as she walked towards him. Her boots crunched as she stepped on the remnants of the lightbulb, the sound reverberating in Carson’s head as the hairs on his arms stood on end.

 He took a few steps backwards as she came closer. Wanted ads on billboards and online came to mind as she stalked towards him.

 "No, you don’t,” he said firmly. He turned to leave but she was fast and cut him off before he made it back to the sidewalk. He stumbled back in surprise and she backed him into the alley a few paces. The sun bouncing off the sidewalk made her look like a living silhouette. The sun glinted off the bat and Carson couldn’t help but wonder how often she used it as a weapon.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” She asked. She leaned forward as she looked him up and down, analyzing him. “What’s your name?”

 Cason kept backing up, trying to stay out of her reach. It reminded him of a big cat stalking its prey. If she realized who he was she could report him to the police and he would have to run again. He had just gotten to this city and didn’t have the money to travel anymore. As he was forced deeper into the alley the stench of death grew stronger, as did the dull pull in the back of his mind. He could tell now that it was not a dog he felt, but a human. He didn’t know if the woman in front of him had anything to do with the dead body, but the dried blood on her bat seemed like too much of a coincidence.

 “I’m not telling you my name!” Carson said, doing his best to give her a threatening look. He began to focus on the dead body, feeling a chill that accompanied death pass through him as he started to will the body to defend him.

 She actually laughed at him.

 “It's hard to look threatening when you are clutching that cross so hard you might break it,” she said, gesturing at his chest. He glanced down and saw that he was holding onto his necklace so tight that his knuckles turned white. An old habit of his, holding his cross when scared.

 The woman took the distraction to quickly step forward and knock Carson to the ground. He fell back, the cross flying out of his hand and hitting his forehead as he landed on his ass. He winced and rubbed his forehead as the woman chuckled a little. When he looked back up at her she was opening something, her bat now tucked under her arm. After a moment he realized it was his wallet she was holding and now looking through.

 “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get up and reach for it as quickly as he could. However, it was too late as she already had his ID in her hands.

 “Ah! That's where I know you from!” She exclaimed, snapping her fingers with a big smile on her face. “I was friends with your grandpa! You look a lot like him.”

 Carson stopped abruptly, blinking at her in surprise. How could she know his grandpa? He didn’t even know his grandpa. All he knew was that he was named after him. His mother had mentioned that Carson looked like his grandfather when the man was younger but she had never shown a picture of him to prove it.

 While he processed this, the woman snooped through the rest of his wallet, finding a piece of newspaper he had put in there.

 “Young boy suspected of killing a number of people, including his father,” She read out loud, snapping Carson out of his thoughts. “multiple dead bodies found on the scene… multiple stages of decay… father killed about an hour before police arrived… son missing… it seems you also inherited your grandfather's ability to attract trouble.”

 “I didn’t do it! I-I mean- I didn’t mean to do it-”

 “Relax, I like trouble!” The woman said, putting the ID and newspaper clipping back in his wallet and tossing it to him. Carson’s mind shifted back to the body he knew was at the back of the alley and the baseball bat.

 “You’re in luck kid!” The woman said, throwing her arm over his shoulders and starting to lead them out of the alley. “If you are even half as cool as your grandpa, we will get along just fine. Trust me, we're gonna have a 'hell-raising' time!"

 “I don’t feel lucky… who... are you?”

 “You can call me Josie. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Carson!”

#themerrywhumpofmay #mwmday3 #original characters #original fiction #original writing #original #ocs #creative writing #writing #tw implied murder #tw assault #tw death #fantasy #totally didn't forget to give Josie facial piercings in my last couple posts #Hidden and Forgotten

[sk8thematchablossom]

Studio Bones really saw our insane reaction to Cherry getting his shit kicked in in episode 9 and said “HMMMMM you know, we have like 6 other main characters on this show with equally breakable bones...”

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #matcha blossom #renga #sk8 episode 10 #sk8 shadow #WE WERE LOSING OUR SHIT #JUMPED IN AN ALLEY THEN BEAT WITH A BASEBALL BAT THEN RUN OVER BY A CAR??? #WHAT THE FUCK

[yespleasetommyshelby]

Love in the 21st - Jay Halstead Fic - Three

"We got a name, Omar Rojas." I said loudly as me and Jay got back up to the bullpen, going over to the printer and grabbing his photo that I had printed on the way here, wireless is a wonderful thing, and slapping it up on the board next to the two who are now headless.

"Alright, this guys got priors for drugs, assault, carrying a weapon, the usual. Except he is a member of the Columbian Cartel." Jay explained as he took a seat on the edge of his desk.

"Good job, see if there's anything else you can dig up on this guy, friends, family, known locations." He instructed just as his phone rang. "Excuse me."

A whistle coming from the top of the stairs caught everyone's attention, Al had been over to the academy and pulled someone out to help us out. The guy he had got was tall and he had dark blonde/brownish hair.

"Guys, this is Adam Ruzek, Adam this is intelligence." He briefly introduced before he looked over at Erin. "Where's Voight?"

"Uh, he took a call, he went down the hall." She answered nodding her head in the direction he went, with a nod Al made his way past.

"Antonio Dawson, welcome to intelligence." Dawson got up and introduced himself, everyone following suit as they met the second newbie today, sighing to myself slightly I stood up and walked over being the last one to introduce myself.

"Hey, Kylie Platt fellow newbie." I smiled shaking his hand, that were real soft by the way.

"Adam Ruzek, and I wasn't told there was another newbie." He smiled looking down at me.

"Uh yeah, I was transferred here this morning, although I didn't know I would be in intelligence until a couple days before I started." I laughed slightly thinking back to how shocked I was when Trudy first told me.

"We must be real good at what we do then." He joked winking at me, he was about to say something else before he was interrupted.

"Hey Kylie, wanna grab a coffee?" Erin asked coming up besides me with a 'let's go' kind of look on her face.

"Uh, yeah sure." I said kind of unsure giving Adam a small smile before following Erin into the break room.

"Listen, I just wanted to let you know that if I was you, I wouldn't get romantically involved with anyone here." She smiled slightly pouring herself a cup of coffee as I made myself a tea, never a fan of coffee.

"What? Adam? I just met the guy like five minutes ago." I said confused.

"No, I don't mean him I just mean in general, ya girls have gotta look out for each other, I'm mainly letting you know because of Voight, he really does not approve of in-house romances." She said with a slight smile grabbing her mug before walking out into the bullpen.

"Hey Erin." I called making her look back over her shoulder. "Thank you, for the advice." I smiled receiving one in return.

"There's one last hit, I've arranged a meet with another deal Xavier." Voights voice booms as he strolls into the bullpen, putting yet another picture up on the board. "Ruzek you're up, you're gunna pose as a buyer and get this guy to set you up with his boss." Voight pointed at the newest newbie.

----------

The meet was a success, the Xavier guy was quick to roll on another guy, his whereabouts currently being traced by Chicago's finest tech whizz Sheldon Jin, speaking of which.

"I got a location boss." His voice sounded from the hallway as he practically ran through to Voight's office.

"Alright, lets gear up, Platt you ride with me." He said nodding to me.

"Uh, yes, Sarge." I nodded as he walked away. "Okay, what did I do?" I asked the rest of the guys who were getting ready to move out.

"Probably for your baseball practice earlier."Jay grinned as I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What baseball practice?" Antonio asks as we make our way down to the armory.

"You haven't heard how we got Omar's name?" He asked looking over at me with a sly grin on his face.

"I haven't, how'd you get it?" Adam asked as the rest of them shook their heads that they didn't know either.

"It was simple, he told us, anything Jay says is a lie." I lied narrowing my eyes at Jay.

"That doesn't sound right." Adam chuckled going along with Jay, Jackass.

"It's not, mini Platt here took the guys bat and started swinging it around the store, there was shit flying everywhere. He was so pissed man." Jay laughed loudly, the rest of the team joining in.

"Ha ha ha, you're real funny, you know that?" I laughed sarcastically.

"Come on mini Platt, I've already told you it was badass, Voight probably just wants to know if it went down the way he was told or something." Jay said throwing his arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, oh and by the way until you stop with the 'mini Platt' nickname you've got going on, you will be further known as chuckles." I smile sarcastically at him as the rest of the team got geared up.

"That'll never stick." He laughed shaking his head checking my vest was secure, just as Adam walked back in.

"We're ready to roll, you guys good?" He asked looking between my narrowed eyes and Jay's laughing face.

"We're good man, right mini Platt?" He chuckled raising an eyebrow at me.

"Wait, it just clicked, you're the niece aren't you." Adam asked wide eyed as he looked down at me.

"You're way too good for intelligence Ruzek." I laughed sarcastically patting his chest, turning and walking out towards the cars, hearing Jay's laughter as I went. "C'mon Chuckles we've gotta go!" I yelled grinning back at him as I watched how the laughter stopped and he narrowed his eyes at me for a change.

-----------

We were about five minutes away from our location when Voight turned to look at me slightly before looking back at the road again, this is all the fifteen minute drive has been, him looking at me every now and again.

"Hey, did I do something wrong?" I asked looking at the side of his face, watching how a small smirk made its way onto his ever resting bitch face.

"I heard about what happened in that store." He said without looking at me.

"I didn't hurt anybody and I got the name, what's the issue?" I asked shrugging my shoulders. "I mean sure some of his goods are now unsaleable but that's his fault for not telling me when I first asked." I carried on looking out of my window.

"You did good kid." He smiled at me as he stopped the car before something behind me caught his attention. "Damn it." He muttered as he got out of the car and went over to a guy wearing a suit, who I believe is the Lieutenant from violent crimes.

"Approaching the apartment now." Jules' voice came through on the com as her, Antonio, Erin and Jay made their way inside the building.

"You didn't think to tell me this why?!" Voights yell carried through the air, grabbing his walkie. "Suspect is believed to be in the building! I repeat Pulpo is in the building." He yelled into his radio just as gunshots were heard coming from the apartment block.

"Officer down! Officer down! Jules has been hit in the neck!" Erin's panicked voice came through the coms causing my blood to run cold.

"Pulpo's heading out the back exit of the building, he's armed." Antonio's breathless voice came through the radio.

"All units go! This guy shot one of our own, I don't care if he walks out." Voight ordered, nodding I took off knowing exactly what he meant, if you get the shot, take it.

"He's heading south through the alley that runs along the north side of the building." Adam's voice came through.

Stopping in my tracks I turned around jumping in one of the SUV's and taking off to where I knew that the exit to the alley was. Just as I made it to the alley a loud bang was heard as a body ran straight into the side of the car, falling to the ground with a thud, jumping out I raised my weapon and held my aim on the guy groaning in pain on the floor.

"Chicago PD! Stay down and put your hands behind your head," I yelled kicking the gun that he'd dropped away from him, Jay and Adam appearing seconds after. "What's up chuckles, too quick for you?" I laughed as he knelt down and cuffed Pulpo.

"Smart thinking." Adam panted leaning up against the car with a small smile on his face.

"Why, thank you." I smiled helping Jay stand Pulpo up and shove him in the back of the car.

-----------

"My god, I can not wait to go home and just forget all about today." I muttered from my place infront of Trudy's desk as I nurse my now cold cup of tea. Jules didn't make it, the bullet that hit her caught an artery, she had bled out before she'd even made it to med.

"I know Kyles, I still can't believe that he kept the fact that the bastard was in the building, if he would've just told Voight she'd still be alive." Trudy muttered narrowing her eyes at a figure who was in the captains office. Lieutenant Belden of violent crimes, absolute scum if you ask me.

Nodding in agreement I turned round just as Belden left the office, bad timing for him though as an extremly pissed off Voight stormed into the building.

"You did this!" He yelled as he charged at Beldon shoving him into the wall behind him. "You got her killed!" He yelled pointing his finger in his face.

Trudy was quick to come round and push him away, pushing against his chest as other officers grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Not the time or place Sergeant." Trudy told him seriously as she let go and pointed upstairs. "Go on." She told him receiving a slight glare from him before he stormed off slamming the gate behind him.

"Everyone back to work!" She yelled at the patrolmen who were stood watching the scene unfold. They quickly went back to their business. "And that, is just a taste of why you do not mess with Hank Voight and his unit." She sighed walking back round to her side of the desk.

"Platt, get back upstairs now." Voight's loud voice caught me off guard as he rushed back down the stairs and past the desk towards the garage type place where the cage sits, our private interview room for pieces of shit such as Pulpo. Which is currently where Antonio is, hopefully beating him senseless for what he did to Jules.

"What's going on Sarge?" I asked as me and Trudy looked at him confused.

"Antonio's son has been kidnapped." He said lowly before he went, I'm guessing, to the cage to get Dawson.

"Oh shit." I muttered to myself spinning round and sprinting up the stairs to intelligence.

#jay halstead fic #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead imagine #one chicago pd imagine #one chicago imagine #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd fic #love in the 21st three

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 51 - Eye of a Hurricane

Title: Irreverent Pt. 51 - Eye of a Hurricane

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~3K

Trigger Warning: Torture, Canon Typical Violence

A/N: I’m posting Chapters 51 and 52 at the same time. Make sure you read them in order. And if you haven’t read 50 (posted yesterday) definitely read that first. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

It's a sluggishly slow progression towards consciousness as you battle a heavy head and dazed mind, both serving only to deter coherent thought. Your awareness is comprised only of sensation – a cold and dark room, hard chair, your mouth was dry. As you attempt to move, you come to realize that your wrists are bound behind your back and your ankles are tied to the legs of a chair, while the same rough material was corded around your torso, keeping you tied and upright in the chair. What should have been a terrifying realization, was dulled by the presence of some drug you'd been injected with. It would account for all of the symptoms you're experiencing, especially how your mouth felt like it could compete with the Sahara for driest places known to man.

Your mind reels, attempting to piece together how you had come to be in your current predicament. You'd been awaiting Easter at your agreed upon spot for your check-in. You'd stood with your back to the wall, aware of your surroundings. It had been a complete ambush, a gun from nowhere pressed to the side of your head, three large men, all armed, as they forced you into an alley way. They'd been able to get the jump on you as you were severely outnumbered. The last thing you can recall with any degree of clarity is the sharp sting of a needle, pressed to the side of your neck. It would explain quite a bit about how you're feeling at the moment.

Blinking slowly, carefully, you allow your sensitive eyes to adjust to the dim yellow lighting of the room. Keeping your head tilted downwards still, you take in the concrete grey flooring and walls. You focus on taking in as much as you can without alerting your captors to the fact that you're awake. That would immediately tip the scales in their favor.

There is a stale smell lingering in the room, as though from a lack of use. Dust is collecting in the crevices. It's not cared for. Likely a spare room or basement. There are no windows as far as you're able to tell. Behind you, there is a clock that ticks, the sound of it echoing loudly in the quiet of the room.

How long had you been there?

Cautiously lifting your head, you appraise the room you're in. There, in front of you about three feet away, is a table with what looked like various weapons on it. From your position, you can make out knives, a baseball bat, what appears to be a taser, and what could be a fire poker.

You had to get out.

Your bindings have no give, you quickly learn. You couldn't wriggle out of them if you tried.

If you move quickly, you could inch your way towards the table. You might be able to bend down and grab one of the knives with your mouth and use it – somehow – to cut the rope or at least loosen it enough to be able to escape. After you've accomplished that, you'd have to get out of wherever you were being held.

Figuring out why you'd been taken in the first place would have to wait.

You clench, tensing your body and using the leverage of your feet pressed to the floor to jump up and forward in the chair, attempting to drag it forward with you, in the direction of the table. It moves about an inch or two.

With a frustrated sigh, you tense once more, preparing to repeat the action. Just as the balls of your feet have pressed into the ground, there's a clicking sound from behind you and you can hear the door opening. You freeze in place. You should've known they were watching.

Heavy footsteps reverberate against the concrete flooring while you refuse to turn around. Let them come and face you themselves.

"Good, you're awake." The deep voice carries with it a shot of dread that you hadn't quite felt yet since you'd awoken. It cuts through the dullness of feeling and thought, jumpstarting the dormant panic into full gear.

A large man with dark hair and crystal light eyes stands before you, blocking your pathway towards the table you had been inching your way towards. He's dressed casually in dark clothing, there's a scar running down his neck. In his hands is a gun, held almost casually, as though it were merely an afterthought. As though he's quite confident in his ability to over power you without it.

You watch apprehensively, body tensed up, as he leans one hip against the table, perching on it lightly. His cold, steely eyes pore into you, running over your body and taking in your state. His gaze feels predatory as it runs over you in the worst of ways, causing a chill to run down your spine. He watches you as though you're prey and he's a hunter – the kind that collects trophies to hang up above the mantle. He lingers on your eyes, and you can tell he's checking to see if you're still drugged or if you were fully capable now.

You remain quiet, waiting for him to speak first, the two of you locked in and staring at one another. You don't know why you're here, why they took you. You surely don't recognize him. Behind him, you can see a dark glass pane that you hadn't noticed before, beyond which you assume his partners wait, watching both you and him.

"I am going to ask you questions," he says evenly, breaking the silence once more, his eyes boring into yours. "Every time you don't answer or you lie to me, you will regret it. Am I clear?" His voice, low and dark, matches the tone of the room. It's not exactly threatening, more clinical in a way. It's like he's playing a part, doing a job. Like you're his last patient of the day and he's eager to get home early and catch the game. You want to say his heart isn't quite in it, but that wasn't right either. It's more so that he has better things to do than waste his time with you, and yet here is.

You don't acknowledge or answer his question asking if you'd understood, and you can tell he doesn't like to be ignored. His brow furrows ever so slightly, nostrils flaring as he mutters low under his breath, turning and placing the gun on the table behind him. He sets it down and then turns back towards you and you can see he'd grabbed something from the table. Brass knuckles by the looks of it, as he slides them on, flexing his large muscular hands as he does. It's meant to intimidate you, scare you. It does its job.

You take a deep breath, still watching him quietly as you mentally reassure yourself that it would all be alright. That Clyde would of course be looking for you. He'd know you were missing when you hadn't been there waiting for him. He would find you and rescue you from whatever this was. Until then, you had only one job: survival. They wouldn't break you.

He strides forward until he's right up against you, his knees brushing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, feel the coarse denim of his jeans against your bare knees. The dress that you'd been wearing undercover is bunched up underneath your thighs.

You look up at him defiantly as he stands before you in silence, as though still waiting for you to speak. You wouldn't. You needed to know how much they knew first. He asks for your name first and you provide him with the fake name on the ID in your bag. That earns you a quick, sharp jab to the side that has you keeling over and grunting in pain as the hard metal ridges of the brass knuckles connects with your ribcage. You try to absorb the hit, try to remember everything you've learned from sparring with both Derek and Clyde. Try to stifle your pained groan.

You take a breath and look back at him, ignoring the bruised and burning pain in your side. If you're not mistaken, there's a chance he just cracked a rib.

They know who you are.

The realization causes your panicked brain to go into overdrive as you sift through who could possibly want to use you to get to any information. What they would do with it.

He asks next about Project Atlantis. He asks who else has access to the list. Who else is on the list. How to gain access to it.

Every lie you tell, every time you stay silent, he rewards you with another hit. Another part of your body bruised and broken as he goes through a litany of questions, marking you up as he goes. The tears slip unwanted. The cries come out despite any attempt to not give him the satisfaction.

Where the hell was Clyde?!

Each time, you force yourself to look back at him. To let him know that he hasn't beat you. To let him know that it wouldn't be so easy. To challenge him to do worse.

He does.

Your body becomes a work of art, painted with the red of your blood, the deep purple bruising of your skin. The colors meld and blend together with the salt of your tears.

It hurts to breathe. He's bruised a couple of ribs and shallow breaths are all you can manage through the excruciating pain of drawing a single breath in properly. If he doesn't stop soon, you'll start to hyperventilate. You can't do that. You can't let him win that way. You blink through the tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn't stop those if you tried. It hurts. It all hurts too much.

There is no escape from the constant barrage of questions and from the assault that follows. In the back of your mind there lingers a silent, crying hope that Clyde is out there looking for you but that is it. Otherwise it's all you can do to remain present and conscious to resist simply giving him what he wants in exchange for a respite.

After a certain point, the pain wasn't even really pain anymore. It was as though your body knew, that in order to survive, it had to shield you from feeling the full thrust of all that he had inflicted on you. It knew that if you were to stand a chance, you had to not feel it. The numbness settles in through a haze as your mind goes cloudy once more. You're barely meeting his eyes anymore, try as you might. Your body strains and struggles to stay aware. In the brief moments of respite that he offers you, as he changes from the brass knuckles to the poker, you can't even bring it in yourself to fear what's coming next.

