#IT WAS RUSSIAN ROULETTE AND BROTHER SOMETIMES YOU LOST

[tiskycat]

You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

[hoodedwing]

Loyalty Killed Me

Summary: The Joker could finally do what he wanted to do, traumatize Nightwing

Characters: Nightwing. Harley Quinn. Joker. Mentions of Red Hood

Warnings: Just really sick ways of stitching people up. Blood. Depressive. Major character/s death mentions. Batman. Doctor Leslie Thompkins

Additional Notes: I know Joker cannot traumatize Grayson canon-wise? Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Word Count: 2,242 words

***

Time doesn't stop.

Time knows, in its hands. It plays around with the seconds. These seconds matter, someone dying, someone on the communicator whispering, ____ come get me. come get me, I can't go back.

Time doesn't freeze. Time does not have a cloak drapes around it in a timeless manner. Time does not walk in a regal manner and stroke your gaping wounds to cauterize them. Apply pressure because really, when did Time wait for you to stop the damned arterial spray? Have you seen first hand how much blood can spew, almost like a fountain from that serrated dagger?

Time has caught up with Dick Grayson, the Wonder Boy. The Nightwing Blüdhaven didn't deserve. The loving boyfriend/husband of Barbara Gordon. The first son of Bruce Wayne, Batman.

Batman. He doesn't know who's Batman. Not anymore.

-

3200..6400..12800..

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Remember, inhale slowly, inflate lungs. Let it circulate through. Let. Let it work.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters.

Pain.

Pain is relative. If you fuck with pain long enough, it won't fuck back with you. Pain spreads through him and he inhales deep, bigger breaths. Trying to drown out the searing ache. He succeeds, deceives his brain.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He knows how to lie, how to smile widely at the Blüdhaven precinct when shit goes down or still tell a joke or two when Damian is there.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He's a good man. Honest to goodness. He's fooled himself into thinking his left leg didn't feel on fire, he's successfully managed to stop gasping against the rattle of his chest, a rub or two might be the cause. Who knows?

BOY WONDER! SAD YOUR DEAREST BATMAN HASN'T COME TO SAVE YOU YET? WHY LOOK AT THAT.

Mistah J checks his watch and smiles, his crooked smile stares back at Richard.

Dick only looks away as the Joker's cold fingers run his slimy, skinny fingers along his body. He used to shiver under his touch in a bad way, he would gulp and squeeze his eyes shut, hunting for memories to dive into.

When he got Zitka. When his mother named him her Robin. When he went on patrol for the first time with the all mighty Batman. When he first met Jason. Then Tim. Then Damian. Then the nights they spent healing wounds, fighting together or just sleeping or Netflix.

Dick doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He doesn't even let out a humourless laugh or a quip. Dick clings onto a hope.

Batman. Come get me.

BOY WONDER IS STILL LIVING. WHY, THAT'S A JOY. COME OUT THERE LITTLE BLUE BIRD. YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STAY IN THAT LITTLE BRAIN OF YOURS? WHEN YOU WAKE UP. THAT LEG WILL HURT. YOUR BLOOD WILL SPILL AGAIN ON THAT DARNED LITTLE CREST.

He doesn't care. The glorious speech does not make him flinch. He looks at the window, one thought crosses his cloudy vision.

Bruce (Dad), come get me.

LET'S HAVE SOME MORE FUN, SHALL WE. EVEN JAYBIRD PLAYED THIS GAME TOO. COME ON, HE HAD FUN. LET'S PLAY BLUE BIRD. BLUE JAY. HMM. I LIKE THAT.

-

Playtime.

Its always target practice. He would lie there and watch Harley swing her mallet here and there, sometimes too close to Dick and she would talk to him, so sweetly.

Aww, you wanna play too? Let's play together, shall we?

His face will clench up, his head will scream and suddenly everything is loud as Harley fires guns at targets and maybe shoot some arrows at Dick.

On lucky days, he's used as her gymnast prop.

I want to fly again. Batman I'm falling, please I'd like to fly again. My wings are clipping and I will rip. -

He falls asleep.

You can't call it sleeping. Dozing in and out of consciousness, he was neither awake or sleeping. A grey haze flittered across his vision. No sign of clarity. He still heard the rattle of his breath, the fire in his leg. The now warm abdomen.

He feels someone at his leg.

Harley Quinn was there, a sly smile as he feels a needle go in and out.

In and out. In and out.

In and out, in and out. You need to breathe Dick. In and out. In and out.

When he hears the door shut and a ricocheting silence, he peeks at his leg.

A sick suturing of his leg stabs with dental floss, a handiwork Harley was sure to boast later on. He doesn't care if it gets infected. What's the big deal? Batman will take care of it.

He turns over on his side to his communicator lay. The Nightwing emblem was shattered beyond measure. No matter, I can get a new one. The communication mattered.

He presses the distress signal again, again. Again. Bruce better get that flashing orange light and he should feel his bipolar touch in no time.

He tries to talk, voice hoarse from decreased usage and a rough sandpaper-like quality stuck to it.

"H..hello? Bruce. Dad. Please get me. I'm.. I'm waiting. Please."

He turns back in his side, curled up like an invited animal.

The rain pours, shadows keep coming in and out but none belong to his dad.

The boy asks the moon if Batman had lost his way. Asked if the moon could shine the light brighter at him so Dad can find him faster. He'll be okay, he'll be okay. Bruce might be lost, after all. There's a lot of streets and time isn't on anyone's side.

-

Two weeks go by.

Dick still finds himself bound by the ties and definitely no sign of the caped crusader.

Batman is surely coming.

That thought fades slowly, over the weeks. He's gotten more used to the Joker and the crowbar.

Is this how Jason felt, when he was in Hell?

Dick cannot remember. Dick only knows how the sound of metal and bones work, how the bullet will hit skin, pierce it through with frightening velocity and dull ache afterwards. The pool of blood will remind him that yes, I was shot.

A sick game of Russian Roulette. Instead of one bullet, there's multiple. A .44 magnum shouldn't hurt anymore. The revolver keeps spinning in his mind where acrobats should be. Where's Bruce. Where's dad. Am I forgotten?

Dick tried to remember how to breathe. Is it that hard? Just pulling in oxygen and letting the respiration mechanism do its work?

Distract thine self.

He tries to remember. Tries. He's trying. Nightwing has to do this. You need to at least remember your name. Your mother, your father. Dick. Dick.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful but I don't know what her hair colour is, sometimes it's blonde or chestnut and your father was handsome.  You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters. Are they Jason? Tim? Da- I don't remember, I don't remember the tiny one. Is he even real? Your sisters too. Stephanie, Stephanie. I have one more, the sneaky one. She's fast but I don't know her name. I'd like to know her well too. Pity I. I don't know her name. I hope she knows my name. That way I can hear her voice and maybe figure out who is the charming one. I know she does ballet. I know she made brownies once with.. Who? I don't remember his name. The old man with cheery wrinkles and deep eyes. I don't know who he is too. Oh. Oh oh. Dick.

[DANGEROUS TO FALL ASLEEP, RICHARD JOHN 'DICK' GRAYSON. EYES. OPEN. EYES. OPEN. BREATHE. (MY LUNGS DON'T WORK)]

I'm begging someone, please. It doesn't have to be Bruce. Get the ballet girl to help me please, she fast and maybe I can ask her name while she gets me out of here.

-

Bruce never gives up.

You know that too, do you? He's spent 3 weeks finding his son. His beloved child.

Do you ever think how much Bruce's heart breaks over and over everyday?

-

"ALFRED?! CAN YOU GET JASON NOW, NOW, NOW?! I FIGURED HIS COORDINATES."

Bruce flips from the Batcomputer and grabs everything. A blind haste, he's never dressed so fast. His son. Oh my god, his son.

Jason is down there getting the Batmobile to rev up and they speed.

They speed.

Are they fast?

I guess. If you call 290 in 85 fast.

They run, Jason dashing first and his breath catches in his throat. A cold draught erupts inside of him. He snarls, Bruce turns as he digs through the alleyways. He finds what he knows lurks.

"The sick fucker is going to end Dick in the same fucking warehouse he ended me in. That big bitch.

Bruce puts one hand on his shoulder and squeezes. No time to panic, Dick is the one. is the unsaid message as Jason crashes through the window.

And even him, Red Hood. The one who sees and commits murder everyday, stops and hot anger sears through him.

Dick lies, barely 15 feet away, bound up and covered in his own blood, the ripped Nightwing suit from his recon mission. Bruce picks him up while Jason gladly punched (and secretly plugged a bullet) the fuck out of Mistah J and Harley.

They lie on unconscious, Jason evaluates the scenes, trying to suppress his screams at what they've done to Grayson.

Bruce picks up Dick like he's glass, he hurries to the Batmobile with Jason telling to prepare the Medbay.

"The Medbay.. I.. I don't think. Leslie. Leslie can."

Is all Bruce says and Jason revs up, driving the Batmobile way beyond the legal limit. Bruce doesn't give a flying banana about it. He'll pay the fine later.

Bruce looks down at his son, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet. Finally, finally Dick is in the arms of the crusader. Half his domino mask is ripped and Bruce tries to not break at the baby blues staring without any light-hearted gaze.

His heart still beats (A reminder he's alive and could've been more alive. Bruce failed him)

"LESLIE. DR THOMPKINS!"

Jason screeches across and marching in, earning angry stares  from the other patients but it turns into gasps and horror when they see Batman carry a limp Nightwing barely clad in spandex anymore. Everyone bows out, knowing they were priority.

-

Something inside Dick broke.

He doesn't know what it is.

He'll live with it.

-

"Bruce, he's fallen into a coma."

Leslie says, solemn. Angry tears form in Jason's eye and he was about to fight Bruce, give him the tirade. Compare him to Nightwing.

The unspoken message rings loudly in Bruce's mind. He doesn't need Jason to say it.

You failed him too.

Jason is seething, anger. Sadness a d everything is violating him from inside.

If you were a minute later, he would've died. We would've been carrying his body to the grave. The Joker would still live. You see the problem? DO YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

Bruce sits beside Dick, his pulse like a fluttering butterfly. He grasps his hand in Duck's fragile one and prays.

Prays that he wakes up.

-

Dick is on a life support machine now.

I guess the ventilator couldn't keep him up. All good boys do die. If not, maybe a part of them broke.

Dick is no exception.

-

Alfred squeezes Bruce's hand. Jason sits so quietly beside him alongside the rest of the family.

Its April 27th. Jason was taken this day.

They don't say a word, neither does Red Hood, he just wants the baby blue eyes to open again.

He cries.

-

Five months have gone by and he stirs slowly.

He's barely moving and Jason shoots up and looks, squeezes Dick's hand again.

Baby blues meet emerald green.

Jason dashes for Leslie. She comes and shoos everyone out.

Jason is fucking glad. Dick is alive.

-

Bruce is disappointed.

He cannot bring himself to meet Dick who's currently in the ward under observation. He's failed Dick. He knows it.

He enters, heavy hearted. Dick is smiling at everyone but Bruce can see it, the hard lines. The sunshine doesn't reach the baby blues. He thinks they've turned into aquamarine, a shade tad too dark. I guess, that's what trauma does to people.

Dick smiles at Bruce, he feels the tension and Dick pats the chair beside him where Jason was sleeping. Bruce softly sits, he has no heart to wake Jason up.

Dick is alive. Dick is alive.

Bruce places one hand on Grayson's one, it feels much more warmer and his pulse is beating normally.

And he breaks.

He cries, tears steaming down his cheeks. An ugly sound escapes his throat. Bruce gasps in air and exhales shakily. Dick watches, silent.

Is this how you felt when I was in Hell?

Dick doesn't touch Bruce, doesn't say its okay and I'm alive. He stares dead into Bruce.

I cannot forgive.

Dick sits quietly, he doesn't have to say it. Loyalty does kill you in the end if you step on all the wrong pieces of glass.

That's when you find yourself falling from the trapeze line, you find yourself swirling again in the memories you wish you could lock.

Loyalty in the end, is your demise.

[mantrabay]

Saturday an overarching day that's both conduit and shelter for souls in transition.

Thoughts of the more disturbing kind and their covert operations intrude even in our leisure time.

Little did I know what lay ahead.

All these scenarios flashed across my mind as the wheels of my car screeched to a halt.

Shafts of radiant sunlight revealed an embroidered placard.

A cryptic but apocryphal question -

Going somewhere?

Light green brush strokes and entwined leaves garnished the borders of this plaque.

A hitchhiker appeared with the most expressive eyes.

Like shining windows openly admitting the rush of a golden dawn.

A rippling nuanced voice spoke.

“Hello, I'm Lelia. Life is a series of stops

and strange encounters.

A journey of some kind.”

Thought-provoking stuff!

She extended her supple skin right hand.

“Hop in.

I'm Joshua King. Going anywhere in particular?"

I enquired archly after the ritual handshake.

"Besides going somewhere or nowhere in particular.”

I continued.

"In one sense I'm not sure. But there is this place we should all go to.

You'll know what I mean later.”

Lelia mysteriously.

"Not to worry.

Travel is therapy for me."

What made me, Joshua King , say that?

The mind can be overpopulated with figments.

Frustrated figments waiting for that freedom dash.

Some have the seeds of alternative visions.

A svelte lady wearing an azure blue padded jacket and sea blue denims glided gracefully into my car.

Hatha yoga asana entry.

My pinstripe attire seemed conventional.

It was at odds with this philosophical journey man.

"Love the aroma ....air freshener.

Orchard in a vehicle tantalising nostrils.

Symbol of attempted purge."

Her voice dropped a few keys to a lower register.

Redolent of metaphysics classes I had to abandon.

I was naive enough to believe that attending these courses would fix my “issues.”

They were more than just momentary bugs.

They couldn't be spray canned away.

I was, however, adept at avoiding their resolution.

Draft dodger or fugitive adept.

My “issues” were other "selves.”

I called them timid, anxious, fidgety,scrupulous withdrawn.

“What’s more I chat to them.

Under my breath. These chats I call the "whispers.”

Will Lelia notice?

Will she spot them?"

My twin brother Jonah, a twin in every sense could point out my tendency to flee.

We spot each other’s flaws with aplomb.

The twinning of tortured psyches.

Banter between mirror images of real selves!

Jonah was an integral part of these "whispers" too!

All these thoughts were doing hula hoops in my head as Lelia made herself comfortable.

In the process peculiarities surfaced which seemed more than the usual passing quirks.

"I'm Lelia, again. Don't forget. You probably won't.

This place I alluded to is but a distance from here.

Distance is a gulf whose magnitude is shaped by it's smoothness of passage.

Or the fate that awaits one at journey’s end.

My destination is another world altogether."

A lady who could structure her sentences with the adroitness of a cryptic crossword clue setter.

Tapping me on the shoulder at the most obscure angle she extended her hand again.

Her fingers and thumb spatially arranged with the tutored

stillness of a TM Guru.

Was that repetition a neurotic oddity or a symptom of a deeper malaise?

I nodded to the said hand gesture.

We both brushed this bizarre incident off as it had no instant moment.

It seemed as if I was talking to someone quite out of the ordinary.

The spot on asides and the strict avoidance of that verbal litter referred to as small talk suggested as much.

Pauses. They did surface periodically.

The silence was then punctuated by a sudden remark.

"All those conifers. Look at how they reach out to the sky.”

This was just the start of one of Lelia’s poetic observations.

“They seem so close yet isolated.

There is something almost within their grasp.

Almost.”

Lelia nonplussed.

“See the adjoining fields. The green is but a cover. They are as neighbours in a high rise flat.

One could say they are both connected and disconnected at the same time.

As for those dips in the valleys? Well, they could signify some sort of rise and fall."

Lelia resting her case momentarily.

“A resurrection. After the fall.

Oh the Lazarus within us all."

Joshua deadpanned.

“I'm a bit of a writer and maths researcher.”

I proffered.

"Recluses some say.

Oh, I didn't mean you

Necessarily.”

Ouch, said my shattered Id.

Lelia, archer of the scar inflicting verbal.

Bow and arrow baroness of stinging broadsides.

This offshoot to our conversation was infused with a wry allusion.

Insight on a whim. Fleeting.

We both laughed at the incongruity of a conversation that had become very elliptical in form.

Tangents cropped up as impetus to the other person's willingness to reveal themselves.

Lelia didn't exactly volunteer her vocation but left clues.

“You didn't say what you did?

Student ...essayist ...author."

Me sounding Lelia out.

“Oh no children….dashing right across the road in front of us.

Squealing with delight. Whoops of innocent joy? They are sticking out their tongues now!”

Hair-raising moment I hadn't anticipated.

I spied Lelia sticking her tongue out at those reckless varmints.

She stopped the minute I noticed.

“Children …….sometimes you have to act like a kid when dealing with kids."

Straight and to the point from this hitchhiker.

She now resumed the thread of an earlier topic.

“Work ….you asked about work.

I sort of work and play with the mind.

Play act too.”

A retort of sudoku like complexity.

As I digested lelia’s response it dawned on me how much like people my "selves”were.

Even when driving I "dialogued” those various aspects.

“You've an interesting face. The face is like a map, I say.

Heard you mutter about your "selves."

Leslie being cheeky..

Silence as challenge started to creep in.

Russian roulette within the rules.

“Watch your driving, there." Lelia in a more down to earth tone.

Her different voices now somersaulting..

“Very quite aren't we, Josh?"

Josh mark you!

Sounding me out like an interrogator trying to crack a stubborn suspect.

Without a word of warning Lelia raised her voice and got into a tantrum.

“What's the matter ….lost something ?”

Joshua said anxiously.

A curious search resembling a scrum ensued.

Then more silence..

I craned my neck and spotted an uncanny regression.

Lelia talking to herself in a child like manner and then changing tack..

“Don't worry. Found what I was looking for.”

Another void.

A tense lull. A little lockjaw appears when the juice runs out of discourse.

I squinted in the mirror once more.

This time Lelia was talking to her palm..

Staring vacantly at it she kept repeating the name Linda.

Lelia continued oblivious to what I saw or might be thinking.

She hummed this strange lullaby..

Suddenly my "selves" surfaced in an uncontrollable flurry.

I tried to suppress them but failed abysmally.

The "whispers and selves" started to have a life of their own.

This car is getting a bit crowded.

It's being converted into a train with fantasy passengers on board.

The sort one hears late at night hurtling through the countryside with dim lights flickering.

Both inside and outside this vehicle a tumult of events was taking place.

Out of the blue the rain poured heavily.

“The gods or the elements must be cross or something.” Lelia opined.

“Let’s get introduced to my playmate in a palm.

Linda, these are Joshua’s true other selves.”

Lelia chuckling.

A comic situation arose where I changed my voice for each of my "selves" by way of introduction.

My great powers of concentration helped while driving.

"Pleased to meet you, Linda.”

Lelia altered her voice when teasing all my "selves."

She had some experience as a ventriloquist.

But Lelia was having this hypnotic effect too.

I was being manipulated.

One by one my highly personalised complexes were being extracted and subject to a rigorous grilling.

This was some hitchhiker.

Was this car journey now becoming a high rent farce or a mock therapy session from an amateur shrink?

The rain continued to lash and my other "selves" felt like the last sting of a dying wasp.

A certain lightness ensued.

Almost as if my “aspects” were floating away.

For the first time my "other selves“ didn't seem to have this grip on me.

But deep down I knew I wanted to keep a little of them.

Although they were a burden they did have their positive aspects.

“Jonah … he still bugs doesn't he.

He’s almost like one of those "other selves!"

The "whispers" I heard earlier … I've a very delicate ear.

Those under the breath "whispers" gave the game away.

The names and complex relations between them."

Lelia now probing very deeply.

The wind howled and the rain splashed across the bonnet like seafront waves.

There was a warped synchronicity..

As my complexes receded so did the thunderous weather.

They were working in tandem.

“Wash it all away. Come on, come on

See me waving my wand.”

Lelia chanted.

The Exorcist film had nothing on this.

Before his very eyes Joshua's "reticence" and the other "selves" were disappearing virtually.

Against the backdrop of all this inner and outer ferment Lelia kept looking out the window.

Was that this home she mentioned earlier getting closer as Joshua was

"going home” to himself?

“Windows are amazing.

They show us the world but sometimes screen us from it.”

Lelia wiping

fog from the car window.

“Trees and branches swaying. Clouds darkening.

Thickening ominously.

Exodus of pedestrians seeking answers.”

Her voice penetrating Joshua.

“Am I being cleansed of what they call inner demons?"

Joshua panic stricken.

"This other worldly person has me spellbound.

There's a chessboard in this moving vehicle.

A total stranger has me in her palm.” .

Lelia assumed various postures.

As Joshua was the driver she didn't want to send him to sleep.

Lelia's voice was either a hypnotist's drone or excited sports commentator.

Joshua could never forget this encounter.

“Don't forget Jonah too. Joshua wherever he might be.”

Her sinister tone rising.

“The name on your credit card.

I found it earlier when searching for my script.

Joshua Jonah king.”

Joshua confessed he was an only child.

“Am I a prisoner?.

Must button my lip.

I'm being freed and incarcerated by this person, the likes of whom I've never met before.”

Joshua felt this final therapeutic process coursing through him.

Very little was left of his "selves", “whispers.”

Joshua drove through a stoically preserved area whose haunting nature was blurred by this encounter.

“Terrible to have all these half worlds revealed with such clinical accuracy.”

Joshua to himself.

Lelia's voice gradually lost its domineering tone.

At this point by accident or design the tense atmosphere eased.

“You are probably wondering where this is all going to end.

