#guess he's no longer a rabid idiot then?

[penelope-regulus]

See this is how we can tell that Penelope's already developed a crush on Callisto, despite it being revealed much later in the story:

Before:

After:

[amoscontorta]

Hi, I write fanfiction about Love and Deepspace. Currently Sylus-specific, although I love and appreciate most of the LIs. Full summaries and tags are in each link.

Alike and cornered beast, Sylus's POV | ao3

I was desperate for Sylus's point of view during the first time that MC meets him in the Alike and Cornered Beast chapters of Long-Awaited Revelry. I wanted to know why he touches MC so reverently but also quite brutally, so I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities and this is the result.

Roleplay, undercurrents, and rising curtain, Sylus's POV | ao3

It really bothers me in the game that the clearly traumatic experiences MC undergoes in the canon storyline don't seem to have any consequences for MC's character development. Yes, yes, this is a self-insert gacha mobile game, blah blah. MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's trauma.

No way out, revised | ao3

I thought that MC was too mean to Sylus in his 4 star No Way Out card, and I didn't like it, so I fixed it. I mean, I rewrote how it went like a proper rabid fan. Sylus shows up injured near MC's place, MC tends to his injuries, and he takes advantage of the situation like a vampire and secures himself an open invitation into MC's home whenever he 'needs' it.

Datura tea, or how all you want is to get some sleep | ao3

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born (let's go to the club alone, drink enough to finally get drowsy and then go home and finaaaaally sleep it off). Zayne treats some of your injuries, Mephisto does Sylus's stalker bidding, and guess who appears at the club right before you're about to probably violate the Hunter's Association code of conduct on an idiot who has a hard time taking no for an answer? Spoiler alert: he can't sing but he can dance, even if he chooses to dance to the music he'd rather be hearing than the music actually being played. Full of clichés but hopefully with refreshing twists.

Sylus gets a headache | ao3

Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Wine time with Sylus | ao3

Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

[the-iceni-bitch]

I’m the One to Blame

Pairing: Paul Diskant x DA fem!Reader, mentions of Andy Barber x DA fem!Reader (part 2 of Queen Bitch series)

Words: ~2.2k

Summary: Fucking you only made him hate you more.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, hate sex, rough sex, slight choking, cream pie, degradation, semi-public sex), cheating, everyone is an asshole except poor Andy, heavy misogyny, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: I’m just a bad person I guess? I’m just gonna give a blanket apology for my infidelity kink, this kinda got away from me and it’s just gonna get worse.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

As soon as you heard the not guilty verdict you should’ve known what was coming. The growls and rumbling coming from the crowd of cops seated behind you was your cue to get out of there, not wanting to wait around for the inevitable blame game where those dumbasses decided that the scumbag got off because you were a meddling bitch and not because none actually wanted to put in the work to make a case.

It had been almost two months of this shit. You hadn’t even wanted to press this case; the evidence was circumstantial and you were 75 percent sure Ludlow had intimidated at least two of the defense witnesses out of testifying. But then the assholes had gone over your head and your boss basically told you to try the case they gave you and not listening when you told him the jury wasn’t going to swallow it.

Of course they didn’t swallow it. And of course it was your fault. God forbid those lazy bastards do their fucking jobs. You could feel all their ire focusing on you as you started to move towards the door, your eyes meeting Diskant’s as he glared at you while Ludlow ranted at him. Sometimes you wondered if he was as big of a piece of shit as his partner, or if he was just a fucking idiot.

Paul felt his blood starting to boil as he watched you storm out of the courtroom, his jaw clenched so tight he was worried he might snap something. The way your gaze just slid over him like he was nothing made him even angrier, and the way your hips swayed in that tight little dress just served to remind him how goddamn frustrated he was. He couldn’t believe Andy actually let you go to court dressed like that.

He hated that every time he saw you all he could think about was that night at the Bell. He still couldn’t believe his fiancée had bought that the marks you left on him were from a struggle with a perp. Thoughts of how warm and wet you were around him had started bleeding into his mind at inopportune times, and the memory only made him angrier.

Ludlow was still ranting about you when Paul rose from the bench and followed after you, the last thing he heard being his partner talk about how he should give that cunt a piece of his mind. He spotted you heading towards the bathroom and strode after you, growling under his breath about how you kept fucking up his life.

You jumped a little when the bathroom door slammed open, rolling your eyes when you saw Diskant fuming at you through the mirror.

“You draw the short straw, Diskant?” You could see his teeth grinding and it made you smirk. “Go on, lay it on me.”

“You threw it, didn’t you?” He ran his hand over his face as he watched you bend over the sink, telling himself to keep his eyes off your ass as you washed your hands. “You got all pissy your boss made you do your job, and you tanked the case just to be a cunt?”

“Fuck you, Diskant.” You felt your hackles go up when he moved closer. “I do my fucking job. I’m sick of taking all the shit for when you assholes fuck up these cases, grow up.”

“I’m so sick of your fucking mouth.” He stepped forward and pressed his chest to your back, bracing his hands on either side of your body as he growled into your hair. “Every time you open it I just want to shove something in there to shut you the fuck up.”

“No, get off.” You gasped when when he ran a hand up your arm until he could curl it around your throat, tilting your head back so he could scrape his teeth over your jaw. “Paul, we’re not doing this again.”

“You telling me you don’t want it?” He snarled against your neck as he pushed you even closer to the sink, the marble edge cutting into your hips painfully while he other hand trailed down your hip to drag up your skirt.

You wanted it so bad it was making you sick. Every day you were filled with self loathing from the moment Andy kissed you awake until you sank into your bed in a tangle of limbs after he made soft, reverent love to you. But he never fucked you like Paul had the night of your stupid mistake, and when your core still ached as you laid awake against Andy’s chest while he slept deeply, all you could think about was Paul’s thick cock splitting you apart until you almost screamed. And you hated him for it.

“Nothing to say, princess?” Your lip curled at him in a low growl when he sneered at you through the mirror, hissing when he finally wrenched your skirt up around your waist and teased his fingers under the edge of your lace panties. “Tell you what, if you’re not already soaked like a fucking whore, I’ll stop.”

“Ow, bastard!” You tried to turn around and slap him when he literally ripped your panties off you, the breaking elastic snapping against your skin with a sting, but then he was dipping two fingers into your center and stroking your walls slowly so all you could do was whine.

“Knew it.” You heard the clink of his belt under his low chuckle, arching your back when you felt his freed cock slap against the curve of your ass and spreading your legs as slick leaked from around his fingers and coated the inside of your thighs. “Just love to play the stuck up bitch, but this pussy fucking weeps for me. Sick of your fucking teasing, you goddamn slut.”

“Shut up and just fuck me.” You braced your hand against the mirror and moaned when he finally slid inside you, screwing your eyes closed and swallowing thickly when he started slamming his hips into you.

“Fucking bitch.” He slapped your ass hard when you turned and snarled at him, groaning when you clenched tight around him in response and digging his fingers into your hip as he spread your cheeks apart to watch his shiny cock plunge into you.

He was rabid, barely any rhythm to his thrusts as he grunted with each push of his hips. The slap of his hips against your ass and the lewd, wet sloshes of your pussy sucking him back in filled the empty bathroom with your grunts and moans. One of his hands snaked up to yank the front of your dress open and pull out your tits, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you were mewling for him.

You slammed your palm against the mirror when he curled over you and started biting at your neck, not even able to care that he was leaving marks all over you since you were so lost in your pleasure. The hand that was digging into your hip slid between your legs and you had to bite your cheek to keep from screaming, rolling your ass to meet his vicious thrusts while he started circling your clit harshly with the tips of his fingers.

“That’s right, come all over my cock like the fucking whore you are.” His breath was hot on your neck as he kept fucking you like an animal, and you avoided looking in the mirror as if not seeing his face would mean this wasn’t happening. “God, you’re so fucking tight. He ever make you come like this?”

“Shut up.” Your body vibrated around him when he bent his knees and slammed his cock over your g-spot, your legs almost giving out as pleasure roared through your veins and you fought the urge to scream at him. The last thing you wanted was for him to bring up Andy right now.

“He doesn’t, does he? Because he doesn’t treat you like the filthy fucking bitch you are.” He pulled you upright so he could sneer at you in the mirror, your wild eyes meeting his and widening as you took in your completely wrecked state, your makeup smeared and bruises all over your neck while you arched your bare breast into his hand. “But I know, and if I have to fuck you like a dirty slut to get you to quit being a fucking cunt, I’m gonna do it.”

“God, fuck you, Diskant.” You reached back and dug your nails into his neck, grinning wickedly when he hissed at you raising sharp red welts in his skin. “So fucking worried about me, when you’re the one who’s trailing after me like a kicked dog. That sweet little fiancée not keeping you satisfied?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He shoved three fingers in your mouth when you laughed at him, groaning into your hair when he felt you flutter around him again.

Drool started leaking down your chin as Paul pressed your tongue down and slid his fingers towards the back of your mouth, making you gag. You could feel his rhythm starting to grow frantic, the force of his thrusts crashing your hips into the edge of the sink until you were sure you were going to have bruises. He gripped your knee with his free hand and pushed it up until it was resting against the cool marble of the sink, opening you up so he could hit you even deeper and forcing you to brace both hands against the mirror to maintain your balance.

A thin whine escaped around his fingers when he ground into you at the perfect angle, your toes curling in your pumps as you spasmed violently and your release gushed out around him and soaked his thighs. Paul’s hips finally stopped moving when he shot his thick cum inside you, shoving himself as deep as possible as his cock twitched in his release and he buried his face in your neck to muffle his roar.

He surprised you by grabbing your hair at the roots and turning your head so he could smash his lips against yours, tangling his tongue with yours until you couldn’t breathe then growling when you shoved him off you.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You hissed when he pulled your skirt down over your hips unceremoniously, turning to snarl at him as you shoved your tits back into your bra and started to do your dress back up. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Jesus Christ, fuck off.” He tucked himself back into his slacks and redid his fly as he watched you try to straighten yourself out, a massive undertaking with how fucked out you looked. “Next time I’m gonna fuck that bitch mouth so I don’t have to listen to that fucking voice.”

“There’s no next time.” You turned back around and grabbed some paper towels to clean the mess you two had made between your thighs. “There shouldn’t have been a this time, fuck.” You splashed some water on your face and wiped off your smeared makeup before grabbing a scarf and winding it around your neck to cover the marks he’d left on you. “I’m not doing this again.”

“You’re a fucking liar.” He wrapped his hand around your arm and pulled you into his chest, ignoring your growl as he scraped his teeth over the curve of your cheek. “You want this, you fucking need it. Otherwise you would’ve locked the door when you saw me coming.”

Your full armed slap caught him off guard, sending him staggering across the floor as you gave a satisfied sneer. He stared daggers at you when you strode past him to collect your purse, grumbling wordlessly as you prowled towards the door without sparing a glance for him.

“Wait five minutes before following me, bastard.”

“I’ll see you next time you fucking bitch.” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before leaning against the wall and waiting for some time to pass so he wouldn’t arouse suspicion. “Hope you have a good time at lunch with Barber while my cum’s leaking down your thighs.”

You glared at him over your shoulder before heading back out to the hall, trying to hold back tears when you saw Andy waiting for you outside of his courtroom. Somehow you managed to return the smile he was giving you, hating yourself when you let him press his lips to your forehead softly before he was guiding you out of the courthouse and asking where you wanted to go for lunch. You pointedly ignored Paul walking out of the bathroom, his icy stare following after you as he rubbed his hand over the scratches you’d left on his neck.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Shit, Ludlow must have waited for him. “You look like you got in a fight with a wildcat.”

“Nothing happened, I’m just sick of that fucking cunt.” He relaxed when the man just snorted in agreement, tuning out his ranting as he thought about what it would be like to fuck your throat until you couldn’t talk anymore.

[crackinglamb]

Fanfic premise: Solas gets sent to Earth and ends up on Carly's doorstep. What will happen? Will he be recognized by rabid fans? Does his magic still work? How WILL they hide those ears?

From this post.

Now...this could go one of two ways...

First Scenario:

“Oh my god, Solas, what are you doing here?”

“How do you know my name?”

And Second Scenario:

“Oh my god, Solas, what are you doing here?”

“I found you at last, vhenan.”

(I like Second Scenario better)

It had been a long year without him.  Carly barely went anywhere, talked to no one.  Her job was gone, her apartment - miraculously - had not been rented to someone else, so she stayed in it.  Her money had done nothing but grow while autopaying all her bills, leaving her plenty for groceries.  Just the quiet life of a single woman who used to be the Consort of Fen’Harel.

Right?

At least her arm still worked.  She’d have been in a world of trouble without it.

The microwave beeped at the same time a knock fell at the door.  She nearly jumped out of her skin.  No one had ever knocked at her door.  Not since she returned to this colorless world of technology where no one she loved existed.

She looked through the peephole on her door and felt her lungs constrict. 

No, it wasn’t possible.  It simply...wasn’t.

She opened the door until the chain locked it in place and looked up into the silver gray eyes she’d missed so much it made her body clench with agony.  “Solas?”

“Hello, vhenan.”

She quickly closed the door, seeing a flash of confusion on his face as she did, unlatched the chain and opened it wide.  “Oh my god, Solas, what are you doing here?  How did you even get here?”

His lips ticked upwards on one side, not quite a smirk.  “I found you at last.”

She closed her eyes as the words penetrated the fog in her brain.  They were a switch, of course, from what he would say in that stupid promo ad.  But the tone was the same.  Exhausted, pained.  She reached out blindly and grabbed him, dragged him through the door so he was no longer standing in the hall.

He smelled like rain and leather and paint and she didn’t know when it started but she was crying into his chest and his arms were around her and the fit was weird.

“You’re taller.”

Then she began to laugh.  Of course she was taller.  She was human again.  She looked him over, seeing that he hadn’t changed a bit.  Still lean and angular, still elven...

“Please tell me no one accosted you about your ears.”

He smiled then, a soft gentle one that made tears spring to her eyes.  “Surprisingly no.  There is evidently some sort of...festival?  I saw many people wearing some form of pointed ears, as well as costumes that seemed outlandish in the extreme.  Although, several seemed to know who I was and called me by name.  Is this a common occurrence on your world?”

The gaming convention.  She’d forgotten all about it, since she hadn’t planned on going to it.  She laughed again.  The microwave beeped its reminder and Solas started, looking around the space he’d only ever seen once, in her memory.

She gave him a tour, figuring that was the first priority.  She stopped along the way to pull her dinner from the microwave so it would stop beeping at her.  Nervous energy seemed to fill her seeing him in her space.  She didn’t even care what cosmic miracle had wrought this chance.  They were together again.  She couldn’t stop touching him, holding his hand or pressing her cheek to his arm. 

They finally settled into a comfortable heap on her ratty old couch, her food forgotten.  All her touches and happiness at seeing him again had gone to its natural conclusion, and their clothes were scattered all over the place and their hearts still raced.  She was getting chilly though, and she dragged the fuzzy blanket over them.

“Right, now that we got that out of our system, tell me how you got here?”

“I am uncertain.  There was a strange sort of rift, where there should have been none.”

“So like the idiot Elvhen god you are, you decided to go through it?”

He scowled at her.  “It brought me here, did it not?”

“Does that mean we can get back through it?”

“Presumably, if it is still there.”

“You sound a bit unsure of that.”  She leaned up to look him in the face.  There was something worrying in his expression.

“I feel no connection to the Fade here, vhenan,” he finally whispered.

“That’s because Earth doesn’t have a Fade.  So I guess that means your magic is out, huh.”

“You needn’t sound fascinated.”

She grinned, she couldn’t help it.  “Welcome to humdrum, ma fen.”  She glanced at the window and saw it was dark.  “Gimme time to nap and pack anything I want to take with me, then we’ll go find it.  It’ll be easier in the dark with the streets quieter.  No one to see us.”

“I am happy I found you, Carly.  It has been...”

“Yeah.”  She leaned up and kissed him again.  “Yeah it has.”

(What, you think she’d allow him out of her sight if she got him back?  She just wants to get back to Thedas.)

[snarkspawn]

I was tagged by @baraste-legacy thank you so much! 

I started doing this with Nuru and then realised I’d done a very similar questionnaire for him a while ago, so I did it with the tiny tomato instead

tagging the usual suspects @guardiansinferno @viridoculus @hoiist @sotc @elhuen​ @plushchimera​ and everyone else who wants to do this

GENERAL

Name: Mayiee

Alias(es): Amy May, Cipher Nine, Legate

Gender: male

Age: mid to late twenties I think?

Place of birth: Dromund Kaas

Spoken languages: think of a language. He speaks it. And has already insulted you twice.

Sexual orientation: bisexual

Occupation: Commander of Sith Intelligence, advisor to the Commander of the Eternal Alliance

APPEARANCE

Eye colour: green

Hair colour: dark red

Height: 154cm

Scars and burns: one big scar right across his face from a blow that almost took out his right eye when he was a kid (his sister’s handiwork). A few others, some lightsaber burns here and there, but he always keeps them covered up 

Overweight/Underweight: probably slightly underweight; Imperial rations are perfectly adequate to keep you alive but not particularly nourishing and he tends to skip a meal if he’s busy (which is almost always)

FAVOURITE

Colour: the flushed deep red of Nate’s skin black

Music genre: no.

Movie genre: please.

TV show: why are you still talking.

Drink: caf

Book: the Imperial Intelligence Handbook I through XVI, probably. He definitely doesn’t have a locked drawer in his office with a bunch of cheap crime and detective fiction. And even if he did - which he doesn’t - he would never read them. And even if he did - which he doesn’t!! - it would purely be for educational purposes. He would absolutely never enjoy this kind of thing. Not at all. 

HAVE THEY

Passed university: yes, with flying colours

Had sex: yes

Had sex in public: absolutely not. 

Gotten pregnant: how would that even work

Kissed a boy: yes

Kissed a girl: yes

Gotten tattoos: have you seen his face?

Had a broken heart: yes, well, you know. There was this one time where that dumb idiot of a Mighty Wrath went to confront his old boss Valkorion with no one but his new best mate Darth Marr by his side because what could possibly go wrong, right, and was presumed killed in action for five kriffing years. It's fINE.

