#but i thought being violently interrogated by friends would be pretty twisted

[kagomechronicles]

Are you taking scenarios? If so, I'd like a Levi/Kagome scenario where Levi is forced to come to terms with how much he cares for her. But with a TWIST! Could you also make it somewhat tragic and grim (without either of them dying)? Idk if this makes sense, but think of a super twisted situation to place them in. And make it clear that Levi has fallen in love with her. Thank you ~ I love your writing!

Oh my… Oh oh my… This is something…. I’ll do my best!For some background, Kagome will be a member of Levi’s Squad, and this takes place before Annie is discovered to be the Female Titan. (This could be a weird spin off of my fic Where I Belong) 

Also, I didn’t edit this at all. (WARNING: THIS MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME)

“Oi! Where the hell is she?” Levi’s dark and threatening voice startled the two lower-ranked scouts that guarded the dungeon area.

“C-Captain!” They both turned to salute him, trembling and nervous as he closed the distance, “I- uh… We’re under strict orders not to divulge any information to anyone, including you.”

Levi leaned in close, eyes narrowing in on both soldiers, “Is that so? Well, it’s quite unfortunate for you that I don’t seem to give a damn about your orders. Tell me where she is or I will kick the answers out of both of you. Your pick.”

Both of them visibly gulped before pointing down the hall. “Last cell on the right.” One piped up after a few seconds.

The captain sped in that direction, though not before turning back and telling those poor men to get the fuck out of here, to which they immediately obliged. He was annoyed. No, he was absolutely furious about what he had heard. He had seen that everyone was going insane trying to figure out the identity of the Female Titan and possible allies, like some sort of sick obsession that clouded their minds, but he never expected that this would happen. His burning rage was practically boiling his blood and he was sure his skin would be hot to the touch right about now. 

Though, nothing would have prepared him for what he’d see when he walked into that cell.

Kagome Higurashi stood there, shoulders hunched over like she was about to fall, but her wrists were chained above her head to keep her up. There was a blindfold that covered her eyes as if to keep her even further in the dark about her own detainment, like the shadowy darkness in the cell wasn’t enough. 

But more than that, as he looked down at her clothes, a typical white button up and tan pants, he noticed that they were all torn and stained with a brown-crimson, which he could only assume was dried up blood. Her dried up blood. Levi swallowed harshly at that realization. And, with further examination, he realized that the same colors seemed to be painted on bits of her skin as well, especially on her limp hands.

“Please…” Her voice squeaked out like it was taking all of her energy, “No more. I swear, I don’t know anything…”

He walked closer to her. When her mouth was closed, she looked like she was practically dead. He would have assumed that if he hadn’t detected the faintest rise and fall of her chest.

“I can’t take it anymore.” She whispered again. 

And neither could he. He couldn’t stand that, right now, she thought he was going to hurt her. Of course, she couldn’t see who he was, but hearing her beg him like that still made him feel like a monster. And he was no stranger to human torture. He had numbed himself to it because it was a necessity in some cases. But when the pleads came from her dried and tired lips, his stomach dropped and he felt absolutely sick. 

With one quick movement, he ripped her blindfold off of her and watched as she blinked her eyes in astonishment, her vision adjusting as she looked around the cell before landing her gaze on him.

“L-Levi…” It was mumbled at first as though she was asking herself if he was even real right now. And then, her eyes widened and she gasped, “Levi! You have to listen to me. I don’t know anything.”

“I know you don’t, Kagome.” He huffed, slowly raising his hand and gently wiping away some of the dirt and grime on her cheek with his thumb.

“You do? You believe me?” Her brows were turned upward as she seemed to have to catch her breath after each sentence. Exhausted. That was the only way he could think to describe it.

“Tch. I’m not an idiot, Kagome. If you were a damn enemy, I would have figured that out a long time ago.” He asserted, and the woman let out a breath of relief.

“…They don’t believe me, though. Hange, Moblit, Miche, even Erwin. They keep saying that I’m working with the Female Titan.” Kagome eyes glazed over as her body trembled, “And I can’t do it anymore. I can’t take another one of their interrogations, Levi. It’s too much.”

“What did they do?” He asked, trying to keep his patience despite his own growing desperation to know. Not that anyone would be able to tell as his demeanor remained stoic.

“Hit me. Whipped me. Broke all of my fingers. All while screaming for information that I don’t have.” She hissed out, “Next, they will rip out my fingernails. I can’t go through with that…” She took inhaled shakily, “…If you can’t save me, could you kill me?”

His breath hitched in his throat at that request. And he continued to stare with his unreadable, yet focused expression before forcing out a quiet ‘yes’.

But he didn’t want to let it get that far. He had lost almost every member of his squad so far besides her and Eren. And that made her the second-in-command because of her skills and kill count. He didn’t want to lose that asset. With the Scout Regiment’s high death rate, they couldn’t afford to lose such a promising soldier. 

Or at least, that was his rationale. He tried to reason with himself that he was only getting so damn worked up about her pain because he knew she was innocent, on top of being absolutely valuable. That had to be the explanation. And yet, he couldn’t stop staring into her, meeting her gaze, swallowing her whole and wondering if this was going to be the last time. Wondering if anyone would ever have eyes like hers or if she was some once in a lifetime sort of experience. 

“Oi, Levi! Back away from her!” Another voice echoed into the cell, and Levi quickly turned to see Hange and Miche standing in the doorway, “She is a suspect. We have to interrogate her as such without letting any emotion get in the way.” Miche was confident with that assertion, and Hange seemed to stand by it.

“Is that why you didn’t tell me that you arrested her? You were just gonna interrogate a member of my squad, then act like you hadn’t seen her all damn day? Tch. Pathetic. Of course I’d find out.” He stood up, grateful that he had been wearing his ODM gear. “I’m not going anywhere without her. It’s not her fault you’re all too obsessed with the Female Titan to use your shitty brains. She’s obviously not involved in this.”

“We have reason to believe she is.” Hange countered.

“Yeah, I heard about that little tip you jackasses got. What? Some anonymous note connecting Kagome’s vague past to some psychotic Titan shifter?” The captain began gripping the handles of his blades tightly, both still in their metal sheathes. “That’s what you’re torturing her based on? There’s been no real evidence against her, fucking shitheads. And I’m not letting you touch her, again.”

The room was tense, thick air almost unbreathable. No one seemed to be backing down, and the dark-haired man began to wonder if he really was going to have to kill Kagome here and now.

“Levi, we can’t let her go until we’re completely certain that she’s innocent.” Hange maintained, though the fact that she was currently dressed in a white apron with latex gloves. It was clear the plan wasn’t just to hold her in this cell.

“Then, I’ll watch over her until then. I could handle it better than you, shitty four-eyes. And way better than that fucking tree next to you.” The captain growled. He had the advantage right now, being the only one with ODM gear. Still, was he prepared to turn on his comrades and possibly the entire Scout Regiment?

He turned briefly at the sound of shackles rustling together and saw Kagome once more. And even though she was weak and scared for now, he could still see that spark inside of her. Rambunctious. Wild. And yet, so loyal and compassionate. And he knew he would be prepared to turn on anyone who dared to vilify that. She encompassed everything the world should be. And he’d be damned if he didn’t protect that.

“We can handle her, and we can do it without letting our personal feelings get in the way.” Miche barked back, “You need to leave.”

That was it. Levi pulled out one of his blades, turned, and broke the chains that held the woman in one swing. Immediately, her knees gave out and she stumbled forward before a strong arm caught her and pulled her in close. Soon, Levi had wrapped around her waist and held her to his chest, taking the majority of her weight. With his free hand, he pointed the blade at the elites blocking the exit.

“Get out of my way. I’m going to handle this.” He asserted, “Why don’t you try actually solving this shitty case instead of wasting time torturing our own people.”

Looking down, the captain noticed how she leaned into him, palms pressed against his chest as if she wanted to grip the fabric of his shirt, but couldn’t with her broken fingers. Her eyes were closed now, absolutely terrified of what the outcome may be from all of this. After all she had gone through in the Scouts, watching friends die and battling Titans, she had never once seemed to be so hopeless. He had found it annoying, initially, how optimistic and playful she managed to remain despite being a part of the most horrifying branch of the military. And he remembered wondering what it would take for her to lose all of that. Though, this situation hadn’t once entered his mind before now.

“Can you walk with me, Kagome?” He whispered to her. 

Her eyes snapped open and, with her lips sucked in between her teeth, she nodded.

“Let’s go, then.” He led her out of the cell, keeping his blade pointed at Hange and Miche. And, for good measure, shut the cell door and locked it. He knew they had the keys, but it would take them a few to unlock it. And that was all he needed to bring the woman beside him to safety.

Up and out towards the barracks they went, but it was towards his room, not hers, that he led her. He’d give Erwin an earful, or perhaps more than that sometime later on. For now, though, he would have her stay with him where he could make sure no one else got their grubby hands on her. She was too weak to fight back with all of these injuries.

“You can rest in my bed.” The captain asserted as he opened his room door. It wasn’t as if he ever slept in it anyways. 

“Thank you for believing in me.” She murmured as he helped lie her down, analyzing his features to see if he was even slightly disgusted with her grimy exterior dirtying his clean sheets. He didn’t though. He just remained blank in his expression, with just a small tinge of compassion in his silvery gaze.

He wouldn’t accept that gratitude, though, as if he was doing something worthwhile by not torturing her. He knew it in his bones that she was innocent; it was something he could feel, something he could see in her. He would trust her with his own life. And that care she had for the world deserved to be acknowledged. Because it was so goddamn precious.

Precious.

She was precious. 

Gods, he wasn’t sure when he started seeing her like that. Perhaps it was sometime during one of her witty attempts at making him laugh, or maybe it was when he saw her risk her life for even the most unknown soldiers, having a strength that was only matched by a few. Maybe it was when he saw the way she looked right at him, seeing not that unsociable, crude, disciplinarian. Instead, she saw a man. And made no assumptions, but rather let him decide who the rest of him was. 

“Fuck…” He growled to himself, too quiet for her to hear. Tch. To think I’d end up here with her. Annoying little brat.

Of course, even in his mind, he couldn’t conjure up any venom to speak on her name with. There was nothing but his instincts to watch over her until she was strong enough to protect herself, again. Which she would be, he had no doubt. And he respected that about her.

So, he watched as her eyes shut, body relaxing into his bed. Beautiful. Strong. And fucking precious.

[heytherejulietx]

him - jughead jones

read on ao3 here

↳ a / n - inspired by a prompt that i found on pinterest that was based around the idea of a trauma reveal. this is like the most angsty fic i’ve written so enjoy ajshwjsj

↳ content warnings - violence, implied violence, depictions of torture, swearing, angst, also i’m terrible at endings rip

↳ 4.6k word count

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“we got them.”

the text from jughead had caused a relieved sigh to pass her lips as she started walking towards the whyte wyrm, where the gang were. there had been someone riling up the serpents for a while; trashing their bikes, leaving threatening messages, calling the cops on them, etcetera etcetera. it had been happening for a good few weeks to a month at that point, and the serpents had all been losing hope in finding whoever it was. most if not all of the serpents thought it was an old member of the ghoulies; it wouldn’t make too much sense if it was someone else.

y/n allowed herself to breath out a relieved sigh as she opened the doors to the whyte wyrm and stepped inside. now that they had caught this guy, hopefully everything would stop. the bar was empty when she had stepped inside, and she assumed that the bar had been cleared out to keep a hold of and question the asshole. she had noticed outside that fp’s bike was nowhere to be seen, and realised that he didn’t know about what was going on. if he did, there was no way that he would have let jughead do it alone.

when she had stepped inside she could hear shouting around the back, and hugged her jacket tighter to herself as she went through the doors at the back to get to the storage room, where she realised they were holding him. she didn’t particularly like seeing her boyfriend in interrogation mode, as he barely ever shouted when she was with him, but since being in the serpents she had seen that side of him more and more. jughead didn’t scare her, shouting made her nervous, no matter who it was from.

toni was stood by the door when she got to the storage room, and she gave her friend a small smile as she approached.

“were they a ghoulie?” she asked, and toni shrugged.

“i don’t know, jughead said he thinks he recognised him but he’s not certain.” the pink-haired girl shrugged with a sigh. having someone constantly harassing the serpents had taken its toll on everyone, and y/n could see how tired they were. she hoped it all was about to end.

y/n nodded and gave toni a quick hug before she pulled the door open and stepped inside, bracing herself for whatever was about to happen. all of the boxes in the room had been shoved to one wall to make room for the chair that sat underneath the light. from where jughead was stood she couldn’t quite see the guy’s face, though she took note of the duct tape that had him bound to the chair, and was relieved that he didn’t have a chance to get violent. if he really was a ghoulie, it was a precaution that had to be taken; they were pretty well known for their violence. sweet pea leaned against the left wall and fangs was stood beside the door, and she gave the boys a small smile as she shut the door behind her again.

“who’s this?” the strained voice from the middle of the room sounded strangely familiar, but she didn’t have time to focus on it too much as a groan filled the room when jughead kicked his leg. hard.

“shut your mouth, “ he warned, and when she glanced up at him she could see his blade glinting underneath the light. “you’d better start answering our questions.”

jughead started pacing the room then, and once he was out of the way y/n could see who was in the chair. and her stomach twisted almost painfully when she met his eyes. he was staring back at her as jughead started talking again, and when she saw the sick twisted hint of a smile at the corner of his lips she wanted to throw up.

she didn’t know his name, or where he was from, or anything about him at all. all she did know was that for just over a week, she had been held at his mercy as a favour to penny peabody.

it had been just before riot night, when jughead and penny were practically at war. jughead had explained to her after everything that penny knew she was his weakness, and used it against him. although she had never seen penny when she had been held captive, she had seen his ghoulies jacket whenever he came to see her. she didn’t even know where she was being held; in an abandoned building somewhere, so that nobody would accidentally stumble across her. for eight days she had been handcuffed to an old pipe in the freezing cold room, and subjected to the worst amounts of pain she had ever experienced. when the serpents had finally found her, she spent the week after in hospital. and then fangs was shot, and then jughead was beaten within an inch of his life, and then the harassment of the gang started back up again. after everything that had happened, it had been kind of easy to move on from her own torture, as she had countless amounts of distractions to keep her from thinking of it. though stood there in front of him, with his eyes locked on her like they did when he was about to hurt her, it all came back with a painful stab in her stomach.

she had started shaking when his smile grew into a grin, and for a moment she was scared that he would hurt her again. her vision had grown blurry with unshed tears, and she barely noticed the next time jughead had yelled at the guy.

“hows it going, y/n?”

she could see all three boys tense up when the guy spoke, and a noise that resembled a strangled whimper made it out of the back of her throat. when they had saved her, she mentioned the ghoulies jacket and briefly explained that she was hurt, but she didn’t let on to the extent of it all.

and now they were about to know everything.

she could feel their eyes all on her as the trembling grew worse and the tears started slipping down her cheeks, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from him.

“excuse me?” jughead was glancing between them, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet her boyfriend’s eyes.

“long time no see-” the man cut himself off with a grunt when jughead punched him in the stomach, and she could hear him wheeze as he dragged a breath back in. she was aware of the feeling of being winded, and could almost hear her own wheeze inhales of breath from when he had kicked her into a ball against the pipe.

fangs was at her side and she knew that he was talking to her, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. it felt like her head was underwater, and the only clear thing she could hear was him.

“you’re jughead, right?” he wheezed as he looked up at her boyfriend, and her knees almost buckled when she realised what was coming. “she begged for you.”

sweet pea had pushed himself off of the wall at that point, and she watched as his blade practically touched the guy’s face. “how the fuck do you know her?”

“she must really love you, y’know,” he was still talking to jughead, and she choked back a sob as her chest heaved. “she didn’t stop begging for you, not even when i slashed her own knife across her throat.”

her hand had unconsciously lifted to rest over her neck, where a small though noticeable scar was. he had taken her knife off of her when she had tried to defend herself, and in some sick twisted metaphor he used it on her to hurt her. when she still had a fight in her, he’d cut her neck with the blade; not enough to kill her by any means, it was only a little sting. it was to serve her a reminder that he had the power to kill her if he wanted to.

her stomach dropped the next time she felt jughead’s eyes on her, because from that statement alone they all would know exactly who he was. and now they would have to know everything that happened.

“what did you just say?” jughead spoke quietly, which in a situation like that was worse than him yelling. he always got quiet before he completely lost his shit.

“i’m saying,” the guy glared up at jughead, before he glanced back at y/n, who could barely keep herself stood up. “that i’ve probably made your girlfriend scream more than you-”

jughead punched him again, and she had started shaking so much that fangs had grown concerned enough to try to guide her out of the room, though her feet had rooted to the floor and she was completely stiffened in place. she wanted nothing more than to have run home and hidden away from everyone, but she physically couldn’t move.

“you wanna know what i did to her?” he spat blood towards jughead’s shoes, and her bottom lip quivered as he looked back at her once more. “i-”

“please don’t.”

her voice was quiet, and if she was in a normal atmosphere she probably wouldn’t have even been heard. but as soon as she had spoken the room was so silent she probably could have heard a pin drop. all of them were looking at her, and fangs had started trying to guide her out of the room again, but she still couldn’t move. the guy, who still had his eyes locked on hers, leaned forwards in his seat, and at the movement it was almost natural for her to flinch back into fangs with a stumble, and he had to hold her upright when her knees had finally given out.

he had grinned at that, and even when sweet pea had yanked him back in his seat by his hair he was still grinning. “still scared? good girl-” sweet pea had placed his knife to his throat at that, and she still couldn’t meet jughead’s eyes when he had looked over at her.

“get her out of here.” jughead’s voice was thick as he had spoken, and fangs had to all but carry her towards the door. he had wrenched the door open with one hand, and just as toni had appeared with panicked questions as she helped fangs pull her out of the door, she could hear him saying to “check her leg for my work” before he grunted again with the force of another blow.

the door had shut behind them with a loud bang, and y/n sucked in a huge breath through the sobs she was still holding back. she could hear toni ask what had happened, but everything sounded muffled through the ringing in her ears. fangs was still gently holding onto her arm, but as the memories from what had happened started filling her mind and she had a vivid image of his hand on her arm instead, she flinched away so harshly from fangs that she ended up stumbling backwards into the wall.

“shit, y/n.” fangs had stepped forwards to help stable her but she flinched again, and he rooted himself to the spot.

“i need-” her voice cracked and her chest heaved again with the will to cry. “i need to go- i need to go home.”

“okay, i’ll drive you-”

“no,” she shook her head, and clamped her hand over her mouth for a moment when the nausea came flying back with the memories. only once it had passed she removed her hand to speak again. “no, i need to walk- i can’t-” her breathing had grown heavy and as she stepped backwards again she almost fell over. toni stepped towards her to help but she stepped back again, right into a chair, and had just about managed to stabilize herself before she slipped. “i’m fine.”

she could hear fangs and toni calling for her as she walked towards the exit of the bar, and her breathing only got heavier once she had pushed the doors open and got outside. the air was cold and it didn’t do anything to help what she was feeling. she had gotten over it all; the distractions provided recently helped her move on quickly, and she barely had any time to think about what had happened to her. but seeing him again just brought it all back, and it felt like the night she had been saved all over again.

fangs and toni were still calling for her, and she sped up when she could hear their footsteps following behind her, though she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings and ended up walking right into somebody. she flinched and almost stumbled backwards on her own feet, though hands on her forearms kept her upright and she looked up with a slightly relieved feeling to see that it was fp stood in front of her.

her parents went away a lot for their work, and they were away for the time that she was recovering from what had happened to her, so once she had been discharged from hospital jughead and fp had let her stay at the trailer. she had always gotten on well with fp, though in the time that she was living with them, they had gotten close, and fp was pretty much a second father figure to her. sometimes she went over to the trailer when jughead wasn’t there, and she’d spend some time with fp while she waited for him. so she trusted him, as much as she trusted the rest of the serpents. so she didn’t pull away from the older serpent as he held her upright, though she did shrink a little under his gaze as she was still trying not to cry.

“y/n?” he asked, and she could see a concerned frown appear on his face. jughead had the exact same expression when he was worried, and the thought of him in there listening to what had happened to her caused a strangled sob to escape out of her throat. fp didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug then, and as soon as he’d held her close she gripped onto his jacket and completely broke down. she could feel his palm as it gently moved over her back, and she gripped onto him even tighter. if he minded, he didn’t say anything.

she could hear him conversing with fangs and toni, a lot of “what happened” and “is she okay?”, but for the most part she tried to block out the conversation. she didn’t want to hear their explanation, or hear fp’s reaction to it all. she didn’t hear most of it, but she knew when he had found out what happened because she could feel his grip on her grow tighter, more protective. it reminded her of jughead again and she just sobbed harder.

she didn’t know when their conversation had ended, but soon enough she could feel fp move and his arm had moved around her back, tucking her into his side as he lead her across the parking lot. he was talking to her but she couldn’t quite hear him as she continued crying, so she just stumbled along beside him until they had reached his truck. she was glad he didn’t have his bike instead. y/n watched as fp unlocked the door before he helped her into the passenger seat, and she was still crying when he gently placed his hand on her shoulder to get her to look at him.