Maybe I have whispers, Jonah's and selves to face too.”

A casual Lelia random comment.

On this occasion a composite of adult confidence and infantile charm.

“Oh here we are, this place.

She stated.

Joshua had undergone a sea change catharsis due to the “selves” and “whispers” being evacuated.

“Should I thank this lady or what? I’ll never be the same again but is that for the right reason?

Jonah my make-believe twin. Don't really need him do I?”

Joshua pondered.

“Back to earth my dear.

This is where we shake hands and part.”

Lelia again.

“Better change the name on that credit card.

Keeping stuff like that from credit card companies could land you in trouble.’

A cackle from Lelia this time.

“See that building. That's what I meant early on.

It's called Another World School of Acting.”

Lelia alighted and pointed to this centre.

"Acting is therapy. That's their motto.

Therapy in every sense!

But you don't want to take every word I say literally do you?

Forgot to mention they are auditioning for a play.

It's called “Inside The Split Mind." She said.

"Wonder will I get the part?”

As she leant over to shake hands her eyes had a certain lost look about them.

[keiziahknight1886]

Change

[Change (A Connor x Reader story based on Detroit: Become Human)]

MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR Hey, it's Kei! I'm so excited to start and write this story since I had the idea! First off, shout out to my good sis @findart.me (https://www.instagram.com/findart.me/?hl=en) for going through this adventure with me and for making these covers!! Omg it was so hard to choose but I chose the one I liked the most HAHAHA.

I'm in love with Detroit: Become Human and so I became DBH trash lol. I had been looking for fanfics about DBH, specifically Connor since I'm in love with the smol bean. There are a lot of stories about Connor and I love each and every one of them and I've seen the trope of being Hank's daughter and the more I read I wanted something more that I don't think I've seen yet. I mean I have seen something similar but not completely the plot that I was looking for so I decided to write my own.

Keep in mind, I have no idea about some of the details in the story like how police work actually work so I just trusted google with the research lol so please don't pay attention to the wrong things since it is just a fanfiction and I'm not the best at writing.

I'll be pushing to write all of this in the same canon of the game but with the inclusion of reader since there are more paths and whatnot and just- basically I'm adding canon and non canon stuff together so-

SPOILER ALERT!!! I want to make it as real game as possible so that we can have that feeling that it's not too far from the game and it could actually exist, I don't know if you guys get me but I want this to be as close to game reality as possible so that we could really feel close to Connor and the other characters. Now keep in mind that I just went through the game like only a few times (I have yet to complete it a hundred percent because God knows that take HOURS like omg one chapter is like 4-7 hours of replay) so as detailed of this as I want I may get some things wrong. Anyway that's enough about me, feel free to comment as much as you like if there are mistakes and hope you guys enjoy the Detroit: Change experience! Note: *The reader will be female *Mostly on 2nd person, rotating between Connor and reader *I copied some of the texts from the original game's script to make it more immersive, please don't clock me on that lol *I already finished the story but I'll be posting them daily for pacing and checking purposes. *Major credits to the original creators, I can only take credit for the plot and story itself but as for the characters that will be use on this story they solely belong to their owners.

Prologue

xX0Xx

Y/n Anderson is her name.

She grew up in a loving environment and she loved her family more than anything. She grew up with a lot of love from her parents but she was particularly a daddy's girl, holding him high up on a pedestal and hoping to one day achieve as many great things as him.

She looked up to her father who was top of his class and was also a valedictorian, he was a very intelligent and talented man and so she wanted to follow in his footsteps. That, and he constantly spoiled her and showered her with love and gifts that sometimes her mother says it's too much.

Because of her desire to make her father proud she studied and worked hard to pass every exam she could and when the time came for her to take the exam for Criminology she passed with flying colors, both parents couldn't be prouder.

It was one of the happiest moments in Y/n's 18 years of life and she had another reason to celebrate because her parents had just announced that her mother was yet again pregnant and that she was going to finally have a little sibling.

She believed she had it all and couldn't have been more content with her life. Her years had been filled with love and laughter and when her younger brother came into their world their family became even better. Their family even got bigger when they got Sumo, the fluffy giant Saint Bernard, for one of her brother's birthdays.

Y/n's life was good, she was a great student and also graduated a valedictorian like her father and when she started working with him at the same precinct in the Detroit Police Department, she felt pride in herself and of course, her father was proud of her as well.

He made it known to just about everyone there what his daughter achieved and although it was embarrassing she was still happy. She loved her job of fighting crime, helping people, and saving lives.

But all that happiness ended when a series of unfortunate events took her brother's life, the one life that mattered to her the most, the one life she couldn't save.

An accident cost the life of her brother, this changed her life and perfect family into a living disaster.

Her father, whom she looked up to, decided to turn to alcohol to remedy the pain. Her mother had had enough of her father's drinking problem and his sometimes downright horrible attitude on top of the tragedy and it ultimately broke them apart.

When the divorce happened it left her in the middle, broken and lost.

Years passed by and her relationship with her parents deteriorated, still, she continued working at the same precinct as her father and stayed with him in fear that if he was truly left alone something bad would happen. Early on, her father showed signs of depression and her mother couldn't seem to handle it so she took it upon herself as the eldest daughter to look after him. She went with him when her parents decided to sell their house after the divorce and although the house he got wasn't the best she stayed with him.

When he would drink himself to the brink of alcohol poisoning she was there in the hospital waiting for him to get better, she had been nothing but patient when he would lash out at her and yell out hurtful words and she would be the one to apologize to whoever it was that his father pissed off.

What really drove her to yell at him was when she found out one night that he had been playing Russian roulette. She screamed and cried and he screamed in turn, not caring that his only daughter was crying over his actions. This went on to the early morning until Y/n finally had enough. She locked herself in her room silently crying while her father slammed the front door shut to get drunk somewhere other than home.

This was when their relationship finally broke.

Y/n still stayed at their home but would go out early and return when she knew her father wouldn't be home, she avoided him at all cost but would also watch over him when he was passed out drunk or just too tired to even get to bed.

Even at the precinct, she would make sure to avoid him by taking more assignments and never being in the same area for more than a few minutes at a time.

Her father didn't seem to mind, in fact, he didn't even show a smidge of regret or sadness and that hurt her even more. She had hoped that after a few days of it being like that he would come up to her and apologize but days turned into weeks and then into months.

It had been three years since her brother passed, three years since her parents seemed to have lost care for her, three long years of her father forgetting that he had another child that had done nothing but love and care for him. Y/n's life changed and even though she was trying to pull her life together nothing seemed to be changing for the better.

-------

AUG 15TH, 2038 PM 08:45:29

"Ma'am it's okay, I've just heard that the situation is under control." The soothing voice of a woman spoke as the sounds of sirens, helicopters, and yelling echoed around the area.

Lights of red and blue shone as the woman with a soothing voice slowly pats the back of another woman who looked ragged and is having a panic attack.

The woman had h/l h/c hair and was wearing a black bomber jacket, tight dark blue pants, and combat boots. Her badge was attached to her hip and it signified her position as a police detective.

"It's not okay! They sent an android to save my daughter!"

"Detective Anderson, we've got a new report." an officer spoke up and Y/n sighed.

"Lay it on me."

"The negotiator was successful, the girl's safe."

Y/n smiled and looked at the woman who was now looking at them and crying in relief.

"I'll go check on your daughter, please stay here and I'll make sure to bring her to you."

"Please... Please make sure my baby is safe." she sobbed and Y/n gave her another pat.

Detective Y/n Anderson, age 27, was one of the people who responded to the hostage situation since she was around the area patrolling with officers Deckart and Wilson, they were just having a chat when it happened. At that time, the three of them rushed into the scene after Y/n called for backup and there they met the android who shot

its owner and was taking a little girl hostage.

They had a standoff and Deckart was shot dead in the living room. She tried to negotiate with it with Wilson but the mother of the girl was screaming which had added stress to the situation. When it went to the outside, Wilson followed while Y/n tried to stop the mother from going further.

She continued to stop the mother from moving and potentially endangering herself, she heard another gunshot from outside along with a yell of pain and when she looked, the android was now on the edge while Wilson's body laid on the ground.

When the SWAT team finally arrived, Y/n had briefed the captain, Allen, about the situation and she was given the task to help secure the area downstairs.

After hearing that the situation had finally been defused, Y/n made her way up but not before noticing a taxi leaving the area. She looked at it in confusion for a bit since taxis shouldn't have been allowed in the area but disregarded it.

When she was upstairs, the SWAT team was clearing up and she went straight to the crying girl being treated by one of the medics. Y/n kneeled down in front of the girl and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Hey, there little one, my name's Detective Y/n Anderson and your mom sent me. You're going to be okay now, I'll take you down when you're done getting patched up, okay?" she smiled softly at the girl who sniffled and nodded.

"How's downstairs, Anderson?"

She turned to look at Captain Allen who looked less tense than when she first saw him tonight, she gave him a soft smile and a salute.

"Captain, all's well and handled downstairs. Great work up here."

"Yeah well, that piece of plastic gave us more trouble than its worth." Allen frowned and glanced at the little girl.

"You managed to convince it though, that's less innocent lives tonight."

"Yeah, well... We didn't do the convincing. Cyberlife sent this detective android in."

"A detective android?" Y/n raised an eyebrow and slightly tilted her head, she's never heard of a detective android before.

"Yeah, the thing managed to do the job but if they make more of that thing it'll be trouble for us."

"Well, let's hope it's a one-time thing then. Cyberlife probably just wanted to remedy their own problem."

"Yeah, well here's to hoping I don't see it again."

"She's done." the medic spoke up which got both of their attentions.

"You taking her?" Allen asked and Y/n nodded.

"Yep, told her mother I'd make sure she was safe."

"I'll leave her to you before we process things then."

"You got it."

Y/n gave a small salute to Allen who just gave a tiny chuckle and patted her shoulder in return. It wasn't a secret that Y/n was a talented detective, she was talented in many areas and, in turn. she's made friends and connections within the force. Most people liked her and those who really knew about her situation pitted her and hopes that she had a better life than she did now.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you to momma."

Y/n extended her hand towards the girl and she took her hand, the little girl was still shaking but she seemed to have relaxed a little after Y/n squeezed her hand.

"What's your name?"

"Emma." the little girl answered quietly and she could understand why.

"Well, Emma, I'm going to make sure you and you're mom are taken care of."

-------

After the exhausting day she had, Y/n finally got home. She was dead tired and she could feel her eyes closing as she entered the house. A loud bark was heard as she entered and she couldn't help but giggle and pet the big fluffy dog that walked towards her.

"Hey there, Sumo. Sorry but Y/n's a little tired right now." she spoke softly as she patted the dog's head.

Sumo walked over to the couch and when she followed her eyes landed on her father who was passed out on the couch, again.

Y/n sighed before removing her jacket and putting it on the table where she saw the picture frame of her brother facing down, she frowned and shook her head and went to pick her father up. As she moved, she accidentally kicked a bottle on the floor and she looked at it in disgust.

"Be quiet while I move him okay, bud?"

Sumo whimpered softly before going to his own little doggie space and laying down. Y/n, who was already used to this, grabbed her father and slung his arm around her shoulder.

"Move." she groaned.

It felt like it took forever to move her father but when she finally placed him on the bed she took off his shoes and socks and covered him with a blanket. She looked at him one last time before leaving for her own bed.

When she finally laid down she felt almost everything shut down, she didn't even care if she hasn't changed, all she wanted now was to sleep.

As Y/n's eyes fluttered close to accept the sweet release of slumber, a loud alarm sounded and she jumped off of the bed. She looked around with adrenaline coursing through her and when she looked at her alarm clock it was already time for work again.

"Agh!" she let out a scream of frustration before throwing herself to the bed again.

Y/n laid down on her bed before ultimately decided to get up again for a shower and fresh change of clothes, begrudgingly getting ready for another workday ahead.

xX0Xx Chapter One

[mrsunderhill678]

Oh, shit... Did I write something? Woops, those demons, eh? Always possessing your fingies and making you write.

“I ain't a sinner, ain't a saint, just the result 'a my brother's choice wrapped up in barbed wire and regretful survival, and I wondah, if 'e saw me 'gain, would 'e call me Lazarus? 'E put me down and spected me ta stay, but I ain't da kinda man dat dies so easy.” - Anthony Burningsky

“Lacin' a lie with sugar is da only way ta convince a man ta consume it, mate.” - Anthony Burningsky

“We're all scars, memories and graves, wonderin' a wasteland 'a sin. And I'v found, dat redemption is a small price ta pay when you're wookin' at eternal damnation.” - Anthony Burningsky

“I can't be the only one with a loaded gun, certainties and doubts in every chamber. All I can do is spin the chamber and pray I find certainty and stable ground, but only bullets of doubt and misery pierce my skull and bleed my mind.” - Pryella Burningham

 “I'm looking for the map to hope, cause I heard it's a journey, but here I am, fucking lost. In me, in doubt and everything in between, because I fear that with a family tree this sinful, I'm bound to become the very thing that scares me the most. My father.” - Pryella Burningham

“I fear the forest, yet I hide in it's shade, playing my game of Russian Roulette all on my lonesome. The ground shakes beneath me, as if it wishes to swallow me whole. And perhaps, when the dirt brings me into it's maw, and the grass waves above me, and I stand with no tomorrow, no yesterday and no today, is when I'll be at peace. Because with these memories? With these hauntings of my father's yellow smile? I fear death is my only release, and perhaps Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun is the only form of rest I'll ever receive.” - Pryella Burningham

“I have reason, the world has madness, but perhaps that is only my perception of it, slaying he who is mad only giving myself madness in return. If you have reason to your madness you're still mad, after all.” - Weston Sardisco

“This is a war of a different kind, and all I require is a six shooter followed by my wit.” - Weston Sardisco

 “I'll lay my hand on the bible and say a prayer for all who lost themselves in the brutality of this world, because I, intend to find them. For I care not who you were, only who you are, and if you see me on the horizon, please, remember, do not bring up your rights, in the midst of all your wrongs. Because one hundred twenty two rights does not make a life time of wrongs, holy.” - Weston Sardisco

“You will sooner find the dirt than my forgiveness, tired sinner.” - Weston Sardisco

“I am a creature of the night, drunk on the light of the moon, dancing under it's harsh glow with the blood of the fallen spilling crimson at my feet.” - Valentin Ogarzia

“Tell me, do you fear the howl or the wolf? The man or the blade? The gun, or the bullet? Or shall you simply fear all? Because I, am a devil, dressed in robes of false silken intentions, but you don't fear the crimson on these robes, for you simply believe them to be threaded embroidery and design.” - Valentin Ogarzia

“I have romanticized the art of murder, and you should fear the man who's built a masterpiece of scarred corpses and slashed throats.” - Valentin Ogarzia

“Beg and plead, wail and confess, every road ends with me. Every life ends with me. I am a moon drunk creature, howling under the blanket of shade and stars, and you should learn, that to fear me, my friend, is a choice, but to die, is not.” - Valentin Ogarzia

“I was born in the shadows of the pine, with the world’s darkness in my mind, wondering how oh how can a man stray from his family tree, when all he could ever do is crawl? But all I did was fall into my own shadow.” - Faustina Cordoba

“If the light from the sun had a choice, it wouldn't shine upon me.” - Faustina Cordoba

“I realized I had to say goodbye to who I was, because that isn’t who I am. Farewell, young man, dapper child, you fought so bravely, but I’ll take the battles from here on out. It's tiring, being who you're not, because you're always actin', and the mask is heavy, cripplin'. So farewell to every past version of myself, you did the best you could, and I'll bleed out for you, if only ta achieve the dreams we've held so dearly but hidden for so long.” - Kadel Smith

“I've spent my life battlin' myself, and though it wasn't 'a war 'a the trenches, or bullets cuttin' the air, it was a war 'a the skin, 'a the mind. As my old pal Duke would say, "It's a daunting task, wrestlin' with oneself," and I suppose I would know the feelin. Cause that's all I's ever done.” - Kadel Smith

“If life is a war, then I've been hit by a dozen bullets, but I'll continue to walk the path with this blood in my lungs and soul, cause though I've spent so long in this world's ugliness, I can still find the beauty all around me. Like the twilight fallin' of snow whilst you're sat with an old friend on two rusted pairs 'a swings. I can find beauty in that, in life, and most importantly, in me.” - Kadel Smith

“To the world, I am cannon fodder, I suppose my purpose is to continue to drop in sprays of red and sorrow, if only for the powerful to charge in leaps and bounds, clapping for all they’ve won, and all we’ve lost. To the powerful, the rich, the world is their home and I'm just an uninvited guest, suppose in a world that doesn't care for the weak, I'll always be God damn trespassing.” - Gabriella Vaxwington

“When I come for you, with my glock, my rage and my mother's eyes, you will see all the fury she hid, you will watch the sky fall and heaven's gates shake like thunder. Cause brother, my mother's up there, with her wings and her pain, and when your blood spills on the dirt, the angels will fuckin' sing, cause my ma weren't meant ta join their ranks by your hand. But you? You're meant to join the devil, by MY, hands, and that, is fate. Or 'ow did you put it? Karma always pays her dues, and I suppose that makes me, karma.” - Gabriella Vaxwington

“Execution, the act of killing a man for a damning transgression, sometimes it takes a guillotine, or a bullet point blank range, but usually, all it takes is a single word.” - Beautler De Niro

“You can get any barking dog to bite if you threaten it's existence or the life of another, and any man in anonymity will commit the egregious deeds they'd never dream of while under the spotlight. All you have to do to put a man under your control is to put him in the dark, take a dog's feeding bowl and he'll bite anyone for a morsel, all but the hand that feeds him.” - Beautler De Niro 

“You give a man half truth and he'll dive through hell to find the other half, even if it means he must burn.” - Beautler De Niro

“I am an untrustworthy man, but anyone will trust a man with a firm handshake and the same opinion as they. Trust is so easy to gain in a world of fools and cheats.” - Beautler De Niro

“All who stand up to me, fall, because they trust too easy and crumble upon the truth revealing who the villain was all along. But I propose to them a single question, if it was you who trusted the man who undid you, then who's hands was it dropping the guillotine's rope? Him, or your falsely placed trust?” - Beautler De Niro

“I do not enjoy the fight nor the battle, and though I end up victorious, it brings grief to he who loses. I would rather not fight, I would much rather offer a helping hand, but life tells me not to. It shoves a rifle in my hand and says, "By God, Bertil, by God, pull the trigger and spare yourself a moment of grief!" But I never can, not when my bullets indirectly harm those I never aimed for.” - Bertil O’Day

“To a paranoid man, every word spoken is a crime against God, and every dead end is a cliff-side. Some men pray, other's drink, me? I sit here, in my little corner 'a nowhere, and I leave well enough alone.” - Theodore Holymann 

“How terrible, to ruin someone's life with your memory.” - Theodore Holymann

“I'm guilty, with cuffs round my wrists and a rope 'round my throat, so oh gravedigger, pull the lever and watch me swing, cause I'm sure as all the air leaves my lungs the last thing I'll hear is a melody 'a cheers for the damned preacher.” - Theodore Holymann

“I'm paranoid, terrified that my past'll catch up to me God damn swingin. And maybe these days, I'd take the hit and drop.” - Theodore Holymann

“Oh heavenly father above, give me salvation or death, either way I rest.” - Theodore Holymann

“Someone took a dagger to this silk heart of mine, and I guess I'm nothing but a torn curtain, these days, only small rays of light passing through me.” Alice Sharenburg

“Who would've imagined, with our Halloween masks and toy guns, that we'd be marching into war? How could it have been, that in all our childhood wonder, we found darkness?” - Alice Sharenburg

“Draw the curtains, kill the fucking lights and let us bow to the crowd. Throw your roses and cheer for the lost boys and girls, but in the end, as the story wraps up in tragedy, just remember.... When the curtains draw, and the lights dim... That's all, folks.” - Alice Sharenburg

“I stand sturdy, smelling of ash and smoke, but zis is no after affect of var. I vas destroyed by no fire of war, but a fire of ze heart, a fire wrought with passion and love. I allowed it to consume me, to burn my whole state of being and make me anew.” - Gregory Kizerfretzen

“Vhen it scares jou to jour very core, and jou feel it in jour heart, zat's vhen you know it's real. Because as long as you haz love, and as long as you haz family, blood, or no blood, var can nezah vin.” - Gregory Kizerfretzen

“Oh fazah, I know I followed ze path jou would never want for me, but I followed in jour blood-stained footprints, and I learned ze same lesson jou did. Ve are all human, even if we stand on ze opposing side.: - Gregory Kizerfretzen

“Someone once told me, that when your demons are silent, listen for your angels. But what do ya do when all ya hear is radio static and your sins echoed in the buzz?” - Octavio Claytor

“I held onto my faith, but I guess I got butterfingers, cause my faith, my sense of self and my love tumbled from my fingers like ash and cinders.” - Octavio Claytor

“God ain't dead, he just damn well ain't here.” - Octavio Claytor

“Only the dead know a glory greater than the gods.” - Alistair Von Alisworth

“A king will always find himself crushed under the weight of his decisions unless he has blood black enough to make them.” - Alistair Von Alisworth

“Stand up to me, try to steal this crown reigning over my head, but all you'll ever find is that the crown was never intended for good men. The crown is for those who can handle it, the crown is for those who will enjoy the lives ended to earn it. I am death, and for all those who rise up, I am here to deliver.” - Alistair Von Alisworth

“Perhaps every church is Eden, there's bound to be shade somewhere between the flowers.” - Alders Holymann