Been in love: no. yes. No. Yes. 

Stayed up for longer than 24 hours: it’s a common occurrence

ARE THEY

Scared easily: no

A virgin: no

Jealous easily: yes. Very.

Trustworthy: lmao no

Dominant/Submissive: he would literally never submit to anyone for anything (unless codewords are involved I guess)

A cuddler: he is about as cuddly as a feral rabid raccoon with two rows of razor sharp horns on his head. Nate is not bothered by this and May hates it (he doesn’t)

A kisser: hmph so what if he is! None of your kriffing business!!

In love: no. yes. No! YES. FUCK OFF!!

Single: no

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they harmed themselves: no

Thought of suicide: yes

Attempted suicide: no

Wanted to kill someone: oh yes. He probably wants to kill someone right now.

Rode a horse: if someone makes a pony joke they will regret it

Have / had a job: yes

Have any fears: he has a lot of fears, he just. Would rather die than admit to any of them, even to himself. He's simply too stubborn to be swayed by them. Fear can fuck right off ok!!

FAMILY

Sibling(s): an older sister who is a Sith Lord and a pain in the neck (literally)

Parents: also both Sith Lords and very elitist despite their relatively low station in the Sith pecking order. They do not get along for obvious reasons, and have been out of contact for years

Children: his boyfriend Natuun has a bunch of children so technically he is some kind of stepfather? May would never say so but he does have a very, very, Very soft spot for the oldest daughter who is not force sensitive, and would protect her with his life. The others … well they’re there, I suppose. 

Pets: Darth Snuggles the grophet

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

Coffee Shop au part four

(Segment one of three)

If I forget to tag something important please tell me.

(Present day)

(Small warning Acylius does use those he tortures for food for other demons and non mortal creatures to consume so if you have a problem with that then um just keep scrolling I guess ^^; )

What was this…that strange feeling of disappointment at seeing Black Hats chair being vacant; after all he’d only been there twice so it was not as if he was a regular customer, especially as they’d only been open for two days.

Why should the old demon stay until closing time anyway, just because he did it on the first day didn’t mean he’d do it again today, he had no reason to stay…Black Hat had been rather forward though, kissing him like that, not that he was complaining but , he wasn’t one to just play around and be used.

Friends with benefits was one thing, at least you knew where you both stood, and yet still, why did it feel so familiar, an old dream perhaps, after all who didn’t at least have one wet dream about the great Black Hat doing sordid things to your body right.

Especially with tentacles, while wearing priest robes.

Yes he had his kinks, but damn you if you tried to shame him for them.

He huffed, shoulders going slump, no this was ridiculous , feeling sad just because that idiot of a Gremlin just upped and left without so much as a good bye, Hat didn’t owe him anything and he didn’t owe Hat anything either.

Clearly he was crazy, he had finally fucking lost it, thinking of The Great Lord Black Hat owing him a good bye and a kiss on the cheek as if they were lovers, he’d just met the bastard.

No he needed to either relax or worry if the destroyer of worlds was going to ruin his café that’d he’d always wanted with his mischievous downright evil antics.

Acylius was currently grinding up their latest victim, a man who’d been abusing Nicodemus’s workers (don’t worry if you don’t know who that is I won’t be bringing him into this unless I need him for like filler scenes)

Body parts in neat piles on the counter top, ‘pork’ pies were on the menu tomorrow, this was Black Hat’s island so even the people knew some places the menu would cater to demons so if they saw the chalk was in red they knew it was demon cuisine, though of course there was always the daring person who’d ask for it anyway in which a waiver definitely had to be signed.

Hey, wasn’t going to be Acylius’s problem if they decided to off themselves on food that probably wasn’t for human consumption.

This particular man had been a pig and he was serving sow next week.

Vile beings needed to meet a vile end.

This was going to be a long night, he could manage though, at best he could manage on two nights of sleep during the week.

Currently the head of the meat sack was animated and still alive, the man was so far gone he’d reached that point of acceptance that this was happening and nothing could be done, so seeing his body being prepped for pastries and such was more amusing than anything.

“I’m a Legion demon Jake, that’s your name right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, anyway as I was saying I’m a Legion demon in this day and age that means nothing to most unless you are perhaps ancient or still follow the old ways, I have nothing to offer thee Great Lord Black Hat.”

Jake watched as the demon deboned, removed a hand and of his shaved one of his arms before washing it down to make sure all the hair was gone before slapping it into the mince meat maker.

“Last I heard your kind was like some kinda lucky charm right dude?”

“Yes, but he does not need that from me, if we did anything he would be interested in me for all of five minutes and bail, he is all shadows and darkness, I will literally spend weekends in my boxers eating cheese puffs if the week has been hard enough, hardly a turn on for someone like Black Hat.”

Acylius snapped while working on another piece.

“I dunno, some beings like to see their partners being able to feel that chill around them, but hey that’s just my jam you know, anyway stop whining, this guy is old as shit right, you don’t know, your Legion demon shit might actually put a huge boner in his pants.”

Jake taunted, smirking as he watched his killer bristle up, oooo hooo sensitive much.

You know those scenes in anime’s where the other character suddenly gets really tall, shadows where their eyes should be and their hair seems to just be blowing in the wind and there’s that broken glass sound sometimes.

That’s Acylius’s reaction as his mouth turns into a ground out grin that’s splitting wider and wider along where the scars are, ironically that injury is the reason he can smile this wide now when the demon in him starts to show.

Jake was going to die, he was already he dead he knew it so why not torment him just a little more and get it over with

“Awww no I know what it is baby demon, you want a daddy you can suckle on and-

Acylius brought the meat tenderiser down on Jake’s head repeatedly until there was only pulp left, brain matter and blood were splattered across his apron with a few deep scarlet streaks going across his cheek, how brightly the red stood out against the snow white skin.

He was staring at the mess he’d made, panting softly, pupils thin and biting his lip, alright maybe he’d enjoyed that a little too much, he frowned though when he saw the pies had been covered to, well perhaps they would still be salvageable.

Scraping the remains of the head into the bin marked biohazard he pulled the bag out and set it down getting rid of other pieces he no longer required, tomorrow non human waste disposal would be picking up the remains anyway.

Demencia had caught the show and was leaning on the door.

“Looks like you got a little too into that Lulu, sure you don’t want to tenderise me on the surface.”

(NOTE, Acylius’s nick name Lulu was made last year in November 2019 because my friend had trouble pronouncing his name, so I tried to think of a name that he’d only let close friends and loved ones call him and that’s where that comes from, not Helluva boss, just thought I’d point that out as there’s a Lulu world and Loo Loo land)

“Not now Demencia, I’m not in the mood for your jokes.”

Acylius ran his fingers through his hair, regretting it once he remembered oh yeah covered in blood; a shower would definitely be needed before bed.

“Ah I see, so the head got sassy huh?”

Flug, because yes reminder Acylius is Doctor Flug, paused at the backdoor and pouted

“Might have, he also said some very offensive words that I did not appreciate.”

Demmy folded her arms, shaking her head and smiling

“Well you showed that head who’s boss, now hurry up binch I want my cookies and hot chocolate, it’s late.”

Flug lovingly gave her the finger as he walked out the door while telling her she had two hands she could do it herself.

The back alley was dimly lit, not that he couldn’t see or choose to focus his vision to see clearer but sometimes it was nice just to appreciate light that softly glowed and curled around corners to take in the world in all different ways and settings…oh he missed rain, there hadn’t been any in nearly two months now, he missed how things glowed, street lamps became brighter and car lights so red and vibrant against the grey trailing along winding roads of shimmering black.

Perhaps it would soon when the snow had melted, he’d go for a long drive and listen to the rain hitting the roof of his car, patting against the windows, listening to the quiet tick, tick, tick of the vehicle when he switched on the indicator.

Yeah just drive out the middle of nowhere, strip down and run in the rain or just let it soak into his clothes as his breath streamed out in wispy clouds…

Ears twitching he heard a late party of drunks making their way home, he watched them pass by, they were completely unaware of him, if he were perhaps a rabid sort of demon they would be easy pickings, but that was not his game, at least not tonight, there was no scent that told him a wrong doing had been done, just a group of friends heading home for bed.

Snow had fallen in the tracks left by the bustling day life of the people around here and now in the silence he wondered was he lonely, Demencia’s offers had sometimes had been all too tempting simply out of need for comfort and to be close to someone, sometimes it seemed she needed it just as much as he did when they’d just lean on each other and complain about their day.

Looking up he found someone watching him from the shadows, well more saw a pair of eyes, completely yellow, no white to be seen, oranges and reds, as if he were looking at the sun, shivering as a breeze rolled through he pulled down his sleeves, goose bumps rising, a tingling down his spine, just the little things that reminded him he was alive, he was not afraid of what lingered in the shadows, there was no sense of danger.

Perhaps they were a Legion fan , someone caught off guard by his appearance, after all Flug knew his scars could be quiet unsettling to some people…though come to think of it he did sense an air of fear about this being, still they were wide and unmoving.

Really the sensible thing to do would be to just go inside and ignore this creature, yet something kept him there a longing to talk to it, placing the garbage into the bins he smiled just a little

“You know stranger, you remind me of someone…someone I feel like I should know.”

Acylius’s ears lay flat as he heard them softly whimper, it sounded so sad.

“I am sorry, I was not being offensive I assure you, this person I speak of was very kind, at least he was in the dream, I dreamt when I was little , funnily enough a night like this, Mother had locked me out…”

He held one hand in the other looking at them, fingers curling around his thumb

“My fingers were so cold and red I could barely feel them, or the rest of myself to be honest…heh you probably do not want to hear the tired ramblings of an out of date demon.”

“No, please continue.”

There was silence again, that whispered voice, it comforted him, made him feel at ease, this indeed truly was a strange day.

“Mother had locked me out, I didn’t cry or beg her to let me back in, I knew she would not open the door, so I laid down cheek to the snow, despite being almost numb my face burned, my face…”

Tracing along his scars as he recalled the moment could not help but wince

“I had to be careful still they had barely healed by that point, but I remember how good the cold felt on them, red and angry they seemed to only be satisfied when pressed to the freezing earth, I knew that night or at least believed I was going to die and…I was alright with that until I saw a pair of eyes just like yours.”

Acylius took a step forward only stopping when he saw this being step back

“They were gold, I thought they were so beautiful , I thought maybe the angels we were told about were not so bad if they could come for something like me, his claws hands reached down for me but I didn’t see his face, all I heard was that I was coming home with him and his name…his name was…”

Acylius held his head in his hands, scrubbing them down his face

“His name was Cruentus.”

When he looked back at where the eyes had been there was only darkness, the demon in the dark had disappeared so quickly he wondered for a moment if they’d even been there.

No, nope, nope, that dream was not real, that being was not Cruentus, it was all coincidence and he was just exhausted, yes that was it, perhaps he should sleep tonight, or maybe he’d snacked on too much of Jake while he was working, or had too many sugary treats either way, it was pies in the fridge and off to bed.

Opening the back door he locked it behind him, ignoring the fact Demencia was chomping on one of the pies, after all she knew what was in them if she wanted to eat it that was up to her, his mind was elsewhere.

“Mmmm you tenderized this one good, Legs, nice and juicy.”

Usually her friend would react to that name, at least grunt or gently nudge her and tell her not to call him that, something was clearly bothering Acylius.

“Legs?”

Demencia asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder, only for him to turn and pick her up by the front of her shirt, snarling as he did so

“Do not call me that name!”

Looking down at him, Demencia could really see something wasn’t right here, was he remembering something to do with that name, like it had always annoyed him, but that glare, the disheveled hair and fangs all bared …honestly in another situation he would be hot as fuck…alright she was already thinking he looked hot as fuck but this was not the time or place.

Touching Acylius’s face lightly, she watched as his ears flicked, his breathing was ragged, his eyes returning from being solid blue to having pupils and irises again, her hands were warm and comforting and he found himself leaning into them, lips pressed against her palm…she was there to ground him in his bad moments and he could never thank his friend enough for that.

“You mind setting me down you tree.”

Demencia laughed softly.

He carefully set her back down and pulled her in for a hug

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I would never hurt you, never.”

Nuzzling against his chest and wrapping her arms around him, patting his back

“Hey, hey now, none of that you dumb tree, I know you have gaps in your memory, did you remember why do you don’t like that name?”

“Hate, I don’t just dislike that name, I hate it…all I can hear is someone called Vincent and they make me curl up and die, I have no face only a voice, if I ever heard it…I would know…”

Flug was quiet, taking in just how small she was against him, reminding him how small most were against him like this, his talons formed, slowly stroking her hair, playing with the fuchsia overlay, down to her neck where it faded to lime green, such an interesting choice of colours to wear in ones hair.

“You already know I just appeared back into existence, as if the world itself birthed me, I was somewhere forgotten…and seeing Black Hat today, I think…no it is a stupid notion to think he could see me as anything.”

He kissed the top of her head, thankful that she had not let go, Demencia was the one being who never seemed to be afraid of him, who he knew he could trust and rely on in these moments where memories were trying to break through the surface and suffocated when they could not make it.

“I am a Legion demon, no more than a trinket in the end, I am a nothing in his world and I am okay with that, I have a nice peaceful life and a coffee shop just like I always wanted…”

He sat with her on the counter, as she sat on one of his thighs

“This is just a hug, you don’t need more right?”

Demmy enquired, slightly hopeful because who didn’t want to climb him, honestly, he was an idiot for not seeing he didn’t need to be some grand demon to be wonderful.

“Yes, just a hug…I wish I could say I grew up in a loving home with Christmases like in the movies, that I could tell you my life’s story, talk about a time I scraped my knee when I was small and had a mother who put cute cat plasters on me just because I like cats.”

She listened and let him stroke her hair, it’d always calmed him to pet soft things, so perhaps she might use shampoos that were just a little pricier than she’d usually buy simply to make sure her hair was soft for these broken moments no one else saw.

Even though he was not sobbing, made no notion he was crying, the damp warmth on her shoulder told her otherwise.

“I want to tell you the times my Father took me for ice cream, my first kiss with the person I fell in love with, something…anything, but there’s nothing there.”

She listened attentively until he had nothing left to say, carefully taking his hand from her scalp; Demencia held his face and looked at him

“Damn Sillyus, they really did send you back with nothing more than a leaflet.”

“I suppose, but I have so much to thank you for, when you found me on that street, I only remembered enough to get by, to survive, but you helped me to settle into this time and be a part of the modern world.”

Acylius kissed her forehead before pressing his to hers, eyes closed as he whispered

“I’m so tired of being lost, of being unsure of what I am, who I am, I just want to bake, make coffee and kill people in my basement, I think fortune smiled on me for a moment when you found me, I think I might just give you the world if you asked.”

“Awww come on dude, sounds like a love confession here, I have bills to pay off and knew there was a darker side in me, you’re the Sweeny to my Lovett.”

She teased fondly, lightly smacking the back of his head, smiling as he managed a laugh

“I guess I could agree platonically with that.”

“But honestly Slender Man, babe if you wanted to plant your tentacles and leave your seed in me I wouldn’t say no.”

Acylius rolled his eyes and shook his head, using a tea towel to wipe his face

“Honestly woman you are bloody hopeless.”

“Yeah but you love me all the more for it.”

She grinned punching him playfully on the shoulder

“Perhaps I do, but I am not as hot as you like to say I am, I hide my face, I hate when people look at my scars and pity me.”

Demmy raised a brow and climbed off of his leg, flicking his forehead

“I know you like to hide your face behind glamour and tricks but you’re beautiful even if you don’t see it dumbass, I’m starting to wonder what the fuck happened outside that had you coming back in as if someone stole your last apple crown and there’ll never be another one again on the face of the planet.”

She put the kettle on and took out the upside down pineapple cake; this was definitely a cake and tea situation

“First of all, do not say such blasphemous things, life would not be worth living without apple crowns, second of all…I think, I know I said there’s nothing there but I think I might have had a memory about my childhood involving Cruentus.”

Demencia nearly dropped the mug she was holding, setting it down she turned to face him

“Holy fucking shit, you mean thee fucking Cruentus, Hellhound butler, Hell Knight, works for the brooding clearly wants you to nail his ass Black Hat, that Cruentus…ahh I hear he has eyes like the fucking sun.”

Acylius gave her a deadpan look, hands on hips as he stood, looming over her, trying to look seriously only for it to falter

“You Demmy are just horny on main.”

“So what if I am? Gonna call me a slut like my last partner?”

She swatted away his playfully prodding hand.

“No, I never understood why it’s perfectly fine for men to have as many partners as they wish but seen as something terrible when a woman just wants to enjoy her life the same way, society is mad…also no more jokes on Black Hat you wicked beastie.”

Demencia would be lying if she didn’t admit his ability to shift from one mood to the other sometimes made her head spin, but it was clear he’d needed that moment to talk, shrugging she turned back to the kettle

“Alright, alright I’ll behave at least for now, I mean it’s clear the big bad doesn’t want you, how could he possibly want you…even though anyone with eyes could see he kept checking you out and every single coffee you brought him in hopes your stupid number was on it somewhere.”

Demencia couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at his sounds of huffing and frustration and heard him sit at the table, she did know there was stories, legends really by this point of Cruentus having a son, but you literally had to pour through footnotes and any books that might have had more information had been removed from shelves and privatized under the order of Black Hat himself.

End of segment one

(I'll try and type up segment two tomorrow)

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

prompt: Hat Kid, Bow Kid, and Mu, postgame, get along surprisingly well. Unfortuantely NONE of them have a fully working sense of danger and self-preservation. Sometimes them hanging out is just normal hangouts. Someones they get into Shenanigans. Usually someone appoints themself Voice of Reason and keeps the chaos relatively safe but sometimes that system fails. Which is why random adults, up to and including the Snatcher, have found themselves abruptly in charge of three reckless kids.

Thank you for the request!

Climbing

When Hat Kid had suggested they climb the big tree in Subcon Forest, Mu hadn’t quite known how big said tree was. She hadn’t known trees could even get that big. Even when she craned her neck up to look at it, she couldn’t see the top due to how close they stood.