Your mind flits to Aaron. The last time you'd seen him, as you kissed him goodbye and walked out to the waiting cab. He wouldn't know to worry. He'd think you were busy with work. He'd think that you'd return his calls soon enough. He'd think you were alright.

Thinking of him and Jack is the only thing that has you even trying to lift your head once more. Keeps you coming back each time. Keeps you looking your captor in the eye.

You had to make it through. You had to keep bouncing back. You had to endure and persist.

For them.

For him.

Not again.

They can't go through that again.

It's that thought that has you lifting your head, meeting those stony grey eyes once more.

*------------*

Emily would want the Birkins.

That was the first coherent thought that came to mind when you'd become conscious once more. He'd stopped once you'd become unresponsive.

Thoughts of escaping had long since abandoned you. It would be pointless. You were entirely unmatched. Even if you could defeat them, you'd first have to stand, and you're not entirely sure that's a feat you're capable of any longer. Keeping your eyes open was far too difficult a task on its own.

Your mind behaves oddly. Thoughts fleetingly temporary and confused as you contend with the notion that you might not escape. That you might die here.

Aaron would have to pick an outfit for the funeral. He'd have to go to your closet and pick out something to wear for you to be buried in.

Jack would need a new suit.

The bike – that should go to John.

The house was Aaron's.

The rest was Jack's.

There was no one else.

Would he get a body? Or would he bury an empty coffin with your name on the headstone?

If he knew what you were thinking – how you were thinking – he'd be furious.

You're next woken with a jolt as two pairs of uncaring and callous hands work together to lift you up. You thrash and scream, your voice horrifically hoarse as you feel them place you down on the table you'd noticed off to the side earlier. Thick, rough, leather restraints bind you down and hold you to the table.

You can't move. Try as you might, you can't get out.

He asks you again, giving you a final chance. Your stomach coils in fear and panic as tears well in your eyes and stream down your cheeks anew.

You beg them to not do this. You beg them to let you go. I have a son, please. I have son! Please let me go. Please don’t –

You know what's coming next.

His frosty, pale eyes are the last thing you see before a coarse rag covers your face. You prepare yourself. Remind yourself that you won't die. Not like this.

You'll be alright. You'll be alright. You'll be al –

The first onslaught of harsh, cold water beating down on your head has the force of a current rippling through your veins.

You can't breathe.

There's a warbled scream that shouts out and it takes you far too long to realize it was your own.

Your heart is beating faster than ever as the unrelenting assault continues. Blood pounding in your head as you thrash about as much as possible.

Frigid water fills your nose, your throat, leaving you gasping for air.

Your fingers claw at the table, catching splinters of wood in the nailbed.

Your head feels full as though it's floating in the ocean during a storm.

Gasping and screaming when you could manage it, lungs drowning underneath the punishing weight as it rained down upon you, your body fighting against the riptide.

It went on and it went on.

Unrelenting.

Neverending.

Right at the precipice – when your screams were silent, your limbs motionless, the cruel waves kept drowning you underneath the tide  – right as you became certain of one thing and one thing only: this was the end. Just as you arrived at that conclusion – it all went away. Dissipated into thin air.

You were floating into a fog, light as could be.

The dulcet tones of singing children at Jack's spring recital, as he waves at you from the stage.

The team at Karaoke night, drunk as can be, singing out of sync.

The rooftop in Ibiza, legs dangling as you sat between John and Julian, a bottle passed between the three of you.

Ricky picking you up at midnight, watching the sun rise over the sea with the boys huddled around you.

Aaron in the kitchen, his beautiful voice humming along to the music.

Aaron on the plane next to you, his hand held tightly in yours.

Aaron peacefully asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling, the richness of his warmth enveloping you entirely.

His face was the last thing you saw.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries #hotch x you #hotch x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

[samiralula01]

Jason Todd is the Anti-Batman

* A pointless rambling of the relationship and parallels between Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd.

Picture this opening scene: There are two boys in a dark alley.

One is dressed in an expensive suit with a tie his dead father helped him with only earlier that evening. His hands are stained red with the same blood now puddled on the grimy cement. His face is in shock.

The second boy is dressed in tattered jeans and hoodie. His hands are stained with tires grease and are clutching a tire iron. His face is in shock.

Decades later, there are two more scenes to consider.

A seriously injured man sits slumped over in his father’s study. Without warning, a bat crashes through the window, and everything falls into place. He now knows what he needs to do.

Elsewhere, an emotionally distraught teenager is curled up into a fetal position on a hotel room floor. Heart wrenching cries can be heard from him. But it is only momentary. He now knows what he needs to do.

These two individuals are Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd. While they are both broken and determined men, Batman is a hero. The Red Hood is not. He is the anti-Batman and this is why.

Two Boys in an Alleyway

Despite similarities in their stories’ early themes and elements, Bruce and Jason came to walk down very different paths. One of justice, and the other vengeance. Batman is determined to protect the innocent and Jason more so on punishing the guilty. Both their ideologies have intrinsic flaws, of course, and will naturally clash often. But this wasn’t always the case.

Before they became a father and son perpetually in mourning for who they once were and what could have been, Bruce and Jason were remarkably similar. The two are cut from the same cloth and Bruce knows this better than anyone else.

In the Dumpster Slasher three-part story line, (Batman #414, #421, #422) Bruce becomes emotional. Violent. He sits in the batcave alone that night and contemplates his emotions.

“Nearly blew it. I let it get too personal. Lost my detachment...nearly lost control. Almost beat Cutter to death. Wouldn’t have been any big loss.”

Only one issue later, at the end of this story arc, Robin is out on the streets and becomes angry when he happens upon a pimp is threatening a prostitute with a knife. Now, I want you to compare his line here to Bruce’s and note what Jim Gordon said to him as well.

Batman: "I think he’s had enough, Robin. What were you trying to do, kill him?" Robin (Jason): “Would it’ve been that big of a loss if I had?”

It is important to note here that Batman is not worried or upset just because Jason roughs up a pimp. That would be hypocritical considering his own earlier actions. If anything, it’s because one of the main reasons Batman even takes in these kids, these ‘robins,’ is because he doesn’t want them to be like him.

And Jason was acting just like him.

Jason can and has screwed up and failed due to his own actions, but it was never the reason Batman became upset with him. His reactions in the comics when Jason does things like running ahead and ‘jumping the gun,’ are more like this:

He either makes a teaching moment out of it or is attempts to understand Jason’s reasons in doing any such thing. When Bruce does become harsh in his discipline, it’s either when he feels as though Jason has endangered his own life or as I said, he acts too much like him.

While there are quite a few more similarities between Bruce and Jason that makes them alike, such as both being introverted and interested in obtaining all sorts of knowledge that they might not even feel is relevant, they are both, at the core of their characters, deeply caring and compassionate people.

The differences only start to show with how they act on it.

The Not-So Dynamic Duo?

“What happened to you as a child, the terror, the pain, the horrors (...) you were broken, and I thought I could put the pieces back together. I thought I could do for you what could never be done for me. Make you whole.”

Hot take. Jason Todd is a villain and is best written as a villain. 

Not in that campy way like he’s written during Dick and Damian’s Batman and Robin run while wearing that stupid pill-headed hood, (although, I grant he has a few lines that are enjoyable to read) but in all his serious, vengeful and downright brutal motives. 

The Red Hood is the perfect Batman villain because he’s so different from what the widely perceived perfect foil to the controlled and disciplined Bat is...the Joker. 

The Red Hood was vengeance at its purest. It is justice without being tempered by mercy. It is the rage of victims who were forgotten to become statistics. While other vigilantes wait for a cure, hope for rehabilitation, and pretend their system works, the Red Hood is a man of no such faith.

And this makes him a villain. And a damn good one.

During the Red Hood’s time as a crime lord in Gotham, he goes around blowing up buildings. He throws grenades into trucks. He mows down his competition with gunfire. Batman comes upon the bloodied hanged corpse of a man he was finished interrogating. 

But what is so compelling about this all is that before all the murder, all the guns and explosions, Jason Todd was a very different little boy. And all the great and memorable villains start that way.

The Joker is not someone you’re meant to sympathize with or even understand. In fact, I find him more terrifying because he’s unknown. He has no backstory (unless you want to believe the one he gave in Killing Joke, but the clown has a new story for every face he meets) and seemingly does what he does for a laugh of all things.

Jason Todd is in pain. He’s traumatized. Betrayed. Buried. Replaced. He is no one’s son because his father abandoned him.

Once upon a time, Jason Todd was a boy who saved himself. One of the biggest lies that Batman himself perpetuates is that he saved Jason from a life of crime. He tells Alfred that Jason was always dangerous. Bruce simply took him off the streets before he could be any worse.

But I don’t believe that’s true.

Jason grew up surrounded by crime, poverty, substance abuse and yet this amazing kid saved himself everyday by making a conscious choice to be kind and care about school, care about keeping his mother alive for over a year when he was just a child himself. That amazing kid was magic. 

Jason Todd as Robin was magic.

“Jason smiles. A bright smile. The kind Robin, the Boy Wonder should have.”

A good portion of his character’s assassination was in order to push the Tim is the perfect Robin idea. It was editorial decisions. The same ‘suits’ who insisted that Tim Drake be the Robin in the New Adventures cartoon despite having Jason’s backstory and personality. But I digress on that. 

Jason Todd was an introverted, studious, and emphatic person. He wanted to make friends with other kids his age even though he was a loner at heart. He joined the school baseball team and was a class officer, even if his training kept him from most social interactions.

He was also very much in tune with non-verbal cues and small changes in the environment around him. He was a thoughtful person who could be found admiring the stars or passing by scenery. When he teams up with the New Teen Titans, we get to see these aspects of his personality:

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful before. We’re actually riding above the clouds.”

“Every so often, I notice you become awfully agitated...like something was going on you didn’t want to be part of. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

It didn’t take Bruce long to fall in love with this boy and ask to legally adopt him. He found him to be smart, thoughtful, quick at learning and funny as hell. Their first meeting opens with Batman laughing in the very same alley his heart was ripped out decades earlier. 

Even in the Rebirth canon, (RHATO #48) we see that Bruce is already set on taking in Jason while he’s still with Ma Gunn’s school. He likes this kid. A lot.

“Butler, actually. You’ll meet him someday, I’m sure.”

Jason Todd was happy. Most of the time. Unfortunately, he still wrestled with depression and would sleep all day on occasion and could be found crying hidden away on his own, withdrawn from the concerned Bruce and Alfred.

In A Death in the Family, Alfred and Bruce sit down and discuss Jason’s worsening mental health, particularly after the Diplomat’s Son where Jason becomes witness to sexual assault, suicide and the failings of both Batman and the GCPD to protect innocent people. Barbara, his tutor, someone he cared about and got along with, is also shot a few months earlier.

Bruce thinks Jason has become suicidal. Alfred does not disagree with this theory and supplements it with things he’s observed himself about the ‘lad.’

“I’ve come upon him, several times, looking at that battered old photograph of his mother and father, crying. When he’s seen me, he’s hidden the picture and left the room, refusing to talk.”

It is then that Jason discovers the truth about his mother at the worst possible time, when he’s not even thinking straight, and thus leads way to the tragedy that will be his murder at the hand’s of the Joker.

The Curse of Jason Todd

“Do you have any idea what you have done?! Do you? You have no inkling of what you’ve created -- what you have unleashed! You have set free a curse upon this world!”

Red Hood: Lost Days, which depicts Jason’s dark post-resurrection origin, opens with Ra’s al Ghul bellowing this line, the steam from the Lazarus Pit still rising off of him. 

I’m not going to analyze this line, I’m just using it to supplement a point of mine I hope I’m getting through well enough. The Red Hood is a compelling, tragic villain. He is similar to Batman in ways that Bruce always knew and may have even feared because of how intimately he knows his own deepest, darkest thoughts. Jason is the perfect foil as an antagonist for him because of what he represents to Bruce.

And it’s not his anger, or his rage, or even his brutality. 

It’s his compassion. His caring. His emotions. And how they can open up the worst parts of themselves. 

Both are motivated by preventing whatever trauma happened to them from ever happening to anyone else. They both trained for years with this motivation. And they’ve both acted out on the very person who inflicted their trauma onto them.

Here’s where their paths start to differ, however, and what separates them with a line of morality.

They both get angry. They both care so damn much. About Gotham, about innocents, about each other. They both get too emotionally invested and deal with consequences related to that. To manage with that, Bruce shuts down. He creates all these choices, rules and symbols. He uses every ounce of his self control to keep them. 

Bruce Wayne is not a good person. He forces himself to be with discipline and will. He chooses to be a good man and constantly pushes himself to live up to that. Because it’d be too damn easy to be just like the Red Hood.

Jason doesn’t understand that. Because no matter what Bruce had done or will do, he doesn’t hate him. He can’t. Despite his denial of the fact to different people, he still thinks of Bruce as his father. This great figure that so many others revere and are even intimidated by.

He’s not the only bat-kid to think of Bruce in this light despite the fact that the man is not. It took Dick years to overcome that perception. Tim only just started to begin understanding this true nature after his own father was murdered. 

But even if he did understand his (once)father, he still became the complete opposite of him despite so many early parallels. He doesn’t hold back his words and emotions, he doesn’t go into a state of controlled dissociation or emotional disengagement.

Jason Todd—the Red Hood—is Batman without all his rules and control. In a way, he’s what the darkest part of Batman himself wants to be. Jason does what Batman can’t do when it’s needed.

Because in Batman’s book, life beats out justice. Even if he could take down abusers and murderers, he won’t. He will choose saving and protecting lives over the apprehension of killers...he always does.

Batman is justice. Red Hood is vengeance.

Jason is a victim’s fantasy. He punishes and kills the guilty. Something Batman won’t do.

He is the anti-Batman for better or for worse.

#jason todd #bruce wayne #comic meta

[janewatson]

Helluva Boss Trailer Analysis!

Yes, I watch this.  Yes, I like it.  No, I won’t argue with you about it.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s just say that I was up when the trailer dropped, and was still up for a bit after.  I’ve watched it so many times now, just absorbing everything, and now it’s time to break it down.

I’ve seen a few breakdowns already, but I noticed that there were a few things people hadn’t mentioned.  So I’m tossing my hat in the ring, let’s see if we can figure out what Vivziepop has in store for us!

I’ll be breaking down by scene, as well as go over voiceovers and predictions real quick, so prepare for a read after the cut!

Ok, first, had to laugh at Millie’s Peppermint Vodka Molotov Cocktail.  Creative, but what a waste of vodka :(  The background is of a beach, but she’s not in beach clothes (let’s face it, a bikini would probably kill Moxxie)

Moxxie is shooting at something while he’s swinging from a rope in a deserted theater.  Piano on the floor, and a sun pattern on the back wall

Blitzø (thanks for the copy/paste, Google) cleaving a blonde in half with a baseball bat.  Damn, he stronk!

Diss Summar’, with the little doodles!  So cute :3

Drunk/drugged/in shock Moxxie, poor Millie, and something big bursting out from the water behind.  Tied to first scene?

Stolas’ ‘Special Access’ bit from the Sneak Peeks, talking about the Harvest Moon festival in Wrath

Moxxie and Blitzø in a green lit room, looks like a two-way mirror on the wall.  Interrogation?

Correction to ‘Diss Season’ XD  Hopefully that means we’ll get an episode before spring, but if they need more time, that’s understandable

Glammed up Stolas at some kind of burlesque, owned by Asmodeus ‘Ozzie’, Prince of Hell’s Lust circle.  Wonder why he’s there...

CHERUBS!!!  Also from the Sneak Peeks, we know that this is a commercial, and that the TV showing said commercial gets blown up a few seconds later

Angry Blitzø, probably yelling at Moxxie, being scared shitless by a hellhound behind him.  I think this is a repo/impound/chop-shop guy who took IMP’s van, as in a later scene, they’re shown in a fence with other cars, especially because Blitzø yells ‘RUN’ at the end of the scene

Loona and Blitzø filming someone’s misery (again, probably Moxxie).  They’re in western outfits, but they’re probably still in Hell

Tentacle wrapping around drugged Moxxie and taking him, too fast for Millie to react and stop it.  Again, looks like it’s tied to the first and fifth scenes

Sassy Blitzø, probably talking to the repo-hellhound or punching-bag Moxxie.  Same setting as scene 11

Blitzø running to the window of what looks like a recording studio, with ‘VM’ spray painted on the doors next to him.  He looks distraught, but it’s not clear why

Recently choked-out Moxxie recovering, while being frame by a spiny-tailed Imp wearing what I assume is a serape, since it looks like they’re on the ranch Loona and Blitzø cheered a poor soul, scene 12

DEPRESSED BIRD DADDY.  WHY ARE YOU SAD???  IS IT GONNA MAKE ME SAD??? OH NO I’M NOT READY unless its a flashback, but stilllll

Perturbed Blitzø holding his special flintlock in a western-themed room.  Looks like he has his outfit from scene 12 on, probably the same episode, but whatever happened/is going to happen, it’s not good

Dressed-up Moxxie, who probably jumped bombed a performance, is upstaged by Robo Fizz and most likely a Robo Ozzie, given the designs on its’ head(s).  He looked uneasy even before the Robos popped up, so something else was going on first.

Scaley eye blinking and getting MAD, attached to the tentacle that kidnapped Moxxie?

50% off add for Spring Break victims, complete with coffee stain, and Blitzø‘s horse doodles.  I got a mental image of Moxxie scolding Blitzø for drawing at work, so he BS’d it into an ad.

Either Blitzø is a terrible driver, or they’re trying to speed away from someone.  Repo-hound, maybe?

HUMAN!!!  Almost definitely a human pop-star singing on a Coachella-esque stage!  I tried to fill in her name, but could only get ideas of what some letters were.  Her initials are most likely VM, from the recording studio scene, but the bottoms of some letters could be an E or L, K or R, so we’re left with V~(L/E)(K/R)OSI(K/R)A MA~~.  It also looks like she’s wearing heels, so she may be the person who threw Blitzø in a later scene

Moxxie about to be trampled by what can only be a horse, given his outfit.  Loona and Blitzø are probably filming XD

Shocked Stolas, standing up at table.  Same outfit as the burlesque, but he doesn’t looked surprised enough that it’s the part where Moxxie is upstaged, more something emotionally jarring.  Blitzø kissing someone else, maybe?

Blitzø pushing Moxxie out of the way and pinning him just outside a Hell portal in an alley, most likely Earth.  Blitzø looks mad, and rightly so, as he’s looking a little beat up himself.  Connected to the interrogation scene?

Happy Blitzø turns horrified outside some elevators with Moxxie.  Judging by the water cooler in the back, I think he’s about to slam into the recording studio.  Behind him, Moxxie gives no shits

Blitzø looking miffed, maybe at something Moxxie said.  Looks like the same scene with the repo-hound, as the setting itself looks like an impound lot, with the IMP van smack-dab in the middle of it.  I love that the license plate is IMP-666 though

Unhappy Blitzø (ok, let’s be honest, when IS he happy?)

Moxxie swinging Millie around in the deserted theater, passionately frenching each other

Blitzø getting pushed down by a horned, high-heeled... someone.  Again, might be the pop star from earlier, but there’s horns...  Maybe the pop star is human-passing, and has an alternate demonic form, like the Hazbin Hotel cast?

Western-clad Blitzø pulling his flintlock on someone, most likely before scene 18.  Most definitely Hell, judging by the poster and previous scenes, but I’m digging the décor

Blitzø not getting a break at all during this trailer and being yeeted into a dumpster, which closes on him.  Gonna take a stab and say it’s outside the burlesque Stolas and Moxxie were in, from the colors and posters of Lust Ring, Personal Companion Robo-Fizz, and Angel Dust.

The next scene is of him climbing out of a dumpster to fall into another pile of trash.  He just doesn’t get a break, does he?  It doesn’t look like the dumpster outside the burlesque, but it is similar to the alley with the hell portal, where Blitzø pinned Moxxie.  Maybe not the same scene, but most likely same episode.

Editor being absolutely plastered, teasing all the fun stuff to come in 2021, since 2020 can go f*ck itself.

And that’s a really in-depth breakdown of all the scenes in the trailer!  Now, for the voiceovers.

First, Loona’s asking if anyone ‘Can feel that?’.  Interesting thing to ask, so we’ll have to wait and see what catastrophe happens

Millie gently yelling at Moxxie to ‘DON’T PANIC’

A calm voice announcing an elevator’s departure to the Lust circle of Hell, which is most likely where the burlesque and Robo scenes are.  As to who is going, it’s either Stolas or the IMP crew, or maybe both?

