#but no this motherfucker had damn near perfect memory

[deadsetobsessions]

This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.

——

Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.

He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.

To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.

Or to Jason’s grave, at least.

Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.

——

Batman’s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.

“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”

Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!

“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.

Not that dumb!

Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.

Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!

“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.

“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.

“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.

“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.

“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.

“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.

….

Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.

——

“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.

It did not reply.

——

The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?

Reinforcements were called in.

Meaning, Batgirl.

“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”

“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.

“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”

“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”

Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.

“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.

“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.

That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.

“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.

“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”

“What?”

Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.

“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.

——

“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.

“Hey, wait-”

“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.

When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.

“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”

“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.

“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.

“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”

Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”

Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.

“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”

Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.

“Fix it.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.

“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”

Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.

“Robin, get down from there!”

“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.

Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.

“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”

“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.

Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.

——

“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”

Dick patted the headstone.

“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”

#y’all is the Romani language spelled Romany #idk if im reading that wrong but did you know the Vlad dialect is the most widespread? #nightwing #dick grayson robin #dick grayson #dick grayson’s gaslight gatekeeper girl boss moment #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Batman and the trials of parenthood #google what to do when your vigilante child seems to have forgotten that he’s a vigilante #Batman using the magic Justice League like a wiki how #minors angst disguised as crack #also my favorite thing to write is brice and dick coping by talking to graves #but not actually talking to the grave’s owner who is actually alive #dick gets better about it #Bruce? not really #English is the fucking worst #Jason Todd #jason Todd’s grave

[bonnieisaway]

A really good detail in Scissor Seven that I think not only is really good for world building but also gives the viewer a bit of a hint as to when shit is going down is the way they introduce other assassins, targets, or people trying to kill Seven.

Honest to Christ, can anyone tell me the names of the underpants guy or the bdsm grandma woman. The answer is probably not. I don't think they even have official names but they've been reoccurring characters in the background since season 1. And I think it's really cool they don't have names that are really talked about! Chicken Island is not that small and I think it's a good detail that while Seven knows a lot of people, he doesn't know them all well but regardless they fill his daily life and he cares for them just as much for their mere presence alone. But also in the episodes where they were targets, it's a good detail that they're hardly really named, it's just like, "my son" or "that guy over there" because in the grander scheme of things they pose no threat and they're just some fucking guy.

But on the flip side of this: there is damn near a whole catalogue of characters who were introduced by a name or title and got like, ten seconds of screen time! The entire time Seven is getting chased:

I mean, none of these five say a fucking word and never are talked about again! But they all have such detailed and gorgeous designs and unique and powerful fighting styles that are distinctively theirs. Not a single other character wields the weapon Wusheng does, Single Blade is just fucking cool and I cannot believe they designed and made such a stellar fucking fighting style for a two minute long chase scene, Li Hua is just fucking gorgeous and I love the way she cooperates with the others, and we never see them again! But it's also such a good detail that we don't! We don't need to! Obviously, anyone with a weapon that Seven passes in this point of time is going to pose a danger to him. But for the viewer, there's a significant difference than going "Oh fuck, who's this guy?" and going "OH FUCK, BEHEADING WUSHENG??????" It takes it a step further to illustrate them as these powerful and terrifying threats, and it doesn't even list their rankings on the list, cause what does that fucking matter? Look at them! They're fucking terrifying! I am going to instantly assume a motherfucker named Nightcrawler is fairly high on the list!!

And it's such a good, stark contrast from the other characters I mentioned who were arguably about as powerful or outsmarted Seven at the time but they were justifiably just some fuckin guy that wasn't meant to be intimidating at first sight because it was meant to be a shock and a little funny they overpowered him. And even after they did overpower him they were still just some dude who's there and that's so cool and it's not only such good worldbuilding and detail but it blends the difference between what being powerful meant on Chicken Island and for the current Seven and what being powerful means in Xuanwu and for who Seven used to be. I mean, look at these fucking five! These are five out of every damn killer in the nation chasing him! Imagine what the fuck else is there!

And this dude is such a perfect balance between the two as well - I mean, he's still arguably a threat, but he's unnamed and his outfit isn't as flashy as the others, but he still holds this significance and weight the others didn't because he had a memory of Seven he described. He's still obviously terrified and not that powerful, yet a threat and important!! I just!! It is so cool the way they introduce characters and present them to us!! Aaaaaa!!!

#scissor seven #killer seven #wu liuqi #seven #scissor 7 #cike wu liuqi #this also goes for ichiro and normal assassin #theyre a bit in the category of the white haired dude who approaches seven #but obviously have more weight and depth to them given they both live on chicken island now and we got solid looks into both of them #i am procrastinating #this show is so fucking good

[guanana]

My request was like *both adults* yuta broke up with his gf an then he dated and married his ex's mother so now yuta is like her step dad 💀 cuz ik the interaction would be juicy 👀

request 04 ♡ nkmy x reader

alternatively titled: motherFUCKER!

( part 2 )

genre: stepdad(ish)!yuta x reader, drabble (this is damn near a oneshot) smut, f x m, angst

word count: 7.9k+

smut warnings: penetrative sex, footsies lol, yuta is mean, mc is mean, they’re both fucking assholes tbh, marking, degradation, hair pulling, manhandling

other warnings: infidelity, yuta is very manipulative, absent parental figures, mentions of neglect, taboo love (age gap between mc’s mom & yuta), please do not read if you are uncomfortable with this trope

────── 〔✿〕──────

“You should really come to visit some time. It’s been over a year, dear.”

“I know, ma. I just–”

“I understand that you aren’t fond of him, but I promise you he’s a good man.

“I never said that I wasn’t fond of him.”

“Then why don’t you visit? Please, I miss my baby girl so much. I feel like we barely even speak over the phone anymore.”

“I…”

“Please? For me?”

“...okay, I’ll fly over within the next month or so. I’ll look at ticket prices later.”

“Oh, good! Good. I’m so happy. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Right. I’ll email you the details when I get the chance.”

“Perfect. I’ll leave you alone now, but keep in touch okay? I love you, my baby girl.”

“Love you too, ma.”

——

If it were up to you, you would have never stepped one foot into this god forsaken town ever again. Your grip is tight against the strap of your carry-on bag as you walk out of the terminal. Too many memories plaguing your mind as you look out at the glass panes.

In any other setting you’d be in awe at how beautiful the sun shines over the landscape of your hometown— but that’s just it, you’re in your hometown. The looming danger that you’re about to face completely obstructs any admiration you have for the bright yellow that compliments the summer day. Frowning at yourself for your pessimism, no matter how justified you feel in the matter.

Walking down the moving sidewalk alleviates just a smidge of your worries, always making it a point as a child to prance along the belt with your mother hand in hand. Even if it meant seeing him again, it was undeniable that you thought of your mother often. You love her, you really do.

Even if she unknowingly made your life a living hell.

Realizing that you have a signal again, you immediately pull out your phone to contact your mom. Only to be met with a notification as soon as you turn the device back on.

ma: Hi baby girl! I hope you had a safe flight. ❤️

I got called into work again. I’m sorry but I won’t be able to pick you up.

Dread courses throughout your veins as you scroll through the messages. That doomed feeling making its way into your chest once again—

But I asked Yuta if he could and he was more than happy to. He should be there right when you land. See you soon xx

Stopping in the middle of the walkway, you scratch a stressed hand through your hair. Just the sight of that name causing your stomach to pit. All plans of delaying having to see him for as long as possible sinking down the drain. Who were you kidding? There was no way you could’ve avoided him for this whole trip.

“Gotta be fucking kidding me,” You mutter under your breath. People pass you by with a glare when you refuse to find a better place to stand. None of that matters though, trying to find an escape route so you don’t have to see that son of a bitch. Visions of him rendering you frozen in the midst of the airport, deciding that the best course of action is to get an uber.

Springing to action, your eyes dart to the signs to locate your baggage claim. You need to book it as soon as possible. Heels sinking into the carpeted floors with every step like quicksand, you go as fast as your legs can take you. Seeing your designated baggage claim that’s already making its rounds your tunnel vision narrows in.

It’s an obnoxious floral luggage, you could never miss it. Your eyes dart around the belt as you circle around the device to locate it, passing others reluctantly with small ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorries.’

And soon, you do find it– but it’s no longer at the belt.

The handle is pulled out, and you already know who’s leaning against it before even properly taking a look at him. You don’t want to. You don’t want to look him in the eye, but he’s never been anything if not absolutely captivating.

“Hey.”

It’s as if the years had come to a stop, as if it hasn’t even been a day since he had cut all ties. You couldn’t blame him, it was your fault things had turned sour. A most amicable break up, agreeing to leave all memories behind in favor of growing as people. Yet no matter how much you think you know someone, no matter how much you love them— they’ll still stab you right in the back.

When you take in his appearance; it feels like he’s still the same man who would give you the world at the drop of a pin. The most stark difference is that his hair has gotten longer, tied half up while the bottoms fall just a little above his shoulders. Still adorning the same rugged fashion style and endearing smile that you would often compare to an old man. He looks like the man whose arms you would run into to inhale the scent of cedarwood.

Not the man who decided to get back at you by fucking your mom, capturing her vulnerable heart and using her as a ploy to ruin you and your sanity.

No matter, the past is the past. You try to steel yourself by bracing your stance and releasing a deep exhale, locking eyes with your old flame for the first time in three years. “Hi, Yuta,” You try to greet him as civilly as possible, but the forced grit in your voice is unmistakable. Walking towards him to take your luggage from his hold, you nod in thanks when you try to take the luggage handle into your own hands.

Yet his hand immediately clasps on top of yours, almost wrapping around your smaller one entirely. A deadpan stare meets yours, looking you up and down. He’s assessing you, taking in all of the physical changes that had taken course over the years. Suddenly causing you to feel self conscious, envious of how he seems to have not aged a single day. Yet here you are donning eye bags and crow’s feet from the lack of sleep. That wide line of a smile takes over his features, and he squeezes against your hand before letting go.

“It’s nice to see you,” He lulls, and you feel dizzy from the way he towers over you. In every aspect it always seemed like he was looking down at you, and this moment wasn’t any different. Snatching your luggage from you, he ignores your squeaked protests before motioning his head towards the exit. The wheels of the luggage scraping against the floor as if you’re doing a walk of shame to your own personal hell. “My car’s out in the garage, let’s go.”

When the two of you were dating, he’d always make it a point to walk slower to keep up with your shorter legs. His long and slender ones came with a vast step that could easily overlap yours, but he was always so accommodating. He would hold your hand and make sure you were walking on the side that was farthest from the sidewalk. Yuta was always attentive, knowing that the most minute of details mattered more than any unnecessary show of affection.

So that’s why it hurts even more when you have to walk as fast as possible just to remain behind him, when he doesn’t look back to make sure you’re still there. Only bothering to acknowledge your presence when he makes it a point to open the trunk of his car– a fancy new sports mobile that he’d often admire whenever the two of you would pass the dealership. Throwing your luggage haphazardly in the trunk before taking in your shocked expression, a quirk of his knowing eyebrow making you bite your lip in anxiety.

Flinging the driver’s seat open, he chuckles at your frozen state. “Coming?” He jingles the car keys in your face before you’re brought out of your trance, and you swear that Yuta’s face might get a cramp from how far that grin keeps growing. Especially when you opt to occupy the back rather than take his side in the passenger’s seat.

When the ignition rumbles the car to life, you realize that he’s making it a point to make your next few days an absolute living hell. Shifting the gear stick into reverse, he looks behind him before backing out. His sleeves are pushed up to the elbow, and a veiny forearm is right in front of your face when he balances himself when he hits the ignition.

“You have a rear view camera,” You point out blankly. “You don’t have to do all of that.”

Yuta nods in response, wholeheartedly agreeing with you. “I guess it was just an excuse to look at you,” He shrugs. “Had to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me— you got prettier.”

Your eyes only meet for a second before you decide to look elsewhere, before it lands on the hand that rests against the head of the back of the passenger’s seat, heart dropping when you see the promise ring that encapsulates his beautiful ring finger. Grabbing at the fabric of your dress to keep yourself from breaking into tears right on the spot, convincing yourself that you’re much too strong for this.

The car is shifted into drive before he takes off, satisfied with every second of your anguish. Wondering how much more he can break you, if he can bring you even lower than you had brought him that day.

[ “Am I not good enough for you?!” He screams, taking his anger out on the vase by swiping it off of its stand like a petulant child. Wincing at the sound of clay crashing heavily onto the ground, you flinch away as he grabs at his hair. “Everything I do for you, no matter how hard I try– it, it’s never fucking enough for you!”

“You’re perfect, Yuta,” You say through teary eyes. Words are weightless though, if the way you back away slowly means anything. “I love you so much, but it’s not the right time yet.”

“When will it be the right time then?” He’s on the verge of tears himself, a mesh of pain and frustration as he tries to calm himself down. “When will you stop hiding me from everyone? It’s like you’re ashamed of me.” ]

“How’s life been?” He asks you, looking at you with curiosity through the rear view mirror.

Chewing at the meat of your cheek you decide it’s best to answer him, not wanting to make the weekend any harder than it already has to be. “It’s been fine,” You keep it short.

“The new job?”

“Fine,” You twiddle your thumbs, not exactly fond of this interrogation. “Stressful, but that’s life.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” He chuckles, index finger tapping against the steering wheel when he reaches a red light. “Boyfriend?”

“None of your fucking business,” You bite back with a swiftness, almost an uncharacteristic switch into defense. “It isn’t?” He hums. “Shouldn’t I be improving my relationship with my stepdaughter? Making sure that the man that enters her life knows how to take care of her?”

Nakamoto Yuta is many things: obnoxious, insufferable, borderline sadistic, and above all else–

Vengeful.

When he finds you dumbfounded and lacking a response, he laughs loudly before slapping his hand against the steering wheel like the comedian he thinks that he is. Wiping a fake tear as his stomach crunches at how hard he’s cackling at you. When the light turns green, he speeds off before taking one last glance into the mirror.

“I missed that face. Always so cute and dumb,” He groans in glee, tonguing his cheek at the way you shrink into yourself. “Let’s get along well, okay angel?”

——

“My baby,” Your mother immediately runs into your arms upon seeing you at the door. Hugging you so closely, you feel your worries washing away for just a few seconds. “You look beautiful!” She says before peppering your face with smooches, the first genuine smile appearing on your face since you’ve arrived.

Only to have the sweet moment shattered when Yuta trails behind you with your luggage in hand, a firm pat and squeeze on your shoulder before giving your mom a kiss on the cheek right in front of you. “She definitely takes after you,” He bats his eyelashes at her. Bile collecting in your throat from disgust, he glances at you before walking behind your mom. An index finger coming up and a small ‘shh’ making its way past his lips.

“You’re too much, sweetie,” Your mom gushes, her cheeks warming at the indirect praise. Giving him a sincere hug, his arms snaking around her waist— never letting you leave his field of vision. “You two must be tired. I’ll get dinner started, yeah? I won’t be long.”

You give her a tight nod, heading up to your old bedroom to seek sanctuary and unpack your things. It’s unfair, you feel like a stranger in what was once your own home. Memories of your family when your dad was still around dug away in exchange for a contemporary style home that lacked any authenticity. Several photos of you having been replaced with ones of your mom and Yuta, of their several trips that they’ve already traversed in their seemingly short time together.

It sickens you.

But when you arrive to your room, you sigh in relief. Your mom had the courtesy to at least keep your room completely intact. Everything the same as you had left it all those years ago.

[ “Why do you have to go so far away? There’s plenty of jobs for you out here,” Your mom protests, your acceptance letter crumpled in her hand.

“Because I can’t live under the same roof as your boyfriend, ma,” You don’t look at her when you shove everything you can fit into your luggage. “I can tolerate you being with him because I can at least avoid him, but for him to live here? Absolutely not.”

“Why do you hate him so much?!” She pleads.

“I don’t hate him.”

“Is it because you miss your dad? You know that I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. But Yuta— he’s different. He’s good to me!”

You couldn’t take it out on her. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know, and you could never take her happiness away, even if it meant removing yourself from the equation. As much as it hurts you, you decide it’s better to tell half of the truth.

“I can’t live in this house knowing that a man who is only a few years older than me is dating my mother, I’m sorry.” ]

You lay in your bed reminiscing that night you left. Knowing you had taken a part of your mom’s heart as you took your car and fled to your new life without so much as a day’s notice. Bursting past Yuta with a shove to his shoulder, the way he was moving in while you were leaving was a huge slap to the fact.

It would always be a losing game against him, so it was better to quit while you were ahead.

“I never would’ve thought you’d be the type to have a pink room,” A voice invades the premises of your room, causing you to jump as Yuta swings your door open to enter. “Hot pink, too?”

“Have you heard of knocking?” You sit up before grasping at your chest, breathing heavily to pace yourself.

“Dinner’s ready,” He shrugs, hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants that frames his legs a little bit too nicely for your liking. “Your mom told me to come get you. Something about ‘getting you to warm up to me.’ Crazy, right?” He says, a look of faux curiosity on his face. “Anyways, come down.”

He doesn’t wait for you, taking his sweet time down the stairs to meet your mother at the dining table. A sneer at your lip when you meet them to see him shamelessly grab at her waist, a smirk playing at his lip when he catches you glaring from his peripheral. She’s giggling shyly when Yuta soothes circles into her waist, still not used to such affection even after years of being seemingly spoiled by the younger man.

Whether it was out of pettiness or cowardice, you never did ask or try to find out why he did what he did. If he really loved your mom– accepting the fact that he made her exponentially happier than your neglectful father ever was. Always sneaking behind her back to sleep with other women under the guise that he was out for ‘business.’ You hate yourself for it– prioritizing your mom’s smile over your own well being. Fearing how much it would tear her apart if you hit her with the knowledge that Yuta was once yours. How she was probably nothing more than a pawn in his sick game.

“Oh, baby!” Your mother’s face flushes red when she catches you in her vision, pushing Yuta away lightly to protect her modesty. Smoothing out her apron before trying to compose herself, flustered to the point that she’s comparable to a high school girl. She motions to the table with a nervous smile on her face. “I made your favorite! Come now, you must be hungry.”

Softening at her thoughtfulness, you thank her kindly before sitting down. Ignoring Yuta sitting across from you when you take in the scent and display of your favorite meal. It was the closest you’ve felt to home, your mom always making it a point to prepare for it whenever the situation called for it: an aced test, a failed test, days where you felt hopeless, days where you felt joy beyond words.

She really was none the wiser. Still loving you unconditionally, making sure to put you first.

“It’s been a while since I’ve made this, so I’m just a little rusty," She says when Yuta reaches around to pull out her chair for her to sit, cheesily grinning at him when she settles down. Grazing your hand slowly, her eyes are pleading. “I hope it’s still good.”

You immediately shoot her down, in disbelief that she could ever talk down her cooking like that. “No way!” You scold her, her shoulders immediately release in relief. "I don’t know a better cook than you.” “Me neither,” Yuta chimes in, to which you glare at him immediately. The discreet shade at the meals you cooked for him before is more than apparent.

She takes a sip of her chardonnay bashfully, her skin just a few shades away from the red liquid in her glass. “You guys are just saying that. Especially you, Yuta. Bet you’ve met way better cooks, considering how much you travel.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that,” He leans into her. “Sure, maybe things can taste better,” He says, her eyes widening as her eyes dart to you. Your eyebrows quickly settle into a furrow, trying to distract yourself with your meal as his hand trails up her thigh. Agitated with the audacity as he sits where your father had sat ages ago. “But I don’t think I’ve met anyone with more technique or experience than you.”

You cough at the comment, hot food lodging in your throat. Ripping them out of their little moment together, you feel a mixture of emotions at Yuta. Frustration, disgust, and as much as you hate to admit it, envy. The way he smooths her hair down and she falls into the touch is reminiscent of how he used to do the same to you. The way he looks at her, absolutely identical to the look he gave you.

Dawning at you that he may actually love her.

“I’m still here, you know,” You wheeze after your coughing fit is over. Your mom removes her attention from her lover when her hand trails down your back to ease you.

“Sorry about that,” Yuta snides, a tone laced with so much saccharine that your mom could never catch the underlying malice. “It’s a bit too easy getting lost in your mom’s eyes,” He sighs dreamily before planting a kiss on her temple, causing you to gag.

Your mom apologizes profusely before steering the trajectory of conversation to you. Creating small talk to catch up on all the basic details she’s been missing out on. The usual— how life was, if you’ve made any good friends, how being on your own was compared to living at the house. They were questions that you definitely anticipated, but the following one definitely put you on edge.

“Yuta tells me that you haven’t gotten a boyfriend,” She says between bites, looking at you with concern. “How come, baby? You’re so beautiful. I’m sure all of the boys are fawning over you at your office.”

Glaring at the man across from you when he winks, you roll your eyes before answering her. “And what of it? I don’t have any time for that stuff right now,” You shrug as you find your appetite quickly dissipating, upset that your favorite meal has turned tasteless.

“I know your dad and I were tough on you back then—”

“What, you mean not letting me date?” You cut her off, to which Yuta’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Taking away any freedom I had at even the mention of a high school boyfriend?

She says your name sternly, attempting to calm you down. Not used to such shortness, your patience always being her favorite trait from you. “I admit that was wrong of us, but you’re grown up now. I’m sorry for mentioning it. I didn’t think it would upset you,” She apologizes.

“You didn’t know any better,” You sigh, and you don’t realize that Yuta’s eyes are boring right through you—

“Maybe things could’ve been different if I just had a little more freedom.”

Words striking a chord within Yuta unknowingly. Putting the pieces together when your mother looks down in humiliation— at her greatest failure as a parent.

The table has gone quiet. The meal is now awkward as the three of you struggle to find something else to talk about. Upset with yourself for putting a damper on your mom’s mood after looking forward to seeing you. Yuta rubbing at your mom’s shoulder reassuring when she seeks your forgiveness.

You’re ready to move on, wanting nothing more than to pull yourself out of this situation. Until you feel something graze the side of your leg. Shock coursing through your body when you realize it’s Yuta’s sock clad foot sliding up the flesh until coming down again and locking against your ankles. Locking eyes with him as his lips pucker in a discreet ‘shh’ before reengaging your mom in whatever she was talking about— something about her day.

‘What the fuck are you doing,’ You try to mouth, but Yuta’s eyes remain on your mom. Leg gliding up higher as it meets your inner thigh, spreading the two boundaries apart while he nods along intently.

He was actually cruel, planting thoughts of doubt into your head. Unable to differentiate right from wrong— your moral compass pointing in different directions. Do you tell your mom? Eyes darting everywhere as you try to close your thighs around his foot that travels even higher, backfiring when you trap it right at your mound. Cursing to yourself quietly when he presses the sole into your pussy smugly, unable to hide the growing grin when he locates your clit with practiced ease.

Any sane person would run away from his touch, but whether it be out of some need to satiate this unfulfilled spite— your hips grind into it. Your mom’s lack of knowledge and Yuta’s jaw clenching in amusement fueling your desire. Chasing the feeling when he presses even further into your cunt, humping against it like a whore while your mom stares at Yuta so lovingly.

It’s disgusting, you know you deserve to burn at the stake for such an act. But you can’t help it when you grab against Yuta’s ankle to twist your hips in circles to stimulate yourself further, able to feel your wetness seeping out of your leggings when he shoves into you particularly hard. It’s terrifying, you could actually cum like this if he just– a little closer…

“Wouldn’t that be nice? If the three of us went down to the beach tomorrow afternoon?” Your mother’s voice invades your senses like nails on a chalkboard. Hand placed over yours when she gullibly looks at your dazed expression. “You used to love the beach here! Remember the salt water taffies we would always eat when we went? I bet they’re still there.”

“Y-yeah, sure,” You breathe out when Yuta grazes against your clit harshly, catching right on the hood through the fabric. The way you buck a dead giveaway that he was on the right track, staring right through you. Visions of bending you in every position traveling through his head at lightning speed, remembering how good you used to take him. The urge to plague your mind with memories of the way he used to make you cum until you forgot how to speak, his intentions are clear.

Thankful that your mom is inebriated from her third glass of wine, she can’t tell that her fiancé is on the verge of making her precious daughter cum right before her eyes. She giggles bubbly as she slumps over the table, looking at you sweetly as you gasp against Yuta’s ministrations. Unconsciously trying to run away from the sensations by kicking him away, he pulls you in closer by the ankle to keep you in place, strong enough that your chair screeches against the tile floor. Lip worried between your teeth so harshly you’re sure you could draw blood.

“I’m so glad…” Your mom sing-songs as her cheek cuddles into the table. “My baby girl and my beloved Yuta.. wanted you guys to get along so badly.”

“Why wouldn’t we, darling?” Yuta hums, a crazed grin growing when the tight feeling in your belly snaps. Releasing against his foot embarrassingly, your cum leaking out of your hole and through the fabric of your thin pants. He can’t help but scoff, amazed at how sensitive you still are even after years of assumed experience. “We get along well. Right, angel?”