“Now that I look at it again… are we sure this is a good idea?” Bow said, voicing Mu’s own doubts but…

“It’ll be fine,” she said. While this wasn’t Mu’s first time in Subcon Forest, she didn’t get to come here often. She wanted to see more of it, the top of the tree was the best place to do that – and as long as Cooking Cat never found out about this specific adventure, she wouldn’t even need to sit through a safety lecture later like she had with a few other adventures of theirs. “We climb trees and stuff all the time and barely ever fall.”

“Yeah,” Hat Kid agreed. “Now let’s go. Race you guys to the top.” She took off, leaving Bow and Mu little choice but to follow.

Hat Kid started climbing first followed shortly by Bow, landing Mu in last place. For now, anyway. She was taller than them now, her arms and legs longer, she should be able to overtake them easily.

Climbing it was actually quite easy. Its bark was thick and lumpy, providing plenty of hand and footholds. Reaching the beginning of the tree’s many branches made their progress quicker. It was almost like it was made for climbing.

Mu remained behind though, not much but enough to be mildly frustrating. She decided to change that about halfway up. She started moving faster, going for riskier branches to pull herself up with. It paid off as she passed Bow. She was closing in Hat Kid now, just little more and…

The branch she’d grabbed to pull herself up snapped with a loud crack. Suddenly she was falling. Air whistled past her ears as, branches painfully whipping her as she fell through them. She closed her eyes with a whimper. She couldn’t die like this, she…

She jerked to a stop just as suddenly. Something had caught her cape. A branch probably. She needed to grab onto something before it broke under her weight!

She opened her eyes and froze, putting her hands over her mouth to stifle a yelp of surprise. It wasn’t a tree branch that had caught her but the infamous Snatcher and he did not look pleased.

“What made you idiots think this was a good idea?” he asked, turning his frown away from Mu, keeping hold of her by her cape.

“It’s fun,” Hat Kid replied. “But uh… Mu, are you okay?”

Mu managed to twist herself to look up at Hat Kid and Bow still halfway up the tree. She gave a thumbs up because she was okay, just shaken a bit.

Snatcher sighed. “Of course you think it’s fun, you’re insane. I suggest coming back down now though because I’m not going to catch the next one of you that falls.”

“Catch me too,” Bow called before jumping.

Despite what he’d just said, Snatcher jerked into motion to catch her with his other hand. “You idiot children!” Oh, he was mad now.

Bow giggled, almost just as insane as Hat Kid. “Thank you.”

Snatcher growled, sounding a lot like a rabid animal and sending a chill down Mu’s spine. But despite that he was almost kind of gentle as he lowered Mu the rest of the way to the forest floor. He put Bow done too before looking back up at Hat Kid. Free from his grasp Mu was half tempted to run but… she needed to know how this played out. According to Hat Kid, Snatcher wasn’t as evil as his reputation made him out to be. The fact that he’d saved Mu’s life and then caught Bow hinted that that might actually be the case. So it was probably safe to stay and watch whatever happened next.

“Kid,” he said. “I’m serious, I will drag your dumbass back down here if you don’t start climbing down this instant.”

Hat Kid’s face wasn’t visible from down here but it was easily to imagine. It was probably the same look of annoyance she had any time an adult came along and ruined one of their adventures, regardless of whether or not they were justified in interfering. “Ugh, fine Dad.”

“I’m not your dad so don’t call me…”

Hat Kid jumped. She was insane, both her and Bow Kid. Snatcher caught her of course mere seconds after her leap of faith towards him.

“Wee,” she said with a giggle, looking up at his shocked expression that quickly morphed into a scowl.

“Why would you do that?” he said.

“It’s the fastest way down,” Hat Kid replied with a giggle.

“I should’ve let you fall and break your useless neck.”

“You’d never do that. You care way too much about me to let me get hurt. That’s why you were watching us, right? To make sure we wouldn’t get hurt.”

“I was not watching you. I just happened to be passing by when your friend fell and decided to catch her because the last thing I need right now is to deal with you pests dying and becoming damn ghosts in my forest. Because then you would never leave.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Hat Kid’s bravery was forever to be admired.

Bow had moved over to stand by Mu. “This is what we meant when we told you he’s a big ‘soon-deh-ray’,” she whispered. “He cares, he just doesn’t want to admit it for some reason.”

That certainly seemed to be the case as he lowered Hat Kid to ground to stand next to them. “You three,” he gestured to them, frowning, “no more climbing trees. If you must play in the forest, it’s going to be a safer activity than that. In fact, I know just the thing.”

The world around the four of them shifted to purple. When it faded, they were in a what looked like a village. Subcon Village if Mu had to guess, she’d never been to it before but Hat Kid and Bow had mentioned it a few times.

“You guys are going to play ball with the Subconites,” Snatcher said. “One of them has a soccer ball somewhere. Find it and entertain yourselves for while instead of being a nuisance.” With that he vanished.

“I don’t think he’s actually gone,” Hat Kid said as she turned back to face Mu and Bow. “He’s still watching us to make sure we don’t run off and get in ‘trouble’ again.”

Mu glanced all around but saw no trace of him. Which made sense, this was his domain, he should be able to hide in it near flawlessly. “Why is he like that though? If he cares why wouldn’t he say so? What if somebody he cares about gets the wrong idea and gets upset when he pretends he hates them or whatever?”

“Well uh… I think that’s what he wants.” Hat Kid shrugged. “He wants to push people away because of bad stuff that happened to him when he was alive.”

Mu had trouble picturing Snatcher as a living being, though he had to have been at some point, right? “What kind of stuff?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not? I want to know.” How could Hat Kid just dangle that bit of juicy gossip in front of Mu and not deliver on it?

“It’s not her place to tell,” Bow said. “She didn’t even tell me. Just like I can’t tell you guys stuff I know about Moonjumper. And if you knew any of Cooking Cat’s dirty secrets, you wouldn’t feel right telling us, right?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess so.”

“Good!” Hat Kid said. “Now let’s go find that soccer ball and play whatever soccer is. I’m sure the Subconites will teach us, they’re pretty good about that kind of thing.”

Well, it wouldn’t be as fun as climbing a big tree but honestly, Mu maybe wasn’t in the mood to do that anymore anyway. It wasn’t everyday one got a chance to play around in Snatcher’s forest and have it be okay. And it was still something new.

For this drabble event.

[bldreamer]

Soccer Love | TT

TharnType: 

Summary: Tharn surprises Type at his soccer match. It doesn’t exactly go to plan. Genre: Hurt/Comfort. EmotionallyBruised!Tharn. Warnings: Descriptions of a bloody nose.

A/N: Because I’m bitter we never got to see Tharn in the stands at a footie match. And thank you always to @kdramama.

Two months into their official official relationship, after the breakups and makeups, after the fights and the tears and the soft whispers of I love you’s, something rather shocking occurs to Tharn.

He realizes, one breezy Wednesday afternoon, that’s he’s never seen Type play a soccer match. Not up close, anyway.

Not because he doesn’t want to or because he doesn’t care. Simply because they’re in completely different faculties at university and their schedules never line up. Honestly speaking, they’re lucky if they get time to meet up for lunch once a week.

Type usually hates surprises, but Tharn hopes he’ll like this one. His afternoon classes have been canceled due to some AC issues in the music building so Tharn follows the steps down to the university field, butterflies in his stomach. He remembers Type saying that morning that he might be home late after the match if the team has something to celebrate. Tharn hopes he can be Type’s good luck charm and celebrate with them.

The stands are crowded in some places and empty in others, the match already underway. Tharn doesn’t spot Type right away and he doesn’t want to barge to the bottom step next towards the player's benches and risk making Type nervous.

Not that he’s the kind to get nervous. Then again, Tharn didn’t think he was either and yet he can feel his stomach doing backflips as he shuffles through the spectators.

Tharn settles on a spot roughly halfway down near a group of cheering girls holding banners. Tharn doesn’t know if he’s proud of jealous when he spots Type’s name on one of them.

He decides on the former and shakes his head fondly, eyes turning back to the pitch and the scattered players who all look the same from afar.

Save for one.

Dark hair, fierce eyes, sunkissed skin. The way he moves on the pitch, graceful and fluid. Tharn would recognize those toned legs anywhere.

He smiles at the sight, not at all surprised. Type is shouting at one of the players on the opposing team, ready to start a fight. Techno standing in between them as usual, trying to defuse the situation. Champ coming up from behind to step in if he needs to.

The referee comes in and barks at Type and the other player, waving his yellow and red cards at them. They quickly dissipate in opposite directions on the field, Techno patting Type on the back while he grumbles something no doubt full of swear words, and the game continues.

Tharn sits with his hands clasped together, knees bouncing nervously, watching the back and forth of the ball. He doesn’t pay the other players much attention, eyes focused on one in particular. His narrow waist and tanned thighs.

Tharn doesn’t know much about soccer, the positions, and the play, but he does know to cheer like he’s watching his gladiator defeat a rabid lion when Type skillfully kicks the ball into the net, scoring his team a goal.

He rises to his feet -as do the girls next to him- clapping his hands together hard enough to hurt in the excitement.

Type dives into the circle of teammates around him in celebration. Tharn places his fingers in his mouth to whistle, not anticipating it to be quite so loud.

Tharn watches as Type’s head whips around, eyes squinting in his direction. He leaves his circle of teammates and approaches the edge of the pitch. Angry frown clear as day and suddenly Tharn’s surprise seems like a huge mistake.

He wonders if he sits down quickly and quietly, whether he’ll get away with it until the end of the match. Maybe slip out before he’s caught for definite. He’s wearing the same white shirt as everyone else around him and it’s not like he has any distinctive features, he could lie and pretend he wasn’t even here.

Tharn isn’t sure if their relationship is common knowledge to the whole team or just Type’s close friends. He hasn’t asked and he doesn’t want to push it. He and Type have been getting back on their feet, finding themselves again as individuals and as a couple. They both have a lot of history to move on from and it’s no use in rushing Type into something if he isn’t ready. Tharn doesn’t want to do anything to risk losing him again. The mere thought of doing something that would upset Type makes his throat constrict.

“Tharn?!” Type shouts.

Tharn’s heart pounds in his ears, flashbacks of Type telling him he feels like a joke, he feels like he’s losing himself, he feels like he hates himself, running through his mind.

“Hey, asshole!” Someone yells in the background. “Are we playing or not?”

“Fuck off, I’m coming!” Type barks at them, before turning back. “Ey, Tharn!” he repeats, hand waving in the air. Frustrated confusing melting into a grin.

Tharn feels weak at the knees at the relief, smiling back, when out of the corner of his eye he sees the ball fly through the air and hit Type square on the side of his face.

The crowd of girls gasp in unison.

Type’s knees buckle and his teammates run towards him in slow motion.

Someone blows a whistle in the distance and Tharn feels frozen until he sees the blood. Pouring down Type’s chin as he grabs his nose, face twisted in pain as he drops to the ground.

Tharn’s feet are moving down the steps before he realises he’s even blinked.

“Type? Type!” he stammers.

There’s a fight starting on the pitch, half of Type’s teammate's verses a handful of the opposition.

“Fucking asshole! You are fucking dead!” Type promises from the floor. Words muffled but as ferocious as ever.

“Type!” Tharn calls, rushing towards the small crowd around him.

“Mother fucker!” Type grumbles, Techno knelt in front of him, face panicked.

“Is it broken?” Techno flails. “Oh, shit. Is your nose broken?”

“How the fuck should I know?!” Type whines through his nostrils. “Fuck!”

“Type,” Tharn says, swallowing the lump in his throat. Too afraid to push through to reach his boyfriend. His friend. His roommate. Whatever he’s supposed to be in front of all these people.

He takes a shuddering breath, fists clenched by his sides.

Like a moth to a flame, Type’s pain-filled eyes find him in the melee.

Tharn is moving before he can think. “Type?” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Tharn,” Type growls in reply and his teammates step back, like a parting sea. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Me?”

“You distracted me, asshole!”

His teammates laugh, one of them patting Tharn on the shoulder, pushing him forward.

Tharn’s fingers start to shake. Type is hurt and Type is angry.

“Are you okay?” Tharn murmurs, bending down. Unsure if he’s okay to touch, to cup Type’s cheek, to pull him to his chest as he bleeds.

“No!” Type barks back in his face.

Behind them, Champ pulls off his soccer jersey and bends down in front of Type, prying his hand away from his nose.

“Ah, shit!” Type yells when Champ pokes at his face before pushing his bunched up t-shirt into it. Each wince like a knife in Tharn’s gut.

“It’s not broken, but keep the pressure on,” Champ says, looking across at Tharn who nods.

Tharn cups the back of Type’s neck and pushes the fabric over his nose, pinching the bridge underneath to stop the bleeding. Type grumbles at him, eyes glaring. Tharn is just grateful he finally has a reason to touch him, even if he’s cursed the whole time.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers so that only Type can hear. His words catch in his throat. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Type asks, voice at a normal volume despite how nasal he sounds.

“I wanted to see you play. I didn’t think it through.”

Type’s hand grips his wrist. “I’ve been dropping hints for weeks that I wanted you to come sometime.”

Tharn shakes his head, he shouldn’t have come.

“I always thought you were busy,” Type pouts. “So I stopped nagging.”

“I thought you were telling me when you had matches so I’d know not to wait up?”

“No, idiot.”

“You wanted me to come watch you play?” Tharn repeats.

“Mh, I just thought I’d actually be playing the ball, not be blindsided by it. And you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You know I hate surprises.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry, asshole.” Type scoffs, “We should just buy an ice machine for the apartment at this point.”

“For your injuries, or for…”

“Shut up.”

The referee blows his whistle again in the distance, calling something about a penalty. Type’s teammates cheer above them.

“Does that mean you won?” Tharn guesses, but only from the reactions around them.

Type chuckles, pulling Champ’s t-shirt and Tharn’s hand away from his face. He’s covered in blood, his top lip is bruised and there’s a small cut across his nose. But he’s no longer bleeding and he’s smiling which Tharn counts as a win. 

Type holds Tharn’s chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I listen to you drone on about music, it’s time you listened to me while I educate you on the love of my life.”

“Deal,” Tharn smiles. “As long as it comes second place to your other love.”

Type smirks. “Don’t count on it, asshole.” He moves to stand with the help of Techno and Tharn hovers close as he walks back towards the pitch.

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m taking my free kick,” Type informs him, wiping his hand under his nose, grimacing at the dried blood. 

“You’re still playing?” Tharn says, like he’s insane.

“That’s how a penalty usually works,” Type  tuts.

“Well, technically, I could take it for you,” Techno offers.

“Fuck off,” Type sniggers, pushing his friend off and walking on his own towards his other teammates waiting for him. He turns over his shoulder from afar, “Sit down over there,” he says, nodding at the players bench, “And watch me crush these guys.”

“Your fans will get jealous,” Tharn smirks, hearing the girls from earlier cheering.

“Who needs fans when I have a boyfriend?” Type shrugs, grinning ear to ear.

~Fin.

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio 9/?

Part 8

"What's up with that?" She asks after so long has gone by that Jon is starting to think he's safe. He lets out an exhalation that hopefully doesn't sound as exhausted as he is with this whole matter.

Jon is, regardless of what Tim -or Georgie, or even Gerry himself- used to say, not completely hopeless at reading people. Only mostly. He's not entirely blind as to how the mood has shifted in his interactions with the man in question.

"Nothing." Jon says, then adds sullenly. "I don't know."

Daisy squeezes his hand. "Martin?"

"I don't know." Jon turns his head away to avoid Daisy's gaze. "I- Daisy, I think there's bigger things to worry about."

"It's good to- I'm trying to think of the little things too." Daisy shrugs. "It feels like having a purpose."

IX

On the days after the Buried, Daisy gets to know the world again. Or more accurately, the Institute, and the people in it. The difference is mind-blowing, now that the Hunt is only a background presence in her mind instead of the driving force behind her thoughts.

"You look... better," she tells Melanie one evening. It's not really a visible change, but she remembers Melanie from before the Unknowing, always bristling with a rage so barely restrained it used to set Daisy on edge too. Back then her thoughts had been mostly focused on how to take Melanie down if it came to a fight, and she has the feeling the same can be said of Melanie. Just two rabid dogs sizing the other up and waiting for the tension to crack.

"I guess I am," Melanie frowns down at the computer screen, and when Daisy leans over she can see she's taking a quiz of some sort. Probably not the approved use of Institute equipment, but she doesn't seem to care. "Did Jon tell you about the bullet?"

"He mentioned it," Daisy shrugs. A lot of things were said in the depths of the coffin, trying to bring the other some measure of comfort.

"Gerry says they got it off me just in time. Apparently I was a bad accident away from becoming a full avatar." Melanie gives her a careful look out the corner of her eye. "I'm guessing that's why you look..."

"Like shit?" Daisy asks with a dry smile, and after a moment Melanie smiles back.

"I was trying to look for a better term."

"Sugar-coating doesn't suit you."

"Can't say I have much practice." Melanie goes back to her quiz, and Daisy goes back to thinking.

Her condition is hardly surprising, considering everything; the Hunt has been pulling at her from the moment she climbed out the coffin after Jon, but she's done her best to ignore the call of the blood. Daisy's very aware that this is abstinence without recovery, and that her reticence to join in with the Hunt's other hounds is her choosing a slow but certain death.

But she's herself again, and finding out who that is feels like a goal worth dying for.

"Why are you an onion?" Daisy frowns at the computer screen showing the results of Melanie's quiz.

"I was always going to be an onion," Melanie shrugs, "I just wanted to know what kind."

Daisy's thinking about the right way to answer to that statement, when Melanie's phone pings in her pocket. She watches her pull it out, and her face softens at whatever it is she just received.

"I have to go. You should- I think he's recording, but you can probably go in if you're quiet." Melanie points at Jon's door. Even the way she refers to him is different, vaguely distasteful apathy instead of the tense hostility Daisy remembers from before the Unknowing, which is a relief.

The irony of the situation doesn't escape Daisy, how she walked into the coffin with half a mind to kill Jonathan Sims, and walked out ready to kill for Jonathan Sims.

"I can be alone for a while. It's alright." The call of the blood is easier to ignore when she's in someone else's company, but Daisy's not- she's noticed how Basira looks at her, the tired tension of her lips when Daisy follows her around the Institute and she has to pretend it doesn't bother her. Daisy's broken, but she will not be a burden. Not to anyone, but most of all not to Basira.

