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maybeitsalivescribbles · 2 months

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VH - Divide And Conquer

(Tw: attempted torture)

“I can't believe we finally have caught the legendary Vampire Hero”, said Villain.

The two Heroes glanced at each other and shrugged. The taller one frowned.

“Legendary ?” he repeated.

Villain looked at him with interest.

“Oh yes,” he said. “Many have fallen before your might, Vampire Hero. At least two or three of my opponents are behind the bars because of you.”

“Two or three and you call that legendary ? You're easy to impress.”

The other Hero was nervously following the exchange. Compared to his companion, he seemed much younger and frailer. His eyes were shinier and shinier with tears that did not quite fall. When at least it looked like he couldn't take it anymore, he stepped between the two, saying:

“Stop ! It's my fault ! It's all my fault if we got caught. Hurt me, not him!”

Villain gave the young Hero an amused look:

“Why is that little thing with you, Vampire Hero ?”

His interlocutor shrugged:

“You know. He's new. I'm supposed to show him the ropes or something. You have to teach them some way or some other. ”

“Is that so.”

Villain lift the smaller Hero's chin with a finger:

“My dear little one, how can I hurt him ? Many have tried and many have failed. I'll just make him have a nice little sunbath so he's neutralized. But since you've asked so nicely, I will take care of you.”

“Surely there must be another way ! I'm sure you can do better. I-I'm sure that deep inside, you're a little pure of heart.”

“ You heard your protector, you need to learn.”

He grabbed Hero by the arm, who turned his head toward the man who accompanied him. The latter just shrugged.

“Do you think he cares ?” simpered Villain to his ear. “Oh, he doesn't. He might be on your side, but Vampire Hero is evil. You're better off with me.”

Hero whimpered but didn't resist as he was dragged into the stairs.

“There are seventeen steps. Do you hear the sound they make ? There's an echo, so the prisoners down there can hear me coming. It’s all in the anticipation.”

In a sweet voice, he kept describing their surroundings while they were both descending into his torture room. During all the way, the small one didn’t dare fight back. He soon found himself tied up to a chair, helplessly squirming, his eyes giving a pleading look more than ever.

“So, young Hero,” purred Villain, “as it is your first time, I will make you a favor.”

“R-Really ?”

“Yes. Do you see all these instruments in the shelf in front of you ?”

Hero looked at the whips, the canes and the nails, and shuddered so violently it almost looked fake.

“I'm going to let you choose one among them. If not, I will choose, and you won't like it very much if I do.”

“You don't have to do this ! I-You just will make Vampire Hero angry and you don't want to !”

“You think he will rescue you?”

“I know he will.”

“How touching. But for now you're mine. So make your choice, before I get impatient.”

Hero pondered for a few seconds, then whispered:

“Um – the taser ? Yes – the taser, please.”

“If you ask so nicely.”

Villain delicately took the black rectangular shape in his hand and switched it on.

“Why, if I might ask ? Do you think it will hurt less than the others ? Let me prove you wrong.”

The half-hour that happened then looked much more pleasant for Villain than for Hero. And yet, as time passed, Villain felt somewhat uneasy. That had nothing to do with torturing a man, of course. He liked the thrashing, he liked the begging, he liked the naive faith of the innocent who was certain that he could be saved. Maybe that had something to do with the other Hero. While Villain was amusing himself, Vampire Hero was out of his sight. He might have been careless. He glanced at his watch, but Hero making a rather unconvincing whimper forced him to turn his head.

Perhaps that was the problem. Villain was used to the sounds of pain – the gasps, the moans, the howls, the cries and the pleas. He loved all of them without distinction, and of course he knew that they were a little different with each person. It was a familiar melody that Hero was singing, but thinking about it, it was slightly out of tune, and it got progressively worse. It was getting on his nerves. These rookies these days – they didn't even now how to scream right.

“Let's have a break,” he said.

“Oh well, I guess I’ve held that long.”

Villain raised an eyebrow, amused:

“Getting defiant, are we ? Careful, you sound like you’re disappointed.”

He stared into his prisoner’s eyes, hoping to get a look of terror, but all he got was a frown. Hero...genuinely looked displeased.

“Sorta”, he said. “In my time I didn’t have this kind of toys to play with. I guess having a little blue spark in your hand looks fun, but that doesn’t look like it does that much damage.”

“In your time ? What are you talking ab- wait.”

Hero tilted his head. For a moment he sounded impassible, but he broke soon enough. A loud, loud laugh resonated in the room, while the prisoner was squirming in his chair for a very different reason than before. His way of moving betrayed no pain at all.

“Are you shitting me,” said Villain, whose voice was now icy.

Hero grinned:

“You tell me, pal. I can’t believe you swallowed my “pure of heart” bullshit. I was laying it on so thick.”

Villain glared at him.

“Not that you were especially subtle either”, Hero added. “Oooh, the anticipation !” Do that again?”

Villain stood up and went to the door as fast as self-respect allowed. There was no one left under the sunlight. The guards were on the ground, unconscious.

“How -”

He turned back. Hero was now standing up, neglectfully throwing away the remnants of the straps that held him a moment before. He dramatically exclaimed, a hand on his heart:

“Oh no, he got away ! My, my. Poor little me. Tell you what, though. If Vampire Hero were so legendary, you should have bothered to know what he looks like. I didn’t mean to pass for someone else, but you’ve so graciously given me the opportunity.”

“It can’t be ! How could the – the other have escaped then ?”

“I hate to break it to you, but they are several heroes with super strength.”

Villain blushed and stayed quiet, his lips pursed. Hero picked up the taser, looked at it with curiosity, and switched it on. With a smile – a very worrying smile - he got closer.

“Hey, I warned you. I told you that Vampire Hero was going to rescue me.”

Vampire Hero is a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

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the-golden-ghost · 4 years

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Dracula: A Comprehensive Summary

Part 1 (I wrote the whole thing out and it was too long, so I’m gonna do it in parts.)

This is so that @necromancy-savant can participate in that sweet, sweet Classroom Discussion and Get An A

Also because I was super bored HERE WE GO:

Chapter 1:

Here we meet the guy who you’d think would be our hero but isn’t, Jonathan Harker. He is a good soul. Really likes his fiancee, Mina.

He is traveling to Transylvania to meet his new client, a gentleman known as Count Dracula.

As he’s going there he talks about the food too much and describes the scenery a lot. But what’s this? The locals constantly make the Anti-Evil Sign at him whenever he mentions his destination? Rumors abound of a warlock, demon or other spooky spook living in Dracula’s castle?

But that’s surely all superstitious nonsense, says Jon. Those silly locals. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also wolves exist outside the castle and some of them chase Jon’s carriage so surely this is going to be a good trip.

(Also just a note on how the book is written; it’s done in like a collage format, with different parts being done as different people’s journals, or sometimes as memos, letters, or news articles. The first bit is Jon’s travel diary, and then later in the book the narrator will switch like crazy, sometimes multiple times per chapter. It’s a weird style so I thought I’d point that out.)

Chapter 2:

Now it’s time to meet our villain, Count Dracula!

Dracula is this weird old dude with wild hair and a monobrow and protruding fangs and hairy... palms. Yeah really. Jon thinks he’s just the Ugliest Shit but he doesn’t say anything, cause he’s very polite.

Dracula basically is a nice host and leaves Jon all alone at a table to eat like an entire roast chicken by himself. Because he doesn’t eat dinner. Ooooh spooky

Also he likes wolves. He has a bunch of pet wolves. Why? We Just Don’t Know

Anyway the next day (or night, rather, since all of Drac’s meetings take place at night ooooh spooky) Dracula invites Jon to a business discussion in which they talk about real estate. Because heck

I guess Jon like sells real estate in London. Booyah

And then Dracula goes off on this long creepy tangent about nobility and his bloodline and loosely implies that he’s hundreds of years old.

Oh and he also really likes dead bodies cause that’s not weird

Then he ditches Jon again and Jon goes to shave in his bathroom, only for Dracula to show up for some reason. At which point Jon sees that Dracula does not show a reflection in the shaving mirror! Egad!

Panic ensues, Dracula gets pissed and tosses the mirror out the window, Jon cuts himself with the razor in the event, Drac sees blood and wigs out and briefly strangles Jon before he accidentally touches a crucifix that Jon conveniently had on his neck, which turns him Normal again. And then he just scolds Jon for having such an evil, wicked bad device as a mirror and leaves.