“i’m just going inside for a few minutes then i’ll come out and drive you home, okay?”

she shook her head, and just ended up having to clamp her hand over her mouth because she couldn’t stop crying enough to form the words that she wanted to say.

“what?” fp frowned, and she felt his grip gently on her shoulder. “are your parents home?” she shook her head and he nodded. “okay, you can stay at the trailer, alright? you have things there, don’t you?” she nodded and she watched as he forced a smile. “alright, i’ll only be a few minutes.” he pressed a kiss to her forehead (that made her cry harder at the gentle action) before he stood up and gently shut the cab door behind him.

she watched him walk back towards the bar - meeting toni and fangs halfway - before they all walked back into the bar. she curled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, sobbing so hard that her chest hurt and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. now fp would go in and hear exactly what happened too, and they would all know in detail what she had been trying so hard to forget. now she would never get away from it.

-

true to his word, fp was only in the bar for a maximum of five minutes, and afterwards he drove her to the trailer. she hadn’t asked about what jughead was doing (he had simply told her he would be home soon), she hadn’t asked about her friends, and she most definitely hadn’t asked about him. fp kept glancing at her during the drive there, and she knew he was worried, but he had simply turned the radio on and drove in silence, which she was thankful for. she was still crying when he had gotten into the truck, and she wouldn’t have been able to stop for long enough to have a conversation.

he had helped her inside and as she changed into some of jughead’s clothes, he made her a mug of hot chocolate that he had left on jughead’s bedside table for her. thankfully, he had left her alone after that, and somewhere in between sipping the warm drink and getting comfortable underneath the covers of jughead’s bed, she had calmed down enough to stop crying. her eyes were sore and her face was flushed, and she hadn’t stopped shaking since she had first seen him, but it was a start.

around half an hour after she had gotten to the trailer, she could hear the rumble of a motorcycle outside, and with a sick feeling when she could hear the front door open she realised jughead was home. the volume of the tv out in the living room increased to mask the noise of the conversation happening, and y/n couldn’t be more thankful to fp for how he had helped her that night.

her shaking had increased whilst jughead and fp spoke in the living room, so much so that she had to put the mug down in fear of spilling any drink on jughead’s covers. would jughead want to talk to her about what happened? she didn’t think she would physically be able to say anything without breaking down again if she was honest. she just wanted to fall asleep with him holding her, and forget that anything had ever happened.

there was a gentle knock at the door before it opened, and she frowned underneath jughead’s gaze once he had stepped into the room. it had been easier the night that she was rescued; she was just so thankful that they had found her that she didn’t care that he was seeing her in such a fragile state, she just was happy to have him hold her again. but it felt different, because he had to listen in detail to what had happened. she didn’t even want to know what his reaction had been once she had left. had he stood in horrified silence and listened to the recount of her torture, or had he gotten physical? she took a glance at his knuckles as he shut the door, and once she saw the red and bruised skin there she had her answer.

jughead sighed as he walked over to the bed, and she watched with teary eyes as he slipped off his jacket and took off his hat. “y/n-”

as soon as his hand had moved to rest on her arm comfortingly she started crying again. she felt pathetic; she’s only just stopped crying for fuck sake. jughead had immediately sat down beside her once she started crying and pulled her into his embrace. she gripped onto his shirt tightly as she cried, and pressed her face into his shoulder as he held her.

“it’s okay, love, he won’t hurt you anymore.”

she wanted to tell him that she wasn’t crying because of that, and it was because everyone now knew everything that she had tried so hard to forget, but she couldn’t stop crying, so she just shook her head as she gripped onto him tighter.

jughead sighed, and she could feel his lips against the top of her head. “i’m so sorry he was there, i shouldn’t have text you. he-”

“i- i don’t want to- to know.” her chest heaved as she spoke and jughead just nodded as he held her closer.

“okay,” he whispered and sighed. “okay, sweetheart.”

she continued to cry for the next ten minutes or so, and jughead didn’t let her go for the whole time. he had constantly kept his hand rubbing her back, and littered kisses along the top of her head as he whispered soft promises of his love for her. it did help, no matter how little, and even once she had calmed down a little she refused to let go of him.

“i’m-” her breath hitched, as she still wasn’t completely calm, but jughead just waited patiently for her to finish. “i’m sorry.”

“why are you apologising?” he whispered, and when he had kissed the top of her head she almost burst into tears again.

“i didn’t want you to know what he-” her stomach lurched, and she had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. “-what happened, and you had to- you had to hear-” her voice had broken as the tears slipped down her cheeks again, and she could hear jughead mumbling apologies into her hair as he held her closer.

“shh, love,” he whispered, and y/n gripped onto him tighter as he pulled her into his lap so that he could hold her to his chest. “you’re working yourself up too much, you’re gonna make yourself sick,” she could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, and gripped onto his shirt in a fist as her chest heaved again. “it doesn’t matter that i had to-”

“yes it does!” she sobbed, and she forcefully dragged in another breath as he gripped onto her. “i didn’t want you to- now everyone knows!”

“y/n you need to calm down,” she could tell he was concerned through the tone of his voice, and how his grip on her subtly tightened. “take in a deep breath for me, love.”

y/n tried, and failed when she just continued crying, and by the time he had lifted his hands to her cheeks so that he could tilt her head up to look at him her chest was burning and her eyes were sore again. he kept one of his hands on her cheek to keep her looking at him, and she could feel his other one gently lift her hand to rest on his chest. “breathe with me, okay?”

she nodded as she flattened her palm against his chest, and her hand still shook when he had flattened his own over hers. she could feel his heartbeat drumming through his shirt and against her hand, and tried to focus on the rise and fall of his chest as she closed her eyes. it took her a few tries and a few whispered encouragements from jughead, but after a few minutes she had managed to match her breathing to his, and effectively helped her calm down.

“how’d you-” she hiccuped, and it hurt her already sore chest. “-how’d you know how to do that?”

he dropped his hand from hers and cradled her to his chest again as he leaned back against the headboard, and she closed her eyes as he held her. “when my parents used to argue and it got really bad, jellybean got panic attacks,” y/n frowned at the thought of his little sister in such a state, and let her hand gently rub his side. “i’d take her outside or into my room and it helped calm her down.”

y/n nodded against his shoulder, and sighed softly when his lips pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead. they were silent for a few moments after that, and it allowed her to calm down further. she still trembled in his arms, though aside from the occasional sniffle she had stopped crying. after everything she just felt exhausted. she just wanted to go to sleep and forget everything.

“y/n?” jughead’s soft voice broke the silence, and she nodded though she didn’t look up at him. “you can say no, but uhm… can i see your leg?”

she stiffened in his arms, and immediately he had rubbed her back and mumbled apologies into her hair. knowing what was on her leg and how it had gotten there hurt, but she knew that jughead would see it eventually anyways, whether she showed him then or not. so she slowly untangled her arm from his waist and with a shaky hand pulled up the edge of the boxers that she was wearing, to reveal the scar on the top of her thigh.

‘K. G’, it read. not only had he cut her neck with her own knife, but a few days later he had used it on her again. she could remember him saying it was so she could “never forget him” as he cut his initials into the top of her thigh, and at just of the sight of the letters embedded into her skin her eyes filled with tears once more. jughead hadn’t said anything for a moment, and when she glanced at his face his expression was unreadable. he sighed as his hand came to rest on her leg, and her bottom lip trembled as he gently ran the pad of his thumb just underneath the scar.

“i’m so sorry,” he was whispering, and she closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her forehead. “i should have been there to protect you, and i should have found you sooner. i’m so sorry he hurt you,” he was crying too when she looked up at him, and as he leaned in to kiss her their faces were wet, and the kiss tasted salty with tears. “he’ll never hurt you again, nobody will. i promise. i’d die a thousand times over before i ever let something happen to you.”

her lip trembled again and she nodded, unable to form any words as he held her close to himself again. her arms locked behind his back so that she didn’t have to let go of him, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to relax into him. he had started whispering loving things into her hair again, and as he rubbed her back it allowed her to relax somewhat. she had fallen asleep like that; listening to his soft words as her head pounded and her stomach continued to lurch. she wasn’t okay, in fact she was far from it. but with a hopeful thought as she started falling asleep in his arms, she would be.

[softluci]

talking to myself

[to begin, i wanna give a TW for mentions of m/rder, as well as s/icide and s/icidal jokes and thoughts; i know that i personally make a lot of jokes like these and so do a lot of my friends and people in general, but i also know that this can be really triggering for a lot of people, so if you are one of those people, this is not the post for you. take care of yourselves.] 

i’m, like, 100% sure that this is something associated with younger people, but in case it isn’t, i’ll just talk about myself. so, i talk to myself a lot. like, a lot. even more than i used to now that i’m alone a lot of the time. and the things that i say (and my friends also say), while they have no basis in reality, they are thoroughly unhinged. and i know that. but! i also find it incredibly funny and i wanted to do a set of headcanons for an mc who talks to themselves like that. some examples of things i say, some of which are things i picked up from my friends, include: 

“you’re sick” (/neg) “this is deranged” “the derangement” “i am insane” “i can’t take it anymore” [sobbing] “this is getting annoying, i need a fucking gun.” “i’m gonna kill myself and ruin everyone’s day.” “and it’s like, why, you know?”  “i’m gonna start killing people” “oh my god, i’m totally buggin” “get the FUCK—” “every day, i am provoked to rage” [unprovoked, uncontrollable laughter] “this reality...it wants me to be a murderer.” “i will kill.” “i don’t wanna” “it’s an illness that you have” “i would kill myself in front of you and permanently alter the trajectory of your life.” “it is time for the immense power of violence.” “don’t make me get violent~” “okay so just die then.” “i’m gonna rip you apart with my teeth.” “i’ll just die, that’s fine.”  and so on, and so forth. 

this is kinda long, but whatever, mc is gn, let’s have fun.

lucifer 

lucifer liked to think that he’d gotten used to you and your tendency to speak with little to no thought. he didn’t love this about you, but he certainly learned to expect it as the days went by. what he didn’t know, however, was that you talked to yourself. his guess was that you’d been refraining from doing so around him, as there was literally no other explanation for what had just happened to his state of being.

he was on his way to the kitchen, just to get some coffee before heading back to his office, when he heard something hit the floor. it didn’t sound like anything broke, so he wasn’t too concerned, but, nevertheless, he quickened his pace. 

he was not prepared for what you said, nor the venom you said it with, as he heard—

“this reality...it wants me to be a murderer, an instrument of evil...fine.”

you definitely weren’t expecting him to approach you as quickly as he did and grab your chin the way he did, but he was making sure you weren’t possessed. upon finding out that, no, you weren’t possessed, you’d just dropped a spoon, he took about seventeen points of psychic damage. 

mc, he is old and tired and he’s not used to this new flavor of humans who like to say the most deranged things they can think of whenever they’re slightly inconvenienced. you are shaving decades off of his life. he can’t tell you to refrain from doing that because you have been, so he is going to take it upon himself to try and make your life easier whenever he can. hopefully it’ll work, and you won’t be moved to unhinge yourself from your sanity the next time you make a small mistake. 

mammon

mammon is around you often enough to know that you talk to yourself every now and again. nothing too out of the ordinary, maybe some comments about the homework you were working on or whatever you were doing on your d.d.d. he was also around you often enough to know that the things you said weren’t always well thought-out, or thought-out at all. he wasn’t judging, he had no place to, he knew that, but—you know, he can’t say he was prepared for this. 

he was on his way to your room, as per usual, when, as he got to your doorway, you were overcome by something vile and you said, “i will kill.”

he has never burst into your room faster. he’s in your face, he’s yelling, his hands are on your shoulders, he’s this close to thrashing you around in hopes that whatever evil crawled inside of you while he wasn’t looking will come flying out—

what...did you say? you made a mistake on your homework? you made a mistake on your homework and your next course of action was to make anyone in a 300 foot radius think you’re possessed? you’re more boneheaded than he thought, and you should feel ashamed at this moment because this is the resident bonehead speaking. moving on, though. 

how can he make you into a happier person overall so that this doesn’t happen? if you don’t know, he’ll just attach himself to your hip so he can find out. congratulations, he’s never leaving you alone.

levi

levi is no stranger to saying things he doesn’t mean in moments of stress—this is just what happens when a person spends a lot of time playing games online. he’s said some pretty off-color things during matches, strings of curses, and the like, but he has never said, nor heard anything like what just left your mouth.

“i’m gonna start killing people.”

at first, he didn’t really react, giving you a quick glance and asking, “in the game, right?”

upon being met with silence, he looked to see you gripping your controller too tightly to actually use it, and asked again, “in the game, right?”

you blinked, apparently freed from whatever rage induced trance you slipped into, and turned towards him, “did you say something?”

he blinked at you once, twice, like the gears in his head were turning, and then—hysteria. 

he has you pinned to the floor with your wrists above your head, horns protruding from his scalp, and he is screaming—who are you, what have you done with mc, tell him your name before he summons lotan, leave his friend alone, and so on and so forth. he was interrogating you before you could even process the situation enough to feel fear. 

once he got over the bulk of his panic, he heard you screaming back at him, telling him it was you, you weren’t possessed, just talking to yourself, and let go of your wrists before he breaks them—he understood, kind of. he has no idea why you’d choose a phrase like that for when you’re annoyed, but at least you weren’t possessed! his henry was safe after all ^_^

he was so relieved that it took him a few seconds to realize he was still…pinning you down…and straddling you…so, naturally, more hysteria.

satan 

he’d actually grown fond of you and your tendency to speak with no thought or regard for the consequences of your actions—mainly because it stressed lucifer out, but he was fond of it nonetheless. it made you all the more interesting, more fun to talk to, and it helped him read you better. he liked to pick you apart by way of conversation, and he liked to do it as often as possible. 

presently, he was on his way to the library to meet you. the two of you were set to talk about a series you decided to read together. as he approached the doorway, he heard your voice, but no one else’s. he smiled in place of a laugh. were you talking to yourself? how cute—

“every day...i am provoked to rage unimaginable. why?” 

before you could even finish exhaling, he was above you, holding your face in his hands. from the glow of his eyes, you could tell he was barely keeping it together, but you had no idea what was wrong. did he hear what you said?

he said your name carefully, swiping his thumbs under your eyes. “have we been spending too much time together?” 

he was rubbing off on you, in the worst possible way. how could he have allowed this to happen? what has he done to you? where did this anger of yours come from? it has to be because of him. it would hurt, but he would distance himself from you at once, if that’s what—

“ah, did you hear what i said? i talk to myself like this all the time, satan, i’ve been doing it since before we even met. sorry if i frightened you.” 

he blinked, hands dropping to your shoulders. he was relieved, but so, so confused. 

“well,” he started, “then let’s talk about that instead.” 

asmo 

if you’d been refraining from talking to yourself around lucifer, you definitely did it for asmo too. there was no one in this house who wanted to see you angry less than he did. anger was such an ugly emotion, wasn’t it? he much preferred sadness; it was easier to manage, both in himself and others. 

of course, he could never think about being angry or sad when he was with you! how could he, when he’s with one of his favorite people? presently, he was on his way to your room to pick you up for one of your weekly outings. oh, you left the door open for him and everything! he was about to call out to you, but then he heard you talking to someone—he had no idea who it possibly could’ve been because he had no idea you could even sound like that when speaking to a sentient being. 

“i will rip you apart with my fucking teeth.” 

he had his arms around you before you even knew he was in your room. it seemed like a hug, and in a way, it was! the intent was to keep you in place so you couldn’t run away, rather than to comfort you, but it’s not like you could tell; his arms were around you all the time anyway.

“mc, light of my life, apple of my eye, who are you talking to?”

you twisted in his hold to face him, “i talk to myself all the time, asmo, you can ask anyone.”

he hummed, staring at you for a while before changing his hold on you into an actual hug. 

“you had me worried for a minute, darling~”

he didn’t really believe you, but he figured he would know if you were lying, and he could definitely handle whatever vile thing wormed its way into you while nobody was looking. best case scenario, he really didn’t have anything to worry about, and worst case scenario, you started speaking in tongues in the middle of majolish. if the latter happened to occur, he was strong enough to purge a lower demon from your body. it might hurt a lot a little , but at least you’d be safe!

beel 

for the most part, beel didn’t feel any particular way about your inclination to say words with no thought behind them. it was just something you did, like anything else was; he accepted it the same way he accepted everything else about you because that’s what friends do for each other. however—he would be lying if he said you didn’t upset him at times. 

like today—he was set to do his homework with you, on his way to the living room with an armful of snacks, when he heard something like the tip of a pencil breaking. it didn’t bother him, but it seemed to bother you. a lot. 

“i—i’ve had it, i’m gonna kill myself and ruin everyone’s goddamn day.” 

all of his snacks scattered across the floor when he dropped them to get to you. his hands were on your shoulders, but he wasn’t grabbing you. fortunately (or, unfortunately), belphie did this around him all the time, so he knew what to do, albeit it wasn’t much. 

slowly, he pulled you into a hug. not a crushing one, but enough to keep you from going anywhere. 

you started to explain yourself, telling him you do this all the time, that you didn’t mean it, that you were fine. it did nothing to reassure him because those were all of belphie’s usual phrases, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

“i know,” he started, pulling away from you. “i’m just making sure you don’t go anywhere. i like having you around. that’s all.”

belphie 

alright, this house isn’t big enough for the two of you. he is the vocally unwell person around these parts, he is the one who everyone is concerned about at all times, thank you very much. he was the one who made the jokes about death. he was the one with the concerning one-liners. that was all him. he wasn’t proud of it, he didn’t like the fact that things were this way, but it was what it was. he didn’t want you to be like him, and yet, there you were doing exactly that—even if you didn’t know. 

he was in your room, in your bed, actually— unbeknownst to you—because he was having trouble sleeping. you were somewhere in the house, on your way there, and once you arrived, it seemed like you were stressed. he didn’t know for sure, but he had a hunch that something was just eating away at you because as soon as you came in the door, you threw your bag on the ground and said—

well, you didn’t say anything, at first. the first thing you did was laugh. it was unrestrained, loud, and completely void of joy. and then, you said, “i can’t—i can’t fucking do this, i’ll just die, that’s fine, that’s okay.” 

he sat up faster than he has in the last century, deciding to be merciful and overlook how hard you gasped when you saw he was there. 

“belphie? why are you in my room?” 

he stood up, approaching you at a snail’s pace, “i couldn’t sleep, i was waiting for you, next question—why did you say what you just said?” 

before you could even start your usual explanation—you do this all the time, it’s fine, you’re fine—he was speaking again. 

“and don’t—don’t even try that, ‘it’s fine, ask anyone,’ shit with me, that’s my go-to, so you’re gonna have to come up with something new.” 

he looked at you expectantly, reaching behind you to close the door, locking it soon after. 

“belphie—”

he pulled you to your bed, falling onto it with you and holding you in place. 

“i have been doing this for much longer than you, and i will be doing it for a long time after you. i’d like to postpone the latter for as long as possible, so i would appreciate it if you talked to me.”

[intheticklecloset]

Deku’s Interrogation (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Yaaaas! I loved writing this prompt so much! I decided to take that “capture the flag” idea and turn it into a “rescue the hostage” training exercise for the class. I also decided to have Kaminari be the ler because I’ve written a lot of ler Bakugou torturing poor Deku! 😂 I think the change was refreshing and fun! Enjoy!

~

In all of his hero training at U.A., Deku had never been cast to play a villain before. He didn’t know why, now that he thought about it. Selecting classmates to play villains seemed to be random each time; the fact that he’d gone so many rounds without being cast himself was actually a pretty impressive statistic. Had Mr. Aizawa done that on purpose? Or maybe All Might had something to do with it?

No, he decided, walking slowly and alertly through the empty streets of the fake city they were training in. It was just the luck of the draw that he’d never had to play a bad guy before. But today was different. Today they were doing rescue training, and he and six others had been cast to play the villains. His job was to keep any heroes from getting close enough to their base to rescue their captive, Mr. Aizawa. With his speed and raw power, he seemed the perfect choice to make sure no one even got close enough to the building, let alone inside it.

Up ahead, he heard a soft sound followed by a whispered curse. Instantly his mind was shuffling through potential threats. Which one of his classmates was nearby? He could only rule out those who were on his team as fellow villains; it could be anyone hiding around that corner up ahead.

Deciding the element of surprise would be best, Deku surged forward, leaping up onto the side of one structure to use as a springboard to attack whoever was hiding, but his opponent seemed to have suspected he’d do this and had already bailed from where they’d been just as Deku came hurtling toward the spot they’d vacated.

When he stood up, Deku found himself face-to-face with Kaminari.

“Aw, crap,” Denki muttered, putting on an angry face for the sake of their training. “Of course it had to be you.”

“Thought you could sneak up on me?” Deku asked, trying to stay in character.

“If I hadn’t tripped over that rock, I would have.”

“Too bad for you.”