"Okay, then. Want anything from outside?" Melanie asks as she shoves an arm through her jacket's sleeve.

"I- some chips, if you could get them. Or any food that doesn't come packaged, really."

Melanie briefly nods an acknowledgment as she leaves, and she closes the door behind her before Daisy can ask her to leave it open.

It's okay. It's just a room, just a door. There's plenty of space to breathe and to move. If she focuses, she can feel Jon's presence in his office; he's okay too. They're- they made it out.

Daisy opens her eyes, unsure when she closed them, and finds that the walls have started closing in. She tries to ignore them by clicking back on Melanie's onion quiz, surely that will distract her right? The room is unchanged, she's- it's safe out here, safer than outside for sure, where she'd no doubt find a trail and be compelled to chase it, to run until her legs hurt and she can smell the panicked exhaustion her victim's perspiration, until they cannot keep from her any longer and she's forced to claim the prize and move on to the next-

"You alright there?" When the man's voice pulls her away from her mind, Daisy realizes she's closed her eyes again. Her fists are clenched tightly on the desk, and when she forces them open she finds a matching set of angry red crescent moons on her palms. "You're growling."

She looks up; the man is standing before the desk, looking warily down at her and he smells of lavender and Jon, which helps her push away the last traces of the blood.

"I'm okay." She mumbles, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to release her hunch over the desk, leaning back against her chair. She's heard a lot about this man lately; Basira calls him by his surname, like the ones she doesn't trust, but Melanie calls him Gerry with a sort of relaxed companionship, and when Jon does the same there's an undeniable undercurrent of fondness in the tone he gives the name. She has yet to meet him herself, but this seems as good a time as any, now that the room has stopped trying to suffocate her. "You're Gerry Keay?"

The man holds his silent contemplation for another minute, before he shrugs and grabs the chair across the desk. "That would be me. I've never seen an avatar of the Hunt look so famished," he observes. "Your kind doesn't usually deprive themselves."

"Well, I do," Daisy grumbles.

"Yeah. I can see that."

Silence. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's not uncomfortable either, and the company keeps both the Buried and the Hunt at bay.

"Are you here for Jon?" Daisy asks, and Gerry nods.

"Always. But right now I have to see Martin first."

That's... unexpected, to say the least. "Why do you have to see Martin?"

The man gives her an amused, resigned smile and a shrug. "Jon," he says like it's all the reason he needs, and Daisy decides on the spot that she likes Gerry Keay.

"I guess that tracks," she nods. "Why don't you go then?"

"You looked like you needed someone to talk to for a bit."

"That helps." Daisy nods. While she would've sneered at it before, she's now terribly aware that kindness is a virtue sorely lacking in the world they move in. "I'm alright now."

"You sure?" Gerry's eyeing her strangely, and only then does Daisy remember he's aligned with the Beholding as well.

"Yes. I'm- I'll just keep myself busy." Daisy looks at the computer. "I can... figure out what kind of onion I am."

The man blinks rapidly a couple times, probably trying to process what she just said, and Daisy wonders if Melanie felt the same perverse satisfaction when she said it.

"Sounds- yeah. I'll go now," Gerry says, climbing to his feet again. He turns at the door, and gives Daisy another evaluating look. "You're… very strong. Thank you. For helping him back." And he's gone before Daisy can ask what that even means.

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

"You should be careful with that. Could be dangerous." Peter half-turns before he leaves, a hand on the edge of the ajar door and ice-cold eyes heavy on Martin's nape.

"Not any more dangerous than anything else in my life, really." Martin shrugs, eyes fixed on the bright computer screen. Interacting with Peter is only tolerable because it feels only marginally like talking to another human being, but even that is enough to upset his stomach.

"Well, if you look at it like that. But I think you'll find that doing something dangerous out of your own free will is always better than being controlled to do it, even if that will is motivated by your frankly worrying infatuation with a man that does not care about you."

"Hm," is all Martin says. Out the corner of his eye he sees Peter's lips curl into a satisfied smile, but he can't bring himself to care. It's not like he's telling any lies either way.

"Okay! Now I really am running late, so if you don't mind?" Peter says in that cheerful, jovial tone Martin is quickly growing tired of, before he closes the office door behind him.

Martin sighs. This is- it's been harder, lately.

He still remembers why he's doing this, and he still cares, he really does. And everything is going according to plan, Peter really does think Martin believed his 'only you can save the world' spiel, Jon is out of the coffin, Daisy's alive, the Institute is -mostly- safe... but he just got the first actually feasible proof that the Extinction might be a real thing, and all he can think is that he's glad Peter left quickly.

The door flies open, and Martin jumps to his feet so abruptly that the chair he was sitting on tumbles to the floor.

"What- Gerard? What are you doing here?" Martin asks angrily, his heart beating madly in his throat. "Peter could've seen you!"

"I waited until he left, Martin, I'm not an idiot." The man rolls his eyes as he closes and locks the door behind him. Martin isn't sure it would be enough to stop Peter from coming in through the Lonely, but it's something.

"So what, were you eavesdropping?" Now that the shock is starting to pass, Martin is steadily moving towards annoyance in the spectrum of emotion. He told Gerard he didn't want him messing with his business, and yet here he is, just-

"You still look a bit gray," Gerard comments, coming to sit across Martin's desk like they had a freaking appointment. "You know what he said was bullshit, don't you?"

"He said a lot of things," Martin mumbles as he picks his chair back up and sits under Gerard's heavy gaze.

"There we go again." Gerard rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes are a beautiful color, Martin notices -if he still felt anything when writing his poetry, he'd be inclined to find a suitable comparison- and they couldn't be more different from Peter's. Gerard is actually looking at him, instead of through him, like Peter does. "Are you always this stubborn?"

"Excuse me? I'm not- you're the one who broke in here!" Martin sputters indignantly. "After I told you very clearly that I didn't want your help. If anyone is stubborn, that's-"

"The door was unlocked. Next time you want to be alone, check that first." Gerard shrugs, leaning backwards on his chair until the front legs lift off the floor.

Martin rolls his eyes. "Would it have stopped you?"

"For about five minutes." The man gives him a smug smile that fits his face like a glove, a handsome, mischievous troublemaker that takes far too much pride on the admission. "You look better now."

Martin grumbles, shoving the tape towards him across the desk's polished surface. "Here. Dekker's statement."

"What did you make of it?" The chair's legs land heavily against the floor, and Gerard reaches to take the tape and shove it in his jacket's pocket.

"It's... very odd. It feels like the Spiral, the Lonely and the End all rolled into one, with a side of the Stranger to boot." Martin worries at his bottom lip, frowning. His thoughts as he puts them into words are slow like dripping treacle, like waking up on a cold morning, but he can feel with no room for uncertainty that they're his thoughts, not the Lonely's. "I'm- I don't know if it is a new power, but I- the fears don't usually interact like that, do they?"

"Not really. They're more likely to fight over territory than to share it." Gerard's face is thoughtful when Martin lifts his gaze to look for answers there. "Sometimes they get along if their domains overlap. I've seen the Forsaken mix with the Vast and the Buried, but never at the same time because those two are opposites. The more entities that try to get in the mix, the more likely it is to fail."

"Hm. So? New kid in town?"

"I'll have to listen to it. I'm not exactly thrilled by the idea, though." Gerard sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck in a slow, deliberate movement that belies his exhaustion. "But it's not out of the question."

"H-how's Jon?" Martin blurts out. Gerard's mouth twitches, and Martin clears his throat, looking pointedly away.

"He's... better. I don't think anyone's left the coffin before, so it's not like we have much to compare his progress to. Got a nice new mark out of it, of course. We're this close to completing the card."

"The what?"

"It's just something I- " Gerard blinks, a confused frown coming to rest at his face all of a sudden. "...Something I thought of."

"...Yes?" Martin arches an eyebrow, but Gerard's frown only grows more pronounced when he shuts his eyes tight, as if trying to focus on a though- "Oh. Oh, you're bleeding again!"

Martin goes rustling frantically around in his desk, until he finds a box of paper tissues. The black ink dripping down steadily from Gerard's nose still hasn't slowed down by the time he looks back up, offering the box.

"Her- grab one. Jesus, what happened?"

"I-" Gerard opens his eyes again, and one of them has popped a blood vessel, it seems, the black startling against the white and blue as he reaches to pull a tissue free. "The Eye didn't like that too much."

"It didn't like what specifically?"

Gerard gives him a dubious look. "I don't-"

"Oh, no. You have to tell me now." Martin scowls as fiercely as he can, ignoring the heat on his face when Gerard raises an eyebrow.

"Excuse me? I have to?"

"Of course you do! You can't just barge in here and- and expect me to give you all I know and then not tell me anything!"

"You continue to not be what I expected, Martin," Gerard says in a flat, annoyed tone. Good. "It's got something to do with the marks. He's- he has twelve of them already."

"That's- wow. That's a lot of them." Martin blinks. He's aware -oh, he is so aware- of Jon's brushes with the entities, but it never occurred to him to actually sit down and figure which he hasn't encountered yet. It never felt important, for some reason. Peter's voice echoes in his mind. You should be careful with that. Could be dangerous.

"And he's getting them in the weirdest ways too, like-"

"Is there a normal way to be marked by a fear god?" Martin interrupts, only to be pinned down by Gerard's unimpressed stare. He snorts. "Sorry, sorry. You were saying?"

"Well, yes. I was there when he Knew about the bullet in Melanie's leg. It was a tidbit from the Eye. And then- why did that Stranger bloke bring the coffin here?" Gerard frowns, and ink starts running down from his other nostril as well. "Ah, fuck."

"Yes, maybe- we should stop for now." Martin gives the box of tissues another push. "I really don't want to go looking for Jon because you bled out in my office."

"Would be hard to explain, huh?" Gerard tears a handful of tissues out, before climbing to his feet. "We'll listen to the tape. I'll-"

"Wait- we?"

"I'm not going to lie to him," Gerard shrugs. "Besides, it will make him... not happy, but at least he'll have news of you."

"Very considerate," Martin says dryly. It's an abrupt reminder that they might be doing this out of love for the same man, but they're not friends. Still, Jon deserves nice things, even if Martin can't be the one to give them to him. "What?" He asks, when he zones back in and finds Gerard still looking at him thoughtfully.

"He really does care. Lukas knows how to come at you; don't let him." Gerard opens the door, halfway out already before he pokes his head back in. "Don't call the Lonely back in yet, give yourself a break, will you?"

He's gone before Martin can answer, and he sighs. This is getting so much more difficult than he thought it would be.

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

"-statement ends." Jon clicks the recorder off and places it on his improvised desk, before turning to look at Daisy. "The Flesh continues to be... puzzling, to say the least."

"Nasty," Daisy agrees without looking away from her phone. The tape recorder slides a little on his stomach when she shifts to make her head more comfortable on Jon's thigh. "Are vampires from the Flesh?"

Jon leans back, resting his head against the wall as the Knowledge starts pressing against his mind. "Yes. Bit of the Hunt too. And a little Stranger. They're quite a mess." He shifts too, the hardwood floor of his office punishing on his tailbone.

"Want to switch?" Daisy asks, already halfway through sitting up.

"I'm alright." Jon slides down instead. "It's almost time to leave anyways, Gerry will be here soon."

"I met him the other day. He seems nice." Daisy lays back next to him. Jon slides his hand under her forearm, just to have an additional point of contact, and she tangles their fingers together.

"He is," Jon says quietly. Daisy, who is not aligned with the Beholding but whose stare can still make you squirm, looks at him out the corner of her eye.

"What's up with that?" She asks after so long has gone by that Jon is starting to think he's safe. He lets out an exhalation that hopefully doesn't sound as exhausted as he is with this whole matter.

Jon is, regardless of what Tim -or Georgie, or even Gerry himself- used to say, not completely hopeless at reading people. Only mostly. He's not entirely blind as to how the mood has shifted in his interactions with the man in question.

Gerry has ways been generous with his touch, a heavy hand on Jon's shoulder, around his wrist, on top of his head, but recently there's been the slightest moment of hesitation just before making contact, and Jon finds himself dreading it every time, without really knowing what outcome he fears more.

It definitely doesn't help that Jon is far too aware that no matter what Gerry may or may not feel, he did not choose to be here willingly, that even if he for some reason enjoys Jon's company, he's as much a prisoner to him as Jon himself is to the Eye.

"Nothing." Jon says, then adds sullenly. "I don't know."

Daisy squeezes his hand. "Martin?"

"I don't know." Jon turns his head away to avoid Daisy's gaze. "I- Daisy, I think there's bigger things to worry about."

"It's good to- I'm trying to think of the little things too." Daisy shrugs. "It feels like having a purpose."

Jon purses his lips. Sure, having a purpose is good and all until said purposes are self-sacrificing to a fear entity to keep you safe or behaving in an entirely too confusing manner.

"How's Basira?" He hasn't spoken much to her since that day after the statement. Jon gets the feeling she doesn't want to give him another chance to voice those thoughts she doesn't pride herself on.

Daisy sighs. "She's- it's okay. We're together, so it's fine. I just-" her voice falters a little, and Jon turns back to face her, squeezes her hand in reassurance. "I know I'm not what she needed."

Jon doesn't do her the disservice of trying to offer advice; the nuances of their relationship are something he doesn't want to intrude on. Instead, he tugs softly on her hand.

"I think we have time for an episode or two, if you're up for it."

Daisy's chapped lips twitch with humor. "I thought you didn't like it."

Jon snorts; no need for an Eye membership to see that, then. "It's- charmingly simple, I suppose."

"You don't get to back out," she says, lifting Jon's hand in hers to tap at her phone.

"Fine. But I will comment on it." Jon mock-scowls as the opening notes of The Archers' intro start playing.

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

"Want some coffee?" Gerry asks as he locks the door to the flat behind him.

"That sounds nice," Jon mutters. His voice is distracted and somewhat annoyed, and Gerry turns to see him struggling with the very last button of his coat. The burned hand must be aching more than usual, because he's not even trying to use it. "Uh- could you-"

"On it," Gerry nudges Jon's hand away gently, before easily sliding the button through the hole. "You're... good." Jon's large, dark eyes are glued to him when he looks up, awfully closer than he expected.

"Yes, I- thank you." After a moment's hesitation Jon's hands slide under his again to grab at the coat's lapels, and he steps away as he shrugs it off.

Gerry sighs, taking his own jacket off. This tension is ridiculous, he thinks as he watches Jon make a beeline for his bedroom. It's not- Gerry's far too aware of the situation with Martin. The tape he's carried around in his jacket for the past two days can attest to that, so no, he's not planning on making a move on Jon without at least a conversation. But he can't- it's not like he can just pretend he doesn't want Jon. Not after the Buried, not after thinking he lost him, and all the revelations that stemmed from that.

And speaking of the tape...

He hasn't brought himself around to listening to it, the hard corners digging at his ribs where his heart should be. Gerry's not so blind as to not realize this is selfishness on his part, a futile attempt to keep up this false normalcy they have found for themselves.

It's not fair for Jon, after Gerry made him promise to not keep secrets, but most of all it's not fair to Martin, who Gerry has very much decided he misjudged.

"We should- there's something I have for us. That we should listen to," he says once he goes back to the living room. He hands Jon -who has already changed into night clothes and is balled up at one end of the sofa- the two steaming mugs. "Here. I'll be right back."

Jon's eyes narrow in suspicion when Gerry comes back with the tape recorder. "What is that?" Gerry sits next to him on the sofa, stalling for time. "Gerry..."

With the kind of relationship he has with Jon, there's probably not a good way or time of saying 'I really like the way you say my name', but considering the news he's about to give, Gerry's willing to bet this would be one of the worst.

"I spoke to Martin." He says hurriedly, instead.

"You what?" Jon's eyes go wide, and Gerry lifts a hand in an appeasing motion.

"Yes, when- I went to look for him when you went into the Buried."

"I- why would you do that?!" Jon asks, his voice strained.

"Let me see, because I found out you'd fatally misunderstood the concept of anchors, and I thought he might have a better chance at getting you back than a rib." Gerry finds himself growing more agitated as he speaks, the light compulsion bringing forth more than just words. "A rib. Jon what were you think-"

"You said you'd stop bringing that up," Jon cuts him sullenly, his brow furrowed as he straightens up to shove a finger into Gerry's chest. "You said a man used quiche as his anchor!"

"It was not about the quiche, I thought you'd understood that!" Gerry clamps a hand down on Jon's to yank it away from his torso as he leans forward. "How was I supposed to know- a rib!"

"Well-" Jon snaps angrily, inches from Gerry's face. "Next time-"

"Next- there is not going to be a next time, Jon! You're not going into any more entities without me," Gerry blurts out. Jon's face goes carefully blank, and they stay there for a moment, breathing heavily in agitation. "Jon-"

"What- the tape." Jon sits back, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping an arm around them. "What's in it?"

Gerry groans, sitting back as well. Stupid.

"It's... let's just listen to it," he says before pressing the play button.

"Right. Martin Blackwood, archi- assistant to Peter Lukas, head of the Magnus Institute."

Jon grows more and more stiff with each passing second, and Gerry purses his lips in thought. This is probably the most Jon has heard of Martin in months, and the content could hardly be worse.

"Hey, I..." Gerry sighs. Jon doesn't look at him, and Gerry notices with a start that his eyes are starting to glow a faint green. More information to the Archive, then, whether Jon wants the knowledge or not.

He reaches over to lay a comforting arm across Jon's shoulders, pulling him lightly towards him, and Jon -surprisingly, terrifyingly- comes. It doesn't make Martin's words any less dreadful, but it does make it easier to listen to, knowing they're not alone.

"What- what happened after?" Jon asks after the tape clicks to an end. Gerry didn't miss how his posture against him grew stiff again at the subtle abuse Lukas flung to Martin after the statement. He'd known that was a possibility, but he'd also known Jon wouldn't let him stop the tape before it was over.

"I waited until Lukas left, locked us into his office and pissed him off until he was more human." Gerry shrugs. "Then we talked."

