#i have the curse of liking characters that are really fucking hard to draw . (agony)

[skillbattle]

ummm hi take this

#i have the curse of liking characters that are really fucking hard to draw . (agony) #also hi everyone . :] I hope you’re well #warioware #wario ware #dribble and spitz #ashley warioware #red warioware #doodles #draws

[eggsploded]

HOMESTUCK AND STAR TREK? :O

oh baby this posts gonna be long

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

HS: aradia and sollux. aradia is my favorite forever as my patron troll and sollux is just fun to draw because whys he look like that

ST: all the cardassians in general. garak is the best, im honestly more fascinated with andrew robinson himself and his dedication to the character. also damar who doesnt get much presence until later seasons and gets crushed by actually giving a fuck about his position. i took a shot of kanar (maple syrup) for his honor and it was agony.

dukat is excluded from this because he managed to curse the show into buffering on his face everytime i watched.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

HS: probably the beta kids before playing sburb. theyre all just little kids and best friends forever and it makes me tear up- in pesterquest dave literally talks about jade like shes his girlfriend that goes to a different school. all the kids were more than eager to see eachother in person and it sucks that it happened under the circumstances of.. homestuck

i dont have cuteness aggression for them theyve been through enough :-(

ST: in TNG's the enemy geordi helps out this genuinely pitiful romulan dude thats shaking like a chihuahua and i felt so much for that guy i wish he came back

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

HS: i think people are finally past portraying kanaya as a nothingburger, it was kind of funny 10 years ago that people were falling into her flimsy veil of Perceived Normalcy, like she doesnt regularly bite her friends and wasnt unforgivably delulu about vriska when they were moirails.

truly underrated might be the felt? their designs tickle me

ST: damar? maybe hes got more content now idk. honorable mentions are: keiko obrien, worfs parents (my favorite tng ep), hugh, the cardassian scientists that hit on obrien that one time, lwaxana troi and keevan.

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

HS: any of signless' crew. like. we got shafted so hard with the dancestors its crazy. in my wildest dreams psiioniic didnt get utterly crushed by the vast glub and somehow escaped at the ripe age of 2000 sweeps and is now overgrown and too old and ancient for his own good, squatting in solluxs hive. we didnt get much content about how signless did his recruiting- did he just do speeches and demonstrations? did he fuck nasty? i know for sure it wasnt the cringe dialogue they strapped kankri with. same goes for dolorosas life before she raised signless, she should be at the club.

ST: background vulcans. especially in TNG when they just stopped giving a fuck about them, thank god tuvok exists or i wouldve had no incentive at all to actually watch part of VOY.

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

HS: equius. its really a special day when a character cant be quantified with a simple archetype like the rest of the trolls. theres something so deeply strange and wrong with him that its captivating, i chalk it up to being the horse guy in a insect body.

hussie also just like, had it out for him at day one. gamzee got beaten to a pulp narratively but equius didnt even get a chance. its sad, and im more interested in what he couldve been rather than someone like eridan or meenah.

ST: kai winn. shes literally an alien white woman and its fantastic. she did her role so good that the poor actress got hatemail, and her insidiousness is just so well done. the final season of ds9 isnt that good but it was fun to see her go off the rails with dukat.

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

HS: what do i look like? hussie? in truth when it comes to being a flop i like seeing kanaya flounder. shes weird guys. she is so fucking weird and she doesnt really know because her friends are Weirder. we dont always need her to slay, atleast in my book.

ST: riker. no further notes

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

HS: jake. if he has a deeper character i havent noticed because my eyes glaze over trying to read through this dialogue. he feels like a leftover shitpost character hussie couldnt fit on the dancestors. i havent reread act 6 yet, but i remember such a large chunk being some strange love triangle-square surrounding jake and i did Not Give a Fuck, and salt in the wound was dirk and janes friendship being so fantastic but overshadowed by jakes unceasing sex appeal cursing them.

ST: obrien because it was be a standard episode plot for him, i think hed come out fine

#egg asks #homestuck #star trek

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

#kevin moon smut #kevin moon scenario #the boyz kevin smut #the boyz kevin scenario #moon hyungseo smut #moon hyungseo scenario #the boyz kevin moon smut #the boyz kevin moon scenario #the boyz hyungseo smut #the boyz hyungseo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish Street Siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re awesome), I present my own built-on concept. It’s a bit angstier but sue me I’m an angst ball

AO3 | Deluge

Chapter 1: Drizzle

Jason Todd loved the rain. He remembered it pattering on the roof as he dozed off into the night, curled up with Sparky. Times spent splashing in puddles. Drawing a rare smile from Catherine as bright as the morning sun. Days without Willis, his head stuck in a worn copy of Huckleberry Finn and the ambience set only by the rain as it tracked ran down the window he leant on.

It was raining when Jason woke to his mother’s lax corpse, ears drowning out every sound except the rain’s as it plinked in time with the droplets that dripped down her arm.

--

In front of her, Faizul’s corpse is still. So still that Cassandra Cain can almost block out how the man’s body only radiated pain and fear and agony so strong-and-she-did-that-with-her-hands-her-hands-so-red-and-.

But she can’t, her head is still drowning in the memory, and all she can think about is the fear emptiness that settles in her body. Her gift to understand movement as if it were a language, she learns, is nothing more than a curse when Death comes by her hand. She wrings her red fist, as tainted as her soul because of what she had done. She looks away.

Father David has his arms outstretched, a smile so sharp and so bright that if he were any other man, she would have thought he was proud. He is, but underneath, Cassandra can see nothing but sick and profound glee at what she can do. The decision is easy.

As Cassandra springs out the window, its hinges blew wide open, her father David keeled over, the sky crackles and runs with the long red rivulets off her arms.

--

Now, five months later, Jason ducks his head under the fire escape in an empty alley, the rain in a duet with the nightlife of Gotham. He allows himself some respite as it steadily washes the grime off his surroundings, a pleasant ratatatata above the ambient din that is the dark of Gotham. He is so tired, but he’ll have to move soon if he wants to stay out of sight of kidnappers and killers and whatever else haunts the shadows of Gotham.

A howl slices through the Gotham night as some mug gets his face slammed into a wall. Jason knows this because he can see it right now as the same mook gets decked by a – a girl. Anyone on the streets knows that girls can hold their own but seeing some thirty-something-year-old man get his ass handed to him by a pixie of a girl – he thinks she’s his age, somehow – is something else. Seriously, the guy looks terrified out of his mind as he runs with his tail between his legs after a particularly nasty hit to his crotch.

As if sensing his gaze, the girl snaps her head to him, locking him in place.

“Uh… Hi?” Jason raises his hand in an awkward wave which the girl mimics, albeit a bit stilted, her head on a tilt. The silence between the two of them stretches until the girl seems to see something in him and nods. Out of ideas, Jason digs around his bag and produces a fresh enough apple.

“I’m Jason.” He points to himself.

A beat, and then the girl repeats the gesture.

“Cuh, cuh, cuh,” She struggles with the words, her forehead pinched. “Cuh, ah, ssss.”

“Cass?” The girl nods again, this time rigorously. Unsure of himself, Jason raises the apple to her. “Well, nice to meet you, Cass. You hungry?”

Cass grins, her eyes twinkling as she bites into the apple. Around them, the rain lessens. Just a little.

--

She watches two of her most precious children draw closer, children who will laugh and cry and burn for her love. Gotham watches them come, raises her arms, and weeps with her joy.

“Jason and Cassandra against the world,” Is what Gotham would have said if she had a voice. For years, the city is content to watch her children. She observes Jason and Cassandra as they starve, as they fight, as they grow. On one night, the weather nothing but pluvial, she witnesses them come across the strange car in the alleyway owned by her first child. On that night, she watches as the Dark Knight comes across her most perfect pair of children.

--

“Cassandra,” She looks up at the man they had been living under for the past two months, Bruce. She makes no answer, only staring blankly at him–they were betting on seeing how long it took for the man to get uncomfortable when she does that–who stares back. He continues as if they had not been staring for a full minute, which is not to Cass’ benefit. “Do you know where Jason is?”

Cass, willing to keep trying, keeps her gaze unrepentant. Under her scrutiny, the Dark Knight’s demeanour finally cracks a little. Internally, Cass is ecstatic, but she still really wants to milk it as she keeps up the act.

“Someone call for me?” Jay comes down the stairs. Finally, Cass can break her façade.

“Good morning, slob.” The slob, honest to god, freezes.

“No,” He grinds out of his teeth.

“Yes,” Cass gives him a crooked smile. “slob.”

“Am I missing something here?” Bruce is frowning. Oh right, he was ignorant to their scheme.

“Slob,” Cass repeats with feeling and delights at Jay’s fuming. “S-L-O-B. It means Stupid-Loser-Of-Bets,” She looks Jay dead in the eye again and calls him by the name.

Bruce frowned even further (his body projects such honest confusion that Cass almost laughs). “I was not aware you two had made a bet.”

“A bet I lost because of you, old man!” Jay pipes up, suddenly fuming at Bruce. “You’re Batman, and you can’t even keep from cracking when some girl stares at you for longer than a minute?”

Cass does not hold in her laughter anymore, something she broadcasts to all gathered. Bruce sighs, but at least he waits for her to calm down before he gets to his point.

“Regardless… I need you two to come with me to my office,” As the man leaves, the two share a glance.

“You gonna go after him?”

“You first, slob,” Jay grumbles the entire way to the office, where Bruce waves them in.

For a few seconds, the man awkwardly shifts before he pulls a sheaf of papers from behind his desk.

“I… I quite enjoy having the two of you here. With me,” Bruce admits, looking both of them in the eyes. He takes a deep breath. “I do not want to force this on either of you, but I would love to have you here with me for longer.”

“Permanently, even.”

Bruce lays out the papers on the desk, ‘Adoption Applications’ printed at the top. The letters draw a sharp breath from Jay, and Cass is confident enough with reading to understand what it means.

“Yes,” They both say immediately, and Bruce’s face goes softer than either have ever seen it.

When he asks for their surnames, Cass thinks about saying Cain. Instead, she says Todd.

Shyly, her russet orbs meet his azure ones expecting anger, but everything about Jason only projects love and acceptance. Her grin, something she had not got right yet, is almost identical to the one her brother wears.

“Always wanted a sister. Can’t do much better than you, eh, Cass?”

“Yes Jay,” she pauses. “slob.”

Outside, the sky is open in a light drizzle.

--

If there is anyone in the Waynes that Jason thinks is his favourite, it would be Alfred. An opinion he thinks Cass would be hard-pressed to disagree with. Of course, Cass is still in awe about the fact that Bruce Wayne is Batman (and isn’t that just fucking crazy), so it’s understandable. Conversely, Jason still remembers his first memory of the butler, a kind smile and welcoming arms that promised care for both of them.

“Master Jason,” The boy had looked up to see a crinkle in Alfred’s eyes that he had only ever seen from Catherine. The butler continued, somehow even softer than his usual. “Would you like me to fix that for you?”

Alfred gestured to Jason’s battered copy of Huckleberry Finn that he had cradled self-consciously to his chest. He refused, unsure why the butler seemed to be delighted to see Jason in the way only Cass and his Mom did. But there is something so trustworthy about the man that part of Jason is sure Alfred would do things like that no matter what he asked. So, automatic favourite.

--

Their older brother, Dick (“Aptly nicknamed,” Jay mutters under his breath.), yells whenever he comes to the manor. Most of his visits tend to cycle between him screaming at Bruce or yelling about them. He does make an effort to be a little quieter when he’s talking about the latter. Although, he still looks at Jay with an indecipherable mixture of emotions in his eyes. A pool caught between anger and something unknown to them. It’s not something that upsets Cass, but it puts both of them off, nonetheless.

On the other hand, Barbara is a little more forward in her dislike of the new kids. More often than not, her ire seems aimed at Cass specifically. Privately, Cass thinks Barbara was still angry about Bruce taking her role as Batgirl and giving it to Cass. But, she can see how every time the older girl gets less hostile, another part of her body was long past the role anyway. So, she doesn’t hold it against Oracle.

--

“C’mon Cass, repeat after me,” Jason waves the pages in Cass’ face, which elicits a giggle from his sister. Her giggling unbalances the both of them, so they have to waste another couple of minutes to make themselves comfortable again.

“What’s the use you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?”

Cass repeats the words, but she struggles at ‘troublesome’, so Jason repeats it for her. Silence, and then.

“What mean?” He thinks she isn’t asking about the word.

“Well, Mom used to say that it was just that. It might be harder to do the right thing, but it’d be better since you at least did it properly,” Satisfied, his sister merely nods and tries the words again. This time, she only takes three tries until she gets ‘troublesome’ right.

“I think she would have liked you,” He murmurs between phrases and instantly regrets it when Cass’ head turns to him so sharply she jostles him. He is about to brush it off when she nods her head shyly, snuggling closer to Jason.

He thinks, as they keep reading, that things are going to turn out alright. He has Robin now, and Robin gives him magic. Not only that but he’s also got Cass as Batgirl. Sure, she has that weird stitch mask covering her face, but it’s so fitting that he cannot imagine Cass with any other kind of costume. He knows her, and she knows him. For years she has been the sister he never knew he needed.

Together, Jason muses, they’re going to shake the whole damn world.

--

Whether they're from the Justice League or otherwise, everyone is always ready with a snide comment directed towards them. Or, more specifically, Jason. They use words and insults that don’t make sense to her, but she can see them affect her brother. When she asks, all he does is brush her off with lies and platitudes that they both know are fake. It isn’t until Troia huffs and says something that has waves of hurt rolling off Jason’s body that Cass decides she’s had enough.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’d think you’d ever be like – ow!” Troia, poise flooded with nothing but condescension (she’s too angry to be elated at remembering a word Jason taught her) that Cass quickly corrects with a sharp jab. Like a deer in headlights, she turns and somehow has the gall to look indignant (another word). “Who did – Batgirl?”

“What, are you doing?” Troia fucking blinks. “Why are you treating my brother like this?”

She doesn’t even look guilty.

“Oh, don’t worry about all that. I don’t think it’s anything you’d understand anyway,”

She bends down towards her, apparently not noticing how still she is. Anyone who knows anything about Cassandra Todd knows her stillness means Death. Evidently, Troia is an exception. She's the only one in the room that's relaxed.

“Some people are simply born for this role. No street rat can ever hope to achieve that.”

Cassandra moves before anyone even blinks, her arms a flurry of jabs and punches and vicious kicks as she catches Troia off guard. Even when she finally regains her footing, the Amazon doesn't stand a sliver of a chance as Cassandra lays into her.

A block from Troia awards a savage stomp on her shin. A punch ducked under and followed through into a sequence of blows to the Amazon’s chest. When Troia grips her lasso and tries to restrain Cassandra, the girl only slinks her way past and wrestles it from her hands. Quickly and efficiently, she wraps it around the Amazon’s waist and pulls. For someone so small, Cassandra manages to lift Troia with the lasso with enough strength that when she releases it, the Amazon goes flying into a pillar in the Watchtower with a sharp crack.

Cass picks up her brother and shields him from the Leaguers, indifferent to their shocked and judgemental eyes.

The message is clear.

Even though they’re lost in a veritable sea of people, it still ends up being just the two of them, and Cass is more than okay with that.

Next chapter

#street siblings au #jason todd #cassandra cain #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #robin #batgirl #red hood #black bat #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #barbara gordon #donna troy #ok i know people might not like what happens to donna #but guys cmon #she was honestly such a dick to jason in the early comics #cass and jason find each other #some things change #other things don't change at all #dc comics #fluff #angst #dc #batfamily #character study

[in-the-grip-of-depression]

In The Grip Of Depression Chapter 47:The Final Encounter

Chapter One | Previous Chapter Trigger Warnings: Mentions of blood, injuries, violence, character death (whoops)

Roman cursed under his breath as he watched Logan disappear among the trees. He couldn't just go running after him blindly, he had Virgil and Thomas to worry about.