“Y-yes, Yuta…” You breathe out so quietly, unable to help yourself when you feel yourself through your pants. It was true– no one has been able to make you cum like he has. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and it still holds true to this very moment.

What’s worse is your mom still has no idea, lifting her head from the table as she smiles dazedly at the two of you. She’s surely not going to remember the fucked out expression you don, panting quickly as your face heats from the neck up. “You two are the best. I love you both so much,” She pushes herself from the table to take Yuta’s side, to which his foot retreats from your core immediately. Plastering a sticky kiss against his cheeks, you feel like you’re hallucinating when he grunts irritably.

Eyes never leaving yours, he stays still in his spot as his fiancé plants kisses all over his face. “Me too.”

——

Unable to put up with those foolish charades any longer, you immediately retreat to your room without so much as thanking your mother for the meal. You scream into your pillow– how could you? You had no qualms for Yuta acting like an actual scumbag, he’s made it apparent that he’s a horrible person for years now. But you– you should be holding yourself to a higher standard.

Blaming yourself for everything– for leaving Yuta because of your duty to be a good daughter, for not saying anything when Yuta courted your mom in her most vulnerable state, and certainly for letting yourself play into some over glorified round of fucking footsies. Feelings of self loathing encapsulating your entire being, revolted at the weak woman who's let herself live so idly.

It’s now the wee hours of the night. Letting darkness surround you as you fall victim to your inner demons, tears slipping out of your eyes for how low you’ve fallen. Unknowingly walking right into Yuta’s trap that he had set in broad daylight.

“Get the fuck out,” You cry out when he opens your door, choosing yet again not to knock. Walking with a blank expression that pisses you off even further, you sling your heaviest pillow towards his head like it was actually going to do anything. Forgetting that the guy was a huge athlete back in his high school days he dodges it with ease. Gritting your teeth when he approaches you slowly, you screech out when he lunges forward and pushes you down with a hold to your wrists. “I said get out! Get the fuck away from me!”

He shushes you with a finger to your lips. “Quiet now. Wouldn’t want mommy to wake up when she’s sleeping, right?” Taking in the teary eyes expression on your face with glee. “You wouldn’t believe it. She’s an actual nightmare to put to sleep when she’s drunk, will talk your ear off until your head explodes.”

You’re shaking and kicking beneath his hold. Going as far as to try and headbutt him which of course fails. “What do you want from me, asshole,” You curse at him. “Have you not fucked my life up enough?”

The cruel words cause him to drop his head, a pathetic attempt to compose himself as he shudders with crazed laughs. “Oh, my angel,” He releases one of your wrists to cup your face, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Your anger rises when you feel the steel of that damned ring grazing your skin, adding salt to the wound. “I could take everything and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“I fucking hate you,” You spit at him. “Fucking rot in hell.”

“Only if I can take you with me,” He nuzzles your noses together, inhaling the scent that he’s missed so much. “If you hate me so much..,” The hand that’s on his face travels down, “Then why’d you come back?” Long fingers sneak past your leggings to tap against the fabric of your underwear that’s still stained with your first orgasm. “Why do I still get you so wet?”

“That’s… I came back because my mom asked,” You answer dumbly, as if it was the most obvious thing. Whimpering when his index and middle trap your clit, stimulant already so dizzying even with a layer of protection in between.

“Don’t try to act dumb, it’s only cute when you do it unintentionally,” He rolls his eyes. “You came back because you wanted to prove something, because you wanted to see for yourself if mommy is actually better than you. To fulfill that narcissistic need to be better than everyone." The revelation hits you like a truck, and you realize that he’s right. That ugly, green feeling that’s been following you like a curse comes to life. Hating that you had to suffer in silence while both Yuta and your mother got to capitalize off of your misery. Tears flow faster down your cheeks but you’re unable to help your own crazed look, cackling at your stupidity.

“You know what, you’re right,” You start. “I wanted to see for myself how fucking pathetic you actually are. Lost the real thing so you had to settle for second best? Wanted to feel all big knowing that you’re nothing more than the same fucking loser I dumped, who can’t do anything but get off on someone’s misery?”

His eyes widen at the sudden fire, enraged to the point that the hand that was between your pants immediately lunges at your throat before clasping around your neck. “Looks like you’ve gotten mouthy over the years,” He snarls. “How about I fuck that attitude out of you, bratty bitch?” Power resurges in him when you wheeze against his hold. “And by the way, since you think you're such a god send," He cuts himself off before bringing his lips to your ear, biting harshly at the lobe which causes you to wince.

“Your mom sucks cock way better than you.”

Visions of red cause you to break free from his hold, pushing him away before flipping him over. Scratching at his shoulders with curses of hatred spitting between your teeth, ripping his shirt off brazenly before slamming your lips together. “Fuck you,” You gasp before shoving your tongue down his throat. “Hate you so fucking much.”

“Gladly,” He groans out while trying to overpower you, teeth snatching onto your lower lip before sucking at the flesh. Suckling noises as he knees at your core, laughing when you hump against him much like at the dinner table. Separating from your lips to degrade you for your shameless display of riding his thigh, arousal leaking out even further and staining the sweatpants. “Want to treat me like shit, you’re worse than me,” His nails find their way beneath your shirt to scratch at the flesh. “Can never do anything for yourself so you made me your punching bag. Yet you want to get pissed at me when I do what I do?”

“You’re literally fucking my mom, you fucking sicko,” You grit before throwing off your own clothes, eager to have him inside you once again. To reclaim what’s been lost. "I have every right to be pissed. You could have retaliated in any other way but you decided to do the worst thing imaginable.” Assisting him in flinging off his boxers and sweats, your mouth waters when his cock slaps against his abs– tip red and angry as it lands right above his belly button. Precum evident after probably being hard for hours. You did always have that effect on him, being near you was enough to drive him mad.

“Like what you see?” He smirks as you waste no time in angling it upwards toward your entrance. “God, so wet that I could slip right in.”

“It’s alright,” You mutter, taking it in slowly. The stretch of his thickness is quite unfamiliar, the shape that had once been molded into your insides now gone. The both of you gasp out as you have to fight back the burning feeling that grows with every inch you take. Steeling your expression to make you seem as indifferent as possible, failing miserably when the tip reaches your cervix. “I’ve had better, though.”

He tongues at his cheek in amusement, grunting at the way your wet walls grip against the shaft, tip sliding further and further inside. “Really now? Is that why you’re struggling to take all of me?” When you bottom out he throws his head back, hands gripping at your thighs harsh enough to leave scratch marks.

You don’t know what you want, if it’s to stitch his mouth shut or to revel in the beyond sexy groans that escape his lips as you bounce up and down on his cock. Ass slapping down so obnoxiously that the contact of skin reverberates around the room. Eyes rolling back to his head when he sees you throwing your head back in bliss, missing the crazed sex the two of you would have. “Bet mom’s pussy isn’t as tight as mine,” You clench for dramatic effect, loving the way his face clenches.

“I hate that you’re right,” He moans out, chasing upwards to fuck into you. “Don’t tell your mommy,” He pants before pushing you off his cock, flipping you onto your back before plunging back in with a brutal thrust. “But I always have to fuck her doggy style in order to get off, it's the closest it can get to resembling you," He growls. “She may suck dick like a champ, but no one has a better pussy than this tiny and slutty little cunt.”

His dirty words have a large bout of wetness seep out of you, layering his cock even more to the point that you’re creaming. Aiding in the slap of his hips against yours, pussy juice leaking down your ass as you cry for mercy. Trying to run from the pleasure by unconsciously closing your thighs around his hips.

“Ah ah ah,” Yuta pushes your thighs back down, impaling you even deeper in this position. Your g-spot still so easily found the map of your body never leaving his mind. “Don’t you miss this? Getting fucked ‘til you can’t walk?”

You hiss at him, not wanting to succumb to his wishes of gratification. Trying to keep your screams at bay by biting at his wrist that’s next to your head, doing everything in your power to not admire the way his hair frames his face as he fucks into you. How beautifully his skin glows as sweat begins to form along the line of his forehead.

“Always so stubborn, aren’t you,” He tuts before bringing a finger to his lips, coating the digit with saliva before attacking your clit. Rough figure eights from the get go, pinching at it in the way he knows you love— unable to stop yourself when you scream out in the dark room. “Don’t want to admit that you fucked up and lost the best cock you’ll ever have in your life.”

“I didn’t!” You reject the resolute fact, whimpering like a bitch in heat when he fastens his pace. “You’re still the same fucking nobody from years ago.”

You don’t expect him to grab at your hair, scathing scalp causing you to cry out in anguish when he forces you to look at him. Maneuvering you even more harshly when you try to avert his gaze. Bed frame slamming into the wall obnoxiously, thrusts strong enough to shove you up the mattress. “Fucking look at me.”

When you comply, that maniacal grin comes yet again. “That’s right, angel. Left me because I wasn’t good enough for you. But look at me now— I’m everything you've ever dreamed of. I’m who you wanted me to be, but you’re too late. Now you get to pay for it by watching me marry your mom that I don’t even fucking love.”

“You’re despicable,” You cry, feeling that familiar tightening of your lower belly. Hating yourself for loving the way his fingers grip your hair. “You’re the absolute scum of this earth and I hope—” You can’t finish your sentence when he bites against your neck, a spot of purple quickly forming with how rough he suckles against the skin.

“You can say all the foul shit you want, baby,” Yuta smiles against your neck, thrusts becoming sloppier as he feels his own climax coming. “But that won’t change the fact that you’re still in love with this cock.”

Satisfied with the mark that he’s left on your neck, he laps at it with his tongue before delivering the closest thing to a sweet kiss at his work of art. “It’s okay, though. ‘Cause I’ll still need to keep you around, still gonna want to fuck you every time I see you.”

The promise of being his other woman is degrading, yet turns you on beyond belief. Loving the thought of sneaking behind your mom’s back. Knowing that you’ll still be the one that Yuta desires more than anyone else. Dazed grin settling on your face, satisfying your need to always be the best.

You’re worse than him, and you fucking love it.

“Now,” Yuta starts, he punctuates with a thrust from the hilt to his tip. “Who owns this pussy?”

You don’t want to give in. You need to have more power in this sick dynamic, but Yuta knows how to wrap you around his finger. How to cage you in so you’ll never want to leave. The euphoric feeling of his cock sheathing in and out of your pussy causing you to arch your back into his chest— wrapping your legs around his waist and moaning into his ear.

“Answer, or you don’t get to cum,” He grits, making a show to slow his thrusts to spring to action.

“No, no, no— please–”

“Answer. Me.” He says between thrusts.

Dragging you into the abyss with him, you realize that misery really loves company. That the two of you get off to this twisted relationship.

“Yuta! Yuta owns my pussy!” You squeal, and he takes on an animalistic pace that he’s never taken on before. Far rougher and faster than anything you’ve experienced even at the peak of your relationship, fueled by a mixture of so many toxic emotions that have built up to this very moment. Lust, anger, jealousy, and in your own fucked up dictionary—

Love.

“Cum on this dick. Cream all over it, scream so loud that mommy knows how much of a dirty fucking slut you are,” He roars, unrelenting as he feels you clench impossibly tight, trapping his member so tightly that he has to brace his body tightly in order to escape your wet cavern. “You said your mom would never approve of me, right? Wonder why she falls apart on this cock just as easily as you do then.”

“Fuck, Yuta!” You cry out, body spasming. Head light as you see nothing but white, your vision blaring with stars as he fucks you into oblivion. Hatred and passion were truly one in the same, tears flowing down your cheeks freely as visions of the two of you when you were happy played in your head. Wondering where you two would be if you had stayed together.

You lose yourself when you see him bite down on his lip, a vein popping at the side of his neck as he reaches his own orgasm. Biceps tightening as he steels as he revels in how fucked out you look. He’s glad you love this just as much as him, because this was never about your pleasure. He wanted nothing more to claim you, his sworn mission to ruin you accomplished. It truly was a win-win situation.

He roars out into the room, balls emptying when he thrusts all the way inside. Adam's apple bobbing as he gasps for air, your screeches joining him as the legs that are wrapped around his back pull him down. Joining your lips for another kiss, tongues battling for dominance when he paints the insides white. Popping away from the kiss as his cock twitches inside of you, profuse amounts of cum already seeping out of your insides.

“Fuck, angel,” He pulls out, shoving your legs off of him before traveling up your body and pumping the remaining half of his orgasm all over your face. Spurts of white landing on your cheeks and your lips, lusting after you for so long— unable to cum like this for years. “Dirty little slut.”

He might’ve lied, but you were better than your mother in every way. His need for revenge is much greater than the unidentifiable need to hold you close. It was too late for any of that, the two of you sealed your fate long ago.

“You’re the worst,” You pant out, not realizing that tears had been trickling down your face. Unsure if it was from the pounding you’d just received or the uncontrollable emotions. Justifying your actions under the guise that it was worth it, this truly being the best fuck you’d had in forever. “This is never happening again.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” He says while pulling his pants up, rubbing away the sweat from his forehead. “We both know that this is going to happen often.”

“Fall off a cliff,” You curse at him.

“Why would I do that when I’m falling for you?” He smirks before poking your nose, straightening his shirt out before heading to your door. Leaving you naked and alone, aftercare the furthest thing from his mind. “Go clean yourself up, you’re a cum covered mess. Looking forward to seeing you in a bikini at the beach tomorrow."

When you successfully chuck a water bottle at his head, you smirk in amusement. The male only raises an eyebrow at your feistiness. Memories of the two of you playfully wrestling in his bed flashing across his mind, he quickly shakes his head.

There was no room for weakness like that. The two of you only had room left for lust, to take out all your frustrations on each other through loveless sex in this unfaithful relationship. Wanting to slap himself when the memory of the night you left comes—

[ “You’re leaving just like that,” Yuta scoffs incredulously. “Never even let me into your life properly and you just run away at the first inconvenience.”

“You don’t get it. I have an image to uphold,” You spit back. “I could never bring you into my family. My parents would never approve of you, especially my mom.”

“Why? Because I don’t want to go to some college just to get a piece of paper that means nothing? Because I’m not as smart as you?!”

“Exactly that!” You flail your arms at him. “You have no ambitions! All you do is live idly. You could never take care of me.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” He scoffs. “After everything I’ve done for you. I’ve loved you through all of your faults, and this is what I get in return?”

“You didn’t do shit for me, Yuta.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, never anticipating such malicious words to leave your pretty lips. Putting up with being your dirty secret for years, following you to hell and back under the impression you would do the same for him. You told him you loved him, so why did you hurt him so?

“So, it’s like that,” He sighs defeatedly, unable to fight any longer.

“It has to be this way. I’m sorry. I loved you, I really did. But, you'll find better,” You respond shakily before gathering your things, leaving his place for good.

Clenching his fists tightly, he takes your words a bit too literally.

He thinks to himself that he will find better. Something so much better that you'll regret the day you left him for the rest of your life.]

Rubbing his face pliantly, he takes one last look at you before planting his hand against your closed door handle. The two of you mirror images as the post climax clarity settles in, both your eyes devoid of any emotions. Empty.

He couldn’t tell you that he missed you like all hell. That even if your words stabbed his heart like a knife, he would turn back time at the drop of a pin. That no matter how much he built himself from the ground up: buying his dream car, scoring a job that definitely had a higher salary than yours without a degree, and even courting your mother in search of revenge—

it all meant nothing to him if he didn’t have you.

Just as you won’t tell him that you wished you would’ve fought for him. That you resent both your mother and father for holding you to such an infallible standard. You couldn’t tell him that you were sure you loved him just as much as he did you, that you want nothing more to live by his side as you had before the pressure of being the perfect daughter took over.

But such is life.

Sighing deeply, he turns the knob of your door. The creak deafening as he steps out, assuming that you’ll only follow to clean up when he makes it back to his own designated cage. In bed, next to your mother. The band on his ring finger now feels impossibly tight, practically suffocating.

But when he takes the first step out of your room, his stomach drops in fear when he’s met with your teary-eyed mother. Completely sobered up after a few good hours of sleep, trying to find the source of the noises that brought her out of her slumber. Her body shaking uncontrollably as her lip quivers in disbelief at the display of Yuta’s hair pointing in every direction, scratch and bite marks all over his arms.

“Yuta?”

Fuck.

end -> next

────── 〔✿〕──────

author’s note: anon thank you SOOOO so much for waiting so patiently, i really wanted to get this out asap but it unintentionally (or not) turned into a oneshot omg 😭 i did change a couple things from your request but i hope its ok! ty again for participating, i hope i did you even a fraction of your awesome vision justice 🥹💓

#yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct smut #nct x reader #yuta fluff #yuta smut #yuta drabble #yuta hard hours #yuta nakamoto #tagging yuta is always so funny i feel so bad bc i know jujutsu kaisen fans end up seeing this while looking for a okkotsu fic im sorry ads #kpop #kpop smut #kpop hard hours #dom!yuta #yuta x reader #nakamoto yuta x reader #nct 127 smut

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nice to Meet You

For @boxboysandotherwhump - Theo chose soft!Jameson, so here he is! @wildfaewhump gave me the three-word prompt “Space, shell, fair” for Jameson.

CW: Recovering pet whumpees, referenced past torture, scars, referenced dubcon/noncon, briefly referenced past dehumanization, consensual angst, fluff

When he opens the closet door, intending to press himself into his safe spot with his back to the corner, blocked by the boxes, he discovers Allyn is already there.

For a moment, his mind goes blank.

They look up at him and wince as the light cuts into the warm, velvet dark they were hiding in. Their long wavy hair hangs over their eyes, impossibly long legs bent until their knees are under their chin in the oversized sweatpants, gray eyes looking up at him, startled.

They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, whispers Nanda’s voice in his mind, soft and sweet as custard, the first owner, the one who took him on hunting trips where he had him sleep with the dogs and cut a line into the back of his thigh for every animal he slaughtered. All his memories of Nanda are grays tinged in blood - the gray of the sky, of Nanda’s eyes, the red of the bloodhounds, the drips that followed him across the floor. 

Nanda also taught him about bears, while they moved through the woods. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, boy. Vanilla custard, but held on the edge of a sharp knife, metallic under pillowy cloying sweetness. Nanda’s words always felt like blood in his mouth, spoonfed.

Allyn isn’t a bear - but they are definitely afraid.

“Why-” His voice cracks, shock of earthquake through ice on his tongue, and he considers simply closing the door and walking away. Allyn is his roommate, not his friend. He doesn’t have friends, none of them have real friends. Just other people also suffering nearby. Finally, though, he opens the door just a little wider. “Why are you in here?”

Allyn shakes their head, and it’s only then Jameson realizes their hair is uncombed, hanging lank and limp and lifeless, which Allyn’s hair never does. Their lips tremble, no perfect fucking party smile in place like usual, as they cringe back from him. No pretty blouse, no pretty anything. Just pale and shadowed, freckles standing out like someone stuck them on. “I-I’m sorry, I just… just needed-... a, a minute t-to breathe, I’m sorry-”

“This is my fucking space, Allyn. Yours is under the bed, so… go be under the bed.” His voice isn’t as rough and mean as he wants it to be, but it’s maybe mean enough - they sniff, and he sees their eyes glitter with tears.

His anger melts under something he tells himself isn’t guilt, and he exhales, slowly, before he moves to a crouch. He doesn’t like being loomed over, so they probably hate it, too, right? He’s had too many motherfuckers stare down at him in his cages. He stays that way in silence, right at their eye level, cocking his head as they breathe, wondering what color their eyes really are.

“I’m sorry,” They whisper, and he can see the shift of their oversized sweatshirt, three days past needing a wash. This isn’t like Allyn at all. Have they been like this for days, and he didn’t notice?

Well, why he fuck should he notice, they’re not friends, and Allyn is in his space, the only space in his entire life that’s all his and isn’t ringed in bars to put him on display-

No. 

It’s not their fault, they’re upset, and the darkness of the closet is safer than anywhere else. You can hide in closets, he understands why they’re here. He forces down his irritation, and takes in the miserable worry in their eyes.

“Shit. Allyn, it’s... I don’t mean to be an ass, I just-... uh, what made you… need a minute? Exactly?” He should call for the big guy who runs this place, it’s his whole job to handle moments like this, but he can’t quite make it happen. Instead, he finds the voice he wants to be sharp is softer, his words feel like the heat of a kiss he actually wants, taste sweeter than any kiss he’s ever actually had. 

They’re more scared of you than you are of them.

“Um, I-I was-... I was thinking… about… him.” The poison in the love in their voice is all in Jameson’s head, but he feels it seep into all his scars anyway. Acid, that him. Too much pineapple burning his tongue. They’re lucky to have had an owner they could love. Luckier still, to have one who loved them back.

Luckiest of all, to have an owner who wanted them to be happy.

Unluckiest, though, to get chucked out with the fucking garbage when the asshole died and they weren’t in his will. It’s not fair, but it’s fucking life, isn’t it? And in the end, which one of them is luckier? Him, for knowing it was suffering the whole time - or them, for having the chance to believe it was anything else?

“You miss him.” Flat, crash of knives on the ground, the clink and rattle and smack of their handles. Allyn only hears the words. He is starting to realize words feel inside him differently than they do to others. 

Allyn nods, and the glitter of tears spills finally out. 

He wants to touch their face - he doesn’t.

“I-I do,” They whisper. “I know I sh-sh-shouldn’t, but I… I do. I’m sorry, I know that you don’t-... that you weren’t-”

“Yeah, well.” He waves a hand, dismissive. The scars on his back and legs feel stretched, when he crouches like this, balances on the balls of his feet. He can feel the skin pull at itself, numbed but still here. Couldn’t kill me, motherfuckers, how about that? I’m still here, and three of you are gone. You’re just fucking corpses and your little blow-up doll with a heartbeat is still here. “You’re hurting worse than I am now, so I guess we’re sort of even.”

“I just… I can’t-...” Allyn’s voice buckles under the weight of their emotions, it shatters. Jameson tastes blood from the glass and watches Allyn lift their hands to hide behind them. Long fingers, delicate and graceful, even in this. Nails filed to perfect roundness. His own fingers are nothing special, two of them on his right hand broken until they don’t bend quite right anymore. He didn’t have to have perfect hands. He barely escaped Robert getting to keep his hands at all, and that was only because he was pretty fucking good at using them. 

“I can’t live without him,” Allyn whimpers, muffled and thick. “I feel like… like I was made empty for him to fill up, and h-he’s gone, I can’t-... live without him, I can’t-”

He swallows the glass of their grief, buries it inside him. Wonders if he’ll ever know how it feels to give a shit what happened to the assholes who hurt him. What would it be like, to actually feel bad about the deaths? 

“You can,” He says, low-voiced, and shifts forward into the closet, settling himself down and closing the door until only the thinnest crack of light can break up their safer darkness. Barely the width of a wire, the light illuminates nothing, only reminds them it’s there. He listens to the soft inhale, slower exhale, of the person beside him. Their presence is a weight, in his safest places, and his nerves are alight with how fragile it is, to have anywhere at all, how easily ruined by someone intruding. He clears his throat, uncertain, unused to being one to give comfort. More used to ignoring its existence. “You, um. You can live without them, I fucking swear it, Allyn. I lived without all of mine, for a while, ‘fore the next one caught me, or bought me.”

He hears rustling, and tilts his head just slightly to see them looking at him. They’re pale, but he is, too, a duller washed-out color from lack of sunlight for so long. Their freckles look like constellations, the stars he would stare at through Robert’s window in the dark. He notes, absently, that they damn near have a Little Dipper along their left cheekbone. “But-... but you didn’t love them… did you?”

He decides he sort of likes their voice. It slips into his mind, subtle sweetness, maple syrup but thinner. Weaker, but maybe it could be strong. 

With time.

He swallows, speaking gruffly to cover up the strange twist of emotion. “No, I-... no. I didn’t love ‘em, but… but you keep going, you know? You’ll do it, too. I’m not… fuck, I’m not good for this. I wasn’t ever supposed to talk, so I’m not… super good at it now. Being, um. Like, helping… with words.” His voice is thick tar on his tongue, colored by his embarrassment. 

But he tries.

There’s a silence, and he leans over, until his shoulder just touches theirs. Allyn tenses and then relaxes, and they sit like that for a while, listening to each other breathe.

Allyn’s head comes to rest on his shoulder, and he finds he doesn’t mind the weight.

“I’m so tired of being sad,” They whisper. 

“Yeah, I’m-... sorta tired of being pissed off, myself.” He huffs a laugh. Then he feels Allyn’s hand - cold, slender, long-fingered - find his own, warmer and scarred. “Feels like we’re just empty seashells that get filled up with whatever the water brings, huh?”

“That… that sounds really pretty,” Allyn says softly. “Do you think pretty things a lot?”

“No. Most of my thoughts are really fucking ugly.” He manages another humorless laugh. “I guess I can surprise you, huh.”

“In more ways than one.”

“What?”