Horny Stolas cooing ‘Oh, Blitzy!’, followed by Loona’s ‘SHUT THE F*CK UP’ from the Loo Loo Land episode.  Finally, I have a high-res clip I can set as my ringtone!

Blitzø yelling  ‘Dammit, Moxxie, this is all your fault!’, which may or may not be true since he scapegoats Moxxie, who replies ‘How is this my fault???’

Pop star asking, ‘Y’all ready to get f*cked up and make some b*tchin’ bad choices?’.  It’s most likely her talking, since the her lips synch up with her scene, and it’s a new voice we haven’t heard before.

Moxxie’s cut off ‘M*THERF*CKER!!!’.  So happy I get to hear Invader Zim go off, poor boy needs it XD

Blitzø being Blitzø and trying to tone down a big deal, stating again that he doesn’t pry into their personal lives, even though he obvious does (see Helluva Boss Pilot for more)

Robo Fizz’s line from Loo Loo Land asking if anybody loved Blitzø.  I’m gonna be honest and say that line choked me up in Loo Loo Land, and so did Blitzø’s response, until ‘But I’m really good with guns now.  DANCE, B*TCH!’

Moxxie ending with ‘That is deeply unsettling’, again from Loo Loo Land.  Throwing shade on Helluva Boss haters, maybe? :3

All right, now, predictions!

Chaos in a theater, with focus maybe on Millie and Moxxie’s relationship, maybe an origin story?  It won’t be the only one, with the tentacle beach monster and drugged Moxxie bits, so we can expect a lot of story and character development from the two of them.

Farm episode!  Blitzø either drags them onto a farm, or there’s a client who invites them, but sh*t will happen.

Really excited to see what happens in the Lust ring, and for the return of Robo Fizz!  Baby boy only got a few minutes of screen time, but is currently my favorite character.

Repo episode of rescuing the IMP van, probably resulting in overall team building and character development.  I really want to see Loona tear a new one into that *sshole-looking hellhound, though.

Pop star episode!  Really excited to meet this new character, I wonder what her name is and how close I was XD  Either Blitzø and Moxxie break into her recording studio to meet her, or she’s a client, but we’ll see!

Trapped on Earth/Run in with Earth authorities episode?  That interrogation room didn’t exactly look Hellish, and they obvious meet some kind of resistance while on Earth that looked like it was gonna get messy...

Stolas episode!  Please please please be flashback and story, I loved Loo Loo Land but really want some more lore and development on his character and maybe relationship with Blitzø.  Bird obviously needs to work through some things, and I really want to watch him grow, ever since I saw him struggle to tell Octavia why he was cheating.  Him stuttering and ultimately being unable to find a reason why really hit home, and I’m glad it was something they included since in media, it’s always ‘Well, she’s really ugly’ or ‘I don’t love him anymore’.  He still has feelings for his wife, but wanted to f*ck Blitzø too.

Even without the trailer, we do know that we’re getting episodes focusing on CHERUB and a Harvest Moon festival, but still.  There’s so much content Vivzie and Co have been working hard to make, and I can’t wait to see what they have in store for us.  Dark comedy aside, there’s so much story they can make just around these four characters, following their growth and happenings around Hell.  It’s such a cool premise and one that hasn’t been washed and worn so many times, like cop or murder shows, and I can see this going on for quite a bit.

Well, here’s to an exciting 2021!  Thank you for all your hard work, Vivizepop, keep it up!

#helluva boss #season 1 trailer #blitzø #moxxie #millie #loona #stolas #helluvaboss #vivziepop #hazbin hotel

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ THE FIGHT ❜

Second chapter of ‘Someone you loved’ with Michael ‘Riz’ Ariza.

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1.3k

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

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

One of the good things that has to be Bishop's daughter is that Taza spoils you whenever. This time, he has let you destroy a car of the scrapping, feeling how stressed you have been for the last few days. While another party is happening in the clubhouse, Leti and Gabriela accompany you through the main alley, to the farthest part of the scrap. Carrying a baseball bat in your right hand, you find an old SUV perfectly parked and ready for you. Wearing a pair of glasses and covering your hands with big gloves, the show starts while the girls drink beer and listen to your misery.

“I fucking hate him!” You scream full of rage, hitting the pilot window.

It crashes into small pieces falling to gravel on the floor. Turning at them, you raise both arms at both sides of your body.

“Can you really fucking believe it? He fucking came to me! To ask me for advice to date that… fucking bitch!” This time, you smash the rearview mirror with all your strength, beating it until it's unfixable. “I'm in front of you, man! What the fuck is wrong with you? How you didn't fucking notice my feelings?!”

You're breathing fast, hitting the pilot door several times, drawing a big dent on it. They agree with you. Everybody in the crowded yard knows about the fact that you love him, and not because you said so. But because it is obvious. Turning to the hood of the car, you grab the bat with both hands to slam it into the windshield, using all the rage running through your veins.

“Good luck catching a STD, you fucking asshole!”

Pulling back the bat, you take off the whole glass, throwing it onto the floor to jump over it repeatedly.

“I don't give a fuck about your feelings, or about your fucking love! I don't want to be your fucking friend anymore!”

The headlights explode into thousands of small pieces too with two loud roars.

“FUCK YOU, MICHAEL ARiza…” Your voice gets low as soon as you turn around again, to find him some steps away from you.

The girls turn confused too, until they see him keeping his hands in his pockets. Leti and Gabriela run away without saying a single world, in the meantime that you take off the glasses covering your eyes. Tossing down the bat, you heavily gulp. Riz takes a look at the car, before licking his lips slowly. Wanting to say something, but he can't barely breathe.

“It's not what it looks like”. You whisper terrified.

Of course, you couldn't stop being his friend if he doesn't love you back.

“Were you talking with them about what I asked you?” His voice sounds hurt, with a sorrowful gesture on his face. “I… trusted you something… personal and you told them about it?”

“I'm so—sorry, Riz, I di—”. You take a step ahead, interrupting your words, when he takes one backward.

“It's good to see that you don't care about me”.

“Don't say that. It's not true”.

“Then… why is this show about?”

Silence. You are at a crossroads. But every road leads you to lose him.

“I can't… tell you”.

Pursing his lips, he just nods. You don't even know what he has heard, but you're not going to ask him. This just could turn the situation into something worse. But he's leaving you there, alone, and you feel already as if you were dead inside.

“I love you”. You utter without thinking, but he doesn't stop his legs. “I REALLY DO!”

Nothing. You have told him these same words a lot of times, and doesn't have any value for him as you're trying to show him.

“Some… Sometimes…” Having a deep breath, you let yourself go. “SOMETIMES I HEAR YOUR VOICE NOTES WHEN I'M SAD!”

Your lungs are emptied after yelling at him. Your throat is ripped, and it stings a little, but at least he has turned around.

“Shit…” You mumble ashamed, when you see him coming back.

Swallowing your saliva, you place both hands crossed on your chest on the sides of your body, slightly raised up. Some tears falling down, seeing the confused gesture on him.

“I don't know when it happened… I just fell in love with you, Riz… I'm sorry. I tried to push… these feelings away, because I didn't want to lose you. You're my best friend. I can't imagine a day without you”. Confessing it is like taking off all the weight on your shoulders, but stabbing your heart at the same time. “I… I don't know what you have heard, but I don't… really mean that… Of course I care about you, about your feelings… I'm happy because you're happy. And I… I would never leave you just… just because you don't feel the same things I feel”.

Riz is staring at you in silence while you, practically, are putting all your shit over the table. Opening up your chest and showing him your worst fears. What gives you nightmares every single night, since Elisa came to Santo Padre. Hardly sniffing and rubbing your nose with the sleeve cuff of your hoodie, you shrug scared to death. You don't know what else you can say to make him understand why you are so angry.

“So, all those things you said in the Templo… Were you talking about me?” His tone of voice is shaking slightly, raising a hand to highlight the past. You nod.

“Since… some months ago, every time you go for a run, I write you a letter”. Confessing, you grab your phone from your pocket to show them to him, but Michael raises again his hand to stop you.

Being aware that he doesn't want to read them, literally breaks your heart. Not because of all the time you have spent on writing them, but all the things you have written on them; all your feelings, all your memories, all your fears, all the things you love about him. Hoping that, maybe, one day he would read them. Grabbing a fold of your hoodie, you put the phone inside of the pocket again, using your free hand.

“I will understand if you… pull yourself away from me. I don't… want to cause you any trouble wi—”.

“Stop talking, please”. Riz interrupts you shaking his hands raised up some inches away from his chest.

Pressing your lips, you nod in silence again, clearing the tears in your cheeks.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“For what, Michael? You and me, this is not gonna happen”. You reply, pointing at the distance between both with your forefingers, feeling how you break a little more. “We ain't made for each other”.

“Is that what you think? Then, why is it supposed that we're friends, if we don't complete the other?”

“Things are very different. It's not the same to be your friend than to be your… girlfriend”.

His phone starts to ring. Saved by the bell. Answering the call, he just listens, not uttering a single word. But when he hangs up, Riz takes a step ahead.

“I got to go, b—”.

“It's okay”. You whisper crossing your arms and bowing down your head for a second. “I didn't mean to hurt you. And I'm sorry for fucking up our friendship”.

“You didn't”.

“You're just saying that because I'm fucked enough tonight, but I will not blame you when you start to act differently with me”.

“Listen, we will be friends forever, no one will change that. And this… conversation it's not finished”.

“Okay”. You reply shrugging listlessly, trying to stop crying, even if you know it's going to be the last time you're going to be alone.

Watching him leave the scrapping is the most hard and painful goodbye you have ever experienced. And you want to run after him. Beg him to not push you away. Ask him to forgive you. But your legs don't receive the orders from your brain, because you know you have already lost him.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #riz ariza x reader #michael riz ariza x reader #riz ariza #michael riz ariza

[thesightstoshowyou]

Prey in the Snow

Featuring Marigold, my Final Girl OC and Graham, my Slasher OC

Summary: An unconventional love story: Girl meets boy. Girl flirts with boy. Boy roofies girl. Boy hunts girl for sport.

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, swearing, drugging, drinking, weapons, supernatural elements

~~

            Raucous laughter erupts near the pool tables. The match has finally ended, Jeff victorious and rubbing Derek’s loss in his face. Marigold smiles over her beer at the antics. She shrugs further in her jacket when the front door swings open, icy air pouring into the little bar along with a couple that must stomp off the snow clinging to their boots.

             His gloating now complete, Jeff asks, “Where’s Tanya and Silvie? It’s their turn.”

             “Oh, they’re trying to flirt with that guy at the bar,” Marigold motions to the bar top with her beer. Two of her friends stand giggling next to a good-looking guy in a camouflage baseball cap. He’s hunched over his beer and Marigold has yet to see him crack a smile.

             “Yeah, he’s not biting. Go and rescue them, would ya?” Jeff asks, batting his eyelashes. Marigold raises an eyebrow, fixing Jeff with a withering look, “Oh, c’mon, Goldie. You need to get laid. It’s been foreverrrr. Besides, he’s been looking at you all night.”

             Marigold is taken aback by that. She hadn’t caught him looking, but Jeff wouldn’t lie about something like that. Peering at the guy out of the corner of her eye, she must fight to keep herself from bristling with excitement. He certainly is cute…really cute.

            Marigold sighs dramatically before downing the rest of her beer and standing.

             “That’s the spirit!” Jeff shouts, clinking her empty glass with his own.

             As she makes her way toward the bar, Marigold musses her dark locks and straightens her jacket. A few butterflies flap annoyingly around in her stomach. It’s just a guy. She can talk to him, no big deal.

             “Better hurry up ladies, or Jeff’s gonna steal your turn at the table,” Marigold announces, slipping into the chair on the other side of Baseball Cap Guy.

             “Oh, he better not!” Sylive warns, grabbing Tanya’s jacket and hauling her away. Marigold suppresses a grin and nods to the bartender at the other end of the bar.

             “What’re you drinking?” Marigold’s hazel eyes meet deep green as she turns to face Baseball Cap Guy. He’s even better looking up close; tan skin, strong jaw covered in a light dusting of dark stubble, full lips, long eye lashes, shaggy chocolate colored hair. His soft, deep voice has the slightest hint of southern drawl.

             “Oh, that’s nice of you,” she replies with a smile, “Just a beer. Whatever you’re having.” The guy nods and gives the order to the bartended.

             “Was nice of you to come get your friends,” he explains, turning back to his beer and tracing a thumb along the rim of the glass. Marigold searches his profile for a hint of expression—is he annoyed, amused, interested—but his face is blank.

             “Ah, they’re not so bad. They just thought you were cute,” she teases, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She takes a sip of her beer and notices Baseball Hat Guy glance at her out of the corner of his eye. He only hums in response before sipping his own drink.

             “Not your type?” Marigold asks. She picks at a fray along the cracking leather edge of the bar top.

             “Not really,” he says. She glances up just in time to see a small smile fall from his lips.

             “What is your type?” she asks, biting her lip before taking a nervous sip from her glass. He looks over at her out of his peripheral again, this time meeting her gaze.

             “Brunettes wearing leather jackets,” he says, the small smile returning. Marigold giggles, fighting a blush. Dear god, he has dimples.

             “What’s your type?” he asks, finally turning to face her.

             She grins before replying, “Soft spoken, stoic guys wearing baseball caps.” He chuckles quietly, looking down at his muddy boots then back up to Marigold’s face.

             “I’m Graham.”

             “Marigold,” she says, taking his outstretched hand. His skin is warm against hers and his calloused palm grates pleasantly against her own, “But everyone calls me Goldie, cuz of my hair. It’s funny, you see.” She motions to her dark locks with an eyeroll. Graham smiles in response.

             “Goldie, that’s—

             “Goldie! We’re going down to O’Neil’s! Let’s goooo!” Tanya calls from across the room as the rest of her friends don their jackets and hats.

             “Guess that’s you,” Graham says, smiling wryly and leaning back in his chair. Marigold curses their timing.

             “Graham, it was nice to meet you, but if you don’t have anything else to do tonight, you know where to find me.” She winks and slides out of her chair. Giving him one final smile over her shoulder, she pulls her hood up and heads out into the chilly winter air.

             Marigold and her friends spend the rest of the evening at O’Neil’s, a sticky Irish pub with the best beer prices. She dances, she drinks, she laughs, all while keeping a close eye on the front door. Her heart leaps every time it bangs open, but there is still no sign of Graham.

             “Last call!” shouts the bartender.

             “Shots, bitches! Drink up!” Jeff returns to the table, hands full of little glasses of Patron. Everyone groans, but takes their drink anyway. Everyone but Marigold.

             “Jeff, take mine. That last beer didn’t sit very well.” Her stomach churns as she speaks, her head beginning to pound.

             “Pfft, hoe, drink your damn shot!” Tanya shouts, tossing back the burning liquid.

             “I got’chu, baby cakes” Jeff slurs, retrieving Marigold’s shot.

             “Love you. ‘M gonna go ousside for a minnet.” Marigold slips out of her chair and makes her way to the door, stumbling a bit as she goes. Her surroundings spin and blur as she pushes against the door. She hadn’t had that much to drink. What is happening?

             Outside, a blast of icy air hits her exposed skin and she stumbles, stomach dropping in anticipation of a fall. Warm hands seize her shoulders and push her upright. Blearily, Marigold glances up to find dark green eyes searching her own.

             “Oh, hey, iss…it’s you. Grahaam cracckerrr,” she slurs, “I think sommin’ was wrong wif my beeeer….”

             Graham says nothing, instead bending down and lifting Marigold off her feet, carrying her bridal style down the street and into the alley.  

             “Where…where’re goin’?” Marigold’s eyes drift shut. With difficulty, she pries them open, only to snap them closed again as the world shifts and lurches. Distantly, she hears a vehicle door slam shut, then another, then nothing at all.

***

             It is the silence that finally wakes Marigold. Before, the noisy hum of an engine and the gentle rocking motion had kept her in the surreal state between waking and sleep. Is that music? Maybe this is a dream….

             When the noise and movement suddenly stop and a vehicle door slams, Marigold cracks her eyes open. Gray cloth seats stare back at her. Turning her head, Marigold finds she is laying in the back seat of a car—or truck, she isn’t sure. Her head pounds with the movement and she must close her eyes again.

             Suddenly, the door by her feet opens. Blinding light pours into the cab and Marigold groans and throws her arm over her face. Hands grasp her ankles and pull hard. She shrieks as she is yanked from the warm interior of the vehicle and thrown to the ground.

             Her bare hands plunge into icy snow to catch herself. Hastily, she pushes up to her knees and looks furiously around for the asshole responsible for the freezing snow now buried in her jacket sleeves. Her brows furrow in confusion when she takes in her surroundings.

             Marigold finds herself in a forest, bare oak, ash, and birch trees dotting the snow-covered landscape. Fat snowflakes drift lazily down from a gray sky. Her breath curls white before her when she releases a tremulous exhale.

            Her skin prickles, and not just from the cold. The forest is quiet, oppressively so; no bird song, no wind, no noise from a nearby highway. Her surroundings do nothing to jog her memory. What is she doing here?

            The who, what, and why escape her, until she turns around and finds Graham leaning against a black pick-up, hands in his pockets. Graham, right. Last night, the bar, her friends…. Where are her friends?

            She notices Graham has changed clothes. He’s now wearing camouflage from head to toe. Marigold is instantly on her feet.

            “What’s going on?” she demands, unnerved. He watches her blankly, eyes cast in shadow under the brim of his hat. He doesn’t answer, instead strolling over to the bed of the truck. He unlatches the tail gate and lets it fall open with a noisy clank that makes Marigold jump. Graham seats himself on the open tail gate and fiddles with something inside the truck.

            Tentatively, she follows, stepping carefully around to the back of the pick-up, only to recoil in shock as Graham slides a hunting rifle out of its case and lays it across his lap.

            “What’s going on!” she shouts, eyes wide, heart hammering. Her voice is deafening in the near-silent forest. Graham glances up at her, adjusting his hat and leaning back casually against the bed of the pick-up. His expression is still unreadable.

            “Run along now, Goldie,” he says softly, turning his attention back to the .30-06 in his lap.

             Marigold gives him a blank stare. Run along? Where is she supposed to go? Why is he acting so weird? And why the fuck does he have a gun?

            “Graham, you’re really freaking me out. What are we doing here?” Her voice shakes as she speaks. She wraps her arms around herself to keep her hands from trembling. Graham ignores her. He loads a shell into the rifle, the loud click making Marigold flinch. Her already racing heart begins to beat wildly against her ribs.  

            Graham’s eyes meet hers again and he looks at her expectantly. When she doesn’t move, he looks down to his watch, tilting it against the glare from the snow.

            “I’ll give you a three-minute head start, sweetheart. You better get going.”

            “A head start, for what?” she demands, fear ebbing slightly to make way for anger. Graham sighs and reaches behind him, producing an enormous hunting knife. He cocks his arm back and chucks the blade. Marigold leaps backwards as sharp steel embeds itself in the snow where her foot had been a moment earlier.

            “Run,” Graham says firmly, sliding off the tail gate and slinging the rifle over his shoulder.

            “Jesus, fuck!” Marigold turns on her heel and flees, sprinting as fast as she can through the snow. Her mind races. The clank of the bullet sliding into the chamber replays vividly in her mind and one, morbid thought makes itself know above all the rest:

            Is that bullet…for her?    

            Marigold runs until her lungs burn, ducking behind trees and leaping over fallen branches. She has to reach a road or a house or something eventually, right? Keep going, have to keep going….

            After several minutes of hard sprinting, she slows to a jog, glancing behind her. Her breath comes in furious pants, white mist pouring from her mouth with each exhale. She can’t see the black pickup anymore, or Graham, but he will be hard to spot in all the camo. She looks down despairingly at her own clothes. Her black leather jacket and dark hair will stick out like a sore thumb against all the gray and white around her, but she can’t take off her jacket, not in this weather.

            She glances up at the sky. The sun is hidden behind silver clouds. She has no way of telling what time it is or in what direction she’s heading, but what does it matter? She doesn’t even know where she is anyway.

            Marigold suddenly skids to a halt. Her cell phone! Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Frantically, she searches her pockets, but comes up empty. Of course, he took her phone. It was ridiculous to think otherwise. She swears under her breath.

             She chews on her lip and rubs her hands on her jeans to warm them. Another thought sneaks to the forefront of her mind.

