#digs it out of her repressed brain for a second and she gets disappointed for a split second

[nolanpatricksforcefemmedclit]

nolan patrick should’ve had a soy milk arc

[riotwritesthings]

Ode to Yoga Pants

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony

AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Title: Ode to Yoga Pants Collaborator Name: Riot Bucky Barnes Bingo Square Filled: K5, Team Dynamics StarkBucks Bingo Square Filled: O5, “I’d like it if you stayed.” Ship/Main Pairing: WinterIron Rating: M Major Tags & Triggers: Mutually pining morons, humor Summary: OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun Word Count: 2,282

Here on AO3!

-

Tony is heading to the gym for Steve’s newly mandated team training time and yeah, he’s late, but he does have coffee. So at least he’s on brand.

It looks like everyone else has beat him here, which isn’t really surprising, and Tony tosses out a grin and wave in response to the unimpressed look Steve shoots him.

Then his eyes land on Bucky. Who is doing one armed pushups. Completely vertically, pointed toes up in the air and strands of hair falling loose around his face where it’s come loose from the hair tie. And he is in yoga pants.

They hug his calves, his ass, his thighs, tight black spandex with gray piping up sides and Tony is weak.

Forget team bonding, Tony needs to get out of here right now, before he makes a fool of himself. Except he spins too quickly, hot coffee sloshing over the rim of his mug and onto his fingers, and he’s so busy hissing over the sharp burst of pain that he walks straight into the door as it swings shut.

“Ack, fuck,” Tony gasps, more hot coffee splashing out across his hand, rubbing at his forehead and apparently he’s a little dizzy because he goes to take a step back and tilts to the side instead, bouncing off the wall.

He’s almost caught his balance, and then he trips over Sam’s stupid jump rope, and then his thighs hit the weight bench and he tumbles backwards over it, the last dregs of his coffee somehow ending up entirely on his chest.

“Damnit Wilson,” Tony grumbles, “I knew you were out to get me!”

There’s a soft chuckle from somewhere above him, and Tony pries his eyes open. He’s half expecting to see Sam, ready to defend himself and deny that he’s trying to kill Tony with workout equipment even though he very clearly is.

Instead it’s Bucky, leaning over him all shirtless and sweaty and concerned.

“You okay, doll?”

When Tony tries to speak all that comes out is a strangled gurgling sound, and Bucky’s concerned look gets deeper.

-

“Gross, they’re doing it again,” Sam complains, pausing mid situp to shoot a glare across the gym.

When Steve glances away from sparring with Natasha she takes the opportunity to pop him in the throat.

“This isn’t even funny anymore,” Natasha says while Steve coughs and hacks and gives her a dirty look.

“It stopped being funny weeks ago,” Rhodey says as he leans against the ropes of the boxing ring and shakes his head in disappointment.

“You’re just saying that because that’s when you were officially out of the betting pool,” Clint says with a snort.

“I really didn’t think it would take them this long,” he says with a morose sigh, “I’m ashamed.”

Steve makes a sound that might be agreement.

“New bet, how much worse can it possibly get?” Sam tries to joke, but he has a terrible feeling that it’s not a joke at all.

“I think we’re all the losers in that bet,” Natasha says as they all watch Bucky help a still clearly-swooning Tony out of the gym.

The poor pining morons don’t even notice they have an audience. Just like Bucky somehow doesn’t notice that Tony is literal putty in his hands, and Tony mysteriously doesn’t notice Bucky giving him the sappiest heart eyes ever.

It’s shameful, is what it is.

-

Tony lets Bucky drag him into the kitchen, sinks onto one of the stools when gently pushed in that direction, and he’s becoming uncomfortably aware that his shirt is still splattered with cooling coffee and probably clinging to his chest.

He should probably go change, and then maybe go hide out somewhere until he figures out how to deal with Bucky in yoga pants.

But before Tony can figure out how to convince his legs to actually move, Bucky is done digging around in the freezer and by his side again.

“Ow,” Tony says with an exaggerated wince as Bucky presses a bag of ice to the back of his head, and then nearly melts out of his seat when Bucky shushes him with a wide palm running down the back of his neck.

He’s not actually as rattled as Bucky seems to think he is, but Tony certainly isn’t going to correct him. It’s a much safer excuse than admitting his brain went to mush the second he saw Bucky’s thighs, all wrapped up and accentuated in tight black spandex, and it still hasn’t quite come back online.

From here, with Bucky standing beside him and gently holding his head still while Tony stares studiously at the floor, all Tony can see of Bucky is his foot. The tight black fabric ends just above the delicate bones of his ankle, his bare toes wiggling against the tile floor as he pulls the ice away and inspects Tony’s head.

Forget getting his brain working again, Tony is just trying to keep his stupid heart from crawling its way up his throat over ankles. Like some kind of repressed Puritan, Jesus.

Which means he can’t at all stop himself from nervously stuttering out “Those-those are uh, nice... you like yoga pants huh?”

There’s a vague sense of motion beside him, like Bucky is shrugging, as he says “They’re comfortable.”

“Uh huh, they-“ Tony starts to say, and then nearly swallows his tongue when Bucky steps around in front of him again.

His eyes automatically drag upwards, and it takes everything Tony has not to let himself linger, not to get caught staring at the frankly mouthwatering bulge of Bucky’s cock that his skin tight leggings are not doing a very good job of hiding.

He jerks his gaze up higher and it doesn’t help because oh god there’s Bucky’s chest, still bare and so close and by the time he finally manages to make himself look up at Bucky’s face he can’t breathe.

“They- uh, s-sure look it,” Tony stutters out, and furious blushing is totally a symptom of a concussion, right?!

Bucky’s smile stays warm and friendly, so he’s probably alright.

And all Bucky says is “You should try them! I can send you the site I got ‘em from, Nat recommended it to me.”

“Okay,” Tony squeaks and damnit he’s actually going to have to buy some yoga pants now. There’s no other way to play off his sudden fascination with them.

-

A week later, everyone has lost the bet.

They find the two morons asleep together on the couch, legs tangled and blankets wrapped around them both.

The entire team agrees it’s the most disgusting thing they’ve ever seen.

-

Steve is taking his frustrations out on a punching bag when Bucky suddenly ducks behind the bag, grabbing it and holding it still so he can hide behind it.

“What is this, why are you doing this?” Steve demands, rhythm thrown and half-debating just punching the bag anyways in the hopes that it’ll shake Bucky loose.

“Steve,” Bucky hisses, like he somehow hasn’t noticed that he already has Steve’s full attention, “Steve, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s head pops out from around the punching bag, eyes fixed on something across the gym as he hisses “Tony bought yoga pants.”

Steve turns and sure enough, Tony and Natasha are standing near the sparring mats in matching black and gray patterned spandex.

“Does Nat get money every time she talks someone into buying those?” Steve has to wonder, because she has been relentlessly texting him the link too.

“Steve,” Bucky hisses again, “Steven. I can’t- how do I even- Steve-“

“What?!” Steve demands impatiently, because he really wants to go back to punching things, and not thinking about the awkward mating dance of his best friends.

“Look at his ass!”

Steve huffs and resists the urge to gag at the open reverence in Bucky’s tone. He does turn though, just in time to watch Tony bend over in a low stretch.

“Perfect little bubble, I just wanna bury my face in it and live there,” Bucky sighs.

“Huh,” Steve says, tilting his head a little to get a better view because damn, Bucky is not exactly wrong- “Ow!” He squawks when Bucky swings the punching bag into him, “you’re the one who told me to look!”

“Not like that!” Bucky snaps back. It looks like he’s considering hitting Steve with the punching bag again, and Steve holds up a single finger in warning.

“Do not,” he says sternly.

Bucky settles for just hugging the bag instead, gaze already drifting across the gym again. Steve has a terrible feeling he’s not going to get back to his workout.

“Please just ask him out,” Steve says plaintively, “pretend to act like a functional person.”

“How am I supposed to function when faced with The Most Amazing Ass Ever™️?!” Bucky demands, and then makes a weird whimpering sound as Tony no doubt does something. Like existing.

Steve refuses to look over, instead just sighing out “Get off my punching bag, you’re making this so weird.”

“I’m filin’ a complaint,” Bucky says, clearly not listening to him anymore and still staring with rapt attention at where Tony is apparently doing something fascinating. “These pants are supposed to be ‘super stretchy��� but they clearly did not count on boners cuz my dick is strangled.”

“Excuse me,” Steve says, already walking away, “I need to go vomit.”

Hell, next week he might skip mandatory team training.

-

Tony is laying on his stomach on the common room floor, propped up on his elbows as he pokes at his phone and kicks his feet lazily in the air.

He’s wearing bright red yoga pants today, and even Clint is not immune.

He catches himself after a couple seconds of staring at the swell and bounce of Tony’s ass, and gives himself a vigorous shake. That’s a good way to earn the Winter Soldier Death Glare.

Even if said Winter Soldier is too much of a disaster to actually do anything about his super obvious crush.

“So are yoga pants just the new thing?” Clint asks, climbing over the back of the couch and keeping his eyes safely on Tony’s face, because he does not want to be assassined to death today. “You’re just gonna wear them all the time?”

“They’re comfortable,” Tony says with an absent shrug, then grins up at Clint and wiggles his eyebrows as he adds “Plus, they make my ass look great.”

And Clint can’t exactly argue that, so instead he just flatly says “You’re going to give Barnes a heart attack.”

Tony looks confused for a split second, and then smiles widely.

“Because I pull them off so much better than he does?” he asks, striking a pose, and Clint seriously considers running away to join the circus. Again.

He’s not even sure if things will actually be better if they eventually get together at this point.

He should make that the new bet.

-

“I’m just saying,” Tony insists, and then raises his voice when Steve put his head down on the table and starts humming under his breath, “If I thought Bucky was actually interested, I would 100% be here for him. With open arms-“

“Well that’s actually kind of-“

“And open legs-“

“Tony-“

“And an open mouth,” Tony finishes, grinning and winking when Steve looks up at him with a glare.

“Tony, please, I don’t want to hear this,” Steve says, hands over his ears and he does actually look a little green.

“This is nothing,” Tony says with a scoff, giving Steve an unimpressed look, because he is weak. “You should hear the shit I say to Rhodey.”

“I would like to hear those things,” says a voice directly behind him.

Tony freezes, his entire body going cold, because he knows that low, warm, rumbling voice. He hears it in his dreams, and oh no oh no oh no, now Bucky knows.

So much for his plausible deniability.

His brain kind of goes staticy with panic for a second, and he’s only dimly aware of Steve rolling his eyes.

“Yeah my part in this conversation is done,” Steve says, and promptly bails.

When Tony’s brain finally reboots he finds that Bucky has taken Steve’s seat across the kitchen table.

Bucky is also just grinning at him, like he doesn’t find Tony’s borderline-obsessive crush at all creepy.

All Tony can think to say is “What.”

And then he realizes he doesn’t actually want an answer, doesn’t want to find out if Bucky is going to make fun of him, or if he thinks it’s all a joke. He can’t decide if that would actually be better or worse than being turned down gently, and he doesn’t intend to stay and find out.

“I’m just...” Tony sputters, face burning as he flails his way out of his chair, “Gonna- gonna go. Run away. Yep.”

“Wait,” Bucky says, eyes wide and halfway out of his own chair.

Tony freezes, because Bucky looks a lot like he feels. Thrown, surprised, confused and so hopeful that it’s terrifying.

“I-I’d like it if you stayed,” Bucky says slowly, then smiles crooked and nervous as he adds “Not that I don’t like watchin’ you walk away.”

It startles a laugh out of Tony, face flushing as he sinks back into his chair. “Okay,” he says, heart racing and smile almost painfully wide, “um, what?”

Bucky laughs, soft and low and warm, and finally finishes reaching across the table to take Tony’s hand in his own.

-

Clint wins the bet on how much worse their lives get once the love-struck morons start making out all over the place.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

The Last Slide: Ch. 4

here we go, @feeisamarshmallow, with the final part. come talk to me about it if you like! :)

Read on ao3

_______________

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

_______________

Jake’s head is spinning from all these revelations.

He’s still at the old apartment.

He’s tied to a chair that isn’t theirs.

The door opening earlier must have been Mr. Davies coming back to lock up the place.

If it was Amy, he doesn’t dare to think his captor got to her.

His captor.

The smell of fresh paint tickles the inside of his nose.

He hopes he won’t have to sneeze because that would hurt. A lot.

His ribs ache with every breath he takes, the pain in his stomach makes cold sweat break out over his neck and back.

He was alone in the apartment, speed-reliving his favorite memories one last time, when… The large bump on the back of his head clues him in on the rest.

“I know you know what happened,” Darius hisses through clenched teeth. “How did he do it? What’s his fucking plan?”

Jake has so many questions himself. For a moment, he was shocked to see Erickson, the pool attendant, loom over him dangerously. But then it began to make sense, in this weird way. His detective gut felt it – along with another bolt of pain. What he misses now is the rest of the puzzle. But it seems like Darius is searching for it as well.