Kaminari threw his hands in the air, violent sparks of electricity shooting out from his hands and flying toward Deku at record speed. But thanks to One For All, the “villain” was able to jet away quickly enough to avoid damage, then hurtle back toward Denki and grab his arms, twisting them behind him.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said in what he hoped was a growling voice.

“Oh yeah?” Kami whipped his head back hard enough to smack into Deku’s forehead, making him shout in pain and stumble back in the seconds before he found himself shoved against a wall, soft electric currents shooting through his pinned wrists. “Now, if you so much as blink at me the wrong way, I’ll fry you so hard you’ll go up in smoke.”

Wow, he’s really into this, Deku thought.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” the electric hero continued. “Where is Mr. Aizawa?”

Deku grunted, but he knew better than to make any sudden movements. “Like I’d tell you.”

All of a sudden, Denki got a look in his eyes that sent a shiver down Deku’s spine. The blonde eyed him for a moment, then glanced at his wrists – still buzzing with a soft current – and chuckled lowly. “Heh. Aren’t you a little too ticklish to be playing a villain, Midoriya?”

Deku’s eyes widened. “Y-You…you wouldn’t. Not in the middle of training.”

Kaminari’s answering smirk was positively evil. “Try me.”

Deku tried to break out of Kami’s hold, but the instant he moved – as promised – his friend intensified the current running down his arms, making them freeze up in a painful electric shock. While he cried out and was distracted, Denki grabbed onto his hips and started kneading. “Tell me where he is.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Deku burst into laughter, shooting his arms down to grab at Kami’s wrists desperately. “NOHOHOHOHO NO NO, YOU CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T DO THIHIS!!”

“Says who?” Denki challenged, pushing him right back up against the wall. “The rules say the heroes are to find and rescue the hostage by any means necessary. Well, I intend to do both, even if it means tickling you to pieces to get the information I need.”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! KAMINAHAHAHARI!!”

“Better talk, villain.” Denki’s smirk became more playful now. “Or I’ll use my quirk to really tickle it out of you.”

Everything in Deku wanted to beg Kaminari to let him go, but in order to fulfill his role as a villain, he knew he couldn’t give up the information without a fight. So, despite his singing nerves, he spat out a half-growled, “DOHOHOHOHO YOUR WOHOHOHORST!!”

“As you wish.”

“AAIIEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!” Deku shrieked with hysterics when Kami ignited his sparks just enough to send extra intense ticklish shockwaves through his system. His legs quickly gave out beneath him from the assault. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Tell me where Aizawa is!” Denki demanded, grinning as he followed Deku to the ground and pinned him there. “Tell me, or I’ll tickle you to death!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku desperately shoved at Kami’s shoulders, but in response the blonde merely laughed and straddled him, still focused on his hips. “I-I’LL NEHEHEVER TAHAHAHAHAHALK!!” He regretted his words even as he said them, but he had to stay in character! “I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!!”

“You can?” Kaminari beamed. “Great! Then you won’t mind if I just tickle and tickle and tickle and—”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP TAHAHAHALKING!!” Deku pleaded, the teasing messing with him more than he could stand. Resisting tickle torture was one thing, but teasing as well?!

“Stop talking? I thought you said you could take this?” Denki knew full well what he was doing, and under normal circumstances perhaps he would have felt a little bad about it, but right now he had a job to do. He was getting that location out of Deku if it was the last thing he did. “Oh, I see. You can take the tickling; it’s the teasing you don’t like!”

“KAMI--!!”

“Well, I mean, I did say you were a little too ticklish to be a villain. And here we are, me completely dominating this fight, all because you’re just so insanely sensitive! Why did the villains think to put you on guard duty when just one little tickle would render you helpless like this?”

“I’M NOHOHOHOHOT HEHEHEHEHEHELPLESS!!” Deku screeched, kicking his legs and trying to pry Denki’s fingers from his hips. But anytime he got close enough to make contact, the sparks emanating from the hero would force him back again.

“No? Go ahead, then. Get out of this if you can, villain.”

He was trying. So, so desperately he was digging his heels into the pavement, twisting and writhing to try and get Kami’s weight off of him, shoving at any part of his body he could reach. None of it was working. Denki knew his death spot was his hips and he was just staying there and Deku was losing his mind laughing and the electric shocks were only making it worse—

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Deku couldn’t help it anymore; if he didn’t do something he was going to go insane. Laughter-induced tears streamed down his cheeks. “STAHAHAHAHAP, PLEASE, KAHAHAHAHAHAMINARI!!”

“Where’s Mr. Aizawa?” Denki demanded, slipping back into his role as a relentless hero now that he saw how desperate he’d made his friend. “Talk, villain!”

“I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!!” Deku screamed, tossing his head back with renewed hysterics when Denki intensified his ticklish shockwaves.

“The more you resist, the more I tickle,” Kaminari said in a low, threatening tone. “Talk.”

Now Deku was well and truly losing his mind. He knew there was no getting out of this physically; he was far too weakened by the tickling and his thoughts were turning to mush with every second that went by that his torturer didn’t let up on his death spot. He could barely breathe. His laughter was beyond out of control – it was wild. There was only one thing he could do to get this to stop, and while he hated giving in so easily, he had no choice.

“OKAYOKAYOKAHAHAHAHAHAHY I’LL TAHAHAHAHAHAHALK JUST PLEASE STOP TIHIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

Denki stopped, grinning victoriously, but at that moment the buzzer sounded and Present Mic’s voice blasted through the speakers. “The heroes have dismantled the villain’s defenses and rescued the hostage! This battle is over! Heroes win!”

For a moment, Kaminari could only blink in astonishment. His friends had rescued Mr. Aizawa while he was out here tickling Deku into submission? What good had that done anyone? He was such a moron. “Aw, man,” he mumbled, climbing off of his friend. “I didn’t even get to do anything.”

“A-Are you…kidding me?” Deku gasped incredulously, looking up at him through teary-eyed vision. “I w-was the villains’…primary defense! Y-You completely disarmed me, and while…while I was distracted the other h-heroes got in to rescue the hostage. You just won for…your whole team, Kaminari!”

Denki was silent for a moment. Then a megawatt grin spread across his features and he pumped a fist in the air. “All right! I did it!” He turned his smile to Deku, who still lay gasping for breath, and he hesitated. “Oh, uh…are you okay, Midoriya? Sorry if I went a little crazy, I just…” He knelt down beside his friend. “I had to play my role, you know?”

Deku groaned. “And since I couldn’t just give up the information you needed without a fight, I got tickled nearly to death. This doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well…I did say I’d hold you to letting me try out my new tickle-shocks on you.” Kaminari chuckled. “So you kind of had this coming anyway.”

After a long moment, Deku giggled tiredly. “Yeah, okay, I guess that makes me feel a little better.��� He held out his hand, and Kaminari helped him to his feet. “Do me a favor though – next time you feel like tickling me, please do not use those tickle-shocks on my hips. That was unbearable.”

“Hey, I had to get the information I needed!” Denki replied with a laugh, walking with his friend away from the scene of the crime. “But it did seem a little intense. I won’t use them there again without warning you first; how does that sound?” He couldn’t very well promise to never do that again – it had been too much fun!

Deku considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. And hey, Kaminari?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. I didn’t like playing a villain anyway.”

[tfwhynoy]

Headcanons about sg tfp Cons? I mean like personalities, backstories, appearances.

Okay so, there is a lot to go over here for each bot. I pretty much just went till I lost my steam, which was only two bots. If people want more then I’ll do more but for now, have Megatron and Shockwave.

Tfp Megatron

Instead of being made of sharp curves and points, he’s a bit more blocky with straighter edges and flatter squares (I really hope that makes sense). He’s a lighter grey with a few blue accents instead of the usual purple.

He was a miner who became a gladiator as an escape from the horrid conditions. He’s just as impressive as the normal Megatron. As the crowd chanted his name, his chosen one, not the one assigned to him, he felt amazing. But upon reflection, he realized how twisted it was. He was born into the position of a miner, someone who should never have seen the sun but was one of the few who had stolen a small glimpse of it anyway, became a gladiator who killed his fellow bots to try and escape the horrid day to day horrid life he lived. It was sickening. He couldn’t fight anymore. He wanted to tear down the class system, bring equality to cybertron, and give a voice to those at the bottom for the first time in many millennia. Along the way of preaching his beliefs and trying to gain a following he befriended Orian, quickly sharing a close bond.

When Orian presented Megatron’s beliefs to the council, Megatron felt betrayed. Of course, they soaked up what the archivist had to say, a few even commenting they may have the next prime among them. As much as he tried to not be jealous of the quick following Orian gained for beliefs Megatron had taught him he couldn’t stop himself. A confrontation leads to an explosive argument, Orian showing himself to be a lot nastier than previously seen. Orian then began to spread rumors of Megatron having ulterior motives, of being power hungry and wanting to take over Cybertron by any means necessary. With a tarnished reputation Megatron was left with only a small group of loyal bots as close friends, Soundwave, Shockwave, and Starscream being among them.

It’s when Orian journeyed to the center of Cybertron and was labeled as Optimus Prime that he showed his true colors. He began to take the planet over by force, leaving everyone scrambling to choose a side. Autobots, with the fabled Optimus Prime, who had to be doing this for a reason, or the Decepticons, with Megatron, a lowly miner who was supposedly a power hungry and violent mech. With everything against him, Megatron fought as much as he could, losing Cybertron in the process. Eventually the war makes its way to Earth, where he swears to himself to finally end the war before it goes any further, before cybertronians went extinct from this war.

He is a mech riddled with guilt and anxiety. Megatron is a good leader though, often forgetting to care for himself. His second in command,   Starscream, is probably the only reason Megatron hadn’t accidentally starved himself.

He really likes humans. They’re quirky little creatures with so much energy and spite in these little squishy bodies. Though he’s terrified that if he interacted with a human that he’d accidentally hurt them. 

Will drop everything to listen to someone who’s having a hard day, especially if he can do something about it. Most bots tend to be pretty intimidated by him though so he doesn’t have a lot of people he’s close to. 

He’s so tired all the time. Needs to learn what a self-care day is and just go off and take a self-care month. 

The type of person who is really charismatic on stage, able to whip up inspirational speeches out of nowhere in the most dire of situations and inspire the whole Nemesis, but the second you try and talk to one on one with him he is awkward as hell. Small talk kills him and he struggles to carry a conversation sooo bad.

Tfp Shockwave.

He’s a bit slimmer and more round rather than blocky. He’s mostly an orange-tan color with a lighter beige instead of black. His optic and biolight are a bright electric blue though. He’s intensely expressive and easily exited by the simplest things so you’ll rarely see him without his closest equivalent of a smile.

He was originally a part of the scientist cast, making great improvements that aided Cybertron. He even volunteered his free time to provide medical aid to gladiators, which is where he met Megatron and heard some of his earlier thoughts of the casting system. He was of the small group that didn’t shun Meagtron when rumors started arising, even when his own reputation began to fall. While he wasn’t as close as some other bots, he couldn’t believe that Megatron was like that. When the war began he was quick to lend his servos and help, mostly making defensive devices to protect troupes from the merciless autobots. After an particularly awful interrogation and ground bridge explosion that he would rather never speak of again, he was abandoned on Cybertron. All alone he began an experiment to try and bring back predacons, an old species long gone that he had loved so much. It was successful, and when he was on the Nemesis he was eager to share this with Megatron. Finally with the other Decepticons again he resumed his duties providing the best tech he could come up with to aid the Decepticon cause.

I know a common interpretation is the anti-vax, crystal energy obsessed, sciences denier type but I really dislike this interpretation. Plus, I wouldn't ever be able to properly write him without doing some shitty caricature. I think doing something more like a Bill Nye type would be more interesting. A mech with who sees science as its own type of magic who’s excited to share what he knows to anyone that will listen. A little eccentric and odd in his own way.

His best friend is Predaking. They are near inseparable and often eat together during Shockwaves breaks.

He may not have a face, but he’s so expressive with the rest of his body he doesn’t really need one show expression. His biolights glow brighter or flash at different speeds, his kibble will move, he’ll slouch or stand straight, all depending on how he feels.

Chatterbox. The only one who talks more than him is Soundwave. Ironically they rarely use actual words in their communications, instead using mostly memes and emoticons. No one can understand a thing they’re saying to each other.

[moonknightly]

and you keep me holding on : santiago “pope” garcia x reader (five)

Word Count: 2.9k

Excerpt: “Around the four minute mark, he watched as Nathan’s hand moved into frame to stroke her cheek. Santi was just about to turn away, hating the way he touched her so tenderly when he was using her as nothing more than the sick focus in this game he was playing...”

Warnings: Mentions of past sexual assault, blood, gun violence, mentions of death — it’s a lot folks. Read cautiously. 

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER 22ND — DAY SIX

Santi isn’t the one to break the news to her parents. He still has no idea what to say to them, or if he even can say anything to them without making himself sick, without breaking down completely. He isn’t used to feeling emotion like this, doesn’t know what he can handle and what will send him spiraling. The last of his mental stability isn’t something he is willing to risk losing right now.

He is, however, sitting in Cameron’s office when she makes the dreaded phone call, and he can hear her mother sob on the other line, and all he can do is watch, numbly so, as tears flood Cameron’s own eyes. Santi knows that she hasn’t had the time to process it for herself — her complete and utter focus has been on both him and this case, and on top of that she still has a department to run and her own family waiting for her at home.

She has to be tired.

Santi is so, so tired.

The night before is a blur. He remembers Jay telling him about the video, and then there’s nothing until this morning, when Jay shook him awake to tell him Cameron needed him down at the precinct. He still doesn’t know what for. There was no way she was expecting him to do any work for the case, that much he knew, and so he hadn’t bothered fixing his hair or changing out of his sweats.

He sits quietly on the small sofa in Cameron’s office with Jay sitting to his left, both staring at nothing in particular. Santi’s leg is bouncing again, his elbow perched on it and knuckles resting against his bottom lip. He still refuses to believe that she's gone. Santi is so, so sure that she's still alive, but no one else seems to think so. He can’t even begin to put into words how enraged it makes him, how much it makes him want to scream and break anything he can get his hands on.

But then again, he hasn’t seen the video. He hasn’t seen what everyone else had seen, and though he really doesn’t want to, he knows that he needs to, if only for some sense of twisted, morbid closure. To put it all to rest.

And besides that, he can’t just take their word for it when there’s a gnawing, pulling feeling in his stomach telling him that they’re all wrong. It isn’t hope, and it sure as hell isn’t faith, because Santi doesn’t have any faith left to give, not in the squad, not in himself, not even in the boys — they’d offered their help, but he has nothing to give them, no leads to go off of and he knows that’s his fault because he’s not trying hard enough but it’s easier to just blame everyone else.

But that’s something he would deal with later, because all he can focus on is that damn feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s more than faith or hope, and he honestly doesn’t have a word for it — personal assurance, maybe? All he knows is that he’s so completely positive that she’s somewhere, still breathing, still living.

“Garcia,” Cameron gently begins, causing Santi’s eyes to immediately flicker over to her. She hesitates for a moment as she looks him over, taking in his hunched appearance that was so un-Santi like it doesn’t even look like him for a moment. “I’m so sorry, but I had to-”

“I wanna see the video,” Santi mumbles, not caring about what she had to say, his words slurring together as if he had been drowning himself in liquor the night before instead of lying passed out on the couch.

His words catch Cameron off guard, and her eyes widen, only slightly but enough for Santi to notice. She quickly averts her gaze to Jay as she searches for the right thing to say, but she doesn’t know how to answer him. When almost a full thirty seconds pass in silence, Jay decides that he has to be the one to break it, not able to stand it.

“Santi, I really don’t think that’s a good-”

“Look, I’m just gonna guess that you called me down here because the feds want to talk to me, right? And you know, they’re probably going to show it to me while they’re accusing me of murdering my wife again-”

Both Jay and Cameron flinch, but Santi doesn’t stop talking.

“-and I’d say that’s a pretty shitty way to see it for the first time, don’t you?”

Now it’s Jay’s turn to be stunned into silence. He tries his best to put himself into Santi’s shoes, tries to figure out what he would personally want if he ever found himself in a similar situation.

But he has no idea what he would want in this instance, because he doesn’t know how to even begin imagining something so awful. He would never wish this on his worst enemy, which he knows is a terrible cliche, and it's hard enough as her friend, he just can’t imagine this from her lover’s standpoint.

But he knows that Santi is right, and that his first time seeing the video shouldn’t be when he’s being interrogated by Barnes and Graves. He sighs gently, and closes his eyes slowly before nodding his head.

“Fine. But you’re not watching it alone.”

Santi only nods in return, knowing better than to argue. He knows he won’t be able to watch it on his own anyways.

He stands, somewhat shakily, and inhales deeply, trying to calm the nerves that seem to have made a permanent home in his stomach over the last six days. Cameron offers her seat to him, and he sits without question, already feeling like his knees will give out at any second. Jay comes to stand behind him, and he takes one last look at Santi before clicking on the correct file, regretting it the moment he watches Santi suck in a sharp breath, a small gasp falling from his lips at the image that’s now displayed on the screen.

Just like the photo from a few days before, she’s tied up and gagged and she looks so utterly terrified it makes Santi’s head spin. She looks weaker than before too, and she’s only wearing her underwear. A wave of nausea hits and Santi swallows hard, and Cameron just wants to get it over with, so she hits play.

Immediately, Nathan grabs her jaw, pushing her cheeks together, forcing her lips to purse. It makes Santi’s skin burn, seeing his hands on her like that. His first thought is that he wants to break the fucker’s fingers, one by one.

The longer the camera focuses on her face, the harder and harder her glare becomes, and Santi feels that disgusting pride swell in his chest at the brutal fire in her eyes. That's his girl, so stubborn, never the one to go down without a fight.

She violently shakes her head once before attempting to thrash her arms, but she doesn't get very far with that, the ropes not allowing her to move hardly at all.

“Say hi to your husband, baby,” Nathan snickers, his voice dripping with venom that only adds to the fire moving through Santi’s veins. Maybe it was also due to the fact that he called her “baby”, but he knows he shouldn’t be focusing on that.

Nathan pulls the gag from her lips, and she gasps for air, gritting her teeth together but otherwise staying silent. When she fails to speak, Nathan laughs again.

“Is someone nervous?”

“Fuck you.”

“Again? We just finished not too long ago, sweetheart.”

She stays quiet again. Santi feels like he’s going to vomit, but he pushes the feeling down. He’s gotten really good at doing that in the last six days — at pushing all of his feelings down and away and locking them behind thick walls where he wouldn’t have to face them.

He can feel Cameron’s worried eyes on him, but he ignores them, refusing to pull his attention away from the screen in front of him.

“You wanna tell him about that, huh baby? You wanna tell your husband what I did to you? What you let me do to you?”

This time, she flinches when Nathan says the word “husband”, almost subtle enough to where Santi wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t paying such close attention.

“I didn’t let you do anything.”

“Mm, you did put up a pretty good fight sweetheart. You really know how to tighten my pants, don’t you?”

Santi doesn’t want to see anymore, doesn't want to hear anymore, but he can’t stop watching. He has to see it for himself, he has to. He needs to.

The video continues on for a few minutes, Nathan going into sick detail with every heinous act he performed or otherwise forced her into, because he knew Santi would see the video and he knew what it would do to him. Santi feels closer to faint with each passing second.

Around the four minute mark, he watches as Nathan’s hand moves into frame to stroke her cheek. Santi is just about to turn away, hating the way he touched her so tenderly when he watches her snap her head to the right and in one swift, solid motion, she has Nathan’s hand in her mouth and she’s biting down. Hard.

Nathan’s screams echo through the speakers, and Santi finds himself smirking at the sound. She has a good grip on him for several seconds before he manages to pull away, a bloody bite mark on the back of his hand. His screaming continues, and Santi actually lets out a chuckle that only increases Cameron’s concern.

But then suddenly, Santi isn’t laughing anymore, because Nathan brings the end of a gun down onto her head and the wound in her eyebrow splits open again. She groans, only briefly before she regains her composure, refusing to show how much pain she’s actually in. She’s grinning, and Nathan’s cursing.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Nathan says, a sadistic edge to his voice that puts Santi on complete alert, sets him on edge.

She chuckles, her grin quickly turning into a smirk that Santiago instantly recognizes. It was the same smirk she wore when she was being stubborn or when she was challenging something.

Or in this case, someone.

“Goddammit,” Santi mutters the second he catches it, because he knows her well enough to know that she was about to open her mouth when she should have just kept it shut.

“Bring it. Can’t get any worse than having you on top of me, can it?”

Not a moment later, a single shot rings through the speakers, causing Santi to jump in his chair, though he knows he should have been prepared for it.

He can see her eyes widen, but she doesn’t scream. She doesn't make a single noise whatsoever. She only stares at some faraway spot, her eyes watering and her jaw falling slack as she fades away into a state of shock while Nathan laughs maliciously. He grabs her cheeks again and holds them tightly while he forces her to look into the camera.

“You have anything you want to say to Santiago now? Huh?” he yells, and before she can answer, Cameron bends down and clicks out of the video.