            Maybe she shouldn’t run. Maybe she should wait for Graham to find her and let him do whatever he has planned. Then he’ll see this is all pointless—

            Marigold feels the shot before she hears it. The ear-splitting crack follows the white-hot path of the bullet as it tears through the back of her shoulder, exploding out the other side and splattering the snow with scarlet gore.

            The force of the shot sends her crashing to the ground. A scream of agony tears from her throat as she rolls on her side and grasps her mutilated shoulder. Marigold sobs, pushing herself to her knees and curling in on herself. Nauseating, miserable pain wracks her entire right side and she grits her teeth, forcing herself to stay conscious.

             Hesitantly, she looks down at the bloody mess that is her shoulder. Shallow pants pass her lip as she shakes from head to toe. Marigold waits anxiously, watching her wound, praying the process will being quickly, before Graham can get another shot off.

            Slowly, her flesh begins to move. The edges of the wound gradually to knit together, muscle, bone, and sinew realigning themselves in their proper place. Her skin works itself closed. Soon, nothing remains of the bullet hole but the blood smeared across her skin.

            That psychopath shot her! He really did it! He is actually hunting her! The shock and rage send her reeling. Marigold exhales sharply and grasps her healed shoulder, bringing herself back to her senses. The pain is gone, but the memory persists. She doesn’t want to experience that again.

            Shakily, she gets to her feet and stumbles into a tree, leaning against the bark for support. She raises a bloody, trembling hand, curling it into a fist. She slowly extends her middle finger, flipping Graham the bird and glaring in the direction from which the shot originated.

            Quickly, she ducks behind the tree. Half a second later comes the deafening crack, the bullet shattering the bark of the tree right where her head was a moment earlier. Time to run again, quickly, before he can reload.

            Sprinting is much harder the second time. Marigold’s quivering legs struggle to keep up the pace. Her gait is awkward as she continues to clutch her shoulder. Graham must not know she is no longer injured, not yet.

            She takes more care to weave between trees and make herself a more difficult target. Marigold does her best to keep breathing, keep her legs pumping, but all too soon, she begins to slow. The one downside to her regenerative ability is the energy it takes to heal.

            Fatigued, chest heaving, Marigold must stop her frenzied retreat and lean against a scraggly oak. What now? She isn’t sure how much longer she can run. Maybe she can double back, sneak around to the truck…. But then what?

            Pushing away from the tree, she takes one step, two, three, still not sure of her plan, but the urge to run is too insistent to ignore. She trudges forward, feet numb from the cold, shoulders slumped, shivering from head to toe.

            One hundred yards away, Graham exhales slowly. Marigold staggers into the cross hairs. Finger steady, he pulls the trigger.

            A third crack rips through the silence of the forest. The bullet plows through Marigold’s right leg, breaking bone and shredding flesh as it bursts out the front of her thigh before coming to a halt in the trunk of an ash tree.

            Her leg is knocked out from under her and Marigold crashes to the ground a second time in a flurry of snow and blood spatter. Her anguished scream disturbs the hush around her.

            “FUCK!” she wails, jaw clenched, hands shaking uncontrollably. She grips her thigh, just above the wound as blood stains the snow around her in a near perfect circle. Her surroundings darken.

            Marigold comes to a few seconds later to find her wound healing, flesh and bone repairing themselves until all that’s left is scarlet painted skin. Panting, she lets herself fall onto her back. The putrid ache of the wound is still fresh in her mind. She can still feel the sensation of the bullet rending her thigh.

            She can’t run, not anymore. She doesn’t possess the strength There’s probably no chance of finding her way out of this god forsaken forest anyway. She’ll have to wait for Graham. What will he do when he finds her uninjured?

            She doesn’t have long to wait. All too soon, Marigold hears the unhurried crunch of boots on snow. He probably thinks she’s dead.

            With gritted teeth, she slowly pushes herself to a sitting position. Graham spits into the snow when he meets her furious gaze. Leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world, he strolls toward her, stopping a few feet away to lean against an old birch.

            “You’re one tough cookie, Goldie,” he comments nonchalantly, unsheathing his hunting knife. His head jerks up in surprise when Marigold laughs sardonically.

            “You redneck…piece of shit….” Using all her remaining strength, she stands. Graham’s expression remains blank, but his eyes narrow. Taking a handful of snow, she scrubs away the blood on her thigh, revealing smooth, unmarred flesh. She does the same to her shoulder.

            “Surprise, asshole,” she grits out, sneering. Marigold watches him closely. His face remains impassive but she can see his eyes flicking in between her shoulder and leg. She can almost hear what he must be thinking, can see the gears fighting to turn.

            Did I miss? No, there’s blood everywhere, I definitely hit her, but where are the wounds? I couldn’t have just grazed her, not with that much blood. How is she standing?

            A beat passes between them. Neither looks away from the other. Graham taps his blade against the back of his hand. He’s thinking, deciding, but what? She almost wishes he would just do something. Her legs won’t hold her weight for much longer.

            Suddenly, Graham lurches forward. Caught off guard, Marigold staggers back and falls on her rear. In one smooth motion, he pins her on the frozen ground and buries cold steel into her neck up to the hilt.

            Shocked, eyes wide as saucers, Marigold chokes. Blood fountains up from her mouth when Graham rips the blade from her flesh. Arterial spray paints the front of them both and the surrounding snow.

            Graham sits back on his heels and watches Marigold splutter and gurgle, expression unreadable. She grips her throat, fingers searching for the wound. Panic, panic. She can’t breathe, hurry, hurry. When she feels the flesh knit together, she turns her head to the side and hacks, focusing on clearing her airway. The horrible, coppery taste in her mouth is overwhelming and she must fight the urge to vomit.

            Once she takes a few huge, gulps of freezing air, Marigold meets Graham’s incredulous gaze. His blood splattered, expressionless façade has finally cracked. Exhausted, eyes half lidded, minutes away from passing out again, the side of Marigold’s mouth quirks up in a smirk.

            “What is this?” he asks quietly, wiping the blood from her neck to make sure he is seeing what he thinks he sees. His green eyes grow wider when he finds no wound. In response, Marigold spits blood in his face. The wet smack as it lands on his cheek makes him flinch.

            “I’m unkillable, you fucking hick.”

            “I don’t…. I don’t understand.” His voice is still soft but there is an edge to it; a hint of fear. It is more satisfying than Marigold thinks possible.  

            “You can’t kill me. Nobody can kill me. This whole thing you’ve got going here is pointless—

            Graham doesn’t let her finish. He cuts her off with hands around her throat, squeezing until her mouth opens and closes in a fruitless attempt to inhale. Marigold kicks and bucks under him, adrenaline giving her strength she didn’t think she had. She reaches for his face, hoping to claw him or gouge out his eyes, but Graham merely tips his head back, avoiding her reaching fingers.

            Darkness creeps in from the edges of her vision. Blood vessels break in her eyes. Her chest burns, desperate for air. Her limbs grow heavy. Slowly, her hands fall to the ground and her legs cease their flailing. Marigold’s body stills.

*

            Graham keeps pressure on her throat for another minute, for good measure. His hands ache when he finally releases her. He stands, regarding the still body at his feet warily. He taps her leg with his boot. No response. She looks dead enough.

            He turns away, pulling handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the blood from his face. What in God’s name was that? He still doesn’t believe what he saw.

            He shakes his head. Think about it later. Go get the truck, bring it as close as he can so he doesn’t have to haul her far. The ground is too frozen to bury her here, he’ll have to find somewhere else. He begins to walk away.

            A deep gasp behind him stops him dead in his tracks.

            Rasping coughs, more gasping, and then, “Is that the best you can do?”

#slasher oc #my oc #graham cracker #marigold #my writing #horror writing #slasher fandom #violence #blood #gore

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 53

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I descended upon an alley. It was near here that Aurum said Tyrian was seen patrolling. It was down in Mantle and the grime for the mines was already getting in my hair and making it greasy.

I watched a small hotel from the Alley where I was setting up for my stakeout. I pulled my pipe and began to smoke as I watched. The smell was lost in the fumes from the mines. I pushed my hair back up out of my eyes with an open palm.

I was in it for the long haul and I watched people come and go. Hunters, maybe, came in and out of the hotel I was watching.

Neo offered to come with me but I had her infiltrating that Sinovial Bunker dressed as Winter Schnee to see what she could find. It should be fine. If Winter Schnee was anything like her sister she wasn't a talker so I doubted she'd run into trouble.

She just needed to confirm the presence of that maiden then get out. An old woman, Aurum had called her. That was pretty successful for a maiden career. I was willing to bet that, much like hunters, most died young.

So that's what she was doing. I was leaning in an alley, relic of knowledge by my side and my half cape pressed against a wall. I waited with my broadsword over my shoulder.

Eventually I was rewarded. Tyrian came crawling out of the hole. He was looking around warily. Like he could feel a predator's eyes on him. No sense in pretending to try and keep an element of surprise. I pocketed my pipe, I let the high ride over me. He was too wary for a sneak attack.

I stepped up and out into the street.

He saw me and he looked surprised.

"You…"

He stepped opposite me in the cobblestone street. Preparing for the eventual violence that would break out in a moment.

"Me." I agreed. I tried for ominous but I was willing to bet it came off as a touch pretentious.

I could probably have twisted Aurum's arm into making this a favor for him. Serial killers and mad men were bad for business but I wasn't interested. Plus this was personal.

"You're the son of our goddess. My lady told me about you." He crouched down, his tail whipped about over his head slowly. "You didn't bring her the relic," he sneered. "You denied her."

"No I didn't and I'll do it again, too."

"You willfully deny our queen?"

"I certainly hope so. Or else I've been doing it for nothing."

He snarled and brought out his blades. I slowly drew my broadsword and we stared one another down in the middle of the street. I held the comforting weight easily in one hand and put the other in a pocket.

"You still have the relic. It's not too late for you to give in," he murmured.

“Give in.”

A voice in my own head beckoned.

“Give in.”

"No. I don't think that I will," I retorted, both to him and that insistent voice. "I think I'm going to kill you."

He growled and lunged forward, crossing the gap and opening fire on me as he did.

I let a laugh burst from my lips. The sound was a touch insane and a lot bitter.

I squeezed a dust crystal to glass in my pocket and whipped my hand forward from my pocket.

The bolt of lightning struck him but he crossed his arms to defend himself. I slammed into him a moment later, I flew forward on a pocket of air. The combination left his weapons smoking and my blow rang against his weapons and sent him sliding back. It tore up the street a little at his feet.

A mad giggle of his own left his mouth. He grinned at me. "Good. I was worried this would be too easy."

I activated Limit Breaker, the power strummed throughout my body. It was present in the full otherworldly flames that wreathed me. He stepped back, wary of the power of Limit Breaker. As well he should be. I almost beat him before. This should be a cinch.

I pulled a red dust crystal from my pocket. I cracked it and the power ran up my arm. I threw the fire bolt at him and he stepped to the side. It splashed against a brick building further down the street. He let out another insane laugh.

"Your power. I remember." He tapped his forehead. "But you don't know anything about mine."

"My power grows," I said. "Your semblance doesn't concern me." I was bluffing a little. I was a touch worried about his trump card. I still had my own though. I had power in spades with the glow active.

And it was starting to affect my base state. I was able to fly around without Limit Breaker active now. It was growing. I was growing.

I held on to the limits of my soul. The elevated state made the world slow down around me. He fired his machine gun at me and I twirled my blade before me and blocked the bullets easily. It was better than letting him chip away at my aura.

He came at me low across the ground and I flew right at him. His blades came up and met my sword where I tried to hammer him. He stepped inside and tried to get in my guard. It was transparent to me and I blocked and immediately spent my semblance. I slashed him across the chest and followed it up with a flurry of blows and ended it with one last swung across his stomach.

"Ruh!" I grunted as I slung him to the ground.

The scintillating attack knocked him back and I had time to take in the scars on his chest as I knocked him to the ground. I had my own matching set of marks on mine that he left on me when we'd last crossed blades.

I jumped forward at him and the entire time I was airborn I was just threatening him with a falling aerial. I landed and jumped again and once more I threatened him. As soon as he made anything other than a defensive option. I slung him hard into a wall.

I walked slowly forward at him, sword raised. I smirked down at him. I could win this.

I felt my semblance leave me. The power, the rush, was gone. I'd have to fight him fairly until I got my next charge, which was fucking bullshit. I hated fighting my opponents fairly. That was when they could win. However, I could still get several more Limit Breaks this fight if things went my way.

Our blades met again.  And he swept his leg over at my head. I blocked it and he stabbed low with his left hand, then high with his right. Then he cartwheeled at me and brought his stinger at my face which I sidestepped. He jumped and kicked me in the face with both feet.

"Haah!" He called.

I grunted from it. I swept my blade back at him in a wide tilting slash that went shoulder to waist.

He was forced to block and he slid over my blade and jabbed at me with his stinger once, then twice, then three times. His fist glowed purple for a moment and he jabbed it at me but I sunk my sword into his aura for it. And I spun, bringing my blade with me and clotheslined him. He ate cobblestone. I swept my hand by my side and drew out a crystal more of what was becoming one of my favorite types. The energy ones. It was lightning and not fire. The easiest to use raw to greatest effect.

I cast the bolt on him and lightning jumped from me and struck him high. The bolt knocked him back down.

I slid tractionless across the ground and three-sixtied in a sliding forward tilt. My baseball style diagonal swing that I was able to put so much force behind. I whipped him to the ground again. Sliding forward tilt was gross.

"You don't even want to know why I'm here?" He asked. A lilt of laughter still to his voice. He flipped back onto his feet, nice and low.

"It probably has something to do with the relic up here. And the maiden."

"Winter. And it's the staff of creation. They will soon both belong to my queen."

"Good to know. But why you're here won't matter once I've killed you." Steam rose into the air from his hot weapons where the bolt struck him and he'd tried to shield it again.

"You think you'll kill me?" He giggled.

"Depends."

"On what?" The entire time we were talking I was charging my semblance.

"This." I answered. Limit Break activated again. The blue light was back and with it came the familiar chord of power. It was like lightning running down my spine. As much or even more so than using lightning dust was. The flames poured over me and I attacked him with increased vigor.

I swept my sword out and front-flipped bringing the blade down. He blocked but the force bent the cobblestone street downwards.

He grinned right in my face and punched me. He jabbed me with his claw in the stomach and he stabbed at me with his metallic tail. It hit me in the shoulder and I spun with the motion to the side. He kept on me. He kicked at my face and tried to send my aura with his claws again. I blocked and twirled Crocea Mors.

I slashed at his face and he was forced to duck. Then I cut at him lower at the leg and he jumped high over it and came to kick me in the face again. I grabbed his leg and bodily slammed him into the street. Limit still roared in my veins and I picked him like a vegetable, dropped him, and swung Crocea Mors like a baseball bat and caught him across the back.

He bounced down the street and I hovered after him. I backflipped at him, sweeping my sword at him vertically from low to high. He sidestepped. His fist glowed with purple aura once more and where it touched me my aura disintegrated.

I swore and swept my blade upwards and popped him into the air. Then I bench pressed him with a jumping lift of Crocea Mors. Then I brought the sword forward in a giant swing which he barely avoided.

He kicked me in the stomach and I grunted and stepped back. He tried to push his advantage with a snarl. His ponytail whipped about as he pressed forward.

He jabbed at me with his right claw. Then his left connected with my nose, which stung. I reeled backwards but he was on me. I brought my weapon between us and he pressed both claws against it and shoved me backwards. I was off balance and couldn't use my enormous strength. I stumbled back and his tail caught my leg and I started to fall.

I caught myself on air and swept my sword in a circle around me as I readied myself. It caught him in the legs but most importantly it forced him back a little.

He snarled at me. "Sarhh," a sort of half growling noise in frustration.

So far I was beating him. He had shown off his semblance too. Some kind of aura disruptor. And I was making him eat dirt anyways and he couldn't even appropriately capitalize on his advantage state because I was a hovering badass. Limit still coursed through me. I had every advantage.

I hit him with an aerial attack that bounced him off the pavement and spent Limit in a bladebeam that caught his roll.

He roared again. A noise that promised vengeance and violence and I stared him down unafraid as I charged up the next Limit Break.

He rushed me. He was a blitz of claws and tail and kicks. I blocked the first slash and he clipped me with the next when I couldn't react in time without Limit.

I front-flipped away from his next flurry of right legged kicks. I flew back at him and cut twice at chest level horizontally. He was forced back by the massive range my sword offered me. He tried to duck under but he just ate a knee to the face for his troubles.

Soon I would have Limit again. Whether from damage to him or damage to me. I mimed like I was going to aerial him again but he saw through the feint and jumped on me.

He knocked me to the ground for real and straddled me. He went for my neck. His glowing purple hands descended on me and ravaged my aura. In a moment he would cut my vulnerable throat with those sharp blades. My hands dropped my sword and caught his wrists.

That was when his tail came up and around. It stabbed at my face but I craned my neck to the side and it sunk into the cobblestone street.

It reared back and stabbed down again and once more I twisted my head out of the way.

I swept a leg up and wrapped it around his throat. He choked on my calf for an impossible moment and I rolled to my feet, my foot on his neck.

I dived to the side and picked up my sword. I abandoned my advantage to reclaim my weapon. I rolled back to my feet and was met with two boots to the face.

It was like a bell rang as Limit once more flowed through me. He growled again, part howl and backed off firing bullets at me. I blocked them easily enough and glid at him with one arm forward and my sword arm back.

I back-flipped at him after I reversed. And I slung my weapon against his hard enough to knock him back. I landed and swept my own kicks at him. I then brought my weapon around to take his head off and he caught it on both of his. I had Limit and leverage and I forced him back.

I drove my blade forward and rose up into the air before I slammed back down on him. My landing threw up cobble from the street. Our fight was turning the passage into a mess.

But it was nearing its conclusion. His shirt was starting to get torn up by the battle. The straps coming loose. My heart beat faster. I could feel the battle drawing to an end. And I wasn't losing. That dive onto me had been a desperate effort. I was going to kill him.

I slashed two times with a shout. The first he fought but the second landed below his ribs and knocked the wind out of him.

I stepped and pivoted right inside his effective range and swung upwards.

I threw him up into the air with a golf style swing he couldn't block. Then I followed him into the air and I Octa-slashed him. I hovered in the air and went through all eight swings. I slashed vertically twice at the end to finish things off and he was hurled eight feet straight down.

He landed and I brought my blade straight down on his chest. It sunk into his purple crackling aura and then through deep into muscle and cracking bone.

It was more satisfying than sex, watching him cough up blood as he choked out his last.

I just stood over him and began charging my next Limit. I clapped my hands once, slapping one off the other like I finished a hard day's work and pulled my weapon out of his chest.

He leaned up with it and spat up a lot of blood.

I laughed and he died. He laughed a little too which ruined my moment a little.

I got close to activating my next charge. First responders would be here soon and I had better be gone before they arrived. I sheathed my weapon over my shoulder and it folded slightly into the form I used to carry it around in.

I tapped the side of Tyrian's face with my boot and stepped back. I pulled his weapons free and put them in my deep pockets. Our battle had really done a number on the street around us. His bullets had shattered windows and my fire spell had left a building splattered with flames.

Oh well. One down. Three to go. Cinder, Merlot, Hazel.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

#war of the roses #white rose #hiterose #white knight #whiteknight #lancaster #jaune arc #tyrian callows #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee #motion sickness #cloud strife #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!jaune arc #neo #neapolitan

[alchemicalterror]

Self-implemented Parole

[ Below is a transcript of an RP between @askanarky​ and ol’ Jonny boy, involving Anarky’s breakout and aftermath. WIth special guest @riddlesandqueries​ and @echoandquery​

Trigger warnings: Adolescent Homelessness, swearing. ]

Fuck. Shit. God dammit. Fuck, Lonnie swears to himself, couldn’t stay hidden for two days, could he?

Here he is, leaning against the wall of the dentist’s-office-turned-failed-comedy-club-turned-pirate-radio-station-slash-hideout he’d been spending the day at. Beside him’s a wooden baseball bat, blood-red paint dripping down the business end, three posters, and an overfilled olive drab backpack absolutely covered in patches and safety pins. In his hands, a box of old clothes and records.

Bitterly, Lonnie wonders how much weight he’d lost. Six and a half months was a lot longer- or maybe shorter?- than he’d fully realized.

God, why’s he even humoring the old man? Ten bucks and he could already be gone. He’d find another shitty landlord to blackmail for an equally shitty studio apartment, and life’d go on like he never left.