"Please don't antagonize Martin," Jon mutters softly, running his pointer finger over the edge of the tape in a gesture that seems almost intimate, and that Gerry very much doubts is meant for the device.

"All interaction helps, when he's like this. Especially if it turns out he wants to engage back, and trust me, he wanted to argue with me."

"That's because you are irritating," Jon huffs, and Gerry snorts a little.

"Beholding hasn't told you where it hid the return receipt?"

Jon's hand slaps softly against Gerry's chest. "What else?"

"Not much. After- I reminded him that you care about him. When he was more himself," Gerry adds, giving Jon's shoulders a light squeeze. "He even listened, I think." Jon frowns, quiet and contemplative for a moment that stretches for entirely too long. "Does it help? To know he's doing this for a reason?" Gerry asks

'Does it help to know you're loved?' he doesn't add.

Jon sighs.

"Somewhat. I just- leaving my personal- what are we going to do about this?" Jon asks. "This new- we have our hands full with the regular ones already, but a new one?"

"Is the Eye telling you something about it?" Gerry watches his face carefully, but his eyes are already back to their usual, comforting dark hue, and Jon shakes his head.

"Suspiciously quiet, if you ask me." Jon looks up at him, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Does it ever tell you anything?"

Gerry thinks of the marks all over Jon's soul, and the screeching static that came from trying to Know about them.

"Sometimes. I try to pay more attention to what it doesn't want to tell me."

"And what is that?"

"There's something about your marks," Gerry says slowly, trying to pinpoint the exact piece of information that the Watcher doesn't want him to focus on. "I think there's a reason you're getting- oh, there we go."

"Wh- Gerry!" Jon springs from the sofa, leaving Gerry's side uncomfortably empty as he darts into the bathroom. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back to keep the ink flowing from his nose from making a bigger mess. Done with Eye business for the night, it seems.

"It doesn't hurt," Gerry shrugs after Jon comes back with a handful of bunched up toilet paper. "You're a cheapskate, Martin had tissues."

"You're ridiculous," Jon huffs, pressing the paper carefully against Gerry's face. "Should I- I'll get something to read, that'll fix it. Hold this."

"Nah." Gerry makes no move to take over holding the toilet paper under his nose, cracking an eye open instead to find Jon hovering over him with concern clear on his face. "Just talk to me. I like it better."

"I-" Jon's cheeks go a few shades darker, and Gerry feels his mouth twitch into a smile. "Uh- alright. What- Gerry, I'm really bad at small talk."

"Then don't do small talk," Gerry shrugs. "Tell me... oh, tell me about when you broke into Getrude's flat."

"W- how did you know about that?!" Jon gapes, his face red with embarrassment. He could get used to this, Gerry thinks.

"Had a lot to listen to when you went to pick up Daisy. Supplemental Jon sounds like a fun fella," Gerry adds with a wink, and Jon sputters like an angry kettle.

He could definitely get used to this.

[dancing-with-dichotomies]

Fuck New Year’s Resolutions. Time for a new tradition.

This ain’t the year for promising to be better when it’s been hard enough to exist as is and we all fucking know it. Fuck making promises we know we have very little intentions of keeping anyways. I suggest something new and I’m gonna do it, feel free to do so too or not~

I’M CALLING IT: THE NEW YEAR’S NOT SORRY!!

AND YOU PROBABLY GUESSED IT, IT’S ALL THE SHIT I’M NOT SORRY FOR THIS OR PROBABLY ANY OTHER GODDAMN YEAR!!

TO START OFF? I AM NOT SORRY FOR BEING DISABLED!! I AM NOT SORRY FOR BEING PHYSICALLY FUCKING DISABLED AND I’M NOT SORRY FOR ANY MENTAL CHALLENGES I MAY ALSO HAVE BECAUSE OF MY PHYSICAL CHALLENGES BUT THAT DOES -NOT- MEAN I’M DUMB, I’M SMARTER OR AT LEAST MORE COMPASSIONATE THAN 75% OF THE MOFOS I’VE EVER ENCOUNTERED!!

NEXT? I AIN’T SORRY FOR DISOWNING/LETTING MYSELF BE DISOWNED BY ANY AND ALL SHITTY TRUMP-SUPPORTERS, AKA MODERN DAY NEO-NAZIS. FUCK  EM STRAIGHT TO HELL FOR THE HELL THEY PUT OTHERS THROUGH, NOT JUST ME.

NOT SORRY FOR EATING ANY DAMN THING I WANT AND ONLY DOING THE AMOUNTS OF WORK I WANT TO/THINK IS HEALTHY!! FUCK OFF DIET AND WORK-OUT ADS, YOU AIN’T GETTING SHIT FROM ME, NOT A CENT OR A DROP OF SWEAT!!

NOT SORRY FOR SUPPORTING RADFEMS, THEY’RE NOT PERFECT (esp the ones who ain’t even really radfems but say they are when they don’t know shit about it...) BUT THEY’RE RIGHT ABOUT MORE THAN NOT!!

lmfao NOT SORRY FOR SUGGESTING OH-SO HIGH N MIGHTY NEIL GAIMAN MIGHTA HAD A LIL HELP FROM BEING A PRIVILEGED WHITE MALE AS A PASSING JOKE WHEN HE THEN PROCEEDS TO DRAG MY LIL TINY FAN BLOG TO TASTE THE WRATH OF HIS LEGIONS OF RABID UNQUESTIONING FANS FOR IT LIKE A PETTY JERK EVEN THOUGH HE STRAIGHT UP ADMITS TO TURNING DOWN A JOB INTERVIEW HIS DADDY GOT FOR HIM, AS IF THAT’S SOMETHING MOST PEOPLE COULD EVEN DO, PROVING MY INITIAL POINT ANYWAYS...

NOT SORRY FOR NOT GIVING UP WHEN OTHERS OR EVEN MY OWN DAMN SELF TOLD ME TO. NOT SORRY FOR TAKING LONGER TO DO SOME THINGS BECAUSE MY OWN MUSCLES LITERALLY HOLD ME BACK.

NOT SORRY FOR TRULY SUPPORTING THE LGBTA, THE LESBIANS, THE GAY MEN, THE BISEXUALS, THE TRANSGENDERED AND THE ASEXUAL, ALL OF THEM, NO MORE AND NO LESS, NO MATTER WHAT OTHERS FROM THE LEFT OR RIGHT MIGHT THINK OF ME.

NOT SORRY FOR NOT BEING THAT GOOD AT THE ONLY THINGS I’M EVEN A LITTLE BIT GOOD AT BC YOU KNOW WHAT AT LEAST I’M NOT SOME GROSS DAMN PEDO FREAK! AS LONG AS THOSE STILL EXIST I’M OKAY BEING JUST OKAY!!

NOT SORRY FOR STILL LISTENING TO 70′S/80′S/90′S MUSIC IN 2020!! NOT SORRY FOR STILL LIKING A LOT OF THE SHOWS/MOVIES FROM BACK THEN BETTER THAN A LOTTA THE BULLSHIT NOWADAYS!

NOT SORRY FOR BEING BISEXUAL! NOT SORRY FOR CONSIDERING POLY BUT NEVER CHEATING!

NOT SORRY FOR USING MY LOVELY SUPERIOR DILDOS/VIBRATORS OVER THE YEARS INSTEAD OF GIVING A REAL DUDE’S DICK A CHANCE WHEN THE DUDE AROUND IT IS ALMOST ALWAYS AN IDIOT, A PSYCHO, OR MORE LIKELY BOTH.

NOT SORRY FOR NOT ALWAYS “GETTING IT”, WHATEVER IT IS, BC I AM FUCKING BONE-DEAD TIRED-ASS EXHAUSTED AND ALWAYS WILL BE!

NOT SORRY FOR ANYTHING ELSE I FORGOT I MAY NOT BE PERFECT BUT I’M BETTER THAN I’VE EVER BEEN SO I MUST BE DOING SOMETHING RIGHT GOD DAMN IT!!!

[creativeskullcreations]

Outside chapter 5: Nothing is that Simple

Chapter five is here y'all! Here we meet someone entirely new, and find that maybe Scout kept a few more secrets than even Stacy thought.

Also another peek into Stacy's past. Let's just say she's had a hell of a Christmas when she was twelve. >:3

Stacy typed up the back-up article, focusing on things that would turn would-be explorers away. So far it was bad structural integrity and recently used needles all over the place, with a dash of rabid rats crawling in the shadows. She'd have Will read it over later, make sure it was good enough to drive people away without attracting them. He was usually pretty good at that sort of thing, having helped her with it before.

Speaking of Will, she looked down when her phone dinged, a message flashing on the screen.

"am prking now be up soon with the goods"

"Good news Scout! Will's just parked and is on his way up. And he brought pizza!" She announced, getting up and heading into the kitchen area. "I'll go get some plates set up."

There wasn't an answer, and to be honest Stacy didn't expect one. She wondered, briefly, if maybe she was moving Scout along too fast, but dismissed the thought. 'It's only two more people, and then nobody else until next week. Surely she should be okay with that?'

She put the plates on the table, then peeked over at the couch, which was now completely empty save for the two large pillows. The corner of one pillow moved slightly, and Stacy had to suppress a snort. 'Great hiding spot there, Scout. Wouldn't ever know you were there.' She turned back to the table, placing two paper plates on opposite sides of the table, and a smaller plate beside where she would sit. As she got down a couple of cups, she heard a knock on the door. Setting the cups on the counter, she rushed to the door and unlocked it.

"Will!" She greeted, taking the bottle of Mountain Dew from him. She moved away quickly so he could enter, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Hey babe." He put the pizza box on the table between the plates, then turned to look at her, doing a double take. "What the hell happened to your mouth?"

"Long story." Stacy told him. "I'll tell you all about it after you meet Scout. Wait a second while I go get her." She went over to the couch and moved one of the pillows to see Scout ducked down, glaring up at her.

"I am not coming out!" She hissed out, trying to squeeze in behind the other pillow. "You can't fucking make me!"

"Come on, you'll like Will." Stacy insisted quietly. "He's like Sammy, but, y'know, cooler."

The Puppet just shook her head, drawing back further into the little fabric cave she'd made. Stacy simply moved the pillow and picked her up, ignoring her struggling as she brought her over to her boyfriend.

"This is Scout!" She announced, holding her out to Will. Scout stayed limp in her hands, letting her head loll to the side and keeping a blank stare on her face. Stacy felt her smile fall, but was unsure of what to do. Will leaned in, examining the Puppet.

"Ew." He said. "It's a gross, old puppet." Stacy frowned and opened her mouth, but was cut off by Scout suddenly snapping upright.

"Fucking excuse you?!" She yelled. Stacy flinched at the tone. The last time she sounded that angry had been when she'd threatened to kill her.

"OH FUCK!" He drew back, arms up like she would try and jump at his face. "It's a haunted gross old puppet!"

Scout made an offended noise, and Stacy quickly pulled her back. "Don't be rude, Will! She just hasn't had a bath yet." She looked away, unsure of what else to say. 'Should I tell her off, too?'

Will glanced from Puppet to Host, an increasingly worried look on his face. "I have to talk to you. In private. Right now." He then turned and went straight to the bedroom, not even waiting for an answer.

"Okay!" She put Scout down on the table, then turned and followed Will into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, and was immediately grabbed by the shoulders.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Will whisper-shouted. "Don't you remember what happened last time?!"

"Scout's not like... that." She told him, knocking his hands away. She crossed her arms and tried to sound firm. "She doesn't need someone to feed her or brush her or coddle her. And there isn't some haunted toy hunting us down just because she's here."

"That's not the point!" He insisted, grabbing at his hair. "You've put yourself and everyone in this building in danger by bringing it here!"

"Her, Will. I think. She hasn't actually said one way or the other." Stacy shrugged, scratching at the side of her mouth and flinching when she brushed the wounds there. "And I already told you, it's not the same! This won't be like when we were kids, Will, trust me!"

"Y'know, I would love to. But then, you did this!"

"She's not even a Waygetter!" Stacy struggled to keep her voice low. 'No need for Scout to hear this. She wouldn't understand.' "I checked. She doesn't even know the company, so she's completely safe."

"It's a haunted Puppet you found in an abandoned building!"

"Ah..." That building had not been abandoned in any sense of the word. "She's not haunted."

"Possessed, then!" Will insisted, looking desperate.

"Also a no. She's her own person, as far as I can tell." She told him. Will picked up a pillow and yelled into it. Stacy waited patiently, not even reacting to the muffled sound. "How are you so calm about this?!" He asked when he finished, pillow still smooshed to his face.

She opened her mouth, then closed it with a shrug. "I dunno. It has been a few days, though. I think I've just had time to get used to it." He growled, finally moving the pillow and clutching it to his chest. "Look, I got everything that happened all written down. If you want, you can read through it. Because it is a pretty long story."

"Fine." He ground out, dropping the pillow back on the bed. "But I'm still pissed off at you for doing this. You should know better by now."

"Yeah. I know." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. He just glared at her, though she ignored it. "Now come on, let's go eat before the pizza gets cold and the soda gets warm." She led him out of the room, only for them to pause when they opened the door.

Scout was standing on the table, one large slice of pizza hanging out of her mouth as she stared, frozen, back at them. Stacy sighed. "At least use a plate." She went over and handed the Puppet the small paper plate. She let the slice drop onto it, the tip mashed beyond belief and sauce dripping out of her mouth. Will gave the sight a disgusted look(not that Stacy could blame him). He didn't say anything about it, however, and instead went to the computer and and sat down at it. He quickly clicked over to the proper document and scrolled up to the top. "Alright Stace, let's see what happened to you..."

'I guess her teeth are pretty different...' Meanwhile, Stacy was cutting Scout's pizza up, if only to keep her from making a mess of herself. 'And she doesn't have a lot of them. It's probably good that she's watching me do this so she can know how...' "Okay, this should be good for you to eat. Please try not to make a mess of my couch. It takes forever to get it clean..."

"Yeah yeah." Scout immediately shoved two pieces into her mouth and started her open-mouthed "chewing", reminding Stacy more than a little of the Cookie Monster. To keep from laughing, she plated up another slice and poured a glass of soda for Will, who was already deep into what her and Scout had written.

"Don't strain yourself, babe." She placed the plate and cup beside him. "Mmm..." He ignored her, but did pick up the pizza and started eating it. Seeing that that was all she was going to get out of him, Stacy turned back to the table, only to see Scout had gone back to her pillow cave, taking her pizza with her. With a sigh she sat at the table, not bothering to get herself a slice.

'This is wrong. We should all be sitting here. They should like each other why don't they like each other? Did I do something wrong?' She shook her head, running her hands through her hair. 'It's fine it'll be fine. They just need time. It's not you it's not youit'snotyouit'snOTYOU' She rubbed at her eyes and suppressed a sigh. 'I need more pills.'

She stood and went over to the counter, grabbing the bottle out of the medicine cabinet. She dumped the dose in her hand and dry swallowed, immediately regretting her decision as she choked on the pills. 'That never works, idiot!' She scolded herself as she got a bottle of water and chugged from it.

'This day is a disaster. Will's mad at me. Scout's probably mad at me.' Stacy sighed, dropping back into her chair and letting her head drop onto the table. 'Fuck my life with a cactus.'

'Fuckfuckfuckfuck! Scout do you even know what you've done to us?!' A Hand Puppet with peachy skin and dark blue pigtails raced though the halls. Close behind her was something that had once been a friend, but was now just another tool of her cruel masters.

Luckily, she had been through this particular section of the warehouse enough that she had long since memorized the route. Jump to the shelf, ceiling lamp, top of the door. Drop down and crawl through and into the bucket that hid the entrance to their hiding hole. Behind her she could hear flapping wings as her pursuer flew through the doorway, thankfully too late to spot where she'd gone. Still, she waited for a moment in the entrance to be sure.

"The eldest returns with news of outside. And, perhaps, of how much longer we must hide?" The Puppet turned at the voice, finding two other Hand Puppets crawling out of the tunnel. The one that had spoken had yellow skin and orange hair, while the other had blue skin and red hair.

"Forever, Stitch! We've gotta hide forever because Scout had to be selfish!" The other one spat out. She crossed her arms and glared at the dirty floor, looking like she could kick something if she only had the legs for it.

"Would you both be quiet! Hibird's outside! If he finds us, we're all dead!" The Puppet that had just entered hissed at the other two. She grabbed their arms and started pulling them deeper into the hole. "Come on! I actually do have news, and Bonzai should hear it too."

Together the three Puppets Jumped their way through the tiny tunnel, going a secret way known only to the five of them. Eventually, they came to a small, boarded up room that any human would find claustrophobic. What was once an old storage closet now served as a hidden base for the latest of Daisy's "children". As far as they could tell, no other Puppets knew of the place, and the entrance was too small for them to get into either way. Inside was one other Hand Puppet, one with orange skin and green hair.

"Girls!" He exclaimed, dropping down from the shelf he was on. "I thought you were all dead! I was just preparing my awesome plan to go avenge you!" He threw a few fake punches, which the first Puppet glared at, catching his cloth fists.

"Bonzai, you would do no such thing!" She insisted. "If something happens to us, you're supposed to stay in here until Daisy makes more!" "Calm down, Canon. I could totally take them if I wanted to." He huffed, pulling away.

"No, you can't! That's why we're in here!" Canon told him. "We have to stay hidden until Mortimer calls for us, you know that!"

"Do not fight, siblings dear. Hibird or another could be close and hear." Stitch told them. "Canon has news of what has happened. Tell us, has our youngest sister met her end?"

There was a pause as the blue haired Puppet looked around. "No. As far as I could find out, Scout's still alive." There was a collective sigh of relief from the other three, though it didn't last long as Canon continued. "But, she managed to get herself and her defective Host outside somehow. Riley's furious, madder than I've ever seen her. Even Rosco's hiding from her."

"The mutt? He never hides from anything." The red-headed Puppet said. "Much less the mad 'doctor'."

"Well, he is this time, Bit. But that's not the worst of it." She took a deep breath, preparing herself to say the next thing. "Mortimer's completely calm about this." "Mr. Handee himself has had no reaction? Would this not be an event to spur even him to action?" Stitch asked, concerned.