“Dude,” Jake starts, which is probably a mistake, but he can’t stop himself and continues. “Let’s calm down and review some facts. I don’t know what you know. And in order to tell you what I know, I have to know what it is exactly that you want to know. You know?”

Darius looks as if he’s unsure if Jake’s making fun of him. The shadows cast on his face by the lamp make his features appear eerie, his skin pale, eyes hard and almost black.

“So,” Jake continues, “I guess you want to know something about the case. Right?”

“Did I not make myself clear?!” Darius’ eyes glisten angrily in the light.

Jake bites his lip. Obviously, the communication here isn’t flowing. He’s talking to a wall.

“How. Did. Kirkwell. Do. It.” The other man spits with every word.

“Ah, see, now we’re getting somewhere. You want to know how your boss did… Did what, exactly?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, cop!”

Jake is almost surprised not to be called the animal version of the term. Kudos to the criminal? “Okay, Kirkwell did something.” If this madman isn’t helping him, he’ll have to live-solve the case, then. “Kirkwell did something… And it has something to do with the Pearson murder.”

Darius narrows his eyes. “Yes, Kirkwell did it.”

Eyeing the knife in Darius’ hands, Jake raises an eyebrow. “You seem to know more than I do. Do you want to talk about it–”

“SON OF A BITCH!”

Jake winces when Darius swings his knife and rams it into the chair, only inches from his hand. His heart does a loop. “Careful, now…”

The other man isn’t listening. He starts pacing through the empty former bedroom, hands clenched into fists. He kicks at the wall and hisses a pained scream.

The windows are dark. Some kind of foil has been carefully draped from corner to corner. No light from under the door, either. Jake can hear the traffic outside. If he screams loud enough, maybe…

He startles when the knife is pulled out of the chair and he instinctively flinches his fingers away.

Darius cackles. “You afraid, huh?”

Something about that laugh deeply worries Jake. He’s dealing with an unstable person. He doesn’t know if he’s Pearson’s killer or about to become his own.

“You know who killed Lars Pearson,” he reviews, carefully watching the man’s reaction.

The cackling dies down. “Yes.”

“And you say it was your boss, Sam Kirkwell.”

“That’s what I just told you!” Darius roars, and suddenly he’s right in front of Jake, pointing at his face with the tip of his knife. Jake goes cross-eyed watching it shake in Darius’ hand. He gulps. “I told you this afternoon that it wasn’t me! But you didn’t listen!”

“I’m listening,” Jake gets out, still eyeing the knife nervously, “I’m listening right now. Please tell me everything.” If only he had a recording device on hand…

“Ohohooo, no.” The knife wanders to his cheek, then down his face, underneath his chin, settling on his throat. The flat side of the blade sits cool and sharp against his skin. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you filthy little pig.” (Ah, there it is.)

An endless minute passes before the knife retreats when Darius stands upright. Jake releases the breath he’d been holding.

“You don’t believe me. You want me to tell you how I killed the motherfucker that stole my wife from me. Oh no, I have to disappoint you here. Because I didn’t do it. He just wants you to think I did.”

“He?” Jake asks. “Kirkwell?”

“Are you deaf and stupid?!” Darius snarls. “He messed up, though. He thinks he’s so smart. But he messed up.” He lets out a sudden loud laugh. “He messed up!”

“How so?”

Darius spreads his arms and yells, “I wasn’t there!” His arms sink. “I wasn’t there…”

“Yes, we know,” Jake says in an attempt to convince him he’s on his side. “We checked with your brother and the parking lot’s security footage. You have an alibi.”

“Exactly!” Darius leans forward again, so close to Jake’s face that he could count the bags under Darius’ eyes if he had the concentration for it. “Exactly, exactly! Which is why he’ll think of another way to pin it on me! And in order to figure out what, I need to know how he killed him. And you,” he jabs his finger into Jake’s aching chest, “have the information I need.”

“Um… If I tell you, what will you do then?”

Again, Darius looks at him as if he’s particularly slow-brained. “Figure out how he’s gonna frame me.”

“Yeah, I clearly understood that. I meant what you plan on doing after that.”

The man opens his mouth, closes it, huffs. “And why would I tell you that?”

“Because I want to make sure you don’t do anything you’ll regret. Murder means more years in prison than kidnapping and physical assault–”

Jake completely forgot about the knife, or the fists. One lands a hard punch in his middle and he gasps for air, hunched forward.

A loud knock prevents the second punch from flying. Simultaneously, Jake and his captor look up, one moving quite a bit more slowly than the other. Before he can open his mouth, the knife is back at his throat, but this time it’s not the flat side of the blade. He doesn’t dare move one inch.

“Not. A. Word.”

Another knock, more insistent than the first. Then, a voice. Jake’s heart leaps when it reaches his ears. “Hello? Anyone still here?” A pause. “Jake?” Another pause. Jake wants to scream, wants to dip his chair so he’ll fall over, wants to make any noise possible. But he can’t. “Mr. Davies?”

Darius’ breath is on his face. It’s hot and moist and uncomfortable and he makes a face.

It takes a few more minutes of silence until the knife and bad breath disappear.

Jake’s heart falls. She’s gone. Amy’s gone and she has no idea he’s here.

“Now talk.” The knife lightly taps his knuckles, leaving tiny scratches on his skin. “I looked you up, Detective Jake Peralta. I know who just knocked on the door. I know about your career, your knack for solving difficult cases. I also know about Amy Santiago’s talents. There’s no way either of you hasn’t already solved this one.”

“Well, you haven’t told me about your plans yet, so I won’t–”

“I know about little Mac, too.”

Jake’s fingers dig into the arms of the chair. Any shred of sympathy he might have had for this person evaporates. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenches, and every ounce of good nature inside him turns inside out, flashing spikes and canons and the readiness to kill.

“Ah, I see, now I have your attention.”

Jake wants to get out of this chair and wipe that disgusting sneer from Darius’ face. And more.

“You have one hour. If you don’t talk then, we’ll invite our little friend Mac over. He’ll convince you.”

Darius turns and opens the door, ready to leave, taking the only light source with him. It shakes Jake out of his stunned silence.

“Don’t you dare touch him!” He waggles the chair, the zip ties digging into his skin as he tries to rip himself free. “Come back here! I’ll tell you everything you want to know! Don’t bring my son into this, you fucking monster!” His voice breaks as he screams, but Darius ignores him, closing the door behind him, leaving Jake in total darkness once again.

He’s panting heavily, tears gathering in his eyes. He can’t think clearly, which is bad, very bad… Mac… Not Mac!

It takes the better part of the next hour for him to calm down, because every time his breathing returns to normal, he becomes aware of the darkness again, of his impossible situation, of the danger his family is in, regardless of whether Darius is bluffing or not.

He screams for help until his throat hurts. The neighbors usually like to complain so much, why is nobody coming over now?!

The fear is all-encompassing. He loses all sense of time.

Eventually, he manages to regain his ability to think by using his old trick – repressing the hell out of bad thoughts and feelings.

He knows Darius wants information from him so he probably won’t kill him before he gets them. But the man is unpredictable in his state of unstable anger. Jake’s afraid he really will go after Mac or Amy if Jake doesn’t play along. Regardless of whether or not he tells Darius what he wants to know, he’s going to die tonight. He’d rather not. He’d really, really rather not.

The tears running down his face have long dried when Darius comes back. Jake’s eyes hurt in the glaring light of his headlamp.

“Time’s up, Peralta.” Darius stands in front of him, flicking his pocketknife open. “Talk.”

The fire inside Jake hasn’t gone out yet. As long as he lives, it will keep flickering. He will not let it extinguish after everything he’s ever gone through in his life, the good and the bad.

“A dart arrow in the neck, poisoned,” he starts, talking slowly, quietly. Any way to stall this without babbling too much that he risks a knife to the windpipe.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, I know, I know!” Darius gesticulates impatiently while talking louder and faster with every word, the expression in his eyes bordering on the edge of truly insane. “He was shot with it in that awful slide with the funnel, dead within seconds, I’ve heard this already! I WAS THERE AFTER IT HAPPENED!”

Jake flinches at the drops of saliva landing on his face. Taking a deep breath, then another one, he continues. “The question was, of course, who hit him. But to get closer to that information without any evidence on camera, we needed to know how he was killed.”

“But you already knew–”

“Where would you have done it?” Jake interrupts the incoming yelling.

“What?”

“If you were the killer – which I know you’re not! Just making that clear – where would you have hit Pearson with the dart?”

Darius blinks a few times. “Inside the funnel.”

“But cameras didn’t show anyone there and there was no blind spot. And no one tinkered with the footage.”

He’s met with confused silence, but it doesn’t last long. As if he’s watching in slow-motion, Jake sees the confusion melt into a blank stare, then the anger returns, deepens the lines on the scrunched-up face, creases the brows; muscles clench, eyes flash up dangerously.

Darius’ hand moves, Jake flinches, and the horrible sting of a fresh cut spreads on his left arm. In his ire, Darius managed to slice through the hoodie and the underlying shirt (though Jake has to admit, these particular pieces haven’t been very expensive), plus several layers of skin, judging by the stinging sensation burning through his nerves. Blood seeps into the material.

“This isn’t some kind of guessing game!” Darius leans on the arms of the chair again, right in his personal space. Jake hates it when he does that. “Tell me how he did it. Or Mac and Amy will pay.”

“The vents,” it shoots out of Jake immediately. “The killer was sitting in the vents above the slide. When Pearson came out, the killer hit him. We didn’t find the murder weapon yet. Tomorrow, we’re going to inspect the vents and interview everyone who has access to them.”

A slimy smile spreads on the face in front of him. “Was that so hard?” Then something seems to catch up to Darius and wipes the smile away. “Oh, that cunt-licking…” He spins away, tugging at the bit of hair he still has on his head, growling in frustration.

Jake brings oxygen back into his lungs. He misses fresh air, even though NYC air doesn’t particularly qualify to be called fresh. But he’d take anything over the stuffed air in this dark prison of his.

“He knows I’m friends with Wesley from maintenance,” Darius mumbles to himself while pacing through the room. He doesn’t seem to be aware that Jake can hear him, or that he’s talking out loud in the first place. “He can claim I have access to the vents. And he had me volunteer to stay late last night, he can say I went up there and…” His head turns quickly, eyes boring into Jake. “Now you tell me where that motherfucker’s hiding so we can finish this up.”

Jake gulps. “How would I know where your boss is right now?” The pain in his arm flares up at the look he receives. “And if I may ask – why would your boss frame you for murder in the first place?”

Darius lets out a heavy sigh. “Because he wants to bone my wife.”

“He does?”

“He’s been leering at her for years and now that we’re split up, all he needs to do is get rid of me and her new lover!” He spits on the ground. “That fucking prick.”

Literally, Jake thinks. He also has an idea of where Kirkwell might be right now, if what Darius says is true and his boss really is after his ex-wife. Why that hasn’t occurred to Darius yet, he doesn’t know. It probably has to do with the whole coming undone that is happening inside that man’s mind. And Jake doesn’t want to be the one pointing it out for him.

A loud crashing sound alerts both men and Jake immediately recognizes it as the sound of a door breaking down.

It is followed by steps on the floor and a voice carrying through the apartment.

“NYPD! Come out with your hands up!” Jake’s heart stops. It’s her.

Darius curses and fumbles something out of his pocket – a piece of cloth that he gags Jake with before he can call out to Amy.

While Darius waits tensely in his hiding place, the handle of his knife clutched in his fist, Jake tries to scream around the gag. He’s too quiet, he has to scream louder–

The handle turns and the door swings open, and there she is, clad in her bulletproof vest, gun at the ready. When she spots him, her eyes widen. “Jake! Oh god…” She takes a step into the room, but he shakes his head violently, his pupils flitting back and forth between her and the door.

She gets the message too late. Darius jumps out, grabs her from behind and holds the knife to her throat.

“Drop the gun.”

Stiff in his iron grip, a million options scurry through her mind, Jake knows – the gun falls to the floor. Darius eyes it, but he knows he can’t pick it up without letting go of his hostage. Jake eyes it too, but there’s no way he can get to it, least of all use it.

“Drop the weapon and step back,” orders a harsh voice. Darius flings himself and Amy around and faces Rosa, her gun pointed right at him.

“Oh no, I won’t.” Darius’ voice quivers. His back is turned to Jake but even from behind, the tightening of muscles in the man’s arm is visible. He’s pressing the knife against Amy’s throat. The choked noise she makes breaks Jake’s heart. “Lieutenant Santiago and I are going to leave this apartment. Then we will say our goodbyes. I still have somewhere to be.”