Jon is like “what the fuck how am I supposed to shave without my mirror though :/ “

The next day Jon’s like “all right fuck this shit I’m out” and realizes that - oh dear - he is Locked In.

Chapter 3:

I mean, he can wander around the castle but all the doors are locked.

The next day night Drac and Jon have a long talk about Transylvanian History. It’s boring.

Although Dracula does let it slip that he intends to keep Jon For All Eternity “for at least a month :) “

Jon’s like “ah FUCK no”

And Drac also lays down some Rules like “Don’t Write Letters Telling People How I Live” and “Don’t Wander Around the Castle At Night”

Jon’s like “whatever bro” and goes back to his room where he spots Dracula pulling some Spiderman bullshit along the side of the castle wall.

Like, crawling along the side “like a lizard”

Jon’s like “all right fuck this noise” and decides to break the Don’t Wander Around the Castle At Night rule.

He breaks into a locked room which is Clearly A Great Idea and wakes up - to no one’s shock except Jon’s - in moral peril.

Basically Dracula’s three wives live in that room and Boy Are They Hungry.

They attempt to eat Jon except Dracula shows up and tells them all to fuck off so they just retreat and eat a baby that they were carrying around in a bag? I guess?

Chapter 4:

Jon wakes up and everything seems normal. Or Is It?

It isn’t. Drac starts making him write Fake Letters home so that he can make it look like Jon vanished on the road home. Oh dear.

Jon begins trying to Escape. It fails miserably.

He also watches Dracula feed some lady to his pet wolves and realizes that He’s Next.

He eventually manages to spot Dracula in his coffin (in the daytime) Nopes the fuck out of there, and goes back to his room which is at this point the only place he feels safe. Ish.

He decides the next that he’s going to find Dracula’s Creepy Coffin and go and steal his key while he’s sleeping. (A+ Plan but he doesn’t really have a lot of options so)

He does this except he gets caught and proceeds to beat Dracula up with a shovel

He doesn’t find the key either. He just plans to Escape By Any Cost and also to rob Dracula while he’s at it because he feels like he’s entitled to financial compensation for putting up with this bullshit lol

AAAAND that’s the end of Jon! No, really. It just ends on a big ol’ cliffhanger and we make a jump to London to meet the rest of the cast. Eventually we find out what happened to poor Jonny, but.... it isn’t good. And that is why Jon is Not Our Hero! He’s not dead though don’t worry

Chapter 5:

Time to meet the Rest of the Squad!

Mina Murray (eventually, Harker) is our Fearless Heroine. She’s kind, she’s brave, she’s loyal, and she has All The Rationale and Reason of a Man (because nothing like good ol’ fashioned Sexism veiled as compliments!) She’s engaged to Jon.

Lucy Westenra is Mina’s Bestest Buddy and is also a good soul. She’s more of a Society girl. Engaged to a lord and stuff. She also doesn’t have a Man’s Brain :(

Lucy and Mina discuss their love lives through letters back and forth. Mina is waiting for news of Jon, Lucy, meanwhile, had proposals from THREE men!

Who are also significant characters so here we go

Lord Arthur Godalming is the man Lucy actually loves and decides to marry. He’s... I dunno. Pretty boring as a character tbh but he’s there a lot so I’ll mention him.

John Seward (yeah Stoker decided to have two guys with almost the same first name, gj, although Seward mostly goes by Seward and Jon goes by Jonathan) is a doctor at a local asylum. Which isn’t creepy. He likes to Study his patients I guess. I say “patients” loosely cause he only has one and Hoo Boy Are You Going To Hear About That One.

Quincy P. Morris is a cowboy. Yes. A cowboy, straight out of Texas. Why did we need to have a vampire-slaying cowboy? No reason, we just did, AND WE’RE GONNA LIKE IT.

Also Quincy, Arthur and Seward were like college friends or something idk

Moving on

Chapter 6:

Mina goes down to the dock and talks to a weird old man about superstitions of dead people coming to life. Fun times. She’s also trying to figure out where her fiance is :(

Seward actually does some doctor business to take his mind off the fact that Lucy rejected him. He adopts R. M. Renfield (the R. M. doesn’t stand for anything as far as we know) as a patient because he’s the most Interesting of all the lunatics.

And he confesses to pushing him to act more insane because he finds him interesting to study? Seward is a terrible doctor fyi

So Renfield is ah... fun. He keeps pets! Specifically, flies.

Seward says “no flies in your room :/ “ And Renfield promises to get rid of the flies.

So Renfield gets rid of the flies by using them to lure spiders so he can have New Pets!

Seward The Buzzkill says no spiders either

So Renfield just starts fucking eating the spiders AND the flies because He Can’t Have Nice Things. Also he wants to absorb their life

And then Renfield catches a sparrow! And tames it and keeps it as his friend and pet. How the fuck did he get a sparrow in his room? Uh

And then he gets a whole BUNCH of sparrows and any idiot could tell you this is going downhill but Seward is simply too Curious, you see

Anyway Renfield tries to get a kitten

Seward does not give Renfield a kitten

Anyway as it turns out Renfield fucking ate all his pet birds and Seward is like “aha! This is a victory for psychology! I have discovered a new form of lunatic!” and it’s like bro you already knew he was eating the flies, you dork

So Renfield never gets a kitten. :(

#Dracula #part 2 incoming

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feenyreadscomics · 5 years

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Team Red visits area 51

So, this is my first attempt at writing a true team Red fanfic. Anyways, for context, all three have worked together before, but Peter dosent know who DD is (just that he's a lawyer) and DD only knows that Peter is in high school. Both DD and Peter know who Deadpool is. Deadpool doesn't know who Spiderman is, but knows who DD is. Slight change to what's in Area 51. First, theres what's actually in area 51 (spoilers, not saying here) but the meme of this universe is that's where the cryptids are (vampires, zombies, werewolves, etc.) Also, the group invading Area 51 features some inserts, because at least some people need to show up to raid Area 51. Gwenpool shows up and uses her powers, so it gets a bit meta, since for Gwenpool it is a super powers thing, not a mental illness thing. All glory to @morepopcornplease ,@smokeyloki @supesofherown for willing to be my area 51 squad

Matt was tired.

There were robots everywhere. Robots on the ceiling, on the floor, just...robots. They were difficult to track, and, more importantly, difficult to punch. Matt's knuckles bled. The suit helped, but not enough.

When did Hell's Kitchen get so wild? Matt wondered. Then suddenly, Matt's world blurred and flipped. He was hanging upside down by his ankle.

"Hey, Double D! Hope you don't mind me bringing in some reinforcements!"

Ah. Spiderman. And oh look. (Or not.) Deadpool. Daredevil gagged. The stench of decay was...distinctive.

Matt started tugging at the webbing around his ankle. It wouldn't unstick. Maybe he should start weilding swords. That way, he could cut himself free and escape while he had a chance.

Maybe he could get Elekra to show him how to use knives.

Deadpool jumped past him, dualweilding katanas. "Eyyyyy! Horn head joined the party!" Matt grumbled under his breath.

Deadpool and Spiderman fought side by side, Spiderman webbing down robots, and Deadpool either shooting or stabbing them. Meanwhile, Matt gnawed at his ankle. Eventually the flow of robots stopped. Deadpool cut Daredevil down.

Deadpool and Spiderman looked around, and fist bumped. Matt coughed loudly.

"I had it under control."

"Because that-" Deadpool gestured around them "-was in control."

"Could have taken care of it."

Deadpool walked over and placed his hands on Matt's shoulders. Matt wrinkled his nose. "Red, you were punching bare metal. With your fists. Let me see them." Deadpool went to grab Matt's hands. Matt pulled them away. Deadpool forcibly grabbed Matt's hands and took off his gloves.

"See? Perfectly fine."

"Ah yes, bloody knuckles are perfectly fine. Now, Webhead has a special mission he wants to invite you on. After that, you're gonna go home to your boy and he's gonna kiss your boo boos better."

"He's not my boy."

"He could be."

"He's married, I'm Catholic and I'm not interested."

"Suurree." Deadpool dropped Matt's hands. "If you are looking for someone else, you know where to find me." Deadpool wiggled his eyebrows, which caused his mask to shift a bit. Matt punched Deadpool. Deadpool laughed.