Not to mention the fact Roman had no idea where Logan was running to and there was no way he would catch up with him now.

Roman turned to the remaining two of their little group with an annoyed sigh.

"We have to go after him!" Thomas said frantically and Virgil nodded, picking up his katana determinedly.

"We have no idea where he's gone and I'm not risking Preston getting hold of Thomas. That would be a disaster." Roman said, trying to take charge of the situation.

"Oh no you don't Roman. Worrying about risks is my thing, being cautious is my thing! You don't get to decide if something is too dangerous, that's my job and I say it doesn't matter how risky it might be, nothing is worse than letting Preston get hold of Patton and Logan. Both of them are important parts of Thomas and if he... If he hurts them or...k...ki... Worse.... Thomas will be just as screwed as if Preston got hold of him directly."

Romab blinked in surprise at Virgils words before sighing. "You have a point Virgil, come on let's go."

Thomas, Virgil and Roman set off into the woods in the direction they saw Logan take.

After a while they paused and Roman muttered to himself "Surely we aren't lost, I know my way round this forest so there's no way we should be going around in circles."

"well either Preston is messing with us or you don't have as good a memory as you think you do." Roman turned round, ready to give Virgil an unimpressed look only to find Thomas was the one who said it.

Before Roman could say anything Thomas inhaled sharply and put a hand to his chest, overcome with a sudden gnawing empty feeling.

"Thomas? What's wrong?" Virgil asked and Thomas gasped out "I'm so c... Cold and empty."

Virgils eyes widened and he exchanged a worried look with Roman, both of them having come to the same conclusion.

"Prestons starting to break Patton."

Thomas winced as the feeling in his chest seemed to grow every couple of seconds. "What can we do to stop it?"

"We need to find Preston as quickly as possible and stop him." Roman said with a grim expression.

He started walking in the direction he felt was most likely to be the right way and the other two followed, Thomas wincing and gasping as the ache in his chest grew and he began to shiver as he started to feel colder.

The trio didn't seem to be getting anywhere and they came to a stop again because Roman was starting to get truly annoyed.

"This has to be Prestons doing. He must have wanted to lure Logan away from us so he allowed Logan to find him easily and then messed everything up so we couldn't find them!"

Virgil had a frown on his face as he considered what Roman said, he wouldn't put it past Preston to do something like that.

Thomas hunched over as he felt like ice had filled his lungs but then suddenly he felt the previous ache and feelings of emptiness get washed away by a wave of warmth.

"What just happened?" he asked, looking at the other two in shock as he stood upright again. "the cold is completely gone now."

"maybe Logan managed to get Preston away from Patton or something?" Roman said, looking around with a frown.

"if he did then he must really love Patton. Preston was a complete monster towards him and it's hard to think that Logan put up with that in complete silence and didn't break worse than he did." Virgil muttered, earning a confused look from Thomas.

"wait, what exactly did Preston do to Logan?"

There was complete silence as neither Roman nor Virgil wanted to explain just how much Logan had been through.

Thomas looked between the two expectantly before throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Damn it! Why do I never know anything that's going on? Why is it I'm always left in the dark despite the fact that this is my mind!? I have the right to know when things happen! So one of you better start talking or so help me I'll..."

Whatever Thomas was going to do didn't matter as an earpiercing scream of agony suddenly ripped through the air, cutting off Thomas and making the three of them turn in the direction it was coming from.

"That sounded like..." Roman started to say but was cut off by Virgil who exclaimed Pattons name loudly and ran towards the scream.

Roman quickly ran after Virgil, followed closely by an equally worried Thomas.

The three of them ran for a while before bursting into a clearing where the first thing they saw was Patton laying on the floor clutching his arm, his face streaked with tears.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Virgil asked, dropping to his knees next to Patton and looking him over for injuries.

Patton shook his head and managed to gasp out "Logan and Preston were wrestling over there somewhere but it went silent and I don't know what happened."

Thomas walked over in the direction Patton had gestured to and peered between a couple trees to see two forms unconscious on the floor.

Thomas bent down to try and roll them over or try to wake them but Roman grabbed his wrist and gently tugged him away.

"There's no knowing what might happen if you make contact with Preston and even if you were about to touch Logan there's not much you can do to wake him up."

Thomas frowned but allowed Roman to pull him to a safe distance.

Virgil became aware that he didn't have a clue how to help Patton so he got to his feet and peered over at Preston and Logan.

"How long do you think it'll take for them to regain consciousness?" Thomas asked and Virgil shrugged.

"I don't know but it'd be better if Logan woke up first so we could end this the easy way by getting Preston while he's unconscious."

"Virgil!"

"What? He'd do the same to us and you know it! It's the easiest and safest way to get rid of him!"

Roman had a deep set frown on his face as he muttered "Just because that's what he would do doesn't mean you should do it too. We shouldn't stoop to his level, we have honour."

Virgil scowled and crossed his arms as he broke eye contact with Roman. "Fine but you show me what use that honour is when he wakes up and kills one of us."

Roman sighed and shook his head. "he's not going to kill anyone. I won't let him."

A whimpering sound came from the two unconscious forms on the floor and they both started twitching in a nearly identical way.

"What do you think is happening?" Thomas asked, watching the twitching in alarm.

Suddenly Preston sat bolt upright, his eyelids still shut but twitching. Logans hands were still clamped tightly onto his upper arms so they were both sitting up.

Finally Prestons eyes shot open, for a brief moment they were completely black before they went to their usual dark brown and he let out a noise of shock and anger.

"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed and pushed himself to his feet, dragging Logan up with him.

Logans eyes opened blearily and his entire body was limp with exhaustion as he continued to cling to Preston. He now knew exactly what had happened but he didn't have much energy left to tell the others let alone do anything himself.

Preston noticed Logans grip and immediately grabbed him by the arm, pulling him in front like a meatshield.

"Let him go." Roman muttered drawing his sword while Virgil brandished his own with a glare.

Preston sneered "Why would I ever do that? I am unarmed, facing two armed opponents. It would be stupid to let go of the one thing standing in the way."

Roman frowned. Prestons argument was logical and he had to agree. Roman would prefer not harming an unarmed person as that seemed very unfair but he guessed he would make an exception for Preston seeing as the being before him had proven time and time again that he didn't need a blade or weapon to harm people.

Virgil was furious and the only thing keeping him from lunging at Preston was the half conscious form of Logan.

The last thing Virgil wanted to do was add more pain and suffering to the logical trait.

Thomas had backed up to the edge of the clearing as soon as Preston had woken up and both he and Patton sat watching in fear of what would happen.

Preston eyed both Roman and Virgil, a calculating look crossing his face which then morphed into a grin. "Alright, you want the nerd back? Have him."

Preston suddenly shoved Logan towards Virgil who stumbled slightly as he caught him.

Preston made a dash towards where his sword lay and managed to pick it up. He smirked as he saw the realisation flash across Romans face. He'd been played.

Roman was angry both with Preston and himself. He'd hesitated at attacking for a few seconds due to Preston unarmed state and now he was armed and dangerous again.

He hadn't exactly walked away from their last encounter unscathed either so an all out fight didn't seem the best approach.

Virgil managed to position Logan behind him and then turned back to Preston, his eyes blazing with rage and his jaw clenched as he stepped forward.

It all happened quite quickly. Virgil lunged with the sword and Preston quickly deflected it, spinning and sending a kick at Roman who was a little to slow to doge it and stumbled.

Preston then ducked a slash from Virgil and swiped with his sword at their legs.

"You can't best me, I'm a master swordsman." Preston boasted with a smug smile, causing Virgil to let out a growl of annoyance.

Roman took a deep breath and started pushing forward, swiping his sword through the air from left to right in rapid succession forcing Preston to step back and dodge the blade.

Virgil stayed back not wanting to get in the way of Roman. Instead he tried to think of some other way to get at Preston. Maybe he could figure out a way to disarm or distract Preston long enough for Roman to stab him?

Virgil frowned. That hadn't worked the first time though according to what he knew. Patton stabbed Preston right at the beginning of all this and Preston had survived. Why was that?

Virgil ran over to where Patton and Thomas were, hoping Roman could keep Preston busy as he asked Patton some questions about Prestons rebirth.

Preston dodged attack after attack, laughing slightly as he saw Roman becoming more and more frustrated at not landing any.

"Come on Roman, I'm sure you can do better than that. You're trying to kill me remember? Or maybe you're just not very skilled at using your sword or fighting." Preston taunted.

Roman let out a snarl and suddenly began to attack faster, his anger taking over.

Preston managed to dodge a few but wasn't able to move quick enough to move fully out the way as Romans sword swung at head hight and caught him right across the cheek, leaving a long thin cut.

Preston hissed in pain and put a hand to his cheek, a large happy smile coming to his face when he realised he was bleeding.

"There's the angry Prince I know. Come on, remember, if you don't kill me I'll kill everyone you care about."

Roman kept attacking, his anger fueling his movements as he attacked with everything he had. He couldn't let Preston win. He had to end him and this whole thing now.

Preston laughed as he practically danced out of the way of Romans attacks. He knew from experience that anger tended to make people sloppy and more likely to make a mistake and that's exactly what happened.

Roman spun and tried to slash at him but left his side exposed meaning all Preston had to do was slash across and Roman crumpled.

The high sound of Romans scream echoed through the trees and Preston just about managed to let out a short cackle before a black clad ball of fury with a sword suddenly charged at him.

Preston immediately found himself locked into a fierce battle with Virgil who was clearly not at all hesitant with his desire to kill.

Thomas watched from the sidelines, horrified at the sight of Roman laying in a slowly growing pool of blood.

He glanced at Preston and Virgil who were battling intensely before making a dash towards Roman, ignoring Patton who hissed his name in alarm.

He made it to Romans side and quickly put pressure on the wound. "Roman, what can I do to help?" He asked frantically.

Roman groaned "Thomas... You need to get back to safety. There's no telling what he'll do if he gets hold of you."

Thomas ignored him and looked around, trying to find something to help him stop the bleeding. He was in the middle of a clearing though so there was nothing around, causing him to feel useless as he couldn't stop the bleeding.

"Thom... Thomas... Let me... Let me help." A voice rasped from somewhere and Thomas turned to see Logan crawling towards them.

"Logan no! You're exhausted as it is, don't!" Roman said but Logan ignored him and put one hand on the wound and then the other on Romans forehead.

Thomas watched in confusion as both sides closed their eyes, their faces scrunched up and jaws clenched.

The wound stopped bleeding as heavily so now it was merely a scratch but Romans outfit was still bloodstained and ripped.

Logan let out a small sigh and slumped sideways as he lifted his hands from Roman who still had his eyes closed.

Thomas crawled towards Logan and lifted him with shaking hands. He could feel the very faint thump of Logans pulse and his eyelids flickered slightly but he made no movement that indicated that he was aware of his surroundings.

Thomas started to drag Logan back to where Patton was but froze in horror as he watched Virgils katana suddenly stab into a tree trunk, leaving the anxious side unarmed.

Virgil glared at Preston who was smirking back, twirling his sword in his hand like a baton, clearly showing off and enjoying playing with Virgil.

"That was fun, but like I said, you can't best me in a fight like that. Don't feel too bad though, you never were going to win."

Virgil clenched his hands into fists and growled "You won't win. Even if there was a possibility that you managed to kill Thomas, you can be damn fucking sure we'll take you down with us."

Preston let out a laugh. "Really? Well I look forward to seeing that, I really do, however, you're currently unarmed."

Preston stopped twirling his sword and took a step towards Virgil who stepped back, his eyes darting around for possible solutions and/or escape routes.

Roman opened his eyes, tears running down his face as he came to terms with everything that had just flashed through his mind. He looked over at Preston and now he knew exactly what had happened he couldn't help but feel pity.

Roman looked over at Logan and made a mental note to shout at him later for using up all his energy, even if it was to heal him and give him important information.

Roman pushed himself to his feet and called out "Hey Preston, why don't you let Cayden out to play?"

Preston turned to Roman his eyes wide in horror which was definitely odd considering he usually had a smug smirk or cruel grin on his face.

Roman smiled "Cayden loved Mulan didn't he? I can sing some for you if you want or maybe Thomas can. How about Reflection?"

Prestons eyes narrowed in apparent anger but Roman caught the flash of pain in them.

"You are walking a dangerous path." Preston hissed, his eyes darting from Virgil to Roman.

Roman had picked up his katana but made no move to raise it. He was still hoping he could do this all with words.

"Why is my reflection someone I don't know Somehow I cannot hide Who I am Though I've tried When will my reflection show who I am inside"

Roman burst out into song and the effect was instantaneous.

"No! Stop it!" Preston cried out, trying to keep a fierce expression on his face but his eyes were welling up with tears as memory after memory began to assault him.

Virgil had managed to get to a safe distance and was watching in surprise, caught off guard by Prestons reaction.

Preston seemed to fight off the memories for long enough because he used his ability to fling Virgils katana out of the tree and towards Roman who immediately stopped singing so he could dodge the blade.

"I'll kill you first for that little trick!" Preston snarled and started stomping towards Roman who teleported before Prestons sword could make contact.

Roman quickly pulled his phone out and sent a text to all of the others before raising his sword just in time to block Prestons blow.

"What's the matter Preston? Not a big Disney fan?" Roman asked with a grin.

Preston just snarled and launched a kick at Roman who managed to dodge.

Virgil frowned at the text, his eyes darting from his phone to the fight. He looked over at the others and saw Thomas and Patton looking just as confused. He felt the urge to hit Roman round the head and call him an idiot but then again Roman had nearly brought Preston to tears with the song from Mulan so maybe he knew something they didn't?

Virgil sighed and muttered "He owes me for this." he quickly sunk down and was back before anyone noticed he'd gone.

He sighed and began climbing up a nearby tree until he reached a sturdy enough branch.

Using a bunch of stuff he'd found he managed to secure a pretty heavy duty cd player to the branch. He turned the volume up on full and quickly skipped to the right song which he then put on repeat.

He quickly shimmied down the tree, his feet landing on solid ground before the music had reached anyone's ears.

Virgil nodded to Roman who teleported nearer to the tree just as the first lyrics to The Light Behind Your Eyes started to play.

Preston froze, his eyes flashing with pain again as the familiar song registered.

"N... No!" He gasped, stumbling slightly, his hands trembling.

Roman began softly singing along, knowing the words quite well from his memory and the fact he'd listened to it while trapped in his room.

Preston stood taking gasping breaths and one hand on his head as the song washed over him, accompanied by Romans voice which was pretty exact to Thomas's.

Roman sent a glance over at Thomas who seemed to remember the song and when Roman nodded Thomas joined in with the next verse, making Preston scream out in anger and pain.

His hands were shaking and his breaths were coming out in pants.

Virgil watched and rolled his eyes as Roman gestured for him to join in but took his chance to immediately belt out the lyrics when the beat really kicked in.

Prestons knees buckled, the memories he'd worked so hard to keep locked away suddenly spilling over and overwhelming him.

His whole body shook with grief as memory after memory of his friends faces flashed before his eyes.

Their smiles. Their laughter. Their tears. Their fear. Their bloody corpses.

Everything was crashing down on him and he let out an agonised scream, pain radiating through his body.

Virgils voice cut off as he watched the same grey that effected him starting to creep up Prestons arms and neck.

Preston had his hands clenched into fists in the floor, his sword still held tightly in one hand as he sobbed.

Roman had a look of relief on his face as he slowly approached Preston, his sword in his hand just in case.

"Cayden?" Roman asked in a gentle voice and Preston let out a cry.

