#involving a lot of blood and everyone just fiending for a piece of her

[deathtulips]

oh I wish I had the energy for blender.. I would do so much things with nissa

[dalekofchaos]

Rachel’s Story, Life Is Strange:The Storm

I think what we need is a game that tells us Rachel’s story. After watching Twin Peaks:Fire Walk With Me, it made me think we need Rachel’s story told. What happened to Rachel was tragic, but it needs to be told. So here are things I want to see in a hypothetical LIS game where we play as Rachel Amber.

The best way to continue the story of Arcadia Bay. It would be the next logical step. Playing as Rachel would give us a new fresh angle, and set the stage for the original where we play once again as Max. It would be a fitting end to this LiS/BtS story and give us closure to Rachel’s character. And honestly, Chloe works better as a supporting character because Deck Nine did not understand Chloe Price.

Rachel’s ability. Where Max has the ability to rewind, Chloe can backtalk. I think Rachel's will be to fit into place and to convince everyone to do what she wants. It’s perfect for her and her personality.

Set Rachel’s character in line to the original game. Rachel Amber has charisma, intelligence, beauty and a lot of attitude, which would make the game full of action and dynamic. Her past is still mysterious, and playing as Rachel would be the right choice.

Make it clear that Rachel has completely severed ties with James and Rose. Telling Rachel the truth is the canon ending. Choosing hide the truth is completely stupid, the fact that hide the truth has a higher percentage with the fandom is laughable. Rachel has no good relationship with her parents by the events of LIS anyway. So what I will do is this. Rachel has completely severed ties with her parents and only chooses to be in contact with Sera. We will find out that Sera chose to go into rehab one final time for Rachel. This is why James and Rose refuse to believe that Rachel is even missing and the DA doesn’t even orders a search looking for his daughter.

Continuing our relationship with Chloe. Have it mentioned that Rachel and Chloe have been in a relationship since 2010. Show them kissing more, show Chloe and Rachel setting up Chloe’s room, show them partying, show them dancing, show them having sex and just showing them declaring their love for each other and showing them in love. Rachel was Chloe’s Santa Monica Dream. They loved each other, and I want their relationship to be shown more.  

Let it finally be about Rachel helping Chloe. Rachel helping lift Chloe through the worse point of her life. If Rachel had stopped Chloe from committing suicide… as was the commonly believed interpretation to what happened between Chloe and Rachel up until BtS, then Chloe’s ”“she was my angel” would have meant it was truly special and real.  Chloe and Rachel together having fun rocking out and Chloe starting to live again and show that Chloe Price loves Rachel Amber and Rachel loves Chloe.

Rachel’s antagonism with David and David’s paranoia for Rachel. Once again I have to make it clear. Chloe and David do not and should not have a good relationship and Joyce normalizing an abusive step-father is not a good thing. David does not understand nor does he care about Chloe’s depression and grief for losing William and Max moving away. Show that David physically, mentally and emotionally abuses her. Joyce normalizes it. So what I would have happen is this will be the first official time David will catch Chloe with weed. David slaps Chloe and Rachel is there to see it. Rachel has had it. Rachel puts her fucking foot down. “IF YOU EVER LAY YOUR FUCKING HAND ON MY GIRLFRIEND EVER AGAIN, I WILL CALL MY DAD, THE DA AND ARREST YOUR ASS FOR CHILD ABUSE. DON’T EVER TOUCH CHLOE AGAIN.” Rachel was so mad, she threatened to pull the James card. This is what enrages David to the point of installing cameras in his own home without Chloe or Joyce’s consent and getting a job as Blackwell’s head of security. He does not trust Chloe and Rachel and thinks because she dared to defend Chloe, that Rachel is “a bad influence” Stop trying to make us feel bad for this abusive piece of shit and make Chloe out to be the villain for not giving this asshole a chance.  He emotionally, mentally and physically abuses her and joyce normalizes it, violates her privacy. David makes Chloe feel like a prisoner in her own home. The safe home that Chloe has lived in all her life is no longer safe  the “safe” home that Chloe should have had was in fact a place where she didn’t feel safe, did not have privacy, and was harassed whenever David was home. She frequently would go to American Rust to sleep (because whatever happened with Rachel, it wasn’t safe to stay with her). She couldn’t even rely on her teachers to report child abuse because the police were sympathetic toward David and refused to act… and then David ended up getting a job as a security guard at Blackwell Academy and that one last safe place, school, was now the domain of her abuser. So Chloe would get herself expelled just to get free from David.  Whenever he is around she does not feel safe. He makes her so afraid that she feels like she’s living with a Nazi. They are not meant to have a good relationship. And it really sent an awful message that “you must be nice to your future abuser just to make your mother happy” What kind of abuse apologetic bullshit was that? The worst part is that Joyce chose her own happiness for the safety and well being of her own daughter.  Joyce enabled an abusive stepfather and ignored her daughter being hit and verbally abused (and there is a word for that: culpability. Joyce is guilty of child abuse. If we do not back up Chloe in episode 1 and we tell Joyce David hit Chloe, Joyce just brushes it off like it’s not a big deal. Joyce betrayed her own daughter by always choosing David over her. She never stopped the abuse. The only time she did anything is when Max was a witness and even then she doesn’t see it as a problem, more of an inconvenience. When she finally does kick David out, it’s not because David abuses her daughter, it’s because David put up cameras without her permission. “I just want us to be a family” if anything show us that Rachel was the only one who was truly there for Chloe.     