Santi’s head jerks to the side, eyebrows furrowing as he looks up at the lieutenant. “What are you-”

“That’s enough. She didn’t say anything.”

“But-”

“Santi,” Jay murmurs, shaking his head slowly. “It only had a few seconds left. You didn’t need to see anymore of it.”

Santi sits there for several seconds, staring at the computer screen as he tries to decipher the emotions running through his brain. He can’t figure out how to feel or how to even make himself feel it — he’s just numb. He can admit that his chest feels a little bit emptier than it had before he walked into the office, and there’s a hint of anger, but nothing compared to what he’s been feeling all week.

If the movies and the books were right, he should be screaming, crying. Begging and pleading. He should be going through the same emotions he’d experienced on the phone with his mother, he should be inconsolable. Losing his mind and throwing things.

But he doesn’t have the urge to do any of that. At the very least he thinks he should have been having a similar reaction Jay’s from the night before, but there’s just nothing.

There is, however, two things that he’s absolutely certain of.

“She didn’t need to speak to say it,” Santi mumbles quietly. “She said that she’s sorry. That she loves me.”

Cameron raises an eyebrow, her head tilting to the side. “What do you-”

“I could see it in her eyes. You’re with a person long enough and words just kind of become redundant.”

Cameron hesitates as tears spring to her eyes. It’s hard enough losing a friend, but she almost believes it’s even harder watching a friend deal with losing his wife. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone love someone like you two loved each othe-”

“Don’t,” he snaps, effectively cutting her off. “Not past tense. Don’t do that shit to me.”

She sighs. “You know what I mean.”

“She’s still alive.”

“Santi-”

“She is.”

Cameron stays silent, again at a loss for words. Santi’s been forced to grieve for his wife once already, through the hope of finding her alive, and just when he was getting to a place where he was able to find just a little bit of light in the sorrow, he has to grieve her death. He has to go through the five stages of grief all over again, though he had never really finished the cycle the first time around, hadn’t allowed himself to.

Denial was the first. It was textbook—

“We didn’t see where it hit,” he says, interrupting her thought process.

She hesitates, considering his words for a moment. “No, we didn’t. But-”

“So he could have shot her in the fuckin’ foot for all we know. She could still-”

“If she had been shot in the foot, it would hurt more than it would have immediately thrown her into shock-”

“Not necessarily-”

“-and even so, the infection’s gonna kill her. Nathan can’t take her to a hospital.”

Santi only scoffs, leaning back in the chair, trying his hardest to keep his anger at bay. Screaming, arguing won’t get him anywhere.

Jay licks his lips, bracing himself against the desk, leaning forward so he can get a better look at Santiago. “You know the odds are definitely not in her favor.”

“But the odds aren’t completely zero, are they?”

“It’s…” Jay starts, pausing, sighing, knowing Cameron isn’t going to like what he has to say. “It’s possible. We’ve certainly seen people survive worse than a gunshot to the foot.”

“But like Garcia said,” Cameron adds, clearly agitated as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “We didn’t see where the bullet hit. It could have hit anywhere from the chest down.”

“So we should stop searching for my wife because of a possibility rather than take the probability and run with it?”

Cameron again doesn’t have anything to say. She doesn’t know what to say. As a friend, she wants to say no, they shouldn’t stop looking. They should never stop looking.

But as a cop, she wants to say that there’s nothing else they can do, not until they have a substantial lead, something else to go off of. They can’t even trace the video and the email back to an IP address, for some reason that they still can’t quite figure out.

“Cameron,” Santi mumbles, voice gentle, calmer than it had been just seconds before. He blinks, and Cameron can’t tell if it’s to hold back his tears or if it’s to give himself a moment to breathe, to work up the courage to speak again.

“I’m not going to stop looking until there’s a body.”

Cameron’s breath hitches, and she forces herself to swallow the lump in her throat, to not show how his words hit her right in the gut and knocked the air from her lungs completely.

“I know,” she sighs finally, shaking her head slowly and averting her gaze. “But I still think you need to stay away from this. You’re going to drive yourself mad, Santiago. You’re loyal to a fault and it’s going to cost you your own health.”

“It’s not even about loyalty at this point.”

Cameron shifts her eyes back to Santi.

“It’s just about knowing.”

Santi hesitates, running a hand through his disheveled curls, down his face, the pressure in his chest growing the longer he sits there with his thoughts running wildly through his head.

“She’s still alive because I don’t know that she’s dead.”

[stxvercgersslut]

If This Is Goodbye

Pairing: Nick Grant x Reader

Description: You and your boyfriend Nick’s ‘vacation’ was cut dramatically short when you are captured and tortured by Henry Carver. However, you weren’t expecting what happened next.

Warnings: I Guess you could label this as a dark oneshot. This ones full of Angst, mentions of death, character death, mentions of blood and language

Prompts: “You’re such a sore loser.” & "We're not done yet."

A/n: Well this is the first oneshot that I have written that has an angsty ending and doesn’t end all fluff like usual. I just wanted to have a change from my fluff that I write. I decided that this would be a great one to write for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 August writing challenge. Especially since there isn’t much time left. When it’s only dialogue Nick is in italics and y/n is normal.

A/n: this made me cry whilst I was writing it 🥺 but it was totally worth it since I actually adore the way this turned out.

After hours of interrogation you and Nick were still trapped in some god damn rotten hotel room, being tortured in ways that you’d actually strangely expected from someone like Henry. However, now it was just getting stupid. Currently, Nick was handcuffed against a fucking radiator. Yes that really was what the high and mighty Henry had decided to handcuff him to. Well there wasn’t exactly many other places to tie him to. Especially since they were in a hotel room. “We already told you we have no don’t have what you want!” Nick pressed through his now already hoarse voice, giving small little glances over in your direction every so often to ensure that you were ‘safe’. Not that anything about this particular situations at all screamed safe. Especially since you were laying on the floor beaten, bloody and bruised from one of Henry’s men beating the living shit out of you in attempt to get Nick to talk. And believe me..if he had known where whatever the Male was looking for was? Well he would have already told them by now. Seeing you quivering in pain would have been enough of a reason to spill the information that they needed. But unfortunately for the pair of you, this time you really were telling the truth. What ever it was that Henry and his men needed must have been important if it was worth kidnapping you and Nick in the middle of your ‘Vacation’. Well it wasn’t really a vacation, it was more of a get away in order to stay safe. No that that had worked out in either of your favours.

Henry laughed bitterly as he stepped closer to Nick, kneeling down so that he was now directly in front of your boyfriend. Oh this couldn’t be good. Especially since it was public knowledge that Henry was a very experienced and advanced Pusher. As long as he stayed out of your heads then everything would be fine. “Oh but the contrary Nick, I think you’re forgetting that we have a Watcher on our side and we already know that you were looking for the case. So where is it?” The stronger male spoke as he looked at Nick, staring him straight in the eyes like some sick and twisted confession.

“We don’t have the case!” This time it was you that spoke up, your voice audibly trembling due to how much pain you were in from the hours of torture that you’d endured. Oh you were desperately trying to sound stronger and more confident but it wasn’t like that could happen when all you wanted to do was curl up and cry. That just wasn’t like that normal you. In fact, the normal you was nothing like this. This was heart breaking for Nick. Hearing you sound so weak when he was used to hearing you laughing and enjoying life hurt him. It was so different to the way that you normally acted. “She’s telling them truth” Nick spoke, trying to keep himself calm as he thought for a few seconds, clearly trying to figure out a way to escape the torture and get you both to a hospital. Or at least to a drug store so he could steal the supplies you’d need to patch the both of you up.

It was a millisecond later that Nick was able to move the wardrobe that had been coincidentally right next to where he and you were being kept. The heavyweight of the object being enough of a distraction to give Nick just the amount of time that he needed to attempt to rip the handcuffs from him. But in actuality he had only managed to tear himself away from the radiator by practically ripping it off of its hinges, not that he cared right now. No all he cared about at this particular moment was getting out of here with you.

However, his master plan was prevented when a blood curdling scream, of course coming from a Bleeder, ripped through the room. Causing both You and your boyfriend to double over in pain, both holding your ears in an attempt to shield yourselves from the ear piercing sound. Pathetic really since now both of you were screaming in agony. “I thought you were smarter then that Nick. But it seems like you’re such a sore loser” Henry spoke with a slight sigh, almost as if he was disappointed by how everything g had played out. And To be completely honest you were disappointed too. Not with Nick, but with how your small get away had turned out.

After just a couple of seconds your ears had began to bleed quite severely, but right now it didn’t seem to be anything too critical. Not enough to kill you just yet, although if he continued to scream then you were 100% certain that you’d die soon. However, Nick seemed to be worse off since he was barely awake. Struggling to even keep him eyes open. But what was even worse then seeing your own boyfriend being brutally murdered in front of you was the fact that when he finally managed to make eye contact with you you could see the desperate pain in his eyes. Almost as if he was trying to stay strong just for you. Everything he did was always for you there was no doubt about it.

At this point it was only a matter of seconds before you would die. You’d pretty much come to the terms with the fact that you were going to die today...but then....silence. Had you gone deaf? Had you finally died? Or was the pain too much that you had just passed out? All of those questions had continued to swim through your brain, totally convinced that it was over until you fell a sharp pain run through you body as you were yanked from the floor by two extremely cold hands. The action in itself enough to make you yelp in pain.

In seeing this Nick saw red, or maybe that was just from how much blood was pouring from his ears and blurring his vision. But seeing you so helpless and weak really did hit a nerve. “Get...The...fuck off of her! Don’t kill her! It’s me you’ve got the problem with not her! Kill me instead” He stuttered out demandingly although Henry only laughed bitterly in response, this man was cold and calculating whenever it came to getting what he wanted and if it meant murdering you to get answers out of Nick then he would do it in a heart beat. Which was exactly what he was proposing to do.

“Oh Nick you really don’t know when to shut up do you?” The Male spoke bitterly as he silently gave instructions to the man holding onto your hair, ending up with the male pressing his hand around your throat and pressing his gun against your back. Of course this scared the crap out of you but by this point you had already given up on life. “We're not done yet! Now Nick, tell me where the case is or your I’ll tell my friend over there to pull the trigger” Henry threatened, letting nick watch you struggle for breath with that son of a bitches hand wrapped round your throat, before his gaze was violently ripped away from you when Henry grabbed at his face to pull his gaze back to him. None of this was at all good.

“Nick! It’s okay...don’t tell him...please” you begged, barely able to string a sentence together with how hard the males grip was on your throat. Blood still pouring from your ears. If you weren’t shot then the loss of blood from the pervious screaming you’d endured would certainly kill you.

“I’m not gonna let you die y-“

“Y-y—you......don’t have.....any....other choice”

“I’m not letting you die!” Nick spoke before taking in a deep breath, barely keeping himself steady before Henry’s voice boomed through the room “you’ve got three seconds to tell me where the case is before y/n gets shot” he threatened. Oh and Nick was just about to tell him who had the case before you stopped him once again

“Nick dont!” You spoke more confidentially, trying to keep his focus on you for the three second count down. Only realising that the count down was over when pain rippled through your body, Nick basically bolting over to you as you fell limp to the floor. For now you were breathing but not for long.

“It’s a shame Nick, I would have thought you’d want to comply with us.” was the last thing Henry had said before both him and his men left the room, leaving Nick alone with you now settled with your upper half in his lap. Little did you know that Henry and his men had actually managed to get the information they needed soon after they’d left. You didn’t need to die but somehow there you were, shaking uncontrollably in your boyfriends arms.

“I told...you I wasn’t going to let you die ..” Nick pressed whilst running his hands through your hair, tears runningdown his face as he stared down at you. There was no reason to get help, especially when you’d already gone so pale. All he could do now was hold you till you passed away. Not that he wanted that to happen of course.

“C...couldnt......l...let them get....what they wanted” your voice was little over a whisper now as your skin began to pale and your eyes began uncomfortably heavy just begging to close. But, like Nick tried to do for you, you held on. Only for him.

“You’re so damn stubborn sometimes”

“I......I.....l...love you”

“Y/n don’t do that....don’t say that...help must be on its way....you’re going to be okay...I love you’d o much but you can’t say that right now...please don’t say that like it’s the last time you’re going to say it...because it’s not okay? It’s not...you’re going to grow old with me and we’re going to have two kids just like we wanted. You are not going to die!” Nick spoke overly emotional due to the situation in front of him. As much as he wanted to believe that you were going to survive this, he knew far two well that you were going to die.

“I...l...love...y-“ the words couldn’t even leave your lips fully as your heart began to slow at a horrifically quick pace, leaving you lifeless in your lovers arms as you finally passed away. To say Nick was heart broken would have been an understatement. In fact he was broken. Totally and utterly broken without you. Without his best girl to lead him through life what was he going to do? He couldn’t live without you yet god was forcing him to. How far was that?

Without a second thought, Nick picked your limp and lifeless body up off of the floor and placed it ever so gently onto the messy bed a few steps away. Even if you were dead he still didn’t like the thought of you laying on the cold hardwood floor. “I love you y/n” were the last words that he spoke to you before a loud knock on the door followed by the door being smashed open by armed forces broke him out of his emotional state.

In that moment nick had no idea what the hell had gotten into him as he lunged forward. Of course being terribly mistaken for a threat landing him with several bullet wounds to the chest sending him straight to the floor. Had he wanted to die? Was that the plan after all? Well without the love of his life with him what was there to live for? In some twisted way he was happy to die close to you.

With what little remaining strength he had left Nick pushed himself up onto the bed as he pulled your body close to him. If he was going to die then he was going to die with you laying next to him. “I’ll.....I’ll see you soon y/n.....w.....we’ll be together....again soon...” the mover stuttered as he weakly pressed a kiss to your barely warm forehead before his body too went limp and he ‘peacefully’ drifted off into a permanent slumber. And sure enough he was reunited with his love on the other side. Both of you finally at peace.

Tag list: @cevans-fics @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @chuckbass-love

[zoefandom127]

this literally came up out of nowhere. I was thinking about this YJ fic i read a while ago when Artemis got poisoned then i started thinking about Mikasa's family line and how she has SUPER STRENGTH (don't try to argue with me, just let me believe what i want to believe lol) So i got to thinking and this is what came to be. This totally does not correlate with the plot and i think it may a little all over the place...but let's see how well i did!

The Durability of an Individual

She had never heard of another person with her last name. The last people she knew with the name Ackerman were her parents and her memory of them in her life was pretty short-lived.

Kenny the Ripper. Kenny Ackerman.

Captain Levi. Levi Ackerman.

Ackerman.

What a fucking family tree. She was related to an expert killer and a blunt, emotionless captain. Well, at least there's somewhat of a personality resemblance with Levi.

When Levi had finally brought Kenny into custody, she thought she'd get some answers. But the man was as silent as a dumbbell, refusing to say anything until his hearing. She'd been watching him be interrogated by Levi and Erwin and hoping for a little slip about her family.

Where are they from? Why were they persecuted? Where is everyone else? Anything would suffice her need to know. It had been a good ten minutes before her legs got tired and the fluorescent light started to burn her eyes. She made a beeline for the exit and was met with the afternoon breeze of Ehrmich.

"Hey." She turned to meet the voice and was met with the two boys who were always by her side.

"You okay?" Eren said with a worried expression at her dejected face. Of course, her face remained neutral but with a simple glance, he could always understand what she was feeling.

"Yeah, I just...I finally found my...I don't know what they are and—" Mikasa looked down at the floor she stood, suddenly finding the cracks in the stone pretty interesting. "I want to know more about myself. You know, where I come from, what I am, who my parents were." Her voice cracked at the end.

She felt an arm wrap around her waist and pull her body into the side of his. She heard Armin shuffle to her other side and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Letting out a heavy sigh, Mikasa laid her head on Eren's shoulder.

She typically refused to think or talk about anything that involved her parents in fear of having the memory of that night replay in her mind. It still haunted her to this day though she wished it didn't. Not just her parent's death but the people she murdered. That was enough trauma to last a century.

Before she basked too long in the presence of her friends, a door opened only to reveal a stone-faced Levi.

"Ackerman." Mikasa quickly turned her head to salute her captain, feeling Armin and Eren do the same on either side of her. Levi waved them off and set his eyes on her. "You can try to get answers out of the bastard but I guarantee he won't budge. Good luck." Levi stepped aside to allow Mikasa to enter.

Hesitating, Mikasa strode through the door, hearing her friends shuffle in behind her. Making a left on the second door of the hallway she stood before the man who was her supposed "family". Her breath hitched when she saw him bloodied and bruised. Not that she had expected anything less, this has become the Scout's forte now.

Kenny lifted his head slowly, taking in the sight in front of him. He gave a wide, toothy smile and let out what seemed to be a laugh. "Really, kid? You gave up so you sent in the girl? I know I didn't raise a quitter."

Mikasa almost flinched when he yelled the last part. "I…" Mikasa pushed her shoulders back farther than they already were and made her face colder than it was before, "You're a part of the Ackerman clan. Tell me more about them."

"Heh. Not a lot I can tell you, kid. I don't know much more than you." Kenny spoke with a menacing tone, keeping his eyes firmly on her causing her to shuffle slightly on the balls of her feet.

"You don't know anything? What about where we're from? How we got scattered? What makes us able to do the things we do?" Mikasa almost sounded desperate. "Who we were? Just give me that much."

"Sorry. Beats me." Kenny smiled condescendingly and proceeded to look Mikasa up and down escalating her discomfort. "But...you do look familiar."

Mikasa's eyes narrowed at the outward thought. She'd never met him until now so what the hell could he possibly mean by that statement.

"Ah. I get it now. You're Linda and Jamun's daughter."

Mikasa tensed immediately. Her whole body stiffened and her eyes widened, the only indications that his words surprised her. "How did you—"

"You were the girls they were after. You know I dabbled in human trafficking myself, right Levi?" He nodded his head towards the expressionless man leaning against the wall next to the door. "A real doozy business. Quit after about 3 months. But for a short while, I became the commander. You know; calling all the shots, deciding who to kill and who to take."

Mikasa felt her fists clench and unclench repeatedly, trying to figure out where he was going with this whole spiel.

"I remember seeing the name 'Ackerman' on the list and thinking 'Huh, what a small world'. Honestly, I just wanted to test if these were true Ackerman's, you know? Strength and all. Of course my men, dumbasses I'll tell you, killed one too many. I asked the system the next morning why they gave me a group of incompetent shitheads and—"

"What are you saying?" Mikasa demanded, voice shaking.

Kenny seemed a little irritated at the interruption and looked at Mikasa through one not swollen eye like she asked the dumbest question ever. "My, my. You got one almost as dumb as you, Levi." Kenny smiled a menacing smile and gave Mikasa a look that sent chills down her spine. "I sent out the order to kill your parents."

Her feet went cold. Her heart started to beat hard against her ribcage that she thought it might bust out. There was a faint calling of her name from the hallway but she couldn't quite place the voice. She stood frozen in front of "The Ripper", his smile never wavering. Her nails dug into the palms of her hand as she tried to keep her composure but even she could feel her body trembling.

"Well, parent. Singular. Like I said those men were stupid as he—" Kenny didn't even get the full sentence out before a fist made contact with his face in record time and strength. A satisfying crunch filled the silence of the room. As soon as the first hit happened it didn't stop.

Punch after punch rained upon Kenny's body and with his hands tied firmly behind his back he was left defenseless. Usually, Mikasa was the calm one. She was always level headed and never one to fight unless it's needed. But something inside of her snapped. Either it was the careless way Kenny confessed to her parent's murder or the fact that this sick man was her relative; she had no idea. All she knew was that he was in front of her and he was punchable.

"Mikasa." She faintly heard Eren's voice caution her in the background but she didn't stop. The punches became faster and more forceful. She was blinded by rage, she didn't even notice Kenny loosening himself from his bindings.

She felt multiple hands attempt to pull her back but she shrugged them off with a strength none of them could attend to.

"Ackerman!" The commanding voice stopped her in motion, her fist suspended in mid-air. She turned her head to meet Commander Erwin's calm but serious eyes. "Leave."

Her fist throbbed as she slowly lowered her arm. The shaking in her body was less prevalent but still noticeable. Her face was etched in what seemed to be a dangerous scowl as she looked around the room.

She could feel everyone's gaze on her which only made her more uncomfortable. Armin gave her the same worried look he'd give Eren when he went off the rails. The concern that showed in Eren's face was almost alarming but she paid no attention to it.

Sparing one last glance at Kenny, Mikasa turned on her heels to leave the room. But before she could get too far, a strong hand grasped her wrist with an unyielding grip. The hand yanked her forcefully towards the body it was attached to and turned her so that her arm twisted painfully behind her back.

"Ah!" Mikasa let out a cry of pain as she wiggled to release herself but the hand only tightened more around her wrist.

It happened fast. Everyone stood straight in alert and turned their attention to Mikasa in a split second. Eren's eyes scanned the scene and narrowed in a frightening way.

"Now, now. Don't resist. It'll only hurt more. Right, Levi?" Kenny spoke, sadistically.