...But then again, that wasn’t him. And plus, he owes Jon a lot and did kinda call him ‘dad,' and plus, he couldn’t feasibly cut him out entirely unless he left Gotham for good, and why would he do that, he’s got work to continue-

”Fuck.” Lonnie mutters under his breath, shifting his weight to his other leg.

"Fuck." Jon mutters, pulling his coat in tighter. He doesn't know jack shit about hijacked radio towers, and while his car is an unremarkable, beat-up old junker that he's had for years - it runs fine, there's no noises or weird smells, but the body has seen better days - why run into a headache with traffic, gas mileage, potentially being seen at an intersection with a recently escaped convict...?

'Course, nothing could hide how tall he is. And god damn it, it's April, it's supposed to be warm....

Jonathan mutters against the cold in vague irritation, gravitating towards the next set of charity drop-off boxes in vain hopes of actually tracking down the runt. Jesus, he should've asked for directions. At least he's in good shape.

"Me an' my motherfuckin' ide--" Pause. Squint, at someone who fits the stature in a beat up black hoodie, with a box.

"....Kid?"

The good thing about oversized hoodies is that, if you’re drowning in them enough, it can almost conceal how high you jump when something calls an epithet that can apply to you. Immediately, Lonnie crouches to quickly, but gently place his box down and grab his baseball bat in his place, then raises himself up into half of a batter’s stance at the source of the-

Wait. Tall man, absolutely orange hair, in a thrift-store jacket and blue jeans. Of fucking course.

”Jesus Christ,” he half-mouths. He lets his stance relax and his arms hang limply down in an exaggerated 'I-don’t-wanna-be-here' stance. “‘Ay.” Lonnie’s stage voice is remarkable, if a bit higher than his normal growl.

Jonathan grins, a bit, despite himself. Baseball bat? Good lad.

He lifts a hand in a wave, chuckling. "Nice to see you ain't without means, boy." Jon murmurs, nodding at the weapon. "Half kickin' myself I didn't get directions when abouts I could, I been walking around back alleys all afternoon."

"Legs could use a break, and I saw a beaten-down dive up the block some, folks don't glance at your face even when you're ordering in places like that. You wanna coffee or somethin' before we ship out?"

“....” Lonnie turns away for half a second, letting a puff of air escape his clenched teeth. “Hey, you said you didn’t need them.”

Hypocritical, coming from him. He’s at least trying to be a little friendly, through the obvious voice crack and the constantly-correcting tone. “...Fine, I guess? I mean, I’ve got what...” He backs away and unzips the front pocket of the backpack on the ground. A cheap leather wallet spills out (along with six separate embroidered circle-As in various shades of crimson.) He unfolds it and squints between the pockets, “....twelve...? Dollars on me? That’s enough for, like, a sandwich.”

"Come off it kid, I got paid yesterday, you ain't gotta spend what little you got on a sandwich. Save it, s'good to have bus money." And with that Jon turns, and waves Lonnie follow him. Tall as he is, he's long ago adopted a sort of ambling gait to make it easier for other people to keep up with his long stride.

The diner is, as estimated, utterly apathetic to the arrival of both Jonathan and Lonnie, save for the motions of seating them both. No odd looks are given to Lonnie's box of things, nor -- if he brought it along -- his bat. He was half-heartedly offered the opportunity to drop it in the umbrella rack, if he wanted to.

Jon takes a booth with a high back, and turns his attention toward the menu.

Lonnie, in fact, does put his baseball bat in the umbrella rack (only in Gotham,) and swings himself up onto the booth, squishing himself into the corner and placing his box under the table. His backpack’s placed right beside him.

He’s already small- especially compared to Jonathan- but he seems determined to make himself even smaller. Lonnie hunches over the table and scrutinizes the menu with one exposed eye, rapping his free hand on the table. Jonathan receives the occasional upwards glance from him.

Coffee. And a sandwich. Jon picks both, mentally placing his order, and sets the menu down.

"...After we order, I got some things to ask, arright?" He murmurs, keeping his voice low; the staff might not care, but patrons could. Best keep mumbly.

"Dinner's on me whatever you got to say, upfront. Ain't contingent on you givin' me answers you think I'm gonna wanna hear."

(The waitress does drift by, uninterested and unimpressed, to take their orders.)

Watching the waitress approach means Lonnie didn’t have the space to answer Jon in full; Instead, he flashes a thumbs up his way.

BLT, cherry Coke. Lonnie deserved something sweet, he thought. His menu comes down after Jon’s, and he doesn’t fully turn to place his order. He does, however, have the common sense for manners; “I’d like an egg BLT and a cherry Coke, please.”

"And I'd like a tuna sub and a black coffee, please, miss. Thank you kindly."

Their orders are noted down, and she drifts on to her next engagement - and Jon leans on the table, looking Lonnie over. Where to start. "....You got a place to stay?"

“I’ll get one.” Lonnie murmurs, implying that the answer’s actually no. “Old landlord probably won’t let me back in, not like I was actually paying for my old apartment anyway...” He murmurs as he passes the saltshaker between his hands. "...Right." Jonathan says, nodding slowly. "...If you need a place to crash a li'l while while you work him over, y'know - I got a guest room. Ain't got much more than a bed and a couple boxes and a desk, but it's dry an' the door locks." "...And like, if puttin' out on your own for a place don't work, I don't mind if you stay, right?" .... Hm. The saltshaker rests in his left hand.

“...You’re serious? C’mon, your job’s probably already batter-fried as is, if anyone finds out-”

Lonnie doesn’t trail off, per se, more than he just lets his throat close a little. “...Really? You really don’t-“

He’d be an absolute idiot to decline, but there had to be some kind of catch - ? - but Jon’s not that much of a jerkass.... "Kid, much as I'm sure you could find someone whose arm you could twist for a place, it don't sit right with me to just leave you in an alley to do that. I got the room, and - well, Arkham can just deal." Jonathan’s tone is flat.

"What they don't know ain't gonna hurt my career." Lonnie puts a fist to his rapidly-splitting mouth and exhales sharply. “‘Guess that is true,” he answers, then shakes two fingers at Jon. 

“...Shit, thanks, I guess? I didn’t... really expect you to show real concern, holy shit...” "What, you think it was just for appearances?"  Jon chuckles, genial. "Naw, son, I try to actually care 'bout the folks I work with, didn't get into this business on accounta I don't care about people."

"Look, after Dinner I'll help you carry shit, since I left the car at home." “Okay.” Lonnie doesn’t particularly feel like pushing it any more, so he doesn’t. 

“...How’d I not notice this place before?” He asks, mostly to himself. Or maybe he had, and he’d forgotten about it. Was it even worth forgetting?  Ech, everything was so overwhelming. As their food and coffee comes around, Jonathan turns his attention to the rogue chat, securing something, before starting to eat. Tuna melts are truly the mac and cheese of the sandwich world, and hard to get wrong.

[ Dr_J_C ] - Hey, Eddie, you on. [ E?Nygma ] - Yes? [ Dr_J_C ]  - You got a cab company you trust to keep their yaps shut [ E?Nygma ] - My henchwomen. [ Dr_J_C ]  - ...Think they'd be willing to come pick up me and a runaway? Wound up cross town and the kid's got luggage [ E?Nygma ] - Only one way to find out, really.

[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Ladies? ] [ DM  E&Q to E?Nygma: [Q] You need something, Ed? ] [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Yes, if you have the time tonight. Dr Crane is asking me about securing private transit that doesn't talk too much, if you catch my drift. Since you're both the pair I trust most on the matter, I thought I'd ask if you'd be willing to go fetch him and cart him wherever he needs to go. He's not in a stabbing mood, so it shouldn't be risky. ] [ DM  E&Q to E?Nygma: [Q] Not in a stabbing mood? Color me surprised.. but sure thing, Boss! [E] Dr. Crane requires transit? We aren’t busy, so we’ll be glad to pick him up, when needed. Anything that’s said will stay in the car, don’t you worry. ] [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Peachy. Make him buy you dinner, huh? I'll forward the address: you know what to do if he starts giving you trouble, and where to send the bill. Thanks so much. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - Good news, Jonny, they'll do it. Have an address? [ Dr_J_C ]  - Yeah, hangon.... Down town, Eighth and Tuppence. The shitty diner.

[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: : Eighth and Tuppence, the "shitty diner", as he put it. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - I told them to make you buy them dinner. 

[ Dr_J_C ]  -  Yeah, sure, doesn't have to be from here. We just got our food, so - give it an hour? [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: He's asked for you to come in an hour, so you have time to get ready. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - Done and done, don't leave them waiting.

Before eating, Lonnie removes the top slice of bread from each sandwich half and salts the (perfectly over-medium) egg on top, then slides the salt to the other side of the table. He almost chokes on his first bite. God, he missed real food. "...Arkham food, huh." Jonathan chuckles, humorlessly. "Shit, every time I've gotten outta there, pizza boxes have looked appetizing."

"Eddie's henches are gonna be givin' us a ride. They ain't snitches, and I fancy our chances in one'a their cars than on foot."

“...Tall punk one n’ a short one?” Lonnie clarifies through a mouthful of BLT. Gulp. “Nice.”

“...Spent his ketchup money on Walgreens eyeliner and a burger. Should probably get online and tell ‘im once I get home, huh.” He pauses, putting down his sandwich for a second. “I told you the ketchup thing, right?”

Jonathan grins, lifting his coffee in a weird sort of salute. "Sure did. Bet you made with Eddie, right? Eyeliner and a bite's a good cause, then. He chomps down half his sandwich before turning his attention properly to coffee.

"...Good-ish news, the Asylum is pretty sure I didn't help you break out." "So they prob'ly ain't gonna assume I came got you, neither."

“Thank god,” Lonnie comments. “Like, not just ‘cuz your job’s still safe, that’s great, but god, I didn’t spend three weeks figuring out like, 80 million people’s schedules for a friend in a high place to get the stick, it’s my damn credit.” He pauses for a sip of soda. “...Is that the right metaphor? Doesn’t matter. ‘S.... nice y’aint in that deep shit.”

Another pause. “Jesus Christ, I just said ‘y’ain’t’ in complete earnest, what the fuck are you doing to me?” Lonnie laughs, leaning his head back and pulling down one eyelid. Jonathan barks a cheerful laugh, and even that is ignored by the utter apathy that is a back-street diner in Gotham. He shakes his head until it trickles down to a snicker and, grinning, drains the rest of his coffee before his attention returns to the perfectly adequate tuna melt.

"Naww, they had me doin' damage control, after talkin' to me a bit and nosing some at my notes. Shit, I didn't know a damn thing about your plans, and it showed, son, so oughta be fine."

"New's being shitty about it anyways, though, m'sorry about that." “I~’m aware,” Lonnie chimes rather sardonically, waiting to swallow this time. “Eh, GCN’s a bunch of corporatist bullcrap anyway. They don’t think I’m a real dude, I know they aren’t a real news station, cancels out.” It really doesn’t cancel out, but the shrug indicates either he’s actually fine or he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it.

Jonathan slowly nods, and makes a mental tick to get a tee-shirt made inviting people to physically fight him if they want to call Lonnie a girl. That's a dadly thing to do, right?

"...So,” Jon starts, slowly, “Y'all called me dad."

Groan. “Uh, I’m sorry?” Lonnie shrugs to accompany the nonapology— not like it was worth applogizing for. “Slip of the tongue, like callin’ a teacher ‘mom,’ y’know?”

He sucks the rest of his Coke down and sets the tall plastic glass back on the table. Jon laughs, sitting back himself and uncrossing his arms. "Dunno where all I said I was upset about it, son." His grin is lazy and easy, and he just shrugs.

"Y'all see me as a father figure?" ... Does he? ... “I mean— you’re what, two and a half times my age n I’ve seen more of you  in the, what, three-ish months since you took my case than anyone else, not to mention you’re like...” Lonnie cycles through various expressions as he speaks, apparently directing his explanation at his fingernails. (Note the lack of a solid answer.) 

He doesn’t mention what Jon’s like. Soon, he throws his forehead into one hand, rubbing his temples.

“I mean—- no, but also not no?” "...So, solid maybe." Jon suggests, wiping crumbs off his hands with a chuckle. "Right, well that ain't somethin' you gotta come up with an answer to today, son. Right now, priority's makin' sure you don't get picked up by the cops two days after a breakout."

"And,” he adds, “Not leavin' you to find a half-comfortable Alley to try an' make a sleeping spot from."

“Mmh,” Lonnie affirms through his last bite of BLT (emphasis on the L.) “In my defense, I spent like... the first third’a my sophomore year doin’ that, I’ve got practice.” He jokes, sending finger-guns Jon’s way. “But yeah, let’s leave that for later, ‘kay?”

"Sounds good." Jonathan pulls out his wallet, leafing through it and leaving the bill in cash, with a generous tip. No, the bill hasn't actually arrived yet, but he's pretty good at math. Something about being a Chemist, maybe. 

"Ed's girls oughta be here in a nother couple minutes, so - you wanna hit the washroom or anything 'fore we head outside?"

#Jonathan Crane #Regarding Lonnie Machin #Askanarky #RP Log #Long Post #Plot #with Digital Cameos by: #Edward Nygma #Nina 'Echo' Damfino #Diedre 'Query' Vance

[deckof-dragons]

Prompt: How the Empress got her scars

Thank you for the request!

Ambush

Cookie hissed and spat; her fur fluffed up in warning. But with her back literally pressed up against an alley wall and against three thieves she wasn’t exactly intimidating. Nor did she stand much of a chance of getting out of this unharmed.

��All right little kitten,” the thug in the middle said, lightly slapping his baseball bat in the palm of his paw. “You can’t run no more so how ‘bout you just give us all your money and whatever’s in that bag or we’ll have to beat it out of you.”

Hissing again, Cookie clutched the bag closer. First off, she wasn’t a little kitten, she was less than two years away from being a full-grown adult. And second, she saved up for ages to be able to afford a nice camera for her online cooking show – maybe she’d get more than three of four viewers when the video wasn’t potato quality – so no way was she going to give it up to these asshats. “Go jump in front of a train, asshole!”

That got them angry. The leader hissed and opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a fierce yowl off to the side. That was immediately followed by somebody jumping in, tackling him. Suddenly the three of them were fighting the newcomer, giving Cookie the perfect opportunity to escape.

She didn’t take it though because the flurry of claws and fangs, attacking the goons was Princess. No way Cookie could abandon her to fight three assholes at once. Instead she gingerly placed the camera bag down and picked up the baseball bat that had fallen on the ground. She didn’t normally partake in violence, in fact she preferred to avoid it, but she didn’t have much of choice here.

 -

With Princess being fierce as she was, the thugs didn’t stand much of a chance and soon fled the scene. Princess probably didn’t even need Cookie’s help.

“Woohoo, that oughta teach them,” Cookie said, turning to face Princess. “I bet they’re… oh goodness, your eye!”

A wicked claw mark slashed down over Princess’ left eye. She was pretty scratched up in general too. Up against three, that made sense but… “It’s fine,” she said with a dismissive handwave. “It’s not that bad.”

“It looks pretty bad to me.” Cookie dropped the baseball bat and quickly scooped up her camera bag. “Let’s get out of here and go see a doctor.” Hopefully her eye wasn’t permanently damaged, it was hard to tell if any damage had actually been done to it or just around it. Either way though… “You need to get patched up.”

“Cookie no, it’s fine, really. I can take care of it myself. Are you okay though? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“Thanks to you no. So, thank you.” She hooked her arm through Princess’ and started them walking down the alley again. They were going to see a doctor rather Princess liked it or not and Cookie wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

For this request event.

#My writing #ahit #A Hat In Time #The Empress #Cooking Cat #teenagers

[cheonsans]

★ ＡＬＬ ＯＲ ＮＯＴＨＩＮＧ

ｔｈｅ ｆｉｒｓｔ ｍｉｎｉ ａｌｂｕｍ

ALL OR NOTHING is the debut mini album released by Superbia Entertainment’s six-member boy group, RPM. It dropped on October 15, 2015, after a teaser announced the group’s debut. The company’s social media accounts were flooded with images of a speedometer rapidly oscillating between 10 and 15, signifying the release date of the album. Their title track, Zero, went on to earn the boys several wins during the time of its promotions, and remains one of their most iconic songs today.

( playlist link )

(long post ahead)

↻ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬

In order to introduce the members, individual one minute long videos were released, one every other day, in the time leading up to their debut. It was evident from the beginning that their concept was darker and more bold, following the trend of the groups of the year.

Jaehwa’s teaser video introduced him as a strong, assertive leader. His was set in the middle of a seemingly busy highway at night, edited so the cars rushing past him on either side looked like metallic, brilliant blurs. His own car, a sleek black Audi, idled perpendicular to the flow of traffic, forcing others to part around him. Despite the chaotic, dangerous setting, he remained confident and poised, staring challengingly at the camera while leaning casually against the side of his car. He wore a black leather jacket with no shirt beneath, twining tattoos barely visible on his sides further coming into view as he spread the jacket wider via his hands in his pockets, biting his lip with a seductive smile and angling his head back and to the side in an invitation for the viewer to come closer. The rest of his outfit was as dangerous, with ripped jeans and shiny patent leather combat boots. About his thighs were silver chain and black leather harnesses, and his silver hair was slicked back with a few stray strands falling over his forehead in a faux-messy look that was just the right amount of disheveled. His fake split lip and a long scratch along his right cheekbone completed the look and complemented his subtly red-toned eyeshadow well. In the background of the music video, a cinematic sounding bass beat amped up the viewer, until the image flashed to black and then revealed the group’s speedometer logo. Jaehwa’s voice was heard whispering his own name, and then, very slowly...6, in English, starting the countdown.

Yonghoon was next, and his setting was a bit different. His film had him inside a clearly highly technologically advanced sports car, hands drumming on the wheel to the powerful, energetic beat that pulsed in the background of the video. He seemed to be driving away from the police judging by the flashing red and blue lights, but rather than be tense and overwhelmed, he seemed like he was having the time of his life. The video began with him turning up the volume on the car’s stereo, which in turn, amped up the volume of the music in the actual video. He was styled in a denim jacket painted with black, red, and white desultory slashes of paint, a black choker adorned his throat, and a black baseball cap obscured the color of his hair...though it was very clearly dark. The shifting neon lights from the cityscape he sped through cast a beautiful, variegated look within the interior of the car, illuminating the joyful, exhilarated expression that claimed his features. The video ended with the car pealing into an empty parking garage expertly, overhead lights flickering, and him stepping out of the vehicle with a laugh that’s audible as the music suddenly cut out. He took off his cap and raked a hand through his hair with a slight stumble, revealing his hair color to be black and red, and winked at the camera with a blue-lensed eye while hauling a bag of cash out of the passenger side. He walked offscreen casually with bills fluttering to the ground behind him, footsteps echoing along with distant sirens until all sound once again cut out and the screen flashed the logo. He, like Jaehwa, stated his name, and 5, continuing the countdown.

Kyungjae’s teaser also featured a vehicle, though a motorcycle this time around. His teaser began with an overhead shot of the Seoul streets, zooming in rapidly to a figure dressed in an all-black, tactical looking outfit riding a matte black motorcycle, weaving between cars and traffic effortlessly. It was unclear if he were being chased or simply enjoying the adrenaline. A black backpack was on his back, and the figure’s features were indiscernible behind his helmet. Accentuated by urgent music, Kyungjae continued to cut in front of cars and make impossible-looking turns, the neons of the city reflected on the visor of his helmet and creating a wonderfully aesthetically-pleasing visual. He came to a stop in the middle of an empty road, the traffic lights continuing to change overhead despite the vacancy of the street. Slowly, he removed his helmet, revealing Kyungjae with dark blue-toned black hair and heterochromic contacts: one blue, one brown. He checked his reflection in his helmet’s visor before tossing the helmet aside carelessly with a clatter. He shrugged the backpack off and opened it carefully, reaching in to withdraw a handful of expensive looking jewelry, which was pocketed unceremoniously. The shot swiveled and became upside down to follow Kyungjae’s retreat as he walked away, leaving the motorcycle where it was, and catching as he let the backpack fall to the asphalt as well. The bag tipped on its side, revealing a gun, an intricate-looking black-and-silver mask, and hundreds of poker chips, each with RPM’s logo emblazoned on the front. The image cut to black, Kyungjae said his name, and 4 in a hoarse whisper that would become iconic.