"No! That's not me anymore! I'm... I'm not Cayden! I.... They... They all died and I didn't do anything to help! I... I failed them! No, Cayden failed them! Cayden is dead! He failed so he died! I'm.... I'm Preston! It wasn't my fault! It was Cayden fault! He.... He stabbed... He..."

Preston started sobbing harder, his words difficult to understand.

Virgil was still frozen in place, his eyes wide in panic as he watched the grey spreading at an alarming rate. He was terrified to see what would happen once the grey spread across all of Prestons body because he knew that would probably be his fate.

Roman stood by Preston and frowned. He didn't think he could bring himself to stab someone so broken like this. And Preston or Cayden, whichever he identified as at the moment, was clearly broken.

Roman thought it over and reasoned that ending Cayden/Preston would probably be a mercy at this point. He was clearly insane and in absolute agony.

While Roman deliberated Preston had closed his eyes and started to try and push the memories back again. He couldn't quite build up another wall or anything to keep them out but he did manage to clear his mind a little.

With a slightly clearer mind Preston managed to get a strategy in place.

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his legs shook, and threw his sword at the cd player which instantly shattered.

Virgil let out a loud growl of anger at his cd player being smashed, especially with an MCR cd in it.

Roman raised his sword and swung it at Preston who used his ability and managed to block it with his own sword just in time.

"I'll give you props that was certainly a good idea. Rather cruel but effective. You almost had me." Preston said, a deranged grin on his tear streaked face which was steadily becoming grey.

Roman had one last idea and quickly shapeshifted into Paxton, using the fact he already had a similar injury to the one Paxton had had to his advantage.

"Cayden?" he asked, his voice soft.

Roman knew this was probably one of the cruelest things he could do but it was either this or Preston would kill them all.

Prestons eyes were wide and even though part of him knew this was just Roman, a larger part of him was desperate to believe this was truly Paxton.

"Cayden? Can you hear me?" Roman said, echoing the words Paxton had said during some of his final moments.

Preston stepped back, inhaling sharply as the memory tried to take over.

The grey had now spread across Prestons face, making his deranged eyes appear more frightening.

"P... Paxton..." Preston muttered, his eyes locked with Romans. "Paxton... Paxton is dead!"

Roman stepped back as a look of rage crossed Prestons face and managed to block his anger fuelled blows. However Roman couldn't do more than continue to block as there was no opening for him to land any of his own blows.

The extent of Prestons anger was causing an actual heat to radiate off of him and as his sword continued to swish past Romans face it became clear to Roman that he'd made a grave mistake in trying to provoke him with his past.

Roman dropped the appearance of Paxton, trying to focus his energy on fighting Preston but it didn't make a difference.

After 30 seconds of blocking, dodging and backing away Roman found himself at the edge of the clearing with a tree directly behind him so there was no where else to retreat to.

Roman slashed forward with his sword, trying to force Preston back but each one was blocked and Preston lunged forwards mercilessly driving his own sword forward.

Roman let out a cry of pain as the blade pierced his abdomen, right below his belly button.

Roman bent over in agony and slumped to the floor as Preston removed the blade and held the now bloody sword in a threatening manner above Romans form.

Prestons eyes darted around to the others, a deranged half smile half sneer on his face as he said "Anyone makes a move and I'll make a mess."

There was a moment of tense silence as Preston made eye contact with the three still conscious people and then the temperature seemed to plummet as a wide unnerving grin spread across his face.

Preston crouched next to Roman, keeping one eye on the others as he grabbed the injured trait by the hair and forced his head back so he could hold the sword to his throat.

"for your little stunt you will die last, watching helplessly as I destroy your friends one by one."

Prestons harsh whisper made Roman flinch and if he could have he would have stood up or attempted to shove Preston away but the injury he'd sustained prevented him from being able to do so.

Preston stood up, a gleam in his eyes as he looked around for his next target. Eventually his eyes settled on Patton who was sitting over by a cluster of trees.

Without hesitation Preston stalked towards Patton who scrambled to get to his feet with wide eyes and a wince as he jolted his broken arm.

Before Preston could take more than two steps he sensed something being thrown at him and instinctively ducked, just in time to dodge the swing Virgil made at him.

In response Preston swung with the still bloody sword and grinned as he felt it connect.

Virgil let out a shriek of pain and backed away, a hand clutching one of his shoulders.

Preston barely spared Virgil a glance before continuing his path towards Patton who had just managed to get to his feet.

Wide eyed in fear Patton hurriedly tried to back away, stumbling slightly over a tree root.

Preston was about an arms length away when a voice suddenly shouted "Hey! Leave him alone!"

Preston paused and looked to the side to see Thomas glaring at him, a small dagger in one of his hands.

"Thomas! What are you doing?"

Suddenly there was a blur of movement as Virgil rushed forwards to try and pull Thomas away.

"Get off of me Virgil, I can't just watch as he hurts you all!" Thomas exclaimed, struggling as Virgil tugged him back a few steps.

While Preston was watching their interaction with an eyebrow raised in amusement Patton had remembered the dagger Roman had given him.

He quietly slipped it out of his pocket and collected himself with a few breaths before throwing it directly at Preston.

A whooshing sound caught Prestons attention and he turned just in time to see a dagger flying towards him.

His eyes widened in surprise as the dagger hit its mark and he took a step back from the force of the impact, a small gasp of pain leaving his lips.

He reached up to grab the handle of the dagger where it protruded from just underneath his right collarbone and pulled it out with a hiss, sending blood splattering to the ground.

"You really shouldn't have done that." he growled and quicker than anyone expected he lunged forwards with his sword and the dagger.

Patton didn't have time to dodge as the two blades were thrust towards him and he found his own dagger being embedded in his abdomen while the sword barely missed.

"No!" Thomas shouted and used all his strength to shove Virgil away from him.

Preston smirked as he twisted the dagger, relishing in the cry of pain that came from Pattons mouth as he pushed it deeper.

Thomas ran towards Preston, dagger in hand and his mind full of anger as he watched Patton crumple to the floor after Preston pulled the dagger out of his abdomen.

Prestons smug smirk disappeared as something sharp plunged into his side and he was tackled to the floor, landing heavily on the hard dirt.

Heavy blows suddenly began raining down on Preston who was too stunned to be able to do anything for a few seconds.

It was only when the weight was removed that he realised what had happened.

He sat up and looked at Thomas who was panting and red in the face, his fists clenched and covered in blood from where they'd impacted.

The expression on Thomas's face let Preston know that if Virgil wasn't holding him back he would still be laying into him.

Raising a hand to wipe some blood from his face Preston got to his feet, his eyes locked onto Thomas with an animalistic glint.

"What's wrong Tommy boy? Do I make you angry? Do I make you want to hurt and kill me?" Preston taunted.

Thomas let out a small growl as he strained against Virgils hold, just itching to hit Preston again to try and rid him of his smug superior attitude.

Virgil was using all his strength to hold Thomas back from Preston, already worried about how the brief amount of contact might have effected him.

He glanced around at the others, his worry mounting as he realised he was the only one standing and capable of fighting.

Roman was slumped against a tree, wounded and bleeding, Logan was unconscious on the floor from exhaustion and Patton was now on the floor in a slowly growing pool of blood.

Virgil was conflicted, he wanted to end Preston but he needed to keep Thomas safe which he couldn't do if he was fighting Preston.

Now fully understanding just how bad things were, Virgils anxiety began to grow as he struggled to think of a way to act that would help protect Thomas while also fighting Preston.

His increasing anxiety caused a familiar black smoke to begin forming, licking up his back and swirling around his legs.

The energy started to come from Virgils hands and Thomas suddenly let out a small cry as if he'd been burnt.

Virgils eyes widened in horror and he let go of Thomas immediately, alarmed that he'd hurt him.

Preston chuckled and turned back to Patton who was still on the floor, his chest rising and falling at a slightly unsteady rate as the pool of blood around him expanded.

Virgils panic increased as he noticed where Prestons attention was now focused and he shot a quick look at Thomas who was rubbing his arm.

He clenched his fists, grit his teeth and took a deep breath before launching himself at Preston in a last ditch effort to protect Thomas and the others.

Preston was once again tackled to the floor, this time by Virgil who's eyes were blazing with anger and determination.

Preston let out a growl as he fought back against the side on top of him, annoyed about not being able to finish at least one of the sides off for good yet.

Thomas watched from the sidelines as the two fought, a tangle of arms and legs as they growled and swore at each other.

He looked around and tried to figure out what the best thing for him to do was.

Both Roman and Patton were bleeding out and he couldn't see a way to heal them, it wasn't as if he had... Wait a second.

Thomas's eyes locked onto Logans unconscious form as the thought of healing powers crossed his mind.

He dashed forward and dropped to his knees next to the logical side, shaking him and patting him on the face to try and rouse him.

Preston managed to get a lucky hit on the shoulder he'd already struck with his sword, thus freeing himself from Virgil who recoiled in pain.

Preston made use of this and both his hands found Virgils throat, his thumbs digging into the anxious sides windpipe while he used his knees to keep Virgil from wriggling free.

Virgils hands scratched uselessly against the back of Prestons and his vision started to blur.

Preston shifted his knees and Virgil felt something solid pressing into his stomach where his pockets were.

Reaching a hand into the pocket his fingers closed around the knife he'd pocketed what seemed like forever ago.

His arms were growing heavier as lack of oxygen kicked in so it was with great difficulty that he steadied his hand and plunged the knife upwards.

Thomas gave up all attempts at being gentle as he started to panic slightly and slapped Logan across the face, successfully causing the sides eyes to shoot open.

"Thomas? What... What's going on?" Logan rasped, blinking blearily.

Before Thomas could respond there was a loud exclamation of shock and pain and as the two turned to look for the source they witnessed Preston falling backwards off of Virgil, a knife sticking out of his chest and a growing patch of crimson soaking into his shirt.

Virgil was gasping for breath and massaging his throat, his eyes locked onto Preston warily.

Preston knelt there looking down at the blade protruding from his chest, recognising it as one of his own.

"Naughty Virgil, has no one taught you it's wrong to take things that aren't yours?" he said while standing up, his voice sounding strained as a small trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

Virgil pushed himself to his feet, still trying to get his breath back but positioning himself into a protective stance in front of the others.

As the two stared each other down Thomas helped Logan over to Patton to try to at least staunch the bleeding and by 'helped' Thomas pretty much dragged the logical side across the clearing.

Neither Preston nor Virgil paid any mind to the movements of the others as they were too focused on each other, a knowing smirk on one face while the other was drawn into a scowl of hatred.

"You won't walk away from this. Even if you kill me, you can be damned fucking sure that I'll take you down with me." Virgil growled, his teeth clenched just as tightly as his hands which were shaking slightly.

Preston chuckled and coughed up a bit of blood. "You're determination and confidence is admirable but you're quite clearly ignorant of the situation you're in."

Virgil narrowed his eyes, not sure what he was referring to.

Preston looked down at the knife and laughed again before grabbing the handle with both hands and pulling it free, gasping and hissing in pain.

"What the...?" Virgil started but was cut off as the dagger was thrown at him and he had to dodge.

Preston laughed, blood bubbling up out of his mouth as the red began to spread across his front at a more rapid pace.

While the two had been focused on each other Logan had managed to stop Patton bleeding as heavily but due to his exhausted state he hadn't been able to heal up the wound completely, thus Thomas was told to keep pressure on it while Logan attempted to get to Roman.

Logan crawled as fast as he could over to Roman who's bleeding wasn't as heavy as Pattons but was still pretty bad and due to the placement of his wound he could hardly move without experiencing agonising pain.

Logan was starting to try and heal up Roman when the sound of a body hitting the dirt caught his attention.

Looking round he was stunned to see Preston on his hands and knees, blood splattering the dirt from where it leaked from his mouth and chest.

A small jolt of hope and relief hit him but was immediately squashed as Preston seemed to be laughing, almost as if he knew something they didn't.

Prestons laughter was getting louder, causing those present to shudder slightly but then it cut off as the blood now flowing from Preston mouth cut him off and it came out in gurgles.

An enormous grin curled across Prestons blood stained face but after a few seconds the blood was no longer there and Preston pushed himself up onto his knees, seemingly not affected by what had just happened.

"This was quite fun, playing all these games but now it's getting boring. It's becoming repetitive and predictable and I grow tired of it. You've had your fun, now it's my turn." Prestons eyes were pitch black and his voice came out in a deep growl.

Then in a split second his eyes were back to the same dark brown as before.

"No, I can do this, please I...." Preston seemed to be pleading but his sentence was cut off by a choking gasp as his skin began to break apart, the grey flakey texture meaning it fell off like pastry.

"Wait! No!" Preston yelled, his eyes wide in terror before a loud ear piercing shriek of agony burst from his mouth, echoing around the clearing and reverberating off the trees.

Virgil had fallen back in horror, his gaze fixated on where Preston was literally falling apart while his anxious energy began to grow at the thought of that possibly happening to him.

Logan and Roman exchanged worried looks and Logan once again began focusing on healing the creative side.

Thomas still had his hands over Pattons wound so when the screaming had began he had been unable to cover his ears like Patton had. Instead his face was scrunched up into a grimace and he was gritting his teeth as he tried to tune it out.

Prestons scream continued as the parts falling from his body began to get bigger so now whole chunks were just sloughing off like the most crumbly pastry ever.

Virgils heart was pounding as he watched, his energy swirling around him violently as he struggled to keep calm.

A massive chunk on Prestons face slid off and hit the floor, leaving a gaping crater where his jaw should be that more closely resembled a void of pitch black.

Cracks ran across the rest of Prestons face and as the remainder of it began to fall to the floor, the long agonised scream began to alter to an eerie howl.

Where the form of Preston had knelt there was now an abomination of nightmarish proportions, comprised of a shadowy substance that flickered like flames.

Virgil froze, his mind unable to properly comprehend what was before him.

The creature stopped it's howl and gazed down at Virgil with what could only be described as the equivalent of a grin on its wolfish face.

Logan just about managed to heal up the worst of Romans wound, both of them with the same horrified expression as they recognised the thing that had come from Preston.

Roman winced as he pushed himself to his feet, his abdomen protesting at the movement but he had other things to focus on.

Logan also stood up, his legs shaking as he tried to push his exhaustion away. He couldn't afford to pass out when this thing was present.

Virgil took a step back as the thing stepped forward, a growl rumbling from its large form.

For a split second everything seemed to stop and then just like the calm before a storm it all went to hell.

The creature swished its whip like tail and crouched ready to pounce, a loud growl coming from it.

Virgil quickly darted out of the way, mostly relying on instinct as he panicked about what was going on.

The shadowy form leaped forwards, teeth bared and claws ready to strike but it just missed

Roman began searching for his sword as quickly as he could manage while Logan stumbled over to Patton and Thomas who were both pale and shaking at the horror in front of them.

Without a word Logan started to once again try and heal Patton, hoping he could fully stop the wound bleeding before the monster noticed what an easy target the three of them were.

Virgil seemed to have noticed that at the same time the creature had because as it let out a small snort of amusement and began to prepare itself to pounce, Virgil unleashed his energy which knocked it slightly off balance.

It hadn't seemed to have done much but it did what he'd wanted and got its attention off of the three crouched.

The only issue now was that it was looking at him instead.

He quickly turned and darted towards the trees, just barely dodging a swipe from its enormous paw.

He probably would have kept running in attempt to buy time for the others to get their strength back but that didn't happen.

Instead a loud shout of "Hey! Fuck face! Didn't anyone tell you that the Prince always slays the monster?!" drew everyone's attention, including the creature who spun on the spot.

Roman had a cocky grin on his face that seemed tired and worn but nevertheless he stood there with his teeth and sword gleaming, challenging the creature to try and fight him.

The creature tilted its head as it considered him before a large chuckle like growl rumbled from its chest and it turned its full focus onto him.