"See ya hornhead." Deadpool walked off.

"Catholic?" Spidey asked.

"Yep."

"Hmm, ironic considering..." Spiderman gestured to Matt, "...everything."

"Yeah. Ya got a question?:

"Oh yeah, wanna go to area 51 with me and Deadpool?"

"Spidey, I have a buisness to run. No."

"Oh come on! You should."

"Why?"

"Do it for the alien tech. Do it for the meme. Do it because we don't know what the government is hiding in there." Spiderman paused for dramatic effect. "We need to know if vampires really exist. You can't keep that stuff from people."

"No, and you're going to get arrested for it." Matt sighed. "Listen, if you're going to go, can I at least give you this?" Matt pulled a buisness card out of his suit, and handed it over to Spidey.

"Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law?" Spiderman raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I have them on speed dial in case I get arrested. Call them if you need legal help."

"Got it."

Matt tumbled into Foggy's apartment. Foggy materialized from his bedroom, bleary eyed.

"Here for checkup." Matt smiled.

"Good. I'll bring you some clean clothes. What bandages do you need? Do we need to call the Night Nurse?" Matt and Foggy had this check up system in place so they wouldn't have to bother her with minor wounds and Foggy could sleep soundly, such as twisted ankles and jammed fingers.

"Nope. Knuckles just need bandaging."

"Good. Though it says something about our lives that you are hurt at all, and I'm saying its fine."

"I know, Fogs." Foggy started applying rubbing alchohol to Matt's knuckles. Matt hissed a bit. "I miss the old days. When there were fewer heroes running around." Matt paused.

"Not when we didn't need spandex clad idiots?"

Matt snorted and thought about it for a bit. "Nah. I guess we always needed them."

"What did the idiots do this time?"

"They want to raid area 51."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope."

"They really are complete dumbasses. Utter morons." Foggy paused. "They'll be out of town for it, right?"

"Yeah..."

"You know where they live, right?"

"Just Wade."

"You could prank him."

"Hmmm... would you help?"

"If you can make sure he doesn't murder me." Foggy finished bandaging Matt's hands. "You're good to go. Do you need a change of clothes?"

"Yeah."

Foggy retrieved some sweatpants and a tshirt. He also got a paper bag out.

"Okay, I got a change of clothes, and a paper bag."

"Thanks, Foggy. You're the best."

"Text or call me when you're home safe."

"Will do."

Peter was out in the New Mexico desert, and it was nice. Warm. New York was cold. Peter was cold in New York. All the time.

DD thought it was because something with the Spider bite giving him a few cold blooded drawbacks. Wade thought it was because Peter was too skinny.

Which was because the bite fucked up his metabolism, he supposed.

But for now Peter was in the desert, and warm. It was pleasant.

For five seconds, more or less. He heard chatting, and decided to follow it.

He found a group of four people camped out in the desert, discussing strategies for getting into Area 51. They were all some degree of sunburned, sharing water bottles, and arguing about if they could expect anyone else to show up. Peter waved at them.

"Hello!" One of them responded.

"Oh, hey Spidey!" One of them yelled. She waved him over.

"Glad you could join us."

"We have a chance now!" One of them pumped her fist.

"Smokey, are these your reinforcements?"

"Hi, so, you're obviously Spiderman, I'm V, and this is Smokey," V, apparently, gestured to someone wearing a fedora, apparently Smokey, "Supes," V pointed to a woman in a Superman tshirt, "and Popcorn!" V gestured to a woman wearing a tank top that had "The only iron I pump is the IRON WILL OF GOD" on it.

"Popcorn?"

"She ate all the popcorn!" Smokey complained. Peter tilted his head.

"Smokey did most of the planning, including rations." Supes commented.

"Okay... I should be having a friend meet me here soon!"

"Awesome! Is he in the raid?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. We should talk strategy, while we wait for him to get here..."

So they figured that Deadpool would charge into Area 51 as a distraction. Once the guards left to fight him, the group of four would try to scale the fence. While the fence scaling was going on, Spidey would crawl through the drainage pipe to grab whatever paranormal stuff he could find. Leading an army, Spiderman would free the rest of them, allowing them to return home safely.

When Deadpool finally showed up, he laughed at their faces.

"Spidey, you're smarter than this. This isnt gonna work. Besides, I'm expecting one other person. She will help you out. A lot."

"Hello!" A loud, high pitched voice yelled from behind them.

Deadpool and Spiderman turned to see the pinkest person they had ever set eyes on.

Peter had thought Wade was crazy. Wade had thought Wade was crazy.

This was nothing compared to Gwen Poole. She was pink and energy, and mostly talked nonsense. Something about this all being fanfiction, and a disappointing lack of panels. Also, according to her, one of the four "self inserts" was "the author."

Wade thought he could keep up, but no. Whatever the fuck voices were in his head paled in comparison to whatever Gwen had.

Like, Deadpool occasionally thought he was in a comic, but she seemed to be able to do something about it. Dead silent explosions because "I caught the otomotapeia," inexplicable escapes...

Cuz if there's real weird shit in there, she can handle it.

As is though, she kept calling one of the people "the author" and it was making his own head spin. That's... not normally how this went. But she'd be going with the four civilians in. She'd be able to keep them alive.

And so it begins.

The plan started to fall apart immediately.

Deadpool was doing fine, Spiderman was doing fine.

Gwen and V were in a heated arguement.

"What do you mean, you didn't write any scenes inside area 51?"

"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about! Besides, don't you have powers? Can't you do something about it?"

"Not in a fanfic! Not in normal literature! The format matters. I can manipulate comic panels, not THIS SHITSHOW."

"Uh, guys? I think the Feds are here." Popcorn piped up.

"Hands up!" A man yelled. They all slowly put their hands up.

Deadpool made it in. He found a cat named Goose in a cage. He picked it up and continued running through the halls.

He ran into Spiderman. Literally. They both shouted.

"Glad to see you're alive! Do you know where Gwen's squad went?"

"Yeah, I saw them getting arrested just before making it in. And look! I found a cat!" Wade proudly held the cat up to Peter. Voices shouted from behind them.

"WADE! WE NEED TO GET THEM!"

Oh. Right.

"So, any ideas?"

"Stop!" A voice called out behind Deadpool.

The duo ran through the halls, left and right, trying to lose the gaurds. Spidetman opened a door they found, a supply closet. Spiderman opened the cage, and sat the cat on Wade's lap. Spiderman threw the cage down the hall.

"What the fuck was that for?" Deadpool furiously whispered.

"Distraction," Spiderman whispered back.

The guards immediately opened the supply closet. The cat hissed. Then, he opened his mouth. Wide.

Tentacles shot out from the cat's mouth, wrapping around the guard. He let out a shriek, cut short by Goose swallowing him whole.

Deadpool and Spiderman looked at the cat, eyes wide.

"I like you," Deadpool declared, firmly.

The other five were in a metal truck.

"Do you have any way out?" Smokey asked.

"No. We're gonna be tried for treason." Supes commented.

"If only the others could get us out of here." V added.

"Wait. That's it."

"What do you mean, that's it?"

"I can get out of here. You wrote something just now of Spidey and Deadpool back at Area 51. I can go there now, let them know where we are, which is in a metal truck, headed to... damn. Don't know definitively, but it's a shot. Just give me a moment..." Gwen pushed on something, and floated up into the ceiling.

"Well, this just got worse," Smokey commented.

"Hey guys!"

Wade screamed.

"Woah, Gwen, how'd you get here?" Spidey sounded shocked.

"The writer mentioned you in Area 51, so I could come over to visit, through some medium manipulation. "

"Great job, Pinky. Now, where's everyone else? And do you know what the fuck is going on with this cat?" Wade held out Goose.

"No idea. The writer didn't bother informing the audience of their exact location, and two, the cat is a flergen. Now, let me think." Gwen started pacing around the supply closet, muttering to herself.

"Hmmmm.... wait a minute.... I got it!" Gwen shrieked and snapped her fingers. "Ma- DD, gave you a buisness card for himself. Give it to me, and I'll bring it to them, and they'll be able to call him to lawyer them out." Gwen held out her hand. "Gimme." Reluctantly, Spiderman handed it over. "Thanks, Webhead!" Gwen pushed upwards again. Then, she was gone.