Kiyong’s teaser was the first not to feature a vehicle in motion. The video opens to him seated atop the hood of a sports car in an empty warehouse, one leg up with his frame sprawled languidly. His blond hair was artfully messy, the expression on his face somewhat manic as he got unsteadily to his feet, swaying to music perhaps only he could hear, almost as if drunk. The track over the video was ominous and a bit slower than the others, a deep and anxiety-inducing bass. Kiyong grinned as he withdrew a lighter from his camouflage-patterned bomber jacket, flicking it on. The camera zoomed in on the flame, an aesthetic effect bleeding into him dropping the lighter on the ground, following the flames as they ignited an accelerant on the ground, forming a circle around Kiyong and the car. The flames reflected beautiful on the shiny metal body of the car, and Kiyong dropped to his knees with an almost reverent sort of joy as he was surrounded by fire, his face clearly seen to be scratched up and bloody. The camera pans to an overhead shot as he collapses onto his back, overcome in a fit of laughter in the center of the flaming ring. Cut to black, Kiyong’s name, and 3.

Finn’s teaser opened with a far more intense and urgent situation than Kiyong’s. His feet pounded on pavement as he ran down back-alleys, clearly from a fight. He wore a simple black silk-shirt and black jeans, though his jacket was red leather. Fresh blood still poured from a split lip, knuckles split and bleeding as could be seen on a close-up of his hand as he seized a chain-link fence in order to scale it and escape his pursuers. Three men chased after him over the fence as Finn continued to run, but rather than seem tense or terrified, the expression on his face is one of sheer, adrenaline-induced satisfaction. He seemed to be entertained by the chase, not concerned in the slightest for his safety, which was clearly jeopardized. He suddenly arrived at a dead-end, cornered by the men, who drew guns on him without hesitation. Finn remained looking self-satisfied, however, and he held up his hands in mock-surrender before suddenly moving to use a dumpster as leverage to haul himself up onto a fire-escape, smooth and decisive with his movements. The men seem momentarily too stunned to shoot, and Finn threw up a condescending peace sign before hurriedly moving onto the roof, running across it with a dramatic drop in the music and jumping to the next rooftop as if he had done it a million times before. He continued running until he simply couldn’t anymore, skittering to a halt atop a rooftop seemingly far away enough from where he had started that he was no longer concerned about his would-be killers. Out of breath but still exhilarated, Finn pushed his silvery-brown hair away from his face, the camera providing a gorgeous close-up of his features, complete with beautiful, hazel-green contacts. He looked stunning despite the injuries to his face, and Finn breathed hard as he made eye contact with the camera, breaking it only when he withdrew a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket as the camera zoomed out again. The contents of the paper were hidden from the viewer’s eye, but whatever it was seemed to please him, as Finn broke out in a smile and shook his head in amusement before looking skywards. A drone shot took over, zooming out and out until the whole of the skyline could be seen, the city a chaotic amalgamation of lights and color before blackness took over and Finn repeated the trend of saying his own name. 2.

Hyukjin’s teaser was the last of the member teasers, and no one expected his to be quite so violent. It began with a shot of him dragging a baseball bat along asphalt damp with recent rain, stickers and paint on the bat declaring statements of anarchy, along with RPM’s name over and over, and SUPERBIA scrawled on the side. The music is driving and violent as the camera zooms out to reveal Hyukjin, looking cocky with a cherry lollipop in his mouth and a fake lip ring, his bright orange hair contrasting with the darkness of the scene otherwise. He was styled with a black leather jacket that was falling mostly off his shoulders, and a black crop top, a harness clearly visible beneath the shirt on his bare skin. His ripped jeans revealed fishnets beneath. Hyukjin approached an empty police car and suddenly swung the bat to bring it down hard on the windshield, a network of cracks exploding from the impact. In time to the music, he continued to wreck the car, looking relatively collected throughout with the candy remaining in his mouth. By the time he felt finished, the police cruiser was a wreck, and Hyukjin let the bat drop to the ground with an appraising look as he surveyed his handiwork. He produced a can of red spraypaint and scrawled, in sloppy English, RPM on the side of the totaled vehicle before tossing the can aside. The camera captured him withdrawing the lollipop from between his lips and biting down on it with a satisfying finality before the black screen and logo took over, and Hyukjin stated his name. 1.

The final teaser featured all of the members walking in a line down the street looking intense, expressions cocky but subtle. Hyukjin still had his baseball bat, slung over one shoulder. The others were empty handed as they approached a line of sports cars awaiting them, headlights on and engines idling as if in anticipation. It had rained, recently, and the puddles on the street reflected the lights beautiful as the boys came to a stop in front of the cars, silhouettes backlit by headlights in the hazy, post-rain atmosphere. A brief clip of their title track, Zero, played as the screen faded to black, their logo featuring the speedometer’s needle dropping to 0.

Z E R O. 10.15.15. COMING SOON. Appeared beneath the logo.

The boys all said their group name, together, and then Jaehwa alone, voice seductive as he said “It’s all or nothing, baby.” in English.

↻ 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

01. ZERO (title) - insp. noir’s break it

02. STEADY (promoted) - insp. monsta x’s calm down

03. ROCK - insp. stray kids’ rock (돌)

04. WILDIN’ - insp. monsta x’s oi

05. LET’S GO - insp. monsta x’s no exit

06. BEWITCH - insp. noir’s magic

↻ 𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

As mentioned above, the hair colors for this album were as follows:

Jaehwa - silver

Yonghoon - black and red

Kyungjae - blue-toned black

Kiyong - midtoned blond

Finn - silvery brown

Hyukjin - orange

The choreography for ZERO certainly showcased the boys’ powerful presences, including a dance break in the middle for Kiyong and Finn. The choreography even starts dynamically, with Finn beginning with a backflip, and both him and Kiyong executing an equally as impressive further tumbling skills during the dance break.

Fans were surprised by the boys’ laidback demeanors when discussing their debut album on shows, expecting more abrasive personalities from idols who can pull off such a concept so well, but they proved themselves duality kings.

The makeup for this era continued to include fake bruises and scratches during live stages, and the trend of messy hair and distressed clothing also persisted during performances!

They filmed the video and teasers in LA.

The music video itself had a storyline, and was nearly ten minutes long. the plot followed the group members as they compete against one another in a high-stakes street race...each with their own motivations for participating, from needing to settle a debt to blackmail. The boys were particularly praised for their acting in their music video, especially Finn. By the end of the video, however, they join together as a group, marking the beginnings of RPM and the formation of the us-against-the-world crime/gang concept they’d continue with.

The video was slightly controversial for the “excessive” displays of violence and romanticizing of crime/a hatred of police, but ultimately, they did what they did and they did it well. The video did need to censor out Yonghoon flipping the camera off and Jaehwa smoking a cigarette, however, even if he weren’t actually smoking.  

An eight-episode series was released following the boys during filming and exploring LA, and Jaehwa was incredibly happy to be back in his home state. There was even an episode where he brings everyone to meet his family, and his mom, a former songwriter and vocal coach for SM Entertainment, sat down with the boys and gave them a very emotional pep talk and expressed her pride in their debut.

The behind the scenes videos were chaos, to say the least. Hyukjin was seen running around giggling pretty much nonstop, Yonghoon stole the maknae’s baseball bat and threatened Kyungjae with it, and Kiyong somehow managed to knock over the motorcycle Kyungjae was using and break the mirror. He tried to play it off, hoping no one saw, but the video editors were evil(tm) and showed a clip of him saying he didn’t know who did it right before cutting to a video of him knocking it over, panicking, and then running away. Jaehwa also had a chance to playfully show off his strength, and he tried to pick Finn up...which he did, successfully, but Finn ended up smacking his head on a light and just making the situation worse. In short: RPM are a mess.

So maybe Hyukjin broke down crying when they got their first few wins, but we don’t talk about that. 

#rpm #rpm.discography #luvkoc #rpm.txt #rpm.jpeg #oc kpop group #oc kpop idol #koc #kpop!oc #fake kpop group #fake kpop idol #idol!oc #idol!au

[godofevrerything]

Hell Rising Chapter Six: Rin

"Ivan, hurry up." I hissed.

"Hang on, Saundrine! I'm not as fast as you!" he panted.

I flicked his forehead, giving him a small shock. "I told you. Call me Rin."

He winced. "Okay. And you don't have to shock me."

"Yeah, I do." I scoffed.

We crept along the walls of the alley. There police cars around, so we had to be careful.

Bang

We jumped.

Ivan looked at me in fear. "W-what was t-t-that?"

I rubbed my hands together, making them spark. "Stay here."

"What!" he yelped. "N-no! I can't let you-"

I clamped my hand over his mouth. "Shhh! I can't let you come. I don't want you to get hurt, okay? Stay here, and if you don't hear me call for you in two minutes, then run."

He stared at me and then slowly nodded his head.

I went forward slowly, holding my breath. There was a thud, and a yelp.

I froze.

And then I jumped.

"Ahhhh!"

It was a girl. A blonde girl.

And then something, no, someone slammed into me.

Kicking, punching, pulling, pinching.

I couldn't tell if  it was a wild cat or a toddler that attacked me.

"Rana! Rana, stop!" the girl screamed. "She's not going to hurt me!"

The girl rushed forward and pulled my attacker away.

It wasn't a wild cat.

Or a toddler.

Instead it was a girl about my age, with messy dark hair and bared teeth.

She stood in front of the blonde girl in a fighting stance. Her eyes were narrowed with suspicion, and fists clenched.

"Rana, it okay! She's not going to hurt me." Blondie said.

"That depends," I scoffed. "You gonna hurt me?"

"Was that a threat?" Rana growled.

"No. Just a fact." I sneered.

Her eyes flashed furiously. She stepped towards me, and every fiber of my body was suddenly on alert.

There was something about her that screamed danger. Maybe her posture, or wild hair.

No.

It was her eyes.

Bright brown, with something more sinister than anger in them. Her eyes were almost glowing.

For the first time in a while, I could feel sharp fear swirling inside of me as well as anger.

I balled my fists and brought them up.

Rana's head snapped to my hands. She paled suddenly, leaping back from the sparks.

Fear shone in her eyes.

I was confused. Most people were stunned and scared of my hands but they weren't, well, as terrified as she was.

I held out my hands. "Hey, calm down. I'm not going to hit you, don't worry."

She leapt back, crashing into the trash cans. Fear was radiating from her.

"Rana!" Blondie gasped.

Blondie raced over and pulled Rana up. Rana looked at me, breathing hard. She was shaking in fear.

"Look, I swear-"

"Rin!"

We all jumped. I slashed my hand out, whipping a rope of electricity at the intruder.

Ivan ducked, dropping to the ground.

"Ivan!" I gasped. "Don't do that! I could kill you!"

He peeked up at me. "But you didn't."

"Yet!" I sputtered.

"Ok, who the hell are you two? And why the hell are you guys even here?" Rana demanded.

I pulled Ivan up. "Well, it's a long story. And one that we won't tell you two."

"Umm, do we have to be so hostile?" Blondie asked. "How about we introduce ourselves?"

"Or how about we don't." Rana snapped. "And we both leave and forget we ever met each other."

"Sounds good." I snorted. "Come on Ivan, let's go."

"Wait!" Ivan yelped.

We frowned at him.

"Why can't we work together? I mean, groups are more successful than just two people. Twice the eyes and ears. Twice the safety." he explained.

I glanced at Rana. Her eyes were narrowed, thinking it over.

Meanwhile, Blondie was almost jumping in excitement at Ivan's suggestion.

"Rana, listen to him!" Blondie gasped. "He's right. Strength comes in numbers."

Rana turned her gaze to me. I looked back at her, and raised my eyebrow. She frowned.

"Look," I sighed. "We don't trust each other, that's obvious. But our friends have a point. There's strength in numbers. If you're willing to cooperate, then I'd like to become a group, even if it's just for a week or so."

I held out my hand to her.

Rana raised her chin. "Trust is important though. Without it, we'll crumble."

I shrugged. "You can leave any time you want."

She hesitated.

A police siren went off in distance, making us all jump.

"Choose quickly." I urged her.

"Fine. But only if you never use your powers against me." she relented. "Or around me, for the matter. Unless we're fighting officials or something."

I sighed. "Of course. That goes without saying."

She hesitated, and then reached out and shook my hand.

I nodded. "I'm Rin."

"Ivan!" Ivan said cheerfully.

"My name is Darcy." Blondie introduced herself, smiling.

"Rana." Rana said.

I gave her a small smile. "Great. Now let's get going before the police come over."

Thud

"Oof!" I yelped.

I shook my head and glared up at my opponent. "What the hell, Lanis?"

She grinned at me. "Sorry, I couldn't hear that!"

I got up and brushed off my pants. "Oh shut up. Don't play the helpless deaf girl, now."

She twirled her baseball bat. "I'm not playing anything. And you must be a damn moron to get beat by the so called helpless deaf girl."

I glared at her. "You caught me off guard and you know it."

Lanis grinned. "Officials aren't going to wait for you to pay attention. I thought you knew this stuff. I mean, you've been on the run for your whole life."

I scoffed. "Sometimes I get distracted."

Lanis's smile dropped. "Rin, you can't get distracted. I'm sorry that you and Rana fought, but if it's bothering you that much, then go talk to her. Come on, it's been three months."

I closed my eyes. "I won't. I don't have anything to apologize for. And anyway, she tends to spend all her time with Jae or Kamira."

Lanis rolled her eyes. "Kamira pretty much sees Rana as her role model, or hell, even an older sister. And Jae and her just click. If you don't like that your girlfriend is spending so much time with Jae, then resolve your argument and then talk about it."

I opened my eyes and groaned. "You say that like it's easy. For one, Rana needs to apologize. I refuse to speak to her until she does. Two, I don't mind her spending time with Jae."

Lanis raised her eyebrow. "Alright, Miss Rin. For one, you're pretty damn arrogant to not even speak to your girlfriend unless she apologizes. I hope you realize that she's just as stubborn and prideful as you are. Two, you sound pretty jealous of her and Jae."

"There is no her and Jae." I snapped.

"And here I thought you weren't jealous." Lanis snorted.

"I'm not. There's nothing to be jealous about, anyway."

"Mmhmm."

"Oh hush. Why don't you go make out with your boyfriend or something?"

Lanis laughed. "Marcus is out in a mission. He should be back later this evening. Then I'll make sure to make out with him."

I picked my staff up. "Yeah, go ahead."

Lanis chuckled. "I'll see you later."

I watched her leave the Arena, her advice rolling around in my head. Lanis gave good advice. And I did miss Rana.

I sighed and tossed my staff up in the air. Maybe I should talk to Rana.

"Hey."

I groaned. "Jae."

She laughed. "Aw, you didn't even have to turn. Have you memorized my voice already?"

"Hard not to memorize it when the damn thing constantly comes out of your mouth." I scoffed.

Jae glared at me. "You ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

"Why," I asked. "Nothing going to change. The truth doesn't get scrubbed out. Too bad I can't scrub out you."

"Why the hell are you so damn aggressive to me?" Jae snapped.

"Oh, haven't I made it clear? I don't trust you. For the few months that I've known you, you've made no attempt to speak to me civilly, you've been  going so far as to avoid me, all the while going out of your way to talk to Rana. I don't know what you have against me, forgive me if I don't trust you." I spat.

She scoffed. "You've been aggressive to me from the moment we met."

"No," I sighed. "I was being cautious."

"Just sounds like you're jealous."

I gripped my staff tightly. "No."

She snickered. "Well, you should be."

I froze. "What is that supposed mean?"

"Well, Rana's just been telling me about how awful you make her feel. How you're always showing off, and never being considerate about what she's been through. You always complain about your mother. Not to mention that you're always using your powers, even though you know she was tortured by electrocution. Sounds to me that you're an awful girlfriend."

I glared at her. "You're lying."

She sighed. "Look, Rana didn't tell you any of this because she didn't want to burden you. You know she's like that."

"No, Rana would've told me if it was this bad." I snapped.

Jae folded her arms. "No, she wouldn't have. She bottles everything up until-"

"she explodes!" I yelled. "Yes, I know how she is. I know me girlfriend!"

"Evidently you don't!" Jae yelled back.

I flinched.

Jae groaned. "Look, I just wanted to let you know. I care about Rana. I know that she still loves you, and you love her. I'm not trying to steal her away. I just want what she deserves. And she deserves to be with you."

I narrowed my eyes. Jae stared back at me, her gaze open and honest.

I hesitated. "No, Rana,"

I paused. Jae did have a point. Rana has a tendency to bottle everything up. Then she'd go and rant to someone else about the problem. She did this with Darcy before, multiple times.

I looked up. "She really said that?"

Jae nodded. "Look, I'm going go grab a bite to eat. You decide on what you want to do. Good luck."

I watched her leave, a pot of uneasiness swirling in my stomach. Was she telling the truth? Did Rana really feel that awful around me?

I remembered the terror in her face when we met. And how she used to leap back from me. But that was four years ago.

But then I remembered her nightmares. How she would wake up, screaming and crying. How she physically couldn't sleep, her insomnia keeping her. The lat night talks. The dark circles under her eyes.

And how she still kept a small distance from me when I used my powers.

How she shuddered when I electrocuted an official.

And how she flinched when I accidentally shocked her, even in her sleep.

I looked down at my hands, tears building up. Did I still terrify her?

Maybe Jae was telling the truth.

But, my mother was a separate issue. I rarely spoke about her. Maybe one time for every fifty times that Rana spoke about the Facility.

Anger burned in me as I remembered our argument.

"It's not their fault that your mom was dumb enough to get roasted!"

How dare she. How dare she say that about Amma, and then go and complain to a stranger.

She could've spoke to Ivan or Darcy. Or better yet, me.

Jae...

Maybe she really was telling the truth.

It made sense.

I wiped the tears off of my face. Oh, hell yes I would confront her.

I tossed my staff to the wall and stormed out of the Arena. Oh, she was going to get it.

I walked into the mess hall, and people backed away from me.

I looked around, and spotted Rana sitting with Jae and Kamira. I went over, trying to keep a cool face.

"Rana?" I whispered. "Can we talk?"

Rana stiffened. "Hell no."

I froze. "Excuse me?"

She turned and glared at me. "You heard me. Hell no."

"Leave us alone." Kamira snapped.

I glared at her. "Hush. I wasn't talking to you."

Rana turned to me, standing up. "Don't talk to her like that."

I glared up at her. "We have to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about." she spat. "I've heard enough."

I frowned. "What you are talking about? We haven't talked in months."

She let out a hiss. "Fine. You want to talk? Follow me."

I sprinted after her, half pissed off and half confused. What did she mean by she's heard enough? I barely said two words to her.

We reached an empty corner of the main market. Rana whirled to me, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Well? You've got one minute."

"What's going on?" I asked. "You've never come around and apologized to me. And now you've been spilling everything to Jae? For Allah's sake, you're just spilling everything to Jae like you've known her for years!"

Rana scoffed. "She's easy to talk to. We just click. And anyway, that's no excuse for you to go around and talk about me to your new best friends."

"What?" I yelped. "I never did that."

"Sure you didn't." Rana sneered. "Don't act dumb, Saundrine. Jae told me everything. She told me that you've been complaining about me to Lanis and Marcus. Talking about how I'm so arrogant and dramatic."

"And you believe her!" I cried. "You barely know Jae! Rana, she's manipulating you!"

"Yeah right! Jae is one of my best friends!" Rana snapped. "Of course I believe her. But not like you would know anything about friendship. After all, you've drifted away from Ivan, Darcy and I. Not to mention that you bad mouth me to your new friends!"

"Now hang on," I yelped. "I've never bad mouthed you to anyone. Yeah, I've talked about the fight to Lanis. Sure, I've said that you can be overly aggressive and dramatic, but-"

Rana burst into laughter. "Well obviously you don't know what bad mouthing means! Because that's exactly what you've been doing! Now if you'd excuse me, I'm going to go talk to some people who actually don't think that I'm overly aggressive and dramatic!"

"Rana!" I yelled.

I jumped in front of her, blocking her path. She froze, glaring down at me.

"Look, just listen-"

She clamped her hand over my mouth.

"Hush! You hear that?"

I froze.

And I could hear it.

Yelling. Stomping. Crying.

From the mess hall.

Rana took off. "Come on! They aren't this loud unless something bad happened!"

I ran after her.

When we came into the mess hall, it was chaos. Everyone was screaming, some people were even crying.

I made out some words.

Help Oh my God Officials Attack

I paled. Oh no.

We pushed our way to the front of the crowd. There was Jae and Rocco standing in the front, with a boy.

No, a man.

Bleeding, with his wheat colored hair messed up and clothes ripped.

It was Marcus.

"Marcus!"

Lanis raced past me and grabbed Marcus, her eyes wide. "Oh my God! Are you okay? What happened? Where does it hurt? Why are you bleeding so much? Who did this to you?"