"You'd think, but no. Riley's madder than he is. He just sort of said... 'Yeah okay.' and left it at that." Canon suppressed a shudder. "I'm worried that he planned this somehow. And what his plans could mean for Scout. And the rest of us."

"I'm just mad that she found a way outside and didn't tell us." Bonzai said. "She knows I want to see the ocean and climb some rocks."

"Yeah! How could she leave us here like that?!" Bit asked angrily. "She knows we all want to see what's really out there!"

"Quiet, the both of you! We've no idea of what Scout really tried to do. If it was truly Mortimer's plan, she would have had no choice in when she ran." Stitch scolded, shoving herself between them. The other two looked away, in shame, though Bit kept her glare.

"And we still don't even know if it is a plan." Canon said. "For all we know, she got lucky, found a hole in the wall, and crawled out." She paused, checking to make sure the others were paying attention. "The best we can hope for at this point is that she doesn't come back, and that we can stay hidden until we find out what's really going on here."

"What?!" Her siblings looked shocked.

"Why should we hope for that?!" Bit questioned. "I want her to come home, and tell us about everything she saw out there!"

"Because if she does come back, Riley <i>will</i> to tear her apart to find out why she can't control her Hosts." Canon told them, struggling to keep her cool. "She'll destroy her so much, there'll be nothing left, and then do the same to the rest of us. She was on her last one anyways, and she failed harder than anyone else ever has. She not only couldn't control her Host, she managed to Wake it up."

A shocked silence was all the reply she got from that, her younger siblings just staring at her.

"Isn't that supposed to be impossible?" Bonzai asked finally, uncharacteristically quiet. "The spell Mortimer does... it's meant to be permanent."

"I don't know." Canon admitted. "Something might have gone wrong with the spell, or something went wrong with Scout. It doesn't matter, Riley intends to find out either way." Her gaze hardened. "Which is why all of us have to stay hidden. Find Daisy and cry, if we have to. Because without Scout, we're the next best thing Riley has to a way to figure out the answer."

She watched her younger siblings exchange fearful looks, even Bonzai looking afraid. 'Good.' She thought to herself. 'Whatever keeps them safe. Even if we have to go find Daisy again, I won't let anyone else get hurt because of this.

I can't.'

[kprciffdw]

Kim Possible: The Extremely Secret Files-Part 16

Ratchet and the rest of the group made their way to and arrived at the Planet Boldan. They landed themselves in a large, silver colored metropolis and jumped out of the ship. Kim: "Let's go find Mr. Fizzwidget."

They rushed off as fast as they could. As they made their way to the entrance to the city, they got themselves involved in a fight with the Thugs-4-Less goons. Kim: "Oh, great! More of those boneheads! What could they want from us, this time?" Ratchet: "I'm guessing whoever bought them off also has an agenda with us." Kim: "Well, then, let's see to it that they don't get anything that they need from us."

As they continued further into the city, they fought through more Thugs-4-Less goons. There seemed to be more and more of them coming as they progressed into the city while searching for Mr. Fizzwidget, with no end in sight of the barrage. Many of the Thugs stood in their way, but they were able to manage them, except for Ron who always ran away screaming at the sight of them. Ratchet: "I'm guessing he'll want a special order of those Nacos he keeps asking for." Kim: "Grande size. Absolutely."

They kept on their way, with the path becoming tougher for each step. They were eventually able to find someone that appeared to be Mr. Fizzwidget. Kim: "Look! There he is." Ratchet: "Let's get him."

However, when they got close enough towards him, they found that it wasn't him, but a robotic duplicate. Ratchet: "What the…? This isn't Mr. Fizzwidget!" Fizzwidget bot: "Would you like a free Protopet sample? Available today only…" Ron: "Aw, man! It's just a cheap, broken-down knock off!" Ratchet: "You can say that again." Thug Leader: "Freeze, knuckleheads!" Clank: "Oh, no!" Kim: "What!? You again!?" Thug Leader: "You've got that right, missy redhead! Yous alls are under arrest for attempting to bump off Mr. Fizzwidget!" Ron: "You're kidding, right? This isn't…" Thug Leader: "Save it, blondie boy! You're not fooling anyone!" Kim: "Brainless as always." Thug Leader: "Good thing a loyal employee of Megacorp informs me of your scheme."

Stepping out from behind the Thug Leader was Dr. Drakken. He had an evil grin displayed on his face very vividly. Drakken: "Oh, quite right, my good man." Ratchet: "Drakken!" Ron: "You bought off these Thugs-4-Less guys from that thief girl?" Drakken: "That's right. Megacorp has given me special ties to their corporation so I have been doing some work on the side for them along with my…other obligations." Kim: "Don't think for a minute that you will succeed, Drakken! We're going to stop you!" Thug Leader: "Oh, I wouldn't count on that, missy redhead. All of yous will be sent to our new prison. Check this out."

He pulled out a monitor. Displayed on it was a preview of the new Thugs-4-Less prison and a few things that it provided. Thug Leader: "(laugh) So, what did you guys think of that?" Ron: "Well, that didn't seem so bad. In fact, it sounded really nice." Drakken: "Did I forget to mention that it's full of rabid monkeys and I will destroy Bueno Nacho if you and your friends try to escape?"

Within a split second, Ron went from calm to screaming and running all over the place. Ratchet: "Uh…well…this is awkward." Thug Leader: "You guys, take the girl over to the blue guy. These other 3 are going separate."

A few of the Thugs grabbed Kim and pulled her over to Drakken. Kim: "Ratchet!" Ratchet: "I'll find you, Kimberly. Just don't worry. I will…"

Shortly afterwards, they were flown to the Thugs-4-Less prison on the Planet Aranos. Ratchet was placed in a cell with Clank. Kim and Ron were nowhere to be found. Ratchet lied down on a mattress, then sat up as Clank made a lot of noises. Ratchet: "Hey, keep it down, will ya…!?" Clank: "Sorry, I did not mean to annoy you." Ratchet: "Uh! No, no, you weren't. I…I'm just worried about Kimberly. Who knows what horrible things Drakken could be doing to her right now?" Clank: "Yes, I understand your plight. Just to let you know, I have analyzed our surroundings and I am afraid that there is absolutely no means of escape."

Just then, a female bot broke right through a nearby air vent. Clank: "Except that."

She shushed them then slipped back out. Ratchet: "Someone's got a girlfriend. (giggle)" Clank: "I will be right back." Ratchet: "Don't, uh, stop for anything along the way."

Clank glanced at him in an annoyed manner then walked out.

He made his way through the secluded interiors of the facility. With the help of a few robot companions of his own, he was able to navigate through the small corridors. There were many obstacles in the way, including several guard bots, but it wasn't anything that he and his robot brigade couldn't handle.

He fought his way through chamber after chamber, corridor after corridor until he was able to find a switch and pressed it. Computer voice: "Power failure on decks 4 through 14." Clank: "Hopefully that should be help us out with our situation."

Meanwhile, back where Ratchet was, his cell was deactivated. Computer voice: "Emergency generators online." Ratchet: "Way to go, Clank! Now to find Kimberly."

He rushed out as fast as he possibly could. As he made his way through the corridors of the facility, he fought against many robot guards; a lot of which went berserk from the power failure caused by Clank. Everywhere he looked, robots came at him without hesitation, but he was able to manage and fight through all of them. He made his way to another deck on the prison ship.

Elsewhere, Clank continued through the small corridors of the ship. He was aided by more robot companions that followed his every command. There were a few tough obstacles that kept getting in his way, but he was able to handle them all, with the help of his robot companions, of course. Thankfully, the trek was brief so it didn't take him long to get through. He was eventually able to make his way towards the hanger bay. Clank: "Alright, now I just need to wait here for Ratchet. Hopefully, he is able to find Miss Possible and Ron."

Meanwhile, Ratchet arrived on another deck of the ship. There, he continued fighting his way through more robots, but this time, none of them were going berserk. Ratchet: "Hm, seems as though these robots haven't been affected by that power failure that Clank caused. Perhaps it's because this is one of the decks that didn't experience the power failure at all. I have to keep searching for Kimberly."

He kept rushing through the corridors. He was able to arrive in an area where he could hear voices. Kim: "You so won't get away with this, Drakken." Drakken: "Oh, but I will this time. With those Thug-4-Less goons at my command, my plans will be a sure-fire win and you will witness my greatest triumph." Kim: "Oh, please, those Thugs-4-Less idiots will not guarantee you anything other than a less than average dependency that is probably much less promising than their bonehead leader's IQ points." Ratchet: "Kimberly."

He rushed over towards where the voices were coming from. Drakken: "Well, regardless, my plans will succeed and the Impossible Space Station of the Future will ensure my victory!"

Ratchet managed to find Drakken and Shego in a small room with Kim, who was hooked up to a restraining machine. Kim: "Yeah, sure, I bet you're not even aware of what is contained within that space station you stole." Shego: "Oh, we already know that the ISSF consists partially of alien technology. I've had my suspicions considering that no ordinary Earth spacecraft could reach another galaxy within 2 hours or even at all, for that matter." Drakken: "There are many more secrets that I have yet to discover, but once I unlock them, everyone back on Earth will tremble before the awesome might of Dr. Drakken!" Kim: "Oh? And how do you suppose you'll be able to do that?"

While Kim was still talking to Drakken and Shego, Ratchet crept around nearby. Drakken: "Like I told you before, I have established a special connection with Megacorp. The CEO of the company is providing me with the resources and know-how to unlock the ISSF's secrets, in exchange for the services that I am willing to provide for him and his company." Ratchet: "So Mr. Fizzwidget is working with Dr. Drakken. Just when I thought that geezer couldn't get any worse." Drakken: "And that cat alien boyfriend of yours was far too clueless and naïve to even realize that Mr. Fizzwidget was merely using him to undo one minor set-back on his own schemes and then planned to dispose of him when he was no longer needed."

Ratchet growled angrily. Kim: "We already know that Mr. Fizzwidget is planning to intentionally set off a terrible disaster, but why would he want to do that?" Drakken: "Eh, I don't know, but I don't really care. What happens in this galaxy is none of my concerns. I only care about taking over the Earth."

At that moment, they heard a blast. They looked over towards the nearby door and noticed Ratchet who was greatly angry. Kim: "Ratchet!" Drakken: "What?! How did you get all the way here?!" Ratchet: "I walked! How else did I get here?" Drakken: "That's not what I meant, what I meant was…!" Shego: "He means to ask you how you got out of your cage, but that doesn't matter because I'm going to throw you back in one way or another." Ratchet: "You don't scare me one bit, Shego!"

Ratchet made an advance towards Kim, but Shego jumped in his way. Still greatly angered, he managed to fight her and tossed her directly into a switch that deactivated the shackles holding Kim, releasing her. Kim: "Ratchet!"

She ran towards him at great speed. Ratchet: "Kimberly!"

They embraced each other and had their moment as they reunited. Kim: "You came!" Ratchet: "I told you I would find you. I'm just hoping you didn't expect me here sooner."

She shook her head. Kim: "Forget that. I'm just glad you came at all."

Ratchet smiled. Soon enough, they both noticed Drakken and Shego rushing out. Ratchet: "They're getting away!" Kim: "Don't worry about them, we'll catch up to them later and we will, considering Drakken stole the container with the shuttle pieces we have managed to collect. For now, we just need to look for Ron." Ratchet: "But where could he be? We'll need to search this entire prison ship to find him." Ron: "AAAHHHH! MONKEYS!" Ratchet: "Or we could just follow the sounds of his screaming." Kim: "Yeah, I think that would be a lot more helpful."

They soon ran off.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Baby’s First Revenge Part Seven (Final)

Here it is, the last part to the Baby’s First Revenge story! I hope you guys enjoy it! 

links to Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 can be found here. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be here for you.” Charlotte grabbed Brandon’s hand in her own, smiling gently

“AND CUT! That’s a wrap!” Stepping closer, the director’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “That was fantastic, guys! Great job!”

Everyone in the cast and crew broke out in cheers, hugging and high-fiving each other as it spread that they had successfully filmed the last scene.

Charlotte and Brandon sighed with relief, their hands letting go as they grinned.

“Not too bad, Edith.” The boy chuckled. “Given a few more years of experience, you might even be as good of an actor as me one day.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Be still my beating heart.” Standing up, she started to walk away, looking for her parents.

“Hey, wait!” Brandon reached out, his hand hesitating and hanging in the air as if he had wanted to grab her arm to stop her, but changed his mind. Despite the pause, she heard him and stopped, staring at him with a curious expression.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… “ He swallowed uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “You really nailed this… I mean… It’s not even like you are Edith. It’s more like… Edith is like you.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. I mean, the character in the book was great, but you seem to make her a person, a real person with hopes and dreams. Until it seems like she’s more based off of you then you off of her.”

Charlotte smiled. “Maybe she is based off of me.”

“Funny. The book would have just been published around the time you were born.”

“You never know.”

“I guess, I just wish…” Brandon frowned, growing more uncomfortable. Looking frustrated at his pauses, Charlotte let out a long sigh.

“No offense, but get to the point.”

“Sorry. This is just going sound really stupid.” His face turned slightly red as he spoke. “I just wish that I could have done the same, and made the character Jordan real. I wish we could have been friends in real life like that, growing up together, looking out for each other, protecting each other.”

The smile slipped from Charlotte’s face, leaving a blank expression. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” A slightly distressed expression took the place of his previous embarrassed one. “I promised not to lie to you anymore, remember?”

“You want truth?” Charlotte’s voice was cold, almost unrecognizable. “Let me tell you the truth.”

Her hand reached out and grabbed the boy’s collar, pulling him closer.

“This story was based on true people. A little boy and girl. Growing up together, protecting each other. The ideal friendship you’re imagining.” She was whispering now, her eyes shining with a pain she couldn’t hide. “But that was a lie. She was the only one getting hurt to protect him, the only one who was trusting, helping, all while expecting nothing in return. The boy just took everything, giving nothing. And do you want to know what happened when he had taken all he could, and she was no longer useful?”

“… What?” Brandon’s voice cracked on the word. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear the rest of the story that was making tears form in his friend’s eyes. But he knew she needed to say it.

“He killed her.” A single tear tracked down her cheek, but she ignored it, never looking away from the boy’s frightened gaze. “He murdered her, and watched her die, a smile on his face.”

Charlotte released her grip on Brandon’s shirt, and stepped back.

“How do you know… ?” He trailed off, unsure of how to ask the question, afraid of the answer.

Charlotte walked off without a word.

 “Great job, Sweetie!” Charlotte’s parents met up with her outside her dressing room. Her father swept her up into a big hug, a large smile on his face. “We’re so proud of you!”

“Thanks!” Charlotte hugged them both, enjoying the feeling of being with family. The conversation with Brandon just then had brought up the feelings of despair and regret from her previous life, and time with her parents was just what she needed to move past that.

“The director told us about the party to celebrate finishing filming tonight.” Her mom chimed in. “Do you want to go?”

Charlotte frowned. “That’s not something you typically invite kids to though, right?”

“Well, he said you would be more interested in the early half of the party, where there will be good food and a chance for everyone to tell you how wonderful you did. We can leave before your bedtime.”

Charlotte thought it over. “I guess that would be fine, as long as I don’t miss out on too much sleep.” She shrugged. “I need plenty of sleep if I’m going to grow up healthy.”

“…” Her parents passed a look between them and shook their heads.

“Remind me who the adult in this relationship is?”

Charlotte ignored her mother’s muttering, and looked up at her father, confused. “Wait, why are you off work today?”

Her parents had taken turns taking off of work to drive her to the studio, and today should have been her mother’s day.

“Well…” Her father looked slightly embarrassed. “I may have taken on a special… project at work.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “A project?”

“Tell her.” Her mother sighed.

“It’s not a big deal, just was sitting around with my coworkers, and happened to tell them about the terrible things the internet people had said about you…” He shrugged. “They were horrified, of course, and so we came up with a group project.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Your father and his coworkers have turned into a rabid dedicated PR team on the internet, promoting your movie and going after anyone spreading rumors about you. It’s basically a fan club.” Rolling her eyes, her mother continued. “Imagine my shock when I stopped by his workplace only to see a group of middle-aged men and women waving banners with your name on them, hunched over computer screens, celebrating catching Internet trolls.”

“…”

“Don’t worry sweetie.” Her father tapped a silver pin on his chest with a proud expression. “I’m the club president.”

“That… was not what I was worried about.”

“It’s okay.” Her mother whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “He’s just all fired up after those reporters cornered you in your dressing room the other day. He and his friends at work should calm down shortly.”

“What if…”

“Otherwise I’ll take care of it.” Her tone was final.

“Dad…” She smiled, looking up at the worried parent hovering over her. “You’re an idiot.”

“…”

“I love you!” She threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too.” He hugged her back. 

For the second time that day Charlotte cried.

This time… they were tears of relief. 

This life, this new life. It isn’t wasted. I have a family.

 The party was in full swing by the time Charlotte and her family arrived.

“And here’s our star!” Mark Tuttle grinned and pointed at their entrance, leading everyone in a round of applause. Charlotte smiled at the director, waving her hand slightly until the attention turned away from her. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she was about to move towards the table with the drinks and appetizers on it, when she was stopped by Lacy.

“Charlotte!” The young woman shook her hand enthusiastically. “I was looking for you!”

Shaking her head slightly, Charlotte chuckled, taking her hand back. “Well you found me.”

“I wanted to talk to you! I’m the casting director for a new project, one that requires some talented child actors.”

Charlotte stepped back, shocked. “I’m not…”

“It’s obviously a very different project than ‘Searching for Silence.’ Less action and drama more of a fantasy adventure. But given your talents I know you could bring the film to a whole new level.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding something.” Charlotte held up her hand. “I was good in this movie because I fit the role well. That doesn’t make me a professional actress.”

“Really?” Lacy’s grin widened. “A five year old…”

“Five and three quarters.”

“…Almost six year old who can portray complicated emotions at the drop of a hat, including hatred, guilt, anger and grief?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re a freaking goldmine to any director.”

“I…”

“Just think about it.” Lacy patted her back. “Plus, you’d get to work with your friend.”

“Friend?”

“Brandon is being considered for one of the main roles as well! Wouldn’t that be great?!”

Charlottes gaze drifted over to the corner of the room, where Brandon was standing next to Peter, talking. Neither of them had a pleasant expression.