Mikasa struggled mercilessly against his grasp, almost releasing herself but Kenny simply reevaluated his grip and squeezed harder. Her strength wasn't going to get her out of this.

As for Levi, his eyes turned dark and colder than they already were. He was starting to get tired of Kenny addressing him as if he was still his caretaker. If you could even call him that.

Kenny was always one to have tricks up his sleeve. How had he not seen it sooner?

"Let her go," Eren growled, his eyes never leaving Mikasa.

"Aw, stop being so serious, kid. Learn how to smile." Kenny chuckled in Mikasa's ear. She nearly cringed at his breath.

Mikasa's wiggles became more violent but Kenny kept his hold firm. "She definitely has that Ackerman strength," Kenny muttered as he used one hand to try to keep Mikasa still and the other to reach into the back of his pants and pull out a syringe. The syringe was filled with a clear green liquid from top to bottom.

"Levi, you remember this? 'Only a true Ackerman with immeasurable strength can take this vial'," Kenny looked at the vial then shrugged. "Or whatever bullshit that bishop told me."

Kenny positioned the needle of the syringe inches before the skin of Mikasa's neck. Eren started to charge almost immediately at the older man but Levi pushed him and spoke first.

"What do you want?" Levi all but glowered at his Uncle. Huh. Never thought he'd be saying that.

Kenny's smile grew wider, showing his bloodied teeth. "Easy there, buddy. I just wanna see what the drug does. 'Course I'm not gonna test it out on myself. That would be dumb!" He moved the vial closer to Mikasa's neck. "Nah. Why not try it on someone I don't know."

"Wait!" Eren yelled. Kenny paused his movement. "Why does it have to be her? Can't you find someone else?"

"Sorry, but it has to be Ackerman blood that takes this thing, and unfortunately, no one else but me and my stupid nephew have it in this room. It's nothing personal. Just taking advantage of the opportunity I'm given...just like I taught you, Levi."

With that, Kenny plunged the syringe into Mikasa's neck. She jutted at the sudden insertion and scrunched her face in pain as she felt the liquid be injected into her body.

Loud noises of protest filled the room. Kenny had been ripped from behind her and shoved to the ground but the damage had already been done. He just laid there with a satisfied smile as guards began to point guns at his beaten body.

It was excruciating. The substance entered her and left a fiery, hot path as it passed through the blood in her body. Her knees buckled to the floor, suddenly feeling that her body was too heavy to hold up. The veins within her boiled beneath her skin and her senses became overwhelmed.

She suddenly became aware of every scent, every sound, and everything around her. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She didn't even notice how her bruised hands reached up to cover her ears and how a guttural scream ripped from her throat. Her eyes were scrunched shut in order to block out the dim light that illuminated the room, even with how dim it was it still blinded her. She heard her name get called repeatedly from the side of her as her back hunched over but it sounded so distant.

Her eyes flung wide open as she gasped for air that was all around but couldn't seem to be inhaled by her. Wavering on her knees, she slumped to the ground. Her eyes grew too heavy to keep open and the world spun around her.

Eren's face popped into her line of sight, the panic evident on his face. She could see his mouth moving but she didn't hear a thing. Suddenly too exhausted to keep up, Mikasa's eyes shut once again, finally succumbing to the darkness that enveloped her vision.

this was really fun to write! I'm not used to adding or rewriting plots and details like this tho so i'm not sure if it's good but i like it. hopefully you guys did too!

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.6

Holy Wrath

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)       x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 2380

Summary: Things get messier. ‘Natasha Rogers’ is not the only lost soul... and God always works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?

Warnings: mentions of violent deaths and torture, amnesia, swearing, supernatural stuff... and angst with some hope in it ;)

Story masterlist

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Two businessmen faced each other in a shadowy room with unpleasantly sterile lights; an attentive eye would recognize they found themselves in a vault due to the heavy door with a golden wheel opening and the drawers lining the walls. A small army of heavily armed men along said cases created an air of being secure as much as in danger.

Just standing in such room put a weight on one’s chest – especially with the terrifying chair with straps and heavy panels ready to ruin human mind, a tranquilized man trapped in it.

Of course, one of the men facing each other, the older looking one, had no reason to feel threatened. He was simply doing business here and the army was at his side. His wrinkled face was scrunched in a grimace though, deeply discontent as he stared at the other man in no less expensive suit, but with an almost friendly glint in his eyes, a bit goofy face with a beard, framed by curly dark hair.

One would feel pressured in such space to begin with, but now, the two ‘businessmen’ built up an atmosphere nearly suffocating, a tension cuttable with a knife. The suspicious calmness of the goofy man was extremely irritating to the other.

Because clearly, they had made a mistake. A really fucking big one. The blond old man clenched his fists as he continued the rather loud conversation with the man who had showed up out of nowhere, claiming to share his interests and offering a lot of money.

Dammit, he should have known better than take an advice from him!

The mess they were in now!

“You said that killing her will bring a stop to the Avengers, because he was sickeningly in love with her,” the blond strained through his teeth, tone dangerous to cover up his growing fear for their mission. “That he will be grieving so much that he won’t be able to fight! He’s fighting like a madman!”

The dark-haired man only smiled, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Perhaps he reacted differently than we expected him to.”

“PERHAPS!!” echoed in the vault madly, making several people flinch. Not the one who was being parroted mockingly and with rage though. “He’s taking down our facilities. One. By. One!”

“Seems like fate wanted it that way. Or, you know, God’s will-“

“I don’t give a damn about God’s will!” the blond sputtered back.

His business partner made a face, his grimace as if saying ‘ouch’. His tone when he spoke up told the same tale. “Well, I…. I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”

“Why? Because the holy wrath will be set upon me? Please. There’s no God. And if there was, he sure would like me doing what-”

The blond’s bright blue eyes seemed to bulge sickeningly as his fingers reached for his throat, struggling to take a breath all of sudden, unable to finish his sentence. He stumbled back with an accusing and yet bewildered gaze, causing all of the men draw their weapons and aim them at the supposed enemy.

An enemy who only tilted his head, otherwise not doing a thing. Was he even the cause of the older man choking? He couldn’t, right?  How would he?

“Wh-ah-I..?”

With a flick of a hand, all of the soldiers fell to the ground, unconscious.

The men who were sitting at the monitoring would have seen that it happened all over the facility, hidden in one of the biggest bank in Washington, but they didn’t – they lost consciousness as well.

The goofy man gave his partner a tight-lipped smile, almost patronizing.

“Ah. I don’t know. ‘He who lies in His name shall choke on his own false tongue’ feels pretty real now, doesn’t it?” he exclaimed and repeated the motion that had sent all of the armed men to the floor. He pointed at his hand then, grinning like a kid, genuinely excited. “I love to do that for effect. I don’t have to, a thought would be enough, but the dramatics is exceptional.”

He snapped his fingers then, suddenly standing in front the choking man in more comfortable clothes of jeans and lose plaid shirt. He allowed the other man to breathe in so he wouldn’t pass out; yet, he wouldn’t be able to speak just yet.

“If I had let you continue your… master plan without my good advice, you just might have succeeded,” he hummed, strolling through the sea of sleeping men, careful not to step on any. He shook his head, a parent’s disproval, a disappointed Father regretting not raising his sons better. “But humans, like every other creations, no matter how beautiful, are flawed. Money, oh money… why are you, my children so greedy, so trustful to anyone who offers you a coin….”

“Grzhmchr-“ was the only sound leaving the other man’s throat as he fell to his knees, fear flashing in his eyes along with more and more confusion.

“What can I say. Nobody’s perfect. And strings of fate are funny things when played right… they can orchestrate a lovely sound,” the dark-haired man mused, turning to face his former partner fully. “Have a good day, Director Pierce. The Avengers should find you here at their next mission.”

With the last words spoken, Director Pierce’s grip on his own throat eased and his body fell limp to the ground. The other man smiled when he saw his chest rise and fall periodically, assured none of these men were actually dead. That wasn’t the plan, after all. They needed to face a different kind of justice.

He glanced at the electric chair then and the man lying there, breathing shallow, heart-rate alarmingly low for anyone but him and one more person whose cells had been modified to endure almost anything… even an explosion despite running straight into it.

“Ah, such troubled soul…” the powerful man sighed longingly, his face twisting with sympathy no one had provided to the prisoner not only of war, but also his own body. He walked to him slowly, a healing hand hovering over the man’s forehead. “You lived through more than you should have, my friend. You shall start your healing.”

The soft light shone above the pale skin, gently sweeping in, illuminating the veins running over the surface, disappearing in the messy hairline. The lying man blinked his eyes open and quickly backed into the backrest before his training kicked in.

It was just such a confusing wake-up. He felt too lightheaded, his chest less constricted than usual, missing a crushing weight. His thoughts… flowed in an unfamiliar way – a way he forgot that existed. His instincts screamed to reach for the other man’s throat to grab him and interrogate him, because he wasn’t his master, but… at the same time, he didn’t quite want to do that. No one told him to do so. He felt uneasy and bewildered, yes, but not in danger.

Still, he listened to his training and his hand shot up, only to grasp thin air. The man had already moved away, causing the freshly woken up man blink in surprise and break his bonds instinctively to follow.

But the man, who had forced him to wake up after they had sedated him, smiled at him kindly. It scared the shit out of him, not that he would admit it. Kindness scared him – he wasn’t used to it, not really, not anymore. Whenever someone showed some, it came with a price of a human life. Now, his mind flooded with images of empty eyes, accusing him of doing the wrong thing instead of a right one as he had been promised.

And this man was to blame for these overwhelming sensations, perhaps was responsible of the men on the floor too.

Were those… masters of his… unconscious? Dead? No, no dead, their chest was rising and falling. Only not conscious then. Who the hell was this man?

“Who-what-?” he choked out, glaring at the stranger. Why hadn’t he attacked him yet? Didn’t give him an order, said the words that… would they still do that to him? That… that thing when his body wasn’t quite his? Flip the switch?

The switch… it seemed to be missing now. Where the hell had it gone?

“Sergeant Barnes, welcome back.”

“How- what did you-- who are you?” Barnes finally sat up straight, his head swimming unpleasantly. He overcame it and forced himself to stand.

Holy shit, the world was spinning. Also, it wasn’t any making sense, sending one confusing signal after another. Barnes’ mind was a mess. He remembered this was his name, even though lately he had been called that name rather mockingly, more used to being a soldat.

The only other conscious man held out his hand as if in a comforting gesture.

“Easy. I’m not here to hurt you. But unless you want to be found by the Avengers, by heroes who include your best friend, you better go find your peace and meet them when you’re ready.”

Forget about the world not making sense. Now it went entirely crazy.

Best friend. Steve. Could this man talk about Steve? Avengers? Who the hell were the Avengers? So many images flickered through his head, but it didn’t include any… Avengers. Images of the past, tens of years ago, clear and sharp as they shouldn’t be, an angry tiny blond swaying his fists and wishing to take on the world and then suddenly growing several inches, and all of that mingled with fragments of memories not quite his and yet his only. What year was it anyway?

He grasped on the only thing that seemed to comfort him, ground him, the only thing he was sure of.

“My best friend? It’s… is Steve still alive? It’s been about seventy years-“ Right? “-on and off— how do I know that? Shit, what did I do?”

The empty eyes staring at him. Oh god, the empty eyes... life vanishing under his hands – a flesh one and a metal one – hands crimson with blood…

His breathing picked up, his head pounding with an ache unknown and the other man grimaced again at the agony he saw. He didn’t think he should interfere more though – Barnes needed to deal with this on his own terms.

“Calm down, James. None of that was your fault and until you accept that, you’d better off without them. The Avengers,” he explained, but the soldier would have none of it, the horrifying images, feeling so disgustingly wrong as his little soul had been locked in a mind of a dull servant, crying when taking a life.

“I… the things I did, oh my god-”

“You are not to blame for what they forced you to do. I could make you forget, but that would only complicate things,” the bearded man thought out loud, only brining more chaos with his words. He tried his best to sound soothing. “Try to forgive yourself and when the time is right… you’ll see your friend again.”

“He might be dead by then!” Barnes blurted out, suddenly overtaken by panic. Steve was alive. If this man was right and Steve was alive – how did he know that, who was he, how- Steve. That little punk letting the army experiment on him only to- where was he, how was he, what- “He’s like… what year it is exactly?”

“2013,” came the resigned reply.

“He’s ninety-five. Ninety-five! If he’s still l alive, I have to see him!”

The calmer man held out his hand again when the soldier unmistakably headed to the exit. “He’s been met with nearly same fate, James. Do not worry about his vessel. He is well. I mean… kinda. He’s been on edge, lately.”

Barnes wavered. This man had been gentle with him, as if he wanted to help. He knew way too many things, probably not lying so far. It was all kinds of fishy.

“Alright, I’m gonna ask again. Who are you?” the soldier demanded, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t feel the need to actually attack the man and he didn’t know why and he was afraid and confused and everything hurt, his arm felt heavy despite the muscles adapting ages ago and he had to see Steve if he was still freaking alive and- but after everything he had done--

“You’re not asking the right questions. Go, James. Find your place in the world again and learn about what happened to your friend,” the man advised again patiently. He beckoned to the men on the floor; instinctively, Bucky knew they were bad. Rotten even, and not just because he could suddenly see through all their lies. How, by the way? “Leave these men for the Avengers to find. They are not your problem, I’ll take care of them. You’re free now.”

Bucky Barnes looked around, not assured. His heart was racing, almost as fast as his mind. He had messed up the world, hadn’t he? The least he could so was to deliver these men to… what, police? Justice?

“But-“ he started up defensively, but out of blue, he found himself in a dark alley – and the man was still facing him.

What the fuck got him here and was this man some sort of a… was magic a thing? This couldn’t be result of some serum, right?

“You-“

“Go,” the man asked of him kindly, adding a smile that looked even goofy, in a stark contrast to his serious eyes. “What you saw, that’s how the justice will find them.”

Was this guy a friggin’ mind-reader too?!

“What the hell?!” Bucky just choked out, frantically scanning his surroundings.

Where was he anyway? The noise of today’s world was hurting his ears. What was he supposed to do? He only knew mission for the past decades, his will not even his own, how was he supposed to proceed?

Finding peace as the man had told him wasn’t exactly a precise order – and yet it was, the most difficult order he could remember receiving.

“Goodbye,” said the man for a good measure, walking away and leaving the poor soldier dumbstruck in a foreign city, in a foreign life.

Barnes stared after him, unable to say a word, unable to move a single muscle. Then, before disappearing among the people roaming the streets in what could be a very late hour, the mysterious powerful man glanced over his shoulder with a last smile and whispered barely audible – not for supersoldier’s ears though.

“Oh, and Bucky? Name’s Chuck.”

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Part 7

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Alternative chapter title – Let’s Make Things a Bit Messier ;) If you didn’t watch Supernatural, Chuck is… Chuck is a powerful being and you might have figured out who exactly… yes, SPN went there.

One more surprise appearance in the next chapter ;)

Thank you for reading! 

[justinstolemybike]

sigh. season 3. here we are. 

i watched the first five episodes and... i felt so uncomfortable. it was bad. not all bad but... pretty bad. so bad, that it wasn’t enjoyable for me and i didn’t care to watch it all the way through, so i read other spoilers and i am not sure if i will watch the final season. but with it being said that i did not watch the whole thing, this can’t be a full review. so, here comes my first glance. spoilers obviously. 

instead of weaknesses and highlights, lets just say likes and dislikes. likes first.

LIKES

- tyler’s storyline. last season, i was skeptical of how they would handle his rape and emotions about it, but i am relieved they gave his character proper care and devin druid did a magnificent job. my only gripe is that i wish they had him do something other than boxing to channel his anger. like, i understand why he would be learning self defense but i would like to see him do something less violent?? 

- jessica’s reclaiming of her body. at first the whole intro to the sex toys was weird but it actually was really touching (no pun intended) to see jessica begin to love her body and love sex again after what she’s been through. also, female masturbation is so underrated. nice to see it encouraged. know your bodies, ladies. 

- the classic jensen tour. i’m surprised they still allow him to do the tours. like, none of the exchange students from the last time reported him? oh.

- chloe and the abortion. as a character, i don’t care for chloe, i’m sorry. she’s not a character to me, just a plot device. also, she gets no cookies for lying for bryce in the trials (i know abusers and victims have a twisted dynamic and that’s why that happened but nah chief) but i do like how they showed that some pro-life clinics will mask as abortion clinics and manipulate women into coming and trying to get them to keep their babies. totally real and fucked up.

- bryce was held socially accountable (kind of) and i think that makes an interesting point about rape culture. in the real world, jail doesn’t scare men in power because they can buy their way out. they don’t care about women and what they feel, obviously. what’ll really fuck sexual assaulters up is when they have no friends and no one likes them. that’s what they (kind of) showed with bryce this season. and he died which, yes fucking rad awesome wow.

- i know that justin also had a kind of darker storyline (with seth, i think? you can tell me if i’m wrong but don’t be rude) but he was a lot of the comic relief it appears and brandon flynn was great at it.

- alex and jessica broke up. hallelujah.

- justin is a abuse survivor. makes sense with his background. 

- monty died too AND went to jail. cool amazing beautiful.

- tony is still ferociously loyal and apparently there was a scene where clay and tony said they loved each other. rise clony. rise up from the ashes.

- “i write fanfiction” - clay jensen.

DISLIKES

-ani. ani, ani, ani. i can understand why people find her annoying and she was probably the biggest reason i was uncomfortable watching but i didn’t hate her. she just... didn’t make sense. the things she did,the things she said, how she was involved and everyone just takes to her and loves her immediately, no questions asked, no buildup necessary... none of it felt natural or believable. a new girl comes in and it’s just a coincidence that clay gives her a tour and she decides to go up to jessica and says shes amazing and lives in bryce’s house and connects herself to the house of horrors that is the tape club (which was so dumb on the tape club’s part by the way, as she could have snitched and destroyed them all) instead of just finishing out her high school career in peace considering she moves around a lot and she starts college in a year and half and probably won’t talk to any of them after that. no, she’d rather potentially go to jail for a bunch of fucking strangers and criminals and rapists. sure, okay.

and for someone who just fucking got there to basically insert themselves in the traumas of these kids and make things worse in some respects and do some fucking shitty things (not listening or caring when she heard about bryce being a GODDAMN RAPIST, accusing jessica of SLEEPING WITH HER RAPIST, accusing clay of being the killer, yelling about chloe’s pregnancy in the street, the list probably gets longer) and think they’re allowed to pass judgment when THEY JUST FUCKING GOT THERE. LIKE, WHY IS SHE SO INVESTED? WHAT DOG DOES SHE HAVE IN THIS FIGHT? DOESN’T SHE NEED TO STUDY OR SOMETHING? WHY IS THIS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANYTHING ELSE SHE HAS GOING ON IN HER LIFE?

now, i get what the show was trying to do here. they wanted another, fresh perspective/narrator and i guess a love interest for clay (a wayyyy too convenient love interest, ‘she loves robots and drawing and not minding her business too! swoon!). but they could’ve had both of those things without adding someone to the payroll. honestly, i don’t think they needed a narrator at all but if they really wanted one, they could’ve added an ACTUAL ADULT detective, with no biases so they can be completely reliable to the audience and their investment would be justified. for love interest, yall already know how much i love and miss sheri. she could check clay without sounding patronizing and had chemistry with him and actual nice, romantic history. she could have been his second cop and they could have reconnected and become a couple and... we could’ve had it all, rolling in the deeeppp. 

it’s like with ani, the show wanted to kill two birds with one stone but they missed them both and i think the backlash on her character says it all. i’d just like to remind everyone to give the actress who plays ani respect and courtesy because it’s not her fault. 

- was it just me, or does it seem like the tape club has learned nothing from what they went through? they’re still keeping secrets and trying to hide shit and keep it all inside and i’m like..... but.... this behavior is what got ya’ll fucked up in the first place? and i totally understand it’s about protection and whatever but.... it also feels like an excuse to not be held accountable for wrong doing. like, alex killed bryce. although he had all the reasons to do it and i’m glad he’s dead, he killed someone fam. that’s not okay. and his dad is wrapped up and it’s just... i just... i dont know. then, there was the whole “let’s not tell on tyler so he doesn’t go to jail” thing and i have mixed feelings about that. i think they should’ve turned him in and got clay’s mom to rep him for rehabilitation and therapy instead of a jail sentence. they’re hiding the guns and trying to trust tyler and luckily that worked, but how long? what if someone fucks with him again and it’s too much for them to help him with? 

- speaking of help, clay needs it. oh my god, does that boy need it. they were so focused on getting tyler professional help but, clay’s out here putting guns to his head and having night terrors. he needs therapy more than anyone. honestly, what i would have liked to see, wayyy back in s2, is as soon as justin saw that, he wouldve went to clay’s parents and got him back on his meds and seeing a counselor. he’s been through so much trauma and guilt and he’s tired of his own fucking hero complex. it’s enough man. 