Thud!

Gwen fell back into the truck, then grabbed for something.

"Soooooo, what's the plan?" Popcorn asked.

"Sit tight and get Matt Murdock to lawyer us out. He's a crack lawyer, and considering this is fanfic, I imagine he'll be great at it."

"M'Kay." Popcorn said, rolling her eyes.

Matt Murdock was a bit busy at the moment. He was busy saran wrapping Wade's pillows. Foggy was trying to cram a rubber duck into a shampoo bottle. Well, Wade's shampoo. Foggy didn't get why the guy had it (Wade was bald) but he figured he'd ask no questions. Just prank.

Matt's phone rang. An unknown number. He picked up.

"Hello! This is Matthew Murdock. Who is this?"

"Hello, this is Gwen Poole, friend of Spiderman, in need of legal counsel. Would you be able to help?"

"Where are you? Is Spiderman or Deadpool with you?"

"No. I'm with four other civilians. We are in New Mexico."

"Shit. I can't exactly make it over there."

"Shit."

Foggy yelped in surprise, then cheered. "Got it in!"

Gwen thought for a bit. "What if we book an airline for you to get here."

Matt thought about it. "That could work."

The next morning, Foggy drove Matt to the airport, grumbling the whole way.

"They're idiots, Matt, you shouldn't have to save them." Matt began staring (as best he could) at his hands.

"Its a Catholic guilt thing, isn't it?" Foggy sighed. "Fine, go be a lawyer hero while I singlehandedly keep the firm running. It's a good thing I'm the brains of Nelson and Murdock, while you're the beauty."

"I'm not the brawn of Nelson and Murdock?"

"No, that's Karen." Matt cracked a smile.

Foggy pulled up to the curb. "Keep me posted. Let me know when you're coming back and how it goes."

"I will." Matt got out of the car, and grabbed his suitcase.

He waved as Foggy drove away. Deep breaths, Murdock. You can navigate an airport and plane, he thought. Matt entered the airport.

A few hours later, Matt landed in New Mexico, where he couldn't get off the plane fast enough, then took a taxi to where they were being held.

He raised hell. He got everyone (except for Gwen) released that night. New Mexico state troopers had never seen the fury of a Matt Murdock scorned.

Apparently, since everyone was in the middle of the desert, and needed supplies, the threat of death by dehydration was enough to get them all off. Gwen, however, was stuck back in prison, because she was armed, and various other crimes due to being the leader of MODOK. As far as anyone could follow.

Everyone then boarded a plane back to New York.

"Did this just happen?" V asked. "This feels crazy.

"It it really is," Smokey agreed.

Something in the overhead compartment shifted. The stewardess opened it, and Gwen jumped out.

"Thank you!" She said to the stewardess. "Man, that was cramped. Good to be out in the light of day!"

Wade Wilson was looking forward to a relaxing night at home, after the craziness of the past few days. He had Goose tucked in his one arm. He opened his apartment. Little rubber ducks were everywhere. Over the counters, on the bookshelves. He opened the fridge. There was a rubber duck.

Goose meowed, then tentacled the duck.

"That's cannibalism, Goose." Wade put down Goose, then went to nap. His cheek hit saran wrap.

"Fuck you, Murdock!" Wade yelled.

Thanks for reading! I tried to have Gwen's powers make sense, but it's...difficult.

#area 51 #matt murdock #wade wilson #peter parker #daredevil #deadpool #spiderman #team red #fanfiction #fanfic #original content #and some character inserts #hope i didnt ruin anyone's character #oh yeah #gwenpool #gwen poole

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takaraphoenix · 5 years

Note

“Luck? Nope. Skills.” - “If it’s skill then do it again.” ColdFlashWave. Thanks. ❤

Advent Calendar: Day 2

“Either you’re cheating or you’re insanely lucky”, accused Nate with a glare.

“Luck? Nope. Skills”, declared Snart smoothly, smirking.

“If it’s skill then do it again”, demanded Zari and gathered the cards together again.

Jax huffed and leaned back on his chair, watching Snart count his winnings. From across the room, he could feel Grey’s eyes on him, giving him a pointed look – what was he doing playing poker against not one but two criminals. And Stein had a point there. Playing poker with Snart and Rory was never a good idea. The thing was, for the past couple of days, it had been intensely dull and boring on the Wave Rider, so it was either playing poker with Snart, Rory, Nate and Zari, or watching Sara and Amaya spar and risking being forced to join them, or listen to Grey and Ray nerd-babble two tables over. He was honestly looking forward to the holidays at this point.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to go to the Queens’ holiday party?”, asked Nate curiously.

Jax shrugged. “Grey invited me along to go celebrate with his family. And I gotta gather some extra points as favorite uncle with Ronnie already, don’t I? Besides… that party sounds like a mess.”

“Why? Just because the big wedding you guys went to attend turned into a total disaster featuring Nazis from an alternate reality?”, drawled Zari. “I mean, that was an unforgettable wedding.”

Everyone at the table grunted at the memory of the fatal failure of the first attempt at a wedding between Oliver and Felicity. It had been supposed to be a grand beautiful event, but got kind of hijacked by the Nazis. Definitely unforgettable though.

“You will not be a bad influence on my grandson, Jefferson”, called Martin out pointedly.

“Wha—at? Never, Grey”, called Jax back with a broad grin.

“And let’s not forget the part where touching down in 2017 is going to mean having to watch Mick and Len make out with Barry”, tagged Nate on and made a face.

“It’s like a rite of passage to walk in on them having sex at least once”, offered Jax to Zari.

Zari raised both her eyebrows and shrugged at that. She had a pretty good grasp on what she would be walking in on considering she had read Mick’s polyamorous erotica novel and she figured he drew a lot from his own life and relationship with Snart and Allen. Her eyes found the two former – well, mostly former – criminals who had kept uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation.

/break\

Sara was sitting with Len in the library, supposedly researching. The two had grown to become an odd pair of friends ever since joining the Legends. After Snart had sacrificed himself to save them and they only barely managed to rescue him, the two had grown even closer. He had died, technically, but timey-wimey mumbo-jumbo had led to them bringing him back nonetheless because his conscience had still been around, haunting Mick. At first, Mick had thought he was going insane, but that was by far not the case. It took them some time to figure out a way to actually grow Snart a new body with Gideon – but hey, she made full limbs, she could do this – and move his consciousness into it. At the end of the day, both of them had died and come back.

“Do you ever regret joining the Legends?”, asked Sara curiously.

“Mh? I don’t think me and Mick would have returned to the Wave Rider after the disbandment if we would regret joining, don’t you think?”, countered Leonard.

“You rejoined the crew again because you two were going crazy in Aruba, mourning Barry. But they managed to free him from the Time Prison”, pointed Sara out. “If he had never been in there and you two would have gotten to return to him, heroes and saviors in your own right, redeemed from the deeds of your past… would you have truly left him again?”

“You’re not the type to get lost in what ifs”, mused Len thoughtfully. “I can’t attest for potential pasts, Sara. He’s safe and alive now and he has his own calling. Here, we get leeway. We’re not heroes. We will never be. In Central City? Have you met the Wests? They’re a bunch of goodie-two-shoes. One false step and the Detective will be willing to throw us back into jail. The really scary one in that family is and always will be Barry’s sister though.”

“Iris?”, asked Sara confused. “Why? She seems… very harmless.”

“But fiercely protective of her brother”, countered Len and grimaced. “If she thought me and Mick were still criminal enough to lead to a heartbreak for her brother then she would most likely tear us apart all on her own. No. That entire team? Too many goodie-two-shoes for us to be comfortable.”

“Your boyfriend is a goodie-two-shoes”, argued Sara amused.

“Yes, but he vibrates in bed”, replied Len with a dirty grin. “And does entirely different things in bed too. For him, the whole innocent puppy-dog eyes is quite… charming. And redeemable.”

Sara snorted and shook her head in amusement. She shouldn’t have asked.

/break\

Mick had been polishing his gun for the past two hours. And it was not a euphemism. Amaya and Zari exchanged a look over their breakfast. Mick was humming. In lack of a better word, one would describe him as happy. Which was wildly concerning, really. The last time he had looked that happy, they had just heard the news of vampires in Victorian London.