With slow but deliberate steps, he shuffles past Rosa, Amy in his clutches. Rosa can’t do anything but further order him to drop the knife, to let her go, to give up. Jake telepathically tries to remind her of Palm Springs, Florida. Of how Amy shot the hostage’s leg and the hostage taker had to let go. His shin prickles at the memory.

Jake watches through the open door as Darius and Amy near the front door that’s lying there on the floor, broken out of its hinges.

Amy stumbles as they step around it.

Darius violently pulls her upright.

Then he stops.

A gun pokes into his back from behind. Someone is standing in the doorway to the apartment.

“You heard Detective Diaz,” Captain Holt says. “I would advise you to do as she says.”

Darius is surrounded.

His eyes frantically search for an escape.

There is none.

The knife clatters to the floor.

He pushes Amy away from him, turns and tries to do the same with Holt, but he has no chance.

As soon as he’s caught, Amy runs over to Jake. She removes the gag and the ties and crouches before him as he sags into himself in relief and exhaustion and pain. Her fingers card through his messy hair.

“God, Jake… Are you okay?”

He nods. Everything hurts and he’s starting to shake, but he’s okay. He’s safe. She’s safe. And Mac. (And Kirkwell.)

While Holt’s taking Darius away and Rosa calls an ambulance, Jake tells Amy what happened.

“We should interrogate Kirkwell,” he finishes. “And maybe ask our neighbors if they’re missing a chair, because I don’t know whose chair I’m sitting on right now.

“It’s the one from the hallway corner. Jake, it’s been there for years!”

“Oh, that one! You’re right.” He’s walked past it so many times, it became part of the environment for him. Why it was even there, he doesn’t know, either. “Sorry, I’m a little bit woozy.”

She takes out a handkerchief and dabs at the cut on his arm, but stops when he winces and hisses.

“Ames, how did you know I’m here?”

Amy tells him about Kirkwell in the bathrobe, about finding his car at the water park and driving back to talk to the guy.

“While I was trying to get something useful out of him, Terry called and said that a Richard Erickson had just come to the precinct to tell us about his brother’s intentions. They worked together to get revenge on Kirkwell. While Darius was here with you, Richard left your car and personal things at the water park and waited for his brother to call him. They wanted to find Kirkwell and, well…”

“Finish things up,” Jake concludes and she nods. “What about Kirkwell?”

“Charles picked him up. He says Rebecca Erickson followed them and told them everything before anyone could start interrogating Kirkwell. Apparently, he’d proudly confessed everything to her in the throws of passion not long before I came back.”

Jake softly shakes his head with a smile. “Idiots, these murderers. They never learn.”

“I know, right?” She grins back and he is once again struck by the beauty of her, not just her smile, but her, her everything. And he gets to spend his life with her. It’s so crazy.

“By the way,” he pulls himself out of his own musings, “I think I found a title for the case.”

“You want to name the case?”

“It’s our last case together, Ames! Of course it’s gonna have a name.”

She rolls her eyes but he can see her lips twitch.

“This fact, plus the circumstances of the victim’s death, made me come up with the perfect title.”

She looks at him expectantly and he grins.

“The Last Ride.”

[rxdshood-a]

bring on the monsters // batbros discord

WHO: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd. Mentions of Barbara Gordon, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, and Ra’s al Ghul.

WORD COUNT: 3663 words.

LOCATION: Dick’s apartment.

GENERAL NOTES: Jason visits breaks into Dick’s apartment to get some answers on how to get their brother back.

WARNINGS: Brief vague mention of past death, past injuries.

JASON:

Jason was staring entirely too hard at the apartment building before him. One he couldn't even recall if he ever stepped foot in. In all honesty, he doesn't think he has. Mostly out of pure spite and deep seated anger that had been under the surface, frothing and bubbling up ever since he saw Tim donning the Robin suit. There was a lot of anger he held for Bruce, but that in turn trickled down and started to build for one Dick Grayson. The big brother he had wanted and craved in his Robin years, feeling left behind as he saved the world with his Titans. One of two people he had choked out for with blood dripping down his lips, broken fingers clawing at the locked door that was seconds away from blowing. 

There was reluctance Jason always held to let anyone in, let anyone close enough to really get in close proximity to his jagged and sharp edges. He had seen too much of himself in Tim, in the other Gotham boy with something to prove. The replacement had gone from a bitter reminder to what was taken from him to someone who understood, someone to look out for. Be the big brother that he always wanted. Now he was gone, all because Ra's al Ghul. 

The mere mention of the name sent that green fog striking out like a deadly viper. 

Tampering down the anger, Jason rolled his shoulders back and he huffed, taking to the alleyway and to the fire escape ladder. He eased the window open, slipping into the apartment and shutting it behind him. Immediately his nose wrinkled up at the mess. Of course. Kicking a shoe out of his pathway, Jason made his way through the disarray and into the living room to take a seat and wait.

And wait until the door was unlocked and pushed open. "You and me gotta talk, big bird." Oh. That...was. That was a name from a lifetime ago. Entirely too long ago, a sour memory that was shoved to the side and eyes steeled as he stared at his older brother Dick.

DICK:

Dick wasn't the best at dealing with missing members of a team, of a family. There was something in him that Bruce never managed to snuff out: a light that never dimmed, and with that came every repressed emotion the big bad Bat himself never let out. Now, more than ever, Dick felt more like Batman than he did Nightwing, throwing himself into his jobs, rarely taking breaks to rest... Is this what Tim did? Why they both seemed to be shadows lurking in deeper shadows? It was a bad habit they all gathered, he thought, the justification settling in his brain as he fumbled with a key, unlocking his door, ready to switch uniforms and go again.

The minute the door swung open, something felt off about the room. He didn't switch on the light, scanning carefully until he found a shape on his couch. Shit, was this Wilson again?? What the hell did he want this time? Putting on his best scowl, Dick reached for the emergency 'rangs (He called them wing-dings once upon a time. Where did the fun go?) stashed in the duffel full of his police uniform and slammed the light on with an elbow.... deflating the minute he saw his younger brother instead of his adversary

Not in disappointment. Relief.

With a heaved sigh, the vigilante dropped the throwing weapon, absently kicking it to the side and fully shutting his door. "Jason," another breath, wandering over to stand in front of the other, one open hand on his hip, some weird sort of exhausted sorrow taking over his face. "This is a bit of a surprise... Always figured I'd be the one climbing through your window to get you to actually sit and talk to me again."

JASON:

Jason merely cocked an eyebrow when he was faced with a batarang aimed right at him. "Already got a fun scar from one of those, Dickhead, it wouldn't be too surprising to get another one." He gestured at the slash on the side of his neck from what seemed like years ago, but also entirely too fresh. The sting from the injury, from who gave it to him would never cease he thought. There was an eye roll when it was merely dropped to the floor, among all the other disarray. 

"First of all, do you even know where I live?" Jason had made sure to not ever divulge that information for a reason, spiteful intentions and anger at keeping the family as far away from him as he could manage. Though, he wouldn't be surprised if Tim knew. He could cover his tracks, he had been good at that, but give Tim a haystack and he'd find that needle. 

The thought of his little brother brought him back to the present, shaking his head and standing before Dick. It was still disconcerting from time to time to Jason to stand taller than the eldest Robin. There were times he forgot he wasn't nearly as small as he once was when he ran around donning the scaly shorts and cape. For some it was a lifetime ago, for him? Was too close to feeling like it had just been yesterday.

"I have Tim's laptop." Straight to it, no beating around the bush. "His other one, because c'mon. You guys really thought he only had one laptop? Please." Jason huffed, "and before you ask, yes, it's unlocked. He has to have something that can lead us to him and I..." This was the difficult part, the part Jason had been dreading. Asking for help. He didn't ask for help. He had always been so headstrong, determined to do things on his own after feeling burned and shunned by the people he had once considered family. Now? He knew he couldn't do this alone, as much as it pained him to admit that to himself silently. 

"We...we need to get our brother back. So I need you to get your head out of your ass and help me save him." Okay, maybe not the best way to ask. The immediate urge to lash out and be scathing, keep people, especially his family, at arm's length rearing its ugly head. There was a moment of vulnerability, but he reared it back as soon as it happened.

DICK:

Everything he said just had to make Dick feel shitty, didn't it? Every word meant to twist the multiple knives he'd already thrown deeper into his chest, get a rise out of him for no particular reason outside of seeing his reaction. The smirk he'd get from a normal crack like that would usually have him snarling back, but this time they both stayed calm, neutral. This was business, they suddenly had a job to do.

One eyebrow ticked up slightly at the mention of another laptop. Sure, he knew Tim had a desktop and one laptop he used for classes, for travel... But it felt very Tim to have another one hidden away. Damn, he should've known. At least Jason was getting to the point, getting most of the information out there so there was less of a struggle, less work trying to question what they were really trying to do here. With another jab at his ego to boot. Great.

Dick let himself sigh again, sounding more gravely than before. A grunt, a hum, letting the stuffed bag fall from his shoulder. "Right. It's past time to do something about this." Surprising the World's Greatest Detective hadn't been able to find the Second to hold the title, but Tim was good at covering himself, he knew everyone's tricks. It was a wonder that this secret, and obviously not wanting to be known of, computer was in their hands. 

"Well..." A vague hand gesture, his eyes flashing with just the faintest light of hope. "Let's crack that puppy open, see what we're working with." With any of that residual hope, they'd pop open a mini-Bat-Computer with all the information they'd want.

JASON:

"Entirely way too past time to do something." Jason reiterated with a huff. "I haven't actually looked at it yet. Figured I'd...well. Wait for you." The admission was one that had him grimacing out of sheer habit. It was ingrained in him to keep Dick at arm's length, the golden boy who was everyone's favorite. The man he never was able to live up to. Though, deep in the back of his mind, there was still that Robin that was leaping around to impress his older brother and laugh over shared ridiculous stories of Bruce over the best chili dogs in Gotham City. 

"Right. Let's...do that." Jason shook his head, shoving away any remaining nostalgia. He grabbed the backpack he had tucked away at his feet before Dick entered his apartment and unzipped it, tugging out the laptop he had managed to snatch while visiting Steph. The reminder of her empty, sad eyes had him letting out a harsh breath, ignoring the residual sting and opening up the laptop. 

"Let's see what you got for us, Timbers." Jason muttered, the now unlocked screen coming to life before them. He was eternally thankful for Babs and her getting him into Tim's laptop with no questions asked despite her obvious curiosity. He knew she likely knew what he was up to, but regardless, kept her questions to herself, trusting him. That was more he could say for some of the bats.

DICK:

Wait for him. Now why would the guy who's been avoiding his ass for months, years, be saying something like that? Dick noticed the flinch, the facial tick. Jason didn't like saying it either. That was either a lie, an admittance, or... something he didn't really know how to exactly describe. Jason was always a hard read, maybe that's because he read him so much when he was younger, knew his affinity for literal body language.  Wouldn't it be something to get a true read on him someday?

The small smile that came up was genuine on his side, shoulders slightly relaxing as the other finally pulled the hopefully final piece of evidence they needed to crack this case wide open. It almost made him laugh, how many bats did you need to really dig into this smart-ass's tech? He'd known Tim since he started the Robin gig, just barely before then, met him even when he was still the youngest Flying Grayson, not the only, the last surviving. 

Dick came around to the side, watching at a moderate, and hopefully safe, distance at Jason's side. Yep, suspicions confirmed. It was like he copy-pasted the entire Cave operating system into his personal work-horse. He didn't even want to know what kind of customization Tim had to do to get that to work, let alone make it look so inconspicuous. While they all got the same detective and forensic training, it was really the smaller bird that took it and ran, really got into the tech side of it all. Who knows, without him they might be stuck in the stone ages of steel 'rangs without radio tech.

Reminiscing aside, Dick squinted at the screen, the all-too-common tick most of their family kind adapted from the old man. (It starts as a joke, the "bat-squint", then you start doing it unironically.) "Alright. We have it, it's unlocked and most likely decoded... Where to start?"

JASON:

Jason eyed Dick when he came around to stand near him. He refrained from outright snarling at the close proximity and instead turned back to the laptop screen. He would have time later on to punch Dick in the throat, or dick. The thought made him smirk slightly and he focused on the task at hand. It wasn't surprising in the slightest Tim had his own version of the computer in the Cave, because of course he would. Jason had snooped in Tim's room while Steph had finally vacated Tim's room (probably at Alfred's prompting) for 'fresh air'. The moment he had found the computer he had bolted from the manor, trying to ignore the anxiety that threatened to choke him with its intensity. 

"Guess the answer to that stupid question would be to see if he has any League related files." The barb was out before Jason could stop it and he grimaced internally. It was a reflex, to lash out at his former...family, if you could call it that, to take a knife and shove it in violently and twist and twist until it hit something vital. Maybe it was to see if they'd react just like he feared thought they would, say something equally as harsh and biting to make the already wide canyon between them even bigger. 