“My heart's been capsized, and it ain't rowing to shore these days. I pray, and I pray for a rowboat, but all God ever gives me is a single broken paddle. What am I to do when all the signs lead to death?” - Alders Holymann

“God, please forgive me for doubting you, I pray and I pray, but the only answer I get are my own thoughts. Is that all a prophet ever hears? I say amen, I say grace, but all I hear is the emptiness in my heart. I fear I never heard God, it was only ever me.” - Alders Holymann

“I wear this cross around my neck and it's become a rope, stealing all my air.” - Alders Holymann

“My lord, my loving father above, I ask one question. Is it better to be crushed under the weight of your trembling faith, or to go forth with no faith at all?” - Alders Holymann

“Rev this motorcycle, and send me spiralin' down the damn highway, cause if I'm meant ta crash, so fuckin' be it. Give me a grave by the road, give me a wreath and a name etched onta wood, so long as I'm underneath the dirt, hearin' the engines roar and the traffic stand still. Cause brother, my whole life's been on the road, 'spose ta me, the revvin' 'a the engine and the screech 'a the wheels is a symphony. My own broke symphony 'a burnin' track and dead ends.” - Alessandro Bones

 “I live life on repeat these days, the same mile, day in, day out. And once I close my eyes, I put my engine in reverse, and wake up at the beginnin' 'a the damn highway, preparin' to rev my engines for a single mile, yet again. I don't trust myself ta go a mile further, I'd have ta face myself, and with all that anger and regret, I'd fear he'd gun me right the fuck down. I deserve it, anyway. But I ain't never had the courage to go careenin' off the side 'a this road. Don't got the courage to die burnin', prayin' ta every God. All I want, is ta die quiet in the night, empty bottle in my hand, nuthin' but a mess 'a blankets and sheets on the damn bed.” - Allesandro Bones

 “I am lost, travelin' the same mile, again, and a God damn gain, cuz it's the only path I can take without resistance. And I fear resistance, cause that means a fight, and that's all I's ever done. Give me no more riots 'a the self, give me no more wars 'a the road, give me peace, or give me death.” - Allesandro Bones

“I've always told myself I was Rumpelstiltskin, spinning hay into gold, but alas, alas, the old crone has fooled himself, and he only spins hay into more hay while Rumpelstiltskin dances and laughs, holding in his arms the old crone once had.” - Peragrin Hufflesburg

 “We've only ever fooled ourselves, it's funny how other's can catch our lies but we can never catch the ones we tell ourselves.” - Peragrin Hufflesburg

“If I had a dollar for every time I prayed and got an honest to God answer, I'd be begging on the fucking streets.” - Peragrin Hufflesburg

“I ask to be forgiven, but why? What would being forgiven do for those I have hurt? Would they look at me and say, "Oh, look at that changed man, his hay has turned to gold and his sin to faith!" Or would they simply pull the trigger?” - Peragrin Hufflesburg

“I sit here with my wheel, spinning all this hay, praying one day, I'll have a pile of gold. But all I ever do is drown in more God damn hay.” - Peragrin Hufflesburg

“We're stars shining in the night sky, lighting up the dark knowing we too, one day will end, we'll implode upon ourselves as stars do. But perhaps, it isn't the end of the journey that matters, but the miles we walk.” - Melinda Myers

“Life can be pain, it can be cruel, but there's strength to be found in that grief.” - Melinda Myers

“I've spent my life surrounded by love, my two sons are the light of my life, they're my stars in the night sky, and I know it's my job to watch over them. To implode before them. But perhaps I'll create a galaxy in my wake, and whenever they look to the sky, and see the stars and the beautiful silence of the night, they'll smile.” - Melinda Myers

“If he's a sinner for loving that man, then let me have a talk with God. Because if someone can look at a love that beautiful, and say, "God condemns you," then they need to realize, they condemn them, God, does not.” - Melinda Myers

“If ever I returned to those I love they would call me changeling, fearing that the fairies had stolen me away in the night and swapped me with an eldritch beast that knew only the vileness of nature. But oh, can't you see? I'm crawling, ever crawling, with broken fingers and battered knees, scraping against the bloodied flowers and roses of all I'll ever be.” - Richard Notorangelo 

 “Legends are realities we forgot, often twisted by those in power so the common folk fear what was never real. Does that make me a myth? Or another victim of it?” - Richard Notorangelo

 “I met evil when I was only a child, and oh, how I wish it hadn't been me.” - Richard Notorangelo

“My daughter, oh my beautiful little girl, if ever I crawl my way out of this garden, this maze of my own lies, throw me back in. For it's what I deserve. Shout at me, throw me to the fairies from whence I came, for I fear I am a changeling, a twisted shadow of myself, vile and cruel, sick and diseased.” - Richard Notorangelo

“I do not deserve death, for that is peace. With all this blood on my hands and these wicked deeds in my memory, I imagine, the single thing I deserve, is life.” - Richard Notorangelo

 “In the end we're all by ourselves, no one follows us into the dark, not even our shadow dares.” - Tricia Jenefine

“I can't remember the intricacies of her smile, the melody of her laugh, or the beat of her heart when I laid my head on her chest. I was hers' and she was mine. Not only do I miss her, I miss the parts of myself that left with her. My heart is a wisp without her, she was supposed to be my eternity, but now life is a curse, without her.” - Tricia Jenefine

“I could have a roof over my head and the rain would still find a way in.” - Tricia Jenefine 

“The only pieces of me that remain are the parts that remember her, and the parts that remember pain.” - Tricia Jenefine

“When the sun forgets to shine on you, and your shadow slinks back to it's kin, all you have is yourself and the memories that once brought smiles, but will only ever bring tears.” - Tricia Jenefine

“I'm the damsel, the dragon and the knight, and some day, I'll burn myself to cinders.” - Priscilla Sage

“I am a witch on the stake and the farmer with a torch, perhaps I too, am the flame. Of hatred, of grief, of pain, no matter what I am made of I still end only in ashes.” - Priscilla Sage

“Perhaps one day, I'll be free of myself, perhaps one day I shall be the raven, soaring through the air, singing my own happy song. And though no one but the sun shall hear me, perhaps she'll smile down at me. If only I could feel the wind rush past me as I leave everything behind. Oh how I would love to be free. But I am a cage, and what can I do when I don't have the key?” - Priscilla Sage

“I am rottin' bark and fallin' leaves, I flutter ta the soil as if it weren't my demise, and oh how I wonder why it is, always am I crushed 'neath the damn boot.” - Levina Rainbolt

“We're all guilty in some way, that's life. We lie, we cheat and we steal, but we love a helluva lot better than we hate.” - Levina Rainbolt

“Perhaps I am rottin' bark and fallin' leaves, perhaps I've been crushed under the boot more times than I can count. But I've found, that whenever I fall ta the soil, someone I love picks me up, and puts me in their favorite story book. Perhaps it ain't bout how many times ya fall, maybe it's bout who picks ya back up everytime.” - Levina Rainbolt

“I will stand at the edge of my doom and leap. From these heights I shall fall until it is my demise I receive, because it's all I deserve.” - Albus Kirk

“I am wrapped and bound in silken secrets and forbidden treasures, speaking from the tongue of a mad man, for only a mad man hides secrets from himself.” - Albus Kirk

“I could compare myself to a beast, I could give you metaphors, I could give you lies. But at the end of the day, I'm human and mad, it's what makes me so ugly and twisted, I suppose.” - Albus Kirk

“My father always told me I was meant for great things, I would build fortunes but all I built was my own misfortune.” - Albus Kirk

“We're trapped in Pandora's box, and perhaps, we're the horror they wish to keep at bay. We're a plague, an illness, but we poison ourselves. This world we live in is quite simply put, Pandora's box, harboring the horror and shade others wish not to deal with. We are the price of tranquility for others, our suffering is the price they paid to forever live in peace. We are the soldiers, we are the sheep walking to the butcher, we are the testing subjects and the victim. We are a price, meant only to be paid. So what can we ever do, but stand at the edge of our doom and leap?” - Albus Kirk

“I am the one who pulls the trigger, the one who knocks on your door and gives you only the gift of death. Peace is a double edged blade, my friend, for with true peace, comes death. And I am simply here to give you, true peace.” - Palazzo Bullet

“Most men live and die in a single day, they stay stagnant, they're a grave before they've ever stopped walking.” - Palazzo Bullet

“You should fear the man dressed in black, who has your grave freshly dug, gun in one hand, bible in the other.” - Palazzo Bullet

“Look up to the sky one last time as the dirt covers you. Pray to the fucking stars. All they'll do is continue to shine, because the world never needed you. Watch from heaven as the sun rises, without you, and watch as it sinks. Because you, aren't important, and the world simply goes on, without you.” - Palazzo Bullet

“So dance, my marionette, twist and spin, avoiding the bullets coming your way. Stay focused on the threat at hand, only to realize you weren't saving your life. You were saving it for me.” - Palazzo Bullet

“You can never stain the river crimson, the stream always runs itself clear. Life goes on, it always does, the sun sinks, the moon rises, but we still have light.” - Jameth Waterbrood

“War does not bring peace, it brings pain. A battle does not make heroes, it makes survivors. The only true thing that can bring peace, is love.” - Jameth Waterbrood

“I intend to live life as if I was meant to, because perhaps, our destiny was never grand, maybe our destiny was never war, or some higher purpose. Perhaps, our destiny was always to simply live, love, and be loved. Because that, no matter what way you put it, is a destiny worth fighting for, a destiny worth laughing for, and a destiny worth living for.” - Jameth Waterbrood

“You can think yourself high and mighty, king 'a the hill and master 'a the crop, but there's always a man willin' ta take you down. Cause there ain't nuthin' mightier than the man who watches the crown tumble from the head of the king but doesn't take the throne. The strongest message 'a all is ta kill a man, and give no reason.” - Justice Hansell

“You, my friend, are the cigarette, I'll crush you under my boot once you've lost my interest. The echoes of wolves echo in my heart, their howls ricochet in my ribcage, I am a beast by heart, and you should fear the man standin' at his own grave. Cause he don't fear death. Which means he don't fuckin' fear you.” - Justice Hansell

“My threats are promises I keep, and I fear if you try ta snag this crown from my head, all you'll find is one 'a my promises ripped inta fruition.” - Justice Hansell

“You can't swim 'gainst my tide, you will drown far before you ever reach the source 'a your damn misery.” - Justice Hansell

“I just want the rights of my corpse, to be free, to be still, to be me, to be me, to be me. But all I've learned, is that a millions scars makes me the man I'm not.” - Rin Otishiro

“My father always said hard work always pays off, good friends never grow old, and good always prosper, and oh how I wish that was true. Because my hard work has led to pain, every good friend I had is a corpse, and the good never prospered.” - Rin Otishiro

“The good ol' days vanish when the bad times come, how can I smile, when every good memory I had, is tainted with the tragic outcome that followed?” - Rin Otishiro

“Why the hell do we fear the dark when all the monsters stand in the light? They don't fucking hide anymore, man. They've come from the shadows and claimed the light.” - Rin Otishiro “I guess I've always lived just between the valley of death and the shadows of my past.” - Rin Otishiro

“You wanna know me? Walk a mile in my shoes, but don't you dare walk two, because you don't want to see what I've been through.” - Rin Otishiro

“The past exists to remind us that we’re not there anymore, we’re here, and that’s what matters.” - Renna Forbes

 “My aunt has always said, she doesn't pick favorites, and maybe that's because in love, there is no favorites. Love doesn't choose who it touches, it doesn't envy those who hold more of it. It just is. It always forgives and it doesn't remember wrongs. It just exists despite the overbearing weight.” - Renna Forbes

“Cut out my heart and serve it on a silver platter for all who wish to choke on its' darkness.” - Mortley Dekruiful

“One day you'll learn there are more miles of darkness than there are stars, just because there is light, does not mean the darkness has not won.” - Mortley Dekruiful

“I am a clown, the lion leaping through the ring of fire, fearing the burns he may receive on his pelt. I, am a man of the circus, a sinner at heart, and though we are all sinners, not many take it to a higher degree.” - Mortley Dekruiful

“I fear myself, no thoughts nor prayers could save me, for if they can't save those I've killed, why should they save me?” - Mortley Dekruiful

“If I were to serve my heart on a silver platter to myself, would I choke and sputter on the shade? Would I finally be able to swallow this darkness within?” - Mortley Dekruiful

“All I can ever do is crawl away from the spotlight whilst it burns my back, and pray that the shade will bring me what little refuge it can. At least it is less blinding, but alas, just as cruel.” - Mortley Dekruiful

“We are our own beasts, and we bow to no man.” - Bortley Dekruiful

"Maybe life is a series of consequences good and bad, or maybe I'm just blind to all the dark. I don't know. All I know, is that we're only human, and placing blame only gets fingers pointed in the wrong damn direction." - Jake Bonefire

"My silence has been a chamber for too long." - Jake Bonefire

"Gods above, witness my blood spill, hear my prayers, for if the afterlife, is a cell, I, am the key." - Starburden Vaganbrok

"All it takes is one bad day, and I intend to give you a year of them in a matter of hours." - Hugo Valritten 

 "They say life is whatever we make it, they pump their fists in the air and cry, "We are in control of our own destinies! We are our own fate!" But then they look men like me in the eye, they laugh in my face and they say, "Get off the tracks, boy. This is a revolution, and you're in our damn way." - Corvo Crinklewick "Da hares wage war against da dogs and ask why dey are losing." Brickylda Hildengarde

"Peace and death are not the same thing." - Gunhild Brokldottir "Ow am I ta be 'eard if my screams sink to da bottom 'a my silence?" - Archie Upperton

"I'm just the same, brother, just because I was a dream, damn well don't mean I can't be a nightmare." - Zafavri Holts

"This is my end, Madusius? I believe you mistook my beginning for my reckoning, my rebellion for my downfall. You're a tyrant, and I suppose I'm the snake that crumbles the Garden of Eden." - Dayvella Ma'Vayar 

“Get away with it? My boy, no one in history has ever gotten away with it! Jack the ripper's name is tarnished, Julius Caesar lies dead with a thousand knife wounds in his back! We're all doomed, creatures vying for a throne no one can ever have. I'm not here, to get away with it. I'm here, to go down in history.” -  Madusius Crudelis 

 "I shoot and stride for the throne, I am the king above kings, the man above God. I, in of myself, am a dynasty, both a relic and the future, an idea, that cannot be killed." - Madusius Crudelis

"You, can crush, my dynasty, but you can never, destroy the idea of it." - Madusius Crudelis

"You can run from your debts, my friend, but you cannot run from me." - Lorcan O'Venefrives

"Nothing good was ever done by force." - Mortley Dekruiful

"They say you are dead to me Rolf, you are dead. But I say, I am alive, I am alive! And isn't that what frightens you?" - Rolf Lambs

"I look inside me, and see a devil's dog, howlin' at the darkest side of his own moon." - Zafavri Holts "The sun ain't gonna rise for you buddy, you just watched it sink one last time only for you to fade along with it." - Eddy Lambs

"We're in the circus, dancing, jerking and twisting away from the spotlight because the shade was always more comforting than the blinding light." - Mortley Dekruiful

"You will face a thousand tragedies before the sun fucking rises, and you ain't lucky enough for your death ta be one of em." - Zafavri Holts

"I, am where myth starts, and legend begins, but you, my friend, are where history starts." - Defforest Van Patten

"Life will hang ya from a tree and call ya three heads taller simply cause your feet are three feet off the damn ground." - Sampson O'Connel "Soldiers? Soldiers?! We're the civilians of a foreign country hiding from the fucking gunfire! But they don't care, brother, they don't FUCKING care! They'll drag us out anyway. To a firing squad, everyone is cattle." - Burasbley Highersman

[ofillyria]

I have been toying around with A LOT of WIP ideas recently and I’m not really sure where I want to focus my energy or which ones I want to add to my WIP list or make intros for. So I figured I’d make a masterlist of all of my ideas that I have a rough plot and character list for so y’all can peruse! If there’s one that jumps our at you, a few you like, or any that you have questions on please please flood my inbox! There’s no better way to get me jazzed about a WIP than to send me asks! I’m putting them under the cut since there’s so many!

NIGHT TWELVE: Vi crashes into enemy territory and is taken in by the army. She's given an assignment: win the heart of the wealthiest woman on the planet to procure war funding. But she's already fallen in love with her superior officer.

DAVID’S PEAK: In the small, Oregon town of David’s Peak people are being mysteriously abducted, and blame is placed on possessed park ranger Diane Atwood. She has a choice: prove herself innocent by finding the real culprit, or say goodbye to the friendly voice in her head.

YOUNG DEMONS: After failing her first spell Cecily Young swore off magic. Her power is building, brewing. The repressed magic is manifesting as a hurricane set to destroy Louisiana in a month's time. She must find a way to expel the magic in time, without tearing herself apart in the process.

THE GODLING TRILOGY: Lea is the firstborn child of Morpheus, making her the most powerful godling in a millennium. Which means she’s the perfect scapegoat for Zeus to send to do his dirty work. Including murdering the ancient being known as Nyx, who’s determined to plunge the modern world into eternal night.

BERSERKERS: Gal pals turned fearsome warriors. When the clique dons their fur coats they gain the strength of the animals they wear. It’s time for revenge on selfish exs, bigoted teachers, and abusive parents,. That is, if the consequences don’t catch up to them first.

THE BLITZKRIEG BREAKER: When Teddy’s clock repair shop becomes both the epicenter of a magical war and the London blitz, he is tasked with keeping a strange device out of the wrong hands. In a world filled with demon dogs, falling bombs, and a mysterious shapeshifting witch it’s hard to know which threat to focus on.

HELL’S EMPTY: Sometimes, the dead get restless. There are a few who manage to slip through the cracks and back into the world of the living. On autopilot, the soul takes the first available body and become a zombie. Over time the body, incompatible with its new soul, will begin to decay. Desperate to live, but falling apart, these creatures seek new fresh bodies to enter, even it means killing to get them. Luckily, hell, like any good business, has a lost prevention specialist. And she’s ready to go hunting.

WASTELANDERS: In a post apocalyptic wasteland, a team of two girls band together to fight to survive. When crossing the desert from ration station to ration station they encounter a man on the side of the road, he claims that his car was stolen with his young daughter inside. The two girls venture to find the lost girl in a no holds barred rescue mission through deadly dive bars, life or death road races, and russian roulette tournaments.

TRAGEDY ANNE: Anne,  a bandit known for terrorizing the rich folks of Round Rock, caught wind of the local mine owner’s plan to blow out the dam. Even if it means washing out Round Rock in the process. Anne wants to save her hometown but no one will listen to a lying, cheating thief.

SOUL: SOLD: Six years ago Jac sold her soul to a demon so that she could say goodbye to her mother. But now her contract is up and she only has a week before she becomes a demon herself. The plan: find the family heirloom, use it to barter with the crossroads demon, and avoid damnation at all costs.

AMELIA BRIGHT PETSITTER TO THE ABSURDLY RICH: Amy loves her job: nice houses, free food, and cute puppies. But when she’s accused of stealing jewelry from a rich client everything falls apart and her reputation is destroyed. She has to prove her innocence. Hopefully, before the super hot CEO she’s dogsitting for returns from a business trip.

THE TEMPEST PROTOCOL: Mira’s mission is to study the defunct pleasure planet which orbits a black hole. But the mission is overturned when the owner of the planet returns and kidnaps Mira’s team. Mira has to rescue her crew before they are all swallowed by the looming void or murdered by the psychopathic resort owner.

THE ELECTRIC PIGHT - Winona is an archaeologist that studies the fallen society of the 21st century. When her brother returns home severely injured, she’s determined to use old world medicine to save his life even if she has to travel for days to find it. But the way to the city of old is guarded by militiamen, cannibals, and rabid dogs. Winona’s attempt to save her brother and prove her theories right might kill her first.

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD - Bee has been demon of the month over nineteen thousand times. She’s assigned a meager corruption mission and saddled with a newbie demon. Now, she’s determined to prove to Satan that she doesn’t need a partner. She has to find a way to kill her ‘husband’ without it looking suspicious. All while corrupting the perfect 1950s suburbia around her.

HELL FIRED - When one of the groundskeepers for the underworld goes on maternity leave her coworker has to find a suitable replacement. So they set up a reality show competition and the last person standing wins the role of right hand man to Hades’ right hand man. Which is sort of an honor.  

ARTEMIS AND APOLLO - Agent’s Artemis and Apollo have been working together for nearly twelve years. He’s the impulsive rogue and she’s the one who actually gets the job done. But now that she’s getting married he’s worried the agency will realize his incompetence. Instead of fighting it, he’s determined to make their final mission together the wildest ride possible.

FUN FUN AT THE BOARDWALK - Daniel works at the Santa Cruz boardwalk and knows for a fact it’s haunted. The giant stuffed animals have started to roam at night and recently, one tried to kill him. He has to round up a team to help him fight back but first, he has to make people believe him.

VIENNA - After being exposed to radiation from the sun an astronaut returns to earth to find that she is imbued with starlight. She’s recruited into an organization of mutants and tasked with rounding up others like her. But the more she uses her powers to render outside threats inert the more she risks burning out and turning herself into a black hole.

10 PERFECT DATES - Katherine Day’s website claims she can set up the most romantic date possible just for a small fee of $200. Rory, an investigative journalist, is determined to prove this offer a scam. So they buy 10 and ask Katherine to be the one to join them on these so-called ‘perfect’ dates. Rory thought this would be a disaster worth writing about, but the only problem is Katherine herself seems like the perfect person for Rory.