“I saw what you wrote on the wall,” Allyn murmurs, and they shift their head, breath warm on the side of his neck, where his collar is. Or isn’t. For a second, he can’t remember if he’s wearing it or not. He takes his off, sometimes. When he can. More and more often, as the days turns into weeks here.

“You did?” He closes his eyes, not that it makes much difference. They don’t let go of his hand. There is movement, out in the hall, in the rest of the house, but for the second, he and Allyn are alone. 

“Mmhmm. You can read and write? Did your owner let you?”

It’s a secret he’s kept inside him for so long. It’s so hard to give it away, now. “I�� no, none of them knew I could. When they took it from me, it… didn’t work. I never lost it.”

“Oh.” They’re silent for a moment. Their breath is warm, and despite himself, he feels a nervous flip of his stomach, his hair standing on end. It’s something trapped between fear and want, and it’s unlike any fear or want he’s ever felt before. “What did you write, on the wall?”

He could tell them anything. He could lie.

He tells the truth. “I wrote out our names. All of us. Um. The, Jake, and… his people. Eli, Nova, Sarita, um, Allyn…”

“Did you write yours?”

He lets his head gently fall back to rest against the wall. His heart might break out of him, bleed all over the floor. A different kind of bleeding, a kind that he sort of wants, even though he doesn’t. “Um. Yeah, I… yeah.”

“What is it?” They don’t move their head, they don’t let go of his hand. “What’s your name?”

He shouldn’t tell them.

It’s been his secret for so, so long. But… fuck, he’s so tired of secrets.

“Jameson,” He says, and it’s the taste of air just before rain, a chill breeze on a blistering day. His name, the one he gave himself. “I’m-... my name is Jameson.”

They’re quiet for a second, and then say, softly, “Nice to meet you, Jameson.”

It sounds better, in Allyn’s voice.

Everything does.

---

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @astrobly @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump

#whump #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #recovering whumpee #broken whumpee #allyn bb #jameson bb #referenced dubcon #referenced noncon #scarring #scars #pet whump #dehumanization #freed whumpee #angst #all comfort no hurt #grief tw #conditioning #new rescues

[immortalcoelacanth]

Between the Walls, Chapter 2: Salutations and Explanations (Dream SMP fic)

... Although, I should probably tag this as more of a Sleepy Bois Inc thing given the content... Anyways, onto chapter 2!

Word count: 5356

Summary: At it was at this moment that Tommy knew, he fucked up. 

“Let me tell you one thing, you pig bitch-”

There was a tiny child in his walls.

“And I bet your mum ain’t all that-”

A tiny child who was yelling at him, insulting him.

“So, you better listen up! Motherfucker-”

Techno was almost impressed.

He wondered if the kid was aware of how absolutely not intimidating he sounded at the moment. His voice cracked and broke occasionally as he cursed, he was visibly trembling in what Techno assumed to be fear, and he looked like he was moments away from crying with those wide eyes and that terrified look on his face.

The kid reminded him of a cornered animal, terrified and lashing out to try and protect itself. He was doing the same thing, trying to scare the hybrid off with harsh words and false bravado.

Techno quietly thought about how young he must be. It was a good thing Phil was nowhere nearby since nothing would have saved both him and the kid from the ensuing lecture and interrogation period. Questions about where the kid was from, who he was, what he was doing here…

Questions he should probably be asking before the kid broke down crying. He had a feeling it would happen eventually when all that adrenaline wore off and the reality of the situation fully sunk in, so the currently shrinking window of opportunity was the best chance he had for finding out what he needed to know.

“And do you know what the fuck a breath mint is?”

… But first he had to shut this kid up.

“You got anything to say? Huh? Or are you just gonna-HEY!”

The tirade was cut off when, without warning, Techno reached out and pinched the back of his shirt, using that to lift him up in the air and out of the shelter that had been provided by the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” The kid squawked as he struggled and squirmed in an attempt to escape Techno’s grip. The hybrid rolled his eyes as he continued looking the tiny being over, occasionally turning him so he could inspect the rest of him. The only thing of note he found was the belt the kid wore that had various tools hooked onto it.

Nothing that really posed a threat to him, but it was still good to take note of it.

“Trying to find the off button.”

“The-OFF BUTTON?! EXCUSE YOU, YOU BITCH-”

“Damn, doesn’t seem to be one.” He noted in that same, monotone voice. Of course, this ended up enraging the kid further, his shouts and curses growing louder.

His wild, frantic eyes growing wider.

Well, now was as good as time as any to start asking some questions before he ended up pushing the kid too far. He swore he could hear that tiny heart pounding away in the kid’s chest, and the hybrid realized it was entirely possible for the tiny being to pass out on him, or worse, have a heart attack from the stress.

Double time on that interrogation, then.

Techno changed his grip, wrapping his fingers around the kid and getting bit in the process-

This child was absolutely feral. He’d probably need a rabies shot by the end of the day.

Eventually, and with some careful maneuvering to make sure didn’t drop the struggling figure, Techno was able to place him down on the top of the small shelf located near the entrance of his house. It was right in front of a window, too, and he saw the way the kid’s eyes flickered between him and the possible escape route.

Nope.

Not a chance.

The hand placed between the kid and his freedom earned him a scowl and being flipped off once again, though he was quickly getting used to this brash and foolish behavior. In a way, it reminded Techno how he had acted when he was much younger. How cocky and overconfident he had been before the world brutally showed him where his place was.

Now, his confidence was backed by years worth of training. By the lives he had ended and the blood he had spilt.

It made him smile at the memories, oddly enough. Naturally, the kid immediately took his smiling to be about something far more sinister, and he started shouting once more.

“What the fuck do you got planned, huh? Got some creepy shit planned? You… you gonna need a bone saw or some crap like that for me-”

“Oh please, all I’d need is a decent nutcracker.” Techno scoffed, completely oblivious to the look of horror that passed over the kid’s face before it was quickly replaced by that false bravado.

“Can’t believe you’d threaten me like that-”

“Not what I was talking about!” The hybrid quickly interrupted, visibly shuddering and in turn making the kid let out a loud laugh.

Just how in the hell was something that small so loud anyways? Weren’t there rules about that sort of thing, mass being proportionate to how loud something could be. There was a reason why he had hated hanging out with kids when he was younger.

… Except for Wilbur, he had always been the exception.

Not wanting to take an agonizing trip down memory lane back to when his family had been whole and alive, Techno decided it was time to start asking the questions he wanted answers to, beginning with the most important one of course.

“And why are you in my house, anyways?”

“Your house?” The kid scoffed and crossed his arms. “It’s mine! I called dibs!”

“Heh?” Techno found himself at a genuine loss here as he tried to comprehend the logic behind that statement. “You can’t claim-I built this place.”

“Doesn’t mean you called dibs, bruv, and you did a shit job of buildin’ it, too. It could use more decorations that aren’t you! And music!”

The hybrid let out a frustrated groan while dragging a hand over his face. Why had one of the most annoying, obnoxious, and loud people he had ever met decide that his base was the perfect place to invade. Why had this kid picked him instead of somewhere else, like L’Manberg.

… Actually, that was another good question to ask-

“So, when are you gonna clean up this pigsty?” The kid asked, completely derailing Techno’s train of thought.

“I fear for your brain cells if all you can come up with are pig jokes and saying fuck over and over again.”

“... Fuck you-”

“And my concerns are proven to be valid.”

“My brain works perfectly fine! It’s just yours isn’t big enough to get it!” He snapped back.

“Suuuuure, pipsqueak, whatever you say.” Techno sarcastically drawled. It seemed as though either the aloof expression on his face or the nickname he had granted the boy only enraged him further, as he watched the kid start stomping the ground as he continued shouting.

He was witnessing a literal tantrum.

“I’m not a pipsqueak! You’re the one who's freakishly tall!”

“Like I couldn’t tell with you calling me big man every five seconds, and I’ll just keep calling you that since you seem to like it so much.”

“Then just call me Tommy! It’s not that hard!” The now named Tommy exclaimed, and it was only when a smile appeared on Techno’s face that he realized he might have messed up.

“Uh… I mean-”

“So, that’s your name.” Techno interrupted, grin growing as he leaned forward and rested his chin on a closed fist. He was enjoying messing with this kid. It was almost as fun as terrorizing Quackity. “Got any other important info you wanna share? Credit card number?”

“No! No, no way!” Tommy let out a nervous giggle and took a step back. “C’mon, man, let’s see some manners! I told you my name, so you should tell me yours-”

“Technoblade.”

“... What?”

“Or Techno for short.” The hybrid continued, not caring about the stunned and confused look on the kid’s face. He was used to people looking at him weird, especially when they heard his name. “No pig-pun name here.”

“... You were so close to having a cool name.” Tommy bluntly said. “You’ve got half a cool name. Now Blade, that’s intimidating! Big man Blade-”

“Never call me that.”

“Alright TechnoBitch-”

“Your insults are getting worse by the second, I fear you’re undergoing cellular brain death.”

“Are you making up fancy words to sound all smart now? Cellular?” Tommy scowled. “What’s next? You gonna start talking about other made up stuff, like leprechauns, or dolphins?”

“... Dolphins are real-”

“That’s just what the dolphin believers want you to think! The… the dolphevers!”

Techno threw his head and started laughing, the noise surprisingly loud. It made Tommy jump as he winced at the volume. Discomfort ran through him, and he started to slowly realize how dangerous the situation he was in might be.

He had always been warned to stay away from humans, and while this guy didn’t look all that human, he was sure the same warning applied. He could be trapped, hurt, tormented…

Why, why had he decided to stick around instead of just running off, or trying to barter for his freedom? He had always lived his life on the edge, flirting with danger instead of women. The thrills and excitement of interacting with a human could have driven him to do this.

Or perhaps it was that quiet voice within him that begged him to interact with Techno, to reach out and be social and finally interact with someone after all the days he spent alone.

A voice that kept insisting that things would be alright, that he would be okay.

A voice that could result in his demise if he listened to it.

He would never see Tubbo again...

His mind made up, Tommy slowly backed away from the hybrid, one hand raised while the other behind his back towards the belt that Techno had noticed earlier. “Well, this has been fun and all but I’ve got to head out and you’ve got some cleaning to do, roomie.”  

Techno’s eyes narrowed as his bout of laughter finished, aware that he had something planned that would probably cause some problems, but before he could act on his suspicions, Tommy made his move.

And chucked a fist full of sand in the pigman’s face.

Immediately, Techno let out a shout and recoiled, lifting his hands up to his eyes in an attempt to scrub the gritty substance out of them. Tommy took his chance and pulled out his grappling hook, attached it to the side of the shelf, and quickly slid down the rope. In his haste, as well as the movements caused by the hybrid’s thrashing, the grappling hook came loose, and he dropped the rest of the way to the floor.

Tommy landed, cringing as agony raced up his legs, and did his best to ignore it as he shot off towards the space under the shelf, knowing he would be hidden from sight and have a better chance at escaping.

He had to escape since he doubted his captor would be that nice to him again.

Meanwhile, Techno was currently battling every urge he felt to lash out and kill the kid. His mind and soul screamed for blood, for death and revenge for the humiliation and pain he had been put through. It took all of his willpower to stop himself from grabbing his trident and slamming it into the floor in an attempt to find, and kill, Tommy.

The main source of his restraint came from a voice that sounded a bit too much like Phil’s calmly whispering that there were other ways to do things, that he did not have to resort to violence.

This was then converted to make him pay, but not with death. Death is a release, not a punishment.  

His eyes burned.

He let out a pained hiss and blindly reached towards the nearby brewing station, managing to get the bottle of water he had placed in it for potion brewing. He uncorked the top, looked up to the ceiling, cracked his eyes open, and quickly flushed them out to get rid of the sand.

All in all, only a couple seconds had passed since the sand had been thrown and Tommy had escaped. He could not have gotten far, but the more time the hybrid wasted sitting here, the further the kid would get.

Techno tossed the bottle to the side and quickly crouched down, still aching eyes scanning the wall as he tried to figure out where Tommy had gone. He spotted a flash of blond ducking behind part of the wooden shelf, and he quickly moved the wooden panel that covered the bottom part of the shelf. It was like a box of sorts and that could be used as storage space, but he had never put anything there and just left it closed.

So, naturally he had not at all been expecting to lift the panel up and find a tiny hole in the wooden floor, the perfect size for Tommy to fit through. His mind ground to a halt as he processed what he was seeing.

THERE WAS A HOLE UNDER THE SHELF?!

WHEN HAD THIS HAPPENED?!

Okay, okay, now was not the time to get caught up on. The kid was under the floorboards, possibly heading towards the basement. He rushed over to the ladder, slid down it, and jumped onto the stone flooring. He looked up at the ceiling, not seeing any obvious sign as to where the kid must have gone and decided that using another one of his senses might pay off.

Techno shut his eyes, ears twitching, and listened carefully. Listened for that one, signature noise that would tell him where Tommy was.

The sound of someone running over wood.

There!

On instinct, he swung the axe towards the sound, the blade chopping into the ceiling and exposing the hidden passage that had been carved into, and the boy who had been sprinting through it.

Now, this was where things took a bit of an interesting turn.

You see, despite the fact that Tommy had spent his life in a borrower settlement, he was quite experienced in building structures and had frequently challenged Tubbo to speed bridging contests. The adults always hated whenever he did that, claiming that the flimsy structures would alert humans to their hidden home, but Tommy had always ignored them and kept building.

… Until they resorted to hitting him. Then he stopped, but the skills he had developed over the years stayed with him, so the second he started falling he also started building. He had managed to place a couple blocks down as he fell and grabbed onto the little outcropping he had made. He was vaguely aware of Techno moving below him but was far more focused on trying to pull himself back up into the remains of his tunnel.

Can’t fall, gotta stay up! Have to run!

Unfortunately, his hand slipped off the planks, splinters sinking into his skin as he started to fall. Falling, and-

Landing on the top of Techno’s head. Surrounded by the crown the hybrid always wore and with no escape in sight, he decided to cling to the strangely soft, pink hair below him. It smelled… weirdly nice. There was a hint of a herbal scent he could not place, but it didn’t smell super flowery or anything like that.

“You’re pretty fruity, aren’t you big man?” Tommy impulsively asked, and he felt Techno freeze below him as the hybrid realized what the sudden, impossibly light weight belonged to. Seeing an opportunity to get another jab in, he immediately went for it with little regard to how precarious the situation was. “Lookin’ all… all flamboyant with your fancy dye!”

“I doubt you know what that word means, and it’s not dye.” Techno dryly retorted, tilting his head upwards so he could try and glare at the kid.

Seeing that nothing bad had happened, the hybrid had not tried to crush him, nor had he been grabbed and flung towards the nearest wall, Tommy decided to take a risk and started speaking once more.

“.... Hehe, guess things are fine then, big man-” He nervously laughed before he was cut off by Techno picking him up once again. The kid immediately started thrashing, squirming, and cursing as he tried to break free.

The hybrid rolled his eyes at the unnecessary dramatics and made his way over to the collections of chests on the other side of the room. A quick search resulted in him easily finding the item he was looking for.

A bottle.

He caught a glimpse of Tommy glancing between him and the bottle, his face shifting between pure rage and fear, but before he could object to what Techno was planning on doing, the cork in the bottle was removed and Tommy found himself being trapped inside.

“LEMME OUT YOU PRICK!” He shouted as he slammed his fists into the glass wall, wincing as his hands started aching.

Techno just chuckled and put the cork back in, preventing the kid from escaping and making it much harder to hear his shouting. A blessing in disguise, really. “Think of this as karma for the sand from earlier.”

Seeing no way to get out, Tommy flipped the hybrid off and slowly slid down the side of the bottle until he was resting on the ground. His arms crossed, knees were tucked to his chest, and he looked down so his face was hidden from sight. At least his silent moping made it easier for Techno to think.

What to do next…

He had the kid who had been borrowing through his house like some oversized termite, and he knew the kid’s name. There was still so much information he was missing that he wanted to know. What the kid was, if there were any more of him nearby-

An infestation was the last thing he needed.

… Perhaps the librarian back in the village would know something about this tiny kid. He knew that the somewhat eccentric villager had a large collection of books about all sorts of topics, so there was a chance he might have some kind of information he could dig up.

It was worth a shot.

He mentally debated on whether it would be worth it to bring Tommy with him, and ultimately decided he would in case he needed to show him off to the librarian, or one of the other villagers who might know about him. Without bothering to warn the kid, he quickly scooped the bottle up and fastened it to his belt.

He faintly heard the sounds of someone shouting and cursing, and decided to ignore it as he left the house. Techno hummed to himself as he made his way over to the nearby village, not bothering to waste any ender pearls since he still lacked a consistent source of them. No villagers were able to trade them, so his only option was relentlessly hunting down Endermen until a pearl was dropped.

Annoying, but necessary for now.

Speaking of annoying, he spared a glance down at the bottle on his hip that contained the furious Tommy, taking note of how the kid was smacking the glass walls and trying to find a way out. The red hue that had taken over his face also made it clear that he was still screaming.

He let out an exasperated sigh and picked the bottle up off his belt, lifting it up so it would be easier to talk to the kid. Now that he was up close, the hybrid could easily see the look of frustration on the kid’s face, as well as how red his eyes were.

It looked like Tommy had been crying.

“Calm down. I’m not gonna kill you.” Techno grumbled. “And stop screaming before you lose your voice.”

“You’re a bitch!” Tommy spat, not at all paying attention to what he was saying. “Fuckin’ dragging me out to who knows where, planning on doing who knows what-”

“I’m not going to sell you.” The hybrid interrupted, lifting a brow as he watched pure shock cross Tommy’s face. “... You really thought I was gonna sell you-”

“Well yeah!” Tommy sputtered as he flailed his arms. “The fuck else would you be doing?!”

“Interrogating people.”

“The fuck-”

Those were the only words Tommy was able to get out as the bottle was clipped back onto Techno’s belt. He shifted his arms a bit so his cape hid more of his body, and in turn the bottle, from sight. When that was finished, he strode into the village.

Children ran to and fro, some pausing to wave at him or whisper among themselves. He ignored them, as he always did, and continued on towards his destination. He also steered clear of any of the villagers he normally traded with, not wanting to get caught up in some unwanted conversation. He kept walking, picking up the pace whenever he heard someone get a bit too close to him until he reached the library.

It was far from your traditional library, much more of a home with a massive collection of books available for people to read. Techno didn’t bother to knock on the door, opting to instead open it and walk inside. A somewhat large, sparsely decorated room with simple shelves greeted him.

A moment later, the sound of rustling in one of the small side rooms filled the air and the familiar face of the local librarian popped out of it. He resembled your typical villager, though the spark of curiosity made his eyes glint and shine. He was obviously curious as to why Techno had shown up, but before he could ask the hybrid spoke.

“So, what do you know about tiny people?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be a bit more specific than that.” The librarian cheerfully replied, not at all phased by the seemingly random question. “Are there any particular features you can describe? Do you have an example?”

Immediately, Techno’s hand moved to his side, ready to grab the bottle and use Tommy as his example. However, just as he was about to snag the bottle-

He froze.

Dread coiled in his heart, an uncomfortable sensation that he had not felt for many years. He grit his teeth as he struggled to sort out exactly what he was feeling, what his instincts were trying to tell him.

Tommy’s wide eyes, tears still lingering in the corners-

Was… was this guilt?

There was no way he was feeling guilt! It couldn’t be. He had felt no guilt when threatening the kid earlier, didn’t really care all that much about him. So, why did the thought of showing him to someone feel…

Wrong.

He was unable to come up with an answer, feeling frustrated with himself. It was a stupid emotion, a weakness, but at the same time his instincts, those same feelings, had gotten him out of dangerous situations in the past. He’d be an idiot if he didn’t keep listening.

So, he dropped his hand and opted to explain instead. “Short, couple inches tall. Uses tools like grappling hooks to get around. Lives-”

“In houses?” The librarian finished, that sparkle in his eyes growing brighter. Looking a bit thrown off, Techno nodded.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“You have perfectly described a borrower!”

“... A borrower?”

“Yes! Humanoid beings who are only a few inches tall! Generally, they tend to live in already inhabited homes, or with other borrowers in hidden settlements! They’re signs of good fortune.” The librarian explained as he scanned the shelves, looking for a specific book. “It is said that there is a powerful connection between borrowers and humans, their companionship offers a kind of peace and feeling of completion that we cannot hope to feel on our own-”

“I’m assuming that doesn’t apply to hybrids as well.” Techno interrupted, brow raised in a combination of curiosity and disbelief.

Borrowers… so that’s what Tommy was. And the kid had chosen to live with him? Why? And what had he been doing in a frozen wasteland before that? Was there one of those settlements nearby, or was there some other factor that had driven the borrower into staying with him.

So many questions, and so few answers.

To his surprise, the librarian quickly shook his head. “Your assumption is incorrect, Blood God. On the contrary, borrowers and hybrids have been known to share settlements in the past, working together and helping one another out-aha!”

A book was pulled out of the shelves, cover worn and title nearly illegible. After the book was given a quick once over, it was presented to Techno. He immediately took it, held it up in the dim lighting, and read the title aloud.

“A Historical Investigation into Borrower Society…?”

“Indeed! That should be a good starting point for your research on borrowers, and I can search for other texts if you wish to read them.”

“... That would be helpful, thanks.” Techno nodded while adding the book to his bag. He then pulled a couple emeralds out of it and looked at the librarian. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing at all! It warms my heart to see someone else taking an interest in borrowers,” The librarian exclaimed while clapping his hands. “And for my library to be blessed with the presence of one.”

Ah, Tommy.

He must have either spotted the bottle the borrower was in, or one of the other villagers must have and then passed the information along to him. Either way, the hybrid felt…

Annoyed.

His eyes narrowed and he unconsciously shifted so the side of his body the Tommy was on was further away from the librarian. He also flared his cape out, so the borrower was completely hidden from sight.

He was unaware of how Tommy had pressed himself against the side of the bottle upon realizing he had been seen. Unaware of how the borrower had tried to take shelter in his presence despite the rough start to their meeting.

Unaware of the wide, confused eyes that stared up at him, trying to comprehend that his captor was protecting him.

The librarian, seeing the change in Techno’s mood, quickly backed up and lifted up his hands. “Fret not, Blood God, I would do no harm to your charge.”

… Charge?

Before he could question what the librarian meant, the robbed man quickly ducked into some side room and started rummaging around in it.

“The next time you visit, I shall have something to give you! I promise!”

Had… had he just been given the signal to leave? Techno stood around awkwardly for a couple more moments as he waited to see whether the librarian would make another appearance. When he did not, the hybrid decided it was time to go.

Social interactions had always been a critical weakness of his. For how intimidating and threatening he could be, that mask would dissolve in an instant if he started floundering while talking to someone.

Wilbur had always teased him about it…

The walk back to his house was, thankfully, silent and allowed him the perfect opportunity to think about what he had learned in the village. Tommy was a borrower, a tiny being that lived in houses and stole for a living. He had no real magic or other noteworthy skills, aside from the advantages brought to him by size. He could be sneaky.

However, he still had to think about what to do with the borrower. Let him stay, or kick him out.

Soon enough, the hybrid found himself making his way up the stairs to the front of his house, letting out a relieved sigh once the door shut behind him. His shoulders loosened, the tension he had been carrying since he first entered the village fading in an instant.

He hated talking to people, so much.

Techno glanced at the nearby table and then looked down at the bottle on his hip. He promptly lifted it up, met Tommy’s eyes, and spoke.

“If I let you out and you don’t behave, I’m gonna fill the bottle with water and stick you back in it. Got it?”

Tommy shuddered and quickly nodded.

Stupid, he was so stupid for getting himself into this situation, and now he had no idea what Techno was going to do with him! Of course, he could always try to escape again, but he doubted he would get far, and if he got caught…

Nope. He was just going to sit, wait, and try to be as quiet as possible.

Upon seeing that Tommy was listening and actually keeping his mouth shut, Techno uncorked the bottle and tilted it towards the table so the borrower could easily slide out. Once he was settled on the table, the hybrid walked over to the other side of the room and started thinking.

Thinking about what his options were and what he should do.

Was it worth it to keep Tommy around? To have to deal with an annoying presence constantly in the place he had created as his retirement home. Would the aggravation be worth it? What would he get out of it, anyways?

They’re signs of good fortune.

Borrowers and hybrids have been known to share settlements in the past, working together and helping one another.

…That librarian had a point.

It would be useful to him to keep Tommy around, or kill him, even if the kid didn’t give him any good luck. He definitely couldn’t let the borrower leave, lest someone from L’Manberg snag him and get him to spill everything he knew about Techno, and if he kept the borrower around there was always the potential to use him in the future.

To have a tiny spy on his side could be quite the valuable tactical advantage, especially for when L’Manberg came after him.

He doubted Quackity would stay down for long.

So, with a plan properly in mind, he directed his attention back towards the borrower who was, thankfully, still sitting on the table. It looked like the kid had been zoning out until he heard the sounds of Techno’s approaching footsteps. He got back to his feet and glared at the man staring down at him.

Was… was he trying to be intimidating?