“Hey, buddy. You looking forward to seeing Barry again?”, asked Ray with a carefree smile as he entered the kitchen and sat down opposite Mick. “Got a Christmas present for him?”

“Yes”, replied Mick with what could only be described as an unholy smile.

“Oh, wha-”, started Ray interested.

“No”, interrupted Amaya rather firmly. “No need to spoil the surprise.”

“But… it’s not like it’s for me… so it’s not a surprise”, frowned Ray confused.

“But you’ll babble it on”, countered Amaya pointedly, though the real reason was a different one.

Mick’s grin widened even more. Still humming, he got up to return to his and Lenny’s cabin. Today was the day. They were going to the Queens’ party and they would get to spend time with Barry again. It had been far too long since they last got to be with their speedster.

“You’re in a good mood, Mick”, observed Leonard when Mick entered their room.

“Mh. Can’t wait to see Scarlet in our present”, grinned Mick.

Leonard huffed at that though the grin on his lips matched Mick’s. “Christmas is all about unwrapping presents after all, isn’t it?”

/break\

“Merry Chris—Woah, okay. Stand down, boys.”

Barry was staring wide-eyed, lifting his hands up in the air as both the Cold Gun and the Heat Gun were trained on his head suddenly. As soon as Lenny and Mick realized who had just broken into their room and woken them up, they dropped their weapons.

“Scarlet, how often have I told you not to sneak up on us?”, growled Mick annoyed.

“I wanted to surprise you”, huffed Barry with a pout, crossing his arms.

“You… couldn’t wait to see us, mh?”, asked Leonard knowingly, a smirk on his lisp.

Barry’s cheeks turned red to match his suit as he averted his eyes. “I mean, it’s… Christmas. And after waking up, I had to watch Joe and Cecille be all sweet and in love.”

“Ah, future stepmom”, teased Leonard amused. “She seemed impressive, during the Nazi-fight.”

“She is impressive”, grunted Barry softly. “I really like her, I like how happy she makes Joe.”

“So seeing your old man be all lovey-dovey made you wanna be lovey-dovey too”, accused Mick.

The grin on his lips matched Lenny’s as the arsonist reached out to wrap an arm around Barry’s waist and pull him down onto the bed. Barry yelped a little as he collapsed against Mick’s chest. Mick smiled pleased and tucked the speedster beneath his chin.

“How long do you think we have?”, asked Barry as he snuggled up to Mick.

“Don’t know. Don’t care”, grumbled Mick.

“Sara said something about landing early to drop off the professor and Jax”, offered Leonard as he laid down behind Barry, gently kissing the back of his neck. “So I’m positive we have some more time. You know how long Nathaniel takes to get ready in the morning.”

“Hair too”, grunted Mick pointedly.

“Yes, Raymond too”, agreed Leonard with a laugh.

“I live with Iris and Cecille. I know about having to wait my turn for the bathroom”, huffed Barry.

“You do know you’re old enough to get your own place, right?”, teased Leonard amused.

He trailed kisses along Barry’s shoulders, while Barry cuddled up to Mick some more. The large man was perfect for cuddling, warm and soft and comfortable. Barry sighed contently as Len spooned him from behind. With a very pleased smile on his lips did Leonard lean over to properly kiss Mick good morning too. It was downright endearing how pleased Mick looked, with their third tucked against his chest like that. Though Leonard couldn’t deny that he too was happy to have Barry back with them. What Sara had said, it rang true. If they hadn’t believed Barry to be locked away forever, they might have thought twice about leaving Central City.

“Have you missed us, Scarlet?”, asked Leonard teasingly.

“Obviously”, grumbled Barry pointedly. “Joe’s been… kind of frustrated ever since Wally left.”

“Why’d your brother leave?”, asked Mick confused.

Both Mick and Leonard had spoken with the kid before, worked with him. He was amusing.

“Too many speedsters around”, offered Barry with a sigh. “Got tired of being in my shadow, I guess. Being Kid Flash on Team Flash… Yeah, I get it.”

“Mh, and is your brother going to join us for Christmas?”, wondered Leonard.

“I have no idea. He’s barely been in contact with us since he left”, sighed Barry, pulling Lenny closer against himself. “I hope? But… your sister is going to join us for Christmas.”

Leonard raised his eyebrows curiously at that and exchanged a look with Mick. “She is?”

“You’re going to have so much fun with that”, chuckled Barry teasingly.

“Scarlet, what are you keeping from me?”, asked Leonard, nipping Barry’s neck.

Barry laughed and swatted at him. “Cisco and Lisa got back together a little while ago.”

“Mh. We get to threaten the pipsqueak some more”, grumbled Mick very pleased.

Leonard raised both of his eyebrows. “Now how did that happen?”

“After you… died, she started… coming around occasionally. Guess she was a bit… lost. And after you came back from the dead, well…”, shrugged Barry. “Turns out while you two were in Aruba and Wally was posing as me, apparently… they asked for her help and the Golden Glider became Miss Midas, a young upcoming hero.”

“How have I not heard of this before?”, grunted Leonard pointedly.

“It’s not like you drop by with a lot of social calls”, muttered Barry.

“We’re literally saving all of history, Scarlet”, defended Mick gruffly.

Barry laughed softly and leaned up to peck first Mick on the lips and then Leonard. “You can get all caught up on the party. But for now, you’re all mine.”

Read this here on FFNet & here on AO3

#coldflashwave #leonard snart #barry allen #mick rory #legends of tomorrow #fanfiction #phoe's advent calendar project #phoe's tumblr drabbles #nix-daughterofmagic

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multsicorn · 7 years

Text

fic: how do you make it for real (zimbits, 2/5)

for @queersherlockian, the first chapter of my much-belated@fandomtrumpshateaction fic. This chapter is ~5k words, rated g, but there’s much more, and porn, to come. also here on ao3.

Jack Zimmermann’s an adjunct history professor at Samwell University. Bitty works at Annie’s, at the start of what’s now his second year after graduation.

They’ve started to become friends hanging out at the coffee shop, and, in this chapter, they attend a Halloween party.

Jack rings the doorbell to Bitty's friend's apartment, feeling foolish. He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt with matching cat ears. The tail the costume came with is hanging off-center from a belt loop on his back; the paint that marks nose and whiskers on his face still feels greasy, but if he scrubbed it off, Jack suspects, he'd look even more ridiculous, half in costume and half out of it.

He wipes his palms on his jeans. He thinks that maybe he should've worn a different costume. But he couldn't imagine himself, when he was standing in the Halloween aisle of the drugstore, as a storybook hero, whether prince or pirate - never mind the questionable nature of the notions of heroism involved in either of those narratives. And he didn't want to imagine himself, though he could, as one of the undead Halloween horde, ghost or zombie or vampire. A cat might be a boring choice but it's still an acceptable Halloween costume.

A girl finally opens the door. He doesn't have to or can't run away. Her dress is both shinier and more revealing than anything Jack could imagine wearing, but he follows her in without a word, and then she's gone. He never even gathered the wits to say "Hello."

This party looks just like every other party he's ever been to, back in the Q. More people are in costumes: big cardboard boxes, onesies with animal heads, more than a few guys in ill-fitting girls' clothes that they clearly didn't even try to make look good. Even tonight, though, most people are dressed more or less like normal, tight jeans and shirts and short dresses, just decorated for the occasion with little horns or a halo or bunny ears.

It's a crowd of people, that's the thing that overwhelms him. He doesn't mind the stained green couch that he sees from the corner of his eye that looks like it was rescued from one of the more permissive sets of billet parents' basements. It's just that it's impossible to see who's present, or who's talking to whom, and more impossible yet to hear from any distance what anyone might be saying. And there's a beer can or two or a red plastic cup full of alcohol, Jack sees, in just about everyone's hand. That's the worst thing.

It's not true - not, technically, strictly, true - that he doesn't know what to do at a party. He did know, once upon a time. He'd thought, he'd believed that he'd figured it out, that pills and alcohol were tools he could use to craft a solution…

Jack feels as if from a great distance his breath spreeding up. Like he's running from something, like he's racing to escape the situation, though he's standing still, barely shaking, and also, he can't run. There's nowhere to run to, nowhere to get away…

That's the panic talking, he tells himself. Stop.