Jason bit back the urge to immediately lash out again, throw out another biting remark and instead starting typing to find anything League related on the computer. His brow furrowed at the files that popped up, clicking into them and trying to find something, anything that would help. "Oh shit." He breathed out. "He's been tracking their movements. Holy shit."

DICK:

Dick didn't allow himself to flinch away. He was staying right there, right where he could double check the evidence himself, go through the regular process of sleuthing. Jason could try all he wanted to keep pushing him away, but Dick wasn't one to give up so easily. Just as much as he held harsh grudges, he held on to those past bonds he wished he could tie back up. After all, it was the younger bird that came to him. He couldn't fight this chance to at least attempt to make things right again.

The squint on his face widened as red-tinted files flashed open in front of his very eyes. Direct pattern mapping, software that was still tracking movement, lists of known members, known affiliates, known locations. "Holy info overload," he mumbled, leaning in closer with a hand fisting in his hair. "Way to get 'traught, baby bird." There was a small flicker of pride in his heart, a smile following as he absorbed as much of what he was seeing. It was a lot. Yet another thing he had no clue how Tim managed to keep complete track of, the kid was surprising him still every day.

Surprise.... "Check on last known locations of Red Robin. He had to have a tracker built into the suit, something to... to track his own data output. Tim was a walking computer in that thing, there has to be a pinpoint where his tech stopped transmitting data."

JASON:

Jason's eyes took in all the information he could. Dick was right, it was a shit ton of information. What did they expect from Tim though? There was an overload of info they were sifting through and Tim likely was able to keep it all straight. The kid surprised him more and more each day. Not that Jason would admit that. Well, with anyone else present at least. 

"Got it, Big Bird." Jason muttered without much thought, typing rapidly to pull up the last location that Tim was pinged to. It took a few moments but Jason was able to pull up the coordinates of the last pinged location Tim had been to before all data had been halted. "He was pinged to some warehouse." Jason frowned after inputting the coordinates. 

Looking over at his brother predecessor, Jason cocked an eyebrow. "I always hated warehouses." He huffed out a breath, ruffling the white stripe of hair. "What now? We go look at that warehouse? We follow the leads he has? He has to have their last known base on here, somewhere we can find the bastard."

DICK:

... Something clicked, wide eyes snapping a big wider as he stared. Did he hear that right? Was he saying that the entire time?? That's a nickname he hadn't heard in years, not since he went off to college, the police academy in Haven, when he'd been gone for too long. Did he ever apologize for those nights he'd forgotten about? Did Jason even remember those times? No, focus, Grayson. You have a job to do. One brother is already here, you need to get to the other one.

"Warehouses. It always has to be warehouses, doesn't it?" The crack fell flat, daring a quick look at the other's scar-riddled face was enough to remind him exactly why Jason hated them. Nevemind. A hand went to cover his mouth, thinking silently as the evidence set in front of them rattled his brain. "... Cross-reference the last date and time of Tim's transmissions with air transport of the League. See of there was any aircraft his software marked suspicious." If the program he'd made even had time to create that kind of label, if it even worked if the man wasn't manning it.

"And... Check for any influx of League mandated imports. If Ra's was planning on keeping company, he's going to want to stay there himself." Commanding the charge like this, it was a different kind of nostalgia. As far as he knew, the two birds were equals, working on the same playing field with different strategies that ultimately got the job done. Maybe he was overstepping, maybe he was asking for too much at once. "If... If we can find a hot spot, that might just be our target." It sounded unbelievable, to find a man nearly impossible to find until he showed up at your door with his own curtains to bust through, and yet here it was, all the evidence at their fingertips. It was almost terrifying.

JASON:

Jason huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Where else would the bad guys do their illegal activities? In a Kohl's?" He muttered, "at least something a bit more grandeur would be entertaining for once. They never think of us." At Dick's prompting, Jason immediately started typing and searching for their gotcha moment. This felt entirely too familiar, Jason blinked and suddenly he was a foot shorter, donning black gloves and a cape sat at his back. The familiar flash of blue in the corner of his eye as they poured over the computer, working seamlessly together while Bruce observed from a distance away. The one time they didn't actually fight.

A sharp breath was exhaled and familiar scarred fingers replaced the gloved ones, body too big for what he was used to back once more. It was dizzying, made him long for simpler times, times where he didn't feel like he was against his family at every turn. Where they didn't hate—

Enough.

"I got it. I don't need to be ordered around. I was never your Robin, don't start acting like it now." Jason snapped, the nostalgia burning and hurting, the immediate response to lash out flaring up in an instant. His jaw clenched and he continued typing, eyes moving in a rapid fashion as he read and read trying to make it click. To find that missing puzzle piece.

"...I think I got it." Jason let out a breath and turned the laptop to face Dick, pointing at the coordinates that popped up. "Influx of League import. Air travel that left not too far from the warehouse Tim was last pinged at, sent straight for where the influx was located. We...I think we got him, Dick."

DICK:

Things were going so smoothly. It really felt like things were going to work again. Falling into place, fixing a shattered relationship with ducttape... But some things probably just weren't meant to be fixed. Maybe their relationship was too beyond repair, Dick barely even flinched at Jason's lashing. Was he really too used to it by now? The thought had sadness settling in his eyes, but a small frown just underneath them. 

Venom, pure venom, meant to hurt and kill. Push him away even further. If he wasn't such a damn fool he'd think it was a lost cause. 

The revelation broke his current thought process, most emotion wiping to a blank flatline state as his eyes caught the big red target they were looking for. I think we got him. It felt too good to be true. "Holy... Shit." Dick leaned in, hand over his mouth in shock, slightly as he rushed through the flood of information again. "Gee... What... Do we go? We can't charge into this head first, he's expecting us..." No, wait. No he'd be expecting Bruce. A justification crossed his mind, whipping once again to lock eyes with his younger, lost brother. "He won't expect you at all. You can lead the charge."

JASON:

"Of course he's expecting us. He's been expecting us since Steph went missing only to be dumped on the doorstep of the manor, bruised and bleeding." Jason sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He froze the moment Dick whipped around and made eye contact with him. The shock was clear as day on his face. Him? Dick wanted him to play leader? The man who everyone always turned to take the lead? It wasn't that he didn't know how to play leader, he was just as bossy and commanding as the other Robins, but he didn't think Dick well...Believed in him, if he was going to be honest.

Wiping the surprise off his face, Jason took a few moments to debate over it. Ra's wouldn't expect him, the divide between the bats he's had for so long, to be working with them may just be unexpected. To have Jason leading it all at least would be. This might just work. They had the pieces of the puzzle put together before them, now they just had to act.

Looking at his...his brother, Jason nodded once. "Okay. Let's fuckin' do this then. We'll kick Ra's al Ghul's ass and get our little brother back."

[ayankun]

real quick before I get into season 6

So this is my second time watching Season 6 and I’m p. excited.  This last week or so I’ve been dredging up bits and pieces, but most of it is a blur.  It seems the memories that lasted this whole year were mostly of the huge armored truck and the nonbinary character who works at *spoilers*’s tech startup.

I’m curious to see if the second time through it’ll settle in like it belongs.  I remember Season 5 really didn’t make any sense to me until I saw it again.

But really I’m just excited that in 11 hours I can watch the new stuff?!

But first, before I forget, here’s my last thoughts on Season 5.

So remember how I was surprised at Season 1′s structure, that it folded up nicely down the middle with some pretty tidy symmetry?

None of the other seasons do that.

Instead, I remember particularly strongly how jarring the end of the Ghost Rider arc was in the middle of Season 4.  And then again when the (what I’m calling) Kasius arc also wrapped up mid-season.

I’m not sure when I read about it, but it probably was circa Ghost Rider, that they’d intentionally decided on what I’m pretty sure they called “pods” of episodes, these seasons-within-a-season sort of narratives.

Season 2 sort of kicks it off, what with the race to Terragenesis taking eps 1-10 and the Afterlife/splinter SHIELD stories filling 11-22.  Then Season 3 has the monolith/Maveth mystery to start, followed by Hive & the Inhumans for the second half.  S4 is super poddy, obviously branded as Ghost Rider/Agents of Hydra, and S5 also splits neatly into future!Lighthouse and present day!Lighthouse.

Two points to make on this:

Kasius is such a rockstar villain that I feel really bad for Hale/Ruby/Talbot.  They’re so apples and oranges but having the highlight come first allows for unfavorable comparisons to be made.  It’s like asking any well-to-do Kree to compare Xandarian snail to oops all berries.

Good thing they’d had all this practice writing complete stories in 12 eps, since I’m hoping Season 6 (and obvs Season 7) will still feel as fully formed as their longer antecedents.

Anyway, that first point is my major point for S5.

S3 already feels like the second half of S2, and its internal halves are the most similar to each other as any of the other “pods,” so it’s not like people have a reason to go around saying “I liked the first half of the season waaay better than the second.”

(although I might.  I might say that, actually.  but not because the halves were branded separately from one another)

And S4, though the two halves are barely identifiable as coming from the same show much less the same season, they’re both good.  Robbie Reyes is perfect.  The effort to incorporate new MCU topics/aesthetic from Doctor Strange is great.  Robots who just want to be a real girl is my JAM.  All the Framework cameos really make my day!  And then Robbie Reyes comes back all deus ex machina (ironic) and saves the day, and

it makes sense that he does because the function and nature of the Darkhold was well established in part 1 and

it’s GREAT that he does because he’s perfect and we miss him.

Then here comes S5.  I really really respect so much about the creative decisions that took the story where it went (ie, outside Papa MCU’s sphere of interference), and getting to reuse the same set in a different context while minimizing “on-location” shoots is just technical and financial genius, okay. 

But there’s so much about the first half, in the future, that compels me waaaaaaay more than the gritty anger of the second half. 

Kasius, WOW what a villain.  Dominic Rains, everyone.  I have nothing unkind to say about the performance, the character, anything.  Impeccable.  Spectacular.  Perfection.

The mystery of the season opener!  We had the tag scene where Coulson’s “in space” and plenty of time to ruminate on the how and why, especially with Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 coming out right as S4 ended and Thor: Ragnarok literally sizzling in the theaters at the same time as this season started.  They answer the question by the end of the episode, but not before several characters come up with and pursue several different theories, and that’s fun.

What a way to capitalize on the Inhuman storyline your show’s been about for years now, without forcing Papa MCU to contend with all this good work you’ve been doing.  Just go somewhere he can’t reach you (the future), and then un-write all of it anyway.  V. tidy.  Extra style points will be awarded.

LEITMOTIFS.  If y’all’ve seen BSG, then you know Bear McCreary is a master of the art.  But this season has so many good themes, my friends.  The Daisy/Quake theme that’s been knocking around for a season is here in full force, and Sinara’s is the best bad guy theme you could have wanted, and dearest sweetest Flint has the best great guy theme you ever heard.

Just, while we’re here.  Sinara.  She says nothing for episodes (it feels like, I wasn’t counting) and her first line is a scornfully growled “compassion.”  Give it up for Florence Faivre !!!  She hardly has any lines but you always know exactly what she’s thinking and what she’s about.  Sinara and Kasius have the richest on-screen chemistry of anybody on any show from any era fight me on this I dare you.

Mack’s coming down from his second life in the Framework, and that suuuuucks that these folks never have a moment to rest before barreling into their next story.  But he gets to be a father to Flint!  And Yo-Yo gets to be a mother!!!  UGH why couldn’t they have brought Flint instead of Deke lololol oh well.

I think I know another reason why Lincoln seems overhyped to me.  That other Inhuman, Ben I think his name is?  He’s in like two episodes, serves a narrative purpose, and is disposed.  I know Lincoln’s in like 18 times as many episodes but they have the same exact overall impact on my brain-hole.  Imagine if it was Ben that came back with them instead of Deke.  That’s how I feel about Lincoln.  Like, how did this obviously disposable character make it this far?

Then you have Deke.  You love to hate him.  He’s a very well-fashioned character who is flawless in making you feel the way the showrunners want you to feel.  That’s the kind of character that gets killed off twice and still comes back, and it doesn’t surprise you.

So, Enoch.  Enoch is everyone’s favorite character, right?  Right.  Give me genderless robots with a soft spot for humanity ANY DAY.  PLEASE where are they I need them.  (I’m un-repressing memories of S6 and I feel like somehow I should be careful what I wish for)  Man I remember with 1000% clarity the absolute glee I felt sitting down for the opening montage of S5 the first time, how ballsy weird it was, just watching this freaky bald alien of a man go swimming with some fun electro pop number playing in the background.  100/10 please make more television like this

 More monoliths!!  The time one is so pretty!

(remember when there were more monoliths and no one knew where they came from or what they did but then it didn’t matter because they got instantly exploded?)

The low-key obvious answers to the season’s questions, what with the Inhumans running all over the shop, Quake there to tear everything down and Flint there to put the pieces back together I’m not crying you’re crying

Oh man, and Simmons getting to mentor not one but two Inhuman youths to be confident and trust in themselves and their powers.  What a ways from the fear-panic response to Daisy when she turned.