Make it clear everything Rachel was doing with Frank and Jefferson is so Rachel could’ve escaped to LA with Chloe. Rachel was looking for a way out of Arcadia Bay. She first thought both her and Chloe can escape to LA together. But over time she did not think that was possible anymore. Chloe dodges her car payments and her family is in debt and Chloe is in debt to Frank. She still wants to leave with Chloe, but Rachel needed an alternative way so she and Chloe can escape. So that’s when  Rachel turns to Frank, she used him for his money and drugs because as  time goes on, Rachel turns to drugs to numb the pain. She parties with The Vortex Club and as Nathan said “Rachel partied like a fiend on her own.” Hell, she was so desperate to leave Arcadia Bay she even asked the trucker to take her to LA. But I believe everything she was doing, she was doing so She and Chloe can get out of Arcadia Bay. The vibe I got from the first game is that Rachel and Chloe have this very important and special bond. But Rachel just wanted to be free of Arcadia Bay by any means necessary. Rachel would go far to get what she wanted. Someone who is willing to lie to the people she cared about to satisfy her own needs and goals. Personally, I see Rachel as being okay with manipulating everybody BUT Chloe, which gives everybody a foothold to try and gaslight Chloe and Max about her, trying to get them to doubt that Rachel genuinely cared about Chloe. And she did. Rachel Amber loved Chloe Price and had genuine feelings for Chloe and wanted to escape together.