Think. That's what his therapist told him. You can leave if you want. When you feel like you can't leave a situation, that's your brain lying to you. It's your life, you're in control of it.

And you don't have to leave right then. You can stop and think. What, exactly, are you afraid of?

What is he afraid of? Not rejection, not ridicule. He doesn't care that much about those things, even if they were likely to happen here, which they're not. It's mostly not knowing what to do.

Okay, so he'll make a plan.

First, he'll find Lardo or Bitty. He can talk to them: he knows that he can, and he knows that they're here, because Bitty invited both him and Lardo. So. That's a battle plan. Great. Time to put it into action.

"Jack!" Bitty crashes into him with no warning in something in between a hug and a full body slam. He's flushed, and probably more than a little drunk. Jack's reluctant to let go of him again.

"Knew you'd make it, bro," Lardo says. She appears out of the crowd, right behind Bitty. "This guy kept saying you'd punk out on us, but I had faith."

"Thanks," Jack says. "Bitty! What are you wearing?" He can see, of course, that Bitty's wearing a black leotard. It's glittery, with one long sleeve, and Bitty's taller than usual because he's in feels, but since what Jack really wants to ask him is 'why' and even more importantly 'how did you get the nerve,' it takes him a second to realize that he should've asked 'who are you' instead.

"You don't recognize this outfit?" Bitty says. "I'm offended on behalf of all of America and Canada for your cultural ignorance."

"It's the Single Ladies video," Lardo explains, sotto voce.

"And you single-handedly put back the relationship between our countries by, like, twenty years."

"To… nineteen ninety-eight?" Jack asks. "What happened then?"

"He's Beyonce, and you'd better know who that is."

"No, I'm not Bey." Bitty turns to Lardo, apparently having given up on Jack for the time being. "I wouldn't do that. And, besides," he flashes his hand in front of his face, turning it quickly from palm to back to palm. "See? No glove? I'm just one of her backup dancers. And, hey, Jack, how about Lardo's costume?"

"I did work all night on it."

Jack looks. She's a steampunk robo-cat: metal crankshafts appear to articulate her feline limbs, and gears fill out the interstices. It's amazing, objectively, even if he's more interested in the velvet arches that frame the tops of Bitty's thighs.

"It's amazing," he says. "Kinda makes me wish I hadn't been a black cat, though."

He'd been shooting for a joking tone, but evidently he doesn't quite make it, because Lardo says, sympathetically, "Nah, you're cool, bro. We're costume twins."

"Triplets!" Bitty says. "Cause, I'm wearing a black cat… suit, right?"

"Ha," Jack says.

Lardo holds up a fist for Bitty to bump, approvingly, and then, before they can drop them, Jack holds up his fist and bumps both of theirs too.

"Anyways, good to see you guys, but I've gotta bounce. Later, Jack-o-Lantern, Bitsyonce," Lardo says, and she disappears with a nod.

"You can have some mercy this time," Bitty calls after her.

"What?" Jack asks.

Bitty shrugs. "Lardo is unbelievably, out of this world good at party games. Beer pong, pool, cornhole, you name it. It's like alcohol makes her coordination better instead of worse. So," Bitty's attention snaps back to Jack, back from where it'd been wandering out into the center of the room. "Where are you going?"

"Well," Jack hedges. "I had been hoping that I could stay right here."

Bitty laughs. "Nice. Charming." Jack doesn't laugh in the pause Bitty leaves. "But, seriously. Isn't talking to people the whole point of a party? I know it can be scary, none of us start out confident, but you just have to fake it until you make it."

Bitty doesn't seem to be faking anything, Jack thinks. But maybe he's just better at it.

"I'm not afraid," Jack syas, regardless of the fact that he might sound like he protests too much. "I just don't know how to fake it. What do I say? Who do I talk to?"

"Well, you talk to me all the time."

"… Well," Jack says. "Mostly, you talk to me."

Bitty scrunches up his forehead, confused, considering. "Was that a joke?"

"Maybe," Jack says.

"Then you, my friend, are golden." Bitty puts his hand on Jack's shoulder, which is a shot of not-caring that's better than any drink. "As for who to talk to," Bitty continues, "Do you see that tall guy in glasses over there?" Jack follows Bitty's pointing finger. The indicated guy in the plastic laurel-leaf crown is about the only face that he can see, over the sea of bobbing heads that fills the room. "That's my friend Holster. He's one of the hosts, he and Ransom - I'm not sure where he is. And he's super easy to talk to, I promise." Jack's doubt must be showing, because Bitty presses on," C'mon, I introduced you to Lardo. Have I steered you wrong yet?"

"No," Jack agrees, still doubtfully. Bitty's hand is back on his shoulder again, and this time it's pushing him to go away, so - Jack squares both of his shoulders. He knows he does have a choice about this, but he doesn't want to disappoint Bitty. "I'm going in." Which doesn't make sense, probably, which must be why he hears Bitty laugh behind him. Except for how it totally does. Jack weaves and genty pushes his way through the room like it's a minefield, like his fellow partygoers are the mines and it's his job to establish a beachhead. He doesn't think about where he's going because he doesn't know what he's going to do when he gets there.

Only this is a shitty college party in a shitty just-off-campus apartment, which means that far too quickly Jack's crossed the room, and has reached what's supposed to be his destination. Bitty's friend Holster leans casually against the wall, red solo cup in hand, dressed in - apparently, only - a sheet draped in a highly inaccurate and suggestive attempt at imitating a toga.

Next to him is a Leafs poster, for which Jack is briefly wildly and inappropriately grateful. Hockey is still one of the two or three things that he does know how to talk about.

"Are you a Leafs fan?" Jack asks.

"Nope," Holster says, coming alive with a start. "This is my best friend's poster. The Sabres one down there - " he indicates it with a nod - "is mine."

"Oh. Okay. I was going to say, sorry about your team."

"Ransom!" Holster yells. "Get over here! Someone's shit talking your team!"

A tall dark-skinned guy appears from down the hallway that Jack and Holster had been talking near. "Great," he says, "I love shit talking my team."

"I didn't mean it like that," Jack protests. "They're not that bad right now. They've been doing better. They got into playoffs the last what, two, three years in a row?"

"Three," Ransom says. "Yeah, okay. But their defense still sucks."

"Seriously," Holster says. "So much."

"They've got a few good goal-scorers," Jack argues.

"Sure," Ransom agrees. "But when the puck's on their ice, they're like a sieve."

"Fucking useless," Holster agrees, and the two of them share a low high-five.

"Well," Jack says. "I don't see either of you out there. It's easy to criticize when you know you won't have to try to do any better."

"And that's why I didn't try to endter the Draft after Juniors," Holster says, meeting Jack stare for stare.

"My family never would've let me skip college," Ransom says. He slings an arm around Holster's shoulders, and pulls him closer. "But the two of us were the top D-pairing at our college for three years running."

"And we're still not NHL caliber," Holster continues. "And we know that. So, yeah, I do think it's fair for us to criticize the people who are up there. That's part of what they signed up for."

Jack takes several deep breaths in succession. This conversation isn't about him, his therapist would say. And when he doesn't want to say any of the things that come to his mind, remember that saying nothing is, in fact, a legitimate option. It's not necessarily a failure. And he doesn't have to stick around if he really doesn't want.

Ransom and Holster both drink from their cups. Jack wishes his hands weren't empty.

"So," Holster says. "How did you hear about this fine party?"

"Bitty." Who's right now, Jack sees, staring intently up and laughing at some random dude, the long lines of his legs and neck all leaning in like a plant to sunshine. The other guy looks like Jack used to look. More muscle, less obvious fat.

"You having a good time?" Ransom laughs, maybe at Jack's staring, and Jack makes himself stop.

"You, definitely," Jack says, though he'd bet it's obvious that he's not. "It's a nice party."

"Bud," Holster says. "You are holding neither a drink or a girl on your arm."

"Now a guy," Ransom says. "Bitty always reminds us about that, remember."

"Nor anyone of any gender," Holster continues. "So I would say that means you're clearly not having enough fun."

"So, bro," Ransom says. "Lay it on us. What do you like?"

"Cuz between the two of us, we know something about everyone here tonight. Help us out with this, and we'll help you."