Also, yeah, it has to be said, this show’s blatant “you’re different and that’s okay” agenda sits very well with me.  Agents of SHIELD says LGBTQ+ rights!

So anyway, part 2 falls a little flat for me because its strength is its themes, but I’m not really compelled by the stakes and definitely not by the villains and not really even by the intra-team drama.

Obviously S2 touched on parenthood, but it was pretty specific.  S5 digs in and brings us a lot more on the topic.

Kasius desperately desires his father’s approval but very deeply despises the methods and the people who earn it.

Hale was indoctrinated by Hydra and was very earnest in wanting to uphold the values of the organization, until the organization (and Whitehall) shared with her their narrow appreciation of the gift of her loyalty.  Even then, she struggles to make sense of this loyalty, only realizing too late that being a good Hydra pawn and a good parent are categorically mutually exclusive.

Ruby, obviously, is like a mini-Kasius, the brave-faced rebel who wears her mother’s disappointment on her sleeve like a badge of honor to pretend that it isn’t crippling her.

The Von Strucker kid, boy is he messed up (and his Hydra dad had something to do with it)

((echos of Ward are still heard even this far after his demise, and we know what his father figures were like))

Poor Talbot, got some brain damage and some Hydra conditioning on top of that, cracked that noggin wide open.  He just wanted to do good by his family.  Just wanted his son to know he loves him.

Polly and Robin.  The daughter who needs constant special care because she’s stuck inside her own mind and the mother who’s been through hell and back and still manages to do her best.  Even when she knows she won’t always be there for her daughter.  Even when she knows she’ll be replaced.

May getting a glimpse at the life she and Andrew once talked about.  Getting a chance to do right by that little girl.

Mack recovering from getting that same glimpse, from the echoing memories of a life time spent with his greatest regret erased.  Being roped into being a thug and threatening that dad without knowing the meaning behind his threat -- being told that people like him don’t deserve the privilege of parenthood.  But then getting to know Flint, and having Yo-Yo at his side while they fast track this kid through all the things he’s gonna need to know in order to be the Big Damn Hero the world needs him to be.

The timey-wimey promise that FitzSimmons will one day be parents to a brilliant daughter who will unfortunately give birth to a Deke.

Coulson and Daisy.  Another parent placing enormous expectations on his daughter, desperate that she be ready for his responsibilities because his time is running out.  A daughter who mishandles these expectations and refuses to stop fighting a losing battle, not because she’s not ready to step up, but because she doesn’t want to face the fact that she’s losing the man who raised her.

Anyway, aside from all this good Theme work, part 2 wades perfunctorily through musty remnants of the previous season, from The Doctor to The Russian.  Which makes sense, because that season ended in a way that left so many loose threads -- but then this season comes along and summarily ties them up, all cute little bows, the lot of them.  Dusts its hands.  Nothing to see here.  Move along now.  Time’s up.

[shockwrites]

Study Session

Author’s Note: Aaaaaaand Deltarune trash

Series: Deltarune

Pairing: Slight Kris/Susie

Length: 1378 words

Rating: Safe

You’re having a minor panic attack.

You only say ‘minor’ because you’re just that good at hiding it. You’ve always been. Sure it seemed creepy to just about everyone else in town (they’ve even told you straight to your face on occasion), but right at this moment, that skill was a blessing in disguise.

“Sup.”

Because she was here.

Outside of school.

In your house.

Susie was at your house.

You had no idea why that was such a surprise. You invited her over. What, did you think she’d say ‘yes’ and not come?

…Well, you might’ve before the both you became friends.

“You gonna invite me in or what?”

Susie’s flicking of your forehead snapped you back to reality. She did that often, sometimes to mess with you, other times to poke you out of those daydreams you constantly found yourself in. You wordlessly invite her in with a goofy presentation pose that caused her to snicker.

Susie tentatively glanced around the place. The house was as clean as it always was. Mom always did keep the place looking spotless although it wasn’t as if you were capable of making much mess.

Susie whistled casually. “Cozy digs.” She nonchalantly eased herself onto the couch. You heard her emit a sound you swore you never heard before. You halt your first instinct to make a sarcastic jab about her actually seeming happy for once.

By all means, not an easy task.

You were reluctant to interrupt her relaxation time but you remembered that you invited her over for a reason.

Upon hearing the news, Susie groaned out of boredom as expected. “Aw come on, Kris.” She complained, lounging further on top of the couch. Toriel certainly would not have approved of feet on top of the furniture but you decided to leave it be. “It’s not like either of us are on the honor roll or some crap. Can’t we just brush off the homework and play video games?” She eyed the particularly interesting looking game console that was recently hooked back up to the TV.

You remind her that Ms. Alphys basically passes her students just by at least handing something in. Susie scoffs in reply but finally decides to roll with it anyway.

An hour passes by of comfortable silence. So far, your pencil scribbling was the only sound in the room washing over both of you. You occasionally saw Susie scrawling something down on her own paper but it was only when your hand moved away from the answer you just wrote.

This was nice. Normally, you found doing schoolwork at home was too much of a chore – at least without your brother. You recalled when Asriel would often help you with math equations you were certain weren’t real. Long division was the spawn of demons and no one could tell you otherwise. At least with Asriel there, it seemed less like a chore. You would even play Super Smashing Fighters afterward.

But then he left.

You mentally chastise yourself for bringing up those repressed feelings. Yes, he was gone but you knew that moping about it wasn’t going to do anything. And besides…

“Hey, you got anything to eat here? I’m starving.”

At least you weren’t alone now.

You inform Susie that you put a platter of cookies to bake not too long ago. Double chocolate chip, just for those moments when single chocolate chip didn’t cut it. Man, your stomach was growling just thinking about it.

“Oh…is that what’s burning?”

Burning? They can’t be burning. You only put them in the oven before you started your home…work.

SHIT

You really hope Susie didn’t see your eyes nearly popping out of your skull as you stumbled over your own feet making a beeline for the kitchen. You know for sure she’s gonna laugh at you for that.

It was too late. The cookies you stuffed in the oven were entirely unrecognizable, merely pitch black remains of what they were intended to be. You wonder how Mom makes baking seem so easy, having some sort of six sense as to when food was finished baking.

Then you remember that you forgot to set the timer.

The crusty burnt smell only served to make your walk of shame seem worse. What kind of host serves burnt snacks? And to your best friend? For shame, Kris Dreemurr. For sha-

“Oh, shit are those the cookies?”

You hardly have time to respond before your guest snatches a black cookie from the platter. You stare at her in awe for a solid minute, watching her snarf down the piece of charcoal down whole before going in for seconds. You then remember that this was the same person who ate chalk.

Out of curiosity, you decide to try your handiwork.

Only to hack it back out the second the crusty black flakes touched your throat. Your stomach felt betrayed. Deceived by the promise of chocolate and met with the bitter taste of disappointment. You didn’t answer when she asked if you were gonna finish it, merely handing the half bitten snack to her in defeat. You wonder just how tolerant monster stomachs are for a brief moment before returning back to your homework.

Eventually, it was getting frustrating staring at the same question for the better half of 15 minutes.

You could tell Susie was feeling the same way. She was mostly waiting for you to finish just to copy. You felt the urge to remind her that that method wasn’t exactly helping you. You really wanted to get this over with so you could properly hang out and play video games but you felt the itch reaching you sooner than you anticipated.

…You figure you deserve a little break.

--

“You suuuuuuuck.”

Susie’s salt-coated insults were almost music to your ears. Somehow, you realize that this was what your brother must have been tasting after all those years of straight up destroying you at video games.

It felt wonderful.

You cheekily asked Susie if she was up for a rematch. The monster’s pride of course never failed to disappoint. As you prepped to pick your usual main, the dread pink gumball, you heard the door open.

“Kris? I’m home!”

Smiling, you greet your mother with a wave which she sweetly returned. Her expression froze however when her eye caught sight of your guest.

“Uhh, hi Ms. Toriel.” Susie awkwardly responded. Seeing a teacher outside of school. You’ve been there. It’s beyond weird. You didn’t blame her for feeling a bit out of place.

Your mother, on the other hand, looked like her brain had just exploded and was putting itself back together. “Oh Kris, you brought…a friend?! A girl?! Friendgirl?!? Girlfriend??!??!”

Somehow Toriel pieced the whole thing together in the worst word association possible. You were speechless (which wasn’t entirely surprising). It took a moment to search for a proper response but luckily Susie did all the talking for you.

“Girlfriend?! Wh-Heck no!” You were impressed at how well she censored herself. “It’s-it’s nothing like that, I mean…Tell her, Kris!”

You attempted to back up her claim but in a tiny moment of weakness, your lucid imagination worked against you, planting a not quite unpleasant scenario of you and Susie.

You and Susie.

Engaging in only the most heinous of all debaucherous acts:

Holding hands.

The controller dropped from your hand. No words left your mouth. Even more mortifying, your face was now a shade redder. Susie looked at you with total betrayal, though from the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn there was a light tint of pink along her scaly cheeks.

Amidst the embarrassed air of the living room, your mother grinned widely at Susie. “I’ll just leave you two be for now. Would you like some pie? Oh! How about some tea? Why don’t I set the table for you!”

She bolted right over to the kitchen faster than she rambled. Total silence fell over both you and Susie, neither of you even playing the game. You dared to glance at her, only to be met with an expression you could only describe as an unholy blend of anger, embarrassment, and…flattery?

You shoot her a sheepish smile.

She shot you a punch to your arm.

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Seven Deadly Stops

You thought we were done, but we weren’t done.

Part 1 is here

Second

He's not a Brexiteer, she shortly learns.

The train hasn't moved in at least thirty minutes and Lily is definitely going to miss her reservation if it doesn't shift soon, resulting in one angry sister and at least five passive-aggressive text messages about disappointed hopes.

Petunia knows how to shoot for the guilt valve. She could make it an Olympic sport.

Lily is twenty-six years old today, and quite familiar with her sister's manipulative tricks, but sometimes the shot lands true and busts that valve wide open. She is not immune to Petunia’s arrows, though she is less susceptible than others.

Still, the tasty snack she’s just befriended is not a Brexiteer.

He might still be a cannibalistic murderer, but he is adamantly pro-EU.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

"Ever been to Côte Brasserie?" she asks him, shifting in her seat to ward off a numb bottom that somehow feels inevitable.

James frowns slightly. "Is that the French place?"

"Yes."

"I'm not a fan of French food."

"All French food?"

"I'm not a fan of France, full stop," he says decidedly, and with a look of distaste thrown in for afters. "Ever been there? They're all smug bastards."

So her tasty snack is not a fan of every country in the European Union, but that’s not a dealbreaker.

"You shouldn't subscribe to stereotypes," she airily retorts. "The French would say we're all badly dressed—"

"I've never worn socks with sandals."

"—and uptight, and sexually repressed."

"Well," he says loftily, "now you're just digging into my personal life."

"But suggesting that we're both dead is an acceptable segue into friendly conversation?"

"Acceptable or not, it worked."

"And?"

"I'm not sexually repressed, Lily."

"And I'm thrilled for you, James," she returns, smiling slightly as she mimics his stubborn tone, "but could you answer my original question?"

"Yes, sorry. No, I've never been to Côte," he admits, lifting one hand to scratch the top of his head. His hair is fucking beautiful, so much so that the adjective deserves the italics, not to mention the preceding profanity. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I've never been either, but I'm heading—well, I was supposed to be heading there for dinner with my sister, but that seems unlikely now."

"Oh, shit."

"Sounds about right."

"This transport system is such bollocks."

"Tell me about it."

He drops his hand into his lap, cocking his head sideways. "Maybe they’ll keep your table if we get moving soon?"

"It’s the person sitting at the table I’m worried about," she darkly intones, and slides her hand into her purse, her fingers closing around her phone. "My sister is what you might call high-maintenance, but not the good kind of high-maintenance."

"Elaborate?"

"I mean she's the kind of person you have to walk on eggshells around because she gets off on feeling mistreated," Lily continues, "but the things she gets offended about are never things that matter, just trivial nonsense—like, if I don't 'like' one of her Facebook photos, she'll assume that I'm slyly calling her ugly." She withdraws her phone and waves it in the air. "And since I've not been able to text her since the train stopped, she's naturally going to assume that I'm standing her up on purpose."

"Really?" He pulls a face. "Not that you're, like...in peril or something?"

"My being in peril would really put a dampener on Petunia's perpetual victimhood."

"Your sister's name is Petunia?"

Her phone is returned to her purse. "Spotted a theme, have you?"

"I think I understand why she's so unpleasant, with a name like Petunia," he says with an accompanying laugh. "She might as well have been born with dentures and a zimmer frame. Is she older or younger than you?"

"Older."

"Well, there you go," he simply concludes. "She's madly jealous."

"Of what?"