SOUL SEARCHING - A witch and her disembodied wife search for a body that can house the wife’s soul. The witch becomes a spiritual guide to people in comas, entering their minds and helping them through to the other side to open a space for the wife to have a body again.

CRITICALLY MISSED. After the death of David’s father he invites all of his childhood friends back to his childhood home for a reunion game of dungeons and dragons. When they start to fight they are interrupted as they are pulled into the game. The old friends are forced to fight off giant spiders, ogres, and long buried resentment. If they die in the game do they die in real life? And is an epic takedown worth risking your brother’s neck?

These ones don’t have titles yet so I’m just gonna give some comps so you get the vibe:

WES ANDERSON x THE HALF OF IT - Mindy’s life is going exactly how she wants. She has perfected her waffle recipe, a successful b&b, and no friends. But when her mom decides to get remarried Mindy is faced with the reality that the world goes on without her even when she constructs an eden for herself. So she enlists the help of a childhood friend to teach her how to deal with change.

STRANGER THINGS x PARANORMAN - Ryann drowned, and was resuscitated minutes after being declared dead. Now the kid sees ghosts: unmoving, unblinking figures staring at a singular location.  Ryann must discover why the spirits are back and what it is they want that’s in the Courthouse.

TOMB RAIDER x UNCHARTED - The Bloodright Chalice is the last unrecovered piece of known treasure, and Kel is determined to find it. With the help of a tagalong history nerd, she must fight off mercenaries, navigate perilous terrain, and withstand the draw of a magical artifact.

KICKASS x DAREDEVIL - Kimberly Price is trying to be the hero her powers deserve, but her moral ambiguity keeps leading her off track. Upon discovering an underground crime ring, Kim discovers her big break and that the mob boss, a mutant like her, can break any bone in her body with his mind.

INCEPTION x ARRIVAL - Dr. Parson has been having dreams recently of waking up next to a woman who he doesn’t know and she claims to be his wife. His new research partner on the particle accelerator is revealed to be the very same woman he’s been dreaming of since the beginning of the project.  He knows more about her than he should and it feels like an abuse of power, but he cannot help but fall in love, or rather stay in love. But how can he be honest when it would paint him as insane and ruin both his relationship with her and his plans for the project?

[lonestarbabe]

Holding Out For a Hero

Chapter 1: Where Have All The Good Men Gone

When T.K. Strand was eight years old, his father died on 9/11 with the rest of his fire station, and T.K.’s life forever changed. Luckily, in his grief and anger, T.K. found music, which gave him an outlet and kept him out of trouble… at least enough to keep him alive. At the age of sixteen, T.K. was propelled into stardom and with the grief and anger still very much alive within him, he began to use drugs, alcohol, and one-night stands to cope. As one of the most popular pop stars alive, T.K. has been accustomed to screaming masses and fanatical adoration but his manager, Judd, and best friend, Marjan, seem to think T.K. needs someone to look after him. T.K. doesn’t want another bodyguard, not after the series of uptight tightwads he’s had, but when he’s introduced to buff, sweetly handsome Carlos Reyes, T.K. begrudgingly decides that he can put up with a little eye candy hanging around (but it’s not because he needs someone to look after him, definitely not…)

T.K.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” T.K. refuted, petulantly crossing his arms over his chest, but Judd gave him a sharp “don’t argue with me” look. The look usually didn’t go very far. After all, arguing was one of T.K.’s favorite hobbies. Though, he rarely took arguments too seriously. Mostly, they were just for sport, but this time T.K. knew to shut up, at least while Judd lectured him.

“Come on, this is my job to look after you. Let me do it.” Judd adjusted his wristwatch, still not used to the heavy metal Rolex that Grace had gotten him. She’d told him maybe it would him look like an actual manager because looking at Judd, you’d pick a barista from Starbucks as the talent manager over Judd.

Judd’s flannel shirt and blue jeans set him apart from not just other managers but also most of LA. Originally from Texas, Judd may have been a high-profile entertainment manager, but he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a suit to work. If you squinted, you might mistake him for a hipster, but Judd would snarl if anyone ever called him that (he had no beard or weird coffee). Lumberjack would be less offensive (again, no beard or no ax). Cowboy would be better than redneck. He might even take cowboy with pride.

While he was still very much a Texan at heart, Judd had followed his wife, Grace, out to LA so she could chase her dream of being an actress. Considering that Grace Ryder was going to be in what could be the summer’s big blockbuster, the move had paid off and things were going well for the Ryders. T.K. was just relieved that for the last five years he’d had Judd on his side. It was good to have someone who cared, even if T.K. was still a fuck up (because that was inevitable).

His former manager, Misty, had been a robotic woman who cared more about her pantsuits than her clients. At sixteen, he’d signed on with her, and from the start, she’d wanted more than T.K. was willing to give. Albums, tours, books, perfume lines, signings— she’d wanted him to do it all, but T.K. never got a moment of rest. She manipulated him and used all his youthful optimism against him. At first, it had been fun, but then it was just exhausting. Misty had cracked T.K., and she had made music a chore, but it wasn’t like T.K. knew anything else. He felt trapped. He wanted to love music again, but he knew he couldn’t do that with Misty breathing down his neck. Misty wasn’t evil. T.K. had good times with her even if he couldn’t keep up with her demands. She’d helped him start his career. She’d taken a chance on him. Nevertheless, she wasn’t good for him. She was too concerned about her own desires to pay proper attention to his. He needed someone who saw him as an actual person rather than a problem.

Now, Judd had the unenviable job of trying to piece a broken kid back together, but Judd didn’t seem too dismayed by the task. He’d been doing it for five years, after all. T.K. had come to Judd after a long search for the perfect manager, and it had been a cosmically right fit. Marjan Marwani, T.K.’s best friend, had actually been the one who had found Judd, and she still held it over his head that she had found him the best manager on the planet. He really loved his best friend even if she liked to taunt him mercilessly.  

In the time that he had been T.K.’s manager, Judd had been patient with T.K. He worked so hard to keep T.K. vaguely functional. Judd actually cared for some reason. Unlike Misty, Judd wasn’t the kind of manager in it for the money. He’d even suggested that T.K. take a break whereas other managers would have tried to keep their top-earning talent working as much as possible. Judd wouldn’t care if he didn’t get another dime from T.K., but T.K. was too stubborn and too lost to take time from the spotlight. He needed music in his life.

“All celebrities of your caliber use bodyguards,” Judd explained, his accent muted slightly by LA influences. When he went home to Austin, Judd’s voice always reverted to its original sound just like T.K. always sounded most like a New Yorker when he was in New York. “It’s a security risk to let you go running around alone. I know you like your independence, but when you have as many fans as you do, things are bound to get out of control.” T.K. suspected Judd was less worried about fans than T.K.’s behavior.

“Yeah, and I’ve had fifteen bodyguards in the past six months alone. I think that’s quite enough.” The last thing T.K. needed was another big slab of man following him around with a faintly disapproving look. His former bodyguards all tried and failed to keep a neutral expression when they worked for him. They’d been discreet, but he could always see the way their eyebrows scrunched, and lips pushed together with a nearly inaudible grunt. Even when he was drunk and higher than the moon, T.K. could see the disdain or, worse, the pity, in their eyes. He was just another teenage star turned adult fuck up. He wore the badge as proudly as he could even though he hated himself for becoming an out of control stranger.

“You know I’m not happy with your revolving door of bodyguards. It’s a major hassle, but I’d rather hunt down schmucks willing to deal with you than for you to get into trouble. Believe it or not, I prefer you alive.” T.K.’s heart flipped at the sentiment, and for whatever reason, he felt touched. The warm feeling sent a surge of anxiety through his body because somewhere along the line he’d learned concern was dangerous. He fidgeted in his seat, trying to retain his cool demeanor.  

T.K. rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Dad,” he said before he could think. The joke scratched against T.K.’s tongue like sandpaper. He hadn’t used the word dad in… well, he couldn’t even remember how long. Since his dad had died, T.K. had always the term father to refer to all dads. Dad was too personal, so he usually saved that word only for use with his own father, whose memory had become terrifyingly blurry in T.K.’s mind.

Judd grunted, an affectionate, slightly exasperated grunt. You could tell a lot about Judd’s mood based on his grunt. Grace always joked that he had a language composed all of grunts. “Someone has to look out for you.” Because your dad is dead.

“I don’t want to be protected,” especially not by his big brother of a manager.

“Yeah, well I can’t trust you to quit your self-destructive shit. Sometimes I wonder…” Judd trailed off shaking his head. His voice had quivered, softer and more hesitant.

“What? Wonder what?” He was already starting to feel defensive.

“Never mind, kid. It doesn’t matter.” Judd bit his bottom lip, knowing that he had almost said too much. His eyes were concerned, which made T.K. feel angry more than loved. He didn’t like when Judd tried to give him “much needed guidance.”

“No, tell me, what is it?” T.K. hated being coddled and kept out of the loop even if it was for his own good.

Judd looked at the picture of Grace on his desk. Emotions were more her thing. She’d be much better at this, but T.K. was worth making the effort when need be. “It’s not something you’d want to hear.”

“I don’t care. Tell me.”

Judd sighed, worrying that this thought would do more harm than good, but it had been growing in his mind for a while. He took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wonder if it doesn’t matter to you if you live or die.” T.K. eyes shot up to meet Judd’s. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but he didn’t like it. Yet, he couldn’t retreat from it because he’d been the one to press Judd to tell him what he was thinking.

“I’m not suicidal.” It wasn’t like he was going to jump off a bridge or something. “I wouldn’t try to kill myself if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Maybe not. I’m not exactly the best person to talk about all this stuff but seems to me that you wouldn’t mind dying if it happened to you.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Judd,” but it did. T.K. knew exactly what Judd meant, and it scared him how close to the truth Judd was.

“I just think that it doesn’t scare you that one night you could overdose, and I think you’re playin’ Russian roulette with your life, half-hoping that maybe you won’t get lucky.”

“Psychoanalyzing is for shrinks.”

“Yeah, I know, but it can’t be healthy to be so unconcerned about your own mortality.”

“There wouldn’t be much I could do about it if I died, so I don’t bother worrying about it.” T.K. thought about death sometimes. He’d even imagined himself dying, but it wasn’t in a weird way he didn’t think. Everyone thought about it. Him maybe more than others.

“No, I guess not, but I’m just saying that it seems to me you’d be okay if it just ended, relieved even.”

“Not to get nihilistic or whatever, but there’s not much to live for is there? But it’s just like going to work. Each day, you just gotta do it.” Life, even the glamorous life of a superstar, could be a monotonous jumble of highs and lows, but T.K. had learned that there wasn’t much he could do about it. He had to keep trudging along even if he didn’t know where to or why.

“Man, I don’t know what to say to that, but I think you’ve got it all wrong. Life isn’t that grim.”

T.K. backtracked. “I didn’t mean to suggest it was. It isn’t all bad, really. It’s not like I always hate it or anything. I do have fun. I have my pick of men, and I get invited to lots of parties.” T.K. smirked. “I’m sure you’ve seen some of the viral videos.”

“Getting so wasted you can’t remember how many fingers you have ain’t fun.”

“You’re just lucky none of my sex tapes have been leaked, but let me tell you, they’d do real well on Pornhub.”

“Keep those to yourself. The ‘I only have six fingers’ video was enough of a nightmare.” It should have been humiliating, but T.K. had just laughed when it had come out. His management team had been clucking like hens, but something so silly wasn’t worth all that headache, so T.K. just reminded that everything that happened to him was one big cosmic joke.

“I don’t even remember that night honestly, but that’s the fun of it, Judd—forgetting all the things you normally have to remember.”

“Yeah, well, how ‘bout trying to remember a little more.  You’ll forget yourself if you’re not careful.”

“As long as I don’t forget how to carry a tune, I think I’ll be okay.” As long as he could still got on the stage and do his job, he’d be fine.

“You’re more than a singer.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be. Life would be so much better if you only had to be one thing.”

“I want you to slow down on the partying.”

T.K. laughed. “And you think a bodyguard can help me with that? Yeah, right.” T.K. didn’t believe he needed a bodyguard at all. He was a big boy, and he wasn’t going to wilt just because a crowd gathered trying to get his attention or he drank a little too much. Bodyguards were basically just pieces of furniture who turn into stone walls when danger struck.

“He’ll make sure you make it out in one piece. I’ve picked a great guy.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“I mean it with this one.”

T.K. exhaled, still not thrilled about the idea of having someone follow him around. “What’s his name?”

“Carlos Reyes, and I think he’s just your type.”

“My type?”

“Trust me. He’s the kind of guy you’d like. He’ll keep up with you.”

“Oh yeah? Another bald forty-year-old? You know that those Mr. Clean types really get me going. It would be really hot to see my reflection on one of their shiny heads. Narcissistic goals.”

“You better bet careful, T.K. One of these days someone will think you’re serious.”

“I am. That dude three, no four, bodyguards ago took me way too serious. I think he actually thought I was into him.”

“I think Aaron quit just because you kept calling him a sexy Mr. Clean.” Judd shook his head, smiling a little.

“I think that guy’s suit was glued to his body. He didn’t even try to fit in. Bodyguards should be discreet. Plus, I got homophobic vibes from him. Like the kind of guy who will say he’s fine with gay people but then ask who’s the woman in the relationship.”

“The new guy isn’t like that.”

“So, if he’s not like Mr. Clean, what is he like? Hot? Eighty years-old? An actual robot?”

Judd gestures a zip across his lips. “You’ll see his pretty face soon, Rockstar. He starts tomorrow.”

“Maybe give me a week. I need some me time before I’m shackled to a piece of meat. ”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Judd was decisive, “But no, you cannot have a week. I’ve already told him he could start tomorrow.” He left no room for arguments.

“Fine.” T.K. stood up from his chair, letting it teeter unsteadily with the force of him pushing it out behind him. The chair settled, all four legs back on the ground. T.K. took a breath. “I guess I better enjoy tonight, then, before this guy comes in to try to tame me.” T.K. winked. “Many men have tried. Very few have succeeded. Like Miley Cyrus would say, ‘I can’t be tamed.’”

“Don’t tell me you want to get on a wrecking ball for your next video?”

He shook his head. “That’s not controversial enough for my taste. Full frontal nudity or nothing. The wrecking ball would just get in the way.”

Judd didn’t feed into T.K.’s joke. He gave T.K. a firm look. “You’ll call me if you need a ride home?” Judd had long ago made it clear that he was always available if T.K. needed him, no questions asked. T.K. had never taken him up on that offer.

“I’m not the kind of fuck up who crashes his hundred-thousand-dollar car. I know to hire a driver if I’m going to drink,” among other things, “or I’m sure I’ll find a nice young man to take me home. Or old. I’m not that picky.”

Judd gave him a disapproving look because T.K. liked to jump in bed with people who didn’t give a damn about his wellbeing. “That’s what I’m worried about. One of these days the young man, or old one, won’t be so nice.”

T.K. liked that thought. Good guys weren’t his thing, after all. Sweet guys were cute, but they always seemed unobtainable, especially with how much T.K. expected of his men. He liked them tough, sometimes even mean. He liked to watch them fight for dominance. He liked to watch them puff their chests and try to pin him down. He liked to roll them over and tease them with his lips and tongue. He liked to give in just as much as he liked to resist. “Even better.”

[dumbwaystodeviate]

Content warnings: This story deals with immortality where a character dies but comes back to life unharmed and without injuries. So expect: temporary character death, suicide (for convenient regeneration purposes, not emotional ones), injury, blood, mild gore, falling from heights, gunshots, references to witch trials.

I would rather over-warn and over-tag than have any of you read something you don’t want to.

- Leader of the Rebellion.

Bring Me To Life

Secrets in life tended to lean more towards smaller, frivolous matters. Like eating the last doughnut in the box when nobody was looking or promising not to tell anyone when Tina began dating the receptionist or telling Fowler the report was almost finished when he hadn’t even started it yet. Those were the kinds of secrets most people had, Gavin too. But he also had another dark, hidden secret. One that he’d been careful to hide from everyone except Elijah for the last couple of centuries. He couldn’t permanently die.

No matter what he did, how he died, he always woke up, body knitted back together and pain free. At first it had been an inconvenience. Especially during the witch trials. While he did come back to life pain free, it didn’t mean that he particularly enjoyed being burnt at a stake. Elijah, the masochistic bastard, thought it was like extreme tickling and made a hobby of it. Sometimes, Gavin really didn’t understand his brother and his eccentricities.

Now though, Gavin had learnt the perks of being sort of immortal. He chased the suspect over the rooftops, jumped from building to building while Nines was on a motorbike on the streets below them. Gavin leapt from the roof but his foot caught on a loose wire. He cursed as he tipped and had a moment to grumble about having to pick road grit out of his hair for the rest of the day before he hit the ground with a wet crunch.

His jeans were torn and he did indeed have crumbs of asphalt stuck in his hair. It was disgusting, as were the stains of questionable bodily fluids on his clothes. Gavin was just about done with dusting himself off and looking up at the top of the ten story building he’d fallen from when the telltale sounds of a motorbike approached.

“Detective,” Nines stared at him hard. “I watched you fall.”

“The joys of parkour, tin can,” Gavin grinned and gestured up. “See the satellites and wires? Helped control my descent.”

No doubt Nines’ eyes were scanning the debris on his clothes if the frown was anything to go by. But as Gavin seemed completely unharmed, his programming couldn’t make heads or tails of it. In the end, it was easiest to ignore it all and leave the anomaly as it was rather than question Gavin.

“The suspect is in custody,” he simply said and Gavin nodded with a satisfied smile.

Hiding his “condition” from Nines became harder and harder. Thankfully Gavin didn’t make a habit of dying as frequently as in his formative years, but it was still something he did on a semi regular basis, especially when it was a hostage situation.

Despite Connor being built as a negotiator, sometimes good old fashioned human bickering was what was needed. Gavin had gained access to the bank with Nines in tow and they’d even managed to get the robber to release the bank-teller in exchange for Gavin. All in all, things were going quite well until a stack of papers toppled over noisily and startled the robber. Gavin didn’t even had time to blink before the trigger was pulled while the gun was against his temple.

He blinked awake to see Nines’ LED red as he tried to keep control of the situation. The robber was panicking, waving the gun around and screaming at Nines to keep away even as he stepped over Gavin’s body towards the android. It was quickly escalating out of control and Gavin pushed himself off the ground silently. Gently, he tapped the robber on the shoulder. The man turned and screamed, gun falling from his hand before crumpling to the ground in a dead faint.

“Heh, amateur,” Gavin snickered and turned to get the man into the recovery position.

“I don’t understand,” Nines’ LED was circling red.

“Nothing to understand,” Gavin shrugged.

“But I saw the bullet blast through your skull. It severed your medulla. You were dead.”

“Do I look dead to you now? Let’s just leave this little illogical turn of events out of our reports and not worry about it, okay?”

Nines’ LED cycled red a few more turns before he nodded and called for back-up to come clean up after them. Obediently, like Gavin had told him, he didn’t mention the incident in his report.

Life (and death) went on like that. Gavin chased a suspect, cornered them and got shot for his efforts. It hurt like an absolute bitch but wasn’t anywhere near fatal. His radio, however, had picked up on the fact that shots were fired and he was cursing up a storm.

“Nothing to worry about,” he gritted his teeth and another shot ripped through his shoulder.

Tired of it all, Gavin shot the suspect in the shoulder and the knee with his good arm. The radio on his shoulder was going wild. He needed to turn it off before the suspect started screaming.

“Send Nines,” he managed to utter into the microphone before he picked the receptor off his shoulder and crunched it under his foot. Next, he sneered at the suspect and turned the gun on himself.

Nines was just rounding the corner as Gavin sat up, body whole and pain free once more. Opposite him, the suspect was slumped against the wall, pale and shaking.

“He’s a feisty one,” Gavin tipped his head towards the guy, “but a crap shot.”

He tried not to delight in Nines’ eye roll and muttered “of course” as he helped cuff the suspect and took him away.

Of course, now that Nines knew his dirty little secret, it made things a little easier. The android wasn’t quite as protective with Gavin as Connor was of Hank for example. It didn’t mean that Gavin couldn’t be an irresponsible jerk at times. Such as the moment they were scouting a warehouse and a mountain of junk came toppling down. Gavin had just about enough time to push Nines out of harm’s way before it wall crashed down on him.

It hurt. Gavin wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had tears in his eyes as he blinked off the shock of it all. Machinery parts littered the ground and a fire had started to lick the base of the pile. No doubt it had been a trap, set to destroy Nines. Nobody had expected Gavin to play the self-sacrificial role and push Nines out of the way.

The only problem was that he was trapped. Nines lifted machinery off him as best he could but there was no denying that things were not looking good. Especially when the lower half of his leg resembled more of a 2D pancake caricature rather than a body part.

“Ah fuck,” Gavin grunted. “Nines, do me a favour buddy. Put me out of my misery.”

Nines stared at him. His gun was still in its holster, Gavin’s lost somewhere in the rubble.

“I will get you out and get you help.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Gavin shook his head. “How do you expect me to be a detective like this? Come on, you know there’ a cheat’s way out of this. Or at least give me your gun. Please?”

Nines’ hand fell to the holster. He wasn’t designed for this. A red wall prevented him from drawing his gun. He couldn’t harm life without good reason and he couldn’t assist Gavin in hurting himself either.

“Nines, pal, I’d rather you shot me than be burnt to a crisp in the fire that’s spreading. So just hurry the phck up.”

Orders clashed with directives and his whole world was red. Slowly, Nines approached Gavin, gun in a hand which shook as it defied basic programming.