"I…" Jack says, and there he gets stuck, brain stalling out, wheels spinning in place. A foot to his left there's a picture of a dog drinking coffee taped up on the wall. It's surrounded by flames, but the thought bubble says "this is fine." Jack feels sympathy with that dog.

"C'mon," Holster says, "don't be shy," like he's doing it on purpose.

"If you want something else," Ransom says, though his sky-high eyebrows show he clearly can't imagine why that would be the case, people are doing something creative with all the liquor in the kitchen, and some tiny Asian chick's dominating the beer pong championship down the hall." Ransom hooks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which he'd come, and Jack, much to his surprise, considers it. Beer pong does involve beer, but… he wouldn't be drinking it to get drunk. And he'd be limited by the game. And it's not like he's never had a beer or two in the decade or so since he used to go to parties like this all the time.

"Thanks," he says, plotting out his escape route, when he's arrested by a hand on his arm.

"Jack!" Bitty says. Jack just about faints from relief at seeing him there. "How are ya doing?"

"Good," Jack says. He can't help making the face that means 'two huge D-men are bearing down on me and I can keep going for a few more seconds but get open for me please by then.'

"But can I steal you?" Bitty asks.

"Yes," Jack says, emphatically. He looks to Holster and Ransom to check with them - it's good manners, or something - but they shrug and nod like they couldn't care less.

"So, come on," Bitty says. He grabs Jack by the hand, which surely can't be the first time? But Jack thinks that it is. He wishes his palms weren't sweaty right now. Meanwhile, Bitty's saying, "This idiot, I forget his name, Chad something-or-other, was insulting my pies, and I need you to back me up. It's ridiculous, really, because he says he doesn't even bake, but he also said that anyone could bake if they wanted to, and so he's qualified to judge me without even a taste? I don't think so. So then of course I said I had a huge fan of the pies here with me tonight, and if he'd just wait for me to get back…." Bitty stops so abruptly that Jack bumps into him.

"Sorry," Jack mumbles, reflexively.

"I guess he didn't wait," Bitty says, looking around the room. "No, I'm sorry. It looks like I interrupted you for nothing, after all."

"It's alright," Jack says. "I bet this guy left just now so he wouldn't have to admit he was wrong."

"Or he didn't wanna go two-on-one," Bitty says. "Which means, I gotta say, if you're not gonna back it up, don't start shit. So! How'd you like Ransom and Holster?"

"Fine?"

"So does that mean you're ready for more introductions?" Bitty's not looking at Jack anymore; he's already scanning the room.

"Please, don't," Jack says. "Make me go back out there."

"Make you?" Bitty looks startled. "I'd never - I wasn't trying! To?"

"Sure," Jack says. He's shifting from one foot to the other and he wonders if his cat tail fell off. He's all too aware of the ears sitting askew in his hair, and he can't even talk to Bitty, not in a foolproof way, cause he is such a fool, not without messing up. Maybe he really shouldn't have come.

"So," Bitty says. He shuffles closer, so Jack will be able to hear him over the noise. "Did I ever tell you about my first college party?"

"No," Jack says. It'd be the only answer even if Bitty had told him a million times.

"Well," Bitty says. "I was a freshman. Of course, since it was the first one." He takes a drink from the plastic cup Jack hadn't noticed he'd been holding all this time. "Ransom and Holster were there, too, okay. And we were all on the hockey team at the time." Bitty waves a hand up and down his body, illustratively, and Jack, who hadn't been thinking about his costume for quite some time, watches it maybe a little too closely. "Surprising, right? But I was a good player. Well - anyway - the point is, yeah. I got the first point in the first game of the season, so my teammates said I had to do a kegstand. Now, at the time, I was inexperienced in the ways of alcohol." Whereas currently Bitty's getting ever drunker, and leaning ever closer to Jack, like a geological time-lapse film of the Tower of Pisa. "And I was literally shaking in my shorts. They were little cute red ones, and I didn't fill 'em out too well, yet, then, so I put my hands under my knees, while I was wainting, and I could feel it in my legs. I was literally shaking."

"What happened then?" Jack asks. He's into the image Bitty's painting, honestly.

"Well, the kegstand was fine. Or did you mean the party? Cause - whoa. That was the first time I ever hooked up with a guy, that night, and let me tell you - "

"Yes?" Jack says.

"Athletic boys - " Bitty says -

And then there's a loud crashing sound from somewhere outside the apartment. Suddenly they're blanketed in darkness. Jack can't see anything - not his own hands, not the walls, not Bitty's face. He wonders if he'll panic, again. But he doesn't seem to be.

"What the fuck," Bitty says. Jack's pretty sure that hadn't been what he'd been going to say next.

"I think the power just went out."

"Yes, thank you. I noticed. Captain Obvious."

Jack winces, but it's true. "So… should we evacuate, do you think?"

"Why?" Bitty asks.

"Well - if there's no power. There's no light, there's not going to be heat…"

"My phone still works," Bitty says. A second later Jack sees again a heavily shadowed image of Bitty's face, lit by the glow of the phone he's holding in his hands. He notices, then, the various fuzzy patches of light scattered around the room, a couple more of which appear and one of which disappears while he watches. Other people are doing the same thing, of course.

Jack spends a few seconds creepily staring at Bitty's face before eventually saying, "Well. That's good, then." The light from Bitty's phone goes back out. And the amorphous roar of discussion that Jack had been hearing in the background of his brain the whole time was, he also noticed, giving way to an escalating sound of yelling from the direction of the kitchen. "Do you think maybe we should go and see what's going on? With all the noise?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Bitty says. "Probably."

When they make their way into the kitchen, which is surprisingly easy given the lack of light and the aimless milling of the people in the room even when the light was on, Jack sees, by the lights of many phones, a whole bunch of liquor bottles set out on the table. The sound that he'd heard from the other room resolves itself into comprehensible words - or, comprehensible, at least, for a relative sense of the word.

"Alcohol burns great," they hear Ransom saying. "Do you know what's the most important part of every kids' chemistry kit? It's an alcohol lamp."

"So should we pour a little bit of vodka into each of these empty beer bottles?" Holster's already lining them up on the edge of the table.

"I'll look for something to make wicks with," volunteers a gangly ginger boy with ears that stick out to the sides.

"This sounds like such a bad idea," Jack murmurs to Bitty.

"Or you could not," says another guy - who Jack thinks might be Derek from Annie's - facing off from a distance of two inches or so against the previous guy who'd spoken. "Hey, C, other C. Back me up here."

"Says you," Bitty replies to Jack. "I think it's exciting."

"I don't know what to say," a new voice says, and - Jack's pretty sure, this time, that he recognizes Chris Chow. Is everyone Jack's met at Samwell here tonight? "I think you both make good points."

"He literally didn't make a point," the ginger guy grouses.

A tall girl with stringy brown hair who's holding Chris's hand speaks over him. "I think it's just a waste of good booze," she says, and that seems to be the signal for the rest of the people in the room to chime in on one side or the other, or both or none, until the air's full of noise and disagreement and Jack can't make out what any individual person is saying again. He can't stand it, or any chance of the crazily dangerous scheme proposed winning, either, and he shoulders his way past a couple people to make it to where the original speakers were.

"CAN WE NOT START A FIRE," he says, in the most loudly projecting of the voices he'd once developed for talking over people during a hockey game, and everyone in the room shushes, and as far as he can see, turns to look at him. "Sorry for yelling. But, guys, a blackout is an emergency. And the number one thing that makes them more dangerous is the fires that start when things fall, and short out, and so on. We don't need to add to that." The confidence in Jack's voice recedes as he talks, and the general murmur starts back up again.

Then there's a brief commotion at the entrance to the room, and Lardo appears, at the head of a small group of girls, all carrying glow sticks. "Is someone talking about setting a fire in here?" she says.

"We weren't gonna set the room on fire," Holster objects.

"Yeah. Of course not. Just some bottles," Ransom agrees, and they high-five, again. A beer bottle that had been sitting on the very corner of the table between them is knocked to the ground, and shatters.

A girl in a fox onesie who'd been holding onto Lardo's arm lets go of it and steps up, waving a bunch of glowsticks energetically over her head, semaphore fashion. She proclaims, loudly, "LISTEN. NO ONE SET ANY FIRES. DID YOU SEE THE BEER BOTTLE THAT YOU JUST KNOCKED OVER? WHAT DO YOU THINK WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF IT WERE BURNING?"