Roman didn't dare take his eyes off it as he got into a prepared stance with his sword.

The creature launched itself at Roman who swiped with his sword half heartedly as he quickly stepped out of the way.

As he expected the blade passed  through harmlessly and panic started to grip him but he shoved it down.

He couldn't afford to panic now, he needed to think of something quickly to protect everyone.

The creature's lips were pulled up in a taunting grin as it turned to look at him and swiped a paw at Roman too fast for him to dodge.

He let out a grunt of pain as he was half thrown to the floor, blood starting to seep from the slash marks left by the creatures claws.

The creature seemed to deem him as not a threat as it turned once again to Thomas, Patton and Logan who had been slowly trying to sneak further back between the trees.

A burst of energy suddenly hit the creature and Virgils voice echoed through the clearing, deep and terrifying.

"Stay away from them!"

The creature let out a frustrated growl and shook off the energy that was curling around it, it's eyes locking onto where Virgil stood.

It snarled and quickly sprang towards him with its mouth open ready to tear into him.

Before it could make contact it came to a stop, it's jaws slamming shut on nothing and a slight surprised yelp coming from it.

Virgils eyes widened as he spotted Roman standing behind the creature, its long tail wound around his hands as he pulled it backwards.

The creatures momentary shock was swiftly replaced by a murderous rage and it spun quickly, attempting to get at Roman.

Roman darted out of the way, hands still on the tail, a grin on his face as the thing slightly reminded him of a dog trying to catch it's tail.

The creature swished it's tail and Roman braced himself as his feet left the ground.

Before the creature could react, Roman landed on it's back, immediately grabbing hold and kicking with his heels to try and hurt the thing.

The creature made a sharp barking sound as Romans heels connected and started shaking and bucking to try and get him off.

Roman grit his teeth, a determined expression on his face as he began pulling himself closer to the things head.

Virgil watched the two, momentarily frozen in place but jolted back to his senses and ran towards where Thomas and the others were.

Randomly, as Roman slowly scaled the creature, he was reminded of the scene in The Jungle Book where Baloo had hold of Shere Khans tail.

He shook his head at the bizarre thought and managed to get to the beasts shoulders just as it seemed to get an idea.

A snarl of annoyance was all the warning Roman got before the thing ran and jumped in an attempt to knock him off with low hanging tree branches.

Roman grit his teeth as he felt sharp branches and twigs jabbing into him but managed to hold on, slowly inching his way closer to it's neck.

A loud roar of frustration rumbled beneath Roman and he took a deep breath before lunging the rest of the way, his arms wrapping round the creatures thick neck.

It was like someone had turned the difficulty up on a mechanical bull, the shadowy form immediately began to shake and throw itself around, a constant stream of nightmarish noises emanating from its mouth.

Roman started squeezing his arms like he was giving the thing a bear hug, his legs barely able to maintain their grip.

The thing started to become more frantic in it's attempts to get rid of Roman, colliding with tree trunks and eventually slamming onto the floor in an attempt to get him to release the grip he had with his legs.

The creature was throwing him around like a rag doll but it also seemed to be slowly weakening as it's movements became more sluggish and the growls started to sound raspy and strangled from where Romans grip was still around its neck.

It huffed and snarled before slamming itself into the ground, making Roman cry out in pain as his leg impacted at full force with a startling cracking sound and the creatures weight pressing down on it.

Roman was now partially pinned by the creatures weight and he could feel his own strength beginning to fade as the pain from his various injuries started to make themselves known in earnest and it felt like someone was trying to rip him in half.

Maintaining the grip on the things neck became the only thing he could focus on, he didn't dare let his attention wander in case it was all the creature needed to escape his grasp and begin its rampage all over again.

He closed his eyes and screwed up his face in pure concentration as he kept his iron hold, ignoring the immense pain pulsing through his abdomen from where his previous wound had been torn wide open again and ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind that was telling him he probably wasn't going to make it.

He didn't care at the moment, he just needed to protect the ones he loved, his own fate be damned.

the shadowy horror let out a pained whine as it's breaths became more laboured and it's form seemed to flicker.

After a tense few moments it's struggles stilled and a loud rattling breath signalled they'd finally overcome the monster.

silence enveloped the clearing as the creatures body dissipated, leaving a small amount of ash behind and Roman who lay on his side, his breathing ragged and his white outfit stained various shades of red from his multitude of injuries.

"Roman!"

Virgil sprinted to Romans side, gently pulling him into his lap as he surveyed the damage with worry written across his face at the sight of what looked like fresh blood. "Hey, can you hear me? Roman?"

after a few gasping breaths Roman opened his eyes and a small half hearted grin came to his lips. "Hey beautiful, come here often?"

Virgil let out a hysterical laugh at the attempted joke, shaking his head. "Of course that's your first response after all this. right, I'm going to sit you up and then we're going to try and help you to your feet and..."

Virgils voice cut off as Roman shook his head, tears running down his cheeks.

"What? what is it?"

Roman closed his eyes at the worry and panic in Virgils voice, dreading what he knew he had to say.

"I'm sorry Virge, I should have listened to you earlier instead of worrying about doing the honourable thing. I guess it's only fitting that I pay the price for it as it was my own mistake..."

Virgils eyes widened in horror as he realised what Roman was angling at. "No, no no no no no, don't speak like that, everything's going to be fine, we'll get you healed and get you to a bed to rest and..."

Roman raised a hand and shakily cupped Virgils cheek with a sad smile. "We both know that's bullshit. you're never one to sugar coat stuff so please don't start now. I'm in a right state and it's miraculous I'm hanging on right now as it is. Take care of everyone for me..."

Virgil was full on crying now as he held Roman in a tight hug, battling the denial of what was going on.

"what's going on? He's speaking like he's saying goodbye."

Virgil sniffed and glanced to his side where Thomas had just knelt down.

"that's because I am. I'm sorry for all the stress and pain I ever caused any of you and I'm sorry for any I might cause by leaving but all that matters to me is that I saved you. As long as you're safe I don't care what happens to me."

"please don't go, I need you.." Virgil sobbed, ignoring the comforting hand Thomas had placed on his shoulder.

Roman looked up at virgil and gave him his best smile, despite the pain. "I love you Virgil. I have for a while and I always will. I wish we had more time together but as you yourself like to say, life's not fair. please take care of everyone for me, I'm going to miss you all so much."

Patton and Logan had managed to make their way to them now and Romans voice started to tremble.

"You guys are finally free of him, or it or whatever the fuck that thing was and I'm glad I was able to do this for you all before succumbing to this."

The four faces around him began to blur as Roman felt his strength leaving him and his eyelids began to flicker shut, his breathing stuttering out as he managed one final sentence.

"I'm sorry to put you through this again Virge... look after each other... please... for me..."

Romans form went limp in Virgils arms and the side in question let out a howl of anguish and despair as he lost yet another person he loved.

Thomas buried his face into Virgils shoulder while Logan and Patton held each other, each of them crying and mourning the loss of their brave friend.

After several moments Virgil let out a small whispered goodbye and the body began to fade, seeming to take part of him with it. With nothing to cling to he fell face first into the dirt and remained there while he sobbed.

Thomas glanced up at the other two and saw their matching grief stricken expressions, the very same one probably on his own face.

"w... we need to t... try and fix things."

The stuttered sentence was enough to spark some sort of response from Virgil who pushed himself up from the floor and glared, his face caked in mud and tears.

"There is no fixing this." He growled through gritted teeth and his energy whirled around him violently until he was blocked from view and then it dissipated leaving the spot he had been completely empty.

An awkward tense silence fell as the three exchanged looks of worry and uncertainty. There was no telling how things would go now. There was definitely no way they'd ever get things back to how they were, the best they could do now would be to just survive and endure it a day at a time.

Authors note: And so ends the story of how Thomas and the sides battled to escape The Grip Of Depression also known as Preston. I'm sure there will be many people who aren't happy about how it ended and all I'll say to that is...watch this space ;)

Wow, this was one hell of a chapter to write and I sure took my sweet ass time huh? it's literally taken me years to finish this but I did it and I'm actually proud of myself because I managed to actually see a project through to completion. Thank you to everyone who's left comments, whether they were one word reactions to something I'd written or full on rants, I'm grateful to every one of you as motivation has been a big issue and the comments helped me push through. I would also like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this, no matter if you interacted or not, I appreciate you all, thank you for joining me through the ups and (considerably large number) downs of this story.

🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍💕💖

#In The Grip Of Depression #prinxiety #logicality #roman angst #virgil angst #patton angst #logan angst #thomas angst #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #tw violence #tw death #tw major character death #tw injury #tw blood #tw abuse #tw threats #tw torture #tw suicide

[always-there]

About romance

I am a helpless sucker for romance.

I consume romance webcomics and manga and dramas and movies. I read romance books. I draw romance webcomics. I write romance novels, I write them so hard the first one's gonna see the public light in September.

And yet, if Romance as much as tries to sneak its way within a perimeter of 100 miles around me... I'll instantly barf on its rosy head.

It's weird. I literally giggle like a schoolgirl when something cheesy happens on TV. I almost died a thousand deaths reading Check! Please, and every time a new chapter of Koikimo came out I would dive into the couch with a hot cup of tea or a bowl of soup or whatever hot beverage that made my guts as warm and fuzzy as my heart.

But when my friends tell me about their Valentine's Day plans, or their anniversary plans, or whatever plan involving a special date and a special person, and the cute little surprises they've prepared for their loved ones... I just cringe so hard I wish I could murder. I would positively end someone's life so they'd stop telling me the details of the heart-shaped fake rose petals they bought to cover their bed or the romantic Couple's Getaway they booked to spend a weekend at a lovely Bed & Breakfast for their anniversary.

Public displays of affection irk me. If the fur of a plushie holding one of those tacky *I love you* felt hearts touches my skin, I have to bathe for three days. Love in real life really, really makes me all kinds of uncomfortable.

Now, unlike the heroes and heroines of this noble genre, I am not oblivious to my own feelings. I'm a survivor of abuse, and the partners I had before and after that cursed relationship were consistently crappy, each in their own way. I can understand why I am reluctant to indulge in sentimental intimacy, to be elegant, and avoid saying I'd rather have one of my legs amputated with a teaspoon before allowing anyone near me again.

It's a whole can of worms that I worked on, I'm working on, and that I'll probably have to work on for the rest of my life. No argument there.

What I sometimes struggle to analyze if I still have this capacity to embrace romance at all.

People who read my content tend to be touched by it. I've learned it's extremely difficult for an amateur to convincingly write about stuff they have no experience with. But somehow, I manage to craft something similar to love. I'm not subtly praising myself, not at all. I'm just trying to understand this mess. Perhaps It's a rationalization. I believe that this should work like that, and I develop a theory of sorts based on that.

Maybe it's the fact that I don't really believe in romantic love, so it's easy for me to manipulate it and enjoy it in fiction. Like a fairytale. I know there's no way in hell a noble would defy the kingdom and marry a plebeian, and that there's no way that the plebeian's legs or chest would be so smooth in that historical context, so that's precisely why I find it so charming.

If you ask me, yeah, indeed, romantic love does not exist. The best I can concede to you is a chemical rush of the brain that makes us bond with a compatible partner, and from then on... the real love starts.

And when I say real love, I mean choices. Constant choices. I choose to wake up next to you today. And I will make the same choice tomorrow, and the day after that, until we both drop dead or until I stop choosing to do it.

I choose to fight with you, I choose to waste time of my brief weekend visiting your relatives, I choose to create new human beings with you, and to have you see my miseries and wonders, and be a witness of yours.

That's why some relationships are so fucked up. If we make bad, terrible choices with our daily nutrition, we can also make bad, terrible choices with the people we choose to date. Let Future Me deal with the consequences of eating this 5000 calories fast food meal. Let Future Me deal with the consequences of ignoring all these red flags.

At the end of the day, that's all; reasonable, sensible choices, made with the head once the heart has grown tired of providing the only fuel needed to go on.

That's the kind of love that endures, and that's the kind of love that is, well, generally ugly.

You can't argüe with this. It is not pretty. Sleepless nights taking turns to clean poopy diapers. Smelling bad breath in the morning, or shit from the bathroom after a heavy dinner. Arguments, annoyance, the pressure of keeping a good sex life, drifting apart, crises, bills.

It reeks of agony. And yet, the sole fact of still choosing the other despite those, the amazing sacrifice of compromising, that's love.

It's just a kind of love that I don't think -No, I'm certain, I won't ever be able to offer, nor I will ever have the need to receive.

And if I don't want that, it makes sense I wouldn't want the fluffy stuff that comes before it.

Anyway. It's kinda thrilling to create content that is attractive to people on a topic to which I am so personally foreign. It's a bit of a stupid inner joke by now. Yeah, I made my characters nuzzle and you fainted from pure joy, but the truth is, I'm dead inside. Lol.

You guys should check Life Lessons with Uramichi Onii-San. That's pretty much what I mean to say.

#romance #love #dead inside #novel #comic #webcomics #romantic #writer #my family's lineage ends with me #uramichi oniisan

[cchellacat]

It’s Just A Little Crush

Anon ask.  Prompt, no rush.  “My cock is prettier than that.”  Comparatively.  

I’m assuming for any Seb Character and I had the perfect idea for a short wintershock for it. Enjoy.

Bucky/Darcy 18+  A little smutty, very fluffy.

 Bucky rummaged through the drawers, moving things about, cursing under his breath.  He was sure she must have a hair tie somewhere. Usually he’d find them lying about the apartment, on tables, under cushions, dropped in the cat bowl my Mr Floofypants. 

Today though, it seemed there wasn’t one to be had.  It’s why he’s here, in her room searching, he’s meant to be going over to the compound for some additional training of the new recruits. 

Ever since Darcy had moved in he’d not needed to buy any of his own which had been a godsend because he was always loosing them.

Having Darcy as a roommate had worked out pretty well.  The last six months had been the happiest in years.  She was certainly a better roommate than Steve, if only for the fact that she could actually cook.  They swapped nights for cooking and clean up, it was a good arrangement.  

He’d never have imagined that he’d be comfortable with someone else in the apartment, but when Steve moved out to move in with Natasha he’d realised that the rent on this place was going to take a chunk out of his pay check.  He’d eventually resorted to putting a note on the board in the break room at the compound.  He’d never expected a single girl like Darcy to want to move in, he figured it would be one of the guys from the security teams or another agent. 

The apartment was too good to give up though, perfect access to the city and a reasonable commute to the compound.  He loved the place.  

The day he put the notice up she’d hunted him down twenty minutes later, waving the note like a victory flag.  He’d been too stunned at the bouncing chattering bombshell to tell her no.  She’d ran him over with a mixture of charm and sass.

Honestly, at the time he thought she was crazy.  He was at least twice her size and had a foot on her, but she just bustled around him and bossed him about without a care.  He loved it.  He’d never tell her, but she made him feel normal again.  Somehow, she didn’t see a monster when she looked at him, she just saw him, Bucky.  

He moved to the next drawer and tugged at it, finally getting it open he stopped in surprise. He could feel a flush rising in his cheeks at the contents and slammed the drawer shut on instinct.  He really shouldn’t be in here, going through her things, what the hell had he been thinking?  

His mind however wouldn’t let him move away, he was froze in place.  Listening intently to make sure he was alone, he tugged open the drawer again and bit his lip.  Under a gauzy piece of lace he could see the outline a red star.  Pushing the panties aside he saw it.  A vibrator, silver with a red star at the top.  He didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or smug.  He’d known she had one, their rooms might be on opposite sides of the apartment but he had excellent hearing. 

He was half hard just thinking about it, about the noises she made while getting herself off.  He’d lain awake in agony the first few times, trying to ignore it, the breathy little moans she made, but it was impossible not to picture her, legs spread wide, her dainty hands working into her pussy.  Eventually he’d give in to the urge and he’d palmed himself, stoking his cock to the sound of her pleasure, coming with her with a muffled moan of his own into a pillow.  