"Of you, obviously, and the pretty name your parents denied her. That's what we in the business call 'basic psychology,'" he adds, and taps his temple with one finger. "You're welcome for the breakthrough."

She glides serenely past the implied compliment, but glances at it over her shoulder with some interest as she goes. "And what business would that be?"

He doesn't blink an eyelid. "Haircare products."

"Haircare—" She lets out a loud, stuttering laugh, and he rewards her with another blindingly lovely grin. "Proximity to the human brain doesn't grant you a full working knowledge of human psychology, you know."

"I know," he agrees, "but it fit the theme of the evening."

"The theme being?"

"I blew us straight past Pride, remember?" James lands a gentle karate chop to the palm of his own hand. "Second stage: Envy. Your sister's a bloody shoe-in."

She rolls her eyes. "You’re reaching."

"Am not."

"Don’t get me wrong, you’re reaching with great accuracy—"

"As long as I’m right, it doesn’t matter how I got there." He slumps back in his seat with a satisfied smile. "Boom, got you. No regrets."

He is so very attractive.

It is so very hot on this train.

"Her husband’s name is Vernon," Lily quietly offers.

James lets out a quick, rough, viciously amused sound. "Of course it is. Nothing else makes sense. How big of an arsehole are we talking?"

"Well, he’s racist and sexist, and totally homophobic, and he thinks that Trump talks a lot of sense," she lists aloud, counting her brother-in-law's many fatal flaws on her fingers, "he’s into fox hunting in a big way and he often yells at waiters, so yeah, I’d say he’s hitting every major benchmark."

"I get you," says James, nodding wisely. "Fell out of the arsehole tree and hit every branch on the way down, right?"

"Vernon is the arsehole tree, and all must fear his branches."

"Good old Vernon."

"I always thought that getting married meant you’d found someone who you could be your best self with, but it seems to have worked the opposite way with them," says Lily thoughtfully. Her slightly narrowed eyes land directly upon his. "Or with Petunia, anyway. She’s definitely gotten snobbier, but I don’t think Vernon could get any worse."

"Maybe they have become their best selves," James suggests, "from their perspective, I mean."

"Their totally damaged perspectives? Might be."

"Vernon," James blankly repeats, like he’s trying to discern the flavour of something strange and unpleasant. "You know, I personally hold with the belief that if you can’t mash a couple’s names together, they’re pretty much dead in the water."

"What d’you mean?"

"I mean…how do you combine Petunia and Vernon in a way that sounds good?" He lifts his hands as if to demonstrate a hopeless situation. "Petunon? Verunia?"

Lily snorts. "Verunia sounds like verruca."

"It does, doesn’t it?" he agrees, and grins at her. "Possible name for a daughter?"

"Verruca Dursley," says Lily flatly, appalled by how fitting it sounds. She’s even more appalled by how much she’s grown to fancy a stranger in less than thirty-five minutes, but she shunts that matter aside. "Christ."

"Sounds delightful, doesn’t she?"

"Heaven save us all."

[mycatmoo]

The Great Escape (Oumota Weekend)

Oumota weekend

Villain vs Superhero

“So this is it. The final battle.” A voice said out of nowhere as Kaito, Maki, and Shuichi entered the final room of the villains lair.  

“Huh?” Kaito asks, looking around the dark room. He could barely see a foot in front of him, and he most certainly couldn’t see their enemy.

“Such a shame too. This is the most fun I’ve had in a loooong time.” The voice says with a dramatic sigh.

“Show yourself, Kokichi. We know its you.” Maki hisses.

“Maaan, still quite bitchy, huh, Maki Roll? Weell, if you INSIST. It is quite boring to have a conversation with people who cannot see me.” Kaito waited with baited breath to see the person the three of them has been chasing for a long time.

For some reason Kaito didn’t understand, he felt excited to see the smaller boy, but also anxious. Seeing him again would mean they would have to fight, and this fight would mean that they would never get to see him again. And something about the thought of never seeing Kokichi again made Kaito feel… hollow.

They waited a bit. Then a bit longer. Then a little bit longer. But still, he didn’t show up.

“Uh… where is he?” Shuichi asks, looking around. After that, they heard a “nishishi” come from behind them. Turning around, the three saw Kokichi in all his glory, wearing his cape and hat.

Immediately, Maki whipped out her gun, and pointing it at Kokichi.  

“Aah come on Maki Roll! Don’t be like that! After all, the villain is supposed to give a villainous monologue before the big fight! It would be no fun if you put a gun to my head beforehand!”

“So give that monologue so I can shoot you and get this done with.”

“Maaan. You always were a buzzkill. Definitely my least favorite out of your little band of heroes. By the way, where’s Kaede and Rantaro? Seems strange that you’d leave them out.”

“They stayed in case anything went wrong.” Shuichi explained.

“Well then wouldn’t it have made more sense to bring Kaede along instead of you? After all, if what you’re thinking does happen and I wind up defeating you, wouldn’t it make more sense to have “the heart” there to keep you all going instead of “the smart guy?”

“What are you going on about this time?” Kaito asks.

“Oh, you know. Just me being me. Just spouting out random nonsense that comes to my brain.”

“That has to be a lie. You never just “spout out random nonsense that comes to your brain.” Maki growls, eyes narrowing.

“Aaah man. Ya caught me. Yes, there was a point.” Kokichi says with faux disappointment, his smile still present on his face.

“So what were you talking about?” Kaito asks, putting his hand behind his head in confusion.

“If you beat me I’ll tell you! After all, I still haven’t given my villainous monologue!”

“So get to it.” Maki growls.

“Alright alright, you don’t have to rush me!

…

…

..

Oh would you look at the time, seems I gotta blast.” Kokichi says with a laugh.

‘What?”

“Well, as it turns out, I’m not actually the final boss! The boss has finally entered the room!” And with that, Kokichi runs to the door, throwing it open then slamming it shut. Kaito hears a click come from the door, and when Maki (after chasing after Kokichi) tried opening it, she found it locked.

“Its locked.” She simply says. Then, the three of them were pounded with a blinding light. It took a bit, but soon enough, Kaito adjusted to the light.

“Thaaaat’s right losers! The dude you were following all this time? He was just a ploy! I am the actual mastermind behind everything!” A voice announces. Turning to the front of front of the room, he could finally see the rest of the room. It was like a throne room, with massive windows, elaborately decorated, and a red carpet leading to massive throne. And sitting on the throne was a woman, about their age, with pinkish-blonde hair in two ponytails.

Kaito immediately recognized who it was. It was the woman who had helped them multiple times throughout this journey.

Junko Enoshima.

-

“Gotta get to the secret door, quickly.” Kokichi mutters, rushing around the floating airship that his “boss,” Junko, calls her villainous home.

He knew from the beginning that Junko was the big bad terrorizing the city. After the first bank robbery where the only thing left was a simple black and white bear hairpin, he knew it. And he knew he had to stop her.

He was one of her first “followers”, and got to the second highest rank rather quickly.

She didn’t have a clue about his plan to stop her.

As he ran through the passageway leading to the throne room, he could feel his heart rushing. His brain was working in overload. He could stop worrying that his plan would fail.

That any of those three would get hurt.

That Kaito would get hurt.

At the thought of Kaito getting hurt, he shoved the feeling into a box labeled “repression.”

It wouldn’t matter what his opinion of the “hero” was, he had more important things to worry about.

Soon, he got to the door. Grabbing a taser gun attached on his pants, hidden by his cape (he left his hat on the run here) he opened the door slowly. Looking around, he saw what he estimated would happen. Junko giving a monologue while holding Shuichi to her, holding a gun to his head. Kaito, with his sword drawn, was trying to talk her out of it, while Maki looked around for a solution.

Junko had her back to him. Good. He could work with this.

Walking out slowly, he sneaks closer to Junko, making sure he cannot hear his footsteps.

It was Kaito who saw him first. He looked about ready to say something to Kokichi, but Kokichi put his finger to his mouth in a “shh” way. As soon as he got close enough to Junko, he raised his taser, and shot her square in the back.

With a scream, Junko let go of Shuichi as she fell to her knees, shaking from the taser.

“Shuichi!” Kaito immediately exclaims, rushing over to the shaking boy and throwing his arm over his shoulder.

“Come on you three!” Kokichi immediately yells, rushing over to the secret door.

“Wait, what about Junko?!” Kaito immediately calls.  

“There is something MUCH more important to worry about right now!” Kokichi yells back, throwing open the secret door and turning around.

“And why should we trust you?” Maki asks with eyes narrowed.

“Just trust me. I’ll explain later.” And with that, Kokichi rushes through the door, not looking back to see if the three of them was following. With Junko out of commission for a little while, he could focus on the more threatening person to his plan. Monaca. His mind set, he rushes over to the control room of the ship.

Behind him, he could hear three sets of footsteps. So they WERE following him. Good. His plan was going swelly.

In fact, it was going too swell. Something about that didn’t sit right with Kokichi.

Soon enough, the group was at the control room. Putting his eye to the eye scanner, Kokichi opens the door. Peering inside, he didn’t see the little girl.

Good.

“Come in. I’ll explain.” Kokichi says, walking into the room. Letting the other three enter, he closed and locked the door.

“Why did you lock the door?” Maki asks, glaring at Kokichi.

“Relaaax. Its locked from the inside. Press the red button and you can leave.” Kokichi sighs dramatically, walking up to the computer. “Aaaanyway. As for the reason I stopped you from killing Junko and ending this here, well… It’s simple really.” Kokichi says, digging in his pocket for a flashdrive. Finding it, he sticks it into the computer, turning it on.

“If you DID kill her, it would initiate plan two of her Destroy the World plan.”

“What?!” Kaito exclaims.

“How would killing Junko be the start of a plan two?” Maki asks.

“All of her followers would be enraged… They would follow her plan to end the world if she died…”

“Ya. That’s why we have to defeat her without killing her.” Kokichi says, half paying attention. He had to take control of the ship and manage to pilot it to where DICE was hiding. From there, the police would swoop in and arrest everyone inside.

This plan would only work today. He fought tooth and nail to get all of the Remnants of Despair inside the ship today, and this was likely his one shot.

Only a few people knew of the secret door, and Junko would likely be able to narrow it down to him.

“Need help with that?” Kaito asks, surprising Kokichi slightly.

“Nishishi. I doubt YOU of all people would know what to do here!”

“Well it looks like you’re having some trouble with that.”

“Aaah. Does Kaito-chan CARE for me? The guy who was harassing you for how long?”

“Well it’s obvious that you are actually a good guy!”

“I prefer “anti-hero” y’know. Their more fun than just a boring old good guy. Just like you!”

“HEY!”

“Aaaand… Got it.” Kokichi mutters.

“Got what?” Shuichi asks.

“The wheel to this thing it based off your fingerprints. And it doesn’t recognize my fingerprints. I had to hack the system to reset the fingerprints. Sooo.. does any of you know how to drive an aircraft?”

“Wait, you don’t know? Isn’t all of this YOUR plan?” Maki asks.

“Uh yea. I know how to drive one of these things. But I just saved your asses. I think it’s time I get a break.”

“...Fine. I’ll do it.” Maki says with a sigh.

“Great! Put your fingers on that thing!” Kokichi announces, pointing to a small circle near the steering wheel. Putting her fingers on it, a robotic voice announces;

“Fingerprints detected. Allowing access to steer the ship.”

“Alright, where am I taking this thing?”

“Here.” Kokichi says, pulling up a map on the computer, inputting an area, and setting it to give directions.

“Alright. Lets go.” Maki sighs, grabbing the steering wheel, allowing the computer to give her directions on where to go.

-

When Kaito saw Kokichi sneaking up behind Junko, he felt his heart skip a beat. At first he felt anxious, scared that Kokichi was going to shoot one of them. But then he realized something when he pointed that gun at Junko.

He was on their side the entire time.

Suddenly, so much made sense. From the multiple encounters he had with Kokichi, he said many cryptic things. But now, seeing this, he realized their meaning.

He was alluding to his plan, and how he was going to betray Junko.

So, without another thought, he followed Kokichi.

Why did his heart skip a beat when he realized this?

And now, looking at the smaller boy sitting in the corner with his eyes closed, though not really sleeping, he saw him in a new light. And why is Kaito’s heart beating so fast?

“Uuh Kaito? Can you stop staring? Its kinda creeping me out.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Kaito says, quickly turning his head away.

“Neeheehee.” Kokichi says. Despite trying his best to make it not seem like he’s tired, Kaito could tell that he was. Scooting up to the smaller boy, he attempts to strike up a conversation.

“So, all this time, you were just playing Junko?”

“Yup!”

“And you were on our side the entire time?”

“Well I wouldn’t say I was on YOUR side. I was on MY side, which just happened to align with your side.”

“So about that conversation we were having before you ran off?”

“I told you. I’d tell you what I meant if you beat me, and you didn’t, sooo…”

“Ah come on, man!”

“What? You wanna fight? I still got my taser!”