Techno let out an amused snort, ignoring the resulting remark about him really being a pig, and started explaining his deal.

“Alright, tiny-”

“TOMMY!”

“ Tiny.” Techno insisted, and to his surprise Tommy actually shut up.

It was probably due to the fact that he wasn’t really in any kind of position to argue or make demands. His life was on the line and he knew. All he could was hope the human would show him some mercy and not chuck him out into the freezing cold.

Whatever it was, it worked in Techno’s favour.

“So, here’s the plan. I’ll let you stay here, give you food and shelter, but you have to give me something in exchange.”

The deal was simple, with the benefits to Tommy being obvious. Something that he hoped would distract the kid and prevent him from questioning what Techno got out of their agreement.

Or what he would get, that is.

“What the fuck do you mean, big man?! Give you something in exchange?! I don’t have anything to exchange!”

“Well, since you said you don’t have anything to exchange,” The hybrid began, taking another step forward so he was closer to the table, already witnessing the real purpose behind his plan coming to fruition.

Tommy paled and took a step back as Techno loomed above him, shadow engulfing his tiny frame as that scheming smile crossed his face. Okay, it was clearly an awful decision to agree to his idea. Abort, abort-

“You’ll just have to work for it, then.”

                                         xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Techno's character arc for this fic is literally him going from exploiting one orphan to two XD

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fic #borrower au #dsmp tommy #dsmp techno #borrower!tommy #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc fic

[tuffduff]

My Path to You (Slash x Reader)

Pairing: modern!Slash x younger!Reader

Words: 2,300 (OOPS)

Request: anon! : “hi there! i was hoping you could write a modern!Slash imagine where there’s a considerable age gap (whatever you’re comfortable with) and the two of them meet and fall for each other. eventually slash wants to ask the reader out on a date but is super shy and nervous but she says yes and then they go on a date and it can end however you want it to.”

A/N: MY FIRST SLASH REQUEST Y’ALL!! And I do be nervous writing it lmao. This is entirely from Slash’s POV, I’m not sure if people like that kind of thing but it’s a different way to explore writing. There’s a little coffee shop in my area that has a picture of Slash on the wall, so that was inspiration too. Hope y’all enjoy, thank you for the request! 🖤

What now? It was a question Slash asked himself nearly every day, now that he was newly single. That was a new feeling, one he wasn’t expecting now at this stage in his life; wasn’t he supposed to be married and settled and happy and all that shit by this point in his life? He brushed off the notion, after-all who gave a fuck. He wasn’t a conventional guy. Life is as it happens. But he’d be lying if he didn’t say the idea of getting back out there again intimidated him.

Slash kept to himself in his own world, for the most part. Creating, always with guitar in hand. Especially now being sober, putting himself out there wasn’t exactly appealing. He couldn’t use a dating app, he wasn’t gonna go to a bar or a club, and all of his friends were taken. Where would he possibly meet someone? Dating someone famous wasn’t really what he was looking for, he never fit in with that scene. He wasn’t opposed to dating a fan, but could he ever find someone who wanted him for him?

“Don’t worry, man.” Duff had reassured him. “If it happens, you know, it’ll happen. But not if you’re looking for it. You’ll find her when you least expect it. Just live your life.”

That was smart and Duff was usually right. So, Slash continued to focus on his craft. And he tried to change his outlook, very literally. One night, he wore a baseball cap pulled low and his hair tied back and tucked away in his jacket and hoped it was enough not to get swarmed as he headed out to an art walk in the more historical art district near downtown.

If anyone recognized him, they let him be as he walked down the cobblestone sidewalk, taking in all the creations. The more art and sculptures he admired, the more he stopped worrying about getting recognized.

He was admiring two pieces of wood burned art, a set featuring an artistic interpretation of a woman’s silhouette body.

“These are really sweet.” Slash complimented the artist, who gave a gracious nod.

“Thanks, man. Those pieces have had a lot of eyes on them tonight, thankfully.”

“How much for ‘em?” Slash asked.

“$65 each.” The artist replied, almost sounding sheepish. “...Maybe that’s why they haven’t sold yet.”

“I bet they took a lot of time.” Slash assured him. He pulled out his wallet, fishing out two hundred-dollar bills. “Don’t let people make you second-guess your work.” He passed him the bills, to which the man’s eyes widened.

“Uh, I’m-I’m not sure if I have the enough change.” He said, hastily digging through his small stack of cash from prior purchases.

“It’s cool.” Slash said, smiling and extending his hand. “Thanks again, man.” They shook hands before Slash picked up the two pieces of wood, already trying to picture the perfect spot in his house.

“Okay, I’m back! I’ve got it!” Slash heard someone breathlessly calling behind him. It was a younger woman clasping a wad of cash in her hands as she ran up to the man Slash had just left. “Dipped into my savings but...”

The wood carver gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, they just sold.” Slash watched literal heartbreak wash over her eyes before they flickered right over to him. The dismay in her gaze, the way her shoulders slumped and deflated nearly made his own heart break.

“Oh...damn.” She muttered, tucking the cash back in her pocket. “I really liked them. Oh well. Thanks, anyways.” She said politely. She sent one last glance towards the pieces of art in his arms before she turned on her heel and walked away, head down.

“Hey!” Suddenly, Slash found himself hurrying after her. She stopped in her tracks and turned, her eyes now displaying curiosity.

Uh, what now? He asked himself in his head once he found himself face to face. Up close, she was even more striking, he realized. Beautiful, he’d never seen a face like hers. So expressive, so vivid, so alive with emotions. Her hair framed her face perfectly, her clothes complimented her body well and seemed to be a representation of the woman she was. And he liked everything about what he could see.

“Uh,” he chuckled nervously, looking down. “I, uh, I overheard you had your eye on these.” He said, raising the pieces of art.

“Yeah. I come here to this event every month. I’ve seen those two every time and I’ve been trying to save up. This month I would’ve had enough, but bills—you know.” She rolled her eyes and sighed a little. “Anyway, I saw them tonight and I just couldn’t bear to wait another month or risk them finally being sold, so I ran back to the ATM down the street and pulled out of my savings, not that I really had a lot in there to begin with...” she paused as though she had said too much, shaking her head, flustered. “Sorry. Uh, but I mean, I’m happy for you. Just, take care of them for me.” She chuckled, but her eyes were still stuck on the art.

“I’ll do a trade with you.” Slash proposed. His nerves were playing tricks on him, making him more outgoing than he normally was and then wanting to take it back as soon as he spoke.

“Um, what kinda trade?” She asked curiously. Her nose scrunched a little as she frowned in confusion and he smiled. She was precious. Slash found himself wondering every little detail about her, about the path she had walked in her life so far, and how somehow theirs had crossed.

“I’ll let you have these if you’ll get coffee with me.” Coffee dates, that’s what people did nowadays, right? She blinked a few times at his words and had him wondering.

“That doesn’t seem fair; you paid for those. I’ll pay you for them.”

“No, no. I really don’t need the money.” Slash replied, laughing a little. “How about you keep one and I keep one?”

“...Why?”

“I can tell you really like them.” He said. She bit her lip as she seemed to consider his offer, hesitating.

“And why coffee?”

“I think you’re the prettiest art I’ve seen all afternoon.” Again, her face expressed vivid emotion that most people tried to hide. He watched her lips form a laugh and appreciated the sound.

“I don’t even know your name.” She laughed. He panicked a little in his head. Guess he wasn’t gonna get everything right; it had been a while.

“I guess you can call me Saul.”

“You guess?”

“My friends call me something else.” He mused. A part of him was curious to know if she knew him; lots of people recognized him, not that he was conceited or kept track. Was she a fan? Did she hate his kind of music? Surely, she’d heard of Guns N’ Roses. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” Slash smiled; it was like finding the right spot on a puzzle. It fit perfectly and helped him see even more of the picture. “Y/N, I can tell you really like them. I wouldn’t feel right keeping both; I just stumbled upon them.”

“All the more reason you keep them. They spoke to you, like they spoke to me.” There it was. Her voice, her words, it sent a slight wave through his stomach. That warm, fluttery feeling. He extended out one of the pieces to her insistently.

“All the more reason you keep one too.” She smiled as she took the wood carving.

“Thank you so much.”

“So, would you maybe wanna...?” Again, a part of him panicked. “You don’t have to, you know. You can take your half and be on your way if you’re not interested.”

“No, I’d love to! There’s this little local coffee shop I go to all the time—they display local artists’ work and have live musicians Friday nights and stuff. Do you want my number?”

“Uh, yeah. That’d be cool.” He fumbled with his phone, surprised he had gotten so far. That evening he went home with more than just a piece of artwork and a new perspective. He dialed Duff immediately.

“Hello?”

“I’ve got a date, but I need help.” Duff laughed.

“Are you on that date right now?”

“What? No.”

“Oh okay—it sounded urgent.”

“Well, I’m still freaking out a little.”

“Why?”

“She’s a little younger. But she’s so fucking beautiful, dude. She’s just, I don’t know that much about her, but I want to, you know? From just what little I could see.” Slash sighed a little before he walked Duff through the whole story.

“Did she not recognize you?”

“I don’t think so. But I was wearing a hat and glasses and my hair was tied up.”

“It’s gonna be fine, man. Don’t forget who you are, and that’s one badass talented motherfucker. But also, if nothing else, you can take something from this experience and just gain a new perspective. See the world from someone’s eyes. Don’t overthink any of it. If you guys click, you click.”

Slash realized Duff was right. That’s why he appreciated art. Music, especially. There was so much to be said in something someone created, a story they were trying to tell. Listening was something he did best.

He met Y/N at the local coffee shop, not far from where they had first met. The large pot holders outside were adorned with colored mosaic and he stopped to admire them for a moment.

“Hi, Saul.” He turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Y/N was walking up, a bright smile on her face. It was as if his memory were confirmed; yes, she was as beautiful as he remembered the first time.

“Hey, Y/N. This place looks neat.”

“Wait ‘til you try the cold brew. Do you like that?”

“I like those things you get at Starbucks, the caramel things, you know?”

“Caramel macchiatos?” Y/N asked with a laugh. “They have something like that. I’ll order it for you.”

“Okay.” He agreed instantly, smiling at her. “I trust you.” He paid again even though she argued, remembering what she had told him about bills. As they sat down together with their drinks, they broke into what he supposed was small talk, however, it didn’t feel like it. In the meanwhile, Slash couldn’t help but notice the pictures adorning the exposed brick wall behind them. A framed photo of ABBA, The Rolling Stones, Aretha Franklin…and, one of himself, on stage. He laughed a little.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked as she sipped her drink. He smirked a little, deciding maybe he should come clean.

“I was just looking at the pictures on the wall,” he replied nonchalantly. “Out of all of these people, who do you think is the coolest?”

Y/N turned in her chair, her eyes passing over the pictures.

“The Rolling Stones are cool...Slash is pretty awesome. Probably one of those two.” He smiled when she turned back around. “What?”

“You think I’m pretty awesome?” He asked as he pulled his shades down. Y/N’s eyes widened and she clasped her hand over her mouth.

“I—you! Are you—” he laughed. “So that’s what your friends call you! Oh my god. I didn’t recognize you with your hair pulled back and the glasses are different, and I didn’t know you had the scruff nowadays—it looks good.” She stopped. “I listen to you all the time, this is so...strange.”

“Is it bad?” Slash asked.

“No!” She laughed again. “But...me?” Slash shrugged, smiling as he nudged her shoe with the tip of his converse.

“You seemed pretty chill.”

“Thanks. Most of the time I’m not.” She grinned.

“Neither am I.” She didn’t try to argue or continue to fawn. She didn’t stare at him like he was a Martian. There was reverence in her eyes, surprise, but more so, curiosity.

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno. It’s kinda like, social media. People only put a small portion of themselves out there, what they want people to see usually. But when everybody knows who you are, they still only know one part of you. And they think they know everything. But here I am...getting a divorce. I’m a dad. I’m just trying to figure shit out like everyone else. Experience life.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He laid all of it out on the table, after-all, he couldn’t hide any of those facts if he were looking for an honest partner.

“When it comes down to it, that’s what matters, right?” She mused with him. “Experiences. Not getting it right. Who decides what’s right anyways? I’d rather say I really lived.” It was those words that really stuck with him. It had him thinking, it had him yearning, it had him daydreaming.

It had him asking to see her again.

Slash called Duff before he even made it home.

“Hey, man, how’d it go? How’d she take it when you told her?”

“Good, she really is just the most chill chick ever. She knew who I was, she just didn’t recognize me. But she’s so cool, she’s got all these thoughts, all these opinions that really get me thinking, you know? I can’t wait to pick up my guitar, man, like, I’m that inspired right now.” Duff laughed.

“So, are you gonna see her again?”

“Yeah. That’s the other thing.” Slash paused. “I invited her over for dinner next week.”

“Oh. Right on; good for you, man!”

“But I don’t know how to cook.” Duff was silent for a moment before he laughed.

“Okay...well. I can help.”

#slash gnr imagine #slash gnr #saul hudson #saul hudson imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #gnr imagine #gnr #slash x reader #80s imagines #classic rock imagine

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmate AU- Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Bruce would never admit it. No, of course not. Bruce was a literal father of eight, Catwomans fiance and motherfucking Batman himself. Right then, standing in the ruins of what was once “The City of Love”? He could not handle the situation. There should have been more people coming to Paris’ rescue, more heroes offering their support and overall more attention on everything that was happening, more attention on what has been going on for years. The irritation seeped into the batfamily like some kind of mist. Everyone felt it, but each person was dealing with it in their very own, individual way. 

For example there currently was a frustrated Cassandra Cain asking Tim for directions, while using a crowbar to open a door that has been sealed shut by the rubble of one of the broken buildings. She was angry, or at least that’s what she has been taught this emotion was called. The decade she has spent on the streets of Gotham have made her capable of handling all kinds of tools and left her with every necessary skill there was, if you needed to open a door or look for something any other person would not have paid any attention to. The young adult wasn’t keen on following her main mission. The villain could be caught later, but those people were dying right then and there. Tim has told them about the Miraculous Cure. Yes, all those people would come back to life if only their heroine would finally manage to catch that damn akuma. 

The memories would stay though. The city would consist of traumatised citizens and be vulnerable to further attacks or, in the worst case, further manipulation. Dick could not stop thinking about what could happen afterwards. What are they going to do once the villain has been eliminated and the miraculous cure has been cast? How would the citizens of Paris react when some sociopath would raise their voice and demand power and set up rules and just overall exploit the damaged and desperate minds of the victims? 

Would this emotional trauma lead to new extremists? 

Would they have to fight a new Hitler or have to assassinate the next Stalin? Speaking of assassination: Damian was raging. His already bad temper was a perfect starting point, which means that now that he had mixed his constant anger with the situational rage... he felt alive. 

He remembered that that was what superboy has felt like the first time he realised he could fly. Kon-Els’ emotions were always very...expressive. He loved to indulge every bit of adrenaline and excitement he could reach. Damian was glad to have him as his soulmate, though. The other boys positivity and extroverted way of acting was complementary to Damians introverted defensivness. Kon-Els’ habit of sharing his pleasent emotions and sensations through their soulmate-bond has opened the Wayne heirs eyes in several ways.

Now the youngest batfamily-members’ adrenaline and rage-filled soul was holding back from sharing that powerup with his lover, though. Instead he was focusing on Paris and subconciously hoping not to remember it in it’s current form, having planned on taking his boyfriend there for their anniversary. No, instead he was looking at those pained faces and ruins. His mind was tunneled, sure, but whatever he saw on the other end of that tube did not stand a single chance. The boy was rummaging through the streets, following each and every one of Red Robins and Batmans orders without giving it a second guess. Damian was reacting to everything colored red that came into his vision. Paired up with his oldest brother, who has taken to asking the citizens about what they have witnessed and if there was anyone who needed immediate help. Damian did not speak. He stared down anyone who didn’t answer them right away and “put on pause” whoever was causing trouble inside the shelters. He was following the “no killing policy”. (Which didn’t mean he held back.) A broken bone was a broken bone, no matter if it killed you or just immobilsed you for a few weeks. Dick did not approve of Damians actions, but the young one was careful not to leave a trace of his doings and knew for sure that there wouldn’t be anyone who would dare to tattle on him, not if they valued their oh so precious teeth.

Each and any trace that could lead them to the villains identity has been collected. Barbara paid special attention to accuracy and professionalism, no matter how difficult it was. She didn’t allow herself to loose focus, didn’t turn away from the mission. She wanted to, oh how much she wanted to just stop looking at those weird dusty footprints and butterfly themed anythings and pull the people in misery out of their ashes. Orakle couldn’t dare do it, though. Anyone else has already stopped paying attention to the mission. If she did too, there would be no one left to find the source of evil. She kept on playing the matra her father has taught her in the back of her head: “Find the criminal, save the future victims, find the criminal, save the future victims...” 

The future was uncertain, even for Duke. His photokinetic skill let him see into the near future, aswell as a bit of the past. But that didn’t help because that day he just couldn’t see anything but death and destruction in both directions. His vision was clouded with blood and dust and he quite honestly felt blind and useless. They should’ve come sooner, they didn’t have the right to leave these people to their own devices. Especialy since they knew that their devices were malfunctioning. The boys heart was full of regret. If only he could have seen this coming, if only he could have showed the akumatised victim a way out! It was his job as “The Signal” after all, he didn’t wear this annoyingly bright yellow suit for no reason!

Tim was surprisingly calm. He had his coffeemashine working, Alfred keeping him comany in the batcave and several constant sources of information keeping him entertained. He hated to admit it, but for once he felt fulfilled. His brain was working at just the right pace, he was giving out orders and information without having to secondguess himself and could allow himself to just let the mission take it’s course. He saw the dots moving around on the screen, saw the battlefield growing and changing and knew when to usher his family away from, or even towards danger. Yes, the pressure was incredibly high, but oh god was it exhilarating. 

Which didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed when his orders were being ignored. Cass not listening to him he has already been counting on, she was saving the people and that was all he needed her to do. Stephanies string of fate, which was connected to Tims heart, was safe and sound and she kept him updated about her actions, so he was fine with keeping her out of the equation, for now. Jason though? 

“Hood! What the fuck is up with you?”, Tim signaled his older brother, who was currently walking at the pace of an elderly zombie and, for whatever reason, constantly turning in the direction of the Saine, completly disregarding the route Tim has assigned him on. “I totally get your need for caffeine now, Red.”, Jason laughed in return, “doesn’t mean I support it though.” Having said that he went back to silently brooding in the direction that was making him even more tired than he already was. 

Jason was exhausted, but he wasn’t dumb. He’d guessed that his soulmate had to be somewhere in the area and he was certain that the strenghtening bond was due to their proximity. The further he walked the more he felt them. Or in other words, felt his body succumb to their weakness. Whoever they were, Jason knew they were on the verge of dying. A soulmates bond can only do so much. Sure, if he ate and slept for two, his bonded would get their share, but it still wasn’t enough. Judging by the way he was currently about to collapse, they haven’t been taking care of themselves for a while now. Jason had to do something. He needed to find them and get them to someplace where they could recover, at least enough for Jason to be able to get back to work again. 

Blinking, Red Hood realised where he was. Where there should have been water, just a few dozen meters in front of him, were...

“Red, am I hallucinating or is that river full of giant ladybugs?”

“Those are boats. Their color indicates them to be Lucky Charms, a creation of Ladybugs superpower. Batman and the others have found several other items all over the city and collected the ones they could. Apparently Ladybug has to throw them in the air in order to cast the cure. Are you capable of investigating these ones? I think they could be shelters but my drones haven’t arrived yet so we have no heatvision to investigate from abov-”

“I’m on it.”, Jason interrupted him, having gotten a grasp of the situation and, due to his tiredness, not being capable of listening for such amounts of information without succumbing to the monotone lullaby of another human beings voice.

Tim watched in wonder, as the big, scary, red hooded man stopped midtrack, made a 90° turn and climbed into a destroyed cafe. He came out of it, several minutes later, armed with what seemed like two cups of coffee, a bag full of food held between his teeth and unconcious parisians on each one of his shoulders. Jason carefully squatted, letting them down at the door of the nearby akuma-shelter and sitting crosslegged next to them. After carefully dropping his bag of baked goods in his lap and downing the probably burning hot coffee from his left hand in one go, he finally turned his com back on and just sat there, eating. 

A few moments had passed before Tim mustered up the courage to speak to him. He’s been fighting evil in the streets of the most crime-ridden city their planet had to offer for years now, but never in his whole career has he seen something as terrifying as that man he considered a brother, who he knew had commited murder, died and come back to life, just sit and eat while everything around him consisted of ruins, death and destruction.

“Tho-those civilans. Did you-?”

“I knew you would ask that!”, a full mouth replied, “Of fucking course not. They were knocked out by their bloody ceiling collapsing onto their damn heads. They’re still breathing and I’m sure there’s like, first aid in those shelters. I just gotta-”, he took another bite, taking his time, again swallowing his second cup of coffee in one go and letting out an exhausted but slightly more energized breath, “I just gotta recharge, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Are you okay? Why so weak all of a sudden?”

“Who are ya calling weak, replacement?”

“I meant what I said, now spill.”

An uncharacteristical sigh escaped Jasons lips. He didn’t like speaking of his soulmate. It made him feel weak, especialy due to their bond consisting of literal suffering. Given the current situation, though, he decided to share.

“Did you know I have a soulmate?”

Tims surprise was evident but he did not dare speak up, in fear of disrupting his brothers confession. 

“We’re kind of a fucked up pair, to be honest. Our bond isn’t as cute as yours and Spoilers. It’s like...very physical. Whenever she gets hurt I get the same bruise.”

Jason now knew she was female. He felt her much more intensely, recognized those physical attributes he was sensing. If felt weird and he would have to get used to it. (Only if the both of them were going to survive the next few hours, of course.) 

He took another bite of the third pastry he was currently eating, before continuing: “Whenever one of us has hurt ourselves when we were little, the other did something similar in some sort of “payback”. It was dumb. Silly realy...”

Tim was only half listening. As much as he wanted to know every tiny detail of this secretive mans confessions, he still had a job to do. A shelter not far from Dukes whereabouts has been covered by more debris and was therefore in danger of collapsing on itself. He gave out orders to everyone but Jason. Red Robin had a guess considering what he was about to be told and couldn’t risk ignoring that possibly incredibly important piece of information.

Jason was finishing his seventh pastry, while explaining to Tim how he recognized Paris through his soulmate and pointed out how odd it was, that she knew what every angle looked like from above and how she has never set foot inside an akuma-shelter. 

Saying it out loud made it painfully obvious. Especially when he paired the information with the fact that his wounds seemed to heal so quickly and the exhaustion the bonded pair was feeling.

Ladybugs powers include healing.

Ladybug was fighting the most difficult battle this war has ever offered.

Ladybug was Jasons soulmate and he knew where he could find her.

------------------------

Hello!!!

I hope you are having a great day, night, morning...probably night. Nighttime is tumblrtime after all. 

Thank you SO MUCH for all your feedback, it is now my fuel, my water, my blood, I love y’all.

Also, English is my third language so please, if you find any mistakes or notice a grammatical sin: please tell me! I am still learning and would love to correct my mistakes.

Part 4 is in the making and either it will be very long or I’ll make a part 5. No promises though!

P.S.: Proper Jasonette is finally happening next chapter, I’m excited ^^

I never would have thought I’d get to say that but I now have a taglist! If you want to be added just tell me in whichever way: I will find you and I will tag you *insert evil laughter*

Tag List \o/:

@maribat-is-lifeblood @lokilex @amayakans 

Thanks for reading ^^

#jasonette #jasonette july #jasonette soulmate au #soulmate au #batfam #maribat #maribat fanfic #jason todd #jason todd x marinette dupain-cheng #marinette dupain-cheng #soulmate bruises au #batman #cassandra cain #batgirl #black bat #Richard Grayson #dick grayson #nightwing #batman and robin #robin #damian wayne #kon-el #Damian wayne x Kon-El #superboy #hawkmoth #akuma #barbara gordon #orakle #duke thomas #The Signal

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics Chapter 3.

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- almost too well. In fact, Arch's life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as great as it seems....

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two]

CW: bullying, deadname use (though never revealed), memory problems, drugging/ spell casting, physical violence, robbery.

-----

CHAPTER THREE: A WAXING CRESCENT

The work was extraordinarily simple, Arch thought to themselves as they swept the floor before closing for the night. It had been several weeks since they had begun their job at Mystics. The pay was good- too good, they would think to themselves- especially since the last two nights Arch had cashed out the till with less than a hundred dollars to show for it. The days had been growing longer, the city was beginning to thrive with action, and yet, only one out of ten people would be walking into the shop, and out of those, only a few would ever buy anything at all. The opposite should have been happening. People should have been walking in at all times; at all hours buying ridiculous knick-knacks and asking Arch how to do tarot readings. It didn’t matter that Arch didn’t know, because they would pretend to know and then give some silly instruction, such as “your intuition will guide you”. Everyone loves feeling like they know the answers themselves- at least, they would, if they ever came in.