The only downside to living with Darcy was sporting a hard on at the most inopportune times.  The dame was handful, she didn’t seem to register him as any type of threat and would waltz through the living room in nothing but panties and a t shirt that barely skimmed her bottom.  She had no problem barging into the bathroom while he showered to brush her teeth or hurry through the kitchen in nothing but a towel.  If it had been any other woman, he’d have thought she was doing it on purpose, but she seemed completely oblivious to the effect she had on him.  

He lifted the vibrator and turned it in his hand.  The red star seemed to be mocking him.  It couldn’t be a coincidence though, surely?  He looked around the room, really looked and started to notice things he must have been overlooking before.  There were at least three of his t shirts, two on the floor and one over a chair, she’d been wearing them to bed lately.  Then there was the cork board on one wall.  Pictures of the two of them. 

The day they’d went to the zoo in central park.

A selfie taken at a little coffee shop in Soho she’d insisted had the best espresso in the city.

A snap he didn’t realise had been taken in the communal area at the compound during am movie night.  The same night there hadn’t been enough seats for everyone.  He’d hauled her up into his lap when she’d been about to sit on the floor.  It had been a good night, he’s enjoyed every second, having her nestled into him, her had resting on his chest as they watched the movie, it had been all he could do not to let her feel the hard on he’d had for the majority of the night with all the squirming she’d seemed to be doing. 

Now he looks back on all those moments and reassesses.    Breakfasts and dinners together, he always drove her to work, she always packed him lunch… they had been doing everything together except sleeping together.  How the hell had all this slipped past him?

He’d been so busy ruminating that he failed to notice the front door opening, so when Darcy suddenly appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, her mouth open in shock and a bright blush spreading quickly over her cheeks, he’d dropped the fuckin vibrator to the floor. The subsequent buzzing that issued from it had Darcy make some inarticulate sound of rage and horror and had her running from the room, the front door slamming loudly in her wake as she took off.  

Bucky swore colourfully and grabbed the damned vibrator, switching it off after a brief fumble and then went after her. 

 Darcy nearly tripped twice trying to get as far from Bucky and the apartment as possible.  Her whole body was shaking with a mixture of mortification and anger.  Part of her wants to turn around and storm back in there, give him a piece of her mind for going through her things, the other half of her brain is screaming with embarrassed fury, urging her to run.  

Oh god, why did he do that? She’s been so fucking good about not giving her super massive crush on him away.   She liked the apartment, she liked him and the strange little routine they’d made.  She loved spending time with him.   Fuck, what on earth possessed him to go pawing through her knicker drawer?

She only made it a few blocks before she heard him behind her, shouting her name.  She keeps going, ignoring him, trying to compose herself before he inevitably caught up with her.  The sound of heavy foot falls had her scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve, her feet still moving her along.

The feel of a large hand catching her elbow to stop her had her freeze, stopping abruptly, she let out a surprised oomph as he stumbled into her, his arm catching around her waist to stop her toppling forward.  

“Darcy….”  She didn’t move, her back pressed to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard.  He trailed off and she kept her eyes shut, wondering when he would let go of her, instead, he sighed behind her and his other arm came around her waist.

“Darcy, I’m sorry.  I was just looking for a hair tie, I swear I wasn’t snoopin through your things for anything…   fuck.  This really isn’t coming out right.  Please just say something Darce, shout, tell me off…  just don’t stop talking to me doll.”

“I am so fucking embarrassed right now Barnes.”

“Don’t be, this is my fault, I wasn’t thinking and…   I’m sorry sweetheart.  I am really fucking sorry.”

“Can we pretend it never happened?”  She asks in a small voice.

Bucky turns her in his arms.

“Darce…”  she doesn’t look up at him, her eyes now firmly fixed on the avengers logo on his tight black t-shirt.

“Just…   I just want to go home.”  she says quickly, hoping to stave off any more discussion of the incident.

“Alright.  Lets go home.”  He sighs and lets her step back from him, but instead of walking beside her on the way back, he throws an arm round her shoulder and pulls her into his side.

All the touching is going to her head.  She doesn’t get it.  He’s never this touchy feely with her.  I mean sure, she is with him, all the time, but he hardly ever reciprocates.  She’s thankful for his continued silence right up until they reach the apartment and then she’s nearly shaking with nerves.  She knows he doesn’t want to drop the subject, she almost dreads stepping through the door.

As soon as they’re through she hurries off to her room, closing the door tightly behind her.  The silver vibrator lies mockingly on the bed and she feels her face heat again with embarrassment.  She grabs it and angrily stuffs it back in the drawer.  She is going to kill Jane for buying the damn thing as a gag birthday gift for her.  As her best friend she was the only one to know about Darcy’s crush on Bucky.  For a stuffy scientist, Jane sure did have a pretty dirty sense of humour.  

She can’t face going back out into the apartment proper, so she undresses quickly and pulls on a t-shirt. It’s not until she curled up in bed that she realises it’s one of him.  She is so done, what on earth must he think of her now?  

It’s a few hours later that she’s startled by a knock at her door.

“Darcy, can I come in?”

She pulls the covers round her and debates on it, but ultimately, if he was going to bring it up, it was better to get it out of the way now, rather then draw it out.  

“Come in.”

The door opens and he stands in the doorway.  He’s changed too.  Soft sweat pants and a tank top.  Fuck, she loved him in a tank top, it showed off everything. Every toned muscles and line. Was it her fault she found him so attractive?  No, she’s pretty sure anyone who spent a half hour in his company would feel the effects. He’s got a charm about him that draws you in whether you want it to or not.  

He only hesitates for a moment before coming to sit on the bed beside her.

“What do you want?” she asks, far too aware of how close he was to her.  

“I wanted to make sure we were okay and…  Look, Darcy, I…”  

She can see he’s struggling to say something.

“Just spit out, okay?”

Instead of saying anything he seems to come to some decision and leans forward, his eyes locked on hers. She can feel her own eyes grow wide in shock. 

She’s pretty sure he’s about to kiss her.  Unconsciously she leans into him, unspoken permission given and then his lips are on her and she can’t think of anything other than the delicious rasp of his beard tickling her face and the softness of his mouth as he draws her closer.  It’s soft and sweet, the kind of kiss that has her wondering if it was a dream, it felt so perfect.  When he pulls away from her she’s stunned silent and somehow she’s ended up sitting on his lap.

“Wish I’d figured out before now that you liked me, we coulda been doing this for months.”  The flickering amusement in his eyes has her tummy doing flips.

“God you’re sure of yourself Barnes.”

He just grins at her and nudges her nose with his, places tiny soft kisses along the edge of her mouth, teasing her mercilessly.  She can’t help but grn right back, returning the kisses with some of her own. 

He’s going slow with her, afraid if he comes on too strong she might run again.  It’s a struggle not to tumble them both over so he can have her under him, but he restrains himself and seduces her kiss by kiss. 

He lets her set the pace but once she’s over her shock things progress quickly,  clothes are quickly discarded, scattered around the room as the urgency between then ignites.

it’s like fire in her veins, the kisses he presses to her skin feel like they are inked into her soul.  When he finally enters her she wants to stay in that moment, never leave it.  He feels so good inside her, hot and hard and stretching her, his hands ad mouth wandering, kissing her everywhere, tracing her skin reverently with calloused fingertips.  Darcy babbles out all her thoughts aloud between cursing and whimpering his name.  It’s like a dance, bodies moving in slow motion as skin presses into skin, the feel of him pinning her down so gently has her canting her hips sharply, encouraging him to be less careful, silently telling him that she’s not made of glass.  She comes with a wail of his name ghosting over her lips and then he has her on her knees, taking her from behind, his large body pressed to her back, kissing into her neck, one arm tucked under her, fingers wandering south. 

in the aftermath, Darcy just wants to sleep.  She feels so warm and satisfied, curled up on his chest, his heart beating in her ear.   She risks a glace at his face and her smile widens at his hum of approval.

“You know.”  He begins, stroking his hand through her hair.  “My cock is prettier than that.”   He gestures vaguely towards the chest of drawers where the vibrator was in hiding and she giggles into his skin.  

“You are so full of it Barnes.”

“I think you got that mixed up doll, pretty sure you were full of me!”

When they finally stop giggling like a couple of teenagers, he pulls her in close and kisses her again.  She snuggles up and closes her eyes. 

Maybe she’ll buy Jane a gift basket instead.

#wintershock #bucky/darcy #smut #lemon #fluff #It's just a little crush #hbc drunk drabbles

[artificialqueens]

And so we run (ch.8) - Traumathicc

A/N: This... took longer than I thought it would. Anyway! The disscussion over if backpacks are acceptable weapons is totally valid discourse.

”Courtney! Did you find something?”

Bianca waits for a few seconds but Courtney isn’t responding. Gia watches her all too familiar routine of automatically reaching down and grabbing the gun at her hip as she casts her a worried glance.

Just as Bianca’s about to call a second time, Courtney finally reappears. It doesn’t take long for the both of them to figure out that something’s wrong.

”Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost or something.” Bianca tries in a softer voice that doesn’t really suit her.

Courtney stays silent for a moment. Then she takes a deep breath.

”It wasn’t anything important. Just… just a dead deer. Let’s keep moving.”

She walks past Gia and Bianca and starts powerwalking into the woods. Bianca sighs and follows her. Gia has to get into a small sprint to catch up with the both of them. She makes sure that Courtney is far away enough that she doesn’t hear them. Then she tugs at Bianca’s sleeve.

”There was a voice”

”What the fuck are you talking about?”

Gia had no idea there was such a thing as a loud whisper up until this moment. Fascinating. She rolls her eyes.

”Back with Court. I swear I could hear someone talking that wasn’t her.”

”You sure it wasn’t that deer?” Bianca snarks.

”Deer don’t sound like… like that.”

”That? How that?”

”I dunno… in… agony?”

Biancas jaw clenches. She looks at Courtney. Then Gia. Then Courtney again.

”Look, let’s just- let’s just say it was a deer, ok? And please. Never bring it up again.”

”But-”

”Please.” Bianca gives her that vulnerable look she had back at the tree again. “Don’t do it for me.”

Courtney suddenly turns around.

“What’re you two whispering about?”

She has a little too much forced optimism in her voice, and her smile is a bit too wide for someone who saw a dead “deer” five minutes ago.

“Just talking over the plans for a potential raid. Y’know, point A to point B stuff.” Bianca ensures her.

”Oh, good!” Courtney beams and turns back to the road ahead. Bianca starts biting her lip. Gia decides against pushing the subject and just looks down at her feet for the next ten minutes.

Then Bianca stops and Gia almost trips over herself trying not to bump into her.

”Do you guys see that?”

”Smoke” Courtney confirms. ”Yeah. Let’s investigate.”

They take a detour around the clearing where the trail of smoke is rising up from behind the trees. Courtney finds a large rock and they all huddle behind it, weapons drawn. Bianca, who’s positioned in the middle, perks her head up to get a better look at the situation. When she ducks back down, she has a smug look on her face which Gia knows means they just struck gold.

”There’s food, packed meals, supplies, clean water, all unattended!” Gia really needs to teach Bianca how to whisper like a proper human being. ”This is- it’s almost too easy!”

”Exactly” Courtney whispers back (at least she knows how to, Gia thinks) ”There’s a huge risk that this is actually a trap. But we still shouldn’t pass up this opportunity. We need to be careful.”

They slowly get up from behind the rock all at once and start walking towards the unattended camp in what Gia likes to call “the starfish formation.” Bianca walks forward facing the front, while Gia and Courtney walk with their backs turned to her, facing the back and sides. Gia can practically smell the food when, sure enough, a bush to her left starts to rustle. She sighs. Of course this was a fucking trap.

Bianca breaks up the starfish immediately and goes to investigate, gun in one hand and pocketknife in the other. It’s like the bush tenses up, and Gia swears she hears whispering coming from it.

What follows is basically a blur of red hair bursting from within the bush like one of those aliens in old horror movies. Bianca points her gun at the head of what appears to be an unarmed girl, safe for her backpack which she could technically swing at someone’s head if she so wished. The fact that this girl literally brought a backpack to a gunfight doesn’t really matter though, as another girl suddenly pops out from the thick vegetation and draws a bow at Bianca’s back before either Gia or Courtney can do anything.

“Drop the gun.” Her voice is calm, but tense with worry. Clearly the unarmed girl means a lot to her.

”I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. What w-”

”I said DROP. THE. GUN.”

Well, the girl is officially pissed. Why does Bianca have to be such a cunt now of all times?

”Ivy, please.” The girl with the backpack suddenly speaks up. ”They clearly just want the food, same as us. And there’s more than enough to to around! Besides, we can hunt if we run out, maybe they can’t?”

Ivy sighs. ”You’re right. But I won’t drop my weapon until they’ve dropped theirs.”

”And why should we trust you?” Bianca snaps.

”Just drop them. Please. For your own sake.” Gia can’t help but snicker. Backpack girl is clearly more than done with Bianca’s bullshit.

Bianca groans and actually puts both her knife and gun down. Gia and Courtney follow suit. Ivy looks pleased and puts her bow on her back. Then she walks over to her friend.

”I’m Ivy. And this is my partner, Jinkx.”

Courtney, Bianca and Gia all introduce themselves. Of course, all of them already vaguely know each other from the training period, but back in that place opening up to strangers was generally frowned upon. Both by the organizers and the contestants.

Probably because you could be talking to your future murderer.

A more than awkward silence ensues before Bianca speaks up again.

”Why would you even jump out like that anyway? You’re not armed! I could’ve killed you!”

Jinkx’s face grows red with embarrassment. “We were going to try peaceful negotiation at first…”

“... And it didn’t exactly work out. Well, I’m glad we’re all still in one piece.” Ivy fills in.

“Well, that’s about the stupidest thing I’ve heard today.” Bianca mutters.

“Also, for the record, I’m not unarmed.” Jinkx reassures. “I have knives in the bag!”

“Then whY WOULDN’T YOU TAKE- you know what? Forget it. Let’s just grab the stuff and get out of here before whoever set this up gets back.”

Ivy and Courtney have already walked over to the camp and started piling up on food and supplies. Gia is about to join them when she’s almost impaled by a knife thrown seemingly out of nowhere. She lets out a small squeal and reaches for her gun.

”Looks like we’ve got company… Again.”

Everyone draws their weapons in silence as Roxxxy and Detox step into the clearing. A chill runs down Gia’s spine when she realizes Alaska is missing.

”What? Not even a ’hello?’ That’s rude.” Roxxxy smirks and points her spear at Bianca.

Gia’s heart almost explodes out of fear when she hears Bianca sigh. The fact that she just scolded Jinkx for having an apparent death wish suddenly seems very hypocritical.

—————————————————————

”Y’know, I’m getting real tired of you people pointing shit at me all fucking day. Do I look like a fucking landmark to you cunts?”

Bianca’s right hand is ghosting the handle of her gun. But she steadies herself.

Not yet.

”She’s right, she doesn’t” Detox snickers. ”Although I reckon she’d make a nice pincushion…”

Roxxxy laughs a little too hard at that joke. Detox proceeds to take out both her guns at once and spin them around on her fingers by the trigger like some sort of cliche action character. The guns both stop spinning at the same time, perfectly synchronized, and pointed at Bianca.

What did she just tell these two bitches?

“Where is the Reaper?” It’s Ivy who speaks up. She already has a bow loaded with three arrows pointed at Roxxxy.

“She’s off dealing with our little… provider.” Roxxxy gestures towards the now dead campfire. This results in Detox giving Roxxxy a look dripping with annoyance and mild disappointment.