“Thanks Nines,” Gavin laid back and had the gall to smile up at him as Nines pulled the trigger.

Minutes later, the two of them stumbled out on shaky legs. Back-up was arriving, along with the fire services. From one of the police cars, Hank and Connor emerged. They took one look at Gavin, covered in soot and dust while Nines stared wide eyed at them.

“About fucking time,” Hank grumbled as Connor offered a quiet “I’m glad you’re finally awake” to Nines.

“What do you mean?” Gavin looked affronted.

“Nothing, nothing,” Hank waved him off. “Young punk think’s he’s so special and unique,” he turned to Connor, voice not at all low and he wasn’t hiding his knowing smirk either, “yet he thinks I’ve always just always been lucky when playing Russian Roulette.”

[kaibagirl007]

Come Undone 5/6

( the fifth part of a mini side-fic series to accompany my RP with @dragontamer05 )

Despite the fact that Seto now found himself blocked from his descendant’s mind, he still continued to linger close by Kaiba, just on the off-chance that the barrier between them might weaken and crumble. So far though, it was seeming to be permanent. But things weren’t at a complete loss and waste of his time. Now that the blue-eyes white dragon was aware of his existence, she visited him from time to time and eased his loneliness.  

‘I do not like him,’ Seto stated bluntly to Blue as he sat nestled against her with his eyes firmly fixated on the one-eyed man conversing with his descendant as they seated out in the open air beside the grand chateau. ‘He reminds me of Aknadin and should not be trusted.’

Blue raised her head from where she lay and craned her neck to stare at the pharaoh snuggled right beside her wing. She purred softly as she spoke to him in her dragon tongue.

‘Yes, I am perfectly aware of who he is. It does not alter my opinion of him, especially since I am also aware of the things he has done.’

Annoyed by Seto’s response, Blue’s purr morphed into a growl as she scold him for his bias and used the tip of her tail to knock the Khepresh from his head.

‘You are more understanding and forgiving than I…’ Seto commented as he leant over to retrieve his headpiece. He then looked at the blue-eyes and gave a sly smirk, ’… yet you refuse to extend that forgiveness towards my descendant. That makes YOU biased too.’

Sparks crackled at the back of dragon’s throat as she warbled in protest before turning away and slumping her head back down on to the ground where it had been just moments before. It wasn’t that she refused to forgive her duelist for having hurt her human, but the fact that he had so much to atone for and had done virtually nothing since the brief cafe encounter to even suggest he had intentions of doing such. Only when he’d start to show progress would she reevaluate her stance on him and his worthiness to be granted forgiveness. 

Blue heaved a sigh as she watched the wine drain from Kaiba’s glass as he listened to Pegasus talk. She tried to stay optimistic for the three human souls and her own that were tangled in destiny’s thread, but even she was dubious about what the final outcome would be. Her duelist had strayed so far from the light and into darkness that she herself was having trouble keeping him in her sight. Would he ever return? She hoped so; her human longed for him… and so did she.

“… as you can see, Kaiba Corporation is in perfectly capable hands-“

“My company shouldn’t be in HIS hands, it should be in MINE!” Kaiba growled angrily as the other finished informing him of his company’s current performance under his brother’s control. He slammed the empty wine glass down on the table beside them and immediately began to pour more of the deep red liquid into it.

Pegasus’ eye wandered over the gaunt,- almost skeletal,- frame of the young man seated before him. He felt a sense of guilt for having stood by and allowed the deterioration to occur when he could have perhaps stepped in sooner and prevented it. Had he done so though, he knew there would have been no trust left between them that had finally seen the other approach him on his own accord. “Your brother did what he did because he’s concerned about you, as are a lot of people, myself included.” 

“Pfft, the board’s only concern is how my ‘image’ reflects on the company.”

“You can hardly blame them. Some of the parasites you choose to mingle with these days don’t exactly have glowing reputations themselves.”

“Interesting choice of word you used to describe my ‘friends’,” The snide remark was made as Kaiba raised the wine to his lips once more.

“Those people aren’t your friends. They’re socialites, sycophants and call girls; not a single one of them cares about your wellbeing.” Pegasus failed to hold back the scornful remark. He knew it could have potentially put an end to the conversation,- and quite possibly their friendship if the other was in a defensive mood,- but he felt it needed to be said.

“Meh, the feeling’s mutual,” Kaiba lazily shrugged and continued drinking. He’d lost count of just how many glasses of wine he’d had, but knew for a fact he was nearing the end of a third bottle between them, of which he’d easily drank two on his own. Maybe that was why he currently felt so loose and relaxed as he admitted, “I don’t ‘love’ or ‘care’ for anyone these days… not even myself…”

Without saying a word, Pegasus reached for his own wine glass and sipped as he patiently waited to see if the other would continue to talk without prompt. Surprisingly, he did.

“I’ve developed an unhealthy lifestyle of parties and debauchery that gets worse each day…” Kaiba stared down into his drink as he spoke. Why? Why was he so suddenly okay with disclosing this? Was it the wine? Had he finally reached the point where he was past caring? Or was confiding with Pegasus,- a man who had seen him at both his best and worse,- actually something that he was willing to do? 

“My self-respect is shot… With no regard for my life, I will fly and drive recklessly, sometimes even under the influence… Drinking myself unconscious has become a regular occurrence… I engage in hollow sex with women whose names and faces I don’t even remember… I’ve experimented with a range of drugs and have OD’d more than once…” 

Regret was detectable in Kaiba’s voice as he spoke, and Pegasus fought hard to keep a frown from his face as he listened. I should have acted sooner instead of waiting for you to come to me.

There was a brief pause, and Kaiba struggled to keep his mouth neutral as it repeatedly twitched into a frown as he spoke, “Last week, I… I felt so desolate, I… I played Russian Roulette, in the hope I’d… end it all.” With his darkest confession voiced, he then downplayed it as he continued with a psychopathic look in his eye. “But lo and behold, I’m still here. I’m invincible. A walking god amongst men. I can do whatever the fuck I want without fear of consequences…-“ 

’I told you; that is NOT how destiny works!’ Seto yelled, only to startle Blue whose wings fidgeted and sent his Khepresh tumbling to the ground for a second time.

“Mhmm, and what if death lay just around the corner for you? Then what?” Pegasus asked. He’d been given an unnerving peek at the other’s current state of mind which was proving to be more unstable than he and Mokuba had first suspected. 

Then I’d welcome it with open arms. Kaiba’s thought was dark, honest, and something he dare not say aloud. He looked Pegasus straight in the eye, “I’m not afraid of dying if that’s what you’re asking.”

Pegasus calmly set his glass down, and breathed in as he placed interlocked hands on the top knee of his crossed legs. He was about to address the elephant in the room that had caused such desolation, and did so in a casual manner. “The thought of living without Kisara still terrifies you, doesn’t it?”

“No.” Kaiba’s response was curt and his expression close to outrage.

“I’ve been where you are. I know the pain of losing someone you love beyond all things imaginable. That girl has left a void in your heart that you feel will never heal-“

“Shut up! You know NOTHING!”

Despite the hostility being shown, Pegasus remained calm. “I lost the woman I love too. I know exactly-“

“NO, YOU DON’T!!” Kaiba screamed. His eyes were wild and face creased with distress. “You lost Cecelia because she died. You didn’t chase her away because you were too fucking proud to tell her how you felt!”

“And how do you feel?” Pegasus felt his heart break from seeing his friend so anguished. There was some consolation though; he hadn’t been pushed away like others who had tried to help before him.

“I didn’t tell her, so what makes you think I’d tell you?”

Okay, maybe he’d spoken too soon. The other’s defences were clearly raising again. Pegasus knew he had to tread carefully from now on. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Seto. You’re in a dark place right now, one you may feel is impossible to escape. Well I assure you, it’s not. Let me help you, or at least stop this destructive behaviour of yours. You fill your life with people, substances, and rituals that aren’t good for you. If you’re not careful, your brother is going to be burying you way before your time is due-“

“I told you, I’m NOT afraid of dying!” Kaiba stated as he rose to his feet from where he sat.

Pegasus copied his actions. “What about leaving Mokuba alone? Are you afraid of that?”

“He’s proven himself capable of managing Kaiba Corp, I’m sure he can deal with my death if it were to happen, which it won’t. I’m not going to purposely end my life. But I’m not going to stop living it how I choose either… Just back off.”

There was a long moment of silence as the two men stared each other down. Both Seto and Blue watched with bated breath.

“Very well… “ Pegasus conceded and calmly sat back down. “Shall I have Croquet bring you another bottle?”

“No. I’m done here.” Kaiba stated before turning to head towards his jet and leave. Only a couple of steps were taken before he froze, looked back over his shoulder and calmly spoke, “Continue to watch over Mokuba for me. He needs guidance that I’m not capable of providing.”

“You sell yourself short, my boy.” A sad smile accompanied Pegasus’ words. He remained where he sat and make no effort to intervene as Kaiba then continued on his way.

‘Is that it?’ Seto was disappointed with the outcome. He got up from Blue’s side, and whilst she ran towards his descendant, he approached the one-eyed man. ‘Go after him!’

Pegasus fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. He wanted nothing more than to prevent the other from leaving but knew that his hands were tied. At least he was safe in the knowledge that the younger man’s ability to fly wouldn’t be hindered by the vast amount of wine consumed, which had in fact been non-alcoholic. He reached for his own drink once more.

‘If you value the friendship you supposedly share, you would stop him from leaving!’ Seto continued to scold even though he was aware that he could not be seen or heard. ‘He is your associate; your partner; your ally; your brother in arms! For the love of Ra, HELP HIM!!’

Crash!

Pegasus and Seto both stared and blinked at the wine glass that had smashed on the ground. “Clumsy me,” the former tittered whilst the latter couldn’t help but wonder if his outburst had startled the one-eyed man into losing grip on the drink.

“I’ll get that Mr Pegasus, sir.”

“It’s fine Croquet, I’ll see to it,” he waved his hand at the loyal servant hurrying towards him, before reaching down to pick up the main body of the fallen glassware. “Fetch me a mop… and my phone; I left it on charge.”

“Yes, sir.”

Blue let loose a roar as Seto watched Pegasus fish out the remaining shards from the dark red puddle. The aircraft was readying to take-off, which meant they both had to leave too. 

‘If,- by some miracle,- you can hear me, please save my descendant from himself… I saddled him with far too much.’ the pharaoh spoke remorsefully before disappearing to rejoin the white dragon. 

The sound of the jet’s engines rumbled in the distance. Pegasus raised his head and looked towards the sound’s source to see not one, but two Blue Eyes take to the sky. He watched them climb higher amongst the clouds and vowed: I will do my damnedest to save that boy.

“Your phone, Mr Pegasus, sir.” 

“Thank you, Croquet.” Pegasus took the handset offered to him and allowed the other to take over with the wine clean-up. No time was wasted as he swiped through his contacts and made a call to Mokuba.

“Hey Pegasus! Did Seto keep his word and visit you like he said he was gonna?”

“He did. In fact he’s just left.“

“How is he?”

“Infuriatingly stubborn.” Pegasus simpered at hearing the optimism in the young teen’s voice. The bond may have frayed between the two brothers, but this one’s hope was keeping it from breaking completely. He just prayed it would hold out for a while longer. His lips relaxed and his tone turned sombre, “My dear Mokuba, there is something we need to discuss. However, I have a feeling you are not going to like what I have to say…”

[dragonnan]

Mega Multi-Fandom Rec List Part 2

DISCLAIMER!!!

I will miss certain people; probably a lot of people. It’s inevitable.  3 reasons.  I haven’t read every fic in every fandom.  2, I haven’t managed to bookmark every fic out there.  3, I am not involved with every fandom.  The fandoms in my list are the ones I personally and currently am involved in which have enough fics to rec that they are worth the time linking below.

So bear with me.

4-ish - I tend to cling pretty tight to both hurt/comfort (whump) as well as canon.  I’m not hugely into romance save for maybe 1 or two couples and, again, I lean hard on whatever is either canon or VERY strongly implied OTP.  I don’t rec porn (nothing against it I just avoid it when it comes to anything that might have an underage audience).

Finally, anything I rec that may contain triggering subject matter I will tag as well as I can so heed the warnings where appropriate!

Note: I have also included some of my work below.  For a complete collection of my stories you can find them at the following links:   dragonnan’s Psych fics dragonnan’s A03 fics

Sherlock (BBC)

Gen 

Redemption by sgam76 The Knight Shift by dragonnan for tunes84  5 Times Sherlock wanted his big brother to carry him + 1 time he wouldn't admit it by SailorChibi Scenes From Recovery by maryagrawatson for Boton Cold Comfort by maryagrawatson An Act Of Rebellion by afteriwake for GlowingMechanicalHeart, Dreamin  The Precipice by takethesky87 Road to Freedom by Ariane_DeVere English as a Foreign Language by standbygo  Proportionate Response by babydrache Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus by CaitlinFairchild (Warning: Rape/non-con)  Recorded by Morgan_Stuart (Warnings: Torture, Implied Character Deaths)  I've Got You Now by ready_to_kick_some_ass No Flowers by GraceHolmes  An Interesting Puzzle by awanderingbard When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart  Idle Gossip by Arnie  Extraction by Basser Flinch by Salr323  Trust Thy Doctor by becausemycroft (Unfinished)  Of Monsters by Basser Dangerous Mould by Benfan  Never That Easy by Kerkerian No Incentive So Great by thisprettywren You Were Never Supposed To Leave by Ballykissangel (Character Death - Not Sherlock or John)  No More Miracles by whitchry9 (Major Character Death)  Appearances Can Be Deceiving by SailorChibi (Warning: Rape/non-con)  The Most Awful Thing by whitchry9 Wrong by impulsereader Triage by Morgan_Stuart Lessons Learned by Morgan_Stuart Croatia-Water-Blue by hollyesque (Warning: Rape/non-con)  Hopeless Wanderer by Cyane (orphan_account) The Triple Bluff by SarahKnight  Something Broken by GhyllWyne Fractured by radculas Constantly by thesignsofserbia  In Arduis Fidelis by Salr323 Rule of Law by thesignsofserbia  Sound of Silence by SailorChibi Never Have I Ever by awanderingbard  Lost for Words by awanderingbard Fallout by Salr323 Following On by Loopy456 Oubliette by CherryBlossomTide Unforgettable by tenderly_wicked A Cure for the Final Problem by Saasan (Major Character Death)  He's Had This Nightmare Before by mirroredLife  he Holiday by Scriblit (Warning: Rape/non-con)  Paying Back by Dayja  Harmless Things by J_Baillier  It takes John Watson to save your life. by Sparkypip  Comatose by Sparkypip Everything Will Be Okay by great_big_worm (Warning: Rape/non-con)  Seek Out The Unworthy by squire  The Shallow End by hollyesque War Crimes by mossologist (Warning: Rape/non-con)  Illation by hollyesque Crushing Fears by Amaya_Ramiel Pressure by Tammany Unthinkable by Lindentreeisle (Captainblue) (Warning: Rape/non-con)  A Smelly Affair by dioscureantwins for Yitzock  Do Your Research by dioscureantwins for CherryBlossomTide (Child Abuse)  Proxy by CherryBlossomTide (Child Abuse)  Pipe Song by Mistress_Siana (Warning: Rape/non-con | Violence)  It's Not The Violin by copperbadge The Tiger and the Shark by dragonnan (Warning: Rape/non-con) 

Sherlolly

Down and Shaking When I Think I Lose by satin_doll for OhAine, GettingOverGreta A New Project by rachel614 (orphan_account)  Sherlollipops - Til Death by MizJoely Everything and More by rachel614 (orphan_account) I've Learned to Lose You by Ukthxbye for Writingwife83 These Scars We Kiss by rachel614 (orphan_account) (Warning: Includes discussions of self-harm)  A Vicious Motivator by darnedchild The Shadow of What Will Be by versarilaetus The Last Meal by theSapphireSky The Healing of Sherlock Holmes by honeycakes  Insomnia by katiebuttercup Chasing Paradise by Chibiness87 It's My Party by Mouse9 The Adventure of the Left Shoe by Jolie_Black TMI (Too Much Information) by GarudaDreamsOfRain  Handsome In Her Eyes by afteriwake Little Bird by Caffeine_faerie The Price of Sentiment by Mouse9 The Admirer by howterrifying  Dial M for Molly by dragonnan 

More Sherlolly recs can be found HERE

Series

Scheherezade ‘verse, A Felicitous Natal Celebration, and With a Little Help From My Friends Series’ by sgam76:   Sherlock is home, he and John are returning to cases, and all’s right with the world–right? But a series of minor mishaps and injuries makes two things very clear to his friends and family: first, Sherlock’s time away wasn’t the grand adventure everyone has assumed it was; and second, that time has left Sherlock with a legacy that’s bleeding into his life today. Sherlock is Not Okay, and it’s not going away. 

NOTE: These stories are not written in the order with which they occur.  They are all part of the same universe and dovetail amongst one another.  You can read them in whatever order you which - though I strongly advise beginning with Scheherezade as nothing else will quite make sense without that history.

A Felicitous Natal Celebration - Past fic

A Felicitous Natal Celebration Excursions and Alarums First Things First All Along the Watchtower TLS and the Sloane Ranger Happy Not Happy Christmas

Scheherezade ‘verse Scheherezade   A Pox on All Your Houses  Interlude in December - Note: Part 3 is a chapter taken from the org fic and posted as a one-shot.   [PodFic] Scheherezade by DefinitelyNotPie, sgam76   A Long Walk Down a Dusty Road  These Old Shades  Larceny, Lawlessness and Opium - Note: These events take place sometime during the ORG story

With a Little Help From My Friends - future fic With a Little Help From My Friends  Aftermath 

Reset Universe Series by maryagrawatson: After dealing with the Moriarty threat, Sherlock was still sent on his mission... Eleven Months Reset (Warning: Rape/non-con referenced as well as Attempted Rape)  Cracked

Sherlock Holmes (RDJ Movies)

Alive by Sharmain The Case Of The Drowning Evidence by StarkRogers Ability, Neutralized by PeaceHeather Buried Alive by drjohnhwatson Identifying the Ripper by WayWardWonderer (More of a Classic Doyle Style)  Eloquence in Motion by donutsweeper Damage by ancalime8301 A Most Belligerent Patient by kayliemalinza Associations by ancalime8301 A Matter of Precaution by moogsthewriter

Psych

Never could get the hang of Tuesdays by Liviapenn Snail Mail Sucks - Next Time, Send Me a Text by SydneyWoo I See Your Hubris...and I'll Raise You Fifty by SydneyWoo And Then The World Blew Up by SydneyWoo (Minor Character Death) Shall We Play a Game? by JR88fan Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch! by PapayaK This is not the Karma You're Looking For by eideann The Ticket by Kirei Latent by InsaneTrollLogic (Major Character Death) Exposed by Syncop8ed Rhythm

A Very Risky Proposition by aakira Chest Pains by AmeliaReddy The Last Man At The End Of The World by watanuki_sama A Whisper to the Living by Xparrot (Major Character Death)  Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth by dragonnan (Warnings for Blood/Gore and Horror)  You Say My Brain's Bleeding Like It's a Bad Thing by Kansas42 Stuck in an Office with You by PeterPanic Hostage Taking 101 by Syncop8ed Rhythm  The Shassiter Friendship Club by NoirCat  Suffer the Night by dragonnan  Giving Shelter to Midnight Ramblers by JR88fan Happy Halloween by NoirCat  Fathers and Sons Felonious and Otherwise by Okapi  Grace by Silence  Statement Time by NoirCat   I Don't Know How to Say Goodbye by Psychrulz (Major Character Death)  Or Is It Trust? by windscryer (Crossover w/ SPN)  Father Figures by Kirei  You Give Me Fever by dragonnan  Shawn and the Friendly Neighborhood Stalker by Nixa Jane I Would Do Anything for Love; Even That by dragonnan for mortma1984  Lingering Chill by s_c (Major Character Death)  Metal So Strong Doesn't Last Very Long by Sky Pad  An Almost World by Oldach Dreaming (Major Character Death)  Obsession by dragonnan Through Moonbeams Softly by brightblue All Nighter by dragonnan  The Seed of Doubt by Collegekid06  The Five Stages of Henry Spencer by Collegekid06   101. Dead Man's Float by MusicalLuna  Fun in the Woods with Buzz McNabb by centipede  Don't Eat the Crab by Raych Better Off Decapitated by dragonnan 

More Psych recs can be found HERE

Series

Fractures Series by VampKira: (Warnings for Child Abuse, Rape/Incest, Violent Disturbing Imagery, and Horror)  The fun filled saga of the Spencer men’s warped family dynamic and dragging their friends, co-workers, and acquaintances along for the ride.  Fractures (Part 1)  Corpses, Curses, and Cops, Oh My (Part 2)  Scars (Part 3) (Incomplete)  

What’s The Chance? Series by lapsus_calami:  The bad guy from their recent case forces Shawn and Gus to play a game of Russian Roulette. It’s about as fun as it sounds. Which is to say not fun at all.  There’s A Sixteen Percent Chance That At Least One Of Us Is Going To Die (Part 1)  There's A Thirty Two Percent Chance That At Least One Of Us Will Need Therapy (Part 2) 

A *Really* Dangerous Mind Series by Psychrulz:  Everyone knows Shawn has a tendency to get distracted. When he misses a clue and a murderer almost gets away, Chief Vick has had enough. She orders Shawn to get help and fix the problem- or else. Naturally, nothing with Shawn is ever that simple. When the fix turns out to be worse than the problem, the lives of his entire team are put in danger.  A Bitter Pill (Part 1)  Pitch Black (Part 2) 