- they tried to have their cake and eat it too when it came to clay stopping tyler from shooting up the school. they tried to be like, clay shouldn’t have done that but oh, he was so brave and what a great guy he is for doing that. no, that doesn’t work. clay should not have confronted tyler in that situation. period.

- zach was disappointing because i agreed wholeheartedly when he said that they should have called the cops but... he didn’t. he was blaming them for letting tyler go free but he was too. damn, zach.

- it’s like they give clay a new lackey every season and.... ok, i guess.

- i also thought it was kind of weird that after everything they’ve been through, they still walk on eggshells with each other? like i guess because now we’re dealing with murder but... i would think they would trust and care for each other a lot more than to accuse each other and spy and interrogate and not just simply ask... like... this season made me not understand the tape club’s relationship. like are they friends? allies? allies trying to be friends? friends out of necessity? do they know? 

- bryce does not deserve to be humanized. that’s all.

- monty does not deserve to be humanized. that’s all. also, it’s so disappointingly predictable that he’s closeted. 

- the new characters (ani, caleb, chloe, winston, cyrus ) i still don’t care about. plot devices, all.

i may edit and retract some things, should i decide to watch all the way but i’m tired.

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [7/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: N/A

First Chapter

Author’s Note(s): Apologies for the wait. As you may know I had an adventure with my dropbox wherein I backed up all my files because I had to restore my laptop, and all of the files ended up mixed up in the wrong folders and I've been tracking down files one by one for the past week. I hate technology. I mean, I guess I should be happy the files didn't get deleted, but it's still a pain in the ass to re-organize manually.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

Tim stares at the business card in his hand long after Jason disappears, thumbing over the false name and phone number with a reverence once reserved for clandestinely captured photographs.

Victor Shelley, Paranormal Investigator.

He wonders if Jason was trying to be funny choosing that name. Given what Tim’s heard about him in the few instances where Dick or Alfred talk about him, and what he saw for himself in the past, he thinks it’s entirely likely.

God, Dick and Alfred.

He knows they’re going to be just as blindsided about this as Bruce when they find out.

If they find out.

Guilt flickers through him now at the promise he made to Jason.

Why the hell would he promise a man he doesn’t really know—a man he’s spent a grand total of an hour and twenty-three minutes in conversation with—that he won’t let his adopted father knows he’s not dead.

That he hasn’t been dead for years.

That he’s in Gotham right now.

Tim wishes he could say it was one hundred percent his shock at Jason being alive, but that would be lying to himself. His mind flashes back to Jason’s face, his slow smirk and the smooth, deep voice, and he swears, letting his head fall against the counter.

Apparently, I promised him because he’s pretty.

It’s a new feeling for Tim. He’s never been easily swayed by looks, but something about Jason is attractive enough to put him off-guard, or at least loosen his lips more than normal.

I thought I was over this…

“I know that face.”

Tim startles and glances up at the bartender—Trista—who he had forgotten was there. He’d forgotten he was sitting in a bar, to be honest.

“Judging by the ass on that man, I can guess what it’s about,” she continues in a wry tone. Then she’s sliding a shot of amber liquid toward him. “Here. To steady your nerves.”

Tim stares at the alcohol in numb confusion.

“That’s on the house, but only because he talked more with you tonight than I’ve seen him do with anyone since he got here,” she goes on. “We’ll both pretend I don’t know you’re underage.”

Tim is too flustered by everything she’s just said to do anything other than accept the shot under her knowing gaze. Then, he beats a hasty retreat from the bar as fast as humanly possible without it looking like he’s running away.

Distracted, he returns to his apartment in the Theater District, trying to parse the events of the night from an objective viewpoint. He’s not entirely sure he didn’t dream it all up, considering whatever that incubus did to him, and so he runs tox-screens on his blood and gives himself a full physical just to make sure.

Other than spikes in several hormone levels—adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin—his results are normal. Nothing that would really alter his perceptions of reality, the way Scarecrow or Poison Ivy’s concoctions tend to do.

That confirmed, he should be able to leave the matter alone for now. There are more pressing matters to deal with—Dante’s continued disappearance being one of them.

But thoughts of Jason continue to assault Tim’s thoughts.

Something has been bothering him since his conversation with Jason, something he wondered before but couldn’t ask because Jason got skittish and made a run for it

How the hell did Constantine cross paths with Jason anyway?

Aside from his inexplicable presence in Gotham at some point in the past five years without attracting the attention of Batman, what would interest him in a teenaged John Doe with no identity or memory?

Sliding into the chair in front of the computer in the Nest, Tim calls up the autopsy report, even though he doesn’t really need to see it. He memorized it years ago. Still, if he’s going to investigate this, he needs concrete facts, not just his memory.

It’s not difficult to create a timeline of events, between Jason’s official death and now. Or to search a list of John Does at various hospitals in Gotham within the last five to ten years, whose condition upon admittance matches the description of Jason’s injuries at death.

He finds the information he’s looking for within twenty minutes.

As it turns out, things didn’t happen quite as neatly or quickly as Jason’s story suggested. His stay at Gotham General was a lot longer than he let on, and Tim’s stomach twists as he reads the medical reports.

Various physicians left their comments on the patient, a young man of about fifteen or sixteen, severely beaten and malnourished, picked up several miles from the hospital.

The file includes a mugshot of a heavily bandaged youth, head shaved from what records indicate were several procedures to repair brain bleeds, skull, and facial fractures. Bruises and swelling make his features almost unrecognizable, except to someone who has memorized pictures of that face since he was ten years old. Someone who knows the cut of that jaw and the color of those eyes, however bleary and vacant they are as they stare into the camera.

“God, Jason…”

Tim reads over the doctors’ notes that span the course of a year, cataloging how well the boy is healing considering the heavy damage he sustained, and how he would be considered a miracle patient but for the fact whatever happened to him caused significant brain damage.

Clear psychological damage, hearing voices, incapable of speech, easily upset.

On several occasions, the boy became unaccountably terrified, screaming and yelling and trying to claw out his own eyes. Sometimes it even became violent, and in his struggles, he put three doctors, a nurse and two orderlies in the emergency room.

I’m surprised it was only that many people. Considering his training, he could have done a lot more damage.

Eventually, he always had to be drugged and restrained.

Demonic possession, maybe?

It’s not the first thing Tim would think of, but if Constantine’s involved in all this, it would make sense. And coming back from the dead like Jason says he did, it had to have side effects.

Except, there’s no mention of anything superhuman or beyond the realm of possibility regarding Jason’s strength. Surely the doctors would have made note of anything beyond the abilities of a normal, scared teenager—especially in Gotham, where strange behavior was a sad norm.

No mention of anything resembling supernatural or metahuman abilities anywhere here.

Jason was eventually placed permanently in the psych ward and likely would have stayed there for the rest of his days, except the hospital’s budget was cut in his eighth month there. Space issues required moving patients to other hospitals, and—

“Oh, no. No-no-no, tell me they didn’t,” Tim murmurs, heart sinking as he scrolls down the page of the report, knowing exactly what he’s going to find.

They sent him to Arkham.

If Tim was horrified before by the notion of Jason’s resurrection and his condition afterward, it’s nothing to how sick he feels to learn that his predecessor was sent to the cesspool that is Arkham Asylum.

He needs to turn away from his computer for a few seconds and breathe, close his eyes and concentrate on not hearing the lilting, singsong voice and tinny voice in his head.

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

Ever since his kidnapping, it’s the one place in Gotham Tim won’t venture—he’s not sure what would happen if he did. Whether he’d suffer a crippling attack of flashbacks, or march into the high security ward and slit the Joker’s throat with one of his birdarangs.

If Bruce realized Tim honestly can’t decide which would be the worse outcome, he knows he’d be benched for the rest of his life. He might not be Robin anymore, but the Family would find a way.

It’s fear of that more than anything else that helps him get a handle on his panic, tethers him back to reality better than anything else. Tim takes another series of deep, grounding breaths, before he feels confident enough to be able to get back to his research into Jason.

At least they didn’t put him anywhere near the Joker, it seems, he notices as he goes through the room assignments and Arkham floorplans. That’s about the only good thing about it, though.

Jason’s ward was for the non-communitive patients, the ones the experts considered untreatable. The ones that get forgotten about in the mayhem of the monthly outbreaks and pandemonium.

Tim’s stomach clenches tight again as he remembers incidents and dates over the years where Batman visited inmates at Arkham to interrogate them on the latest escapes or crimes happening in the city, or just to test the security there. Based on the location of Jason’s cell and Batman’s usual route, there are times when the two were only a floor apart

Tim’s heart aches for them both.

They were so close to each other! If only they’d known—!

And just as suddenly as Jason was transferred to Arkham, all records of him vanish. There’s no information about patient transfers or deaths or releases; instead, like many a nameless patient to be lost to the asylum over the years, he just vanishes.

People don’t just vanish. And in this case, I know he didn’t.

Tim goes on to cross-reference the potential dates of Jason’s disappearance with any visitors to the asylum. It doesn’t take much to identify the only visitor to the asylum for a span of weeks as a certain Chandler Ravenscar—names which another quick search link to aliases used by John Constantine in the past.

That brings Tim to a whole other avenue of research, refocusing him investigation on Constantine himself and his movements over the past years. He tends to keep to the UK, but every now and again travels to various mystical hotspots around the world.

There’s a backlog of security footage to weed through, occultist forums discussing the man and his exploits. Half of what’s written about him online is clearly conspiracy theories, a quarter of it related to some punk rock band called Mucous Membrane and something to do with the Reagan assassination. Those who have actually worked with him either seem too terrified or pissed off to say much about him.

Even harder is finding a video of the man; cameras and other surveillance devices appear to stop working around him. It’s even more of a challenge to catch a glimpse of the teenaged assistant that starts being mentioned several months after Jason’s disappearance from Arkham.

A chance freeze-frame from an airport in Beijing, however, is all Tim needs to confirm it’s Jason.

It’s hours later when Tim sits back, exhausted but now having at least a general timeline of what happened.

One thing is for damn sure—I can’t take this to Bruce.

The story is too painful, too unbelievable. If it doesn’t break him all over, it will have him lashing out at Tim for making up stories about a touchy subject. There’s enough tension between them both right now that he’s likely to question anything suspect Tim brings to him.

Or he would insist it was a trick, that someone had faked all of this. He wouldn’t take Tim’s word for it, would investigate himself, prepare himself for an interrogation when what Jason needs is to have a face to face with his adopted father and mentor.

And Jason’s story still has too many holes in it for Tim to tell it, begging more questions than answers.

Like why Constantine took you from Arkham in the first place. And also…there’s one other thing that doesn’t make sense.

Well, a lot of things don’t make sense, but this stands out.

Tim goes back to the hospital records, scanning for the section where he remembers reading the information.

John Doe’s injuries in the medical files are all consistent with those in Jason’s autopsy, with every scar and broken bone accounted for and described.

Except for an autopsy scar.

That would have been the first thing medical professionals remarked upon when Jason was admitted, but it’s not mentioned anywhere. Which must mean that somehow, Jason no longer has it.

So why did that heal and nothing else did? Could it have something to do with what brought him back?

There’s a sudden dull, clunk in the background and the slide of elevator doors, and Tim glances up to watch Stephanie Brown stride into his base of operations.

“I was on the way out and Babs sent me to check on you,” she tells him. “Apparently someone missed work today without calling in and isn’t answering their phone.”

Tim startles at that, glances at the clock in the corner of his screen and swears when he realizes she’s right. He was supposed to be at Wayne Enterprises an hour ago. When he glances at his cellphone, he sees twelve text messages and three missed calls from Lucius, Dick and Bruce.

“I didn’t even notice,” he groans. He was so caught up in finding out more about Jason that he lost track of time. He quickly taps out a group message reassuring them he’s fine and will be in soon.

“At least being flaky is characteristic of billionaire teenagers,” Steph says as she wanders over.

Tim quickly minimizes his search and swivels around in his seat to face her. “Why are you even awake this early?”

Given the way she spends her nights, Steph made a point of having all of her classes in the afternoon. She’s possibly less of a morning person than Tim is, to the point where even coffee doesn’t make her a little more human.

“Blame my new roommate,” she grumbles, and that earns a surprised look because it’s the first time he’s heard of this. “Right, I didn’t tell you, did I? So, a couple of weeks ago this cat shows up on the fire-escape outside my window. And I didn’t mean to feed it, but it looked so sad and pathetic and I had to, so now it won’t leave me alone. What am I supposed to do? I don’t have time to be a pet owner.”

“Cat’s don’t actually take that much care.”

“That’s what they want you to think. And then one cat becomes two, and two becomes three and the next thing I know, I’m going to be the crazy cat lady on the block,” Steph complains. “And not to cool, sexy, Selina kind of cat lady but the sad, single shut-in.”

“You could never be a shut-in. No four walls can keep your raw joie de vivre inside,” Tim says in a flat tone.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” She frowns in confusion. “Are we in an on-again or an off-again right now? I forget.”

Tim remembers Jason’s cocky grin and muscular thighs and his mouth goes dry. “Off. Definitely off.”

Steph’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “That was weirdly assertive. Am I sensing a pretty girl behind that sentiment? Do I need to give a shovel talk?” Something occurs to her and she scowls. “It’s not that Lynx chick, is it? Trust me when I say that would be a bad idea.”

“There’s no girl,” Tim mumbles. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” she allows, slow and still somewhat dubious. “But you’d tell me, right? If you were seeing someone? Only so I don’t go crossing lines or causing jealous rage or something.”

“There’s nothing going on, yes I would tell you, can we please move on?” Tim huffs. “Tell me about your cat.”

“He’s not my cat.”

“You fed him, he’s your cat.”

“Stop changing the subject. You’re being evasive—there so is a girl.”

“There’s no girl!” Tim groans, half tempted to tug at his hair. “Who could look at another woman after being with you?”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or as an insinuation I was so horrible that I turned you off women for good,” Steph says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. A beat later, she tilts her head to one side as if something has occurred to her. “Wait. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s a guy. This someone’s a guy. You know you can tell me, right? That would totally be okay—would actually explain a lot, actually—you know, you liking guys—”

“One guy does not equate guys.”

“Oh my god! There is! There’s a guy!” Steph squeals. “Who is it? It’s that friend of yours, that went missing, isn’t it? Dante something? That’s why you’ve been so obsessed with finding him!”

“I’m determined to find him because he’s my friend,” Tim counters, a bit irritated. “The same way I’d be determined to find Ives or Bernard or anyone I cared about. And I’d be doing that right now if someone wasn’t distracting me.”

Two someones, but she doesn’t need to know about Jason’s role in it.

“And I’d believe that if you weren’t looking at me like you wanted to jump out of your skin. There’s something going on here, Ex-Boy Wonder.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Lies!”

“For something to be going on, you have to actually spend more than an hour with someone. You have to have known them for more than an hour.”

“Not if you have chemistry,” Steph points out. “Sometimes, it’s just like. Bang.” She grins. “And then you have to bang.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Do I need to give you the safe sex talk?” Steph asks with concern that’s only half teasing. “The gay-sex safe sex talk? Because to be honest, I don’t think I’d be able to do it with a straight face.”

“Steph, that was awful. As a former Robin, you should be ashamed.”

“And as a former Robin, you should be better at lying. So, spill. What’s going on?”

Tim studies her, chewing on his tongue; he knows she won’t let it go unless he gives her something. “Okay. Fine.”

“Hah! I knew it!”

“Not that. This is…something else,” he says. “Sort of.”

“Okay?”

“What would you do if…say you found out something really important to a person you care about. But you promised someone else you wouldn’t tell anyone about that something because of…reasons. Personal reasons.”

Steph crosses her arms. “Is this about me?”

“Not everything is about you.”

“Then it’s about Mystery Boy.”

“It’s not about—” Tim gives up, and then sighs, because it’s just easier to give her that one. “Fine. It’s Mystery Boy. He asked me not to say something that’s really important. I figure it’s because he wants to say himself in his own time. Except. Except it’s a huge thing.”

“Starbucks discontinuing pumpkin spice lattes’ huge, or ‘Hush trying to destroy B’ huge?”

“Closer to the second. Not dangerous like that,” he adds quickly when he sees her face. “It’s just…serious stuff that could hurt if it’s not handled the right way. Or if certain parties found out later and thought they were having stuff kept from them.”

“Well, now I’m curious…”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I know that. I’m just saying.” Steph sticks out her tongue at him, but then becomes contemplative. “I guess I’d keep my mouth shut. Or try to, at least. Stuff like that always tends to come out eventually. But if you’re worried it could hurt someone, maybe you can convince Mystery Boy it’s in his best interest to tell someone.”

“Yeah, that didn’t go over too well.”   

“Well, whatever you do, don’t get into your micromanaging, control-freak headspace,” she tells him. “That’s one of the things that torpedoed you and me, and if you want things to work out with this guy, you should respect his wishes.”

“I never said anything about wanting anything to work out with anyone,” Tim protests. “I just met the guy.”

“And somehow he got you to promise not to tell something that’s apparently really important. Which means you already value him somehow, and that only happens to you when you really like someone. Also, you might be able to straight-up bluff Batman or Ra’s al Ghul, but I know how you look when you like someone and don’t want anyone to know it.” There’s a beeping noise and Steph digs out her cellphone. “And with those pearls of wisdom, I have to get going. My mom found the cat and she’s having a conniption.”

She turns to leave, pauses once she enters the elevator and turns back around, jabbing a finger at him.

“Shower, eat, go to work, stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Tim bristles. “Yes, Mother.”

“Oh, you did not just go there,” she growls as the elevator doors close and Tim grins until she’s gone.

He knows that Steph’s right, to a certain extent. This whole Jason thing isn’t his business—he was only ever an outside observer, a legacy after the fact. And even if it was his business, it’s not his predecessor’s sensibilities he should be protecting.

Ill-advised crush aside, he doesn’t have any connection loyalty to Jason Todd. He does owe Bruce—he should be going straight to him about this.

Except…

Except, Tim really doesn’t want to be added to the list of people who betrayed Jason’s trust. Especially given how fragile it is given their short acquaintance.

Tim groans and leans back against his chair, wishing for an easy solution. He’s usually able to figure out what to do, even when it comes down to the hard choices.

“Stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Steph’s right.

He’ll do as Jason asked.

Or, at least he’ll give it a week.

If he hasn't figured out any other way to deal with the situation, he'll go to Bruce.

In the meantime—he has an investigation to get back to.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

[eyeloch]

For fun, and to remind myself how to write, I figured I’d write up a DnD 5e one-shot I played yesterday.

How to make this less dry?  Well, this here little chunk of words would be how my character for it, Dyne Freeborn, might tell it many years later.  Therefore, if I make any mistakes, then they’re in-character and it’s not me being wrong!

Take a glance down the right dark alley, and you’d see - well you’d see nothing, if you knew what was good for you.  If you had more curiosity than sense, though, you might spy a door.  A grimy door, well hidden, but there nevertheless.

Venture inside, and you’d find a surprisingly-lively little pub.  Decent ale and spirits.  Good wine - long as you bought it yourself.  Or stole it.

Today though, the wine was mediocre at best.  More importantly, however, there was something of a celebrity within.  Well, perhaps it’d more more accurate to call him an infamous figure.  Celebrities typically aren’t on the run from multiple countries.  Or, at least, not on the run for arson, prison breaks and inciting violent mobs.

Drunk off cider (and the atmosphere), a certain Dyne Freeborn - the celebrity in question, if you haven’t already guessed - was in a jolly mood.  True, he might be laying low in a succession of safe houses yet again, but such was life.

The sooty-coloured hair of the half-elf was now steely with age.  Slight crows-feet collected below his dark eyes - often lively with mirth, no matter what troubles life threw at him.  If it wasn’t for the soul of the phoenix dwelling within him, he’d probably have been content to just be the life of the party.

Instead, he was on the run once more, and feeling a tad reflective that night.  As the bartender refilled his tankard, Dyne began his story...

I’ve always been freeborn by name and nature, mates, but I wasn’t always so selfless.  Here he paused for a round of chuckles.  Nah, it was back in me youth that I really found me life’s calling.  And, like today, it all started in a pub.  More or less, at least...

See, I woke up after some drinks, not sure where I was.  Yeah, yeah, laugh it up - it has happened the normal way too!  ...but see, this wasn't me bein' blackout drunk.  Nah, this was me drugged - slipped the old sleep herbs like I was some amateur (though I 'spose I was back then).

So yeah, I wake up tied down - not the first time, mind you - and obviously I try my little magic touch on the ropes.  Turns out the rotten things weren't actually rotten - pretty well made, and (unfortunately) a little too damp for me ignition to do much more than make a bad smell.  

So, as I'm weighing up the pros and cons of starting a little bonfire under meself (I'll admit - as a Freeborn, I can get a little riled when I'm tied down), I spy someone else, shimmying out of their own bindings!  Now, obviously, I call out to them - ask the elf to free the Freeborn - and they're nice enough to oblige.  Still, as we made some makeshift tools to break out of the outhouse we'd been stuffed into, I began to realise that this was some kind of copper.  Not the usual sort - they're not as acrobatic, and they don't tend to cope so well when they wake up after a druggin' - but a copper none the less! 