“Yeah…” her voice trailed off as a new unease took root in her chest. “Great.”

Brandon hadn’t planned on confronting Peter at this party.

He had just been standing nearby, pouring himself a cup of punch, when he heard the author complaining loudly.

“I know I wrote it, but I wish I had given the story a different ending.”

He gulped down the drink in his hand, slamming the cup on a nearby table with a frustrated expression. “What a stupid scene. Jordan and Edith getting along and having a happy ending!”

Brandon thought about the words Charlotte had said earlier, the pain in her eyes as she talked about how the boy Jordan had been based off of had murdered his friend. A sense of disgust took over him and he stepped closer before he had realized it.

“And how would you end it instead?” He interrupted, his sarcastic tone at odds with his innocent face. “Have Jordan betray the one person who has sacrificed everything to protect him? Now that’s a stupid ending!”

Peter’s face turned pale. “No one would want to live in the shadow of a girl like that forever. Perfect at everything she does. Mature, even as a child.” He snorted. “Anyone would snap eventually.”

Brandon thought about Charlotte. She was smart, talented, and much more mature than she should be for her age. He had always been used to being the center of attention, but whenever she was around, she outshined him. Should he resent her? Be jealous? 

But then Brandon laughed. “No one is perfect, even if they seem like it. 

And she wasn’t. 

She was awkward at making friends, trying to talk about the weather and political climate with other five year olds. She tried to solve every problem by threatening it, and if that didn’t work by beating it up. She always jumped ahead without thought, without fear, never even considering the possibility of failure.

She wasn’t perfect.

“So, doesn’t change the fact that Jordan would be better off without Edith.” Peter argued back, a strange light in his eyes.

Brandon rolled his eyes. “Of course, who would want a dedicated friend who cares for you and supports you in everything you do?”

“Supports you in living in her shadow!”

“WHO CARES?!” Brandon threw up his hands. “Even if you’re in her shadow, at least you’re by her side! And if she’s stronger, smarter and faster… well I’ll just find the things that I can do, and help her the best I can. Because that’s what friends do!! They don’t worry about who’s better! They become better together!”

Peter’s expression grew cold. “You’re just a child.”

“And you’re an idiot.”

Brandon stomped away, not paying any attention to the threatening glare at his back.

“Here.” Brandon put a cup of punch on the table before Charlotte, who had been resting on the couch, lost in her thoughts. Her eyes flickered quickly towards him and then towards the drink on the table.

“What’s that?”

“It’s punch.”

“Why did you put it there?”

“So you can drink it?” Brandon shook his head. “And they told me you were smart.”

“Umm… thanks.” She reached out to grab the glass. “What were you talking to the author about?”

“Just stupid stuff.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte stiffened, a memory from her previous life overwhelming her.

“Why are you grinning so much?” Charlotte asked, sitting down with a tired expression.

“Just stupid stuff.” Peter kept smiling, setting a coffee cup in front of her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Ugh. Thanks.” She took a sip of the coffee, making a face. “This tastes terrible! What did you do, make it with your feet?”

Peter scowled. “Sorry I’m not a world class barista.”

“I forgive you.” She chuckled, taking another sip with a wince. “If I wasn’t so tired and needed the caffeine…”

“You should get some rest. You’ve been working too hard.” The right words were coming out of Peter’s mouth, but something seemed… off. 

Charlotte shook herself slightly, trying to focus on his question. “I can’t go to sleep yet. I need to check and see if there’s been a response from the publishers.” She grinned. “This book I wrote is pretty great, I think someone will buy it.”

“…” Peter stared at her silently. A headache started pounding at her temples. She took another drink of coffee, setting it down half-finished to rub her temples.

“What did you do today?”

He showed her a letter in his hand. Her head hurt worse, she had to struggle to read it.

It was a publishing offer.

Charlotte would have jumped up and cheered, thrilled to see a reward for all the late nights, all the hard work she had done. She would have given Peter a hug, thanking him for the terrible coffee again and the surprise of revealing the letter.

She would have…

There was just one problem.

The name on the letter was not hers.

Peter McAllen.

“You… you stole my book?” It was hard to talk, her lips were slightly numb.

Peter looked defensive.

“It wasn’t my fault!”

And so started the last argument she would ever have with him. The one that ended with her dying on the floor, while he looked on with a satisfied expression.

CRASH! The glass slipped through her fingers, splintering into multiple pieces as it hit the floor. Punch spilled out over her shoes, staining them red… 

“Charlotte, are you okay?”

She looked over at the boy who reminded her of Peter, her face curled in a snarl. “Leave me alone!” 

He stepped back, startled. He looked genuinely worried. Charlotte’s heart softened, and she was about to reach out and apologize, when her eyes caught on the broken glass at her feet.

Had she really been about to take a drink from a glass he had handed her? Was being poisoned once by someone she trusted not enough for her? Had she learned nothing?

Charlotte pushed past him, ignoring his hurt expression as she quickly found her parents. 

“Take me home.”

Without asking questions they bundled her up and took her out. As she was being whisked away, she saw Brandon’s face.

Pain. 

Confusion.

Fear.

Charlotte turned away, ignoring him, and let her father carry her out of the party.

Later that night, Charlotte sat on her bed, staring down at her hands. She felt slightly guilty at how she had left Brandon without a word, but it was hard to ignore the memories he sometimes invoked.

He’s not Peter. She told herself quietly, rocking in place. We’re friends.

Yes, but you thought Peter was your friend too, didn’t you, and look how that turned out. A awful voice in the back of her mind whispered back. Charlotte had no answer, and sat there silently, confused.

Tap, tap. A sound of something hitting her window.

Charlotte looked outside. There was a note taped to the window sill. Picking it up with trembling hands, she read the scrawl across the page, an all too familiar handwriting.

“I’ve taken your little friend. If you don’t want him to die then meet me at the secret base. Come alone.”

“Shit.” Charlotte whispered, the paper crumpling in her hand. “He knows.”

She always thought Peter might recognize her one day. They had grown up together, knew everything about each other. So many little signs, clues, only the fact that it seemed so impossible seemed to argue against him realizing the truth.

But he knew. 

Otherwise why else would he tell her to meet him at the “secret base”? It was their secret growing up, an abandoned shed in the middle of nowhere, where they used to hide during the worst times growing up.

Straightening out the paper, she read it again, her eyes staying on the words “little friend.” Her stomach sank even further.

“Brandon.” She was surprised at the pain in her voice. Charlotte looked around her room with a defeated expression. All over the walls were pictures. Pictures of her smiling with her parents. Playing, laughing… living a new life.

She could lose everything. All the wonderful things she had gained by being reborn. Her childhood, her family, her home.

But she couldn’t let him die.

Silently she opened her window further, crawling out and running into the night. She didn’t hesitate, she knew this location better even then this house she was currently growing up in. 

“Okay Peter.” She smiled , a humorless expression. “I’m coming home.”

“Charlotte.” His voice was the first thing she heard as she entered the shack.

“Peter.” She responded in kind, forcing herself not to react to the terrible seen in front of her. In the five years since she last saw this place, it hadn’t changed much. The sagging couching, the chipped tables. The barely functioning generator powering a small tv and a coffee maker. It looked exactly the same it had the day she died, in the very spot she was standing now.

Charlotte shivered, both from the cold draft and from fear. 

Peter stood in the back, his eyes fanatical, staring at her with a triumphant expression. He held a terrified Brandon in front of him, who was too scared too move. He also held a gun to the young boy’s head.

“Let him go.” She spoke calmly, not wanting to startle him. “You want me, not him.” 

“CHARLOTTE NO!” Brandon screamed out. “JUST RUN! I’LL BE OKAY!”

Peter started laughing, a disturbing sound that echoed through the cabin. Shaking his head slightly, he sighed, gesturing with the gun as he spoke.

“How cute. He’s actually trying to protect you. You of all people!” Peter snorted. “You and I both know you never needed anyone’s protection.”

“Let him go.”

“No.” He smiled. “He’s my insurance that you won’t do something stupid.”

“Seriously?” Charlotte spread her hands, sweating nervously as the gun swayed back and forth, keeping an aim on Brandon. “I’m five years old, how much damage could I do?”

His eyes narrowed. “Nice try. I might even believe you if you hadn’t shown off your skills with the stunt men. Besides, even if I hadn’t seen that… I know you’re perfectly capable of taking down me and anyone unlucky enough to go against you. I used to make money on you taking down guys twice your size in fights, remember?” 

“Charlotte, what’s going on?” Brandon’s eyes darted between the two of them. “What’s he talking about?”

“Yes, Charlotte, why don’t you tell your little friend that despite his desperate attempts to be honest with you, you’ve been lying to him all along.”

“Peter…” Charlotte’s voice held a warning tone, but he ignored her, continue to talk.

“That you’re not the little five year old Charlotte that he thinks you are.” He laughed.  “I can’t believe that you would actually play the part of the character based on yourself. ”

She watched carefully as he ranted, hoping for an opening.

“You’re the street trash Charlotte. The fighter Charlotte. The criminal Charlotte.”

“The Charlotte you murdered.” She whispered. “The Charlotte you poisoned when she trusted you.”

“MY CHARLOTTE!” His enraged scream filled the small cabin. “You deserved it! I did what I had to do!” 

“Wait!” Brandon’s eyes widened. “That story you told me today, the one about the boy who betrayed and murdered the girl… YOU’RE that girl?! That means that he…” He trailed off, looking up at the man holding a gun to his head. “He betrayed you after you had spent your life helping him out, protecting him?”

“Showing off! Making me feel worthless!” Peter snapped back, but Brandon wasn’t listening.

“Oh no…” He turned pale. “The drink today, did you think… Plus, when we first met, you called me Peter.” He shook his head, his eyes sad. “Do I remind you of him?!”

“At first.” Charlotte admitted quietly. “Not anymore.”

“That’s a relief, I just...”

“SHUT UP!” Looking obviously frustrated at being ignored, Peter dug his gun into the boy’s head. “We’re getting off topic!”

“Hey! You’re ruining this important bonding moment in our friendship!” Brandon argued.

“I am holding the gun!”

“Still!”

“What do you want, Peter?” Charlotte interrupted. “I’m assuming you didn’t call me out in the middle of the night to tell Brandon that I reincarnated.”

“You are a perverse existence. A curse on my life.” Peter hissed, putting more pressure on the weapon in his hand. “I took care of you! You were supposed to stay dead! But you’re here, taking over my project from MY book!”

“That you stole.”

“And making me look like an idiot again!” He sighed. “I won’t do it. You have to be gotten rid of.”

Charlotte smiled at him. “Good. Let go of the kid and let’s try to kill each other.”

“I’m not that stupid. There’s your answer.” He looked down at the table in between them, and Charlotte’s breath left in a rush as she saw what he was looking at:

A coffee cup.

“No.” Her voice was filled with pain. “Not again.”

“Again.” He grinned. “We’re going to repeat the past, but this time, you’re going to stay dead.”

“Wait! What?!!” Brandon looked down at the cup, panicked. “Is that poison?! You can’t do that! Run away!”

“Oh, you little fool.” Peter tightened his grip on the boy. “I know her better than anyone else alive. She’s nearly unbeatable, but she had two weaknesses: First she was too trusting.” He shrugged. “My betrayal took care of that, but she still has the second weakness: She needs to save everyone.”

“…” Charlotte stared silently at her former friend. 

“She has only known you for a short while, and she already can’t stand to let you get hurt. Not if she can save you.”

“NO!” Brandon started to scream, but Peter’s hand clamped down over his mouth.

“Now here’s the deal, Charlotte: You drink the poison, and I let the kid go. You don’t drink?” He tapped the gun against Brandon’s head. “Your friend dies.”

“You’ll never get away with that.” Her voice was flat, expressionless, her eyes never leaving the cup on the table. 

“Probably. But he will still be dead, and you will never be able to live with yourself. Almost worth not killing you.” 

“How do I know you’ll let him go?”

“You don’t.” His tone was cold. “But you absolutely know that if you don’t, he’ll die. It’s your only chance to save his life.”

“…” Charlotte reached out slowly, holding the cup between her hands. It was slightly warm, the weight unfamiliar to her. She hadn’t held a coffee cup since she had been reborn. Her head started to hurt, a phantom of a memory from a different life.

“Drink it.” Peter ordered, his eyes almost glowing in the dim light in the cabin. Brandon’s eyes were as wide as they could go, he desperately was trying to shake his head from side to side. Clearly he was trying to tell her to run, to save herself.

Charlotte smiled. She had definitely made a better friend in this life than her last. She looked down at the coffee, the bitter scent reminding her of her death, the anger, the frustration, the loneliness.

 I don’t want to die.

She had a home in this life. Parents who loved her. A friend who would sacrifice himself to save her. She wasn’t the same Charlotte who died helpless on this floor, betrayed and alone.

She was more.

“OUCH!” Peter’s hand flew up, blood splashing through the air. Brandon had bit the hand covering his mouth, his teeth tearing through skin. Peter recovered quickly, regaining his composure and grabbing Brandon again to aim the gun at his head. His lapse had only lasted the briefest moment.

But it was enough.

CRASH! 

The cup went flying through the air, striking Peter on the forehead as it left Charlotte’s hand at full speed. She lept forward, jumping on the table in front of him and kicking him in the chest, knocking him backwards. He tried to sit up again, but she had already grabbed the coffee mug, slamming it down on his throat. He choked falling back, his hands clutching his neck as he struggled to breathe. Charlotte knelt on his chest, her face grim, and reared backwards, her small fist clenched around the ceramic.

BAM

She broke his nose.

“That’s for kidnapping my friend.”

BAM

A tooth was knocked loose, flying through the air and rolling under a nearby chair.

“That’s for trying to poison me.”

BAM!

“And THAT’s for stealing my book and killing me in my last life.”

He was unconscious.

Charlotte found a rope in a chest nearby, and tied him up. She then began searching his pockets.

“What are you doing?”

She held up his cell phone. “Bingo.”  She dialed a number.

“Hello? Me and my friend were kidnapped.” Her voice on the phone was a frantic sob, but her face stayed calm. “We knocked him out, but I don’t know how much longer we’ll stay safe! Please send help!”

She paused, listening. 

“Yes, we know him, he’s working on the movie we’re in. His name is Peter McAllen.” She winked at Brandon. “He said I reminded him of a girl he knew growing up, and that he had stolen his book from her and poisoned her. He said because my name was Charlotte too that I was her reborn to curse him and wanted to kill me and my friend. Please send help! The address is…” She rattled off the address and then hung up, ignoring any attempts to keep her on the line.

Brandon shook his head. “You’re getting pretty good at this ‘acting’ thing.”

“Can you keep my secret?” She ignored his comment, asking the question anxiously instead.

Brandon smiled, grabbing her pinky finger with his own.

“What are friends for?”

They sat together on the front step outside, watching the stars and waiting patiently for the police to arrive. Charlotte couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“You know, I’m glad I got this second chance.” She stared up at the stars, slightly blurred through a vale of tears. “I thought I had a family in my first life… but I had nothing. This time, I have parents, friends… and that’s everything I could have ever wanted.”

“Plus you got revenge on the guy who killed you!” Brandon pushed the angry, gagged Peter who laid helpless on the ground in front of them with his foot. The man glared in return, but was ignored by the two children. “And you’re only five. What are you going to do now?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know… I hadn’t planned that far ahead.” She looked over. “Tell me about this new project you’re going to be acting in.”

“Did Lacy talk to you?!” Brandon looked excited, “You should try out for the part! Then we can keep working together and hanging out…” He trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

“I’d like that.” She smiled. “Acting was kind of fun.”

They both stayed silent after that, listening to the sounds of sirens in the distance. Charlotte let out a slow, sigh of relief.

She was alive.

And this time, she would live a life filled with friends and family.

This time, she would be happy.

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 116 Thoughts

tfw all of Yelena’s problems can be solved with murder.

So another chapter, another month of having zero clue how any of this could possibly be fixed. You’ve got Marley, you’ve got Paradis, you’ve got unhappy Eldians on both sides, you’ve got a century of brain washing going without an answer, you’ve...

Ugh.

Let’s just... let’s do this by character, I guess?

Pieck gets first billing as Best Girl.

Wants her father to have a bright future.

Holds Gabi’s hand.

good, pure

Knows Marley’s fucked up.

Knows Zeke’s fucked up.

Does not approve of Falco’s underage drinking.

Probably should have just shot Eren.

Wants happy Eldians.

Trusts her comrades.

Eren.

Make everyone in the world angry.

Especially his friends.

If they aren’t angry enough, try harder.

If anger isn’t an option, despair is good too.

Do punch them in the face once optimal anger achieved.

Do not trust literally anyone.

Do not use Gabi’s name.

ever

her name’s brat now

Do get along with cult.

Do search for brother.

Do lock up all best friends in the world so that in the event of an airstrike they’re all extraordinarily screwed.

Profit.

(Eren, until further plot developments explain what is going on in that head of yours, your plans are stupid.)

Yelena:

“You would all be much happier if you just accepted that the world would be better off without your bloodline and helped out with us eradicating it.”

“Also I have found God and he’s a baseball furry and his little brother.”

Zeke:

Thinks everyone should die.

just everyone

him too

a lot

To which Paradis has responded:

CAPTAIN ELDIA: CIVIL WAR

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?

Further alcoholism can’t make this worse.

“How could we have known that putting all of our eggs in the basket of this woman who keeps shooting bad eggs with her boss who makes a habit of throwing eggs would end badly?”

What I keep coming back to, and keep not having a good answer for, is why in the fuck is this all such a mess? I have made Code Geass and Madoka comments largely in jest, but considering how reckless Eren is being with his public face and international politics, it starts to feel either intentional or careless.

None of his friends are backing him at the moment, barring Jean’s confusion. He’s broken Mikasa’s heart, and Armin and Connie’s trust.

He’s nominally allied with the Yeagerists, but he’s gone to zero effort to be friendly with them. He goes along with Floch’s ticking clock of a schedule, but since leaving his jail cell, he’s been very clear that his only allegiance is to his aim of finding Zeke.