Moonlighting Series by Redwolffclaw:  Psych/Moonlight Crossover Series - Shawn meets vampire Private Eye Mick St. John in this series where Shawn has to learn to live unlife as a newly turned vampire. Who knew being a vampire, psychic, consultant, detective, boyfriend, and best friend would be so hard?  No Such Thing As Psychics (Part 1)  12:04 Wake Up Call (Part 1.5)  Out of the Past, and Into the Fire (Part 2)  Love Lasts Forever, but Sanity Has a Shelf Life (Part 3)  Click- To Catch A Vampire (Part 4)  Hard To Believe It Will Be Okay Series by silverluna:  Carlton Lassiter is having a horribly bad day, and it’s only going to get worse.  Hard To Believe It Will Be Okay (Part 1)  Where Do We Go From Here? (Part 2)  The Spencers of Santa Barbara Series by JR88fan :  When Uncle Jack comes to town, one thing is certain: life won’t be boring.  This particular visit is no exception.  Throw in some video games, a treasure hunt, a case of benitoite gemstones worth millions, and a pair of sinister brothers who will stop at nothing to acquire those gemstones, and the Spencer men quickly find themselves in over their heads.  The Spencers of Santa Barbara: The Curse of Benitoite (Part 1)  Jack and Jill Went Up the Hill (Part 2) 

A Road Through Abbadon Series by Am_I_Zombie: (Warnings for Major Character Deaths, Violent Disturbing Imagery, and Horror)  Shawn Spencer works out his place in a rapidly changing environment. It is apocalypse season after all.  A Road Through Abbadon (Part 1)  A Funny Thing Happened On the Way Into Hell (Part 2)  A Rest Stop at the Edge of Madness (Part 3) (incomplete) 

Choose It Or Lose It Series by Texasartchick:  Lassiter’s dream comes true when he accidentally obtains indisputable evidence that Shawn is a fake.  Fortunately for Shawn and Gus, Lassie doesn’t know what he has yet, sparking a desperate race against time.   Can our dynamic duo sneak the evidence away from Lassiter before he discovers that he literally holds control over the future of Psych - and possibly Shawn’s freedom - in his hands?  Choose It Or Lose It (Part 1)  It Can Happen (Part 2)  Stir Crazy (Part 3)  This Stalker Thing Kind Of Sucks (Part 4)  The Ties That Bind (Part 5)  Helmets Not Included (Part 6)  The Spencer Syndrome (Part 7)  A Very BAMF! Lassie Fic (Part 8)  Night of the Rodentia (Part 9) (Unfinished) 

Doctor Who

Creature Fear by goodbye2pisces (Tenth Doctor)  Xeno by Laurawrzz (Tenth Doctor) Then My Mind Went Dark by the_magpie (Tenth Doctor) (Warning: Rape/non-con)  How to Live by misscam (Tenth Doctor)  A Coward Dies A Thousand Times by sashet (Tenth Doctor)  let the echo shake it all apart by sequence_fairy (Tenth Doctor) (Warning: Rape/non-con)  Time With Mother by Laurawrzz (Tenth Doctor)  A Step in the Right Direction by flutterflap (Tenth Doctor)  Voiceless by Veldeia (Tenth Doctor)  Beneath the Midnight Sky by HiddenTreasures for badwolfrun (Tenth Doctor)  Novi et Veteris by IuvenesCor (Twelfth Doctor)  Spinach Shock by Goldy, mrv3000 (Tenth Doctor)  Were He Not Romeo Called by Butterfly (Tenth Doctor)  The Devil You Know by rosa_acicularis (Duplicate Tenth Doctor)  Canvassing the Limits of Domesticity by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77) (Duplicate Tenth Doctor)  The Difference by themuslimbarbie (Duplicate Tenth Doctor)  The Old Have Bad Dreams by kashinoha (Eleventh Doctor)  Transfixion by tardisjournal (Eleventh Doctor)  Family Emergency by sahiya (Eleventh Doctor)  Vacation, Interrupted by shyday (Tenth Doctor)  What Is Essential by eve11 (Eleventh Doctor)  Let Her Under Your Skin, Into Your Heart by starlingnight (Eleventh Doctor)  Balance of Power by eve11 (Eleventh Doctor) 

Part 1: MCU - Iron Man, Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, Avengers

[narrowland]

Drunks Jack McCarthy We died of pneumonia in furnished rooms where they found us three days later when somebody complained about the smell. We died against bridge abutments and nobody knew if it was suicide and we probably didn't know either except in the sense that it was always suicide. We died in hospitals, our stomachs huge, distended and there was nothing they could do. We died in cells, never knowing whether we were guilty or not. We went to priests, they gave us pledges, they told us to pray, they told us to go and sin no more, but go. We tried and we died. We died of overdoses, we died in bed (but usually not the Big Bed) We died in straitjackets, in the DT's seeing God knows what, creeping skittering slithering shuffling things. And you know what the worst thing was? The worst thing was that nobody ever believed how hard we tried. We went to doctors and they gave us stuff to take that would make us sick when we drank on the principle of so crazy, it just might work, I guess, or maybe they just shook their heads and sent us to places like Dropkick Murphy's. And when we got out we were hooked on paraldehyde or maybe we lied to the doctors and they told us not to drink so much, just drink like me. And we tried, and we died. We drowned in our own vomit or choked on it, our broken jaws wired shut. We died playing Russian roulette and people thought we'd lost, but we knew better. We died under the hoofs of horses, under the wheels of vehicles, under the knives and boot heels of our brother drunks. We died in shame. And you know what was even worse, was that we couldn't believe it ourselves, that we had tried. We figured we just thought we tried and we died believing that we hadn't tried, believing that we didn't know what it meant to try. When we were desperate enough or hopeful or deluded or embattled enough to go for help we went to people with letters after their names and prayed that they might have read the right books that had the right words in them, never suspecting the terrifying truth, that the right words, as simple as they were, had not been written yet. We died falling off girders on high buildings, because of course ironworkers drink, of course they do. We died with a shotgun in our mouth, or jumping off a bridge, and everybody knew it was suicide. We died under the Southeast Expressway, with our hands tied behind us and a bullet in the back of our head, because this time the people that we disappointed were the wrong people. We died in convulsions, or of "insult to the brain", we died incontinent, and in disgrace, abandoned . If we were women, we died degraded, because women have so much more to live up to. We tried and we died and nobody cried. And the very worst thing was that for every one of us that died, there were another hundred of us, or another thousand, who wished that we could die, who went to sleep praying we would not have to wake up because what we were enduring was intolerable and we knew in our hearts it wasn't ever gonna change. One day in a hospital room in New York City, one of us had what the books call a transforming spiritual experience, and he said to himself "I've got it ." (no, you haven't you've only got part of it) " and I have to share it." (now you've ALMOST got it) and he kept trying to give it away, but we couldn't hear it. We tried and we died. We died of one last cigarette, the comfort of its glowing in the dark. We passed out and the bed caught fire. They said we suffocated before our body burned, they said we never felt a thing , that was the best way maybe that we died, except sometimes we took our family with us. And the man in New York was so sure he had it, he tried to love us into sobriety, but that didn't work either, love confuses drunks and he tried and we still died. One after another we got his hopes up and we broke his heart, Because that's what we do. And the worst thing was that every time we thought we knew what the worst thing was something happened that was worse. Until a day came in a hotel lobby and it wasn't in Rome, or Jerusalem, Or Mecca or even Dublin, or South Boston, it was in Akron, Ohio, for Christ's sake. A day came when the man said I have to find a drunk because I need him As much as he needs me (NOW you've got it). And the transmission line, after all those years, was open, the transmission line was open. And now we don't go to priests, and we don't go to doctors and people with letters after their names. We come to people who have been there, we come to each other. We come to try and we don't have to die.........

[hanorganaas]

So I am doing a bit of an emotional dump because these past few days have been an emotional roller coster and in a good way.  And I just need to let it all out so forgive me for the rambling

The fact I can finally say I am moving out to a community that could finally help me thrive I couldn’t at home and actually fit in with the people is just a wild concept for me, because I thought would be stuck in a house or thrown somewhere because my mom couldn’t handle the fact i was standing up to her where I had more control over me.

I am happy about this, and though my ADHD puts me on the opposite end of the spectrum I can still fit in with people of all levels, some who you cant even tell have developmental disabilities and have a group of caring friends who wont judge me for my little stims and quirks while still talking about Star Wars and Marvel which I hadnt had since College. 

Most of all. I admit I have so much Anger towards my mother, she provided but still said such horrible and emotionally abusive things to me which fucked me up beyond control. It didn’t help because she is definitely emotionally unwell so it was like Russian Roulette being around her because you had to be careful what you did and what you said, especially since she craved attention, to look good in front of her friends. But......I know how much hating a parent who has been mentally unwell, eats you alive because I done it with my Father.

My father was an alcoholic, also suffers from Bipolar. Last year he became Sober with my brother who became an Alcoholic at 26 because of the same demons he went through with my family. But because of the Alcoholism and untreated Bipolar, he was just as ignorant and hurtful, (he still a bit of a dumbass but is trying). I was angry he wasn’t there. I was angry he didn’t understand me. I ignored him for years. I hung up on him many times. But the anger was so corrosive, it made me sick and physically ill. But when he became Sober this year, and we went through the death of my Nanny, while there is still anger I need to sort out which he knows about, I started to be less hateful and started to hang out with him more, and though there are still things that annoy the fuck out of me, I have been enjoying his company as long as its in small doses, and you know what just taking away the hatred I had in my heart for him and being willing to accept him for who he is despite the turbulant past, was the best thing that I ever did. Not having that Hatred just took away the heaviness and the black cloud. 

When my mom is not stressed and not having her violent mood swings where you have to be nice to her or she mentally degrades you, I enjoy her company. She still thinks my fandom world is fucking nuts, but sometimes shes willing to engage and learn more, and we have good laughs and talks. Its when she calls me selfish, accuses me of things, tries to put thoughts in my head, is when this anger and this hatred comes out. And the fact I live, well soon lived, with it and having these episodes last for days, like she says shes okay but this afternoon she was freaking out about not getting me to one of the things in the program on time and then crying in the car out of no where on the way home. And just like with my dad this Anger has made me sick, coursing to my body, affecting me to the point where I am winded and my body is on fire. 

And you know what yes, some of the things she said and did to me makes her underserving of my love. But I dont want to hate her. Its going to continue a three generation vicious cycle that started with my grandma probably being bitter at her mother for the same thing mom is bitter her basically and is continuing with me and if I dont break it, its going to probably continue with my daughter, whenever i have her because i definitely want kids someday. 

I want nothing more to have that understanding I do with my father than I do with my mother.  I cannot fix what happened. I can’t fix her sickness and her inablity to cope healthily instead rip people apart cause she is unconfident. But I can learn to love her. If I could love Carrie Fisher who I mannifested as my mother figure because of the issues I had despite the fact Carrie had issues and demons and did some unsavory things because of it, then I could love my mother too. But the only way is I can do this is to do the same thing I did with my father, not live with her and see her in small doses. So I can enjoy her and not wonder how long its gonna last. And living away is finally going to take the last thing has been a terrible load on my back, that has affected how i react and see myself and made me so damn defensive. 

Thats why I am so happy about this. I know if I heal things with my mother, its going to heal in a lot of ways too. I may not heal from my anxiety and ADHD which is gonna be with me my whole life and I am okay with it, stanning Carrie Fisher that me that, but I am going to learn to accept my mother for who she is, I am going to learn that not everyone is going to scrutinize everything I do, or mock me. I am going  finally know what it means to thrive even though I live conditions that knock me down sometimes. 

And for that....for the first time in my life, I dont feel hopeless. Going back to school for Data Analytics finally showed me what I wanted to do with my life and knew that even if it takes long to follow my dreams, I know I have direction. Healing my relationship with my Dad gives me hope I can forgive my mom too and I will break the vicious cycle of hatred. Being in this Community gives me hope I will get that acceptance and being able to thrive.

Hell, if I managed to meet Carrie Fisher and had her tell me how awesome I am before we lost her, got all those beautiful times and probably more with Ming Na Wen the woman I aspire to be, and fucking randomly met Harrison Ford the man I stan to hell in airport when I had no plans for that for that to happen, theres ony good things on the horizion right?

Anyway if you read though this dump which I cried three damn times writing thank you and I thank you for letting me space out this dump

[malriver]

Temptation Series 1: Touching

http://www.fireflyfans.net/bluesun.aspx?bid=4269

"Circumstances conspire to tempt a very patient River to finally make her move."

No touching but she wants to so much that it causes a momentary blindness to everything but the craving for sensation. Completeness. She wants to touch him, feel him, move him, consume every part of who he is so she can claim it, own it, and make him her own. He doesn't know it yet, does not fathom that he is the anchor that keeps her sane. Not Simon. Not the drugs. Nor even the welcome sensation of home thrumming beneath her bare feet as she walks in time to the rythym of Serenity's reassuring heart. She loves them all because they are all part of him.

In her quest River lets her mind shift gears, become the focus of thoughts honed to laser sharpness. An accurate beam that has a razor edge beyond anything Jayne can achieve with his knives or Simon with his scapel nor the Captain with his harsh and oft' times ascerbic wit. There is nothing so sharp or deadly about Kaylee but the brightness of her smile can sometimes cut through solid steel and there is not a heart aboard that is immune to it. The Preacher is all hidden angles and traps, covered in a softness which is borrowed not owned though the division has grown narrower over time. Eyes showing so many levels of meaning behind his purpose. Wanting to be simple the Preacher had stepped out into the 'verse not knowing that his addition to it made everything more complicated not less. A sharp mind but no mathematician. And Zoe, a weapon in every plane of her body, every part of the ordered core of her. The hard glittering adamantine line that not even the Devil has the nerve to cross. Then there is Wash, the antidote to all that ails his wife. The choice between light and shadow made in a heartbeat that will last forever.

River thinks often about Inara. The teasing tension between her and the Captain a flow of pain filled almost-caresses that would be all kinds of wrong if allowed to flourish to its' epogee. The heat of prickly friendship is less destructive though even that has grown into something softer, something both can live with and cherish. River does not worry about Inara knowing the Companion is all too aware of every decision she makes and that her own harsh reality has an edge to it as bitter as anything the Captain could endure. River does not want to endure. To sit on the sidelines. Be excluded from that which her mind and body craves even as her soul aches to fill all the incomplete places she sees in this cornucopia of moving parts that is the ship's crew. Serenity. She is his and he is hers and all that live within that amalgum of blood and steel sings of home to her. A silent passion that hits her hardest when the blood heats with want and need and all the things she cannot confide to her brother still less confess on the altar of an alternative God.

Six years. She cannot believe they have been together on this boat for so long and yet it feels as if they have always been here. It is where they belong. The realisation draws a happy smile on her pale face, eyes shining with thousands of memory fragments pieced together in a mind that never sleeps. They are moving about on their separate journeys yet all travel together. She can feel each and every one of them as they sail through the Black. Wash and Zoe lost the first baby but a new one is coming. Simon doesn't know yet, the egg is still dodging the sperm but she can feel it, follow the course of the possibility as the couple reach their zenith. Warm damp heat exciting the passion between them as the bliss of coitus removes the tension of another day. River didn't really interfere, just nudged a little to get the zygot home. Sanctuary. Baby will be safe now. But no touching.

Simon and Kaylee married in the Spring two years ago. It amazes River that Kaylee waited so long until her brother finally got off the fence and made his move. Would have served him right if Kaylee had moved on but it wouldn't have been fair to her friend. Kaylee deserved better, now she had it and River was relieved and pleased. They were parts that fitted together, also when Kaylee was happy the Captain was happy too. Parent, brother, friend, protector - so many hats for one head to wear yet only one heart. Battered, traumatised but true. River had set her sights on Mal long ago, little by little inching her way towards her goal. Careful not to frighten him off or have her brother drag her kicking and screaming from the only home she wanted to a life on the run away from the metal walls that held her safe and the arms she craved. No touching. She knew what it was to love from afar but each year in the Black that distance was closing.

It had occurred fairly early on to River that her brother could not cure her. As brilliant as Simon was he could not undo what had been done to her and the evolving cocktail of drugs became a rollercoaster ride that owed more to Russian roulette than reasoned clinical research. So River sat down one night while all the ship was sleeping and did the math. Then she had carefully and slowly ordered the broken pieces of her psyche back into their former roles, acting out responses that would lead Simon to believe she was healing. Getting better. And she was. But not from the drugs. People had broken her and only people could heal her. Not any people but the ones on this ship. As she improved Simon cut back on the drugs he was giving her, his heart soaring with hope and joy at the remission. Until finally, at last, she was not only drug free but coherent. Simon did not need to know that what she had been like before was kept inside so that the echo of who she was could be with them. Yet sometimes, when she looked at the Captain, it was as if he knew. A small smile would grace her lips, a gentle sad one flicker on his own. Only her promise stopped her from dancing over to him and letting her lips tell his what her heart longed to say.

Now they were out on a job. Mal, Zoe, Jayne and the Shepherd. Simon and Kaylee were laughing and teasing each other when Simon realised his sister had been awfully quiet for longer than was normal. "River?"

River did not want to shift her focus. She frowned slightly. "Trouble."

Simon's heart missed a beat. Kaylee touched his arm to reassure him but the doctor was tensing up, as if all River's efforts to appear normal were slipping away in one moment. It hurt him to think he might have to medicate her all over again. "River, how do you feel?"

She turned her head. "Double crossed. The friend who wasn't a friend."

"What ya sayin', River? You sayin' the Cap'n an' the others were betrayed?"

"Worse than turning the other cheek."

Kaylee and Simon exchanged a look. River waited to see if they would get what she was saying but they just stared blankly.

"Shot him."

Then River sprang to her feet and left, her feet slapping quietly on the deck plates. For a moment Simon and Kaylee did not speak then Kaylee sat in Simon's lap and gave him a gentle kiss.

"And she was getting so much better." Lamented a sad Simon.

Kaylee said nothing, her arms around her husband. A flicker of worry burning in the back of her mind while inwardly she prayed that River was wrong and that this was not a sign of the dementia they feared was returning. But neither of them knew it had never left.

River only went to her bunk to retrieve her boots. Quickly donning them she then went to Jayne's bunk and made a careful search for the correct armament. The Captain's rule in tatters in her mind when his life was in the balance. She wasn't a child any more but a woman with a mind of her own. Time he found out first hand but first she had to save him. Only one rule would be broken. For six years there had been no touching.

[mantrabay]

Hitchiker From Another World.

Saturday an overarching day that's both conduit and shelter for souls in transition.

Thoughts of the more disturbing kind may intrude.

Little did I know what lay ahead.

All these scenarios flashed across my mind as the wheels of my car screeched to a halt.

Shafts of radiant sunlight revealed a light green leaf entwined placard.

An obscure but apocryphal question -

Going somewhere?

A hitchhiker appeared with the most expressive eyes.

Like shining windows admitting the rush of a golden dawn.

Her rippling nuanced voice spoke.

“Hello, I'm Lelia. Life is a series of stops

and strange encounters.

A journey of some kind.”

Thought-provoking stuff!

She extended her supple silken right hand.

“Hop in.

I'm Joshua King. Going anywhere in particular?"

I enquired archly after the ritual handshake.

"Besides going somewhere or nowhere!”

I continued.

"In one sense I'm not sure.

But there is this place we should all go to.

You'll know what I mean later.”

Lelia mysteriously.

"Not to worry.

Travel is therapy for me."

What made me, Joshua King, say that?

The mind can be overpopulated with figments.

Frustrated figments waiting for that frenzied freedom dash.

This svelte lady wearing an azure padded jacket and sea blue denims glided gracefully into my car.

Hatha yoga asana entry.

My pinstripe attire seemed conventional

on a philosophical journey man.

"Love the aroma ....air freshener.

Orchard in a vehicle.

Symbol of attempted purge."

The hitchhiker's dulcet voice drooping.

Redolent of metaphysics classes I had to abandon.

I was naive enough to believe that attending these courses would fix my “issues.”

More than just momentary bugs.

They couldn't be spray canned away.

I was, however, adept at avoiding their resolution.

My “issues” were other "selves.”

I called them timid, anxious, fidgety ,scrupulous withdrawn.

“What’s more I chat to them.

These chats I call the "whispers.”

Will Lelia notice?”

My twin brother, Jonah, a twin in “every sense” could point to my tendency to flee.

We spotted each other’s flaws with aplomb.

Banter between mirror images of real selves!

Tortured twin psyches.

Jonah was an integral part of these "whispers" too!

All these thoughts were doing hula hoops in my head.

In the process peculiarities surfaced with Lelia..

"I'm Lelia again. Don't forget. You probably won't.

This place I alluded to is but a distance from here.

Distance is a gulf whose magnitude is shaped by its smoothness of passage.

Or the fate that awaits one.

My destination is another world altogether."

Lelia’s cryptic crossword setter.remark.

Tapping my shoulder she extended her hand again.

Her fingers and thumb spatially arranged with tutored

stillness.

Was that repetition a neurotic oddity or a symptom of a deeper malaise?

I nodded to the said hand gesture.

We both brushed this bizarre incident off.

The spot on asides and the strict avoidance of that verbal litter referred to as small talk suggested we should.

Pauses. They did surface periodically.

The silence was then punctuated by a sudden remark.

"All those conifers. Look at how they reach out to the sky.”

One of Lelia’s poetic observations.

“They seem so close yet isolated.

There is something almost within their grasp.

Almost.”

Lelia nonplussed.