“What? I figured we’d let them know since they’re ‘bout to die anyway!”

Detox just sighs and curses under her breath. In another life, her and Bianca could possibly have made very good friends.

”Well, speaking of which, this has gone on for long enough, wouldn’t you agree?” Roxxxy takes a step forward, her eyes practically nailed to Biancas. ”Any last words before we release you from this miserable shitshow?”

Bianca’s hand is gripped around her gun now. Her finger grazes the trigger.

Not yet.

”Nothing? How about you?” She turns to Ivy and Gia. Then to Courtney. ”Really? Fuck, you guys are boring. What about Firefox in the back?”

Her eyes lock on Jinkx, who’s standing in front of a pile of packed sandwiches with a knife in each hand.

“... leave.”

Detox raises an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“I… said… LEAVE”

Now.

Bianca draws her gun, without taking her eyes off Roxxxy. She’s about to lunge herself at this bitch with everything she has when, suddenly, she hears a strange *woosh* to her right.

Then what sounds like someone getting stabbed.

Her and Roxxxy turn at the exact same time. Bianca’s eyes don’t even have time to take in what she’s looking at before she hears Ivy whispering.

“That… that wasn’t me… I didn’t make that shot…”

Detox’s guns are at her feet. Her hands are instead clasped around the arrow that just buried itself in between her ribs. Her eyes are glazed with shock and confusion. She turns to face Roxxxy, who has dropped her spear and is just staring at her friend in disbelief.

”oh…”

Roxxxy lets out a strangled sob as Detox hits the ground with a sigh.

”NO!”

Everyone, including Bianca, stand frozen in position as Roxxxy practically throws herself over to her fallen partner and starts cradling her lifeless body. She gently presses their foreheads together as she half sobs half mumbles incomprehensible nothings to ears that will never hear again.

It’s horrible to watch. Gia has her eyes closed and head tilted down, and Courtney is covering her mouth with her hands. Jinkx is still paralyzed from the shock of it all. She hasn’t moved an inch since she gave them the warning.

As much as Bianca would love to turn around, she has to remind herself that they’re all still in relative danger. Grief does not only breed sadness, it breeds anger. Hatred. Spite.

A lust for vengeance.

*creak*

The sudden and unfamiliar noise fills the campsite. Bianca barely has time to register it before Ivy shouts ”EVERYONE DUCK!”

Another *woosh* whines past Bianca’s head, and another arrow hits the ground just two feet away from Roxxxy. This causes her to look up, and suddenly her expression changes.

”You…”

Something red flashes behind the trees left of them, and the sound of footsteps now has everyones full attention. No one says anything as Roxxxy grabs her spear and bags and starts running after the assailant. No one moves as the noises of their heels hitting the wooden floor fades into the wilderness.

Jinkx is the first one to walk over to the abandoned corpse. She gets down on her knees and strokes the hair out of her face. Then she presses her fingers against her eyelids, closing them.

”She looks so tranquil… it’s awful.” Jinkx whispers as she lays Detox down to rest.

”Should we… bury her?” Gia asks hesitantly.

”It isn’t safe to stay here. We should take everything that we’ve gathered and leave before Roxxxy eventually comes back.” Courtney replies.

”You’re right.” Ivy puts a hand on Jinkx’ shoulder. ”We’ve done everything we can already. Let’s move.”

Bianca stuffs as many bottles of water into her bag as she can. No one else says anything for the remainder of the raid. As they set out into the woods again, the sun is already setting.

#rpdr fanfiction #gia gunn #bianca del rio #courtney act #jinkx monsoon #ivy winters #roxxxy andrews #and so we run #hunger games au #traumathicc #tw blood #tw death #detox icunt

[vincent-frankenstein]

To My Heart and Soul

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | you are here | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | read on AO3 ]

Warnings: major character death, villain/abusive deceit, blood, fighting, panic attacks, creepy imagery

Pairings: logince, hints of moxiety, a tiny smidge of remile and past abusive anxceit

Logan barely had time to react before Toby slammed his foot into the ground, sending out a wave of magic that shoved Logan right out of the dragon’s grasp. He slammed into one of the dragon’s piles and slid to the floor in a cascade of junk, black spots dancing before his eyes as he struggled to get a hold on his breath.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer terror the dragon evoked. She was massive, her long body coiled around and around to fit inside the building. Her head alone was the side of a small truck. Jagged, razor-sharp teeth jutted out from her jaw, and smoke billowed from her tapered snout, sparks flying through the air. Logan shook from head to toe, terror reaching up his throat to choke away all logic. He couldn’t breathe.

Patton and Toby moved in unison, firing off brightly-colored spells that collided with the dragon’s scaly hide with a noise like a train crash. She roared and let loose a volley of flames, which Toby just barely blocked with a flickering orange shield.

Logan balled his hands into fists and squeezed hard enough to draw blood, until the pain drove away his terror, until he’d regained some semblance of logical thought. There had to be something he could do to help. He wasn’t quite ready to reveal his connection to Roman just yet, too wary of what the dragon’s reaction could be — but that didn’t mean he had to be completely useless. He sucked in a deep, shaking breath, glancing around the room.

There! When Toby blasted him backwards, the weapon fell from his hands and landed embedded in a pile off to his right. He watched the battle for a moment — Patton pushed his hands through the air and a bright blue whip lashed around the dragon’s hind legs — and then he set off, inching along the edge of the pile, his hands tightening around his shield generator. If he could just reach the weapon, he could get it out of there. He could ensure their mission was complete.

The dragon’s tail swiped through the air above his head, sending the top of one pile flying. It clattered to the ground with a horrible noise, breaking Toby’s concentration. Logan froze, pressing himself back against the pile, but when he was sure he hadn’t been seen he continued.

The hilt of the weapon glowed in the firelight, and it seemed to grow brighter as he approached, as if it knew he was coming. He darted from the edge of one pile to the edge of another, inching around the perimeter until the weapon was close enough to touch. Hand shaking, he reached out and yanked it from the pile — and in doing so dislodged something very big and very heavy higher up in the pile, which came crashing down at his feet with a deafening clatter.

The dragon froze mid-fire breath, whipping her long neck around to stare right at Logan. He froze solid, his limbs locking with panic, his hands twisting around the hilt of the weapon — and his mind blanked beyond holy shit, holy shit, so this is how I die —

“Logan!” Patton darted forward, yanking the shield generator from Logan’s hands and slamming it into the ground just before the dragon’s massive claw came down on them. “What are you doing?”

He tried to answer, really, but all he could produce was a terrified squeak. Patton opened his mouth, glancing over his shoulder at Logan — and the dragon used his distraction and swiped through his shield with ease, knocking him into Toby and sending them both flying. They slammed into a wall and slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap.

And oh, wasn’t that just perfect. Logan stumbled backwards, mind racing — Patton and Toby weren’t moving, and the dragon was peering at him like a particularly nasty insect, and he had to get them out of there, somehow, but he couldn’t even breathe, let alone think — and the dragon lowered her massive head, until she was so close that Logan could feel her blisteringly hot breath. Sparks brushed against his skin.

“How did you even get in here?” she wondered, her long, snake-like tail wrapping around his middle and squeezing. Red-hot pain cracked through his ribcage as she lifted him off his feet, and he choked, darkness tugging at the corners of his vision. The end of her tail looped around the sword and tore it from his hands, and a cry tore itself from his throat. “Now, come on. That’s not yours, and you know it.”

The weapon’s warmth disappeared in a split second and the pain nearly doubled, flooding every inch of his body in a wave of agony. Black spots danced before his vision and he heaved for air, his lungs protesting every breath. He had to get the weapon back; he didn’t come this far just to die.

“Roman —” He gasped as the dragon’s tail tightened, choking on his own voice. She searched his face, eyes narrowing.

“What did you say?”

He winced, pain wracking his chest when he cleared his throat. “R-Roman,” he managed, his voice shaking and hoarse. “I know Roman.”

All at once, her grip loosened, and air flooded his lungs as he crashed to the floor. He doubled over, jagged agony shooting through every limb, colors popping behind his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes shut. He grit his teeth, a low whine building in the back of his throat. “F-Fuck,” he muttered, hands curling into shaking fists against the floor.

“How do you know him?” the dragon asked, and he could just barely hear her through the blood rushing in his ears. Was there anger, beneath her shock and confusion? He couldn’t tell. Logan breathed as well as he could through his broken ribs and raised his head to face the dragon.

“He was my h-husband,” he said, and the dragon’s eyes widened, a string of hissed curse words flying from her lips. She set the weapon gently on the ground and leaned in close, disbelief and concern warring in her emerald eyes.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “I — why didn’t you just say that?”

The pride at being right about the dragon knowing Roman was far overshadowed by the pain lacing through the growing numbness in his chest. He groaned, gasping for breath, and the dragon swore again. She gently lifted his head with the end of her tail, peering at him with narrowed eyes.

“Tell me again,” she said. “Tell me I can trust you.”

“He was my husband,” Logan said again, meeting her gaze with all the strength he could muster. “I loved him.”

She searched his face. “Logan,” she whispered. “You’re Logan.”

Had Roman told everyone in this world about him? He nodded weakly, falling against the dragon’s tail as pain spiked through his lungs. “Okay,” the dragon said, glancing around the room. “Um. Okay, okay, I — shit, you’re really messed up.”

“No shit,” Logan said, but it came out as a weak, wheezy groan. The dragon winced, her gaze falling on Patton and Toby.

“In my defense,” she said, “I thought you were just thieves. How was I supposed to know you’re my dad’s husband? I — I can’t heal you, do either of these humans know any healing spells?”

“Y-Yes,” Logan sad, and somehow he managed to lift his hand to point at Patton. A moment passed, then another — he blinked once, twice, the dragon’s words catching up to him — and then he froze. Her dad? “Wh — wait — how?” he spluttered, but the dragon had already curled up near Patton and Toby, poking at them with one claw.

Moving carefully, she pulled Patton off of Toby and propped them both up against the wall. She blew a burst of hot air against Patton’s face, and his eyes snapped open, a million emotions crossing his face all at once before he settled on fear. He jumped to his feet and blue sparks burst to life in his palms, spreading out into a long shield.

“S-Stay back!” he cried, as the dragon stood and glanced at Logan. Patton followed her gaze, and a cry of fright tore from his lips. “Logan? O-Oh no, are you okay? I’m coming kiddo, don’t worry!”

“Patton,” Logan yelled, “it’s alright! The dragon and I have reached an — an understanding!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the dragon said, with every ounce of comfort a giant, hulking beast with rows of razor-sharp teeth could muster. “I mean — not anymore.”

Patton glanced between the two of them, eyebrows furrowing. He took in Logan’s injuries, concern lining his face, and craned his neck to look at the dragon as confusion joined the mix. His shield flickered away after a long, tense moment, and he set his hands on his hips. “Well, I’m very confused!” he said with a nervous laugh.

“We can explain l-later,” Logan said. He tried to stand and agony jolted through his torso, sending him crashing back to the floor with a cry of pain. “P-Please heal me.”

Patton was at his side in an instant, blue-coated hands pressing firmly against his chest. Warmth flooded through the numbness and drove back the pain and he made a small noise of relief, eyes slipping shut.

“I’ll, uh. Wake up this human.” The dragon moved to turn, and Patton cried out to stop her, his magic flaring painfully through Logan.

“A-Ah, let me do that!’ he said, wincing apologetically at Logan. “He might try to attack you before he understands what’s going on.” He lifted his hands and shook away the excess magic, and then sat back, raising an eyebrow. “What… what is going on, bye the way?”

Logan stretched, breathing deeply with relief. “The Dragon’s Eye was engraved with a… a message that Roman gave me, years ago. I assumed that that meant that he had interacted with the dragon at some point, and I was right. Once I told her who I was, she stopped attacking.”

Patton pulled Toby into his lap, whispering words that made the bruises littered across his skin fade away. “How do you know Roman?” he asked the dragon, his voice as kind as ever. Logan blinked, something hot and uncomfortable seeping into his chest. The fact that Patton already trusted Logan enough to trust a dragon…

The lies he’d been telling settled deep in his gut and burned.

“He’s my father,” the dragon said, and Logan choked, because somehow he’d forgotten about that little detail. The dragon laughed, settling her head on her folded claws like a cat. “Not biologically, of course. My parents were killed before I even hatched. If he hadn’t found me and taken care of me… I would have died. He’s the closest thing to a dad I’ve got.”

Patton cooed softly, hugging Toby to his chest. Logan could practically sense the oncoming tears. “That’s so sweet,” he said, choked-up. “That sorta makes you my niece, huh? And Logan’s like your step-father!”

Logan blinked. Logically, that made sense. He had married Roman; therefore, the dragon was his step-daughter. Somehow, though, he hadn’t made that connection until Patton said it aloud. A step-daughter. He had a daughter.

He took a moment to recover, and cleared his throat. “Y-Yes. I suppose I am,” he said, as evenly as he could manage. He’d gone from being utterly alone to having a brother-in-law and a daughter — and as the shock faded, he realized that he didn’t mind in the slightest. He tried for a smile. “Do you have a name?”

“Seraphina,” the dragon said. “My friends call me Sera, or at least they would if I had any friends.”

Patton made a high-pitched noise of sympathy, and Logan raised an eyebrow. Was that a sincere statement, or a Hercules reference? The latter was extremely likely, considering she had been raised by Roman. “Right, Sera,” he began. “We need some —”

“Holy shit —”

And Toby was awake. He leaped from Patton’s lap with a cry of shock, orange magic flaring around his hands. “Get back, you two!” he yelled, swaying unsteadily. Logan jumped between him and Seraphina on instinct, throwing his arms wide, and Patton grabbed Toby’s arm and yanked him back down with a loud cry of fright. Toby staggered to the floor, his magic fizzing and sparking, confusion and anger flaring on his face.

“It’s okay!” Patton yelled, a bit louder than he had to. “It’s okay, she’s a good dragon!”

“What?” Toby fought to yank his arm from Patton’s grip, but Patton was far stronger than anyone gave him credit. There was no escape.

“She’s on our side,” Logan insisted, as Seraphina nodded vigorously, curling in on herself to appear smaller. “She knows Roman!”

“What?” Toby looked between the three of them, face lined with shock.

“She’s Logan’s daughter!” Patton finished, and Toby went stock-still.

“What.”

His magic flickered out, and Logan sagged with relief, shooting a glance at Seraphina over his shoulder. “I believe we have some explaining to do,” he said, sitting back down with a heavy sigh.

“Damn straight,” Toby growled.

“Damn gay,” Patton said, in a voice so similar to Roman’s that Logan’s heart skipped a beat.

So Logan told the story a second time, with Patton interjecting puns every now and again, to his great chagrin. Seraphina kept her commentary to herself, watching Toby warily, her long, leathery wings shifting uncomfortably, as though she expected him to attack. Toby, to his credit, didn’t react badly. He stared at Sera for a long moment, on eyebrow raised, and then his gaze slid to Logan.

“I can see the family resemblance,” he said dryly.

“Shut up,” Logan said. Seraphina relaxed, resting her head on the floor beside Logan. She shot him a sideways glance when Toby snickered, and Logan raised an eyebrow back, rolling his eyes.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Logan began. “I have some questions, Sera.”

“Ask away, padre,” Sera said with a laugh. The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched. She was definitely Roman’s daughter.

“How did you get Roman’s weapon?” Logan asked. “Did he give it to you? Did he instruct you to take it? When did you get it?”

“He brought it to me,” Sera said. “About… nine months and two days ago. He only told me to protect it, and then he disappeared. He seemed… shaken. Scared.” She frowned, worry swirling in her deep emerald eyes. “I haven’t seen him since.”

Nine months and two days ago — in other words, two months after Roman “died.” If they needed any more confirmation, this was it. Patton shot Logan a wide-eyed look, barely contained hope lighting up his face.