Turns out, just beyond the door, there was a whole lotta birds!  No, no, not the fun kind - well, unless you like watching scavengers pick at a fresh corpse. (Tiamat’s arse, Gerard, you have a problem!)

...anyway, I’m planning me old razzle dazzle on these winged blighters, when the copper - Tíu was their name, if I remember things rightly - convinces me we should just leg it to the other cabin they’d spied.  Well, I didn’t need to be told twice!  

So, luckily these birds weren’t much interested in prey that’d fight back, and we made our way to the other pile of kindling without much fuss.  There we found two things - another fresh corpse and, more importantly, our stuff!  The copper, as you expect, does a little digging - and manages to rope me into helping case the joint.  I go along with ‘em - hey, Tiala, sometimes we have to - and soon enough we’re going down another path.  Not a city path, mates, nor a garden path - but a simple trod load of grass.

Now, not long after that, we come across a lady - fellow half-elf, if me memory serves me right.  Nasty old wound she had - right on the cusp o’ death.  Now, obviously, the copper tries their best to patch her up.  (Yeah Sul, I do mean obviously - some of ‘em are decent sorts, and you should always work out if they are.  It makes them easier to manipulate, once you know what they burn for.)

Anyway, since I was feeling in a generous mood that day, I managed to succeed where the law had failed.  I knew even less about medicine then than I do now - but I could still tie a decent tourniquet, when the need should arise.  Used some of me favourite shirt to do it too!

Having gotten meself a decent read on old Tíu, I spun the elf a quick yarn about how they’d have to chose if their duty was to punish or to protect.  Yeah, it could have blown up in me face, but it didn’t!  Instead, I used me old quarterstaff - yes the non-magical one, I was decades from getting the one I have now - and a similar branch to fashion a hammock with a spare cape.

So burdened, we strode on.  Turns out this particular copper liked to travel between towns - liked their maps and charts - and so he got us safely to a tiny little “village” in the arse end of nowhere.  “Westbridge”, if I can remember, was pretty much just a single farming family.  A single family who wasn’t too chuffed that we’d wandered in with one of their enemies in a stretcher!

Still, Tíu did what coppers do best, and convinced people that they were really on his side.  I wasn’t complaining, though, since I did get a free meal out of it!

So, anyway. He smiles into another empty flagon of cider, waving for for a refill, before continuing his tale. Eventually the half-elf wakes up.  Coppers do what coppers do, though Tíu wasn’t the violent sort of interrogator.  ...yeah, ‘suppose that’d be counter-productive with someone that wounded anyway.

So, local matriarch, the copper and the now-prisoner talk - eventually they piece together what really going on.  And this is where things heat up, if you’ll pardon me pun.

See, turns out we’d been drugged by bandits and dragged off - they’d been going through our stuff, to see if we were worth ransoming while they stole the couple of valuables we had.  Simple enough, I’m sure you’ll agree.  The twist, friends, was that these bandits had been disagreeing over if they should take a certain deal.  See, ‘round those parts - half-a-dozen kingdoms away from where we’re sitting - there were some nobles who loved themselves some hunting.  Nah, not the stuff they’d call poaching if we did it.  This bunch preferred humanoids.

Horrible, ain’t it.  Hunting people, hurting people, that’s one thing.  But just for sport?  Well. . .it stoked my anger, let me tell you!  

...yeah, that was first time I ever went back once I’d fled.  First time I ever really lived up to me name.  

Just two of us, it was.  Just the two of us against two ex-bandits and a bunch of blue-blooded drunkards.  We observed the situation from the tree-line, stealthy-like.  We knew we couldn’t win head on, and Tíu was so adamant that I not burn the hunting lodge down, that we decided on an improvised plan.  

...well, I say decided, but Tíu sort of made the decision for me.  Bloody copper.

Basically, he blew his horn.  As the only ex-bandit who wasn’t regretting every life choice went-a-hunting, I thought fast and made a bornfire with me blood’s magic.  While that was goin’ on, we did a little strategising, and Tíu and I went to go release the horses.  Yeah, there were horses - it was a hunting party!

Unfortunately, I wasn’t as stealthy back then as I can be these days.  ...yeah, I know I ain’t always the stealthiest now either.  Anyway, I got spotted.  Things got real dicey real fast after that!

Obviously, I started with me favourite hello - a firebolt launched as quick as a wink.  They didn’t like that, but I didn’t like the cut they dealt me in return.  I called upon my flames to burn this whole rotten lot to nothing - but by then it seemed to be too late.  I’d been dealt a lethal blow.

Here the half-elf stopped to role a sleeve up - showing several old scars, each still discoloured and puckered, unlike the rest of his near-elvishly flawless skin.

Funny thing happened, though.  As I wreathed myself in the fires of freedom, I didn’t burn away.  Oh, I was definitely dying.  But I incinerated nobles, scared away the thug who’d regretted their betrayal (last I hear, they’d settled into a quiet life in some monastery up in Driscol).  The horses were released in the confusion -Tíu had come through, it had seemed.  In the chaos, though, we were both dying.  Tíu had fallen from an attempt to ride a horse - I like to think it was to help me, and not to abandon his erstwhile ally - and found himself beset by a cadre of rich arseholes.  They did well - cutting into them with punches, kicks and icy magic - but were knocked down in time.  My own flames were sputtering by this stage, but I summoned up the nearby insects to infest that bastard. (No, not the copper, Gerard, what’s wrong with you?)  

It wasn’t enough to save the copper - an ally in this moment, despite the natural state of things. At the time, I really did think I’d saved the guy.  Turns out I was wrong, though I never thought to check at the time.  (He did get a burial, courtesy of those folks at Westbridge.  I’m glad for that, at least.  ...we might have been enemies had he lived, but he was a decent sort - and people like that deserve to become part of the air or earth.  That’s just a little rule of mine.)

With what I thought would be my last breath, I lit fires inside the hunting lodge (as it hadn’t caught alight in the cross-fire of battle, despite my best efforts), and let the screams of burning blue-bloods lull me to my eternal sleep...

...’cept I woke up.  Tired, sore, but very much clinging to life.  Fucking painful trip back to civilisation that was - not only was I fainting every few hours, but the minor burns surrounding all my cuts started to get infected after I fell into a boggy ditch!  Still, I found my way back to my then-current employees, and they nursed me back to health.

‘course, not long after I recovered, I burnt their operation to the ground.  Them along with it.  Harsh?  Cruel?  Perhaps.  But as I recovered, I realised how selfish I’d been with flames and freedom given to me by birth.  Freedom gives me joy.  Fire gives me joy.  And I realised, then and there, that I needed to give everyone that freedom.  

Oh, it’d be years before I could put it to words, but that day - with the druggin’, the copper and the blue-blooded bastards - that day was the day I realised I needed to free everyone!

Yep, Tiala, you’re right - free the wealthy from their cash!  Free the prisoners from their chains!  Free the slaves from their masters!  Free the nobility from their bloated lives!

...I doubt Tíu would have approved, had he lived - but hey, what could a single copper do against The Freeborn?!  ...besides, he’s got the freedom of the grave now - it’ll be another century before I get that last freedom, should I be so lucky!

Finishing one last drink, Dyne’s tale wound to a close.  Most of the pub’s regulars had left - off to go bludgeon anyone wandering unlit back-allies, no doubt - but his little band of brigands was still surrounding him.  Some of the newer recruits, like Tiala, still listened attentively - while seasoned veterans like Gerard were dozing off, used to his old tales.  

Truth be told, Dyne did sometimes feel regrets about the path he’d taken.  Not all he’d freed found the freedom to their liking - and some simply used new freedom to imprison others yet again.  Still, he stoked the flame of revolution, of rebellion, of resentment wherever he could - because it was the way to feed the flames within.

Fire satisfied his senses in a way nothing else could - not even the freedom his folks were named for - but sometimes the resulting screams weren’t so sweet to his ears.  Still though, he’d choose this path again in a heartbeat - or perhaps, to be more accurate, he’d chose it again in a spark.

[yankeeclapdoctor]

That ScreenRant article came out and I’ve decided now is as good a time as any to pour my 7-year-old Loki headcanon analysis gasoline onto the discourse fire

Seriously don’t keep reading this if you don’t want to be bombarded with pieces of what has been in my head for the past 7 years i’m not fucking messing around my friends don’t have a choice to be attacked with this shit when i start talking in person but it’s the internet so you do have a choice. but for the record: I don’t condone his attempts at genocide or other violent actions, and I know it’s bad writing, and i am also aware that it’s 2018 not 2013. But I still love him. Thank you good day

SO I went through and wrote all over the Marvel profile for Loki and here are some things I have to say that can actually be backed up by canon evidence (I have my other headcanons that are just mine that can only be expressed in angsty fanfic but this isn’t the place for that):

In Thor (2011), Loki brings the Frost Giants to infiltrate Asgard on Thor’s coronation day. He tells Laufey that it was “to ruin [his] brother’s big day,” but we also know from his argument with Sif and the Warriors Three that he didn’t believe Thor was ready to rule yet (and he was right! he didn’t go about any of what he did correctly at all but he was right that Thor wasn’t ready and if he hadn’t been right there wouldn’t have been a movie). He doesn’t ruin Thor’s coronation because he wants to be king, he ruins it both because he’s THE GOD OF MISCHIEF and because he thought he was doing what was best for Asgard (which comes from him just being an entitled little pompous bitch but we all knew that already). 

After he finds out that he’s a Frost Giant, he loses his fucking mind and becomes desperate for Odin’s approval and to be “worthy,” especially after having felt overshadowed by Thor throughout his life. Finding out that he was a Frost Giant and that Odin took him hoping to “bring about permanent peace through [him]” made him feel even more used and inferior, driving him to (understandably) lose it and try to prove himself “worthy” of being both Odin’s son and an effective person who can be powerful on his own, not just a pawn as Odin first intended for him. 

As he says to Thor, he “never wanted the throne. [He] only ever wanted to be [Thor’s] equal”—and this is true, both before he knows about his adoption and after: before, Loki felt overshadowed because Thor’s physical strength and status as the heir gave him more positive regard (fuck. look at me using my psychology terms), and afterwards he wants to be Thor’s “equal” just in being deemed “worthy” of Odin’s love and in being seen as a powerful independent person. When Thor asks him why he’s trying to commit genocide he answers, “To prove to father that I am a worthy son.” He thinks that the only way to prove to Odin that he is worthy is to prove that he should be a king, because Thor who has been deemed “worthy” by Odin (and by Mjolnir) is the heir, and therefore kings = “worthy” so Loki should become a king so he can be “worthy”!!! He’s fucked up!!! THIS IS NOT TO EXCUSE HIS ATTEMPT TO COMMIT GENOCIDE AGAINST THE FROST GIANTS. THAT WAS NOT OKAY. I am just deeply psychoanalyzing his motives because Tom Hiddleston played him with this amount of emotional depth and I will prove it by analyzing everything. 

Look at his eyes. what the Fuck. He’s so broken and hurt and out of his fucking mind. He doesn’t know what to do because he’s so angry that he’s a Frost Giant and hates that part of himself and wants to destroy it so he kills his fucking biological father and then tries to kill all the Frost Giants, rejecting them in an attempt to endear himself to Odin and the Asgardians while also believing he’ll never be accepted by them, especially Thor after he saw Thor go berserk on the Frost Giants at the beginning of the movie. and hearing Thor say anything contrary to the fucked up stuff he’s convinced himself of makes him lose it even more. 

ANyway moving on. So Thor stops the genocide from happening which is great (would have been nice if he’d succeeded in stopping it in IW too but oh well bad writing), but after Odin says “no, Loki” instead of you know maybe helping his sons up onto solid ground before trying to have a conversation, Loki lets go and falls into the abyss, definitely believing that he’s gonna die. 

The Marvel profile thing says he “arrives at the Sanctuary” and “meets the Other,” but it was definitely more like he fucking crashed there and got captured by Chitauri, brought to the Other who interrogated him about where he came from, brought him to Thanos, who then tortured him more. 

like...im sorry but this is not the face of a guy who was welcomed into Thanos’s creepy rock lair with open arms and martinis. He was fucking tortured. Not be be 2013 on main analyzing every frame to prove this again but I’m going to: he stumbles when he’s walking with Clint and Selvig to leave the big science room, and he has trouble getting into the truck thing because he’s INJURED from TORTURE see:

ass

[Not to mention all the dialogue in this scene that could be things he was told during his torture and brainwashing/manipulation that he’s repeating back as part of his mindfuckery, but I’m not gonna talk about it bc i know it’s also j*ss’s bad writing not knowing how to write Loki or anyone else and im not getting into that discourse right now. but also for my analytical purposes in my headcanon all of Loki’s dialogue in his first scene in Avengers (2012) is what Thanos told him during his torture]

ANYWAY my point is that Loki was not only influenced by the mind stone; thank you Marvel for finally acknowledging that that happened, but 

Loki was also tortured by Thanos and the Other prior to receiving the scepter

the Other threatens him with being tortured if he “fails” and “if the Tesseract is kept from us” and says “you think you know pain,” which could only refer either to him falling from the Bifrost and landing wherever the fuck he lands (whatever the fuck “The Sanctuary” is. Marvel you can’t just give things stupid cryptic names after the fact what the fuck that’s not fair), or to PREVIOUS TORTURE BY THANOS

the torture was physical as you can see from the everything about him in Avengers (2012), but also psychological as you can tell from his interactions with Thor throughout the movie. let’s take a look

ok well that’s sorta accurate to the feelings he had in Thor (2011). No evidence of brainwashing torture there. carry on.

See but that’s not right. Thor didn’t “toss” him, and while the influence of the mind stone could be warping his memory to make him think that, it would make more sense for Thanos to have used it or other torture to warp his memories to make him think that, to ensure that he would have this thought and this reasoning in his head before encountering his brother again [i know it’s really just bad writing shut up]. Thanos and the Other used Loki’s existing feelings of inferiority, thinking that ruling = worthiness, and resentment towards Thor to manipulate his memories, changing some of them with torture before giving him the scepter which then amplified those feelings and cognitive distortions (ha more psych terms) even more so he could carry out the plan to take over Earth. Playing on Loki’s existing resentment towards Thor made him willing to go after Earth, as he also pretty much says in this scene, so this all doesn’t excuse what he does. He isn’t being completely mind controlled. He’s been manipulated and tortured in a way that uses his existing negative feelings and tendency to create chaos as the GOD OF MISCHIEF to create violent action on behalf of a genocidal alien. Thor notices that when he asks this:

He recognizes Loki’s anger and resentment and twisted ambition from their last fight, but also sees from Loki’s descriptions of the tesseract’s power that his brother’s feelings have been manipulated and amplified by someone’s (and something’s) influence. His later interaction with Loki during the attack on New York when he appeals to him to stop almost works, in that moment people always screenshot to show that Loki’s eyes were blue and therefore he’s controlled by the scepter too oooooOOOOoooOOo (no guys Tom Hiddleston’s eyes are blue and Loki wasn’t controlled by the scepter in the same way as Clint and Selvig). Thor gets Loki to look at the violence around them and asks “do you think this madness will end with your rule?” and this gets through to Loki because he knows he’s not good at establishing order—he creates chaos because he’s THE GOD OF MISCHIEF. His ability to create chaos has been used by Thanos in a ploy to get the Tesseract, the idea that Loki would rule Earth used as vengeful motivation stemming from Loki’s pre-existing feelings of animosity and his earlier need to prove himself “worthy” that have been amplified by both his torture and the influence of the scepter. 

IN CONCLUSION (for now): Loki can create chaos, not control or rule it (see: Thor 2011), but his breakdown in Thor (2011) made him desperate to prove that he can rule, that he can fix problems he creates: he ruins Thor’s coronation and it goes too far, getting Thor banished and nearly starting a war with Jotunheim. He tries to fix it in an attempt to prove himself “worthy” to Odin, but can’t fix it. Thanos uses this need he has to prove himself to make him wreak havoc on Earth to get the Tesseract, but the Avengers defeat him, and Thanos not stepping in to get the Tesseract then 

shows that none of his plan was actually about Earth beyond trying to get the Tesseract and he used Loki’s resentment towards Thor to get to Earth for it

Marvel is bad at setting up long-term villains like Thanos and they should have done Secret Invasion instead because after Avengers (2012) they just fucking forget about him. because they should have introduced the other infinity stones earlier on so that him showing up made more sense. but whatever

So in actual concise response to Marvel updating the thing to say that Loki was influenced by the scepter/mind stone in Avengers (2012): yes thank you for finally fucking saying it and addressing one aspect of your inconsistent writing. We been knew. Loki was influenced by the scepter after being tortured and psychologically manipulated by Thanos and the Other between his fall from the Bifrost and the start of Avengers (2012). This does not mean he was not responsible for his destructive and murderous actions on Earth—that was fucked up—and he still very much did try to commit genocide in Thor (2011). I am not excusing that. However, he is a fictional character and I love him.

[misssophiachase]

For Klaroween Bingo - Witch - A Practical Magic/Klaroline fusion with new twists. Also, thanks to @livingdeadblondequeen  @littlebirdofthenorth and @klarolinesbuttons for some mythology lessons along the way.

Sisters Caroline and Katherine Pierce have always been considered ‘different’ but when FBI Agent Klaus Mikaelson comes to town in order to solve a mysterious death in Washington DC things get complicated (opening quotes in italics from the film and title from the soundtrack).

If You Ever Did Believe

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah, he’s...nice...in a very penal code sort of way, yeah.”

Caroline felt herself blush. The question was pretty much typical of her older sister, even in a budding crisis, but it wasn’t it that had gotten under her skin. 

It was him. 

And, yes, he was cute. Scratch that he was gorgeous, and not just in a penal code kind of way. 

An irresistible mixture of dimples, curls and crimson lips housed in a navy henley and dark jeans. But his physical appearance wasn’t the only thing getting under her skin, she could sense something wasn’t right but couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Time seemed to stop, for whatever reason, and she’d almost forgotten he was an FBI Agent until he flashed his badge in her direction and asked to speak with Katherine about the suspicious death of a Russian National.

Suddenly he wasn’t quite so attractive and she was going to kill Katherine for whatever mess she’d embroiled her in this time. She’d turned up on her doorstep a few nights ago and suddenly things were falling into place. Especially given she vowed never to return to San Juan because it was apparently too ‘small town’ for her liking.

They were polar opposites. Katherine was impulsive and unapologetic about her supernatural status and with that came an abundance of reckless behaviour. She’d been travelling for years but they always kept in touch through letters. The stories she told were always wild and she wouldn’t have believed them if she wasn’t Katherine Pierce.    

Caroline, on the other hand, always tried to keep her identity on the down low, even with the rumours swirling in town, there was only so many insults she could take about her supernatural status.  All she really craved in life was some semblance of normalcy. But trouble tended to follow her, especially when Katherine made an impromptu visit.

“Sounds like someone has a little crush,” Katherine teased, now limbering into cat-cow pose.

“Seriously, Kat,” she huffed. “Stop dodging my questions.”

“You should really try yoga, Care, it’s a good way to relax and unwind and we all know you could use some of that.”

“You’re the only person I know who doesn’t care that a federal agent is in our backyard brandishing a firearm as we speak.”

“Are you sure it was his gun and nothing else, Care?” She blushed again, damn it. “Hey, I’ve got an idea, how about you seduce the guy and he’ll forget all about his line of questioning? It would be a win-win. I mean you haven’t gotten any in a while so really I’d be helping you.” 

“Wow,’ Caroline growled. “You have not changed. And, by the way, this obsession with my sex life is unhealthy.” Maybe it was true, but given the fact she couldn’t fall in love due to the centuries-old family, death curse, there wasn’t any point.

“I’m only looking out for you...”

“What exactly have you done, Kat?” She interrupted, ignoring her comment. Caroline knew exactly what was going to follow. Katherine could separate her feelings from sex but it was something Caroline could never do which is why she stayed celibate for the most part.

“Nothing,” Caroline gave her a weary look. “Well, nothing much.”

“This murdered Russian is an attaché at the Embassy in Washington DC, it’s kind of a big deal.”

“Fine,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly. “I knew him, we spent some time together...well you know...”

“Those particular details are not necessary right now,” Caroline shot back. 

“But he wasn’t a gentleman, far from it,” she shuddered, lowering her sweater to reveal numerous bruises on her skin. “I was only trying to defend myself and then suddenly he was on the floor and I was fleeing the hotel.” 

Suddenly Caroline felt bad for her sister and would have been more sympathetic but the fact Klaus Mikaelson was still in their yard was weighing on her mind. 

“Was he dead?”

“I didn’t stick around to check, Detective,” she growled. “Anyway, all I did was put some belladonna in his whiskey, it’s a sedative.”

“Only in small doses,” she murmured, knowing its full potential if used in excess. “We need to get downstairs, he’ll suspect something is up if not.”

 xxxxxxx

Patience wasn’t a trait that Klaus Mikaelson possessed. But when he arrived in San Juan, it seemed to become a little easier to wait, to observe, to take everything in.  