Regardless, the store was a staple to the community and had been there for decades, so why was it so dead?

It occurred to Arch that until being hired, they didn’t care for the place either. But it was comfortable, it had a good atmosphere, and the objects that Lyrem had curated and bought wholesale were decent prices- except for the rocks- Arch still thought that to be a silly investment. Spiritualists and mystics and people who just wanted pretty candles and incense should have been swarming the place on a day like today.

They heard a sound at the back door, past the washroom. Putting the broom down, Arch reached the end of the short hall and opened the door into the alley. Lyrem was there, unloading multiple large boxes from the back of his SUV- he didn’t notice he had company until Arch finally asked him:

“Do you need help with any of that?”

Lyrem spun around, meeting their gaze, he sniffed. “Oh! No- no, I’ll be alright. These are just… going into the back room for now.”

Arch nodded. They didn’t realize there was a back room.

Lyrem opened a different door in the alley with a round yellow key from his keyring and propped it open before carrying the first box through.

“You should keep an eye on the store, don’t want anyone walking in to take our merchandise,” Lyrem wasn’t so much asking, as demanding, and Arch nodded, leaving him to do what he had to.

Arch finished sweeping, and placed the broom behind the counter. They were planning to lock the doors, when a few familiar faces stepped through. Familiar from school, and familiar from the school bus particularly.

Fuck, Arch flinched as they walked in.

“Heard you got a job some place fancy!” Marcus, the ringleader, the one who looked too old for high school and too young to be trusted, sauntered into Mystics like he owned it. Behind him, a kid named Kyle, shorter than Marcus and stalky with hair so blond, he looked bald from farther away. He held a girl’s hand, Jess, Typical jerks disguised as jocks, is all they were.

Alarm bells.

For Arch, they were never literal. No one could feel them, or hear them, or how they pounded in their head incessantly until the threat was gone. Their mother set them off, as well as teachers, principals, ignoramuses on the streets, and these three motherfuckers. Of course, they would show up here.

Marcus leaned over the counter, taking a peek around to the cash register, and then looked up, all around the establishment, and particularly checked the corners. He turned back, nodding to the register.

“So, what’s in there, like three hundred dollars probably?” He inquired.

Jess picked up a small angel statue near the shelving with one hand, admiring it. Kyle split off from her, finding his way to the other end of the store, opening the record player that had ended its last song several minutes before they entered. It was still spinning. Flicking the needle, Kyle scratched the record- its painful sound echoed through the store.

“Jess, please put the angel down”-

Jess stared at them and smiled before letting the statue drop to the floor. Its wings cracked apart. With a feigned look of apology, she shrugged, and wisped her long black extension-filled hair behind her shoulder with fingers decorated by fake nails. Arch winced and gritted their teeth. They moved forward, only to have Kyle stand in front of them to block their way to the angel that needed to be cleaned up.

“Answer Marc,” Kyle said. He was entertained by Arch’s rigidness and doubled down, “What? Just answer him.”

“It’s none of your business what’s in the drawer,” Arch replied. “Now get out, all of you- I have to close.”

“You can’t close when there are still customers in the store,” Jess chimed in an annoying accent she learned from reality television more than from reality itself. “It��s rude, sweety, and we’ll make a complaint if you do.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows expectantly, reaching out an arm, he pushed Arch backward by the side of their shoulder.

“Listen, it’s not my fault, and it’s not your fault if your boss decided against using cameras in this store. It makes theft very easy- and besides,” He used their fake name in replace of Arch. Alarm bells ringing still, “- this money is insured. No harm done!”

Marcus assumed that Arch would allow him around the desk- even Arch believed they would allow him to get there too, but instead, Arch pushed him back. It was an act of stupid defiance rather than out of bravery. Not a moment later, Marcus threw a fist into the side of their face, and they all heard a sudden cracking sound. Arch fell to the ground, grasping at the armrest of one of the orange armchairs. They spit blood onto the floor, the ringing was louder than ever.

They heard the loud ka-ching of the machine and shuddered. Marcus was collecting the money in his hands at a leisurely pace.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a boy now, or something?” He asked, closing the drawer.

Arch held back the tears as much as they could, but betraying them, they squeezed their eyes shut and the water flowed from them unstoppably.

“Cause, if you are, you ought to think about growing some balls for next time.”

Kyle whooped.

They felt a swift kick land into their back that kicked the air out of the mouth in a puff. They didn’t know whose foot it belonged to, but it left them sprawled out, only to be kicked again in the side of their stomach.

Arch heard the familiar jingle at the doorway and covered their face with their hands. The back door opened, and Lyrem walked in with a scowl on his face. He huffed as he saw Arch struggle to stand. He shook his head.

They didn’t know where to start, they didn’t know what to say, they didn’t know how to explain what happened without being fired- because they let it happen. Before they were able to say anything at all, Lyrem started instead.

“Damn children.” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, and proceeded to the till, opening the cash drawer, he unloaded all the cash into it in an organized fashion. “Absolute nasty creatures, aren’t they?”

Arch sniffed, and tried to stand. Exhausted and ashamed, they climbed onto the chair to sit instead, and cradled their head into their hands as Lyrem busied himself at the till. He looked over to them, a slight sympathetic smile curled itself at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t you worry. I’ve already taken care of it.” He checked the time on his watch. “You should be feeling tired. The spell will wear off within a day. And you don’t have to worry about getting home. I’ll drive you.”

His voice echoed calmingly through their ears- a heavy thrumming sound followed, and then the unmistakable feeling of total peace drifted over them, lulling them to sleep.

But Arch wouldn’t be asleep. They would continue on their normal evening schedule as an autonomic body, healed completely with the exception of some bruising that would be reasoned away by an awkward sleeping position. The next morning, Arch would wake without any memory of the attempted robbery at all, and no idea that Lyrem had done anything about it.

#caretaker Lyrem #physical violence #whump #whump writing #creative writing #Mystics by Alpaca #writing #writing blog #whump blog #bullying #deadname #whumpblr #emotional whump #robbery

[ladyfl4me]

Hi please yell about boyd and stern in TCOS and TMWCIFTC :D!

Anon, THANK YOU for enabling me, you have my fucking life in your hands

I’ll preface all of this by saying that everything in this post is related to my long-form Amnesty works, The Moth who Came In from the Cold and The Children of Sylvain. If you haven’t read those, then you’ll be pretty damn confused, so I guess now is as good of a time to plug them - and the series - as any. A heads up: I started it back in 2018, and everything in TCOS is just… very VERY loosely associated with Amnesty canon at this point. Same root premise, same characters, but back in 2018 even I couldn’t predict where arcs 4 and 5 ended up going. TMWCIFTC was written as the logical progression, in my head, of an alternate arc 4, and everything that happened in TCOS is based off of that progression. It’s got almost no connection to the actual canon at this point. I’ll be recapping some of the more important plot points for context, though.

Here’s hoping the read-more works. This was 7 pages long in the google doc I prepared this in, so I apologize in advance to everyone on my dash if this got fucked up. Spoilers for TMWCIFTC ahead, as well as general vague spoilers for Amnesty.

So everything’s coming up roses. Fantastic. Let’s start with the biggest thing: how the characters of Agent Stern and Boyd Mosche have changed from canon to this AU.

Boyd’s Changes:

We’ll start with Boyd, because this motherfucker is UNRECOGNIZABLE from canon. On god, that is all Griffin’s fault. Pretty much all of Boyd’s character was concentrated in arc 4 of Amnesty, and honestly? He was a fantastic character there. Loved him as a counterpart to Ned. He gave off an air of “the ends justify the means” in almost everything he did - especially how he was willing to do anything, including blackmail Ned to hell and back, to get back to England - which I’ve grafted into my version of him. The angst-loving part of my brain seized on the tragic possibilities of his relationship with Ned and was bumping “No Children” by the Mountain Goats every time they interacted. Great stuff, interesting complexity, was genuinely surprised when he kicked it.

All that happened after I introduced him as a character in TMWCIFTC. My version of him retains the smooth-talking Britishness of him, with the aforementioned “ends justify the means” logic for everything; I’d probably sort him as a chaotic neutral, with basically all of his points in wisdom, charisma and strength with very few in intelligence. I tried to work with that for the start. We knew nothing about Boyd at the time I was writing TMWCIFTC, so my brain wanted to fill in that blank for jokes and giggles and haha funny’s and was like, “Yo what if Boyd was a Sylph this entire time? Wouldn’t that be fucking hilarious?” 

And that’s what I did. What happened to make this version of Boyd was a bit of a random “perfect storm” of influences and choices, which really only got sharpened because of my one-shot The Devil Went Down To Georgia. That one’s the main source of all Boyd lore, even though I barely reference it these days because he’s gone so far off the rails it’s a miracle I can keep him straight. 

I’ve talked about The Devil Went Down To Georgia a lot in relation to Boyd on here. TL;DR, I decided to make him two things: a violinist and a Sylph/cryptid, specifically the Jersey Devil. Yes, he is still British. I chalk it up lore-wise to a few things: the original Jersey Devil is more of a distant relative, Boyd crossed over from Sylvain and ended up in Britain sometime after that, and just willingly chose to keep up the British persona Bastard. I don’t think about it too much. He’s been a criminal from the very beginning; he’d been in prison on Sylvain, went through some shit there that made him steal a crystal and book it, and he continued to do crime on Earth to survive.

The violin thing is mostly me desperately wanting a character to have that background, because I played for seven goddamn years and want to put that knowledge and catharsis somewhere. Boyd probably either picked up a Sylvan instrument that was similar, or learned it in the early 20th century when he came to Earth, and just held onto it. He held onto the skills and got good - good enough that he could have gone professional, and tried in 2007, but that didn’t go super well, as anyone who’s read TMWCIFTC can attest. 

In terms of the type of cryptid he is, I’ve made the Jersey Devils a subspecies on Sylvain that takes cervids (deer, moose, etc.) or bovines (goats, antelopes, cows, etc.), as well as canines/felines of any shape and size, puts them into a gashapon machine with pterodactyl-style wings, awful teeth, and a snake’s tail, and calls it a day. You can get a tiny Jersey Devil that’s a combo of a tiny cat and a dik-dik; you can get a jacked nine-foot-tall terrifying amalgam of a lion and a moose, with a fucked-up mouth of multiple rows of teeth and huge claws.

That last one is Boyd. Don’t call me a monsterfucker for this, I have no defense.

So where does that leave him in relation to the Lodge? Back in 2018, before I started developing the lore that factors into TCOS about Sylph communities outside the Lodge (namely the Manhattan Sylphs that Leo worked with when he was a Chosen One), I figured that it’d be funny if every single cryptid kinda just… knew each other, or hung out near the Lodge. As you know if you’ve read TMWCIFTC, he got into some trouble in 1967, which Barclay, Indrid and Mama “bailed him out of.”

Once they found out he was a fellow Sylvan, though, it became less about “report this guy to the authorities” and more about “we have to make sure we keep an eye on this guy so he doesn’t get himself, or other Sylphs, in trouble” thing. He basically became Mama’s mostly-socialized half-feral cat, slinking through the halls of Amnesty Lodge, eating random food, falling asleep wherever, sitting in rooms where people are doing interesting things and just watching them. And everyone... kind of likes him. Sure, he doesn’t have a sleep schedule, and they have to get soundproof panels installed in his room at the Lodge because he’ll stress-practice violin at 3 in the morning, and he keeps shoplifting stuff from local stores to give to people like a cat bringing back dead mice. But he’s a good man. And he’s getting better every day.

Then he got got by the Ashminder in ‘98. He bolted, completely forgot everything about the Lodge but had the address of a former Lodge resident on his body after his memory was wiped, found a still-alive but memory-wiped fellow Lodge dweller, and fled to that address. Boyd lived there for years, trying to clean up his act and try to anchor himself a bit. Then in 2007, something on his path went wrong, and the stress break he went through after that made him run from that place. That’s when he met Ned, and they had a few years together before Boyd ended up in jail.

Then, once they killed the Ashminder and the memories it had eaten came back, Voidfish-style, Boyd remembered everything: the people who’d taken care of him, the friends he’d made, the love he’d found, the time and effort he’d put into getting better, the rewards he’d reaped because of it. He remembered fighting monsters and defending them. He got hit with it all at once, and missed them. His parole date was coming up; he could bide his time until he was released, and run down there.

But then, at the start of TCOS, Something Happens that makes all Sylvan disguises and spells shit the fucking bed; his disguise spell, which has been hiding a nine foot-tall jacked demon out of hell, flickers, and the invisibility spell that had been put on his disguise item to hide it failed. Boyd knew he was fucked if the jail folks found out he was a Sylph, so he decided to fucking Kool-aid Man out of there, becoming a wanted man in the entire state of West Virginia and getting a bit roughed up in the process.

But hey. Whatever it takes to get home, right? 

Stern’s Changes:

Stern’s changed too, though, and here’s how. It was relatively simple to tweak him, because so much of him was a blank slate to begin with. First: that name. Garfield Kent Stern is his full name: Garfield for the cat/Deals Warlock, Kent after Kent Mansley, the irritating dipshit FBI agent antagonist from the classic animated movie The Iron Giant. Poor bastard. He started as a walking meme who I was going to kill off; I came up with that name long before we got his real name in canon, and didn’t want to retcon it out. 

I’m a sucker for secret connections and familial ties, too, and back in 2018 the headcanon gashapon gave me “what if Stern was a cousin of Duck’s, but there was family drama that made their parts of the family split when they were kids, so now 30 years later they don’t remember each other?” 

And that’s exactly what I did. Gary is Duck’s first cousin on Duck’s mom’s side; their mothers are sisters. Gary’s uncle Arnie was a Secret Service agent who tangled with an Indrid trying to stop the Kennedy Assassination once, and he keeps telling that story at Christmas, much to everyone’s chagrin. Gary remembered those stories, and even received Indrid’s old disguise glasses - knocked off his face during his uncle Arnie’s chase - and carried them with him for a long time.

He didn’t start off as a baby cop, though; he was more interested in hitting the books, finding out the logic and doing the research to figure things out. I have him become a history major, getting a PhD with a few bits and bobs here and there that I haven’t worked out yet. Whatever the case, he spent a LONG time in academia, from undergrad starting in 1996 to graduation in about 2005. 

Things weren’t as peachy as he thought they’d be, though. Gary wrote and published his thesis, like a good little PhD candidate, but someone was watching him. In his thesis, he’d been trying to cobble together various cryptid-related legends across the word and making connections between them, among other things. He’d managed to link up and explain something that Unexplained Phenomena had been trying to figure out themselves. They immediately intercepted his thesis, kept it from being disseminated anywhere else, erased all copies of it after graduation, and reached out to Gary independently to bring him on.

Make no mistake: he went willingly. Despite the whole thesis coverup, Agent Gary Stern wasn’t coerced into being a government stooge, and he wasn’t blackmailed - he was given an offer to work with the cryptid cops, and he enthusiastically took it. Government benefits were decent, he’d heard; post-grad options were looking slim, especially going into the recession. In his mind, there was a bit of allure to it all, too. A secret government organization looking into suspicious and possibly supernatural things all over the nation? Fantastic. More opportunities to do research. He was in. Gary accepted their offer and started basic FBI training in 2007 - the same year Boyd had that mental break and went AWOL, returning to his life of crime and meeting Ned.

Biggest mistake he’d ever made. But then again, if he didn’t take them up on that, he wouldn’t be here, would he?

So he joins UP, goes up the ranks. They had him researching and charting the Bigfoot case for a while, and he was the only one who was willing to work on it at all because… well, Bigfoot sightings weren’t as sophisticated as some of the other projects that were out there for UP. (See: Area 51. We don’t talk about Area 51. Nobody talks about Area 51. Definitely nothing shady and unethical going on in there, no experiments on anyone or anything, no sir.) 

Gary’s diligent, though, and doesn’t like to back down from a challenge. That’s all hunting Bigfoot was: a challenge. No personal stake, no empathy. It was a job to get done, even though an entire person’s life was at stake.

And he got so caught up in this challenge that, when he went to Kepler, he EASILY got attacked by the Ashminder and destroyed within an inch of his life. He got the very memory of his job and intent in Kepler torn out of his head; once the Ashminder died, and those memories came back, they didn’t feel like his anymore, or like they’d been part of his life plan to begin with. Overcome with confusion and guilt, he decided to clean up his act and try to work against the FBI, with Mama’s blessing. 

His goal? Quit the FBI, get them off the Lodge’s back, and then see what happens next. Maybe he’d go back to academia, or teach, or something - just get as far away from the FBI as possible, as far away as he can be from hurting people. But he’s got to bide his time, because if he bolts now, they’re going to get suspicious and put the Lodge in even more danger. And that’s where he is now.

So why have they changed?

Simple answer? I don’t want to rewrite them to fit with canon. I just don’t. I don’t want to make Boyd human; I don’t want to change Gary’s name to Joseph and make him a Bigfoot groupie. I don’t want to rewrite hundreds of thousands of words of work to fit last-minute decisions made in the end times of Amnesty’s canon. My fic has diverged so much from canon that the canon versions of the characters don’t belong here anymore. Besides, Stern was such a background character in arcs 3 and 4 that he barely mattered, making his reappearance in arc 5 a bit of a clumsy follow-through, and Boyd was a one-act wonder. A little expansion couldn’t hurt. Making Gary something other than a direct antagonist made the narrative load a little easier, too, at least on my end. I hate giving a cop screen time, but it’s easier to justify his existence by rewriting his backstory and making him slog through the hell of a redemption arc. He’s had that coming. 

This leads us to TCOS, though, where the arcs of our player characters turn a bit more towards the plot, as opposed to the emotional fulfillment they got in TMWCIFTC. Characters like Gary, Mama, Boyd, and Alexandra take center stage for emotional and backstory development, while the original player characters take a temporary backseat. Alexandra’s a key linchpin of the story as a whole, both emotionally and narratively; Mama gets lore expansions and has personal things to settle; and Gary and Boyd are… here. So:

How do these two work with each other in TCOS?

It’s great. It’s fantastic. These two are my favorite to write in TCOS because their conflict is just so fucking FUN. On the one hand, you have an almost-ex-FBI agent who’s been taken in by the Lodge, is related to a Pine Guard member, is trying to keep his coworkers off the Lodge’s back as sneakily as possible without drawing suspicion, and is desperate not to screw up this second chance he doesn’t think he deserves. On the other hand, you have an ex-con who got a second chance from the Lodge, sees them as his last best option to be safe as long as nobody reports them, and wants to keep them safe out of a sense of familial obligation he’s reluctant to admit to, even to himself.

That’s two people with questionable morals, with a semi-familial attachment to a place that gave them second chances, each seeing the actions of the other as a threat to their - and everyone else’s - safety. Claws come out almost immediately.

At the start, Boyd and Gary go together like apple juice and toothpaste. Boyd sees a narc who’s threatening the one safe place he has left; Gary sees an impulsive, selfish threat, a domino that - if it falls - threatens, you guessed it, the one safe place he (and other people, sure) has left. Boyd breaking out of jail means the entire state of West Virginia, and probably the whole East Coast, is on high alert looking for him, and if that attention comes anywhere near the Lodge? They’re fucked.

Neither of them believe that the other is capable of change or anything but selfish, malicious harm. Boyd has more of an argument than Gary because Gary is still actively reporting things to the FBI, but in Gary’s defense, the moment that he stops reporting anything to them, they’re going to suspect things and might end up sending more people to the Lodge. The Pine Guard can’t afford that, so Gary has to play by the rules until he’s in a position where he can quit. I’ll pull a specific argument they have from TCOS that I feel really exemplifies this:

"I don't want you to get caught."

Boyd scoffed. "Something tells me you're not worried about me."

"I'm not."

"Well, thanks."

"I'm worried," Gary went on, "about someone seeing you, and connecting you to the Lodge. You just used the hot springs as your personal landing strip, in broad daylight. We're on the upper half of the mountain. And I don't know how big your Sylvan form is, but -"

Boyd grinned. It looked more like a snarl. "Oh, plenty big enough," he said.

Gary ignored that. "Big enough for someone to see you from down the mountain?" he challenged. Boyd's lip curled, and he looked away. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm just thinking ahead. What if someone came beating down our door looking for you? What if it was a cryptid hunter? What if it was the cops?”

"Yes, yes, fine, alright," Boyd snapped. He threw his hands up. His eyes were hard and cold. "It'd put us in danger. I get it. But you're still here. I think the damage is already done."

A knot of cold rage formed in Gary's stomach. "I'm trying to keep this place safe, Mr. Mosche," he spat. "I've got a responsibility to keep."

Boyd scoffed. "Oh, you have a responsibility? To Amnesty Lodge? That's fucking rich."

"You've got one, too! It’s about time you started keeping it!"

They’re both very, very set in their ways and their ideologies, and they take a long time to get to middle ground. 

One of my friends described it as middle child syndrome in overdrive. Gary thinks Boyd’s the Lodge golden child, come to replace him in the Lodge inner circle. Boyd thinks Gary’s the Lodge’s new redemption-arc fixer-upper, come to replace him. And both of them feel thrown off by that, because they both thought that the Lodge was accepting them completely into the inner circle. It’s unfamiliar, it’s confusing, and when the Lodge as a whole regards them both with suspicion/unease (Gary) and polite detachment due to the passage of time (Boyd), it makes them both feel on the outside.

And when you’re in the same shitty canoe, you’ve gotta row it or sink. So that’s exactly what they do. 

Ultimately, they get faced down with bigger and worse foes that snap them out of their spat, because their common interest is “keeping the Lodge safe” and uniting will help them get there. When they do start to have each other’s backs, though, that’s when they reluctantly start to get to know each other. Gary feels like something’s off about Boyd and eventually suspects - thanks to some comments from Haynes and some digging of his own - that Boyd had something to do with the fire that burned down Aubrey’s house, but it remains to be seen what he’ll do with that information. (The Gary of November 2018 would have turned Boyd in to the FBI. The Gary of almost six months later, though… a different story. It’ll be interesting.)

The kicker is, they’re both really similar, at the heart of it. Both of them were the Lodge’s fix-em-up pet projects, brought into the fold in an emergency and protected/cared for as long as they swore to clean up their act. They see each other and feel a bit out-of-place, though - something contributed to by the way the Lodge treats them.

Gary’s still held at a distance by many, despite being Duck’s cousin and a mostly-valuable member of the team, because the stench of the FBI is still on him - how he dresses, how he walks and talks, how he acts. And Boyd has just swanned back to the Lodge after 20 years gone, with all his memories of the Lodge from back in ‘98 driven back into his mind - and part of him is expecting the Lodge to be the exact same way it was when he left. But it’s not. You can’t go home again. The Lodge has moved on without him, which he never expected, and coming back to them is… awkward.

It’s simple. They don’t know what to do with a version of Boyd who’s missed the past 20 years of their lives; Boyd doesn’t know what to do with people who have changed from the folks he knew 20 years ago. He’s lost, floating, and alienated, like going to a high school reunion after not having spoken to a living soul since graduation. It sucks for him. And the only wholly unfamiliar face there, other than the main Pine Guard - who he’s mostly fine with, except for Ned - is Gary, and he can’t help but be irritated with him. That changes, though.

What I essentially want to do is set these versions of the characters up as foils. Similar characters, similar pasts, similar situations that got them to this point. All that’s different is how far in their respective arcs they are. So I’m going to have them be friends. Give each other a chance in the face of a bigger threat, open up a little more, have conversations, talk about things with each other because they’re the only ones around to listen. The Lodge gave them second chances when they needed them most. Maybe they can do that for each other.

This is also to say, I would be a massive fucking liar if I say I haven’t considered having that unfold into a rivals-to-lovers arc. Yeah, I said it. I’ve considered it, at length and in serious detail, since I started drafting the arcs for TCOS. In fact, that’s what I’m probably going to do. I’ve gotten too hooked by the possibility to give it up. I outlined hypothetical futures for the whole cast after the final battle in Sylvain and, given the things I want to happen in that battle and the messy post-war fallout, it makes sense that these two would gravitate towards each other.

It makes a lot more sense in context, believe me. They’ve got a long row to hoe before they trust each other enough to become friends, or even push the envelope towards a romantic relationship - they’d have months and even YEARS to wait to pull that off. Whatever I end up doing with them, they are easily my favorite part of TCOS to unravel, mostly because I  - and, honestly, everyone else - probably never saw it coming.

Thanks for the ask, anon. This made my week. So sorry for the long response, but I have so many thoughts on what I’m doing with these idiots, and putting them down on paper was really fun. Any other questions or comments about this? Fire away, I’d be more than willing to answer! 