“So Princey didn’t die,” Toby said, leaning back against one of Sera’s hoards. His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re sure it was him?”

Seraphina squeaked. “He — he died?” she exclaimed, head rearing up.

“I just said he didn’t, genius.”

Logan glared at Toby. “Obviously, he didn’t,” he said, deep in thought. “Both Anxiety and Dorian suggested that he is alive, and now we know that he didn’t die the night we thought he did. He faked his own death. Or someone else faked it for him, but considering he was able to bring the weapon to Seraphina months after the fact, that seems unlikely.”

“But why would he fake his own death? And how?” Patton asked, nose wrinkled in thought. “There was a body, and the only way he could have faked that is with —”

“With a duplication spell,” Toby cut in, tapping against his knee as he thought.

“But you said he gave up his magic to be with me,” Logan said. “How would he have cast a spell?”

“There’s more than one kind of magic,” Toby said. “Inherent magic is magic that you’re born with. It can only be used by people born here, and you’d need a near-constant supply of magic to live if you have it. That’s why we can’t spend too long in your world. That’s what Roman gave up.”

“But magic can be stored, too,” Patton continued. “Like — like your shield generator! We can push magic into objects and give them purposes, and then they can be used by anyone, anywhere, even a mortal in the mortal realm. But…”

Toby sat back, eyebrows furrowed. “But I’ve never heard of someone creating a stored duplication spell,” he said, crossing and uncrossing his arms like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I mean, duplicating a body, making it convincing enough that mortal doctors would consider it real? Even with inherent magic, that would be fucking impossible.”

“Dad loved to do the impossible,” Seraphina said. “I mean, just look at this thing.” She angled her head at the weapon, lying on the floor beside her.

“Speaking of that,” Logan said, “what is it? How does it work?”

Seraphina snorted. “Hell if I know, Dad never told me. But can’t you feel it? Whatever it is, it’s powerful. There’s a shitload of magic in there. Even I can’t produce magic that strong.”

Logan reached forward and drew the weapon into his lap, running a finger along the runes. Every person he’d met in the magical realm had a different buzz to them, a unique energy, but they’d all run together until the lines had blurred and he couldn’t tell what belonged to who. Roman’s weapon was defined in a way that nothing else had been; as sharp and as certain as Roman himself. If he could determine the difference, so unused to magic as he was, he couldn’t imagine how it was for experienced mages like Patton and Toby.

He slid his thumb over the small hole in the center of the hilt. There was an identical hole on the other side, forming an almost-tunnel. They didn’t seem to serve any purpose.

“Being obnoxiously talented was Princey’s thing,” Toby remarked with a shrug, and Logan snorted.

“Hey! Shush.” Patton whacked him in mock-offense, giggles tumbling from his mouth. He sobered quickly, though, and his brows knit together. “Why would he do it, though? Why didn’t he just ask for help?”

“Roman wasn’t often one to admit when he needed help,” Logan said. “Something made him believe that the only option was to fake his own death, and whatever that something was, he believed he could face it alone.”

The thought both saddened and terrified him. Roman had him, Patton, and the entire Arcane Council on his side, as well as whatever other resources the leader of magical New York could gather. If even that wasn’t enough, if he still believed the only viable option was to run away… it did not bode well. How alone had he felt, those last few days? How alone had he been ever since?

“Gee, I wonder who the ‘something’ could be,” Toby drawled sarcastically.

“Dorian,” Patton said, pain flashing across his face. “And if Anxiety is right… he ended up getting Roman anyway.”

Logan’s fingers tightened around the hilt of the weapon. “We will get him back,” he said, to himself as much as to Patton. “We have the weapon now. Our next priority should be to return to the council and determine how to use it. Then…”

“Then we find Dorian and bitch-slap him into next year,” Toby growled.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Crude, but you’re not wrong. There is another thing that’s bothering me, though,” he said. “Roman never told me about this place. I didn’t even know he had brothers. And yet, he told me where to find the weapon, and — and he engraved a message for me, in the dragon’s eye.”

“He what?” Toby asked, eyebrows raising. He yanked the eye from around his neck and peered at it, running a finger along the words. “To my heart and soul…”

“You hold the key,” Logan finished. “It’s the same phrase that he engraved in our wedding rings, so it seems likely that he meant for me to find the eye. That implies that he knew I’d get involved in this, that he had knowledge of the future. Is that… possible?”

“Not… really?” Patton said, biting his lip in confusion. “I mean, I guess he could have seen a seer, but —”

“But even Princey wouldn’t be that stupid,” Toby said, dropping the eye back around his neck. At Patton’s annoyed look, he rolled his eyes. “What? Everyone knows seers are bad luck.”

“No,” Patton said, “some people believe seers are bad luck. That doesn’t mean that they are.“

“Doesn’t matter, anyway,” Toby said, rolling his eyes again. “There hasn’t been a seer born in our world for decades. I doubt he would have been able to find one.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” Patton said. He shrugged, mouth twisting into a confused grimace. “Just another mystery! We can ask him when we find him, okay?”

Logan nodded. “Right. Come on.” He stood, dusting off his pants, and offered Patton his free hand. “Thank you, Seraphina. Your help was invaluable.”

Seraphina rolled onto her back, wings spreading out beneath her. “You’re welcome, dad,” she said, equal parts sincere and teasing. Logan choked, shoving away the deluge of mixed feelings that threatened to swallow him whole. Behind him, Patton awwed so loudly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they could hear it back in New York.

Bathed in sunset-light, the three climbed out of Seraphina’s keep and back into the forest. Logan held the weapon tightly to his chest as they trekked over the uneven ground, following just behind Patton and Toby.

They were so close. They had the weapon, a way to defeat Dorian, once and for all. They had answers, and above all, they had one definite truth: Roman didn’t die in the car crash. He was out there, somewhere. Logan could find him.

Logan could find home.

He smiled to himself, a sigh of relief falling from his lips. His shattered world was beginning to build itself back up, back into what it had been before.

A figure stepped out from the trees, golden eyes glowing beneath a hood wreathed of shadows. He blasted Patton and Toby aside without a moment’s hesitation, head tilting up, his mouth stretching into a wide grin.

“Hello, Logan,” Dorian said, and the world fell apart once more.

#logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #ts deceit #villain deceit #abusive deceit #sanders sides #logince #death tw #death mentions tw #to my heart and soul #celeste's portfolio

[ren-c-leyn]

Past, Present, Well Past Returning

 Let’s try this again, without my keyboard slipping and posting it for me -_-

 Time for... another fusion story! This time, I’m using these 1,2,3, amazing prompts from @thependragonwritersguild and these 1,2,3 incredible prompts by @givethispromptatry.

Warnings (mostly for people unfamiliar with my work): Just like many of my other shorts on here, this one contains fight scenes, character deaths, wounds, swearing, and is a generally angsty piece. Please tread with caution.

I could spend days staring out into the castle grounds, watching every move around. In fact I have. The last three days to be exact. Today was the last day, I decided. I knew the patterns well enough, I had seen and accounted for everything. It would work, it had to work. Tonight was the night I’d been waiting for since the last time I had been here.

I ran through a list of assurances, of my mentor’s mottos, of everything I could do. Not a single negative thought stayed in my mind for long. I had survived too much, gotten too strong, to fail. Everything was ready, waiting for me to reclaim what was mine. I just had to take it.

Sleep and rest made up the entire late afternoon til dusk. I prepared everything at dusk, watching the last wisps of sunlight fade from the sky like my innocence had all those years ago. A bitter smile pulled painfully onto my lips as I pulled the cloth mask over it.

My mentor once told me that assassins have no trade secrets. Their trade is the easiest to replicate. I found it funny coming from an assassin of their caliber. All of those years studying the way they moved so I could do it too. All of that time listening the way their voice flitted from male to female and leaped from accent to accent just to throw me off, just to ingrain them all in my own speaking. All of that time trying to learn their trade secrets, only to be told they never had any. If the situation wasn’t so dire, I might had laughed. But now was not the time.

I crept around the walls, all the way to the hidden escape passage, the same one I had left all those years ago. After making sure it still wasn’t watched, I preyed the ancient stones apart before slipping inside. The familiar scents of moss and old stone filtered through the dark cloth. Old memories spilled through my mind... but now wasn’t the time for them, either.

At the end of the passage, I stopped. I stopped thinking, stopped breathing, stopped everything and just listened. My ears waited for what felt like forever, searching for a telling sign of watchers. A scuff of a boot, a click of shifting armor, a cough or a sigh of a bored guard. When none came, I slowly pushed the door open to reveal an empty throne room. My heart twisted at the sight, but I forced myself to stay focused. The past had no place here right now.

I stepped into the room, and knew there was no turning back. Retracing familiar paths, I made my way to the study, where I knew he’d be. The stairways were silent, the doors all still, and everything perfect on my way there. Too perfect....

I paused outside of the grand double doors, something in my gut staying it was time to walk away. My heart burned, though, screaming that we had to. We had to open the doors and face him, or we never would. My mind understood both arguments presented to me. Now was the best time, when everyone was busy with the preparations for his wedding. It was possibly the only chance I’d ever get at this. On the other hand, it shouldn’t be this quiet, this silent. There should have been at least one servant, one guard, one witness.

I stood in a stalemate with myself, until the past seeped back in. The smell of blood, the stains slowly seeping through mother’s dress as she forced me through the hidden passage, the death cries of father echoing behind us. The rage bubbled up again, growling and snarling. The fear and anger of child me was what made the choice.

 Before I could catch up with myself, one hand drawing cold steel while the other slammed down the door handle and threw it open. I didn’t fully comprehend what happened, not until the crossbow bolt had embedded itself into my shoulder and knocked me to the ground. The condescending laugh from my nightmares echoed around the halls and chambers, ringing in my echoes so loudly I wished for nothing more than to cut my fucking ears off.

 “It’s been a long time, little one.”

 “Screw you, brother,” I hissed as I drug myself up into a sitting position, glaring at him, ignoring the two guards.

 Of course that pathetic coward would be the one with the crossbow. His men wore swords and held spear and shield, like the damn fine warriors I was sure they were.

 “That’s no way to speak to your elder sibling.”

 “I think it’s a fine way to address the fucking monster that murdered their own family for power.”

 I slowly forced myself onto my feet, gritting my teeth and willing the throbbing, burning pain in my shoulder. Bastard probably poisoned the bolt. It would be his style.

 “Oh really?” he replied in that smooth, oily voice, the one that made me want to rip his tongue out. “And I think this is a good way to deal with assassins and traitors.”

 He snapped his fingers and the guards obediently raised their weapons and began their advance. I snarled my favorite curses and fled, sliding down railings and running as quickly as I could. More guards poured out of random rooms, forcing me to change directions so many times that I eventually started running blind.

 I had had several escape routes planned beforehand, but I was far from them all now. I bolted through the kitchen, destroying platters of perfectly good food and knocking over one of the maids. From there they turned me down another hallway, where guards came rushing from the one that joined it. I had two seconds to decide, window or spears. Window it was. I leaped through it, feeling the unforgiving shards of ancient glass tear into me and snag the shaft of the bolt.

 I screamed in agony as I slide down the one of the buttresses, barely able to get my battered body to cooperate with me long enough to land on my feet when I hit the shingles. Unfortunately, I had been going too fast and they slid out from under me, sending my flying onto the stable roof. Winded, exhausted, bleeding, and probably broken, there was nothing I wanted more than to just lay there. Unfortunately, the bowman had other ideas.

 I rolled over to the side as a second arrow plunked onto the roof. I caught the edge and swung myself onto a pile of crates. They were more fragile than they looked, crumbling under me and nearly trapping me. It took precious moments to free myself, and by then I had no time to steal a horse. Footmen were racing up to me, and I had no choice but to flee.

 I was herded up the stairs of the walls and chased like a rabid animal halfway around it before I found myself stuck between two groups of swordsmen, panting, bleeding, finished.... The river bubbled and murmured its condolences as one of them stepped up. I tried to parry, but my blade moved too slow. His sword slipped past without resistance and ran me through the gut. I saw more coming and my body reacted on instincts built from months of training.

 I had ripped myself free of his blade and tumbled over the stones, off of the wall, and down into the river. I sunk into the water, blood drifting from the stab wound in my burning stomach. As my vision tunneled I saw something flash by. I found myself hoping that whatever it is ate me quickly. Or at least killed me first....

 My body was ripped free from the water, limp. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see whatever monster my brother had unleashed to track me down. Instead of the tearing of teeth or slicing of claws, all I felt was a gentle prodding at my wounds. I reopened my eyes, barely able to make out a blurred silhouette. A man’s voice hovered just above me. He hissed like the autumn wind, murmured something about blood loss, and then, there was silent blackness.

 When I woke up, everything hurt. I couldn’t feel anything but pain. My throat and nose burned, my stomach was swearing at me, my shoulder felt like someone had tried burning it off, and my muscles... I didn’t even want to remember they were attached.

 “Alive? Awake? Good, I was afraid you’d starve if you stayed out any longer.”

 I blinked and rolled my head over. Immediately, I wished I was fucking dead. He swished his tails around, the cat-like eyes watching me from beneath ragged black hair.

 “From one monster to the next.... Which limb do you want?”

 “I think if I was out to eat you, I would have done so already.”

 “I’m not making deals.”

 “Good, because neither am I.”

 “... Then what do you want?”

 He laughed so hard his leather wings opened slightly.

 “It never fails, does it? If humans can’t kill it, manipulate it, or decimate it emotionally, they can’t seem to trust it. Even if it did pull you out of a river, patch up your wounds, and give you the antidote for the poison. Or, maybe, you’re ungrateful brat attitude is less to do with human and more to do with royal?”

 I groaned.

 “You sound like my mentor.”

 “Because your mentor is my cousin.”

 I tried to shoot up out of bed but found myself groaned and flopping back down.

 “Fuck, what?”

 “Yeah, my cousin. I’m half human.”

 “Oh. I thought the voice changing and running up walls and other weird stuff was maybe... but I guess not.”

 He snorted.

 “I hear ya. I have no clue how anyone can do that shit and not break something, but that’s my cousin.”

 “So, my mentor asked you to save me?”

 “They mentioned you were up to something interesting.”

 “So, you came to help?”

 He laughed again.

 “Nope.”

 “Then... what the fuck were you doing there?”

 He grinned.

 “My goal.”

 I stared at him, feeling even more dizzy than I had before.

 “What?”

 “My goal is to keep you alive for no other reason than because it seems pretty damn difficult. Just started and look at you. One stab wound, one bolt to the shoulder, tons of cuts, and don’t even get me started on how long it took to dig all of the glass out of your thin skin. This is going to be the best challenge I’ve had yet.”

 He continued babbling about it, but I had retreated to the relative safety of my own mind, trying to figure out just what my mentor had gotten me into....

#My writing #short story #fiction #fantasy #angst #a story by Ren

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

Candy Kane

I’ve never been a big fan of family pictures, or holiday celebrations. When I was about seven, my brother Derek and I had our picture taken with our cousin Kyle, who couldn’t have been much more than a year old. Kyle was smiling, but also pointing at something off in the distance (probably a prop the photographer was using to make him laugh). Derek and I had on clip-on ties that were recycled from a previous Easter. I wore thick, almost square-framed glasses. if I left the house with them on today, they would almost certainly impede my ability to successfully procreate. I had little choice at the time since I needed corrective lenses, and wouldn’t start wearing contacts for at least another six years. 