Yelena offers up the rumbling as a way to continue to defend the island before all the Eldians expire, but Eren and Zeke have made the entire world remember the terror of titans. If they ever were willing to forget that one little island, no one is anymore.

Zeke himself believes that the forces of the rest of the world will be at their doorstep soon. Marley’s come first, but the world Yelena describes, where the rumbling deters all further violence against Eldians while their lives slowly end, is a fantasy. There are too many angry voices inside and outside the walls now. One dominant display of force is going to convince the world to leave Paradis alone?

The last time everyone chose to forget Paradis, Paradis came to them and murdered people indiscriminately.

Sure, no more children will be born to become titans.

Eventually.

In the meantime... at absolute best, the Eldians inside the walls go back to being unable to leave the safety of the walls. The titans continue to keep the rest of the world out, and them in.

Only now everyone inside the walls knows that there’s a world outside.

It is much easier to keep people contained when they think they have nowhere to go. Lock all of Paradis back behind their walls, and they’ll eat each other. We already see the Yeagerists. That’s just one group of angry people. With Zeke’s spinal fluid being used to manipulate their entire military, there’s the obvious proof that their government is perfectly fallible.

Paradis has spent years trying to spread out of their box.

The rumbling, at best, crams them back in it until they all die, only opening when every last one of them is gone.

Thanks for being the voice of reason, Jean.

Not to mention that the rumbling itself hinges on the continued consent of the royal line, and a future Founding Titan and royal heir not deciding that this is all stupid and maybe they should use their power a different way. If you keep the Founding Titan and someone of royal blood alive to the end of Eldians, there is always going to be some wiggle room.

All it takes is one Founding Titan touching a royal heir somewhere down the line. Eren and Zeke aren’t unique in their roles. Their work can always be undone.

Yelena’s defense is that certainties can’t be counted on in any country, and it’s true, but she’s so enamored with the possibility of Eren and Zeke’s joint power that she seems to overlook how they won’t be the last holders of that power.

That’s the literal text of the plan.

For Eren and Zeke to not be the last people who can wield this power.

...

Well, you’ll probably be dead before you’re directly confronted with all your plan’s problems, so who cares anyway?

Eldians don’t die out peacefully in this strategy. They will die knowing that their existence is such a blight on the world that the only solution anyone could come up with for peace was to wipe them all out.

“I don’t trust Marley. I want Eldians to be free. But... I trust those... I’ve fought alongside.”

One of my primary complaints about the Marley arc was that the things the protagonists of that arc were fighting for were impossible. They could be good people doing bad things. They could be sympathetic. They could have moments of happiness.

They weren’t ever going to win.

That hasn’t really changed, but I like how Pieck puts it. The people who have been in the trenches with her won’t be so quick to abandon her or their people. It isn’t perfect. It’s still horrific and fucked up and an impossible longshot for Eldians to have any kind of future no matter how this pans out.

But Pieck believes in her friends, while Eren’s tossed his in a dungeon.

Somewhere, in the light of that trust, there can be a path to hope. Maybe.

Fuck Marley, though. The fact that they have the tools and the people to derail an atrocious injustice doesn’t change that they have made themselves into monsters and Eldians their slaves. As antagonists, the Warriors are engaging, but Marley as a greater body continues to just be... wrong.

Yelena’s right to say that the end of titans would free Marley from the chain of violence they’ve been perpetuating, and that is so much more noble than I would care to recognize.

Yes, of course it’s much better if people no longer have the ability to turn other people into slaves and set them loose like rabid dogs on the world.

But if you were going to pick a side of the population in need of elimination, the people who have chosen that path seem far more worthy than the people who are abused in its wake.

(I refuse to talk about Marley without saying Fuck Marley. Fuck Marley.)

Going back to the Eren, what we have is a situation where both of the loudest plans are not good. But Eren’s been content enough to follow along with his brother’s Not Good plan, despite everyone around him having permanent question marks over their head at his intentions.

Zeke’s plan is too destructive for it to go the way Yelena describes. For Zeke, who sees death as a release anyway, that isn’t a concern. For anyone who actually wants Eldians to be okay before they die out, and isn’t blinded by their own fanaticism, it is a concern.

Giving Eren the benefit of the doubt, because someone trying this hard to be a dick probably has some kind of reason, and none of the stated ones make sense, this shouldn’t be a plan that aligns with what he wants.

Unless his plan renders what everyone else does irrelevant. Unless the world seeing him as needlessly aggressive and cruel is more meaningful than being kind to the people he loves most in the world.

Look, I’m sure it’s more complicated than that, but until I stop finding it amusing and a more stable idea than half the other stuff my head’s concocted, Eren’s fucking Zero. Of the Code Geass way.

That happy ending was a fairy tale that shouldn’t have worked, too.

My other theory is that Eren’s going to unmake the world in a way that will permanently destroy him, and he needs his besties to not be near enough to fight him on that.

But all I really know

is that I just want an AU where Paradis rejoins the world as people instead of monsters and find allies and solve Ymir’s Curse without sentencing themselves to death.

And none of these idiots with their dramatics come anywhere close to that. The Survey Corps’ been left crying in a corner while Godzilla shoves them into a locker and kicks over their Lego tower. Godzilla, indeed, appears to be going out of its way to destroy as many Lego towers as possible, so whenever the Survey Corps starts moving, they will absolutely step on a Lego while Godzilla tells them it’s for the greater good.

To be fair, this is probably what happens when a handful of people have enormously powerful plot magic that can put the entire world in danger, and they don’t feel like being diplomatic.

It still leaves me in a permanent state of could you have maybe not? with regards to the choices being made. Because at this point so many horrible choices have been made that it’s pretty obvious that other horrible choices are going to get a full commitment to try to dig out of the grave.

Connie wins for the greatest #mood of the chapter.

In a funny way, we’ve wrapped right around back to the initial premise.

Tiny, powerless humans facing impossible odds.

Only this time, the hero of that story might not be on their side.

Fighting titans never worked for any of Eldia’s enemies. Until technology outside the walls started to advance far enough, no one ever could do anything except fall in the face of titans.

But a tiny band of humans locked away inside the walls looked at all these enemies right outside their gates, and decided that they were no reason to stay inside for the rest of their lives.

They decided, even if it got them all killed, these were obstacles worth fighting.

I can’t object to the story landing back here, but it is exhausting. Everything is in disarray. The possibility of a happy ending isn’t in any of the winning outcomes for any of the presented sides.

Also until canon says otherwise, I’m going to interpret the 104th’s reaction to Armin’s tears as all of them wondering why the fuck Armin’s face does that when he tries to lie.

Jean is not impressed.

Maybe just because you’re not supposed to agree with sterilizing everyone you’ve ever known, but for now I choose to believe that Jean, who last used a knife when trying to make friends out of enemies, really thinks Armin should be better at this.

None of you are good at this.

Try not to get bombed.

And because I’m me and can’t let it go, this chapter continues the trend of Historia’s new status of a plot mcguffin instead of an actual person.

You could literally replace her with that rocking chair and the story told so far this arc would not be impacted.

It’s becoming strange enough that I’m very sure something is going on, because Isayama doesn’t treat his characters like furniture, and more to the point, her entire arc that the anime just butchered is a direct answer to the euthanization crap.

Not addressing that feels like a cop-out. Among the other problems with literally everything the story has said about her role. Something’s clearly up, but that doesn’t make the situation any less aggravating. I mean sure, maybe her showing up would ruin the Drama because she already has her answer to someone trying to destroy her but but but

Lastly, I am glad Mikasa gets speech bubbles. I am also glad that Jean and Connie care for their buddies. And that Armin is so blunt about “he made Mikasa sad so I hit him.” And that Connie’s anger has calmed into Connie’s sadness. Even if I do not care for Connie being sad.

Somehow, you four might just live.

...

Please?

[puppy-the-mask]

Serval of Bone

No editing, we die like idiots

ok light editing

When you woke up things had been… Well they’d been a doozy. One minute you were being administered the cure and the next? 

Next you woke up to the world re-forming after what the apocalypse had done to it. It wasn’t anywhere near the place it had been before the 3 year hell, you remember the times before the outbreak- when monsters had escaped the underground and been met with resistance. Now they were humanity’s saviors. 

They had been the ones to take the lead in stabilizing and uniting the people, the ones who developed the cure. Sadly it wasn’t making it’s way to you and your people fast enough, the only cure you could get in a timely manner turned out to have been from an amature mage that had bitten off more than they could chew. It reacted with your soul and sent you into a coma,( the effects were different for each soul trait it had been used on. You have a friend in a suped up new-age asylum cause of that shit.). Then Once you got the monster cure it took 5 years to combat the janky cure and fix your zombification, but they had given up long before that point and thrown you into a tomb. 

You shuttered at the memories, the feeling of maggots crawling around your ribcage and getting squashed between your hip joint and femur when you’d tried to walk, picking them out of your MANDIBLE

Eugh- fuckin maggots. You’d seen some shit during those 3 years but that had to have been your least favorite part of it all. 

So now you were a skeleton, probably through some cure-virus-magic-meshing bullfuckery. And you’d think that was cool But It’s NOT!

After snagging your old clothes from the exhibits (the police and memorial staff were Not happy about that- but it’s their fault for thinking you were dead and propping up your things!) you’d discovered that talking without vocal cords was MUCH harder than one would think. But also surprisingly possible??? Also that basically all of your prior physical ailments, human and zombie, were gone. Who knew the way to fixing the inability to feel was to get rid of your nerves entirely?! 

But more about your voice! Apparently it liked being difficult and only worked if you spoke in an accent, which didn’t make any sense BECAUSE IT STILL SOUNDED THE SAME IT ALWAYS DID WHEN IT CAME OUT. And of course, to top it off you had to borderline Shout as well! Apparently it was some weird font thing that had manifested as a side effect of becoming a fucking living skeleton

Ooooh and the real heart breaker, You can’t eat. Any food you have goes right through you, not even a taste and oop! Now you gotta change your clothes! Oh but your sense of smell works just fine. Also your tears!

You had tried getting a job at a Cafe and had to quit because it got to the point that just smelling the amazing desserts and drinks had you almost bawling the moment you walked in. So now you worked at a bookstore Monday through Thursday and as a bodyguard Fridays and weekends. 

With you dead your social life too did follow, all your old compatriots in the Zombie Rehab Squad having long moved on to more social issues or rebuilding their own lives. So you’d decided to start a new one, a life that is, with a new name and everything!

Now you were Serval, your font’s name- which you discovered was the only thing you could write in, and fit you in an odd sort of way? Which was confusing but what wasn’t at this point? 

Like right now, you were being contracted for a diplomatic escort. Apparently the Monster Mascots were traveling out to the more rural areas to see what life was like where the zombies ran amuck. Because even an apocalypse can’t kill racism. You and other zombie guards were apparently being brought on to replace the royal guard as a sign of good will while they meet with the ZRS head and learned more about the zombie’s side of things.

Which while it was a nice gesture you didn’t see how your side would be much different than theirs? People got infected, some went rabid some could be saved, other survivors didn’t even know we were dead already half the time, then we were cured and now it's over. But at the same time, the other survivors didn’t have to worry about getting caught, having someone fuss over your wound only to realize your hand is cold and pulseless, having to run while they waste their precious bullets on you, trying desperately to keep yourself from rotting or getting too injured for a cure to be of any use.

You shook off the memories and re-read the paragraph you were on. It was pretty standard, the only thing was that you’d have to work on mondays, wednesdays, and thursdays once they got here. Guess I'll text Scarf about not being able to work the bookstore for a bit. You didn’t really need to be there, it was more you hanging out reading with the store owner Scarf behind the counter while waiting for someone to come in. Currency systems in the outlands had collapsed some time ago so working was just a way to pass the time and keep from going stir-crazy.

You sighed and signed the contract, standing and leaving once all the formalities were over with. Pulling out your phone, you sent Scarf a text.

Lich: Hey, Just signed for a job with the incoming mascots, only gonna have Wednesdays free to work with you when they come to town

Booknerd: oh really? bummer 

Booknerd: was planning on reading ~The Alchemist~

Lich: Boring school one or fantasy one?

Booknerd: It’s Not Boring!!! >:(

*Lich changed Booknerd’s name to NoTalkMe*

NoTalkMe: >:O!!!

You snickered as you put the phone away. You’d have to do some laundry when you got home to have enough formal wear, uuugh, you also had a bar gig tonight. You’re already regretting your choices. 

At least the bar let you wear your old gear

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

Laundry took longer to scrub and leave out than you’d expected, so you’d gotten to the bar late, and boy was it something when you got there! 

Donned in your signature patchwork cloak you’d strutted in, ready to apologize to the owner, when there was already a commotion. One of the regulars had had a bit too much.

“Whaddya mean yer nt servul???” oh stars was he looking for you? You sighed out, mouthing multiple curses, and pinched between your sockets, promptly walking over to the drunkard and dragging him out by the back of his shirt. 

The man’s head whipped between you and the poor person he was harassing before he went slack in your grip, still being dragged across the floor “Mebe ‘ve had bit toooo mush to drenk.” yeah no shit sherlock. You just huffed at him and shook your head

Stars it smelled so good in here, you had to wipe away some drool- playing it off as a face palm- all while thinking about how unfair it was that your could drool but not eat, and what this place’s fries must taste like.

After standing with him outside the establishment and calling someone to pick their idiot up, you returned to the barkeep. You knew the little scene earlier was enough to let them know you’d shown up but you wanted to make sure, for professionalism's sake... Oh man you could smell the seasonings, thank goodness your cloak shades your face in this lighting!

You had just made it to the bar when the owner piped up from the kitchen window. “We know yer here Serv, dramatic entrance and all. Feel free to come inside if you get tired of standing by the door all night!” You sent them a nod and made your way back outside, still trying to stave off dreams of decent food and oblivious to the two skeletons at the bar who started asking about you.

[mustardyellowsunshine]

The Boy Who Waited

Inuyasha had to wonder why the universe kept trying to teach him patience.

He’d had his first lessons in patience as a little boy, trying with a knock-kneed clumsiness to fend for himself in the wild. Crouching for long hours in the forest brush, waiting for some hapless creature—a squirrel, a opossum, or hell, even a field mouse—to scurry within swiping distance. Learning after nights of gut-knotting, writhing agony that he had to be more careful about which berries and mushrooms he ate, had to learn their scents, figure out the edible from the potentially lethal. Patience meant holding a palmful of wild berries in his shaking hand and, instead of shoveling the only food he’d found in days directly into his mouth, pausing long enough to make sure they weren’t poisonous. Patience did not come easy to a body that had not known a meal for days on end, a body that had forgotten it could be more than aching hunger.

His patience had been tested with every human encounter. Every country yokel who shouted and pointed at him like he was no better than a rabid monkey stumbling into their village; every merchant who turned up their nose and refused to trade with him; every passing soldier or farmer-turned-mercenary who took a swing at him with a club or a knife, just because they could, because he was alone and an easy mark, and any witnesses would’ve just thanked them for it, anyway.   

He’d cultivated patience while tracking down the Shikon no Tama, holding onto its promise—you will be complete, you will be real, no longer only two halves of an impossible whole—whispering inside him like a prayer.

Patience was being pinned to a tree for fifty years, suspended in time like an insect in amber.

Patience was getting stuck with an idiot human girl from an incomprehensible world and not killing her on day one. It was still not killing her after she shattered the Shikon no Tama—his one hope of wholeness—and it was saving her hide even though letting her die would’ve made his life hella easier.

Patience was putting up with her moods, the fiery anger, the snappish comebacks, how her words could lacerate in ways he’d never known. Patience was holding his tongue when she cried after seeing a dead body, cried for the orphans begging on the roads, even cried when a farmer slit the throat of his lamed oxen; Inuyasha could not understand these tears, her sorrow over what was inevitable. Even his incomprehension seemed to make her sad. And then she would turn around and laugh at a cooing baby strapped to a village woman’s back, or smile at a singing bird. Patience meant digging his teeth into his tongue to keep from saying, If you want to survive my world, stop being kind. 

He was patient when he felt the first stirrings of… something for this idiot human. He waited it out, held the something in his thoughts, tried to feel out its shape, and kept in check any impulse to act on it, despite the many temptations to do so. It was probably nothing, after all, just a tickle in his chest, a weird warmth beneath his skin, a lump in his throat when she turned that smile on him. He was probably just sick.  

He kept waiting it out as that something stuck around, quietly taking root, digging deeper and deeper with every soft, confusing thing she did. Sometimes she smiled at him as though he made her happy, touched his hand as though he couldn’t taint her. Sometimes fury ignited her whole body after someone insulted him, and sorrow clouded her eyes when she believed he belonged to another—as though he actually mattered, as though she’d lost something precious. She radiated a stony determination when she battled by his side, and sometimes she became reckless, lost her fool human head completely: jumped in front of arrows for him, faced off with powerful enemies on his behalf armed with nothing but a glare and her own indignation.

And when he lost his patience, it was nearly always on her account. Kagome was a living exercise in patience.

But it was her absence that required the most patience of him. Inuyasha found, with no small surprise (or consternation), that the girl’s absence was far more trying than her presence had ever been. As though she took all of life’s texture away with her, his world became unbearably dull—flattened, somehow, like she gave it dimension—when she left. It was then that he longed for her world, even with its incomprehensible strangeness, because at least it was a world with her in it.

What an uncomfortable shock it had been, to realize that she’d forever altered the landscape of his life, and she didn’t even know it. To realize that she’d gone from being a mere disruption of his world to being its animating force.

And now, in her longest absence, he wondered if she’d felt remotely the same things he had: if he’d pushed at the bounds of her patience, if he’d given her a lump in her throat just with his nearness, if anxious anticipation had ever licked up her spine, if he’d tangled her up inside until she couldn’t tell up from down, if he’d rearranged her world into something altogether new and exciting. He hoped so.

It was only now, in her longest absence—three years of mornings spent alone by the well, three years of nights imagining her beside him, reaching out to brush nothing but air—that he saw clearly for the first time. The promise he’d once sought—you will be complete, you will be real, no longer only two halves of an impossible whole—did not lay in the Shikon’s power, but instead lay in the hands of one human girl.

And so he was patient. He waited.  

A/N: Not sure exactly what this is or where it came from but... *shrugs* it’s a thing I guess?