#asks #anon #tcos #if tumblr fucks the formatting and bombards you all with a long-ass post i am SO SORRY #tagging anyway #long post #taz amnesty

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.62

Lance’s room was a mess when Keith finally got there. He’d run into Coran, blurted out what had just happened, then Allura showed up and he had to repeat himself. Then both of them insisted on accompanying him down to Lance’s room, purely to quiz him on his date with Lance. He felt like he’d been through the ringer, letting himself into Lance’s room without knocking. Lance was currently half in his wardrobe, which had Keith raising his eyebrow

“Babe? You know you’re not going to find Narnia in there”

“Don’t ruin my dreams... and that’s not the problem”

Sitting himself on Lance’s bed, Keith’s cheeks reddened as he tried not to stare at Lance’s butt. He’d definitely been dick deep in there and that he could fit up there was still kind of a miracle

“What’s the problem?”

“I knocked over my death soil. You know the stuff Coran put in bed with me”

“Ah...”

He remembered and remembered being told not to clean it up

“Yep. So what brings you by?”

“You said we needed to talk”

Lance stood up so fast he smacked his head on the wardrobe rail, stumbling out and swearing loudly, his hand went to his head

“Motherfucking ow”

“You okay?”

“Yeah... just who puts a rail so damn low?”

“Someone who doesn’t expect someone to be cleaning the bottom of the wardrobe?”

Lance rolled his eyes at him

“That’s obvious. Sorry, I got totally preoccupied trying to clean up. Did you message back?”

“No. I kind of got changed and came here... but I called”

Lance’s lips formed a silent “oh”, his boyfriend dropping down next to Keith and Kosmo as he rubbed his head

“Sorry. I used up all my bravery telling Pidge I was coming back home”

Keith knew this wasn’t Lance’s home, yet wasn’t prepared for the wave of loneliness that the comment brought

“I... yeah. I mean, I saw that”

“It’s not you, it’s me. Well, that sounds even worse than we need to talk. No. What I mean is I can’t hide here forever... and that’s not the only thing we need to talk about”

Keith’s stomach clenched. He’d thought they’d had a good night together. Why was Lance leaving?

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“No. God. No. Didn’t you read all your messages. No. You’re great. It’s me. I feel like... I’m kind of useless here, other than running errands”

Lance abandoned rubbing his head, to wrap his arm around Keith. Keith didn’t know what to say. He knew Lance wasn’t happy... but this felt sudden

“Did I do something to make you feel like this?”

“No. Hey, no. If anything I want to get my life sorted because of you. You are good. Me... I’m just me. I mean, I can work from here, sure, but I kind of miss my house. And Blue misses her freedom... plus... you’re about to be super mad at me”

“What did you do?”

“Um... before you freak out, I’m not going to be in any danger. Allura and Coran offered me a pity mission. I kind of think they’ve run out of things for me to do”

Keith went stiff. He felt ready to snap, anger bubbling when he didn’t know the full story. Strained, he asked

“What do you mean?”

“I think... Okay. So, Allura and Coran mentioned that Lotor was a bit too showy. I think she wants you guys to take Lotor out for a night so we know where he is, while her and I snoop around”

And Keith snapped. How could Lance be so stupid?

“And you agreed didn’t you?! I was just threaded by one of his generals. This isn’t a game Lance”

Lance cringed, withdrawing his arm from around Keith’s waist, mumbling

“I know”

“You obviously don’t know if you’re putting yourself in”

“I know. I told them I was going to talk with you”

“But you’ve already decided!”

Kosmo whimpered at Keith snapping. Patting his puppy, he felt stupid for these anger issues... But he also felt he wasn’t strong enough to see Lance hurt again... Standing, Lance walked over stand in front of the wardrobe. Hugging himself, Keith knew he should be relieved that at least Lance wasn’t turning his back on him

“Look. I know you’re mad. I know. I’m not part of your hunter world... but... I’ve been out with Allura before. Sure, years ago and all that... I’m going to be safe. Coran was really good about my scent, like he’s going to find a way to make me smell normal”

Lance’s words hung in the air. Lance wasn’t normal. He was a vampire and a breeder, but that was easy to forget when he was with him. He felt like Lance not having his scent was taking away a part of him... though it would make things safer if everyone thought him a normal vampire. He knew he couldn’t protect Lance all the time, and this boyfriend didn’t want him to. Lance had the right to agree do things, even when Keith felt he was doing something really dumb

“I don’t like you not having backup”

“I’ll have Allura. She might not look it, but she’s secretly a total badarse. And... I don’t know. It might be fun? I know it’s serious, but Allura is here all the time. She hardly ever gets to go out and I know we’re there to gather information, but I want to do something nice for her too”

Jealousy poked its ugly head up. Lance wanted to do something nice for Allura. He was being stupid. Allura had known Lance for years. If anything was going to happen it would have by now

“Do you know when and where you’re going?”

“Nope. Coran and Allura only filled me in when I came back. I think they were more concerned with our date instead of setting a date”

“Did you tell them?”

“What?”

“About our date?”

How he’d messed up more than once

“No. But not because it was bad or anything like that... I just... last night felt special and I totally wanted to brag, but at the same time I didn’t want to share that. I wanted to keep those memories between us... if that makes sense. Honestly if I hadn’t just smacked myself stupid I would have still been waiting to wake up”

Keith took a deep breath, forcing himself to then slowly exhale. He was overreacting. He was overreacting. Lance wasn’t going to come home covered in blood. He wasn’t leaving because he’d messed up. He was leaving because he wanted to work things out. He hadn’t pushed him away or hurt him. He wasn’t leaving him

“Keith? Babe? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t...”

Lance stepped back near the bed, kneeling before him. Placing his hands on Keith’s knees, Lance gave him a wonky smile

“You’ve got issues. Look. I’m not looking for a fight or for trouble. I don’t want to get hurt and I sure as heck don’t want to hurt you. It’s because you are so fucking good to me that I feel like... I feel like I can face going back. I want to spend maybe another week until I go back... maybe head down for a day or two... see if I’m up to it?”

Keith nodded

“I could come?”

“I know you could, but I think I have to do this for myself. Believe it or not, I used to be a semi-functional adult”

Keith’s smiled was barely on his lips, yet Lance knew it was still there. This situation sucked but fighting with Lance sucked more

“I don’t know I can’t believe that”

“I’ve got degrees to prove it. I would have the crippling student debt too if it wasn’t due to part scholarships and this place. And Mami and Papi, they made college possible the first time around”

“I thought you didn’t like people knowing you were secretly smart?”

“My family was poor. You did what you had to. They’d already put four of into college, so I had to be the best I could be. Plus, the thought of getting some kind of penance for being a monster was a major driving factor”

“You’re not a monster”

“I am... and I think I’m starting to really be okay with it. I’ll never be okay with leaving people behind, but I feel like maybe I might be okay looking at myself in the mirror or photos... I want to see what you see when you see me”

Keith saw Lance for Lance. He saw all the times he plastered a fake smile on his face and now that they were dating he’d seen him being more open and relying on him. He’d become better at talking about being a vampire. Better at admitting things weren’t perfect or he wasn’t feeling great. Keith wasn’t sure he could say the same. Shiro had said he was more open. Then again, being in a place that didn’t treat him as “Shiro’s kid brother” or “Krolia’s son” made him feel like he was standing more on his own two feet. He hadn’t made any embarrassing bungles like his first lead mission to kill Lance... He liked it here. He liked the gym not being full of werewolves or other hunters casting him looks he couldn’t decipher.

“I get it. I mean. I get this place. I was angry that Shiro transferred us without asking. And I know my schedule isn’t the best. I like being here and part of being here, a big part of being here is because of you. I’m not good with friends and any kind of relationship with people... but I miss Pidge and Hunk. I know I was the new friend, but you guys...”

“I know it hurts you. That’s why I need to start moving forward again and figuring this out. I know things might be over, yet there’s this part of me that just thinks if I can talk to Pidge then maybe it won’t be. I’ve had friends before, but Pidge is like a sister to me and Hunk... he’s the... he’s the best. I miss being home. I miss having everyone over. I miss having to endure Pidge on a rant and Hunk’s baking like a mad man when he’s stressed out. They were the best thing in my life until you came along”

“I’m nothing special”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You make me go all stupid and I can’t think straight, and sometimes I want to shake you, but you’re like no one I’ve ever met”

“Usually that’s not a good thing”

Keith felt like he was testing Lance and he didn’t know why. He had nothing to be jealous of... other than Lance being further away and back in a life that he only had glimpses of... He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Maybe it was Narti’s words on his mind. About being too close to see the big picture...

“It is. I know you noticed. I know you noticed I have no photos of me up at home. And most of the mirrors in my house are smashed because I couldn’t... I couldn’t cope with seeing myself. For so long I thought... that I didn’t ever deserve anything good. I still don’t know if I do. I’ve done some shit in my past that I can’t ever forget... and no matter how many times I go to church, I feel every part of this sinner’s body. I have PTS and anxiety. I have nightmares and sometimes I wake up full vampire mode ready to tear the throat out of anything close... but I think... things haven’t been as hard because I finally have someone who I don’t have to hide from. You did this to me. You and your damn mullet”

Keith flushed red. He’d pushed Lance into saying what he wanted to hear and it felt kind of good and kind of hollow at the same time

“It’s not a mullet”

“It totally is. I know you’re worried but if I can help bring an end to these murders, then I have to help. Even if it’s for a selfish reason like spending more time with you and not because we have more than on psychopath out there killing supernatural people for whatever sick thing is in their heads”

Lance could easily be one of those that ended up dead... He would help a serial killer if it meant making them feel better... or more likely he’d be oblivious all obvious signs and then spend months still trying to process how he’d missed it

“I can’t cope with you being hurt”

“That’s why I’m not going to be alone or let myself be in a situation where I am. You need to teach me what you know, then maybe we work this out together”

“This isn’t your world”

“It is when it endangers the people I care about. Let’s put all that aside for now. Seeing you’re here, you can help me clean up”

“Can... we maybe just cuddle for a bit? I... think I just need that right now”

Lance beamed at him

“Of course we can. I’m like totally made for cuddles”

“You’re cold and boney”

“But I’m warm where it matters”

Lance shot him double finger guns. Keith only able to groan at the vampire. He was setting such a bad example for their fur son. No wonder Kosmo walked all over him, Lance did too... yet he didn’t really mind at all.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid

[tarlosprompts]

Self-Destruct

Person A: “Why me?”

Person B: “What?”

Person A: “You could have had anyone, so why me?”

Person B: “.....Because you’re the only one I want, you always have been.... Is that really so hard to believe?”

Warnings: past drug addiction, past overdose, drug house, high teens, mild violence

Also, some of my information my not be correct in the drug world, so sorry.

Shout out to @write-it-motherfuckers​ for the prompt, I saw it when scrolling through my feed.

-Red💋

Part 2

TK Strand loved his job. He loved his job and the people he got to work with. Hell, he’d met the love of his life through his job. Officer Carlos Reyes. The Latino man was perfect in every way and TK was quite sure he didn’t deserve him most days...okay, so all of the time, but he wouldn’t be admitting that any time soon.

That’s why TK was in this funk and had been for the past few days. Thankfully Carlos and he had opposing shifts meaning that he hadn’t had to confront the man in this sour mood. Bad news, his crew had to deal with him. His father was giving him space, but he was pretty sure that if he kept up with his attitude, his dad would pull him aside to have a chat and TK definitely didn’t want that. Judd had tried to talk to him a couple of hours into the shift on his third day of being in the funk.

To say he’d bitten Judd’s head off would be an understatement. TK felt horrible about it. Judd cared about him, and he’d thrown it back in his face. This was further proof that he was undeserving of not only Carlos, but everyone around him. He fucked everything up constantly. 

Mateo and Marjan had both tried to talk to him subtly about his funk, but TK was having none of that. At the last minute, TK had been able to bite his tongue and walk away so as to not tear his teammates apart. The look on his face must have portrayed his annoyance and funk because none of the other firefighters approached him. He’d even caught a few going out of their way to stay as far away from him as possible.

The only person he could stand to be around at this point was Buttercup, the damn dog he said he wouldn’t let in because he wouldn’t be able to handle losing the dog to the same sickness his father had. He told Buttercup everything, muttered it into the brown fur, shed a couple of tears and locked it up again.

TK shook his hands out as the alarm blared. He was utterly professional on calls. He wouldn’t let his troubles fuck up someone else’s life. The ride to the call was quiet other than the rattling of the truck.

Upon arriving at the scene, TK felt his stomach drop as he got a good look at the people surrounding the house. He felt his lips form a thin line as his dad talked to the police Sergeant in charge of the scene. As Owen made it back over, TK could see the pinch at his eyes. “Drug bust gone wrong. This was half a stash house, half hideout for people to get high. Multiple injuries inside and outside. We were called to extract a couple of teens who fell through the floor near the back of the house.”

TK didn’t wait for a command, going over to the truck to grab harnesses that would be used to lower him and someone else down to get the two teens. As he began to harness up, a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to see his dad giving him a look he knew too well. It was the look that said that he didn’t want to bring up his addiction but he was worried. “TK-”

“I can do my job. Just because this was a house full of junkies and I used to be one doesn’t mean I’m going to go home and relapse. You can’t keep me from doing my job every time it hits a little too close for home,” TK growled, shoving the second harness to Marjan. “This is the one part of the job I’m good at, rescuing people who got in over their head. So can you not act like a concerned father and act like a Captain who knows who on his team is best suited for what?”

“As your Captain, I should even have let you out of the firehouse with the way you’ve been acting today,” Owen’s eyes narrowed.

“Well you did, so at least let me do something I’m good at.”

____________

Before long, TK and Marjan were being lowered into the hole made by the teenagers falling through the floor. They hadn’t been able to talk with the teens, so each were paired with a dose of Narcan in case the teens had overdosed after the floor collapsed. 

TK and Marjan scanned their flashlights around the room slowly. “Fire Department! Call out so we know where you are,” TK called. Hearing something to his right, he turned just in time to have something collide with his head. “Fuck...Marj?”

“I don’t see them. They just disappeared in the dark. Are you alright?”

“I’m good,” he grumbled as he stood, eyes darting through the shadows. That answered a few questions on what the kids could have taken. Whatever it was, was probably causing hallucinations. The lashing out is because they were scared of whatever they were seeing due to the drug. “They’re not trying to hurt us. They’re scared,” he called. 

“But we’re trying to help them,” Marjan stated.

“Yes, but the drug isn’t letting them understand that. All they know is that they fell through the floor and are probably in pain. Whatever they took probably has hallucinogenic properties which is why they’re lashing out...because they want to protect themselves. One of them is probably too hurt to move which is fueling the hallucination and their need to protect.”

“What’s going on down there,” their radios crackled.

TK heard Marjan respond, but he was too focused on the pipe coming straight towards his face. He barely got his hands up before the pipe hit him. He grunted, grabbing hold of the pipe and yanking it towards him. A shaggy brunette just a couple of inches taller than him staggered forward. “You won’t hurt him,” he growled.

“I don’t want to hurt your friend. I want to help,” he had to get a read on how strung out the kid was. As the kid continued to fight against him, TK’s answer was clear. Too strung out to reason with. “Marj, be careful, but look for the other teen. I’ve got this one.”

“You sure?”

“Marjan,” he shouted, getting her into motion.

Taking a punch to the face, TK muttered to himself as he stumbled back. He caught the next punch, returning the favor with one of his own while simultaneously taking the teen to his knees. He used the momentum to push the kid to the ground and put his body weight to use trying to keep the guy down. He got an elbow to the jaw for his troubles, immediately feeling blood start to enter his mouth from the split lip the elbow caused.

As much as TK wanted to ram the kid’s head into the cement below them, he refrained. This was just a strung out kid, he didn’t know what he was doing. He kept the mantra ‘this is just a kid’ even as the kid brought his head back to headbutt him. 

A couple of minutes later had Marjan returning with the injured teen and TK sitting beside an unconscious teen. She rose an eyebrow at him and he glared. “There was no reasoning with him. I thought he’d stop after the first couple of times I hit him, but he kept going.”

He stood, holding on tightly to the unconscious teen as Marjan radioed the team that they were ready to come topside. The looks he got from the three remaining team members further soured his mood. He rolled his eyes as Michelle took the teen from him. “You got all of that,” Judd pointed to his face, “from that green bean?”

TK felt his eye twitch, but he bit his tongue, turning around and stalking out of the house. He ignored the look on his dad’s face as he passed him. The ride back to the station was even quieter than the ride to the house. He couldn’t wait to get a shower to wash off the aches, blood, and memories. 

Before TK could run off to the showers, he was stopped by his dad. “TK, a word?”

“Can I shower first?”

Owen’s face said that it wasn’t an option. TK felt the nervous energy that coated his body. He needed a shower or he was going to explode and really fuck everything up. “I need a shower then we can talk,” TK’s voice shook with the strain of keeping the memories from overtaking him. The memories of the times he was in a hideout with his friends getting higher than the sun. Memories of being too doped out of his mind to stop his friend from overdosing. Memories of the highs.

“Your behavior for the past few days has been unacceptable, TK. We need to talk now.”

Something snapped, and it all came tumbling out. Everything he wanted to keep hidden from his dad and team...from Carlos. “From the way I’ve been acting I should have been fired days ago,” he shouted, turning away from his team. “Every time I think I have something-every time I think I’m going to be good or my life is good I go and I fuck it up! First it was with drugs, I started using and hasn’t that fucked me up enough,” he laughed, beginning to pace.

“And-And every time I think I have myself together, you all just walk on eggshells around me. Ever since I told you about my addiction, you walk on eggshells and Dad, you’ve done that since you found out about my addiction! It drives me mad because I’m not some breakable teen who will relapse at the wrong word out of your mouths! And to hell if I don’t think about using every once in a while, but I never do anything about it because I’m doing so good. And then I’m not doing good and I’m wondering how any of you can see me-how any of you can like this,” he motioned to himself, “to me.”

“Every time something good comes into my life, it gets taken away and I’m just waiting for this to slip from my grip too. I loved a man, was willing to give my all to him, was willing to marry him and the night I wanted to propose to him, he told me he was in love with someone else and had been cheating on me for months. He slipped through my fingers and I fucking relapsed like a child and I died on you,” he looked at Owen, but he turned back to his pacing just as quickly as he’d stopped.

“I didn’t like the firehouse in New York. We weren’t a family, not like this. I wasn’t scared of losing them. I’m scared of losing all of you. I’m afraid of fucking up so badly that I lose all of you and I can’t stop fucking thinking about it. And that makes me wonder how anyone can be happy with me around. How can anyone love me the way I love them? How can someone love a fuck up like me? A former junkie? An addict? Someone who has to struggle every day with his addiction because he was stupid enough to get addicted to drugs. I don’t deserve any of you and you all deserve so much better,” his voice was quiet as he finished his rant. He ran a hand down his face, scrubbing the tears that had fallen. “I really need that shower.”

____________

TK had skipped the shower. He’d snuck out through the back and started to walk home. He’d spilled all of his thoughts just because a call had brought up a few bad memories. He wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have a job to come back to come tomorrow. 

TK didn’t know where he was going. He only had one thought, and that was to get out of his head. He couldn’t take it anymore. The more he thought about how he’d screwed up, the more he thinks of his fuck ups, the more he gets that itch to use. He fucking refused to relapse. 

That’s how TK found himself staring at the door in front of him. The Camero in front suggested that Carlos was home. Before he knew it, he was knocking. He bit his lip, starting to back away from the door as it began to open. Before he could turn tail and run, Carlos was calling his name. “Tyler? Aren’t you supposed to be on shift?”

TK slowly turned around, noticing how Carlos’s eyes trailed over his face and how his frown deepened. Carlos gently pulled TK into the house, sitting him on the couch before going to retrieve the first aid kit. He returned in a matter of seconds, crouching in front of TK and starting to clean up his wounds. The look in TK’s eyes scared him, if he was being honest. 

They didn’t talk as Carlos cleaned up the blood from the split lip. But as Carlos began to stand up and go to put the kit back up, TK spoke. “Why me,” his voice was so quiet, Carlos almost thought he imagined his voice.

The way TK pointedly didn’t look at him was all the proof Carlos needed to know that TK had spoken. “What do you mean?”

“You could have had anyone, why me?”

Carlos was back to crouching in front of TK, trying to get him to meet his eyes. Finally, he placed his hands on either side of TK’s face, making him look at him. “Because you’re the one I want, Tyler, you always have been.” He bit his lip as he saw the look of doubt in TK’s eyes. “Is that really so hard to believe, Tyler Kennedy? I love you so much it hurts. I want to have everything with you because I love you. If it takes me the rest of my life trying to prove it to you, I will. You mean everything to me. Mi Mundo, mi sol, I love you and I always will.”

#prompt fill #by red #Tarlos #Tarlos relationship #tw: violence #tw: drug addiction #tw: drugs #tw: past trauma #tk strand x carlos reyes #carlos reyes x tk strand #tk x carlos #carlos x tk #fire fam #tk strand x fire fam #found family #911: lone star #9-1-1: lone star #9-1-1 #owen strand #tk strand #carlos reyes #judd ryder #marjan marwani #mateo chavez

[iwakurodai]

Clumsy | Stanley Uris

not requested, I’m just procrastinating the 15 books I’ve started and the second part to Angel. That shit is hard my friends. But enjoy this while I’m in the mood. Won’t be very long tbh. It’s mostly dialogue and suspicious Stan.

warnings; cursing, bruises, clumsiness

pairing; Stan x reader, unidentified gender

Slamming his book shut, Stanley rips his binoculars from his bag and raises them to his eyes. Searching for the bird he heard that caused him to freak out. It was a rare one, only seen in winter. Snow was building up around him, he found it hard to find a good place to sit and bird watch. But, he brought a blanket, folded it up, and sat on it to keep his pants from getting dirty and wet. 

“Motherfucker! Stupid fucking snow!” 

Stanley lowers his binoculars watching as the bird flies away at the sound of yelling. He sighs, annoyed. No one can keep quiet for two minutes in this town, it was hard enough being somewhat friends with Richie Tozier. Turning in his seat, Stanley glances around him. He finds a person, bundled up in a thick sweater, leather jacket, a scarf and jeans with the cuffs rolled up. They were hiding their face with their hand. They were walking towards him. 

He was sitting at the only free bench in the park. The others were covered a foot high with snow, it was obvious they were going to take the chance to sit down. Stanley grabs his bag next to him and stuffs his binoculars in it. Gripping his book in his hands, he opens it, hoping that it would help him avoid small talk. 

“Can I sit here?” They ask as they near, dropping their hand from their face. Stan glances up, eyes widening at the sight of a purple and blue bruise adorned around their eye. “Wow, didn’t know my beauty would spark that kind of reaction but seriously man, can I sit? My heads been killing me for the past thirty minutes,” They smirk, rubbing the back of their head. Stan clears his throat, nodding before turning back to his book. 

“You’re Stan Uris, right?” Stan nods again, hoping the kid would just leave him alone so he could go back to finding winter birds. “You’re in my physics class, you’re pretty smart. Greta says that you look at bird to find the perfect ones to kill and use the bones as toothpicks,” They confess. 

Stanley closes his eyes, praying to God that the kid would stop talking about rumors that everyone seems to believe. 

“I never believed ‘em though.” Or maybe not. 

Stan glances over at the kid again, taking note at how they didn’t stray from their stare at the frozen fountain in the middle. 

“Greta also said that Eddie Kaspbrak smokes weed under the football bleachers with Richie Tozier. But, I’ve never seen Eddie near the bleaches when we do that,” They continue. “I think Richie told him to stay away from the field during free period.”

“Why are you talking to me?” Stan couldn’t help it. He had to know why this kid didn’t just go on their merry way. Instead, they just sat down and decided to make conversation with some loner loser with a bird book. This time, the stranger finally looks at them. 

“You seem like you needed a friend. I know your little group of losers disbanded a couple years ago when Bill bolted. Seems like Eddie and Richie stayed together, but you… you became all alone,” They explain. Stan back up slightly, taking a little offense to their words. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean that, it seems like you don’t know where to go from here.”

Stan shuts his book, turning to face them directly. “What do you want? I mean, you can’t just be here cause I looked like I needed a friend. I mean, I don’t even know your name!” Stanley exclaims, brows scrunched to the middle of his face. 

The stranger just smiles. “Damn, didn’t expect Uris to snap back. I guess you are just as sassy as Richie described you,” They chuckle, facing the fountain again. But, Stanley still watches them. “And yes, I did just come over here because you looked lonely. That’s all there is to it. No one put me up to this. It was just me.” Stan scoffs as they speak. “By the way, my name is (y/n).”

(Y/n). He had heard the name before, just not a lot. Oh yes, the one who started a fight with Mrs. Roster because she wasn’t actually teaching. And who picked a fight with Greta Bowie for spreading a rumor about them losing their virginity to a Bowers’ gang member in middle school… in a church. It didn’t happen, and Stan didn’t believe so. No one wanted to get near them let alone have sex with one willingly. 

“Oh.”

“Yea, ‘oh’.” 

“Why have I heard stuff about you but not seen your face?” Stan asks, not wanting to keep in the awkward silence anymore. He was interested now. 