By the time I’d made the switch, the photo of Kyle, Derek, and me belonged to a museum exhibit—frozen in time like the Iceman—of pictures my grandparents loved, but their grandchildren wished no longer existed. By 1999, they’d moved into a house much smaller than the one in which they’d raised their six children, and the photo had been relegated to a literal wall of shame in their basement. Along the wall were senior pictures of my mother and her siblings, and various photos of the nine grandchildren, including that of a triumvirate of boys c. 1988. I can’t think of a time anyone whose picture was on the wall expressed fondness when looking at it. Each of us probably thought about what we’d tell our younger selves if we passed them on the street, or secretly wished to remain arrested in that state of childhood development, our entire lives uncertain, unfolding, before us one day at a time.

The biggest reason I’ve never been a huge fan of holidays, family pictures, and especially family holiday pictures is because the only capture one moment in time, moments that, for better or worse, are frozen on film or stored in cloud of data and never really gone. Whenever the holidays come around, I have a tendency to cram an entire year’s worth of socializing into 48 hours, or however long I get to spend with my family and friends.

In my family, those occasions are typically when we celebrate some Puritans surviving a hard winter despite wearing ridiculous hats, and the birth of a boy who somehow managed to erase his teenage debauchery from the record. You know he had to screw up those miracles dozens of times in private before nailing them (oops) in public by his early thirties. This must be why we never hear about the zombies of Arimathea he couldn’t quite bring all the way back from the dead, or the numerous weddings he crashed around Nazareth during puberty, flexing to prostitutes about how he could turn water into wine in exchange for performing a number of sins his Dad didn’t have to know about (but would later be considered deadly because Mary Magdalene couldn’t keep her mouth shut) only to deliver vinegar.

I guarantee you Jesus promised Joseph of Arimathea eternal salvation as thanks for the years of resurrection practice, and in return for the use of his tomb one Friday night. Mary Magdalene showed up at the tomb three days after the crucifixion because she finally realized how serious Jesus had been about her fucking up his chances to keep holy the Sabbath day with a bridesmaid, before he hit it big and all the lepers wanted a piece (oops again) of him.

Anyway… If family pictures remind me of who I used to be, holidays remind me of things I used to wholeheartedly believe in.

My first picture with Santa was probably taken in 1982, before I had the surgery to straighten out my leg that left me with a cool scar. My enthusiasm for the holidays faded as I grew older and began to challenge my beliefs that one man could deliver presents to all the world’s children in a single night, and the three wise men could find Jesus just by following a star.

After passing at least numerically through teenage angst, I started to realize how incredibly fortunate I’ve been instead of complaining about what other people had that I didn’t. But what really got me comfortable in my own skin was volunteering, a series of activities in which I put myself in some very uncomfortable positions by surrounding myself with people and places I didn’t know. Still, my desire for the uncomfortable hasn’t weakened my ability to attract the absurd.

I recently had a chance to volunteer at Santa’s Workshop. I put on my elf hat (which I later found out had been on backwards all night) and got to work in the arts and crafts area, but that didn’t last long. Macaroni pictures weren’t doing it for me. I needed a different challenge.

Soon enough, I found my way to where Santa was. My backwards elf hat and I had to keep the line moving so every kid would have a chance to see Santa before closing time at 6 PM. Thee were all kinds of characters around me. Rudolph was there, and so was this character that had Pinocchio’s face, but looked how I imagined the Frisch’s Big Boy would if he’d been on a liquid diet for six months. “Who’s THAT?” I asked the event coordinator. “That’s the Elf on the Shelf,” she replied. “Oh… shit… I was way off,” I said. Whenever I caught the characters waving to children and their families as they passed by, they looked like those people from 80s and 90s workout videos who got stuck doing the low-impact versions of the exercises everybody else was doing at full speed. I wondered if they were secretly asking themselves why they agreed to do this, quietly cursing themselves for not auditioning to sell shit on QVC instead.

I’m not sure if the first child whose Santa aftermath I’ll remember for a long time was just really upset, had a cognitive deficiency, or both. Either way, he or she was not happy. My first post near the man of the hour was standing outside a fence they’d set up around Santa’s chair. My job was to wave the kids and their families forward once the previous family had enjoyed their moment in the makeshift winter wonderland. As the child left Santa’s lap screaming bloody murder and passed through the fence with his/her parent or guardian, they let out a sound I can only describe as a Home Improvement-era Tim Allen grunt mixed with visceral cry for help: UHHHAAHHHOOOOO! 

Before I knew what was happening, the child headbutted themselves against the exterior glass of the Lazarus building, like Kane and the Undertaker from another spoiled childhood fantasy of so many— professional wresting. All the person accompanying the child said was, “Now honey… Don’t hit your head.” All I could think was, “Damn.” But as a man wearing a backwards elf hat, I couldn’t say shit to them.

Not long after witnessing a pediatric concussion, I found myself in the path of low-impact Rudolph herself. I slightly embarrassed myself by giving her a fist bump and talking to the person in the suit as though they were the red-nosed reindeer in the flesh. I came back to my adulthood while low-impact Rudolph was in the middle of muffled sentence about candy canes. I noticed had a bucket in her hands, which I assumed had been filled with the striped holiday icons. There were no candy canes in her bucket, but I did notice a set of Toyota car keys. In my confusion, I almost blurted out, “Shouldn’t you be guiding a sleigh instead of a fucking Camry?” Some things are best left unsaid.  

For the first two hours we were there, the line to see Santa seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, which made the next encounter I remember even more excruciating. A lady walked up and stood right next to me, thus blocking my view of the line and preventing me from doing the one volunteer task I was explicitly asked to do. To make matters worse, she started offering a running commentary on all the children she saw in Santa’s lap, like a color commentator at a sporting event who didn’t know when to just shut up and let whatever moment they were witnessing wash over them.  

It didn’t matter whether they were boys dressed in identical suits for the obligatory in-lap picture with the big man (Oh, how cute!) or babies whose faces became contorted with red hot agony upon being separated from their mothers and embraced by a strange man (Oh, he is NOT having it!) The line seemed to grow infinitely longer during her soliloquy and I found myself thinking it was a shame the crucifixion of the guy whose birthday everyone would be celebrating in few weeks didn’t draw a crowd like this. In Survivor, Chuck Palahniuk observed that on some crucifixes, Jesus looks jacked enough to be modeling Ray-Ban sunglasses and Guess jeans without a shirt on. I can’t help thinking Chuck would concur that since not everyone will reach that level of supposed piety or physical fitness in a lifetime, it’s a bigger draw to remember God’s only son immediately after he humbled himself to share in our humanity the same way we all started—as a baby.

Anyway… as her commentary droned on, found myself wishing I could be the elf in the holiday classic A Christmas Story who tells Ralphie to get a move on before Santa kicks him down the slide, “Let’s Go!!!” But it bears repeating that in my backwards hat, my powers of persuasion were limited.

Not long after the soliloquy ended, I was approached by what I assume was a mother and daughter pair who were wondering if they’d ever get to see Santa. “I don’t know if we’re going to make it,” the older one said. “Let’s just take my picture with the elf.” “Actually, my name’s Dav…” I wanted to protest, but with my powers weakened, all I could do was acquiesce to their demands. The younger woman held a smartphone at what seemed like six different angles during our impromptu photo session. By the time they were done, I felt certain I was destined for Instagram infamy.  

Eventually, the powers that be decided that I should move inside the fence and stand on the glitter-covered red carpet in an effort the speed up the queue after sunset. Before I went to the other side of the fence, someone asked me if I knew whether or not they’d be cutting people off at 6 PM. I didn’t, but I wished they would. I was growing tired of head injuries, seething, teething infants, and watching people taking selfies or recruiting the other elves to take pictures of them standing under one of the arches leading up to Santa’s chair.

I must have been distracted. The next time someone tried to get my attention, I was accused of holding up the line. The man had on a white, short-sleeved polo shirt. The woman wasn’t wearing a coat, but had on something I never thought I’d see on Santa’s red carpet: a leopard-print dress and dull pink high heels. “I used to be a Santa’s helper in this building,” she exclaimed. She said something else, about 1978, but I was too busy trying to avoid another “Damn” moment to really pay attention. “Actually, we just want our bathroom done. He’s working on our house.” “Fine.” I muttered. She proceeded to throw herself at Santa like he was Hugh Heffner, and she was Playboy Bunny. The whole scene looked ridiculous, but so did I.

After the final patrons had paid Santa a visit, the other volunteer elves and I sat for our own picture with the man himself. It was likely the first time I’d had my picture taken with him since the year the picture of Derek, Kyle, and I was taken. I wasn’t filled with regret over my evaporated childhood and its beliefs, or terribly concerned that no one said a word about my backwards elf hat the whole night. I was glad I’d put myself in another uncomfortable position and come out clean on the other side minus the glitter that will be stuck to the bottoms of the shoes I wore that night for months. I was reminded of the importance of not trying to cram everything into one season, or in Santa’s case, one night. Let the kids have their beliefs and grow up to challenge them. I didn’t have to sit in Santa’s lap to tell him that wish come true was all I wanted for Christmas. I have a funny feeling that whoever he is, was, and has been, he knew what I wanted long before I ever asked.

[kdbejeveidv]

(The book idea)

A bigger plot in which a group of domestic terrorists that need to have acquired property around the area to set up stations, the terrorist event itself will stay unclear as will whoever is behind it and what reason

small hints on tv and papers she finds in the (Bad guys) car will hint towards the murder of a politician who’s old fashion racial and religious ideas have angered most of the states population and help them back from a better future

*The very first scene*

staring up the road ready to give up she lays up against the over turned car hands cutting into the broken glass

The Light of a car beams shine into the the air from ahead A moment of weakness hits her hard and she cry’s... acceptance of what’s ahead she struggles with her cut hands to pull a picture from the back pocket that she had forgotten she put there earlier in the day

wiping away blood and tears she picks a small glass shard from her cheek with

*A moan*

Weeping harder she speaks aloud

“i can’t fight anymore” staring her thumb cleaning the picture from the dropping blood

Her head falls

*Again to the picture of her sister weeping harder now softly * I just... can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t”

Dropping it by her side the fire inside the car starts to catch the fabric

Building now

an idea hits! Having already tried the boot jammed shut between the road and weight of the car she climbs in the back seat

Pulling and tearing at the fabric with the small kitchen knife she breaks through finding only flairs, emergency equipment and a few tools

grabbed a set of road spikes from the burning out police car setting it out on the road seeing the lights on the hill ahead and hearing them draw closer she casts them out up ahead of the wreckage

in the middle or the street she struggles with a huge stinging slash up her back as she stumbles

The car speeding down they see her down the road

away from the thought to be unconscious bad guy, he lets out a blood gargling set of coughs

Blood running out the side of his head he stands, holding the side of his head in agony he gets up and screams again cursing the other guys dead body, tearing up from the pain he lays there blow to his head again she turns to see him grab the side of his head, ear halfed from where she hit him (flashbacks to the nice beginning)

the night of the attack is one of at least thirteen that is happing simultaneously around 3 towns all within a 16 mile radius her being within it

Note: as she is running from the house to the garage a the slight sound of 2 distinct sirens sound, one of a fire engine and one of a house alarm that she thinks nothing off the blue lights from 2

The lights from the fire truck can be just barley be seen flashing through the trees,

Note: whilst running for help she bumps into a black car hidden off the side of the road down from her house

As she sees the flashing light a few hundred yards from her where the (bad guy) is still searching for her in the trees shes trying the doors

The first is shut but the window was left down on the passenger side from when he was perhaps scouting the house before the attack

She sits inside and looks for anything useful, torche, phone

She finds a folder in a drawer compartment under the drivers seat with schematics of a nearby *insert town name* “mall” located in the centre of where where the 3 towns meet,

“Bennett’s Bargains”, a stand-alone farmers marked just off the main road heading into town 3 miles away

And some other documents

Unaware at first at what she has found she puts them to the side still rummaging the drawer hoping to find something more useful,stopping and looking over the dash she makes sure the (bad guy) is still over by the woods... she can’t see anything in the darkness and her heart skips a beat.. so she waits....

13 seconds until she see’s the light flicker again but this time slightly further away

*A sigh of relief and an tiresome eye roll*

She continues to look but finds nothing

Getting out the car she holds the window looking down towards the darkness where the (bad guys) light starts to fade

She glances back into the car the same way you look back in the fridge hoping something will appear before your eyes, she notices a sheet laying underneath the others

A folded map of the region

More specifically folded again and again at each side right down to her aria where her house is circled in a light black line

She looks back up and opens the door watching the flickering light on the dark horizon draw closer now but still far enough not to completely worry

She looks and unfolds the map seeing several other places with circles realising that this was bigger than just a home invasion she grabs all the paper and runs

Not really knowing where to run she heads up the road for about 10 minuets

Side Note: a running joke in her family that she had always different hobbies throughout her childhood right through until her late 30s and evidently until present day

Side Note: when she calls the police they are busy with all the other home invasions the group are involved in although she is unaware that this is why they are unable to dispatch anyone to her call at that point

She will try for her sister as well but there won’t be an answer

The terrorists have taken her figuring that they can take more time of both homes are taken leaving less chances of close family members becoming suspicious or making unannounced visits

Note: they have set alight to a local gym at the outskirts of town and a farmers market that Mr Malcom Bennett owned (add him into the walk through town scene) as to keep as much as the police and emergency services occupied

As she is running screaming she trips over the corner of the rug falls and slides over to the wall stopping bluntly smashing next to an old oak chest against the wall! The fire place glows fearsomely again as the embers are relighting and the ash is blown outwards a sudden rush of air entering from the broken window scatters the fine charred shards of charred wood across the floor

In the rush and confusion she quickly tries to get up still panicked she hits her hear off the small corner of the unite and dazed herself, sharp pain shooting and blood beading our quicker and quicker she hold the wound and fights the tears

The Struggle of not biting her own lip off in anger with herself almost overwhelming she stumbles and falls on one knee

Getting back up she rushes to the door locking it and pulling the small blind down in front of the frosted glass as if it will make a difference to safety...

In amongst the rush of thought and feeling! stupidity pushes through all to the front, “why did I close that fucking blind, it won’t make a difference” she curses herself for even focusing on it

Over thinking about it still she grabs and rips if from the poll above sliding down they door to the floor, rushes of fear and confusion rush forward again pinning her down unable to move she waits for her heart to slowly calm it’s self whilst she try’s to grasp at the idea of this all happening

Squelched footsteps through the mud can be heard from the other side of the door but still to scared to look she remains on the floor, the handle shakes and a swift kick to the bottom of the door is felt In her back

A grab to her mouth to muffle the small puffs of air and panting

She pushes her foot against the kitchen unit siting sideways she looks around for anything that can be used to defend her

Up on the wall sits a stainless steel knife collection her sister had gotten for her for a birthday a few years back

Instant relief is felt throughout her body as she gasps taking in what seems like her first ever breath of fresh air taken

Her sister why didn’t she think about calling her! Get her to go for help, her eyes whipping over the room she looking for her phone

Over the sound of her heavy breathing and the voice of a politicians interview on the background of a small kitchen tv

“fuck” “FUCK! Fuck” can be heard from the other side as the kicking continues more rapidly she hears what sounds like a thousand cracks in the the wood behind her ears

As Her dazed state starts to end she’s try’s to uncomfortably open her eyes, fighting the muscles that are fighting right back

Her arms automatically trying to raise themselves to rub away the tired

She welps in pain, one in a cast and the other wrists in wraps she finally opens.. dazed at first then s sudden rush of panic

Her eyes water from the powerful hospital lighting above her bed snd painful joints she focuses on a voice...

Hello, (...) my name is Dr Langdon Michell

And you are in the Clifton care until in county hospital

Everything’s alright.. take a moment to catch yourself ok, everything is alright now.

Stuttering she sits up ignoring the pain and bribing all her focus and attention on Dr Langdon

(Main character) has a chat with police officer friend and one of the town shop owners in the que in shop while in town, he mentions a rise in strange crime, few disappearances but doesn’t let out to much info to be professional