To take her in.

He knew what she was, the town was rife with rumours after all, but he wasn’t expecting to feel so bewitched so soon.

Blonde waves, creamy skin and expressive, blue eyes that matched the colour of the nearby ocean. He’d faltered, albeit momentarily, and then regained his composure and asked for her sister. He noticed her once sunny expression darken and suddenly he wanted to take it all back just to see her smile again.

Standing in the garden after she’d gone to fetch her sister, Klaus tried to ignore just how good her toned backside and hips looked swinging from side to side in those dark, denim jeans.

She seemed familiar, almost like they’d met before but that would be impossible, right? That’s what he told himself anyway.

Katherine Pierce was everything he imagined. Poised, charming and flirtatious, she obviously had a way with men, Aleksey Romanoff included. She’d rattled off a story about their turbulent relationship, his violent tendencies and not seeing him for weeks. She even mentioned a weakness for men in suits, he all but stopped in recommending his older brother Elijah.

Klaus could tell she was lying. But he hadn’t pushed, mainly because her protective sister seemed to be sending him death stares from the kitchen sink. Was it wrong to feel so turned on? He left but with the promise of further questioning.

His restlessness grew at the nearby bed and breakfast he was staying at and Klaus found himself gravitating towards ‘Nourish’ the store owned by one Caroline Pierce. Klaus told himself it was for intelligence, nothing else.

“I didn’t take you for an organic moisturizer kind of guy?” She asked as he perused the shelves. If he thought she looked stunning yesterday, she looked beautiful in a flowing, white dress. And it didn’t help her floral perfume was messing with his senses.

“I moisturize,” he shot back, defensively. What he wasn’t expecting was for her to cup his chin and caress his stubble, her blue eyes regarding him seriously.

“Daily?” He was a bit taken aback by her intimate gesture to respond at first but eventually found his voice.

“When I have time,” he murmured.

“The life of a high flying FBI agent is never done I assume?” She guessed, finally letting go but all Klaus wanted was for her to keep touching him and never stop. His arousal was confirming that very fact.

“Something like that,” he rasped, knowing the real reason he couldn’t keep up his daily routine. “So, what do you recommend?”

“If this is your way of interrogating me then…”

“I’m on some rare downtime,” he said, even if it was a lie. Caroline Pierce was doing something to him and Klaus wasn’t quite sure he wanted it to end anytime soon. 

“Peppermint.”

“Excuse me?” She gestured behind him.

“Your skin is on the dry side so I’d suggest the peppermint facial cream.”

“Dry?” He suddenly felt self conscious. No one had ever done that, until right now. He wanted to hate her for voicing a physical weakness but for some reason Klaus just wanted to prove her wrong and hastily picked up the bottle to pay for it.

“It’s nothing to be worried about,” she teased, packing his purchase. “I’m sure this will clear things up straight away.” But would his feelings follow suit? He wasn’t so sure. 

“Promise?” He grinned.

“Or your money back.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Ms Pierce,” he joked, making his way from the store, every fiber of his being willing him to stay but he knew that wasn’t wise given his mission.

“He came into the store, like obviously he’s never heard of boundaries, Bon,” Caroline hissed, taking another tequila shot. She forgot how many that was but didn’t really care as she sucked on the lime wedge.

“And why exactly are you so bothered?” She asked, wiping down the bar as she peered at her best friend curiously.

“Well, obviously all the Kat drama,” she rolled her eyes.

“Maybe but you do realise I can see through you given we’ve been best friends since you put a spell on Jimmy Hall in the playground? I’ll never forget how he just happened to fall off those monkey bars and break his arm after teasing us all relentlessly.” 

“Says the girl who could have cast her own spell,” she joked, albeit quietly. Bonnie Bennett had arrived in San Juan at the age of four and she, Katherine and Caroline had become fast friends, mainly because they were all witches. And for that reason outcasts at their school.  

“I can also sense a mystical connection a mile away,” Bonnie offered. “He’s the guy, isn’t he? No one could get you this riled up.” 

Caroline was hoping she wouldn’t ask but Bonnie had a sixth sense that rivalled even the most powerful witches. She couldn’t explain the connection she felt towards him but that explanation seemed to make sense. “I don’t know, well not exactly, I mean I not sure…”

“He is!” She exclaimed, piercing the general bar din as she said it and earning curious glances in their direction.

“I did that spell so I would never fall in love,” she mumbled. “No one is that unique or perfect.”

“Who’s perfect?” His low growl was causing foreign sensations to take over her body. How did this man make a simple Henley look so damn delectable? And was he stalking her?

“Well, not you,” she shot back at the intrusion and took the opportunity to down another shot for courage.

“Nobody’s perfect, love,” he agreed. “I’ll have what she’s having.” Bonnie was momentarily speechless before pouring his shot.

“Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, including Washington,” Caroline coughed, trying to ignore the burning sensation in her throat from the last shot. “I would have thought as an FBI agent you’d be familiar with the law.” 

“I’m not stalking you,” he promised in that crisp accent that could lull her into a false sense of security. “It’s a small town. It’s kind of difficult to not run into anyone as I’m sure you’d know about.”

“Why are you still here then?” She bristled. “My sister said she hadn’t seen him in weeks.”

“And given yours and her body language that doesn’t seem true. The townsfolk seem to think you’re hiding things and I can’t say I disagree.”

“I never took you for the hanging committee,” she shot back, placing her lime wedge on the bar. “But it’s not like we’re not used to it.”

“I believe in innocent ‘till proven guilty,” he smiled, startling her by rubbing her lips softly. “Salt.” He offered by way of explanation, his gaze never leaving hers. She was rendered speechless, even Bonnie’s knowing look wasn’t enough to break her from the trance he’d created.

Beautiful bastard.

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, buddy,” she slurred, the effects of the tequila suddenly making her sight blur and the room start to spin.

“I know that,” he murmured, his hand finding its way around her waist to keep her upright. “I think we’ll take the cheque.” Caroline could barely register what was happening until she woke hours later disoriented in her bedroom fully clothed and extremely dehydrated. 

Then snippets of her memory came flashing back. 

Klaus Mikaelson guiding her towards the house, his arm supportively around her waist. Klaus Mikaelson removing her shoes, placing the blanket over her and putting her to bed. Klaus Mikaelson rubbing her forehead and placing a chaste kiss on her temple and murmuring, albeit quietly.

“I dreamed of you too, love.”

She sat up with a start, trying to ignore the pain ripping through her head and work out whether it was really a dream. What did she say to him to make him say that?

xxxxxx

He didn’t mean to reveal that fact, but given she was practically sleeping Klaus thought it was safe. He ran his hands through his curls distractedly, this mission was supposed to be easy. It was anything but given the feelings she’d conjured inside him and not just because she was a witch.

When he placed a kiss on her temple, it took all his willpower not to stay the night and pull her into his embrace under the covers. What was happening to him? Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do emotions, it was always easier that way.

He’d been lying to her but usually it didn’t matter who he deceived, until now. He’d barely awoken before he saw the door fly open and she was standing at the foot of his bed, blue eyes blazing. 

“Knocking wouldn’t go astray,” he smirked, stretching his arms. “Unless you purposely wanted to see me naked, Pierce?”

“You wish,” she hissed, but he couldn’t miss the blush spreading across her cheeks as she regarded his naked form.  “What do you want from me?”

“I told you…”

“Who are you, really?” He was taken aback by just how direct she was being and for some reason he felt like he couldn’t lie given her penetrating stare. 

“How about if I share with you, you share with me too?” He suggested, sitting up and allowing the sheet to pool around his waist revealing his bare chest.

“I’ll keep that under advisement,” she shot back, but he couldn’t miss the way her eyes were devouring his toned chest.  “You first.”

“I’m not really an FBI agent...”

“Wow, you don’t say?”

“I’m a werewolf,” he admitted gingerly, noting her surprised expression and he was sure she was mentally kicking herself for not making the supernatural connection. He did all he could to mask his identity, it wasn’t her fault.  

“He can howl at the moon,” she groaned loudly, flopping onto the nearest chair. Klaus wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this. “I really should have known.”

“Aleksey Romanoff is the alpha of a rival Russian pack. He killed two of my siblings Finn and Freya. He’s dangerous, like with your sister. I think he’s still alive, that’s why I came here.”

“So, you used me for revenge? Pretended you were somebody else because this was all a ruse.” 

“I never intended on involving you or your sister,” he confessed. “If anything I felt drawn to you and being here has only amplified that fact.”

“Well, how about I leave and then everything between us will be severed for good,” she whimpered. He couldn’t miss the hurt in those blue eyes, before she fled. 

Suddenly revenge didn’t matter at all.

Caroline Forbes had managed to capture every brief emotion he’d felt and it wasn’t many given his thousand year existence.  

He needed to get her back. Now. 

On FF Here

[the-apocryphal-one]

DR x Pokemon: Trigger Happy Havoc

no one asked for this Apo shut up I DID

But yeah, all this Pokemon talk has reminded me of a (sadly dead) crossover fic with DR and Pokemon that made me want to try my hand at the idea. I don’t really have any material for making a full-blown fic, but I still thought it’d be fun to toss my two cents in on what teams everyone would have. I didn’t want to use legendaries or repeat ‘mons if possible--I made exceptions for shared talents or backstory reasons.

So here’s the first game. I plan to do the second, V3, and even the anime too in separate posts. Feel free to “NO, THAT’S WRONG!” or “I AGREE WITH THAT!” me.

Lycanroc is because all those memes in DR3’s day have made it impossible for me to dissociate them. Unfezant has Super Luck, as befitting of his talent. Pikachu is the most known Pokémon of the franchise and the starter of the first protagonist, Red. The rest are all Normal, like him; not as common as Hajime’s (when I get to him), but nothing super standout. …Though Sawsbuck is also a small nod at his surname meaning ‘sapling’.

Empoleon, Serperior, and Kingdra all very regal and reference his noble heritage. Nidoking and Tyrantum are still kings, but not as noble (in fact, Tyrantum is pretty bratty). Persian is commonly associated with positions of power and money.

He’s got male feminine-looking Pokemon in Meganium, Milotic, and M-Gardevoir. As the creator of AIs, he naturally gets Porygon-Z, and Rotom can possess appliances, which seems like it could help his programming. Dedenne is just a cute Electric-type I think he’d like.

A lot of tough, dark, gang-type Pokemon for him. M-Pinsir exists as his counterpart to Kiyotaka.

Darmanitan is his FIERY SPIRIT! Bronzong, Alolan Golem, and Gigalith match his rigid will, with Alolan Golem even having eyebrows to match. For some reason, Noctowl seems like it’d match him as a moral center. M-Heracross exists as his counterpart to Mondo.

A bunch of weak, almost phony, Psychic-types to go with a weak fortune teller. Slowbro especially is a nod at his stupidity. But hey, at least he can Mega evolve it and evolved his Woobat, so that’s something? (I did at least want to give him a nod for risking his life for his friends, Makoto in DR3 and Kanon in UDH)

Electivire is because of several episodes revolving around that line and baseball. Pyroar matches his fiery hair. The rest of his team refers to his desire to be a rock star; Weezing is a reference to Roxie, who was a Poison-type gym leader and in a band. Flareon and Jolteon can help with lights and pyrotechnics. Exploud is obvious.

Smeargle for art, female Jellicent because her shape and color are similar to Princess Piggles, Watchog is a chipmunk and somewhat resembles his face. Munchlax is unevolved because while Hifumi is fat, he’s not lazy like a Snorlax. Pyukumuku stays in one spot, and he’s an otaku who stays indoors. Golurk is Robo Justice.

Arcanine is like the quintessential detective Pokemon. Espeon because of the color scheme and just really looks like it would fit her. Vileplume is another purple ‘mon and a nod to some of her favorite gifts being flowers. Alola Ninetails because Kyoko has travelled abroad and because I imagine she might want an Ice-type around if her scars started aching. Slowking matches human intelligence and keeps a level head, which would make them useful partners. M-Lucario senses people’s feelings, very useful for an interrogation.

Her team is entirely made up of singers and dancers (thank goodness there are a lot of them, because I also needed some for Kaede, Ibuki, and Hiyoko). They assist her in her idol performances, and almost all are considered ‘beautiful’ or ‘pure’—an image she, as an idol, is forced to live up to. Spinda gets away because it’s endearingly cute.

Gothitelle is freakin’ perfect, it looks almost exactly like her. Alola Persian is her cat. The rest all fit her gothic aesthetic.

The first half of the team is Toko’s, the second half is Genocider’s (which is also why there’re two Megas). Dustox is the closest I can find for her stink bug. She has Stunfisk because it’s ugly and it can light up dark places for her. Toko’s last ‘mon is a creepy Ghost-type because, well, she’s a stalker. All Genocider’s Pokemon are close-range and can learn various slashing moves, with M-Scizor standing out for scissors.

She’s a martial artist, her team is made of martial artists. Also, her Machamp and Conkeldurr are female.

Happy, swimming ‘mons for a happy, swimming girl!

I grabbed ‘mons that seemed like they’d be tough, warzone-survivor types. Chesnaught can flip a tank. Clawizter can pierce tanks and attacks from the water. Staraptor dive-bombs. Mimikyu references how she borrows her sister’s identity. Dusk Lycanroc is for Fenrir. M-Gallade represents her ridiculous loyalty to her sister.

Credit to @shinjiroaragaki for her sprite!

I think Junko would get really bored of her team and keep rotating, but these are her ‘favorites’, for a certain definition of the word. Bewear is obvious. Shiinotic leads people down the wrong path. Hydreigon is just about the most violent, cruel dragon-type in existence. Salazzle is an abusive seductress. Malamar can force people to obey it, aka brainwashing anime. M-Mawile deceives opponents by looking cute, then killing them, which is pretty much perfect.

All her Pokemon, save M-Mawile, are Shadow Pokémon, to borrow lore from the Orre region. M-Mawile can’t be a Shadow since that sounds counterproductive to how Mega Evolution works, but I imagine Junko’s ‘bond’ with it is so twisted and abusive that M-Mawile is really screwed up anyway.

[thatpleasantnightmare]

Let’s talk about.... Riverdale.

It’s been a while since I wrote or actually made an article on my blog but Two weeks ago, I discovered Riverdale. And good god I can’t get enough of it. As I was fangirling ( and snapping my reactions to my best friend ) through episode 6 today, I thought : “ Why not make a list of the people I suspect and why ? “ So here you go Riverdale’s fans, here’s my contribution.

RIVERDALE CHARACTERS AND WHAT WE KNOW/ DON’T KNOW ABOUT THEM / DO I SUSPECT THEM OR NOT

  #SPOILER ALERT

ARCHIE ANDREWS

( that jawline tho ) During the summer, Archie was working for his dad (#abs) and frickfracking with Mrs Grundy (#cougar). He obviously knew Jason bc football team and he actually has an aliby. He was with Mrs Grundy when the gunshot was fired. BUT we do know ;that the gunshot was fired by Dilton Doyley. And we don’t know what happened after that but I think they just headed home and he concentrated on his music to forget about the gunshot and knowing a fellow student was dead.

Do I suspect him : YES / NO / MAYBE

VERONICA LODGE 

I’ll be brief about Veronica. During the summer, she was probably still in New York, and never put a step in Riverdale before the start of the story 

Do I suspect her: YES / NO / MAYBE

BETTY COOPER

Damn gurl. Here’s the thing about Betty. Every episode makes me question her. One episode I’m like “ of course she didn’t “ and one episode after I’m like “ yeeah, maybe she did. “  Betty Cooper is the image of the perfect daughter; good grades, casual clothes, not too popular. On the first episode, her mom gave her some medecine ( i don’t remember the name gosh ) and I looked up on the internet and it’s for helping focus and apparently well used in the USA by students. It also says that it can causes paranoia. Well, well, well. Official version is that Betty was doing an internship during the summer. But good god, I thought she was innocent until I saw the bathtub scene. Remember ? “ Say you’re sorry for what you did to me, Jason “. In the comics we know there was some feud between the sisters because of Jason so why not ? What if she couldn’t accept her sister being happy with him? Anyway, after episode 6 I have my doubts; she apparently didn’t knew about her sister’s condition and I’m starting to think she just snapped at Chuck because she was just so angry ( my little bean, too precious for this world. ) 

Do I suspect her : YES / NO / MAYBE

JUGHEAD JONES III

I just looooooove his character so much (Plus, Cole Sprouse, youknowwhatImean ) We know that this precious being was supposed to go on a road trip with Archie on the 4th of July, but Archie prefered his cougar, leaving the precious being alone. No aliby for him then. And I mean, what a plot twist would it be, you know, writing a book about the investigation of the murder you commited? Anyway, I don’t really think he is connected to the murder, I mean he barely knew Jason and let’s be honest, other things to think than killing a guy.

Do I suspect him : YES / NO / MAYBE

CHERYL BLOSSOM 

(#queenslayin ) At first, I thought she was only going to be a basic bitch character that we love to hate but she is so much more than that. She really did love her brother, and of course it makes her a suspect. Her family is clearly insane and her brother was a rock. She helped him go away BUT did she? Maybe she knew Polly was pregnant and that he was going to run away with her and she couldn’t stand it ? 

Do I suspect her : YES  / NO / MAYBE

POLLY COOPER 

Introduced to us in Episode 6, Polly was an interrogation point. We now know she was dating Jason, that she is pregnant with his child and that they were supposed to run away together, until Alice “mom of the year” Cooper decidet to incarcerate her. The theory that she was “sick” is wronged by Bughead finding the car she told them about. We know both Coopers and Lodges didn’t approve on the relationship but for now, that’s all we know but meh, I don’t think she’s guilty, I mean she really did love him i think.

Do I suspect her : YES / NO / MAYBE

THE COOPERS 

I’mma start with Mamma Bitch. I’m torn with this woman bc she is a complete ASS with Polly but actually trying to protect Betty. Still a bitch thought. She clearly hated Jason with all her guts, actually is “happy” that he is dead and she little chuckle she did when Betty accused her dad “ You think he would have the guts to do it ? “ 

Continuing with Pappa Bitch. We KNOW he stole the sheriff’s evidences and files. And I did put this picture for a reason. “ He’s missing “ you know like he knew that Jason was not dead.  MY BIG THEORY for the Coopers : They never approved Jason and Polly relationship. When they found out about Polly’s pregnancy, they did their best to seperate them and when they found out about their plan to runaway together, they took care of Polly with the medical centre thing and I assume Alice told Hal to take care of things but maybe he didn’t have the guts ( so I’m assuming he was locked somewhere which will explain the frozen body and the marks on the wrists ? ) so Alice DID it ? 

Do I suspect them : HELL YES / NO / MAYBE 

THE BLOSSOMS 

Thoses two motherfuckers. You know that they’re evil. Penelope Blossom is a bitch to everyone and even Daddy Blossom enjoys himself taking Veronica down. They are pure evil. I’m pretty sure they both mentally and physically abuse Jason AND Cheryl. Mentally is proven , physically I mean, do you remember this magnificent BITCH SLAP ??!

I DO . AND I LOVED IT.  Back to the Blossoms , my theory is pratically the same as the Coopers one, they didn’t approve Polly and Jason relationship and as they are so violent and crazy, they hunt it down, locked him away and killed him when he tried to escape ? Idk but even if they didn’t kill him they’re still guilty as shit for being such bad parents.

Do I suspect them : HELL YES / NO / MAYBE

AND I WOULD LIKE TO FINISH WITH MY FAVORITE THEORY, BROUGHT UP BY @pryderi ( see HERE )

ETHEL MUGGS 

Little character in the show you may say, but so many things could link to her. Let’s start with the beggining. First, there’s the football team book, with Ethel’s name show not once, not twice but FOUR TIMES. The first time, her name is linked to a guy named Thomas and after that, 3 times to Reggie. 

So, WHAT IF Reggie and Ethel actually dated for a while ? We can see at the end that Reggie probably “Dumped” her. But then again Ethel never mentioned Reggie but always about Chuck.  Then comes the Bathtub scene at Ethel’s. Little bean is hiding and seems to enjoy the show. What I DID NOTICE on this scene is the hottub which was turning hot thanks to Betty BUT which could also be turn to cold water, REALLY cold ( Jason’s frozen body, anyone ? ) Also, Chuck was handcuffed to the bathtub ( Jason’s marks on his wrists?).  Chuck got kicked out of the team , Jason’s dead, guess who’s now captain of the football team ? REGGIE I first thought she was the one stealing Sheriff Keller’s room but then I was proved wrong, daddy bitch did it BUT she didn’t seemed to be at the school show so damn, who could have put the car on fire ?  MY THEORY IS : Ethel is crazy in love with Reggie and wanted to get rid of Jason so that Reggie could be the king of Riverdale. I know this sounds crazy but her house or at least the bathtub is the only place I can see Jason’s body.

Do I suspect her : HELL YES / NO / MAYBE

Then again , there’s a lot of other characters but I couldn’t find something to write about them so maybe I’ll make updates after every episodes to keep my suspects list updated! Let me know what you think, who do you think killed Jason and why ?