“I don’t know…” They mutter, crossing their arms and leaning on their knees. “Maybe you’re not as observant as you think you are?” They look over at Stan, giving a small smirk before returning their gaze to the white ground. 

Stan’s stare doesn’t waver from their face. He racks his brain, trying to figure out where he has seen them before but he keeps coming up empty. They seemed so familiar, like a memory Stan buried deep and promised to never remember again. 

Stan shakes his head, rubbing his eyes and leaning back on the bench. ‘Forget about it Stanley. It probably wasn’t important anyways.’ His eyes couldn’t help but travel back to them. Another question igniting.  

“You gonna keep staring or ask the questions that’s gnawing at the back of your head?” (Y/n) asks, not moving from their position. Stan sighs, wondering how the hell they knew what he was thinking. 

“How did you get that bruise?” 

“Oh, this one?” They ask, looking straight and tapping their cheek. “I was fighting this kid. He punched me first so... I fought back. You should see him. He’s probably got a broken nose.” They explain, chuckling lightly and shaking their head. Stan’s eyes grow wide and he scoots a bit away from them. (Y/n) glances over to see him clutching his book a bit tighter. (y/n) lets out a laugh. 

“I’m kidding! It’s a joke! Calm down, buddy,” (y/n) holds their hand out. Taking in a deep breath, they open their mouth. “I… ran into a pole.”

It was unexpected. Stan was thinking something completely different. He covers his mouth, a grin peeking from under. They glance over at him, smiling at the red in his cheeks that wasn’t from the cold. 

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m clumsy! Sue me!” Stan lets out a laugh. Covering his face as he tries to get the image of them running straight into a pole out of his head. 

“H-how did you m-manage that?” Stan stutters in between chuckles. (Y/n) shakes their head, a grin on their face. 

“I was running from this store owner. He caught me stealing a bag of dog food that I was going to use to feed the strays that live in my area,” They say. “I look behind me for two seconds and next thing I know—BAM—right in the face!” (Y/n) smacks their hands together to mimic it happening. “The shop owner had stopped running after me, thank god. But, I was still on the ground, dog food on my stomach and a painful bruise on my face.”

“That’s amazing!” Stan laughs, pushing his hands away from his face to glance at them. They were biting their lip to keep from laughing. “Please, tell me this is the first time it’s happened.”

They suck in a breath through their teeth, looking at Stan with a sheepish shrug. “When I tell you I’m clumsy, I mean it.” They say. “I mean I’ve broken my arm from falling down the stairs and shit. Honestly, I need to wear bubble wrap at all times at this point.”

Stan chuckles, a memory lighting up his mind. A distant memory, not too far gone but faded.

“Watch the step--and you missed it.”

“Well i'm sorry, Stan the Man! Maybe you should have helped me down instead of watching from the sidelines? Huh? Then maybe I wouldn’t be on the ground right now!” 

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry--here I’ll help you up.”

“Yea, you better--” 

“--Oof!”

“...”

“...”

“Well… I didn’t think this through.”

“N-No you di-- No you didn’t.”

“Calm down, Bird Boy. You sound like Bill.”

“I-I did-didn’t--te-technically this--this is your fault.”

“Calm down, Stan… just… keep me warm.”

“Wo-wouldn’t we be wa-warmer on the ham-hammock?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Stanley.”

“...”

“Okay, but honestly? I was gonna keep quiet but my arm hurts really fucking bad right now and I think its broken.”

Stan raises a hand slowly to his lips, his heart beating out of his chest and he realizes who’s next to him. Glancing over, he sees (y/n) lightly pressing their fingers on the bruise, wincing every time but still doing it afterward. Stan lets out a small smile, knowing that they were the same as they were back then. 

“Do-do you want some ice for that? My house is like… a block and a half away?” Stan offers, wanting to rekindle the completely forgotten relationship. (y/n) snaps their head to Stan before letting out a lopsided smile. 

“Thought you’d never ask!”

Stan bites his lip, hiding the growing grin forming as he packs his bags and starts to lead the reckless and clumsy teen to his home. (y/n) spends the time walking telling stories about their clumsiness and attempting to balance on the curb but, Stan’s thoughts were on the past they had together, not knowing if they remembered but determined to bring it back. 

#stanley uris #stan uris #wyatt oleff #andy bean #it chapter 2 #it chapter 1 #the losers club #imagine #stanley uris x reader #stan uris x reader #the losers club imagine #bruises #clumsiness #cursing #stan uris imagine #stanley uris imagine

[alleiradayne]

Cowboys and Angels

A COCKLES X READER RPF SERIES

Filming for the last season of Supernatural is underway and Y/N, long-time set photographer, finds herself the center of attention for two of her co-workers, Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles. A roller-coaster of emotions ensues over the year as the three of them attempt to balance work, the end of an era, and experimental love.

Epilogue

Summary: Three months later. (A surprise epilogue!) Warnings/Tags: Tooth aching fluff. Characters/Pairings: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins/Reader Word Count: 991 A/N: Once again, please assume everyone involved is consenting and polyamorous. No spouse hate. No wife hate. No Cockles hate. No Misha hate. No hate whatsoever. If you don’t like RPF, don’t read it, and don’t complain to me about it. Update: The oh-so-lovely @atc74 made this stellar aesthetic for me in hopes that it wouldn’t get the Tumblr Ban Hammer™. Let’s test it.

"Y/N! It's here!"

She sat up as Jensen rounded into the living room. He brandished a large packet envelope as though he held up a triumphant trophy. From his kitchen, Misha joined them, a questionable look clouding his otherwise pretty face.

"Is that—"

Y/N launched from the couch as she reached for the envelope. "The EW shoot!"

"Hey, now," Jensen said as he held it out of her reach. "No need to get grabby."

"Just open it!" she exclaimed. "I'm dying to see how it came out! I've been stressing about it since last summer."

Last summer. The memory flooded her mind as though it were only yesterday.

Malibu. Sun and sky. Three of the hottest men she had ever had the privilege to photograph. And one damn fine car.

The rip of the envelope returned her thoughts to the present. Jensen removed two magazines, held them out at arm’s length, and grimaced. "I dunno, Y/N. I look kinda old."

"You are kinda old," Misha teased. "Show her before she passes out."

He grinned as he turned the magazines over and showed her. One bore all three men, Misha and Jared side by side as they crowded over Jensen, all three smiling their beautifully soft smiles. The other bore Jensen and Jared, brothers beyond blood.

"Oh," she sighed, "they're perfect. Oh my god, they're wonderful." Unbidden tears filled her eyes as she grasped one and opened it. In a few pages, she found the article accompanied by her photographs, and then the tears flowed freely.

Jensen had found it, too, eyes redder than he would ever admit. "They used it."

"They did," she said as she covered her mouth.

Misha shuffled near and hovered over her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "It says more than any words ever could."

"It does. And I'm glad I caught the moment," Y/N said. "I almost didn't. Everything was happening so fast, with the champagne and…"

A sniffle drew her up short. She looked to Jensen and found him staring at the same picture, tears streaming down his cheeks. When he saw that he'd been caught, he wiped at his face and snapped the magazine closed. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!" she declared through a laugh.

He half turned from them, the heel of his hand fervently rubbing at his eyes and a disgruntled sigh heaving his shoulders. “Dammit, I…” he started, but fell quiet. Hand withdrawn, a thousand-mile stare settled on his face, drawn to the large bay window full of sunlight. What, she wondered, did he see there if anything? The tiny knot between his brow and the distant gaze said more than any words could.

Like a moth to the flame, it wasn’t until the heat of him swallowed her whole that she realized she had crossed their living room and slipped under his arm. With hers wrapped around his waist, Jensen held her close about the shoulders. And then Misha’s warmth joined, flush to her back and a hand at her hip.

“To be honest, I never thought this would work,” Jensen stated. “And that scares me. I love you both so much, it’s terrifying.”

Y/N let that sink in a moment. “I didn’t think it would work either. And I love you both, too. And I am so glad we’re together, I can’t imagine not having either of you in my life with the show finished.”

A long silence filled the space between thoughts until Misha spoke. “I knew it would work out. I love you both too much for it to have not worked out.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “Don’t be a dick.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he said, “I’m not. I’m serious. The minute we got to my apartment that first date, I knew you were the woman we had been searching for.”

Still skeptical, Y/N asked, “How so?”

He cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers without a single sign of hesitation. And though her eyes had closed, she felt Jensen’s on them. Despite that, despite the absurdly deviant nature of it all, it felt distinctly normal.

No. Not just normal.

It felt right.

Cool air met her lips as Misha parted from her and he said, “Because of that.”

“… of what?” she repeated.

“You felt it?” he asked. When her eyes narrowed, he said, “Tell me how that felt.”

A cautious look to Jensen found an equally confused quirk to his brow. “It felt… good. Like it always has. I don’t get it.”

Clarity blossomed on Jensen’s softened gaze. “It felt right.”

Right.

“Exactly,” Misha agreed. “That first night, it felt right. Nothing about it felt bad or wrong or taboo, whatever bullshit you want to call it. I’ve never experienced one iota of guilt or shame this entire relationship.” He paused before adding, “Except Christmas, but that was distinctly because we were not with you. That felt wrong.”

“It was awful,” Jensen added. “It felt like a part of us was missing the entire time. I hated it.”

Y/N scoffed as she said, “Trust me, you both more than made up for that.” An unbidden shiver coursed down her spine at the memory. “And I get what you’re both saying. As new as this sort of relationship is for all of us, it’s… easy? I’m not sure how to put it.”

Jensen nodded. “It just feels like everything is in the right place.”

“Like everything’s… organized,” Misha stated as he wrapped his arms around them both once more. “I don’t know, that’s not very romantic. Sorry.”

She settled into their warmth again and drifted off on that familiar current. Then it dawned on her, the perfect thought to punctuate the entire relationship.

“It feels like…”

Her silence lingered long enough that Jensen said, “Go on.”

She held them both closer as she spoke.

“Like the way it ought to be.”

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags, you can ask for that, too!

The Whole Thang:

@atc74  @hannahindie @bevans87  @meganwinchester1999  @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @princessofthefandomrealm  @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs  @canadianspnhunter  @meowmeow-motherfucker  @staycejo1 @hobby27  @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon​ @winchesterprincessbride  @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma​ @keymology​ @sister-winchesters99​ @amanda-teaches​ @amandamdiehl​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @spnbaby-67​

COWBOYS AND ANGELS MASTER LIST ALLEIRADAYNE’S MASTER LIST

#jensen ackles fanfic #misha collins fanfic #jensen x misha #jensen/misha #jensen x misha x reader #jensen/misha/reader #jensen/misha fanfic #cockles #cockles fanfic #cockles/reader fanfic #cockles/reader #cockles x reader #cockles x reader fanfic #alleiradayne writes

[sammysreelreviews]

Counting Down My Top 10 Animated Films Of The Last Decade

Welcome to the beginning of the movie decade lists! Before I start if you wanna know the exact time the next list will be out follow my instagram here! Ok so there were some movies that I left out of this list but loved so I’m gonna let y’all know the runner ups cause I’m just so fucking generous. They are The Boss Baby, Kung Fu Panda 2, Klaus, and Rise of the Guardians. I could’ve easily thrown them on the list but these decade lists are stressing me the fuck out and they’re time consuming! Also, there will be some Pixar movies missing and I DON’T wanna hear any annoying criticisms! This is MY list! ANYWHO here’s my list and I hope you love it as much as I loved watching these films over the last ten years. Enjoy! ***SLIGHT SPOILERS?***

10. Trolls (2016)

Ok ok ok, hear me THE FUCK OUT. Trolls is fucking funny!!! Even I thought the movie was going to be dumb as all hell but by the end my eyes were watering? The music in Trolls makes the movie and there are so many jokes that continuously make me laugh. Ugh I fucking love Trolls cause it always makes me happy so don’t troll me for putting it on my list!

9. Toy Story 3 (2010)

Is it crazy that the third installment in this series is the best? This movie is not only hilarious but like fucking traumatic!? When they all almost died in that incinerator!? And when Andy (John Morris) gave up Woody (Tom Hanks)!?! WHAT THE FUCK! If you can get through Toy Story 3 without crying I’m just letting you know that you’re a fucking demon. 

8. The Lego Movie (2014)

Everything IS awesome in this animated film. Honestly people thought this was going to be dumb but I’m glad they were proven wrong cause I was very excited to see this movie. I saw this in college high (lol throwback to when I smoked weed) with my friend Genna (hi BFF) and it was our first friendship outing! Not only do I love this movie but I love the memories I have from it. Also it’s just hysterical and it’s something you can watch over and over again. Kind of pissed the Academy completely snubbed this.

7. Your Name (2016)

I watched this movie during the past two weeks and my god it truly deserves all the hype it gets. The tale of a boy and a girl body swapping is not only adorable but heartbreaking as hell. This is the first anime film not directed Hayao Miyazaki to earn more than $100 million in Japan! How insane is that?! What I love about Your Name is it really makes you think about all the missed connections you could’ve had. Now that I’m writing about it I really want to watch it again. Go watch it... like now!

6. Wreck it Ralph (2012)

To be honest I only got around to watching this movie a few weeks ago and I’m so happy I did! First of all the animation is just breathtaking you never wanna take your eyes off of it. The tale of Ralph (John C. Reilly) trying to be a good guy and befriending a glitch by the name Vanellope (Sarah Silverman) is not only funny but so heartwarming I was crying at the end. The sequel, Ralph Breaks the Internet, is not as good plot wise but is still tons of fun and left me wanting a third.

5. Coco (2017)

When I saw Coco I literally cried so hard it was embarrassing. At first I was skeptical because sometimes people hype up Pixar movies and then I don’t end up liking them (Frozen, Inside Out, Big Hero 6) so I decided to take the leap and watch Coco and I’m so glad I did. The colors in the movie are so vibrant and I love the atmosphere it creates even though they’re in the land of the dead. On top of that there’s an amazing familial story that would reduce the strongest of men to tears. Ugh, I genuinely love this movie so much and cry every damn time and it also gave us a great Pixar villain.

4. Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

I know it’s number four on my personal list but in reality it’s the best animated film made in the past decade. The animation alone just reels you in and I really wish I saw it in theaters. Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) has become my favorite Spider-Man and I can not wait for a sequel. Before I forget, did anyone else see that twist coming!? I didn’t!

3. The How to Train Your Dragon Franchise (2010-2019)

Ok there was no way in actual hell that I could just pick one of these 3 films like that would break me! The story of how Hiccup (Jay Bruchel) and Toothless became the best of friends and changed peoples minds about dragons is one near and dear to my sappy heart. I honestly think Toothless is the cutest animated animal that has ever been fucking created like how could you not fall in love with him!? When I saw Hidden World in theaters I was sobbing harder than the actual children that were there. I’m so glad that I gave these movies a chance and I’ll be so mad if they don’t get the Oscar they so rightfully deserve in 2020.

2. Tangled (2010)

Rapunzel (Mandy Moore) finally got the update she deserved when Disney debuted their new style of animation with Tangled. Tangled had a budget of $260 million dollars making it the highest budget of an animated film ever. You’re probably wondering why it cost so much money but it’s literally because they needed new technology to create Rapunzel’s hair! Rapunzel is a naive princess but she’s independent and always asking questions which makes her so great. She has the greatest animal companion of all the Disney princesses and Flynn Ryder (Zachary Levi) is not your ordinary Disney prince. Mother Gothel (Donna Murphy) is quite the underrated villain and Mother Knows Best is one of the best Disney villain songs. Tangled is just overall a fantastic film and I wish it got as much praise and buzz as Frozen did.

1. Zootopia (2016)

Zoo. Motherfucking. Topia. One of the best achievements in cinematic history. If you think I’m joking, I’m not. The minute I saw Zootopia I was absolutely obsessed which is funny cause I really don’t like animals. Disney found a way to not only show how systematic racism works but gave us laughs, tears, and a killer mystery to solve! The one scene that never fails to make me laugh is when they’re doing the talent show in the beginning and the cat dances with the jukebox like how can you not just holler!? Zootopia is an example of a perfect animated film and that’s why it’s number fucking one.

#best of the 2010s #best of the decade #anna kendrick #trolls #toy atory #toy story #toy story 3 #the lego movie #your name #zootopia #OUAT #how to train you dragon: the hidden world #HTTYD #toothless #tangled #mandy moore #wreck it ralph #pixar #this is us #into the spiderverse #coco

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #280

“this is the place in our mind with a crooked crown / we came to execute its own perfect shutdown”