Marcus yelped in pain. "Nothing! Doesn't matter."

"I beg to differ!" Lanis shrieked. "What the hell happened?"

"Wait," I hissed. "Where's Ivan?"

"Rin! Rana!"

Ivan came barreling at us. He scooped me and Rana up in  tight hug.

"Can't breathe!" Rana sputtered.

He set us down, his eyes wide with concern.

"Are you two alright? You didn't get hurt, did you?" Ivan demanded.

"We're fine." Rana muttered.

We looked him up and down, checking for any injuries. Luckily, he seemed fine.

I exhaled in relief.

"Darcy!" Rana gasped.

She whirled around, panic suddenly filling her eyes. Her body shook, swiveling her head around, looking for Darcy.

"Get out of my way! Rana!"

Rana sprinted towards Darcy's voice, her eyes wide. Darcy came bursting out of the crowd, gasping loudly. I watched Rana hug her tightly.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" Darcy gasped. "You aren't hurt, right? I can't lose you now. I refuse to lose another sister!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Rana mumbled. "More worried about you? Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you? I'll kill them if they did!"

"I'm okay. Just a couple of bruises, don't worry." Darcy answered.

Rana checked her over again, relief filling her face. She crushed Darcy into another tight hug, and Darcy squeezed her back with even more force.

"Darcy!" Ivan yelled.

He charged forward, and swept her up in a tight hug. She laughed loudly, hugging him back.

"It's okay Ivan. I'm okay." Darcy laughed.

Ivan set her down. "You sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Don't worry."

"So you didn't get hurt?" I called out.

Darcy turned to me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I sighed.

"Rin was with me." Rana added. "She didn't get hurt."

"As touching as that is," Jae yelled at us. "We need to know what in the fresh hell happened to Marcus!"

We turned to Marcus.

He was breathing heavily, looking like he just ran a marathon. Lanis had her arm wrapped around him, supporting her boyfriend's weight as best as she could. I noticed that most of the bleeding came from cuts on his face, save the blood dripping from his arm and the cuts on his stomach.

At Jae's shout, he looked up. Marcus's eyes were focused, and he pulled himself up to his full height, barely even wincing. I knew he'd be alright.

"The Admin's men were chasing me." he said. "They're coming to the Haven."

"What?" Rana croaked.

Her face lost all of its color at Marcus's statment. I reached out to hold her hand, but she stepped back, terror filling her eyes.

"Rana?" Darcy asked. "Rana, it's going to be okay."

Rana let out a strangled laugh. "Okay? No it won't! They'll come in, guns blazing, and they'll kill us all! Or worse, we'll meet Ricker!"

She took another step back, her body shaking. She was smiling, but it was shaky and painted on. Her eyes were wild with fear. She looked like a rabid animal.

"Rana," I whispered. "Rana, look at me. He won't hurt you."

Her eyes darted me, breathing hard.

She was about to have a breakdown.

"Liar." Rana gasped. "I can't trust you!"

I flinched.

"Somebody calm her down." Lanis whispered.

"Rana, it okay." Darcy breathed out. "It's going to be okay. We evaded him countless of times, remember? And I'm here. Ivan and Rin are here."

She went over to Rana and reached out, putting her arm around Rana cautiously.

Rana looked up. "Really? Are you telling the truth?"

"Yes." Darcy whispered. "Yeah, trust me. We won't let him hurt you."

Rana stared at her, and then slowly relaxed a bit.

"We're here." Ivan reassured her.

Rana's met mine.

I steeped forward and gave her a smile.

She looked away from me, focusing on Darcy, Ivan and Jae.

Her expression melted into calmness.

"You okay?" Marcus asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. Don't worry about me."

Lanis looked at her carefully. "You sure?"

She nodded again, suddenly turning to Marcus.

"Marcus, are you sure that the officials were chasing you?" Rana asked.

"Yes." Marcus answered.

"There you all are!"

We turned.

Rocco came running over, pulling Kamira behind him

Kamira yanked away. "Jae! Lanis! Rana! Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine." Jae chuckled.

"Everyone else?" Kamira asked.

We all nodded.

"I'm more worried about you." Rocco gasped.

Kamira glared at him. "For the hundreth time Rocco! I. Am. Fine!"

Rocco opened his mouth, but Rana spoke.

"We need to everyone out. We have to split up and move everyone out as soon as possible."

"Agreed. Rocco, you get the people in the front half of the mess hall. Move them down one of the paths. Get them on the move to another city, now." Jae ordered.

"Marcus, you get the people in the back half of the mess hall. Move them in a separate direction from Rocco." Rana added. "We have to spread out."

"I'll get the people in the market on the move." Lanis volunteered.

"What!" Marcus yelped. "No, you have to stick with me!"

"No, I don't." Lanis snapped. "I'll be fine, Marcus. Don't worry about me."

"But-"

"I'll be fine. You need to worry about yourself."

Marcus pulled his shirt up and wiped the blood form his face. When he was done, I could see that most of the blood must've come from the cuts around his eyebrows.

"I'll be fine." Marcus sighed. "But Lanis-"

Guys." Rana snapped. "Get the dramatic goodbye over with. We have to go, now."

"I'll be fine." Lanis said.

She kissed his cheek briefly, and then murmured something in his ear. Marcus nodded, and then they both ran off to their posts.

"Alright." Jae sighed. "Rana, you get-"

"The people in the training grounds. You get the people in the arena, Jae. Rin, you get the people in the infirmary, okay?" Rana ordered.

"What about me?!" Kamira demanded.

Rocco grabbed her shoulders. "You're sticking with me, sis. I won't lose you."

"No! I'm going to help. Rana, Jae, tell him!" Kamira cried.

"Rocco, she can lead the people in the houses." Rana said. "I know she's young, but Kamira has made a name for herself. We're out of adults to lead, and Kamira is respected."

"No." Rocco spat. "She's my little sister. She will stick with me."

"No, I won't." Kamira growled. "You can't make me."

Rocco glanced from Kamira to Rana to Jae. Kamira and Rana were both glaring. Jae gave him a sharp nod.

"Fine." Rocco hissed. "But if she gets hurt, I will personally kill you all."

"I will be okay." Kamira scoffed. "I'll see you soon."

She sprinted through the crowd and out of the mess hall.

"Look," I snapped. "I'm going with Rana. Someone else can take the infirmary. I refuse to leave Rana with Jae."

"Saundrine Iago!" Rana yelled. "Now is not the time for your damn rivalry! Get going, innocent people's lives are at stake, for Gods sake!"

"It's not a rivalry! And someone else can handle them. Can't you see what's happening? Jae's mani-"

"All I can see is that people are in danger and you're refusing to help them." Rana spat.

"I-"

"I'll take care of it." Jae volunteered.

"What? No, you're already covering the Arena. Saundrine, get over with your tantrum and cover the infirmary, now. You don't have a choice." Rana spat.

"She shouldn't help if she doesn't feel the need to." Jae scoffed.

"Excuse me? Of course I feel the need to help those people. It's jus-"

"Then act on that need."Rana interrupted. "Do something instead of standing there and throwing a fit."

"We'll go." Darcy volunteered. "Ivan and I can handle it."

"Yeah." Ivan agreed.

"Thank God." Rana exhaled. "Because somebody refuses to."

She glared at me.

"We got it." Ivan nodded.

Darcy gave Rana a tight hug. "Promise me that you'll be okay."

Rana nodded. "I'll be okay. We'll see you guys soon."

"You too, Rin." Ivan demanded.

I smiled. "I'll be fine. You guys take care of each other."

Ivan hugged me and then Rana. Darcy gave me a quick hug. They stepped back and smiled at us both.

And just like that, my friends were gone.

"Come on." Rana told Jae. "We got to go."

They took off.

I ran after Rana. "Wait!"

She didn't answer.

I grabbed her hand. "Rana, hang on!"

She yanked her hand away. "Don't touch me. You've changed, and I don't like it. I don't know what happened, but as of now, I don't really care. I don't know who you are now, and I don't trust you. Touch me again, and I'll make you break your own wrist."

I stared at her in shock.

But it didn't matter.

Rana has already disappeared.

#Hell Rising #original story #dystopian

[yespleasetommyshelby]

Love in the 21st ~ Jay Halstead Fic ~ Four

It's been an hour since we got the news that Antonio's son, Diego went missing from an alley behind his mothers restaurant, someone who we are assuming is one of Pulpo's associates is demanding Pulpo's release by midnight for the life of Diego, like the life of a little boy is worth less than the life of a sick son of a bitch who likes cutting heads off.

"Hey, I got something." Adam said standing up from his desk and heading over to the board which so far only has Pulpo's and Diego's picture on, slapping on one more. "This guy, Ernesto, he's a midlevel in the dealing scene but he's got his eyes on a spot in Pulpo's gang." He finished just as Hank, Al and Antonio left his office.

"Boss, if we can get this guy we could easily flip him into telling us what he knows about the gang and who might have Diego." I suggest giving Antonio a small hopeful smile as I said his son's name.

"That's a good idea Platt, we just gotta find the guy first." Al nodded giving me a little confidence that I know I'm not wasting mine and their time being in intelligence.

"I got an address." Adam pipes up sticking his head over the top of his computer. "It's a stash house, a CI  just texted saying he'll be there to pick up  some gear in the next hour or so." He said standing up.

"Alright, Platt and Ruzek you sit outside the front, wait till he gets close then make you're move. Don't spook him too early." Voight instructed pointing at the two of us. "The rest of us will wait close by and keep eyes on the scene. Let's go." He almost yelled as he walked away.

We all scrambled grabbing our coats and guns before going down to the armory and grabbing our vests just in case anything goes wrong. Just as I'd finished doing my vest up a pair of hands steadied themselves on the straps around my waist, looking over my shoulder I saw a pair of spar killing blue eyes, Jay.

"Hey, just checking that it was done up properly, don't want mini Platt getting shot now do we?" He chuckled slightly patting my waist before letting go and rechecking his own vest.

"I also doubt you wanna get shot yourself Chuckles, so," I started as I stepped forwards noticing that one of his straps was only half on pulling it off of his shoulder, I strapped it back down in the right place. "You might wanna check you're own vest before worrying about me." I winked at him quickly before turning around and waiting for Voights call.

"Alright! Let's move out." His voice came just as I'd expected, running over to the SUV I jumped in the drivers seat before Adam had even reached it.

"Wait, wait, wait, you're gunna drive?" He asked sarcastically as he climbeed into the passenger seat looking over at me with wide eyes.

"And what is wrong with me driving Ruzek?" I asked turning the key in the ignition whilst watching him, a small smirk on my face.

"Nothing, but after your batting phase at the store who am I to question you?" He shrugged laughing as he looked into my narrowed eyes.

"Hold on tight." I grinned at him before slamming the pedal down and wheel spinning for a second before shooting off, me laughing at the white knuckle grip he had on his door handle.

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

"So, where were you placed before the 21st?" Adam asked as we sat watching the entrance to the stash house, so far it's been forty-five minutes and nobody has gone in or come out.

"I was at the 31st District, not even nearly as exciting though." I shrugged looking over at him to see he was already watching me.

"How come you transferred?" He asked as he scratched the stubble under his chin.

"Uh, let's just call them 'unprofessional arrests." I laughed slightly shrugging at him, him laughing along.

"Like your baseball practice?" He asked with a smirk and raised eyebrow like he already knew.

"Would you stop calling it that." I groaned with a slight laugh. "But yes, like that, according to Trudy Intelligence was the perfect spot for me." I smiled before something caught my eye. "Isn't that him?" I asked lifting my binoculars to get a closer look, it was him.

"We got eyes on the suspect, he's walking towards the front entrance now." Adam spoke into his radio as he get ready to open his door.

"Stand by, wait for him to get closer." Voight's gruff voice instructed though the radio making Adam shake his head.

"I can get him now." He muttered without taking his eyes off of Ernesto.

"We just  gotta wait Adam." I sighed knowing that he was getting impatient, especially with the guy being right there.

"Screw waiting." He mumbled before opening his door and climbing out.

"Adam wait!" I called getting out of the car just as Ernesto took off.

"Suspect is running, heading east away from the front entrance, officer Ruzek is in pursuit." I called into the radio before jumping in the car and racing in the direction that they were heading.

----------

Long story short, the plan failed. Adam went in for the arrest too early and spooked the guy, there was a pursuit on foot but as Erin tried to block his path she was smacked in the head with the butt of the gun and the guy got away, to say Antonio was pissed was an understatement.

"This is your fault!" He yelled pointing his finger in Adam's face once we got back to the bullpen, Al and Jay holding him back by an arm each.

"Walk it off Antonio!" Voight's gravely voice demanded as he walked up the stairs behind the ongoing commotion.

"Sarge." Dawson started before he was cut off. "I said now, Detective." Was all Voight had to say for Antonio to grab his jacket and storm out.

"I need some air." Adam muttered as he walked towards the stairs, hearing the gate slam a few seconds later I looked over at Erin, Jay and Al who were all watching what had just happened.

"Go talk to him." Al said looking directly at me.

"What? Why me?" I asked confused seeing as I was still new to this whole intelligence thing too.

"Because he seems to connect with you more than any of us at the minute, plus you're both new, it might be some comfort to the kid." Al said wisely before motioning to the stairs with his head.

"Okay, where do I find him?" I asked unsure, having no real idea of where to start looking.

"Try the changing rooms, seems to be where everyone hides." Jay suggested sharing a knowing look with Erin, must be some kind of inside joke type thing.

"Uhm, okay, I will be back then." I said quietly as I made my way down the stairs, through the gate and down to the sergeant's desk. "Hey Trudy, did you see where Adam went?" I asked looking around to see if I could spot him in the lobby.

"I think he went to the changing rooms, one second." She told me before turning back to the two patrolmen I had met on the first day. "Atwater I am telling you that there is no chance that you can swap shifts tomorrow it's too short notice and It's not really my problem what you're missing out on." She said to Kevin before turning back round to me. "Anything else Kyles?"

"What's tomorrow Kevin?" I asked looking up at him since he's at least a head taller than me.

"My little sisters got some kind of sports and activity day at school tomorrow, she didn't tell me till yesterday afternoon and she's been begging all night." He sighed rubbing his hands over his face as Kim patted his shoulder.

"I'll do it, I'll cover the shift, no need to swap." I said smiling at him before turning to Trudy. "I can do that right?" I asked unsurely.

"You can, but you'd have to go out on the beat, uniform, partner and all. You okay with this?" She said nodding down at Kim.

"That is absolutely fine sergeant." She nodded sending me a small smile.

"Fine, whatever." Trudy sighed defeated before a crash was heard coming from the changing rooms, Adam.

"Oh shoot, I totally forgot, I gotta go talk to him." I said motioning down the halls with my thumbs as I backed away from the desk slowly. "I'll see you guys later!" I called turning round and practically sprinting into the room.

"Hey." I said quietly as I spotted Adam sitting on one of the benches with his head in his hands, a bin lying on it's side a few feet away, I'm assuming that's the source of the crash we heard a minute ago.

"Hey." He mumbled looking up at me before rubbing his hands over his face.

"Wanna tell me what's up?" I asked as I took a seat next to him.

"It's my fault Kylie, I'm the reason that he got away." He sighed bowing his  head to the ground.

"Hey, you can't pin this on yourself, I don't know about you but I wasn't expecting him to run." I began placing my hand on his shoulder and rubbing slightly. "He may have got away but we're still going to find Diego and bring him home safe and sound." I reassured him making him lift his head and look at me.

"But we could've already had him by now, if I hadn't rushed it." He groaned looking up before back down to me.

"You can't think like that Adam." I sighed standing up and holding my hands out to him, looking at me sightly confused he took hold of my hands and pulled himself up. Letting go of one I pulled him slightly by the other. "Come on, we've got a little boy to find."I told him letting go completely before leaving the changing room, Adam right behind me.

As we walked up the stairs back into intelligence Jin came running in with his laptop, placing it on Antonio's desk we all gathered round, It was a video of Diego, his hand and legs were tied to the chair with rope.

"When was this filmed?" I asked looking over at Jin.

"It's happening right now, it's a live stream." He said looking over at Dawson who stood up and stormed into Voight's office, slamming the door behind him, Voight following a few seconds behind.

"Uh, any chance we can track where it's coming from?" I asked getting back to the case at hand.

"I'm trying, but it's pinging different locations around the world." Jin said sighing.

Nodding my head I sighed and made my way into the break room to make myself a tea, as I'd reached the kettle I heard the door close turning round I saw Adam walking towards me with a small smile on his face.

"Thank you, for uh, earlier." He shrugged reaching up and grabbing his own mug before pouring the coffee.

"We're a team Ruzek, I'll always be here for you to talk to, no matter what." I smiled up at him leaning back against the counter.

"I appreciate it, I really do." He said quietly as he looked down.

"Guys, Antonio's got something." Erin said opening the door and poking her head through, motioning back to the bullpen.

Walking back into the bullpen I couldn't help but feel eyes on us, looking over I spotted Jay looking between me and Adam with a blank expression, okay then.

"My CI gave us info that they could be hiding Diego here." Antonio said slapping a picture of a rundown hotel up on the board. "It's an old hotel that's not been used for a couple years."

"Alright, Let's go get Diego." Voight said patting Antonio's back before leading the way out of intelligence.

#jay halstead fic #jay Halstead imagine #jay Halstead imagines #one chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #one chicago imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #one chicago #love in the 21st four

[leelee10898]

Chikara: Itami (4/?)

Summary: Ellie has been saved, but how will the events of the attack effect her? Meanwhile in California, the brotherhood makes another move. The word Itami, roughly translates to pain.

Catch up HERE. As always if you'd like added to the tags, let me know. Also I apologize in advance, tumblr apparently hates the read more feature stil....

Raiting: Mature. Series contains Violence, language, death and Lemons..

Compton, California….

Ximena slipped out to her red SUV, she had it painted to try to throw the brotherhood off her trail. The night Jason was arrested she took off for Compton. An old friend had a house she could crash and lay low for a while, the only person who knew her whereabouts was Colt. With him showing up she would need to put some effort in relocating again, keeping the trail Cold. A quick trip to the 24 hour market for some groceries and she was headed back to her safe house. Not a soul in sight she slowed to a stop at the sign and signaled right. Suddenly a car with no lights came out of nowhere plowing into her car, sending it spinning around 3 times before coming to a stop.  

[[MORE]]

Ximena hit her head on the window, her body jostled around from the collision. She tried to turn the engine over to no avail. Fuck she growled, reaching for her baseball batt she kept tucked away in the back seat. She could make out two figures stepping out of the vehicle  behind her. She quickly assessed her surroundings, her only vantage point was her car stopped crooked, her passenger side a blind spot. She carefully climbed into the passenger seat, quietly opening the door and slipping out.

"Hester warned us about her, she's tough. Stay alert." She heard one of them say as she stayed hidden in the shadows. Come on. Come on. Just a little closer. she thought to herself. "The doors open, she's gone. Check the alley." The other man spoke, as she heard footsteps approaching. Lucky for her, he passed by where she was standing. Once he turned to leave she jumped out from behind the dumpster, swinging the bat at the man, he hit the ground with a thud. She took off running towards her car, the other man on her tail. He lunged at her, grabbing her waist. He was larger than her, not giving her much advantage she struggled against the man finally wriggling free. "You son of a bitch." She swung her arm, the man ducking and landing a blow to her side.

Ximena clutched her side, fire raging through her veins, "big mistake asshole." She reached out grabbing the thug by this neck, bringing her free hand up to punch him in the jaw. The man struggled against her as She backed him up against the wall, pushing him up against it with force, knocking him out cold.  Rushing to her car she climbed in the passenger side, settling behind the wheel. "Come on. Come on." She grunted turning the key, as the engine sputtered. She noticed the other man emerging from the alley way, wielding a baseball bat. Finally the engine roared to life, the man jumped in front of the car, ximena clipped him with the passenger side,  sending him flying backwards.

She picked up her phone, frantically searching for a number.  "Colt. Its ximena, i'm on my way to you.. and your plan, I want in."

New York……

Ellie laid in the hospital bed, still unconscious. The nurses and doctors had left the room, leaving only Nick and her. After answering numerous questions by hospital staff and the cops, he was finally given permission to see her. When Ellie told him she was leaving the party, he was so caught up in the fact she put him in the friendzone, then worry about her safety. After a moment to compose himself, he mentally reprimanded himself for allowing a beautiful girl like herself to walk home alone, and so he set out to trail behind her. He only found her as she darted into a dead end alley, a figure following behind her. By the time he had reached her, she laid barely conscious as he grabbed the assailant off of her, and beat him until he passed out. He called 911 reporting the incident, and Ellie and the assailant were taken to the hospital.  