“If either of you fight then I am turning this ship around.” Maki growls.

“Sorry Maki Roll.”

“Stop calling me Maki Roll.”

And the conversation started up again from there. Granted, Kokichi and Kaito DID get into an argument. Like pretty much every other encounter they’ve had. But whatever, it’s kind of expected at this point.

Eventually though, there was a knock at the door. Then another. Then a lot more.

“Huh. Guess she finally decided to show up.” Kokichi sighs, getting up and pulling out a small taser and a strange bomb. Walking over to a small trunk, he removes two strange hammers, handing them to Kaito.

“Who?” Shuichi asks.

“Monaca. She’s the technician of the group. She’s the person I was most concerned about.”

“What are these?” Kaito asks, looking strangely at the hammers.

“Electrohammers. Hit a touch, they can knock out any electronics. Monaca’s power comes from primarily from electronics, so these will be useful. And these.” Kaito says, holding up the bombs. “Are electrobombs. They block out electromagnetic waves.”

“Ah. So we’re going to have to fight robots?” Shuichi asks, grabbing a hammer.

“Most likely. Maki, don’t stop steering. No matter what.”

“I can’t promise anything.” Maki sighs.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” Kokichi says, holding up the taser, facing the door just as it opens. Just outside the door, Kaito could see a little girl with green hair.

“Huh? You technician, and the one you were most worried about, was a little girl?” Kaito asks incredulously.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover. I’m pretty fearsome.” Monaca says with her creepy smile. “You did so well, getting to this point. It took us a while to realize that you incapacitated Big Sis Junko and that you were here.”

“Nishishi. Glad you’re proud of me.” Kokichi says, putting his hand behind his head.

“Too bad that all that work was for nothing. You are a traitor, and I will not let you get in the way of Big Sis Junko’s plan.” And with that, 5 robots appeared behind Monaca. “Have fun.” Monaca says in a sing song voice, stepping behind the robots.

“Okay, the electrohammers will only be able to knock out one of exisals. There are 6 inside the trunk. I’m going to go for Monaca.” Kokichi whispers to the two boys. “Lets go.” And with that, the three of the charged.

Kaito immediately went for the exisal closest to him, a yellow one. They didn’t seem to expect this, and Kaito managed to get a clear hit on the exisal’s leg. With a sputter, the robot slumped to the ground. While he didn’t see it, Kaito felt Kokichi run past him, and past the exisal. Next to him, Kaito saw Shuichi knock out a pink one.

“Good job Shuichi! That’s my sidekick!” Kaito called with a thumbs up.

“Hey knuckleheads! Focus on the robots instead of your bromance!” Kokichi shouts, nearly dodging an arm of a red exisal swinging at him.

“Kokichi!” Kaito yells, running inside the control room. Throwing his used electrohammer, he grabs two more, Shuichi grabbing one, and runs back out. Charging at the red exisal harassing Kokichi, he swings at it, knocking that one out. He could hear Shuichi knocking out an exisal behind him. “You alright?”

“Yea, thanks.” Kokichi says without thinking, charging after Monaca, who ran away. Quickly taking out the last exisal, Kaito chases after Kokichi, throwing his two electrohammers in a random direction again.

“Stay with Maki! I’m going to help Kokichi!” Kaito yells to Shuichi as he runs. He didn’t wait for a response. Despite trying his best though, Kaito wasn’t able to keep up with Kokichi. Soon enough, he lost track of him.

Skidding to a stop, Kaito has only one thing to say. “Shit.”

Without another thought, Kaito starts running again, this time following his gut. And it seemed like his gut was right, as he soon heard a loud bang and a scream.

“Kokichi!” Kaito yells, running to where he heard the scream. Quickly, he throws the door open, and sees a simple room. Kokichi was kneeling, holding an area in his stomach, with Monaca standing over him, a gun in her hand.

Without another thought, Kaito rushes Monaca, pulling the gun out of her hand, and shoving her away from Kokichi.

“Stay away from him, you brat!” Kaito yells, standing in between the two of them.

“Kaito…” Kokichi says weakly, before Kaito heard a small thud from behind him.

“Kokichi!”

“You’re too late. Kokichi is going to die.” Monaca says cheerfully.

“Fuck you!”

“That’s a harsh thing to say to a kid.”

“I don’t care! Just come here, you brat!” Kaito yells, rushing at Monaca again, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Let go of me!” Monaca cries, kicking and screaming. Not affected by the weak kicks and punches from the 8-something or other year old, Kaito gently picks up a knocked out Kokichi, rushing back to the control room.

“Shuichi! Help me!” He says as soon as he gets there. Upon seeing the heavily bleeding Kokichi, Shuichi gets to work, attempting to slow the bleeding. Kaito puts the still screaming Monaca in the corner, blocking the doorway.

From there, Kaito was mostly in a daze. Before he knew it, the ship landed and police rushed inside. They put Kokichi in an ambulance, and he was rushed to the nearest hospital. And before he knew it, Kaito was passed out at the side of Kokichi’s bed, head resting on the side of his bed.

-

“Ngh..” Kokichi groans tiredly. He couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t see anything. And he was too tired to process anything. It felt like forever where he laid there, nothing happened, before he slowly opened his eyes. It was blurry at first. Okay, for a while. But soon enough, he got his vision back. He got his senses back. And he could finally feel stuff. He felt something in his arm. He felt warmth from the blanket. Soon enough, Kokichi realized he was in a hospital.

It took him a bit, but soon he remembered what sent him into the hospital in the first place.

“Kaito…” Kokichi whispers, too tired to be any louder. His voice was cracky, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time. Which was likely.

...How did he survive?

Managing to look around, he saw Kaito, sitting on the side of his bed, head on said bed, sleeping. He looked so peaceful.

Kokichi could feel his heart flutter. And this time, he was too tired to bury it. His box labeled “repression” burst open. Kokichi couldn’t help himself after that. Despite being tired, he slowly and shakily raised a hand to Kaito’s face with a tired smile.

When Kaito stirred slightly from the touch, Kokichi’s hand gave out. He started drifting off to sleep again. But Kokichi had one last thought before sleep consumed him again.

That he loved Kaito, and since Kaito was the one worriedly by his side when he was hurt, he likely did as well.

[teamfreewill-imagine]

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Twenty-Three

Summary: An unwanted visitor in Austin turns your great mood on it’s head, forcing you to remember your past. Jared x Reader x Gen, Tom, Shep, Jensen, Danneel, JJ, OFC Words: 3k Warnings: angst, physical violence, aggressive confrontations, possibly triggering flashback Beta: @blacksiren

I Know Your Wife - Masterpost

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Your day with the boys and Arlo had gone surprisingly well.

Tom and Shep were happy to chat away all day, talking to you about school and asking questions about the baby.

It was great to get to know them a little bit better on your own and, by the time you were walking to drop them off, you felt a lot closer to your baby’s brothers.

As you turned onto Jensen’s road, your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw a familiar car parked down the street.

One look at the driver and your good mood vanished.

You got to the driveway of the Ackles house and crouched down in front of the boys, handing Arlo’s leash to Tom.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, sensing your change in demeanour.

“We’re okay,” you smiled, trying not to freak them out. “Can you go inside and get Uncle Jay to come out please? And ask Auntie Dee to call Daddy?”

They nodded, Shep frowning at you.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you promised. “But I need you to take Arlo and stay inside with Tex and the twins, okay?”

Tom threw his arms around you, keeping Arlo’s leash firmly in his hand.

You brought Shep into the hug, kissing both of their cheeks.

“Get Uncle Jay, please,” you murmured again as you pulled back, ushering them in the direction of the house as you heard the car door slam closed.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you turned to see your mother walking towards you.

You crossed your arms over your bump, wishing that your unborn child didn’t have to deal with this.

“How did you find me?” you asked, once she was close enough to hear you.

“You’re my daughter,” she replied, venom dripping from the statement, “I always know where you are.”

You shivered at the thought of her keeping track of you wherever you went, suddenly feeling even more unsafe around her.

“Wha-” you paused, clearing your throat as you heard your voice crack, “What did you come here for?”

“You fucking know,” she spat. “Your little adoption stunt.”

“It’s not a stunt,” you told her, firmly. “They’re my family now.”

She scoffed, taking a step closer.

“It’s not Ackles blood that runs through your veins, sweetheart,” she growled. “Your real family is standing right in front of you.”

“You’ve obviously not seen my show,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes. “Family doesn’t start with blood.”

“Family doesn’t start with an affair and adopting the pregnant side-whore, either,” she argued, and you went to respond until you heard footsteps behind you.

Jensen appeared beside you, frowning as he looked between you and your mom.

“What’s going on, kiddo?” he asked, and you swallowed.

“Nothing, just-”

“I’ve just come to talk to my daughter,” your mom informed him. “So if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Your- fuck,” Jensen hissed, stepping in front of you slightly when he realised who this woman was, “She’s not your daughter.”

Your mother scoffed, ignoring Jensen and keeping her full attention on you.

“You can’t even fight your own battles,” she sneered. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“I’m disappointed in you.”

You swallowed thickly, the words stinging even though you knew that you weren’t going to get a positive response.

“Mom, I-”

“Don’t,” she spat, throwing the letter at you.

You’d known about your scholarship for a couple of months now.

You were leaving soon and it was now or never, so you'd left the letter open on your nightstand knowing that she would find and read it.

“I can't believe you'd accept something like this without even talking to me,” she seethed, and you flinched as she grabbed your arm, pulling you closer. “How do you think you're gonna get by, huh?”

She was so close that you could feel her breath on your face as she spoke, her fingers digging into your forearm.

“I have a scholarship,” you tried, and she scoffed.

“Yeah, tuition and board,” she recited. “How are you gonna eat, huh? Did you think about that with that smart little brain of yours?”

She was making you angry, deliberately pushing your buttons, and you knew it.

“I can get a job,” you stated, calmly.

“As what? A cheap slut?” she hissed. “What are you gonna do, charge the old men of Los Angeles to fuck you like the whore you are?”

“At least they'd be paying me for it,” you spat back, completely losing your composure now that you'd given up scrambling after it, “And not just taking.”

Your tone earned you a slap across the face, but you were expecting it so it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

“And what happens when it all goes tits up again, hmm?” she asked, her voice low and intimidating. “Your little situation would've been a whole lot different if I wasn't there to help you out.”

You couldn't believe your ears.

That was far worse than a punch to the gut.

“Help me out?” you breathed, stepping back as best you could as you felt your anger rise. “Help me out?! You think what you did was ‘helping me out’?”

“Of course it was,” she laughed bitterly. “Y/N, you wouldn't have coped-”

“You don't fucking know that!” you shouted, steeling yourself ready for another blow. “You can't know whether I’d have coped or not because you took that chance away from me!”

The punch to your jaw didn't surprise you so you continued your tirade through the pain, knowing it was your last chance to get out these repressed emotions.

“Well you can't take anything else from me,” you reminded her, “Because I’m going and I won't look back. If I never set foot in Oklahoma again, I’ll live a happy life.”

You saw the exact moment she completely lost it, any remaining dregs of humanity leaving her eyes until she was all rage and resentment.

She tackled you to the ground and you let her, forever unwilling to raise a hand to her and knowing that this was the last time she'd be able to do this to you.

She couldn't hurt you in California.

“You ungrateful bitch,” she seethed, punctuating each word with another blow. “I gave up everything for you.”

“Nobody asked you to,” you told her, feeling your jaw begin to bruise already. “If you were gonna resent me so much, why didn't you… why didn't you ‘help’ yourself out?”

Her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching as she leaned over you, her hands fisted in your shirt.

“I wish I had.”

“Disapp- how can you say that?” Jensen asked, surprise and disbelief evident in his tone. “You should be proud of her.”

“Jen, don’t,” you murmured, but he shook his head.

“It’s bullshit,” he argued, your mom folding her arms in response. “You’ve made something out of nothing. You have a career, a family-”

“She denied herself a family the second she accepted that scholarship,” your mom spat. “Now she’s just using you for what you have. Your status can protect her and that’s all she cares about. She’s just looking out for number one. She’ll drop you like she dropped me the second she finds something better.”

Jensen tensed, and you rested a hand on his arm as you stepped past him, towards your mother.

“Y/N-”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, squeezing his bicep in reassurance as you stood in front of your mom.

“Little Ditto, finally finding her voice,” she sneered, and you clenched your jaw.

“You’re not allowed to call me that.”

“I can call you whatever I want,” she told you. “I’m your mother.”

“You keep saying that, but you’re really not,” you shrugged, your arms crossed defensively. “You’re not my mother anymore. You never were.”

“I brought you into this world, you ungrateful-”

“Yeah, and I used to wish you didn’t,” you interrupted bluntly, her raised hand being stopped in its journey to your cheek as Jensen reached around you to grab her wrist in time.

You were just going to take it.

You’d taken worse.