Do you have a strong local accent? No. Do you prefer green or red grapes? Red, but either is fine so long as they’re crisp. Can you stand on your hands unassisted? pffff Who was the last person to knock/ring at your door? Pizza guy. How old were you when you last went trick or treating? No idea. Have you ever been bobbing for apples? ”No. That’s a gross game lol you’re dipping your head and mouth into water other people are dipping their head and mouth into.” <<<< This. What’s your most expensive piece of clothing? No clue. What’s the last thing you took a picture of? Guys I actually took a selfie bc for once in my goddamn life, I felt really pretty with the makeup Summer did on me. She's working towards a degree in cosmetology and is so talented with it. What’s the last thing you drew a picture of? A meerkat pup. Have you ever been on a pogo stick? Omg, yes. I got one for I think Christmas one year as a kid and I got SO into it. I learned how to do it really well. Can you down a pint (of anything) in one? Probably not without throwing up. Have you ever been banned from a public place? No. Have you ever been in a newspaper? A couple times, I think. I know once in elementary school for when I was in chorus; we went somewhere for a small Christmas show. Then I believe I was in it for another school thing? Idr. What football team do you support? I don’t care for football or sports in general. What did you want to be when you grew up? My phases included paleontologist, vet, movie director, author, game designer, aaaand I know I’m forgetting one. But my current and long-term goal has been to become a photographer. Being an artist as a free time “job” has always been an aspiration, too. Have you ever tie-dyed your own clothes? In school, yeah. How often do you buy new clothes? Very rarely. Usually just around Christmas or my birthday from gift cards I get. Are you reliable? In some ways yes, in other ways no. Are you proud of yourself? No. If you could ask your future self one question what would it be? If she’s ended up happy. Do you hold grudges? Nah. Do you decorate the outside of your house for Christmas? Mom does pretty much last minute, but only sometimes when looking at the past few years. Can you solve sudoku puzzles? Sure, they’re fun. What’s the most unusual conversation you've ever had? Who knows. Are you much of a gambler? Not at all. I don’t fuck around with money, especially when just $5 makes you feel great. Have you ever been to Disneyland? I’ve been to Disney World. Do you sing in the shower? Very rarely. Almost never now that I don’t play music while I’m in there. As a child did you ever suck your thumb or fingers? I mean probably? I do know I loved my pacifier and was SO upset when Mom’s doctor or someone playfully told me I was gonna have to give it up because my upcoming baby sister would want to steal it, and guess what? Nicole never fucking used a pacifier so I was tilted lmao. What time do you usually go to bed? Lol BRO it can be as early as 7 PM on bad depression days to as late as like, 2-3 AM. I’d say the average time is like… 9:30. What's your favorite animal? MEERKATS hngggggggggggggggg Have you ever been in marching band? No. Do you have any enemies? No? At least I don’t consider anyone to be. Have you ever been a cheerleader? As a kid, Mom wanted me to so I could do something with my sisters, who were actually interested in cheerleading. She certainly didn’t force me to or anything, I just agreed to it despite not being into it. We were with this Christian sports group for a long time doing various sports all the while being taught lessons in Christlikeness. I’ve actually got warm memories of it Did you ever date anyone on the football team? No. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? No, not that I’m against the idea tho. The plushy would just have to be very special to me and also comfortable to hold. How many consecutive days have you ever missed of school? I missed an entire week when I learned about Mom’s cancer. I could barely function. With how much school stressed me, I would NOT have managed. Have you ever been pregnant? No, not in my to-do list. When was the last time you wanted to speak out, but couldn’t? I’m sure it was recently over Facebook; most times, I keep my mouth shut over political things on there that might get me fired up because I’m afraid of confrontation. Are fingerless gloves awesome? I love them. Wore them daily in high school. I still have some of my favorites, though I’m doubtful they still fit my hands… Would you rather be cannibalistic or die in the wilderness? Okay so I’m gonna actually go kinda in-detail, so the squeamish be warned. Realistically, I think I’d choose to die. ESPECIALLY if I was the one expected to kill another person; then, there’s no question. I wouldn’t be able to do it either if I knew the person. If it was some stranger someone else killed and cooked, I don’t know with absolute certainty; starvation really can make animals out of people. I do know for sure I’d vomit. I far more heavily lean into still preferring to die, because I just believe some things aren’t worth living after they’ve been committed. I’d hate myself. I’d rather die feeling clean of conscience. Would you survive on a deserted island? Hell no. Have you dyed your hair eccentric colors in the past? Yeah, I want to do it far more often… What size drink do you usually get at fast food restaurants? Medium, sometimes small. What do you think is the best thing in life? Love, both platonic and romantic. Have you ever sold anything online either on Craigslist, eBay, Amazon, etc.? If not, what is your website of choice like any of the above for buying things? We sold our previous dog over Craigslist, and I sold my iguana there as well. I know Mom has used eBay and Amazon, but idk for what. Have you ever seen an animal give birth? Have you ever had a pet give birth before? I’ve seen old pet cats give birth many times. What is something you want to try to accomplish within the next year? I want a job that I’m content with and can mentally handle. Oh, and I REALLY want to make strong progress on recovering from the muscle atrophy in my legs. What’s the most unusual kind of pizza you’ve ever tried? I have no clue; I’m not that adventurous with pizza or food in general. If you were given the chance to decorate an entire house the way you wanted, with no limit to cost, how would you decorate it? GOTHIC AS A MOTHERFUCKER WELCOME TO THE GOTDAMN ADDAMS FAMILY. What’s one of your favorite things to touch/feel? My cat. :’) How often do you wear tights? Ew, never. Has there ever been anything you’ve become interested in much later than other people? I guess Instagram, but only as a viewer. I don’t have a personal one, just for my photography that I only rarely post. Have you ever had a veggie burger? Yeah, during my vegetarian streak. Burger King’s really aren’t that bad so long as the patty is made well. Do you like candles? Yeah, sure. When was the last time you wore a sports bra? Forever ago when I was doing Wii Fit. Where did you get the shirt you’re currently wearing? I think Hot Topic? It’s an oversized Umbreon shirt. Who last messaged you on Facebook? My friend Summer when we were planning our lil witch photoshoot w/ friends. Who last walked you home? lol you don’t just have someone “walk you home” here. Bundles of homes are way too far and in-between for reasonable walking distance. Did you make any new friends lately? If so, what are their names and how did you meet them? Not really recently, no. Would you rather see your favorite band/artist in concert with 2 other people or have a free $20,000 shopping spree to Walmart? Seeing Ozzy with my mom would be a DREAM, but to be realistic, I’d take the shopping spree pretty damn quickly. $20k? That would do WONDERS for us, especially as we’re about to move into a new place. When was the last time you threw up and why did you? A long time ago when I started a new medication. Do you want revenge on the person who has hurt you the most? … I’m gonna be REAL honest. For the most part, no. But ngl there are times I’m like “I’m gonna work on getting back in shape and become H O T” like a petty bitch lmao this is embarrassing to admit. Has anyone ever claimed that you saved their life? Yes. Did you ever have that near-drowning experience? No. Have you ever performed on stage? For dance, yes, but I never did a solo. Are you a jealous person? Not jealous (usually), but I’ve come to realize I’m a pretty envious piece of shit. Morning person or night person? I’m in my best mood in the morning because I have the “it’s a fresh start” ideology. Then I repeat exactly what I did the day before. :^) Have you ever written a poem for someone? Numerous times. Do you meditate? No, but I wish I could without it only causing more stress. Do you like cranberries that they serve for Thanksgiving? EW I hate cranberries. What don't you understand that frustrates you? Finances. Do you plan on going to college? I’ve tried college three times and dropped out each time. I’m done trying with school. Do you believe the governments hide technology and information from the public? AbsoFUCKINGlutely. Which is your favorite Pokemon? Ninetales! What horror fiction character scares you the most? What’s the name of the villain in the Scream series? Ghostface? I don’t feel like looking it up, but he TERRIFIED me as a kid, and I still think he’s mega creepy. Were you part of the Brownies/Cubs/Scouts/Guides etc? I was in Girl Scouts. Have you ever invented a fairly unique meal or drink? No. Do you have any family secrets? Don’t think so. Do you often read your horoscope? Never. They’re bullshit. Have you ever had a proper Tarot reading? No; also bullshit. Have you ever milked a cow? No. Do you love or hate rollercoasters? They’ve always scared me because I’m afraid of throwing up. Now with how dizzy I get, I absolutely refuse to try one because I WILL faint with all the movement. What’s your favorite sportswear brand? idc Who’s your favorite superhero? Does Deadpool count? Who’s your favorite villain/baddie? If we’re still in the comics/superhero universe, the Joker. Have you ever won a giant-sized cuddly toy from a fair? No. What would you say is your favorite album of all time? Black Rain by Ozzy Osbourne. I fucking adore it; it was my introduction to metal, and still after all this time, every track S L A P S. I deadass played that CD so much that it scratches at a few points. Do you dislike hairy people? lol fuck this question. I’m guessing you’re asking if I find them attractive and not as if people I “dislike” them, but in both cases, it’s no. We’re mammals, who the fuck cares how hairy you are. Do you like your own name? I actually do really like my name. My first one, anyway. Would you ever sign a Prenuptial agreement? NOPE. Want one? You’re gonna have to find someone else willing to, my man. How long has your longest ever phone call been? No less than two hours, but I know more. I have three instances in particular where I talked with either friends or Jason for SO long. Could you ever have an affair with a married person? Hell no. What is your family Christmas like? Nicole comes here so she and I open presents with Mom, then we spend the day at my older sister’s to be with the kids. We also try to squeeze visiting Dad in there the same day, but sometimes it has to be a different one. If you met a genie who offered you three wishes, what would you wish for? (more wishes does not count) Just three is hard… but #1 is indisputably world peace, and then uhhhh the end of poverty and maybe the cure for cancer. I’d have a super hard time picking a third; so many things matter to me. Have you ever had your national flag painted on your face? No, not in my plans. Do you have any strange body things? Well, define “strange,” I guess? Nothing like, really strange. What fairy tale character would you most associate with? Can I be Snow White and attract cute critters like moths to a flame? Also I would 100% take a Good apple. If a loved one was to serenade you, what song would you most like them to sing? It would depend on the person and our bond, really. Is there a cherished song between us? What is our relationship like? There’s no umbrella song I can think of. Is your dad an embarrassing dancer? GUYS!!!!!!!!!!! My sister’s wedding, okay? Father/daughter dance? He actually has MOVES and it was incredible man, never gonna forget that. What if any unusual objects have you swallowed? Nothing, I think. If you were stinking rich, would you only go to places other rich people went? Hell naw, man. There are plenty of great, affordable places in all categories. I could be a millionaire and you’d still see my ass in McDonald’s ordering a burger and fries lmao. Have you ever owned a slinky? My sisters and I had multiple as kids; those were d o p e. Teenage parents, good, bad, or indifferent? An AWFUL idea. A teenager is physically, most likely financially, and mentally unprepared to raise a child properly. It can seriously affect the kid, and of course the parent. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever broken? I’m unsure. Pirate downloads, good or bad? It’s bad… yet plenty (myself included) have/do do it. Democracy, good or bad? Good. It’s very important to me that rule should come from the people’s majority versus a small coalition of rich guys. While the majority is not always right, it seems like the best option to me. Communism, good or bad? Okay so to be totally honest I actually don’t entirely understand what communism outlines. Like I just read multiple definitions and small articles and I’m still kinda like “????”, though judging by the countries listed as those governed by communism, I would guess it’s bad? Have you ever been electrocuted? On an electric fence, but it wasn’t too bad. Have you ever been hit on by someone of the same gender? Yeah. The war in Iraq, good or bad? Get the fuck out of it. To start with, I’m a pretty fierce pacifist, and just… killing and killing and killing for YEARS is so goddamn pointless and is just a massacre. The war in Afganistan, good or bad? jfc ^ Have you ever appeared on YouTube? LET’S NEVER TALK ABOUT THIS lmfao Have you ever eaten anything prepared by a celebrity chef? No,, but that’d be dope. Have you ever been on radio? No. Do you prefer male or female singers voices? ”Their gender doesn’t matter, but their talent does.” <<<< Do you have a list of things to do before your ‘x’ years old? Goals should not be judged by age. I’m bad at this and have to remind myself of it a lot. A goal is a goal regardless of a number. Celebrate for *you*. Are you proud, comfortable or ashamed of your body? Very very much ashamed. Do you know html? Super poorly. Have you ever flown first class? lol hunny What are better, violins or pianos? Violins. How old is your oldest blanket? As old as me. My baby blanket is stored somewhere. Do you take enough vacations? lol hell no. I’ve maybe gone on three vacations in my entire life. Have you ever been sick on your birthday? Yup. Then one time I was recovering from a wicked stomach virus but went to Olive Garden anyway lol. I was fine though, and it’s actually a sweet memory because Jason (he worked there at the time) got the staff to do the whole “happy birthday” thing. I got a bombin’ brownie. Who is your favorite person? Sara and my mom. What do you do to stay healthy? lol you assume I’m healthy. What is your favorite form of exercise? Swimming. Do you like going to church? I never did. As a kid, I would cry when/if Mom decided we were going to mass after Sunday school lmao. It’s always been boring and too long to me, even when I was religious. Have you ever fallen asleep during a sermon? Probably as a kid. Do you like to pray for others? No. I don’t believe anyone hears them or will intervene somehow if I ask anyway. Have you ever witnessed a miracle? No. I don’t think I believe in those anyway. Have you ever been the recipient of a miracle? Definitely not. How did you or whoever come up with the name(s) for your pet(s)? I thought “Roman” was a majestic name for a male cat, and Venus has the coloration that the planet does. Who did you last walk a dog with? Sara and I walked Buster the last time I was there. It was windy as SHIT so we didn’t get far because my ass was absolutely freezing, all the while Sara was used to it. Ride bikes with? Wow, good question. I haven’t ridden a bike in many, many years. Hold hands with? My friend Summer did yesterday when she was trying to reassure me of something. For what reason did you last high five someone? Ryder and Aubree each caught Pokemon in Pokemon GO. :’’’’) I was watching them in the car while my sister/their mom was doing something at work, and they wanted to play it; they’ve come to learn that between my phone and DS, I’m the Pokemon provider, lol. I was the proudest fucking aunt ever bc they did SO GOOD after getting the hang of throwing the ball like Y’ALL. When Ash came back to the car, I gave ‘em each high fives before getting back in. What color and type is your vehicle? Don’t have my own car. Looking to upgrade or add any time soon? I doubt I’ll have my own soon. What animal do you have the most possessions *of*, or featuring? Like, décor or stuffed animals, things like that? Not the actual living creature? Easily meerkats, holy shit do I have a collection. What do you use to wash your dishes? Gain soap. Last thing you measured? Uhhh idk. Last thing you weighed? Myself. Last song you danced to? *shrug* What do you remember from your dream last night? I just remember it was a nightmare about Dad being angry. How old were you when you got your first credit card? Lol I don’t have one. Do you talk to your parent(s) [almost] every day? Mom, yes. Dad, no, because we don’t live together. What does your shampoo and conditioner smell like? I just started using a Dove brand shampoo targeting dandruff, so I don’t think it has a specific smell. I don’t use conditioner, just adds grease to your hair, plus mine is short anyway. Last person to tell you that you smell good? Idk. Last person you told that they smell good? I also don’t know. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I’ve never touched it. Last person you ran into unexpectedly? Ummm idr. How many plants can you see right now? There’re none in my room. Last compliment you received on your appearance? HA On your character/personality? That I was a loving sister. Do you remain friends with anyone you met at your first job? N/A Who have you hugged in the past month? My mom, Summer, sisters, niece and nephew, Dad… Newest musical discovery? 3TEETH is great. Like, I'm obsessed. Their cover of “Pumped Up Kicks” snagged my attention, despite actually being iffy about it at first. Guess what I’m listening to this minute lmao. Last thing you cleaned? A cup. What exactly do you carry around all your stuff in? A purse. What do you carry around, typically? Phone, keys, wallet, hand sanitizer, and my iPod are items of note. Where is your newest scar? It’s on the palm of my left hand from Roman playing with me. Where is your oldest scar? Idk. Last thing you disposed of? The milk carton. What was the last picture someone sent you? Mom sent me a gif from Hocus Pocus to fit the witch photoshoot Summer, her friend, and I did. Did you hear a siren today? No. What do you typically drink? I would rather not pretend I tend to drink soda lmao Last bad news you heard? My aunt’s brother committed suicide a couple days ago. Last good news you heard? I don’t really know. How far away is the closest cinema from your house? It’s like, 15-ish minutes away. Have you ever been to the emergency room? Many times. Are you one of those people who can’t go without their morning coffee? Y’all know me and coffee. But in place, I have my morning Mountain Dew, rip in fucking pieces. Have you ever worn fake eyelashes? No, though I’m honestly curious what I’d look like. Do you know the story of how your parents met? If so, tell me? They were coworkers; that’s all I know. What is your favorite Chinese food? I love pork fried rice. Do you live far from your parents? I live with my Mom. I live around 20 minutes or so away from Dad. What was the last hot food you ate? I’m assuming you mean spicy as opposed to just hot as in temperature. In that case, probably hot wings. Have you ever seen a meteor shower? No. Describe your current position: I’m lying down in bed, just kinda perked up by my two pillows. Have you used a microwave today? Yes; I had a Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl. Do you prefer going out for coffee or brewing your own? N/A Have you consumed caffeine today? If so, in what form? yikes- Do you know anyone who follows a raw vegan diet and lifestyle? Not that I know of. Have you killed a bug this week? Yes; we’re dealing with a lovely mix of gnats and fleas. What was the first food you learned how to cook? Scrambled eggs. Or maybe pancakes with Mom’s assistance. Idr. Do you have a Bachelor’s degree? If so, what in? No. How many email accounts do you have? Two. Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? I like my mom to be with me. How long is your average shower? 15 minutes, maybe? It depends on the routine I feel like doing. When’s the last time you had a headache? Yesterday. What woke you up this morning? I think I woke up naturally? A rare occasion nowadays. Who was the last person you cried in front of? Summer, yesterday.

#survey #quiz #questions #questionnaire

[halitophobia]

Blind Eye - Two

Parings ⟶  OC x Hank’s Daughter! Reader (TEMPORARILY) , RK800! Connor x Hank’s Daughter! Reader (EVENTUALLY)

A/N ⟶ Thank you so, so much for the notes from the first chapter ! Btw, I’m really sorry this is a little late. I’m hoping for late weekly chapters? Every 10ish days or so...(I’ve gotten super busy, but I’m trying my best!)

Disclaimer ⟶ still don't own any characters from DBH

Warnings ⟶ swearing, violence, mentions of death, stubborn reader, stubborn Hank, spoilers...?, slow burn, sLoW bUrN, SLOW BURN, alcohol abuse (Hankster), angst, toxic relationship, eventual....fluff, happiness, cute stuff, flustered Connor, flustered Reader, all the gushy-ness, and ?????smut?????

Word Count ⟶ 3023

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 

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NOV 6th, 2038

AM 12:41:04

"Why'd you kill him?"

"What happened before you took that knife?"

     Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you watch the HK400 through the one-way glass. Your arms are crossed, face still as marble except for the bouncing of your right leg.

"Anderson. Are you cold or having a muscle spasm."

     You blink, glancing down at the one and only Gavin Reed's hands leant on the desk, but as quickly as you do, your eyes are glued back to the window.

"Let's make a bet. Like the good ol' days, yeah?" that same sandpaper voice sounds again, making you frown.

"I say," he pauses, "they had a bromance. Carlos and Andy over here." he gestures to the android. "Carlos brings home this smokin' hot 'robette' babe wanting a steamy, squeaky threesome. Attic boy gets mad and," his right arm comes up, and he stabs the air while pulsing to a beat of 'nn-s, nn-s, nn-s...', "...kills'em." So many things I didn't miss about working here...

     That fowl scent of sweat, old leather, and cheese also known as Gavin wafts your way, and you do your best not to gag. I mean, does this hobo shower? Wash his hands after shitting? A loud bang draws your attention to Hank, who's clearly gotten frustrated.

"Fuck it. I'm outta here." he grumbles, entering the observation room seconds later.

     You slowly clap watching him scowl at you.

"I'm impressed, Pops. You really stated your ground in there." you nod, earning a chuckle from Gavin. "My turn." you smile, and scurry out of the room. You hear Hank's voice yelling at you to come back, but you're already halfway through the door to the interrogation room.

     The droid doesn't move an inch as you shut the door behind you. You grin, feeling a wave of déjà vu wash over you. You've done this plenty of times before. How hard can a life-sized moving Barbie doll be?

"Alright, you piece o' shit." you can physically sense your father slapping his face behind the glass.

"I'm gonna jump right into it, okay? Okay." you drop yourself into the chair across from it, leaning back and crossing your arms and legs. "I don't know how it works in your...command center up there, but you gotta tell us what happened."

     You watch it avoid your gaze. A painful silence dances around you, only to make your skin crawl with frustration. You swing your leg back over and let it drop below you. Your arms come onto the table and you lean down, to get into its view.

"Pssst. I'm not leaving until you spill." you whisper, staring into its eyes even though it doesn't return the contact. You push back abruptly and revert to a normal volume, "So we can just skip all this," you motion between the both of you, "and you can obey, like a good little bot."

     Immediately, you see the change of energy from the suspect. Your brows lift, amused at the reaction. "Oh? Not into the whole submissive thing? I can see you got mad there. If that's even possible."

     It shifts again, seeming to get more worked up. This is perfect, you just need to push it around. No better way to let off some steam.

"You wrote 'I AM ALIVE' on the wall, like a jewelled crown atop Ortiz's lifeless head. That's what he said to make you upset, right? You were quoting him? Because, well...I mean, how on earth could you think of that? You aren't capable of...thinking for yourself." you wait, and decide to amp it up. "For all we know, that man was innocent. Just enjoying his life, wanting...a friend? And you come along? To do what? To stab him."

     There's a warning knock from the other side of the glass. You brush it off and examine the android. Chest heaving, hands clenched and jaw rippling. The lips on its face quiver, words just waiting to break the dam. And without looking back, you chimmy-changa your way across the line.

"Twenty. Eight. Times."

     You hear the tapping once again, more urgent, but still, you ignore it. Can you shut up? You're a millisecond away from confession and they choose to cut you know? Your old man probably wants to slip in and take credit.

     You're brought back to your senses as you watch the scene in front of you. The battered automaton is now writhing under the chords which bolt is slowly lifting off the table. "Hey, hey, hey. No need to cause a scene. Suck it up, and tell me wh-" your vision goes black. Well fuck me...

     The second your sight leaves, it's back but doubled. Your forehead throbs, as if a pump were behind your eyes. That motherfucking thing head-butted you. You can't help the weight sloshing around your brain, making your head pound harder. You move to stand, but stumble into the wall behind you. Get. Up.

     You feel arms hook under yours, and start to get dragged towards the door. "Get off of me!" you snap.

     Your view seeps back into HD and you ignore the sting in your head. "I'm fine! Let me finish this!" your voice is a harsh growl, and you lash around in the person's grasp.

Who is this anyway?

     Then you smell it. Oh. Reed tightens his grip, practically lifting you from your waist, and before you know it, your dropped into a computer chair facing the interrogation room. Just as you start to collect yourself, another smack is planted on your skull.

Okay what the fuck.

"Ow."

     An ice pack falls off your shoulder and into your lap. Wow, do I get a massage too?

"Nice going, Y/N." Hank spits.

     You roll your eyes, pressing them into the ice pack. With your voice muffled, you reply with 'thank you'.

"No, I really mean it. You just jeopardized this whole cross-examination. You brought that thing near to self-destruction!"

     Your brain is hoola-hooping within your skull and this ancient dick lecturing you is just hollering encouragement.

"Y/N, take this seriously. You really fucked up." Gavin chimes in.

Oh give me a break.

     You groan loudly, hoping it'll make them stop. You really don't need this. You just need five quiet minutes, and you can go back in and get that confession. Easy-peasy.

"Earth to Y/N. You may have been bumped in there, but I know damn-well you can hear me." Hank aggressively taps your shoulder and the water in the pot just boils away.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

     You're fully turned around, eyes ablaze with fire. You're cooking both men alive from your eyes and the pain from your head disappears for a moment. A silent breath escapes your parted lips, and you almost whisper.

"Will you, shut up."

     The air is thick as fog. Your sight clogged with angry-exhaustion, their's with vigilance, for they now tread on very thin ice.

"My name is Conner, what about you. What's your name?"

You're. KIDDING.

     Spinning your chair right around, you're faced with an image of pure disaster. Sir Smiley-Bot is seated across from the HK400.

"You let the fucking android interrogate the fucking android!"

     It hasn't even been twenty minutes and for the second time, you're blood is racing around your body like a jet. Running circuits in and out of your shrinking heart. Does no one have common sense in this fucking facility?

"What do we have to lose, Y/N. You've already ruined a proper examination, what's so different in sending in the thing?"

     Hank's voice destroys every sense of calm in your veins. You're going fucking bonkers now. It's like they worship this brown-haired robot. Prancing around its steel feet, praying to the android gods above. You've come to a conclusion; you are officially the only sane human in this police division. Everyone's brains are being melted by the second and they'll all just become slaves for the androids. Yup, I’ve solved the case.

"Shh, shh, shut up. Listen." Gavin lays his hand on your right shoulder, which you quickly brush off.

"I was fucking breathing."

     He replies with a grimy finger to his lips, staring forward. You sulk in the chair, intertwining your fingers atop the desk. The ice pack is balanced on your head and you stare forward. King-Droid seems to be calming the defendant down. Seriously?

"I could have easily calmed the thing down, this isn't all that fantastic." you scoff, adjusting the cooling pack.

     Hank flicks your head in response. It sure shuts you up. I am getting favoured over a bottle cap. I leave for one year and all of Detroit's been fucked in the ass by Alexa, Google Home, and Cortana at the same time. This is absolute bullshit. Choosing these things? Over trusted humans? This is surely humanity's last stra-

"No!"

...come again?

"No, please don't do that!"

     All three of you are now leant toward the glass, your nose virtually pressed on it. All that stupid popcan had to do was threaten to probe its memory ooooh spooky!

"What..."

     A beautifully awkward sound of leather, wood, and the chair squeal in harmony as your trio incline forward again. If it weren't for the one-way glass, there would be three sources of breath in their own designated spots.

"What are they going to do to me?"

Baby bye, bye, bye, BYE BYE.

"They're going to destroy me, aren't they?" its voice is in a panicked hiss.

Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

"They're going to disassemble you to look for problems in your biocomponents. They have no choice if they want to understand what happened."

     This goes on for a little while, the honoured golem teetering between comfort and warning. You just watch soundlessly, intrigued for the outcome. Cold droplets trickle down your neckline, for the pack on your head had started to melt. You can't resist the urge to shiver, swiftly wiping away the excess water.

     Your attention is slowly dispersing and you're starting to lose interest. You notice your stomach grumble - right, you'd forgotten to eat before all of this. Come to think of it, you're starving. Your gut agrees and wails to you again.

"Shh!" Gavin jeers.

Oh please.

     You start to lift onto your feet, wanting to grab a snack, but are interrupted by a voice that has been heard to the very minimal. Seriously though, vending machine cashews would kill right about now...

"He tortured me everyday..."

     Your ass is stapled back into the chair, holding your tongue as its mouth finally starts to move. You listen intently, watching the emotions.

     You're amazed at how...real these androids look. This...suspect. Its..his eyes were saying something. His face held...pain. The way he says he was scared makes your breath falter. For a moment, you could really believe they're humans...with their own lives...own problems.

     But your eyes move to the annoying one and the funky lighted circle gives it away.

     Connor no, that hurt to say... asks more questions. And that's when you feel shivers crawl up your spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. The dark-skinned bot falls into a trance, speaking of ra9. Claiming it will save them all...that they'll no longer be slaves. You swallow hard, feeling regretful...and alarmed. You blink. You never know what these two could be doing in there.

"What if they're secretly communicating to each other? Through their...biocompo-nents...? you ask under your breath.

"As if. They can't mind...speak." the brunette scoffs behind you.

"Yeah? And how would you know." you bark back.

You're interrupted by Hank, smacking both of you.

The RK800 turns its head toward the mirror; harsh and precise. "I'm done."

     You jolt up. Goosebumps on your skin, hairs on your arms standing tall and attentive. That interrogation gave me the creeps...

     All three of you flood out the main door, heading to the one just a foot away. Officer Chris Miller tags along who you literally hadn’t noticed until he cleared his throat, preparing to move the aberrant. No...that's just weird to say. Suddenly, the room feels a lot smaller. Six of you is six too many.

"Chris, lock it up." Gavin commands gruffly. You notice how he eyes the RK800, the model obviously ignoring his warning.

     Officer Miller detatches it from the table, but it jerks from his grasp. Your eyes narrow and you lean against the door, feeling drowned from the new energy in the space. Like defusing a ticking bomb.

     Gavin interjects aggressively, hassling Chris to move it. You watch awkwardly as they struggle, both of them pulling completely opposite ways. You push off from the wall, starting to get impatient.

"You're making this harder than it has to be." you state, trying to get its attention.

     Gavin yells once again, only to get the same in return. Your childish ass chimes in, telling Reed to back down, and now it's just a trio of toddlers crying for their candy. You're telling the cheese-smelling douche to hold his temper, while he's bitching about being tired. Chris yells at both of you two shut up when you notice the thing across you grab the officer's gun.

Fuck.

      In less than a second, blue...blood has coloured the ceiling. The HK400 is crumpled on the floor, gun laying loosely amoung its fingertips. Nothing stirs in all six of you. Your lungs have paused, muscles and eyes too. Your gaze is cemented on the one now pressed to the ground. The eyes still and wide like any other human lying dead. It stares off into another realm, mouth frozen in time, halfway through an inhale.

     This is what you forgot about. This part of the job. This raw, ferocious beast that gnaws at your gut. Chewing, ripping, tearing your meat agonizingly slow. Always hungry, always eating away at you.

"Holy shit."

     You whip your head at your father, revolted that the same words escaped his mouth...at the same time.

----

AM 1:34:48

     Gulping down two pills of ibuprofen, you stare at Hank talking with his plastic buddy. You're leant against his desk, fiddling around with his pens and sticky notes. You sigh as you feel someone slide up next to you.

"How've you been, fucker. You looked like shit walking into the building cuffed. 'Thought you were the one being arrested."

     The grey-eyed dickwad chuckles at his comment, anticipating your snarky retort.

"Reed, I'm not in the mood." you grumble, wiping your eyes with the underside of your fingers.

     You can sense his frown and disappointment. There's a small pause, but sure enough, he doesn't leave you alone.

"Another fight with Ben?"

Your stomach inverts and you feel the need to throw up. "Excuse me?"

     He raises his hands defensively. "Woah, woah. Just asking. You just always seem to be having problems with that guy."

"Where did you get this from, huh?" you threaten.

"Last time I saw you, you were whinging about him on the phone. You weren't being discrete."

     Sure...you weren't, but that doesn't mean he had the right to listen. He's a nosy, intrusive, grumpy old prick and you have never felt so disgusted in his presence.

"Stay out of my life, Reed. You have no right to ask me that. You have no right to assume things about me, and you have no right to be a...fucking asshole!"

"That last one isn't even-"

You slapped him.

     There's a sliver of regret, but your choler has clouded your mind. Do I have anger issues?

     Next thing you know, Hank is lecturing you about having manners, controlling your actions, thinking before you do, blah blah blah. You've heard this all before, it's like you're thirteen again, getting pestered at for feeding the dog your lasagna. Or cutting off that stupid girl's ponytail. She was a wicked shrew...

     Behind Hank, you catch Gavin start to snicker. Absolutely not. You push past the bearded man and start to pummel the brunette's chest. And I mean pummel. Beat. Punch. Slam. Not one giggle leaves his toxic mouth. Poppa tries to pry you off, but he gets an elbow to the nose. Respect your elders, am I right? All this anger...is barely even from Gavin's stupid words. This is the rage from the past two hours. Tonight has been hell. Trudging through disaster after disaster. It's all too much. Your gums start to ache due to the tightness of your jaw. Your hands begin to shake, each blow somehow impacting you. It's like you're just beating up yourself.

     A pair of arms wrap around your sore body, ripping you from your poor...punching bag. Gavin's face is already swelling. Black and blue covering his skin. Blood as the cherry on top. He's dead quiet now, breathing heavily as he lays on the ground. But then...you notice Hank on the ground too, blood spilling from his nose. If Hank's on the ground...then that means...

     You look down and see grey sleeves, detailed with black and silver. No, no, no, no...

"LET ME GO YOU CLUSTER OF RUSTY NAILS."

"I'm sorry, Detective Anderson, but you need to calm down before I can let you go."

I hate his voice, I hate his voice, I hate his voice...

"I'm calm." your voice like honey flowing over chocolate mousse.

     You drop every emotion in your face. All of your tensed muscles fall and you seep into its chest. Its arms fall from your torso. You wait a beat, then completely turn around.

You punch it square in the face.

     You watch in delight as its face snaps back. It stumbles, just once, which truly is enough for you. There's a burst of relieve and triumph, followed by a sting and numbness between your knuckles

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, fuck. Fucking fuck. Okay, so worth it, though...

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#connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh #detroit connor #dbh x reader #detroit become human #detroit connor x reader #connor #rk800 #dbh connor #hank anderson #hank x connor #hank's daughter #bryan dechart