He was able to get into her phone and give the hospital her dads number. His memory reaching back to the image on her wallpaper, the boy with the leather jacket, dark hair and eyes, his arm wrapped around her waist. He knew he must have been something special to her, the fact made him a little jealous.  He stood next to her bed "Ellie, I need you to wake up. I need you to be ok." He spoke as he noticed her hand started to move. Slowly she opened her eyes, an audible gasp escaped her as she began to panic. "Ellie. Ellie, hey its ok you're ok." She looked over to Nick, relief and confusion on her face. "Nick? Where. Where am I? She whispered. "You're at the hospital, do you remember what happened?" She nodded her head, lifting her arm that was free from wires and iv lines to the back of her head.

"The brotherhood." She whispered.  Nick snapped his head to look at her "what did you say?" A nurse walked in "oh miss wheeler, glad you're awake. Im Nadia, I'll be the nurse taking care of you." She walked over assessing her. "Well everything looks good, however they do want to keep you overnight for observation. And there is a couple police officers who would like to speak to you." Ellie nodded as the nurse left the room, a minute later tow officers walked in.

"Hello miss Wheer, im officer grubbs. This is officer Davis" he motioned to the man standing next to him.  "we would like to ask you a few questions about what happened."

Ellie began to tell them how she had left a party to walk home by herself, when she was followed and cornered in an alley and then attacked by the man. "I see, and do you know the person who attacked you, had you ever seen him before?" Ellie shook her head "No. He said that Jason Shaw sent him to get rid of me. I have never seen him before tonight."

Officer Davis approached her "Had you been drinking at this party?" Ellie looked at the officer shocked.  "I had one cup of punch, hours before I left the party."

"So you're saying your judgment could be clouded by Alcohol consumption. " Davis smirked slightly.

"No. I'm saying that man followed me into an alley with every intention to kill me." Ellie bagam to tear up, frustrated by the turn of events.

"Kill is such a strong word. Were there any witnesses? The way we're told is you two have a history and your jealous boyfriend here stepped in while he was trying to save you."

"Davis!" Officer Grubbs warned.

"No. That's not what happened at all. I don't know him." Ellie sobbed.

Nick stood up from his chair "Hey, that asshole was attacking my friend.  He's the one you should be grilling, not Ellie."

Davis laughed out "ok casanova, calm yourself."

"I'm sorry miss wheeler if this had upset you. I have your statement, he will see a closed circuit judge." Grubbs spoke with a soothing voice.

"What. What will happen to him?" Davis gave her a  wicked smirk, Grubbs more sympathetic.

"He will be charged with assault, however he already has someone trying to post bail."

"B- bail? No. No no no, He's working for the brotherhood. Jason Shaw sent him to kill me. Check the FBIs wanted list, you cant let him go." Ellie sobbed out.

Davis gave her a smirk and walked out the door, in that moment she knew he was in their pocket. Grubbs walked up placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Im sorry Ellie, the best advice I can give you is to file a no contact order against him. I wish there was more we could hold him on." He gave her a sad smile and walked out the door.

Ellie began to panic, Jason wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted, revenge on her for taking him down. "My dad. I need to call my dad." She tried to get out of bed. "Hey, hey calm down Ellie. The hospital called your dad, he's on his way here." Nick assured her as he wrapped his arms around her small shaking frame. "Ellie, it's going to be ok. It's all going to be ok." Nick assured her in a soothing voice, calming her down. Something about the way he spoke was so familiar and she realized it was the same reassuring, soft tone Colt took with her it made her heart ache.

They sat there like that for a while, until the nurse came in telling them they were moving Ellie to a bed in the main hospital and Nick had to leave. That night Ellie struggled to find a good night's sleep, she tossed and turned until exhaustion took over.

Jason looked at her,  a maniacal smile that bared his teeth, chilling her to the bone. "I told you Ellie, Do as I say and nobody gets hurt. It's a shame you didn't listen."  Colts limp body sat hunched over in the chair, clinging between life and death. She tried to scream but her voice failed her, instead she sobbed out a pleading cry as he sauntered over to Colt. "Please. Please no." She managed to get out. "Such a sweet, innocent little thing still.  To bad that delicate skin is going to be your undoing. Say bye bye to lover boy." Jason lifted his hand pulling the trigger.

"Colt….." she Jerked up in bed, screaming as a constant flow of tears streamed her face. She looked around the room,  still in the hospital, alone. No Jason, no Colt, just her completely and utterly alone. The events of the past day wearing her down, He was supposed to keep her safe,  he told her going to Langston would keep her safe and it didn't. He failed to keep her safe, and he failed to do what he promised he would, Love her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft rapp at the door. A petite brunette nurse peeked her head in. "Ellie, Its early and we usually don't allow visitors at this hour, but someone wants to see you." Her eyes landed on her dad, he quickly crossed the room throwing his arms around her.  "Oh Ellie. Oh thank god you're ok." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Im ok. She flinched, her body sore from the attack. "If something happened to you Ellie, I don't. I don't know what I would do."

"Im alive." Her tone with a hint of harshness to it. She was angry at Colt for his failed promises,  it wasn't until her father came that she realized she was angry at him too.

"What's wrong Ellie? You seem a little angry." Her dad pulled back, sensing her tone. She sat there, silent for a moment he expression unreadable. "Why didn't you tell me Jason wasn't in jail?"

Her dad, caught off guard by her question doubled back. "Ellie…"

"Dad! Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded.  She was angry, much more than she thought.

"I. Was just trying to protect you." His voice soft, maybe a hint of shame in it.

"Right, because I'm this delicate little flower that everyone thinks cant handle the tough stuff." She scoffed.

"I wanted you to focus on school. The farther you were from this, the safer. " her father reached for her hand, she pulled it back quickly. "Well, look how well that worked out." She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty tired dad. I think im going to get some rest. You should go get some sleep too. I'll see you later."  Her dad looked at her with a sadness that screamed heartbreak but he nodded anyway. "Ok. Get some sleep, I love you Ellie." He leaned over giving her a soft kiss. "Love you too, dad."

Once the door closed she tossed herself on the bed.  Jason's words from her dream running through her head. Too bad that delicate skin is going to be your undoing. She was soft, everyone seen her as a softie who needed saving, who couldn't get the job done. She was weak, meaningless and useless and that had to change. As she laid there she felt the darkness creep over, no longer would she be weak, useless, the girl who always needed saving. She wouldn't allow Jason to pull her puppet strings anymore.  he was going down once and for all, and she was going to be the one to do it. No matter what it took.

Permatag

@kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @indiacater @blackcatkita @darley1101 @hazah @desiree-0816

ROD

@daniv2278 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @going-down-downtown @mercyparkcrew @emichelle @annekebbphotography @walkerismychoice @yesivefallenpreytothechoicestrap @zaira-oh-zaira @sweetest-marbear

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#chikara rod fan fic #choices ride or die #choices ride or die: a bad boy romance #leelee10898 fan fic #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #rod colt #ellie wheeler #ximena rod #lemons

[monomas-a-smug-bih]

May I request a hurt Bakugou Katsuki in a apocalyptic setting? Like how he’d react to someone trying to help him with the injury?

Decided to make a scenario out of this, got a little long woops 🤷‍♀️

—-

The blonde felt his heart threaten to beat straight out of his chest. Even though he’d never admit it, he was starting to feel scared. He had no idea what the hell was going on, Bakugou had woken up to an empty house (since his parents had work in the morning), and when he went out, he noticed things around here had gotten strange. The main street was filled to the brim with cars, the traffic looked ridiculous, horns blaring thanks to panicking and trapped drivers. Screams and shouts of running passerby’s filling the sidewalks.

Bakugou had remembered that day all too well, and now, he’d realized it’d just been the shitty beginning to an even shittier end. His end. He’d die beside this damned brick wall, whether it’d be from bleeding to death or those... damned things. He’d been dumb enough to find himself in some back alley, the problem being in mere seconds he’d surrounded from both (and only) exits out of the alleyway. His right knee throbbed, the fabric of his dark navy jeans torn to shreds in several places, revealing the bloody result of a very shitty landing. The same failed landing that caused a merciless soreness to climb his calf in striking pains that were zapping his limb like lightning.

It hurt like hell. If he was in good condition, he’d give climbing one of the buildings on either side of him a shot, but his damned leg made sure he could barely run. His steel bat would be nothing but useless against them when they started swarming into the alley. There’d be way too many to use such a close combat weapon against such a hungry crowd, it was way too risky. But as the roars and groans echoing in his head sounded closer, more and more started appearing from both sides one by one, turning the many strategies in his head to mush with the arising panic in his chest. His head whipped side to side, trying to keep an eye on where they were coming from, if he wanted to get out of this he’d have to do it fast. Even if he did start climbing he’d be way too slow with his injuries. Maybe if he could-

“HEY! UP HERE!” A female voice pierced through his rushed thoughts, he looked up hopelessly. A petite looking girl sat on the top of the lower of the two buildings, a house, her h/c braids dangling over the triangular roof top where she kneeled. The undead behind him caught his attention, Bakugou had never been one for baseball, but his aim was spot on and he packed a lot of force into his swings. A metal ting sounded from the bat, colliding into one of the walking corpses’s skull, his dark warm jacket lifting at the action. That only seemed to attract more attention, worrying the boy. The girl slid skillfully down the shingles of the roof making them rattle as she went, hanging her shoulders off and reaching out to him once she gotten to the edge. He ran over and grabbed on with a second thought. She struggled to pull him up, almost falling in the process.

“Fuck!” He shouted in agony, his legs kicked at the wall, trying to find some kind of step desperately, moving his injured limb so much made it feel like his whole leg was on fire. He managed to pull his shoulders over the edge, clawing at the shingles to pull the rest of himself over. But alas, the sound of crumbling clay reached his ears, his clawing fingers slid and lost their grip. He slipped off and landed on his back far from gracefully, his steel weapon clattering to the ground in defeat with him. The mysterious girl cursed and jumped down,

“Are you alright?” She stuck a hand out, but the hot-headed blonde denied it and got up unsteadily himself. He narrowed his sharp red eyes, keeping his attention to the several undead that had started pouring into the alley.

“Fucking peachy.” The boy groaned in response. The way she cut in front of him and stood like she was his shield bothered him. He could take care of himself, he didn’t need her pity. He watched the girl look frantically back and forth, he could tell the gears in her head were turning. Maybe she’d realize this was stupid and ditch him. But she didn’t, her face brightened at the sight of a rectangular wooden box thing by the house. After bashing in a couple rotting skulls herself with a rusted wrench she held she grabbed his arm and ran over. He cursed and protested, his leg being in excruciating pain the whole time. He watched her get down into the hole/box, and inside had been a small cloudy basement window. Before she could throw any orders at him when she looked up, he steadied himself and readied his bat. “Just do your damn thing already!” He snapped. The chuckling smile she sent him made him feel weird, but it was ignored and he put his remaining energy into killing whoever would interrupt her work. She lay on her back propped up on her elbows and kicked hopefully over and over, up until the glass pane finally gave in and broke. Bakugou heard his queue in the form of shattering glass, the girl got up and pointed for him to go first. With a displeased rose red glare he did so anyways, the groans and moans of the undead were starting to get to him anyways. He squeezed in and plopped down, steadying himself when he hit the ground to prevent another injury. Only for the landing to pain his whole right half thanks to the blasted wounds he had already. The girl slid through and grabbed something he couldn’t quite make out in the darkness, forcing it up through the window to replace the shattered glass. It was unsettling to Bakugou, he could barely see the movement in the room, so when mystery chick stopped for a second to think, he was left in complete darkness. Not to mention his legs were half useless, right now he felt so vulnerable it pissed him off. Soon enough a small light erupted from the girl’s palm, her other small hand held a matchbox. It was little but it was light. Bakugou let out a sigh of relief, trying to force himself up to his feet again, only to find his leg barely wanted him to move with all of the striking pains it sent through his body. He tried again. “G- argh- DAMMIT!” He winced at the agonizing pain in his right lower half. Before he even saw her move again she was at his side. He felt careful hands catch him under his arms and gently force him back down.

“Stop it already, all stubbornness is ever going to buy you is a nastier leg!” He scoffed, looking away. The h/c girl sighed, the sound of a zipper. reaching his ears. “Hold this.” She waved the match in his face. He swiped it aggressively, but it still worked, emitting light onto his surroundings. She took out some square thing that turned out to be a candle when she lit it with the match in his hand, afterwards burning it out like she asked. Bakugou watched the embers crackle in on themselves on the top of the match, fascinated by the flames and their smoky exit. He looked back to the girl.

“What freak carries around candles?” He grumbled.

“One that knows what their doing.” She retroted sassily, igniting his red eyes as she focused on finding what she needed from her patchy bag. “Oh, and it’s y/n l/n by the way.”

She offered (more like convinced him) to help him, Bakugou accepted reluctantly and y/n started to tend to his wounds the best she could. Bakugou watched her mumble and go through her little supplies. Something slipped out that made him chuckle a little.

“Ugh, this would be much easier if your pants were off.”

“Fuck buy me dinner first.” He snorted. Y/n’s shy laugh seemed to echo through the dark room.

“Any chance I could know your name first?” She hoped, sloppy but still cute h/c braids framing her soft face. The hot-headed boy considered it, sighing and giving in.

“Bakugou Katsuki.” The candle light flickered and bounced on their bodies, working just enough for them to somewhat see each other.

“Alright Bakugou, and I was kinda being serious... Your whole leg looks like shit.”

“Ugh, whatever perv.” He retorting, lifting himself up anyways.

“I prefer doc.”

Bakugou awkwardly sat with his pants half off, he left the (mostly) unharmed leg clothed. He never thought he’d be in a situation like this, half useless and half in his boxers. In front of someone he’d just met no less. He plopped down and sat up against a wall clumsily. Y/n held the candlelight over his right leg, bringing light to the bloodied scrapes, gashes and bruises running up his leg.

“Yikes. You didn’t even clean it up?” He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t exactly have the time to, running for his life and all. Y/n just huffed and dug into her bag again, grabbing an old cloth and a cloudy looking plastic bottle, the label too ripped and crumpled to read. He saw her hesitate, staring into the blank label of the bottle with worried e/c orbs.

“The hell is it now?!” Her soft eyes snapped up to him, her braids bouncing with the turn of her head.

“N-nothing! I just know this stuff hurts... like a lot.” Bakugou rose a blonde brow, wondering what kind of memories she’d made that caused her to look at a half empty plastic container so concerned.

“Well too bad, you think I’m weak enough for that shit to affect me?” She looked at his intense rubies oddly, sighing and pouring the substance onto the cloth in her hand muttering.

“Nevermind then.”

Y/n pressed the soaked cloth into his injured leg, the stinging sensation made his breath catch in his throat. But he suffered through it quietly, aside from the several hushed curses he let out for the bloodier parts of his injuries.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, dabbing reluctantly. Why was she apoligizing? He hated to admit it, but she’d helped him more than anything. He winced again his body tensing, feeling what he guessed was some kind of disinfectant seep and burn into the raw sensitive flesh of another gash. “S-Sorry.” These apologies were starting to irritate him. So he went to distraction to shut her up.

“Where the hell’s your group anyway?” He asked bluntly. Y/n seemed to come back to reality, looking up to the spiky-haired boy. She looked skeptical.

“Who said I had a group?” E/c eyes narrowed suspiciously. Bakugou rolled his crimson pools in annoyance.

“You’re way too damn friendly to be alone. You wouldn’t last a week on your own.” The weirdass girl seemed to take it as a compliment, despite the last part.

“Thanks, but ehh! Wrong.” She said, making the dumb buzzer noise like she was some game show host. Bakugou growled perplexed and annoyed. Y/n she smirked proudly, but he could clearly see something was hiding behind her friendly behaviour and bright eyes. “I’ve been by myself for a little more than a week!”

She sighed and looked tiredly to the ground, the false smile fading form her lips as soon as it came. “But you would’ve been right around a week ago...”

“You lost your group? How the hell ‘d you manage that?” He asked, trying his best not to sound as harsh as usual. Her hand paused on his thigh, catching his attention. She tensed, the silence making her clenching fist audible. She sat paused and silent for a few moments, Bakugou felt a little flustered not used to this kind of closeness. He was felt that weird feeling again, her small frown making his throat tighten. She hung her head quite close to his, her playful tone from earlier fading to something of bitterness and resentment.

“Some bandit assholes wanted supplies and felt like killing some harmless teenagers... we just happened to be them.” She huffed, raising her face to his again, her eyes drifting to the right. We got seperated, and... here I am.” Y/n gulped and glared into the candle’s dancing flame. Bakugou observed the saddened girl, her braids swinging slightly and her brows knitted together, regret filled orbs burning into his stomach distant. Her explanation seemed to reveal the unnoticed gauze that was wound up her left arm, stretching from her pinky to right before her elbow, he guessed it’d been from the so called bandits she’d mentioned, he felt his blood boil. He wouldn’t have expected such a tragic back story from someone as thoughtful and nice as her. Maybe she wasn’t just another bubbly extra after all.

“Shit...” Bakugou said breathlessly, not the best at reacting to these kind of things. Y/n laughed a little.

“Yeah.” She sniffled, wiping her face. “Shit.” The petite girl took a deep breath, changing the subject. “Anyways, I’ll get some bandages so you can get your pants back on.” She did so, wrapping his leg in some soft feeling wrap.

“There, feel any better?” Bakugou glanced at y/n knowing she was probably the one that needed feeling better if anyone. He bit back his pride and tried to mentally prepare a not-totally-shitty thank you.

“Yeah,” he admitted, pulling his pant leg back on. “y’ saved my ass back there... t-thanks.” A wonky smile creeped its way onto her face.

“No problem, glad I could help.” She put her things back into her bag, pushing herself up to her feet. Bakugou attempted to do the same, pushing off the wall and gritting his teeth for the up coming pain. But before he could continue, a small hand entered his vision. Despite being rejected the first time around, she insisted on putting a hand out for him. He took it this time, thinking of it as a way to show gratitude without having to say anything, since words had never really been his strong suit. Y/n pulled him up carefully, her wonky smile now an adorable grin. He tried not to let his curious ruby eyes linger on her face for too long when she giggled in delight, he leaned down and scooped up his stained baseball bat.

The two of them found their way to a stair case, finding the house had been abandoned and it was safe enough to go outside. Y/n followed Bakugou out of the little house, she’d been unusually quite. The explosive blonde turned, noticing the slow paced footsteps behind him come to a stop. He hummed and looked over his shoulder curious as to why you’d stopped so abruptly, his dark fur-hooded jacket swaying in the breeze. Fiery red pools burned into her for an answer. The tense girl deflated with a sigh, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“I guess we’ll be going our separate ways now... right?” She let a small frown climb onto her face, unknowingly pulling at the boy’s heart strings. Bakugou turned to her fully, the cool breeze running through his ashy locks.

“Where are you going anyways?” The girl sent him a vague shrug that filled him with unsatisfactory.

“Who knows, wherever there’s supplies, I guess.” She spoke breathlessly. He could practically see her enthusiasm vanish with the afternoon wind, the quick frown on her face hiding and flattening into a line. He paused, choosing his words carefully.

“And where would that be?” He spoke nonchalantly, raising a blonde brow unfazed. Y/n seemed surprised at that response, caught off guard.

“Oh, I don’t really have a p-plan or anything...ahah.” She laughed nervously. Bakugou just took a couple steps closer to the troubled girl.

“Well either damn way I’m coming, I need shit too y’know.” He watched the female blink up at him, her soft eyes seeming to brighten up a bit. The moment her frown flipped into a relieved smile a smirk climbed onto his face. She balled up her shaky fists.

“S-seriously?” She asked for confirmation, eyes sparkling with hope as if having someone actually want to stick around with her was too good to be true. Bakugou blinked, staring down at her with as much seriousness as he could muster. She pumped a victorious fist into the air happily, shiny braids bouncing on her shoulders. “Heck yes!” Within seconds y/n had yanked Bakugou by the sleeve and had her face buried into his chest.

“Hey! The h-hell d’ you think y-you’re doing?!” The flustered teen shouted, suddenly engulfed in the girl’s warm and welcoming embrace. He waved his hands up ready to attack on instinct. She pulled away a little and giggled at his rosy cheeks with an honest smile plastered onto her face, surprisingly strong arms still wrapped around his waist. Despite having been almost hugged to death, Bakugou was secretly glad to see the lingering loneliness finally absent from her big bright eyes.

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