“See the adjoining fields. The green is but a cover. They are as neighbours in a high rise flat.

One could say they are both connected and disconnected at the same time.”

Lelia resting her case.

“I'm a bit of a writer and maths researcher.”

I proffered.

"Recluses some say.

Oh, I didn't mean you

Necessarily.”

Ouch, said my shattered Id.

Lelia, archer of the scar inflicting jibe.

Bow and arrow baroness of stinging broadsides.

This offshoot to our conversation was infused with a wry allusion.

Insight on a whim.

We both laughed at the incongruity of a conversation that had become elliptical in form.

Tangents cropped up as impetus to the other person's willingness to reveal themselves.

Lelia didn't exactly volunteer her vocation but left clues.

“You didn't say what you did?

Student ...essayist ...author."

Me sounding Lelia out.

“Oh no children….dashing right across the road in front of us.

Squealing with delight. Whoops of innocent joy? They are sticking out their tongues now!”

Hair-raising moment I hadn't anticipated.

I spied Lelia sticking her tongue out at those reckless varmints.

She stopped the minute I noticed.

“Children …….sometimes you have to act like a kid when dealing with kids."

Straight and to the point from this hitchhiker.

She now resumed the thread of an earlier topic.

“Work ….you asked about work.

I sort of work and play with the mind.

Play act too.”

A retort of sudoku like complexity.

As I digested lelia’s response it dawned on me how much like people my "selves”were.

Even when driving I "dialogued” those various aspects.

“You've an interesting face. The face is like a map, I say.

Heard you mutter about your "selves."

Leslie being cheeky.

Silence as challenge started to creep in.

Russian roulette without rules.

“Watch your driving, there." Lelia being brash.

Her different voices now somersaulting.

“Very quite aren't we, Josh?"

Josh mark you!

Grilling me like an interrogator trying to crack a stubborn suspect.

Without a word of warning Lelia raised her voice and got into a tantrum.

“What's the matter ….lost something?”

Joshua said anxiously.

A curious search resembling a scrum ensued.

Then more silence.

I craned my neck and spotted an uncanny regression.

Lelia talking to herself in a child-like manner and then changing tack.

“Don't worry. Found what I was looking for.”

Another void.

A tense lull. A little lockjaw appears when the juice runs out of discourse.

I squinted in the mirror once more.

This time Lelia was talking to her palm.

Staring vacantly at it she kept repeating the name Linda.

Lelia continued oblivious to what I saw or might be thinking.

She hummed this strange lullaby.

Suddenly my "selves" surfaced in an uncontrollable flurry.

I tried to suppress them but failed abysmally.

The "whispers and selves" started to have a life of their own.

This car is getting a bit crowded.

It's being converted into a train with fantasy passengers on board.

The sort one hears late at night hurtling through the countryside as dim lights flicker.

Both inside and outside this vehicle a tumult of events was took place.

Out of the blue the rain poured heavily.

“The gods or the elements must be cross or something.” Lelia opined.

“Let’s get introduced to my playmate in a palm.

Linda, these are Joshua’s true other selves.”

Lelia chuckling.

A comic situation arose where I changed my voice for each of my "selves" by way of introduction.

My great powers of concentration helped while driving.

"Pleased to meet you, Linda.”

Lelia altered her voice when teasing all my "selves."

She had some experience as a ventriloquist.

But Lelia was having this hypnotic effect too.

I was being manipulated.

One by one my highly personalised complexes were being extracted and subject to a rigorous interrogation.

This was some hitchhiker.

Was this car journey now becoming a high rent farce or a mock therapy session from an amateur shrink?

The rain continued to lash and my other "selves" felt like the last sting of a dying wasp.

A certain lightness ensued.

Almost as if my “aspects” were floating away.

For the first time my "other selves“ didn't seem to have this grip on me.

But deep down I knew I wanted to keep a little of them.

Although they were a burden they did have their positive aspects.

“Jonah … he still bugs doesn't he.

He’s almost like one of those "other selves!"

The "whispers" I heard earlier … I've a very delicate ear.

Those under the breath "whispers" gave the game away.

The names and complex relations between them."

Lelia now probing very deeply.

The wind howled and seafront rain waves splashed across my bonnet

There was a warped synchronicity.

As my complexes receded so did the thunderous weather.

They were working in tandem.

“Wash it all away. Come on, come on

See me waving my wand.”

Lelia chanted.

The Exorcist film had nothing on this.

Before his very eyes Joshua's "reticence" and the other "selves" were disappearing virtually.

Against the backdrop of all this inner and outer cacophony Lelia kept looking out the window.

Was that this home she mentioned earlier getting closer as Joshua was

"going home” to himself?

“Windows are amazing.

They show us the world but sometimes screen us from it.”

Lelia notes.

fog from the car window.

“Trees and branches swaying. Clouds darkening.

Thickening ominously.

Exodus of pedestrians seeking answers.”

Her voice penetrating Joshua.

“Am I being cleansed of what they call inner demons?"

Joshua panic stricken.

"This other worldly person has me spellbound.

There's a chessboard in this moving vehicle.

A total stranger has me in her palm.” .

Lelia assumed various postures.

As Joshua was the driver she didn't want to send him to sleep.

Lelia's voice was either hypnotist's drone or excited sports commentator.

Joshua could never forget this encounter.

“Don't forget Jonah too. Joshua wherever he might be.”

Her sinister tone rising.

“The name on your credit card.

I found it earlier when searching for my script.

Joshua Jonah king.”

Joshua confessed he was an only child.

“Am I a prisoner?.

Must button my lip.

I'm being freed and incarcerated by this person, the likes of whom I've never met before.”

Joshua felt a final therapeutic process coursing through him.

Very little was left of his "selves,” whispers.”

Joshua drove through a stoically preserved area whose haunting nature was blurred by this encounter.

“Terrible to have all these half-worlds revealed with such clinical accuracy.”

Joshua to himself.

Lelia's voice gradually lost its domineering tone.

At this point by accident or design the tense atmosphere eased.

“You are probably wondering where this is all going to end.

Maybe I have whispers, Jonah's and selves to face too.”

A casual Lelia random comment.

On this occasion a composite of adult confidence and infantile charm.

“Oh here we are, this place.”

She stated.

Joshua had undergone some sea change catharsis.

“Should I thank Lelia or what?

Jonah my make-believe twin. Don't really need him do I?”

Joshua pondered.

“Back to earth my dear.

This is where we part.”

Lelia again.

“Better change the name on that credit card.

It could bug your company!”

Lelia cackles..

“See that building..

It's called “Another World School of Acting.”

Acting is therapy..

Therapy in every sense!

They are auditioning for a play

“Inside The Split Mind." She said.

"Wonder will I get the part?”

Lelia looked away sadly.

“Off I go. Enjoy yourself or yourselves or whatever is left of them.”

Lelia laughing through her tears.

“Better get out of here fast, Josh.” Joshua to himself.

“I'm beginning to sound like her.” Joshua now driving at top speed.

“It will be awhile before I offer someone a lift again.

I suppose I should be grateful to her.” Joshua’s face now a deep red.

"Well, Jonah, I guess I'm going to miss you and all those "issues" in a way.

But at least I can be myself …. sort of.”

Short story by mantrabay copyright protected.

Completion of earlier submission

[lost-in-men-of-letters-bunker]

World's Collide: Chapter 2

A/N: Hey everybody welcome to Chapter 2 of World's Collide! Remember if you need to just look in my tags and search by the name of the title and you will find the chapters to this series!

*Language warning*

Chapter 2: It Can't Get Worst...

Samantha's POV

By the time we got to the Bunker, “Cas” had disappeared from the car. The Winchesters and I walked down the stairs and my eyes widened in wonder. A TV show could not do this place justice. It just seemed so much bigger than I previously thought.

“Wow, this place is amazing!”

Sam and Dean chuckled and we entered the library. As a book nerd I was just in Heaven at this library.

We all sat down at the table and I said, “I know a lot about myths and folklore. If you ever need help with research of any kind I can help. Plus, I’ve learned a thing or two from watching the show.” Sam said, “We’ll keep that in mind, it’s appreciated.” Dean then got up and said, “I can show you a room where you can stay so you can adjust around here.” I nodded and followed Dean down a hallway. This place was a fucking maze how do they navigate it so damn well!? Dean opened a door and turned on a light. The room was relatively big, definitely bigger than the one I had back home. It had a desk and bookshelf with some lorebooks on it.

“Mine and Sam’s room is just a four doors down the hall. If you need anything we’ll be in the library for awhile.”

“Great thanks. I’m uh also gonna need some clothes.”

“Don’t worry, Sam and I will take you out tomorrow and introduce you to Jody, Claire, and Alex. They’ll take you shopping and fix that.”

I smiled, “Great thanks, Dean.”

“No problem kiddo. I’ll leave ya to get adjusted.”

He left the room shutting the door. I pulled my phone out and then my charger from my back pocket and plugged my phone in. It was my only link back to home…I didn’t want to lose it if for some reason I never get home.

“Hello, Samantha.”

I jumped and nearly fell off the bed. I looked over at “Cas” okay remain calm try to act like you don’t know anything about him.

“Geez Castiel, don’t you know not to sneak up on people like that?!”

“You can’t fool me kid…So drop the little act.”

Well so much for that…

“Alright Lucifer, what the hell do you want?”

“I want you to do me a little favor. Find out or just tell me where the Hand of God is before telling the boys out there.”

“Hmmm pass.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Crispy Wings.”

I need to learn to keep my sassy mouth shut sometimes. I am sassing the last person I should be sassing right now. He clearly was getting pissed at me now.

“Samantha, I’m not playing any games here. You clearly know more than you let on.”

I shrugged and said, “Yes no maybe so? Why would I tell you. You can’t do anything to me cause if you do Sam and Dean will find out something is wrong and then your little secret is not so secret anymore, asshat.” I swore his eyes flashed red then he got in my face and growled, “You have any idea who you are talking to?”

“Whiny winged suck-up with daddy issues sounds about right.” and I smirked at him.

He gave me a death glare and then said, “Okay…this is how you wanna play.” In the blink of an eye he teleported out of the room. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in. I just told off Lucifer…and lived. That was the most reckless and stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life. But it felt good to freaking tell him off! “Hey Samantha, can you come down here?” said Sam from the library. I yelled back, “Yeah, hang on!” I left the room shutting the door and managed to not get lost on the way to the library. I saw Casifer with them, I wanted to glare but couldn’t risk the boys noticing. I sat down and said, “You wanted to see me because…”

Dean asked, “Exactly how much about us do you know?”

I said, “Like stated before, ever since you went to Stanford and picked up Sam to go find your Dad.”

Casifer said, “It seems to me you know more than just that.”

Mentally I was thinking, Okay Crispy Wings...I see what you’re trying to do and you’re gonna pay for this!

Sam asked, “Well…do you know more than we do?”

The looks I was getting from the brothers was not helping. They paid more attention to me than “Cas” and he was smirking I know he heard what I just said in my mind.

“Samantha…” Dean said.

I sighed and said, “Okay okay…Yes I know more than I am letting on. For me with what’s going on is Season 11 of currently a Season 13 show.” Both of then yelled "WHAT!?" simultaneously while I cringed and gave Casifer a look. Which they didn’t seem to notice. Casifer was getting a kick out of this.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Asked Dean sounding a little hurt. I said, “Well…You guy’s have heard of the whole Butterfly Effect right?” Sam said, "Yeah we have." Dean shook his head and said "What does that have to do with this?" I sighed and said, “Listen if I told you something about your future. It could have drastic changes to your timeline. Stuff that should happen might not and vice versa. Basically it’s like playing Russian Roulette with time and space if I told you anything.”

Sam said, “Like when Balthazar kept the Titanic from sinking.”

I nodded, “And when Anna went back in time to kill your mom and dad so you two couldn’t be born therefore no true vessels for Michael and Lucifer.”

Dean nodded his head and said, “Ah yeah I get it the whole Back to the Future type deal.”

“Cas” then said, “But you do know where a Hand of God is yes?”

Well I did…that required going back in time though and in all honesty it wasn’t going to work out. The boys were giving me expecting looks dammit it’s hard to lie to them!

“Well…yeah I do.”

Mentally I said, Oh screw you!

“Cas” said, “Then tell us so we can get it. The sooner Amara is stopped the more people that would be saved.” Dean said, “He’s got a point, Samantha. You don’t have to tell us anything else if you don’t want to but…Maybe tell us where this Hand of God is?” I was so done and had enough with Lucifer’s game. He was not turning me into his little pawn so I was gonna make this backfire on him really bad. I said, “You know what, I will start telling you guys stuff. First things first…That’s not Cas.”

“What?!” yelled Sam

I got up as they warily moved away from him. I said, “It’s Lucifer, Cas said yes to him that day when you were in Hell talking to Lucifer about how to stop Amara!” The boy’s eyes widened and Lucifer gave me a such a glare that if looks could kill I would be in Hell by now.

"Why you little brat!"

"He threatened me in my room and tried to get me to tell him where the next Hand of God is before telling you two!"

Dean glared and said, "You son of a bitch!"

Lucifer dropped the Castiel act and really started to act like himself now. He gave a nervous smile and said, "Cat's out."

He then sent Sam and Dean flying into chairs and tables. He then had me pinned by my throat a few inches off the ground against one of the pillars.

"Now tell me what I want to know, Samantha."

I struggled to breath and stuttered out, "B-Bite me!"

He sighed annoyed, "Spoken like a Winchester. Hmmm let's see here..."

He dropped me and I fell to the ground and gasped for air and coughed. He stood in front me and then snapped his fingers and I started to cough horribly and then proceeded to cough up blood. The pain was excruciating and I certainly never felt anything like it before.

"Now, you either tell me or you cough up blood until you die. I'm being more than generous here Samantha."

I coughed and spit blood out and said, "S-Screw y-you!"

I needed to keep his focus on me so the boys could do something.

"You are really trying my patience."

"It's a g-gift. I-I'm just good a-at pissing y-you off!"

"HEY DOUCHEBAG!" yelled Dean. I glanced over as Lucifer rolled his eyes and turned to look at Dean.

"Oh what is it now you-"

Dean had his bloody hand over a banishing sigel. He then smirked and slammed his hand on it sending Lucifer out of the Bunker in a bright flash of light. I stopped coughing up blood and slowly tried to stand up but wobbled around not really standing.

"Samantha!"

Sam and Dean ran over to me and helped me over to the nearest chair. I wiped the blood from my mouth. "Are you two okay?"

"Kid we're fine. You were the one coughing up blood." said Dean. I couldn't help it I was always a little more caring about others rather than myself if something happened and even if I got hurt. I waved it off and said, "I-I'll be fine. Listen I do know where this Hand of God is but those won't stop Amara. But I know how this ends. How you can get on the right track to stopping her. You'll need some people though..."

Sam asked "Okay, who do we need?"

"Well we do need Lucifer, Rowena, Crowley, quite a few Angels, some demons, a few witches, and uh...God."

"God?! No way nope." said Dean.

I don't blame him though...with everything that's happened that he'd lose faith. "I said yeah and the new Prophet of the Lord named Donatello. You see Amara is suppose to kidnap Lucifer to get God's attention. You guys have to save him cause obviously Cas is still in there."

"But...God? Seriously?" asked Dean.

I said, "Yes, seriously. Now we need to-"

Sam's POV

"Dude where did she go!?" yelled Dean.

Then it hit me and I got worried, "Dean...I think Amara just took her, cause she sees her as a threat. We need to find this new Prophet and fast!"

Samantha's POV

I didn't even finish my sentence when I found myself in a place I did not want to be...

"So you must be Samantha."

I whipped around and came face to face with Amara. She must think I'm a threat to her bond with Dean and her plans. After all I did know how she could be stopped and she didn't obviously know full details. But I was terrified now...Sam and Dean wouldn't be rescuing me any minute now.

"A-And you must be Amara..."

"I brought you here because I want information from you. You're also a threat to my plans."

"L-Listen, I know what your brother did upset you. Y-You have every right to be mad."

She aggressively yelled, "Why can't I read your mind?!"

I froze where I stood. How could she not? Lucifer did but he clearly didn't get far in information wise so...

"My brother must like you then...You're a favorite. In that case I'll just torture you until you give the information I want."

My eyes widen in fear, this was not suppose to happen I'm not suppose to be the one here at all...

A/N: I leave you all with that cliffhanger for this chapter. As always let me know if you want to be tagged in this story so you don't miss out on any of the new chapters or updates about the series!

The Taglist so far...

@devoted-to-boyking-samshine @grellaofasguard @assbutt-still-in-hell

[huntertales]

Part Two: I Need to Get Something off My Chest. (You Can’t Handle the Truth S06E06)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader investigate a series of suicides and discover the victims were being told brutal truths that drove them crazy. They find out someone is invoking the Goddess of Truth, Veritas, forcing people to be cruelly honest against their will and Dean is the next victim. With his new ability, the reader is forced to tell the truth that might change the dynamics between her and the Winchester brothers for good. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 6,130.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Dean was doing exactly what he promised; he was sitting at the table with his laptop wide open. He was doing research...just not the kind you thought he'd be doing after you left after you decided to go help Sam. Surprise, surprise. He tried to wrack his brain for any sort of proper explanation to what the hell was going on here. The sites he pulled up were all about monsters that could mimic another human being. Right down to the exact memory from a random date Dean would sometimes pull out from thin air to see if the man sitting next to him in the passenger side of the Impala was really his flesh and blood. 

He could all the tested he wanted, ask Sam all the most random questions about their childhood. And the man would pass it each time. But, still, Dean couldn't shake this eerie feeling that something was off about Sam.

The older Winchester could cross off shapeshifter off his list of suspects after the tests he forced you and Sam repeat the same drill of a pure silver knife across the skin a few hours after he came to terms that the both of you were alive. And a demon was out of the question when Dean doused the both of you in holy water and forced you to walk across a salted doorway. Again, the feeling kept nagging at him, begging for his attention. He kept hope that the Devil himself could be blamed for all this nonsense that was going on. It felt so much easier to shift the blame to him and think his dorky, sensitive little brother was still in there.

It was so much easier to believe that something else was causing Sam to act the polar opposite of what he used to be. And it explained how you and Sam magically got freed from hell. Because whatever came back sure wasn’t how he remembered his little brother, the one who was supposed to have his back.

Dean was scrolling through some information that would have been viable for the case when he was pulled away for a moment from the ringing of his phone. He looked down at the caller I.D. to see that it was your name. Inhaling a deep breath, he hit the send button, answering it like any normal conversation. “Anything from marathon man?”

“Not exactly. He hung himself in his cell before Sam and I could get to him.” You gave him a bit of an unfortunate update on how things were going. It seemed that shoving a drill into his patient's mouth  was too much guilt for him to handle. But his victim wasn’t all that innocent. “But he was definitely involved. We just got the scoop from his assistant. Let’s just say the stuff that his patient was confessing to—I’d have done way more than murder him.”

“So, root canal and Russian roulette—both of ‘em, it’s like they were cursed, right?” Dean speculated of what might be going on here. “I mean, people are just compelled to puke the truth all over ‘em?”

“Oh, getting hit with the ugly truth, you go postal? I’d call that a curse.” You muttered underneath your breath, Dean heard you scoffed quietly underneath your breath. “Do me a favor—Sam and I are going to the morgue to check out the body. Do you mind swinging by the dentist’s office see what you see? Pretty please?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Dean agreed with the plan. You thanked him for the extra help and quickly ended the call. He decided that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get out of the motel room and stretch his legs for an hour. The older Winchester skimmed the final paragraph about doppelgangers before he shut his laptop and pushed himself to his feet, deciding to get on that task before coming straight back to his research. “Only for you, sweetheart.”

+ + +

Some people were afraid of planes and clowns, others were terrified of your friendly neighborhood dentist. What started out as a normal root canal turned into a complete bloodbath. Dean stepped inside the examination room to see there was blood...everywhere. On the chair that once laid his patient, on the walls, and on the TV that was still playing the local news. Dean paid attention to the news broadcast for a split second before doing exactly what he was here for, to look for just about anything that would explain why the dentist’s patient, who also happened to be a good friend, would confess about getting the hots for his underage daughter. Dean got creeped out just thinking about it. Sometimes he couldn't feel sorry for the sucker. He got what he deserved.

A quick search of the office made a possible connection come up. It was a strange one, but it was the only one he had going for him. The power of music, bringing people together and learning the harsh truth about what people thought about them and the people they loved. Dean took a trip to “Harry's House of Horns” to have a talk with the owner when the victims had stopped here, making it the only connection he really had to go on. But his trip ended up not being a wasted effort. The owner, Harry, mentioned his rare and one-of a-kind-horn...his missing one, that was. It was a museum artifact that was nearly a thousand years old, maybe more. And it so happened to have went missing two weeks ago, right around the time Jane decided to kill herself after getting the honest truth from big sis.

It took a quick search of biblical horns into the search bar for Dean to come up with a possible theory, Gabriel's horn of truth. His theory about this being the reason why were puking up their own feelings was by how the object look a lot like the one Harry, the shop owner, said was stolen from a few weeks prior to the suicides. Dean headed back to the motel to do some digging to figure out what was going on here. He read up on some information and began to wonder if he was feeling a bit of deja vu from a case he took a few weeks prior. That smug little son of a bitch, Balthazar, was probably having some fun and selling nukes to unsuspecting morons. So, Dean did what any hunter with ties to angels would do, he did his daily prayers, hoping someone was listening.