"Who is that girl?" Ransom whispers to Holster. "i'm sure I'd remember if I'd met her before."

"I don't know either," Holster says. "But I've gotta admit that she's right. And she has an impressively carrying voice, too. I bet you she'd make an amazing Elphaba."

"So, my bro, best friend of mine," Ransom says to Holster. "What shall we do? How can we rescue the free-falling reputation of our latest party from fizzling back to epic?"

"That is the question," Holster muses, stroking his chin in a display of thought. "This is almost a unique opportunity. There's got to be some way to take advantage of it."

"Maybe," Jack says, talking over them, "we should go outside and see if anyone else has started a fire." Because this apartment probably doesn't contain all the idiots in the building, he thinks but doesn't say.

"Should we all go?" someone asks from the crowd. Chris. He's raising his hand, even.

"There's no need to," Bitty says. He steps out from the crowd to stand at Jack's elbow, once again. He's lit by the light of several other phones, and he doesn't even seem to have his out. "We all have phones. I'll just call Ransom or Holster if we see anything out there that you guys should know about."

"You're coming with me?" Jack says. He's surprised but pleased.

"Well, of course. I don't want you to get lost without me." Jack could protest, but the Bitty's smile takes the incipient sting out of his words - and it makes him feel warm, too. So he just smiles back.

"So," Ransom's saying behind them. "If we'd known we were throwing a party in the dark, we would've got glow paint, of course."

"Can we play it like Seven Minutes of Heaven?" Holster wonders aloud. "Like, we're all locked somewhere in the dark, it's like a huge closet. Except we don't want to lock people in, of course."

As Jack and Bitty go down the stairs together sounds drift out to them from the building's other apartments. Indistinct loud voices, and music that someone must be running off batteries. There's nothing out of place, nothing alarming. And no one else on the stairs, either. Jack keeps looking back over his shoulder to make sure that Bitty is still following, which he is every time.

And when they've reached the bottom, and crossed the small lobby, past the tile walls and the mailboxes, and opened the door to the outside, Bitty pressing so close behind Jack that Jack could swear that he feels his breath, his warmth, his aura, or something - they're both viciously attacked by the rain. It lashes freezing down out of the sky, as Jack and Bitty let the door swing shut behind them and try in vain to huddle into the shelter of what would be the building's shadow. There's no overhang to protect them: it's a solid block of brick. The rain stings Jack's face and his hands sharply as it's driven against him - against both of them - and he would have tried to plan something to combat it if he hadn't forgotten about it. Forgotten why they had to come out here in the first place.

"My car's not far," Bitty yells, almost in Jack's ear, over the sound of the wind beating the rain against the trees. "Is yours closer?"

Jack shakes his head. Water splatters unpleasantly into his ears, and probably onto Bitty. "I just jogged over."

"Okay, then. Let's run for it," Bitty says, and they do.

Even when they're both safely ensconced in the front two seats of Bitty's nondescript and mildly beat-up looking silver sedan, Jack can't seem to stop shivering. He can hear Bitty's teeth chattering, too, from a good three or four feet away. The rain that his clothes had kept at bay at first is soaking through them bit by bit, now, penetrating to and further chilling his skin.

"It's so cold," Bitty says, curled up into a kind of ridiculously appealing egg-looking shape. "So cold, brrr, freezing, so cold."

"I wish I had a cloak," Jack says. "So I could put it around you."

"Or, if I had a jacket, I could give it to you," Bitty says. Even in its absence Jack flushes warm simply from imagining it. "But I don't wanna turn on the heat and fog up the windows when we're supposed to be looking through them. Maybe just for a little bit, though, it wouldn't hurt? What do you think?"

"Sure," Jack says. The engine purrs, the air dries out between them, and they both begin to shiver slightly less.

"So," Jack says, when he's finally closwer to 'damp' than 'wet,' and Bitty's just humming tunelessly under his breath. "Can you believe what those guys almost did?" He can't get over it himself. Sure, groups of boys make dumb collective decisions, they're the opposite of risk-avoidant, but - to be that dumb? Maybe, he's forced to admit, if he thinks about it. It's really not a surprise.

"I know," Bitty says. His knees are still drawn up almost to his chin, and his arms are wrapped around his doubled-up bare legs. "It's a good thing you were there to stop them." Bitty's looking up, now, at Jack, the same way he was looking up earlier at the other guy at the party.

Jack couldn't have remembered right then that he didn't stop anybody from anything if you'd paid him a million dollars. Not that he needs a million dollars. "What do you think they're doing in there right now?" he asks. Bitty unfolds in his direction just a little bit more. He puts his legs down from the seat sideways, so that they're right by the gearshift, and leans his chin on the palm of his open hand.

"I have no idea. But I guess we'll see it if there's anything too exciting?"

"And from a safe distance," Jack adds. Bitty makes a horrified squeaking sound. "What? You're the one who said, too exciting!"

"Oh my gosh," Bitty says, but he sounds delighted. "How could you say that."

Jack preens under the words that feel like praise. And then, because he's been starting to suspect it, in the last few minutes, and he'd like to know, he asks, "Are you flirting with me?"

"Why, Mr. Zimmermann!" Bitty says. He leans back in his seat, hand to his heart, while Jack notices absently that he feels almost entirely dry by now, and so Bitty must too. Bitty's making a theatrically shocked expression. Which isn't an answer, either. "How could you say such a thing!" Which, Jack guesses, is probably a 'no.' He thinks.

"Now," Bitty says, "it looks like my friends and their friends haven't managed to blow themselves up yet. Or burn anything down. I'd say we're probably safe, so, how much longer do you think we need to stay out here for?"

"Are you getting bored?" Jack asks. "Because you can go, if you want."

"I'm nowhere near bored," Bitty says. His eyes are as wide and dark as the night sky stretching out around them. Still. Jack's horrible at reading at people. "I was just saying. Don't you want to go back in?"

"Not really," Jack says. His clothes are getting clammy, and his tail's wedged uncomfortably under his ass, and he's wearing cat ears in his hair for no reason at all anymore, but, all in all, he'd rather be here in Bitty's car with Bitty even than back home alone by himself, much less than a loud and unpredictable party full of strangers and drink. "You can tell me more stories right here."

"Are you gonna tell me stories, too?"

"If you want to," Jack promises. He doesn't know what stories to tell, but maybe Bitty will help him with that, too.

"I do," Bitty confirms. His smile is as sweet as his pie. "So, where was I? Let me see," and then Jack misses the start of the story he'd asked for, because a sudden change in the picture out of corner of his eye catches his attention. They'd forgotten to watch the building in all their watching each other, and now a flame has appeared, flickering orange against the dark black night, in one of the upper floor windows.

"Bitty," Jack says, urgently. "Look. There's a fire." He fumbles for his phone in the uncooperative wet denim of his pocket while Bitty wakes up the phone that's already in his hand.

"I'm calling Ransom," Bitty says, scrolling frantically through and stabbing at the screen, "You call 911, okay" - and Bitty holds his phone up to his ear, while Jack dials with figners that don't feel like his own.

"There's a fire," he says, voice sounding distant and echoey, "at - fuck. Bitty. What's the address?" Bitty gives it to him, quickly, and Jack repeats it just as quickly as he can into the phone, as he sees the doors to the building open up through the rain-spattered windows of Bitty's car and people come spilling out of it. Bitty's saying something into his phone, now, as the operator tells Jack, voice discordantly even and pleasant and mild, that the trucks have already been dispatched to their location. He's not the first person to have reported it, but thank you for calling, and Jack hits the call end button in the middle of a sentence and sinks back, shaking, into his seat in relief.

"Ransom and Holster are staying at my place tonight," Bitty says, and in a little more than a minute they're all packed into Bitty's car, and Bitty's asking Jack for his address to drop him off at. He stares at the rain through the windows, but in the end it's only the fact that Bitty needs to bring Ransom and Holster home with him that stops Jack from inviting Bitty to come up to his place instead. Not for any particular reason, but just because the night doesn't feel like it's quite completely over.

It is, though. Jack opens the door to his apartment alone in another minute, accompanied only by the rain on his clothes and the smell of smoke that he has the feeling will never come off.

#a: my fic #zimbits #omgcheckplease #i seem to be getting well into ch. 3 already so *crosses fingers!*

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