“Do not raise a hand to her,” Jensen stated firmly, throwing her wrist back at her but remaining behind you, letting you face her on your own.

He’d been your father for a month and he already knew what you needed better than your mom ever did.

“The only thing I should be thankful to you for is showing me how not to be a mom,” you continued, calmly. “I will not make the mistakes you made with this baby. I won’t resent my child for coming into my life. I will be nothing but nurturing and loving and I’ll raise this baby with the strongest family around me. The family that I chose.”

Jared’s car rounded the corner and you instantly felt stronger, braver; knowing that you had two men that loved and supported you by your side.

“You called in the fucking giant to intimidate me?” your mom asked, and you shook your head.

“We called in the other part of my family to make sure you got the hint,” you told her as Jared parked on Jensen’s driveway, getting out of the car and jogging over to you.

He wanted to ask what was going on, but Jensen held a hand up to stop him, letting you continue.

“I don’t care if you’re disappointed in me,” you told your mom as Jared’s hand gently squeezed your shoulder in support before dropping to his side and leaving you to it. “I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care what you think of my life, my family. I don’t-”

You stopped yourself as you laughed slightly, realising that you weren’t scared of her anymore.

“I don’t need your pride,” you told her, shaking your head. “I used to want you to be proud of me. I used to want you to turn around and apologise, thinking that maybe we could reconcile whatever relationship we had, but now I don’t want that. I don’t want a relationship with you. I don’t want you to be proud of me. I don’t want anything from you.”

“You don’t know what you want,” she dismissed, and you shrugged again.

“I know that I don’t want you anywhere near me or the people I love,” you explained, taking a step closer and dropping your voice to a tone you’d never dared to use around her before. “I want you to leave me the fuck alone so I can live my new life in peace.”

She opened her mouth to respond but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“We’re done here,” you told her, nodding to her car. “Enjoy your journey back to Empire City. I hope this little chat was worth the six hour drive.”

Jensen stepped around you, ushering your mom towards her car, undoubtedly telling her to stay the fuck away from you in the future.

You turned to face Jared, smiling awkwardly up at him.

“Sorry,” you murmured, “For pulling you away from Gen. Ruining your birthday.”

“Don’t- fuck,” he breathed, cupping your face in his palms and kissing your forehead before pulling you into a hug. “Don’t be. Are you okay?”

You pulled back, biting your lip as you felt yourself start to smile.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I… I think I am. I did it.”

“Hell yeah, you did,” he grinned, ruffling your hair as Jensen came back over.

“Good job, kiddo,” he praised, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You leant into him, taking a moment to calm down as your mom’s car started down the road.

“Can we go inside?” you asked, and they both nodded, Jared’s arm wrapping around you from the other side as the three of you made your way down the driveway.

“For what it’s worth,” Jensen mumbled, and you looked up at him, “I’m proud of you.”

You smiled as Jared stepped ahead, holding the door open for the two of you.

“Do you mind if I go and see the boys?” you asked once you were inside. “I think I freaked them out a little bit.”

“Of course,” Jensen smiled, squeezing your hand before Jared pulled you into another hug.

“I’ll call Gen,” he told you, leaning down to kiss you, “Ask her to come over.”

“You can go back to her if you want,” you offered, but he shook his head.

“You need to be with your family,” he smiled softly. “Your whole family.”

You nodded, kissing him again before walking further into the house in search of Tom and Shep.

zThe boys were in the playroom with JJ and, as soon as you entered the room, they dropped what they were doing to hug you.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you told them, JJ watching on with a frown. “Everything is alright.”

“We got Uncle Jay,” Tom told you once they’d pulled back, and you crouched down to cup both of their cheeks.

“You did great,” you smiled kindly. “You got Auntie Dee to call Daddy like I asked. You did such a good job, boys. Thank you so much.”

“Mhm,” Shep nodded, stepping in to hug you again.

You ruffled Tom’s hair as he went back to JJ before wrapping your arms around Shep, kissing the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” you mumbled and he nodded, kissing your cheek as he pulled back.

“Glad you’re ‘kay,” he told you, and you nodded.

“I’m good,” you promised. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he told you, going to join his brother.

JJ was still watching you, so you beckoned her over.

She walked over warily, completely unsure what was going on.

“Hey,” you smiled, and she smiled back.

“Hey. Are you good?”

“Yeah, baby,” you promised, sitting on the floor once crouching became uncomfortably, pulling her onto your lap. “I just had to deal with some stuff.”

“What kinda stuff?” she asked, her finger twirling in your hair by your shoulder.

“My birth mom,” you admitted, and she frowned.

“Like from the airport?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “She didn’t hurt anyone though. Just made me remember some things.”

She didn’t respond, waiting for you to continue.

You had one hand rested on her side as the thumb of the other absently stroked over your bump.

For a minute, looking into this little girl’s open, honest, judgement-free eyes, you felt like telling her everything.

All of the things that nobody knew, the things that you’d been carrying since you were fourteen, nearly came to the surface.

But you couldn’t do that to her. You couldn’t taint her childhood with your own messed-up memories.

“It’s not important, princess,” you told her, smiling sadly. “I’m okay now, and she’s gone.”

JJ nodded, hugging you as best she could from her position in your lap.

“I love you so much, baby girl,” you murmured, closing your eyes.

“Love you more,” she replied, pulling back and holding your face, looking into your eyes. “I got you, Ditto.”

Your heart swelled with love, a physical feeling inside your chest.

“And I got you, Texas,” you agreed, kissing her as she pursed her lips. “Alright, go play.”

She smiled, getting up and going back to the boys.

It was only then that you realised you were sat on the floor, a bump in the way and no furniture near enough to help you up.

You rocked back slightly, trying - and failing - to use momentum to get you to your feet.

“Need a hand?” Danneel asked, and you turned your head to see her in the doorway.

“Please,” you laughed softly as she came in, helping you to your feet.

Once you were up, you noticed tear stains on her cheeks.

“Dan,” you breathed, “What-?”

“Jensen told me what happened,” she told you, quietly. “We’re getting a restraining order. That woman won’t be allowed in your proximity, or around any of our family.”

“That’s… that’s not necessary,” you murmured, and she shook her head.

“What if she’d found you while you were out with the boys?” she asked, and you swallowed, realising how much worst that would have been.

You wouldn’t have been able to protect them from her, they would have heard all of the mean things she said to you, all the bad language and horrible names.

“Jensen is talking to our lawyer right now,” she admitted. “She knows where we live… We can’t have her near our kids.”

You nodded, looking over at JJ as she continued to play with Tom and Shep, blissfully unaware of the severity of what happened.

“I’m so sorry,” you told her, and she shook her head.

“‘Our kids’ includes you, my girl,” she smiled softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. “Gotta look after all of us.”

You smiled, leaning into her half-embrace.

“I’m still sorry,” you mumbled. “For all of it.”

“I think it’s made us stronger,” she mused, looking at you, “Our little family. She’s done the opposite of what she wanted.”

You smiled as there was a knock at the door, pulling back and sniffing.

“Think we should let in your girlfriend?” Danneel asked, and you laughed slightly as you made your way out of the playroom.

“I think I owe her big time for taking her husband away during their day of birthday sex,” you admitted, and she laughed, nodding.

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to them.”

You pulled a face, pushing her away teasingly.

“Don’t be gross,” you accused, the familiar conversation making you feel more at ease. “I’ll make them dinner or something. That was always the plan.”

“Well, you’re staying here tonight so you'd be cooking for everyone,” she announced, and you raised an eyebrow.

“We are?” you asked, making her laugh softly.

“Sweetheart, Jay isn't gonna let you out of his sight until y'all move to Vancouver,” she informed you as you reached the door, Gen’s knock coming through once more. “You’re all staying.”

tags are closed because this always takes me 20 years

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[nighttimeavastime]

You want to play dirty? I can play dirty.

Trembling hands steadied the balance that brought the psychic to the ground. It had been confirmed that death by collision wasn't the cause for all of this, but there were still very few answers to the question at hand. "Let me break it down for you really quick, since you seem to be completely losing it." Apparently this clone of Avarie had an attitude and couldn't bother to offer any sympathy. Bending down, the girl rolled her eyes before speaking. "You see, I'm you. But you already know that. What you don't know is that we're connected." A perfectly manicured finger reached out and touched at the center of Avarie's forehead. The tone in the girls voice was as if this was clear as day, but the confusion and fear was preventing any common understanding. "You've acquired a lot of repressed memories and emotions babe, and I'm a result of that." She stood up, towering over in a dominant stance before allowing her hands to pan down her body. "But, I'm the better version of you, clearly."  Still in disbelief of this reality, hazel eyes shut out the view of this delusion. A snap drew the girl back into reality, the look of annoyance growing on the other girl with each passing second. "Don't be a brat Ava, I'm trying to dumb this shit down for you, okay?"

Running her fingers along the labels of the shelf, she continued only after knowing she had the complete attention of the audience at hand. "So, here's the deal. I'm sick of you ruining my reputation. You're really dragging me down." She didn't bother to acknowledge the scowl that was spreading across Avarie's face. "I have daddy issues, I'm so tired, why won't anyone pay attention to me? Blah blah blah." A slightly whining tone completely the unwanted imitation. "Now I'm sure you're thinking, Avarie, why is a compound of all of the ways I've failed in life manifesting at this point and time? Well, to be honest, I had to get you here to let you in on the information that, I'm officially taking over. I know, it's a bummer, but I just couldn't take you messing up my life any further." Balancing back down with the points of her heels in a perfect line, a feigned look of sympathy was exchanged before those perfectly painted nails were gripping at Avarie's throat.

Blood soaked feet slipped across the floor, digging the shards of glass in even further at the attempt of resistance. The bored and self absorbed atmosphere evaporated and now a feeling of power and malicious intent filled the air. With amplified vision Avarie looked around and noticed a diamond ring sitting atop the hands that were choking her. Considering the circumstances at hand, she couldn't help but wonder what version of reality that this clone was living that was considered better. Did she reside in the obedient and submission universe? The one where the visions were repressed with medication, which never lead to the fights? And, oddly more important, who the hell was she married to and why did she want to reside in this universe? Grime and dirt covered the corner store they were fighting in, just a small piece of evidence to how much of a disappointment this life was. She was too spoiled and frail to be placed in a world like this and Avarie was not about to trapped in some backwards reality without putting up a fight.

A row of first aid boxes were lining the bottom shelf, and without a second of hesitation Avarie gripped the handle of the closest within reach and swung it up in the air. Finally the air flow was coming back in desperate gasps. "Oh my god, you stupid bitch!" The mirror of herself sat back, hands rushing to see if there was a single mark on her otherwise perfect face. While the other girl was fixated on the pain and anger, Avarie was trying to think of her next move. Depleted of energy, there was no way to try and hide in the store. Besides, the glass in her feet would leave a trail of blood even if the adrenaline from the situation provided enough strength to limp away. The lights of the store began to flicker once the now pissed off version of Avarie stood up. With a groan, nearly numb feet pushing against the floor along with the support from her hands. She was crawling backwards, trying to create distance and provide enough time to think of the next move.

"I swear, I should have made that car accident more serious. Then I wouldn't have to waste my time with all of this!" Sharp heels nearly stomped on the ground in a child like fashion as the space in between them was closed. Rolling onto her stomach, Avarie tried a new tactic at escaping only to have the traction stopped by the strands of her hair being yanked in the opposite direction. "If you want to play dirty, I can play dirty." The bottom of the patent leather shoe pressed firmly into her spine; she was nothing more than a cockroach under this girls shoe, paralyzed without a way out. With the advantage of the fight the other version of Avarie got down on her knees again, winding her fingers through the auburn hair that mimicked her own. The tips of her fingers gripped tightly, waiting for the opportune moment to simply beat Avarie's face into the ground until there wasn't a breathe left to gasp. But, with her confidence came too much leeway in the amount of pressure being applied to the rest of her frame. Inhaling a deep breath, Avarie pushed off the ground with what little strength and determination remained, causing the other girl to take a nasty spill backwards.

With a soft whimper she continued to crawl towards the end of the aisle, but at a quicker pace. The last three rows contained the sleep aids and pain relievers. No dialogue was exchanged between the two girls this time. Instead, a glass shattering shriek filled the store as the lights began to flicker again. Now the once high and mighty woman was reduced to having a temper tantrum due to not having her way. Well aware that time was of the essence, Avarie took to her feet to reach a bottle of sleeping pills. The shelf only provided so much support as her knees shook and threatened to buckle. When she turned around to face the other girl, an amused glance replaced the irritated scowl so quickly it sent a chill down her spine. "What? You think you call kill me with sleeping pills? Use your brain Ava." An exhausted laugh left her lips as she pulled off the first layer of protective sealing, noticing it stopped the other girl from moving. "No, but you said we're connected right?" A rhetorical question that didn't require an answer, despite how obvious it was that the other Avarie wanted to throw in a few insults for the sake of it.

"You wouldn't dare."