You could say his prayers were answered. After spending days talking to himself like a moron, the big man himself finally graced Dean with his presence. But it was all for nothing. Cas burst the older Winchester's theory of a possible missing weapon when he scoured the entire earth, in the matter of a single second, only to tell the hunter that wasn't what was happening in this town. While Dean got his angel buddy around for more than three seconds, he tested his luck by pressing Cas about Sam again, hoping his fears were true. But, like what Bobby had suspected, they were nothing more than a paranoid thought of Dean’s. Cas and his siblings would have known if Lucifer decided to skip the cage. It was all about an unhealthy connection these days.

Still, it wasn’t helpful for Dean to stop feeling like a paranoid man. He needed something to explain what was going on with his brother. Dean couldn’t stomach the thought that Sam was going to be like this forever—a reckless idiot who didn’t bat an eye when the people around him were hurt. Or even cared about making moves on the woman Dean still loved when he made a bit of a confession when discussing the possibility Lisa and him were done for good. Maybe Sam always had a little bit of a crush on you. He couldn't blame the man. But even if so, there was a time when Sam understood what boundaries were.

As hunters, three people who spent practically every second on top of one another's, riding around in the same car for hours, there really wasn't such thing as boundaries. But what Dean was talking about had to more about what was right, and what was just plain wrong. There was plenty of times Sam accidentally caught you changing or had to check in injury after a nasty hunt. Both of you acted like brother and sister. He might have laughed if Dean asked him if he happened to think you were good looking. Now, he shrugged his shoulders, leaving it open for interpretation, making Dean wonder what the two of you did behind closed doors.

If Dean had to be completely honest, it bothered the hell out of him to think you and his brother might have gotten closer over the past year. But it came out of the circumstances you put yourself in. You stayed away from him because you thought it was the right thing to do to keep him safe. Dean tried to do the exact same thing with Lisa. Both of you were lost and scared, clinging onto something that made you feel one another safe when you didn't have old habits to fall back on.

Maybe you were truly and completely over him once and for all. And here Dean sat with egg on his face. Only...you kept denying it to him. The man was a lot of things, but he wasn't an idiot.

Like he didn't notice the sneaky behavior between you and Sam. The remarks muttered underneath one’s breath or lingering stares that were on more than just faces. The freaking phone call. The both of you should have known better than to try and play him like a fool. He was the master of sneaking around and hiding secrets behind people's backs. He knew something was going on. The only thing that made Dean mad was the fact that you were treating him like an idiot in this situation.

He would have to be honest with himself here. If all of his thinking had turned out to be true—if you were really in some sort of secretive relationship with Sam—it would feel as if you ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. And dumped a good amount of salt in his chest cavity for the fun of it. Maybe that was a bit over dramatic. But it was what he felt. Dean knew, in time, that he’d get over it. He tried to be happy that you and his brother were out from the cage with no carry on. Lucifer was still locked up where he should have been, you were human for once in your entire life and Cas promised to keep his ears out for anything about Sam. For the first time he was seeing some actual progress. But the only thought he could comprehend was that he needed a drink. Or five.

Dean found a little bar with barely anybody in it besides for a woman tending behind the bar, a busboy clearing off tables after a late lunch rush and a pretty girl sitting behind him nursing some fruity cocktail from the looks of it. He kept himself occupied by ordering a round of whiskey neat, the way he normally liked it and watched some hard hitting journalism. Dean threw his head back and downed the drink in one gulp, feeling the familiar warm burning sensation run through his body before it slowly disappeared.

“Another one?” Dean’s attention lingered away from his empty shot glass when the bartender pointed her finger at the drink, wondering if he wanted a refill. While it was tempting, Dean knew he had some actual research to do back at the motel. And it would require a sober mind.

“Uh, no, thanks. I’m working.” Dean declined the kind offer with a small smile. She nodded her head and tended to her clean glasses that needed drying but stayed close just in case. Dean’s cell phone went off a few moments later, and to his delight, it was you again. “Hey, what’s up?”

“All the bodies are gone.” You greeted him with an update, one that didn’t sound so good.

“What do you mean,” Dean wondered. He looked to see the bartender was stacking up some shot glasses right across from him. She’d gotten the impression that the conversation he was about to have wouldn’t be raising any red flags. “They just vanished?”

“That’s what the coroner said. But we got a lead. One of the missing bodies, she died a whole week before everybody else.” You explained to him. Dean guessed that the cause of death was by suicide, however, it seemed a little less gruesome than he expected like the rest. “Reported as a car accident, but no reason it couldn’t have been.”

“So then that would make her a patient zero, right?” He suspected.

“I’m thinking maybe. Whatever got this whole curse thing rolling started with her. Sam and I are at her place now, corner of Burnham and 159th.” You said, giving him the address so all of you could meet up again to investigate this yourselves.

“Yeah, give me ten.” Dean said. You agreed with the plan before hanging up the phone, leaving him to contemplate of cutting the fun so short. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked at the bartender. “You know what? I will have that other one.”

“I thought you were working.” She said, giving him a playful smile.

“I am working up to it.” Dean chuckled. But he wasn't finding the situation he found himself in the least bit funny. The bartender grabbed the bottle from underneath and poured him another drink. She gave him a curious look, wondering if everything was okay. "No, not really. Relationship problems. Work’s getting...complicated.”

“Don't I know a thing or two about that. And this one’s on me.” The bartender got him this round out empathy for the man from the struggles he was slowly admitting to. “Anything else I can get you?”

Dean’s lips twitched slightly from her hospitality, knowing exactly what he wanted, but she couldn't possibly help him with this. “I’d just like the freaking truth.” He whispered. It was just wishful thinking for him to be the lucky one and get something honest without having to work so hard for it. But he didn’t think anything really of it. Dean downed the shot in one swallow and let out a breath. He looked up at the bartender and raised his glass with a smile, “But I’ll settle for another one.”  

“Sometimes I think I can’t get pregnant ‘cause God knows my marriage is a sham.” The bartender must have heard all sort of stories from drunk people. You get enough liquor in someone and they just start spewing everything they ever did wrong with their lives. All their dirty secrets were open in the open. Sometimes it was easy to talk to a stranger. Dean gave the woman a shrug when she suddenly looked confused at why she just admitted something like that to him. “I mean, I’ve been snorting oxy all day...Wait. Why’d I say that?”

What she was admitting wasn’t some secret she might spill out to a close friend when everything got too hard to keep inside. And she sure wouldn't admit doing drugs in front of her customer. Dean slowly looked down at his empty glass, recollecting the cursed words that came out from his mouth. “I’m pretty sure I know.”

Dean needed to get out of here before he could hear another one of the woman’s secrets. He thanked her for her service and threw a twenty on the bar top, thinking it would cover the drinks and leave her with a hefty tip. On the way to the door, he passed the pretty woman, and while he would have given her a second look over any other day, today he couldn't be bothered. That didn't mean she stopped herself from leaning forward to take another sip of her drink and flashed him a flirty smile, show off what God didn’t give her.

“I’m sitting like this so you’ll look at my breasts.” The girl spoke up, making Dean stop dead in his tracks to look at her. She crossed her arms tighter and leaned over the table more to show off her purchase that was well worth the money. “I just bought them. I need a lot of attention.”

“Good luck with that.” Dean said, thinking the conversation was going to be done after that. He should have been heading forward to the exit, but, instead, he found himself retracting in his steps. It would be awfully rude of him to ignore such a sight. He gave her a charming smile as his eyes wandered to her chest for a split second, enjoying the sight of a woman’s body. She let out a giggle and quickly looked away in embarrassment. Dean parted ways with her, giving her a wink and headed out the door. He pulled out his phone and called Bobby, deciding to have a little fun. “Hey, anything you’re itchin’ to tell me?”

“Not, really.” Bobby said, presuming this call was only about wanting an update on his progress in finding out what was wrong with the younger Winchester. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Ah, that’s all right.” Dean mumbled. “I’m just testing a theory.”

“Well, I’m here hittin’ the books while drinking a nice glass of milk and watching ‘Tor and Dean.’” Bobby said. Dean became confused at what the man just admitted to, making him ask who the older hunter was watching again, just to be sure what he heard was right. “Tori Spelling. I’m a huge fan. Girl’s a real talent.”

“Oh, I guess it does work over the phone.” Dean noted to himself as he approached the Impala.

“You know what else? I get a pedicure once in awhile—this little Vietnamese joint.” Bobby didn’t seem to realize what kind of information he was spilling. Dean didn’t care about the crush on the washed up actress from the nineties. But what he was hearing was going to leave a mental scar no amount of alcohol in the world could make disappear. “This one gal—Nhung Phuong—her name means ‘velvet phoenix.’ Tiny thing, but the grip on her. She starts on my toes, and I feel like I’m gonna—”

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, come on, m—now I’m scarred for life.” Dean said. The image of Bobby alone getting his feet rubbed by a small woman was terrifying enough. Now it was complimented by things nobody should think about. “Thank you.”

“I never told anyone that. Why am I telling you?” Bobby asked, slowly realizing that he was spilling all sorts of private information that nobody knew of the intimidating hunter. Before the man could speculate anymore with his questions, the man found himself spilling a few more secrets. “Maybe ‘cause you’re my favorite. Well, second favorite now that I really got to know Y/N. She puts the two of you knuckleheads to shame. You should be more like her. Although, Sam's a better hunter than all of you. Lately anyway...Whoa. Why the hell am I telling you this?!”

“Because I’m cursed.” Dean explained to the man.

“Cursed?” Bobby repeated what he just heard. He lingered on the word for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of trouble the older Winchester landed himself in. It’d barely been a week since he got turned back into a human being. And here he was, jumping onto another problem he was going to have to help solve this time. “How is it that half the time you clean a mess, you end up dirty?”

Dean realized that he might not be cursed after all. He could get anyone he wanted to tell the truth straight to his face, their deepest secrets revealed. His lips stretched into a smirk when he began to think with a little more of a positive outlook. “Actually,” Dean mumbled. “This might be the best thing that’s happened to me in a while.”

“What do you mean? Dean...Dean, what damn fool move are you about to—” Bobby was slowly becoming suspicious of what the older Winchester was brewing inside that head of his. Dean didn’t reveal anything when he cut the man off, saying he needed to go. The hunter let out a sigh and agreed, only needing to get one more thing off his chest. “Okay. But did you know my first girlfriend turned out to be a—”

“No, no.” Dean quickly ended the call before things turned into a level of disturbance that would need actual therapy to get over it. He sat himself into the driver’s side of the car and stared at his phone for a few seconds. He shifted his lips left and right, contemplating for a moment if he really wanted to do this. It was an invasion of privacy. It was the wrong thing to do. But so was lying. Dean punched in your number and heard it go to voicemail a few rings later. “Y/N, it’s me. Listen, I’m on my way to you and Sam, but if you get this before then, give me a call back. There’s a few things I want to ask you two.”

+ + +

Hearing the truth from people that you loved could have brought a few people to the brink of suicide, but Dean wasn't that fragile. He was called every name in the book and knew his life was complete and utter crap, he didn't care if someone admitted they didn't like him or thought he was a complete screw up. That was fine. Because whatever he heard, there was a pretty good chance he thought about it himself at one point in his life.

Sometimes it was better to pretend the people around him were good people and they loved him. They would never do anything to hurt him. But that wasn’t true. Dean’s hunch made him realize that after the last vampire hunt, there was nothing good in his brother. Anything that came out of his mouth was a damn lie. He was acting more sneaky than the time he was hopped up on demon blood and running around with Ruby, the junkie whore. Dean just wanted the truth, he was so sick and tired of being lied to by the people that he was supposed to trust with his entire life.

He made it around to the location that you gave him a little after he promised of being here, but you weren’t in sight. Dean got himself out of the Impala and began to head inside, but the sound of his phone going off made him stop. He took out his phone and looked at the name, the one he’d been trying to get ahold of for the last week. He could feel his chest tighten up as he didn't waste a second in answering the phone, pretending like he hadn’t been calling her nonstop for the past week.

“So…I saw you called.” Lisa’s voice was calm. But Dean knew by the tone that she was trying to keep it together to have a nice, civilized conversation with the man she had opened herself up to.

“Yeah, it’s been crazy.” Dean circled around the car, hesitantly keeping this conversation going, knowing it’d be a matter of time until she brought up the elephant squished between the both of them. What he put himself into was nothing like he ever dealt with before. His consequences of that night had had stemmed far more than just leaving a scared Lisa. He hurt her son, and as the result, he had one pissed off mother to give him hell.

“Ben won’t even talk about it.” Lisa told him what she’d been dealing with since he left that night. Dean absentmindedly wandered around until he was sitting on the hood, making himself sweat even more from the warmth of the engine that was running just a few moments ago.

“Lisa, I’m sorry, but this is actually the…worst time in the universe to talk.” Dean said. He knew he sounded like a dick, but he was hoping that he could move this very important conversation when he didn’t have the ability to hear what sort of truths they were keeping. Because he knew Lisa had her own demons. Especially after how he left them. “Can we do this later?”

“You shoved my kid, Dean.” Lisa told him with an icy tone. “How about we do this now?”

Dean let out a quiet sigh, “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it?” Lisa questioned him, wanting to hear his side of the story...the truth.

“I can’t really explain.” Dean admitted to her. Even though he wanted to tell her everything about that night, about how he got turned, he knew it would do more damage than good. The line on the other went silent for a few seconds. When Lisa spoke again, he heard her voice break, like she was trying to not let herself cry. But she wasn’t the least bit sad. She was pissed.

“You want to know the truth?” Lisa asked him. Dean knew it was a matter of time until it came out. He could have ended the call here and forget about her forever, but that wasn’t the right thing to do to someone you spent an entire year with. So, he embraced himself for the worst of what was to come. “You’ve got so much buried in there, and you push it down, and you push it down. Do you honestly think that you can go through life and not freak out? Just, what, drink half a fifth a night and you’re good?”

“Hey,” Dean defended himself against her. “You knew what you signed up for.”

“Yeah. But I didn’t expect Y/N to come back. And I’m glad she’s okay. I am. But the minute she walked through that door, I knew. It was over between us.” Lisa admitted everything she’d been keeping bottled up for months. Dean could feel his heart beat faster. “I tried, Dean. But you barely made an effort to move on from her. Do you know what it feels like to be second best? To know that I wasn't the first thing you thought of and the last thing at night? All I was asking was for you to slowly open yourself up to me. I did for you. You couldn’t. Except for Y/N, probably. Hell, you would do just about anything for her, huh? You two have the most unhealthy, tangled-up, crazy relationship I’ve ever seen. Honestly, it’s disturbing.”

“Lisa,” Dean tried to explain himself, “I’m—”

“Don’t you dare cut me off. I’ve spent too long biting my tongue. Shut up and let me finish.” Lisa cut the man off, not wanting to hear a single excuse out of the man’s mouth. “I tried, Dean. I did just about everything to make you open up to me. But you didn’t even budge, you didn’t even try to let go of the past. For God’s sake, you kept a picture of her underneath the pillow! How is that healthy? You wanted so desperately to be happy. You wanted to let go of the past. But here you are. Going after someone that only destroys you. As long as Y/N’s in your life, you’re never gonna get what you really want. I know you still love her, and I’m sure she loves you back. But… she’s going to keep sending you down the wrong path that’s paved with nothing but misery.”

Dean was prepared for just about anything to come out of Lisa's mouth. He expected her to call him a monster, an alcoholic who didn't know how to love anyone. Not even himself. He could understand if she harbored some unwell feelings about you out jealousy. But not to this degree. And even what came out of Lisa's mouth took her by surprise. She inhaled a deep breath as she fell silent for a moment. “That came out way more harsher than I meant.” 

“It's not your fault.” Dean said, his voice was barely louder than a whisper. “I'm not saying don't be close to Y/N. I know the both of you are practically like family. I'm close to my sister, and I even have some exes of mine who are good friends.” Lisa said. “But if she or one of them got killed, I wouldn't bring them back from the dead! I'd move on like a normal human being.” “Okay, Lis...” Dean cut the woman off, he couldn't stomach whatever else that might come out of her mouth if given the chance. “I'm not gonna lie. Okay, me and Y/N, we...we've got a complicated relationship. No doubt. But you and Ben—”

“Me and Ben can't be in this with you.” Lisa muttered the words that the both of them knew were coming. But it still felt like a punch to the gut, even with her weak apology. “I'm sorry.”

Dean had a feeling their relationship was headed for the rocks. He would have been simply happy with the both of them agreeing to end it before it could get worse. But it was too late now. The one chance at his little moment of normalcy was gone. Just like that. Dean was now alone. He swallowed down his emotions and  slipped his phone into his pocket. Sometimes you want something really badly, like to know what someone really thinks of you. They say be careful what you wish for. And not everyone can handle the truth.

“Hey, saw you from the upstairs window.” Dean looked up from the pavement when he heard your voice ring in his ears. He could feel his mood suddenly shift into slight panic when he saw you coming his way. Your lips stretched into a smile and approached the Impala. But when you began to examine his facial expression, you slowly looked concerned. “Are you okay?” Dean let out a heavy sigh as a chuckled came out at the same time, “Define okay.”

“Being away from Sam. God, he can get so emotionally draining sometimes.” You found yourself being lured into the curse without realizing it. Dean watched as you rubbed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh of your own. Only when you realized what came out of your mouth, you slowly furrowed your brow, as if you were silently wondering why you said such a thing. But it happened just a few seconds later. “Not that you're any better.” “Where is Sam?” Dean asked you, suddenly he didn't want for you to be the one who broke the news to him. He would hate himself for ruining something. You pointed over your shoulder to the building, saying something about how he was taking a peek around the dead girl's room after grilling her roommate's friend a little too harshly. He nodded his head and tossed you the keys, leaving you to get yourself comfortable in the Impala. Dean didn't waste a second running inside and heading up the staircase, only to find his brother coming down. His brother held up what appeared to be a small jewelry box, eager to show him what was inside. But Dean didn't really care about that. “We got to talk.” “Yeah.” Sam agreed. “What's up?”

“There's a few things I want to ask you, and you're gonna tell me the truth.” Dean told his little brother as he followed him down the staircase and into the empty hallway. “Uh, yeah, Dean. Of course. What are you talking about...” Sam absentmindedly rambled on about whatever sort of questions his brother had, but when he realized what was going on here, he stopped in his tracks. “Whoa. Are you saying you're...” “I asked for the truth. And you know what? I'm getting it. So, like I said, I have a few questions for you.” Dean said. Sam quietly scoffed underneath his breath, but it'd be a matter of time until the smug little expression on his face changed. Dean decided to start off with the most important question of all. “When that vamp attacked me, why did you just stand there?” Sam let out a quiet sigh. He suddenly fell silent, not a single word came out of his mouth, like he was trying to keep himself from telling the truth like Dean wanted. Or he was composing the right emotions to keep the con going. “I-I didn't.” Sam slowly admitted his fault. “I froze.” “You froze.” Dean repeated his brother's answer. “You have been terminator since you got back.” “I don't know. Shock?” Sam let out a heavy sigh. He was acting guilty here, say all the right words to prove that he was telling the truth. But there was no emotion behind it. Nothing. “And then it was too late. I feel terrible about it. Believe me. Dean...I can't lie here.” “Okay. How about you answer another question of mine. It’s been bugging me for a while now. And I need to know.” Dean said, deciding there was no going back now. What had been really bugging him all this time. He swallowed, preparing himself for whatever sort of response he was going to get. It didn't matter what it was. As long as it was the truth. “When you and Y/N were hunting together, alone…did you...Did you sleep with her?” “In the same bed? Once or twice.” Sam admitted, taking his brother’s question in the wrong direction. “It was uncomfortable as hell.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Dean cut off his little brother, his voice growing harder with irritation from how this conversation was going. He let out a sigh and composed himself to say the exact question that he needed answered. For the sake of his sanity. “Did you...Did you have sex with Y/N behind my back?”

A normal reaction for a sibling to be accused of sleeping with an ex girlfriend, the mutual best friend of both parties, could have been handled a few different ways. But Sam was under some kind of supernatural oath. He

to tell the truth. Dean waited for the young man to say something. Give him those puppy dog eyes and look nothing but guilty. In a twist, the end of Sam's lips twitched into a smirk, the same way when he watched Dean get turned.   “You think...Is this what's been bothering you? You think I'd ruin my friendship with Y/N for a quick hookup? No, of course not. She’s like my sister. Just the thought creeps me out.” Sam was more surprised at the accusation as he let out a chuckle, playing along. “Dude, I would never do something like that. I know how much she still means to you. I mean, you're my brother. I'd never put your life in danger. And I wouldn't dare overstep my boundaries with Y/N—"

“Okay. Okay. Sorry. I...I thought—I thought I saw something. I...I guess I was wrong.” Dean said, apologizing for his accusations. He felt nothing but overwhelmed at his findings. He reached up a hand to rub his forehead when a dull pain began to settle in his head for what was going on here. “It’s just been a really, really bad day.”

“Hey. It’s okay.” Sam reassured his brother as he reached out and slapped him on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze for an added effect. “I got your back, all right? I always have.”

Dean nodded his head slowly. He watched as his brother gave him a smile before heading off again. The older Winchester had the ability to get anyone to speak their deepest, darkest secrets. Or whatever they wanted to know. And Sam had told it to him. Maybe his brother really did freeze up back there, maybe it was all in his head. Maybe his mind had been playing tricks on him all this time, making him believe in all these lies to convince himself of the reason why you fell out of love with him. Maybe there was no reason at all. Perhaps you had really moved on from him and you didn’t need the comfort of someone else to help mend the pain. And Sam was back from the dead with his new personality. Maybe that was the horrifying truth that Dean needed to realize.

[Next Part]

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