Explore Rachel’s connections. Explore Rachel’s connections in Blackwell. Her rivalry and falling out with Victoria. Show that Victoria has respect and adoration for Rachel, but as Jeffershit showed more favor and adoration for Rachel, than her, then Victoria turned on Rachel. Evidence of the graffiti in Blackwell shows that Victoria bullied Rachel Amber and spread rumors about Rachel. So Rachel decided to be bigger than the Vortex Club to spite Victoria.  Rachel and Nathan’s relationship. I think they had a close friendship. Nathan harbored feelings for Rachel, but he knew she loved Chloe. I see Rachel as the one good thing Nathan had in Arcadia Bay, the closest thing he had to a good connection since his sister Kristine. She made him feel good about himself and soothed him without the need of hearing whale sounds. Rachel was Nathan’s safe space. As for how they both got involved with the Dark Room. It started out innocent. They both saw this as a private photo project and Rachel’s chance at being a model. It turned dark. I believe that Nathan tried to help Rachel and in doing this, resulted in Jeffershit overdosing Rachel and dosing Nathan and posing Nathan with Rachel’s dead body as punishment and was planning on pinning Rachel on Nathan. But it turned dark. When Rachel disappeared, Nathan lost it. When he saw Max in Rachel’s clothes, he hoped it really was Rachel, but he knew it wasn’t her. Rachel and Frank. I believe Rachel was just using Frank for money, Frank was obviously attracted to Rachel on their first meeting, but they never interacted and Rachel only wanted to find Sera. I think they first became close because Frank saved Chloe and Sera. Rachel isn’t the manipulative monster some people make her out to be. Rachel only wanted to escape Arcadia Bay with Chloe, she had no intention of leaving her behind, Rachel loved Chloe Price. She only wanted money out of Frank. What Nathan says is more likely. Rachel was only there for the stash and gave him photos in return. “everyone knows Frank is a liar and loser, even Rachel did” and there was a falling out between Frank and Rachel, plus Frank’s blood oath for Rachel must have creeped her out. And in her letter, Rachel ended it. “Frank, That was not cool what you did. And don't blame the drugs. You actually scared me and I thought you'd never chill out. I've never seen you act that way and the next time will be the last. I'm a Leo and we don't look back. I care about you, us, so maybe we need to break our routine.“ Also when the meeting with Frank goes wrong, Chloe will say she loved Rachel and she knows Rachel loved her. Frank will act hostile and possessive of Rachel “Chloe, you don’t know shit. You were part of her problem. Always trying to take her away from me… Always!”  I believe that Frank had an unhealthy attachment to Rachel and Rachel did care for Frank, but Rachel just wanted a way out of Arcadia Bay for her and Chloe Then, Rachel meets Mark Jefferson. Jefferson was Rachel’s teacher. This video explains Rachel and Jefferson perfectly.  Rachel saw him as her way to LA. She wanted to have her pictures modeled by a professional, which he was, but Rachel never saw him for what he was. A sheep in wolf’s clothing, a monster. He saw her as the perfect subject. A human chameleon with many visual possibilities and he felt they had a connection. Manipulating her into believing that he is the father figure that James never was for her. Rachel wrote a letter to Chloe in the shack but discarded it. She feels that he changed her life but the discarded letter shows that she felt ashamed about the whole relationship. "C. You can tell how much I want you to read this letter since I've been dragging my ass to give it to you. Maybe I just want you to find it when I'm not around so we never have to talk about it. And I don't want you to hate me. Where to start?I met somebody recently who's so different from the lame Vortex Club snobs. I know you'll have a meltdown when I tell you and think he's gross, but I swear he's wise and unconventional. Kind of scary, not in a "bad boy" way. He's just experienced some serious shit. Yes, I'm kinda obssessed (sic). I won't blame you for freaking.Maybe I know you're right and this just has to be my secret.I hate not sharing this with you except I know you'd give me that stink eye and grill me for every stupid detail. If I even told you that last night we hooked up near campus (...)" Her shame indicates that she was apart of the Dark Room as a consenting subject. At first she just saw it as a big photography project outside of school, but then Rachel started to look into Jefferson’s past models and figured out something was terribly wrong. In Jefferson’s own words “Not like Rachel, who was always looking in the wrong places. Poor Rachel.” Jefferson of course finds out because The Dark Room is under 24 hours surveillance. So out of fear of Rachel telling everyone, Jefferson kills Rachel, doses Nathan and poses Nathan’s unconscious body with Rachel’s lifeless body.  Stella believes they had sex, but I think it is more than likely that Jeffershit dosed her and raped her. He said “Rachel was in love with me” but how is there any truth to that? All Jefferson has done the entire game is manipulate and gaslight. There was no love, there was just Jefferson’s sick and twisted perverted Dark Room project. Rachel wanted a way out and she thought she had her way out, but in the end she played with fire and got burned. He killed her and blamed it on Nathan. But since Sera was meant to have powers, I believe that Rachel had powers passed down to her. I believe that Rachel’s death is what causes the storm. The storm is what Chloe said, Rachel’s revenge.  And in my opinion somehow her spirit gave Max the powers to save Chloe cause she wanted to destroy the town but she wanted Chloe to be safe so she gave the powers to Max so she could save Chloe from the storm.

Rachel is the storm. The death of Chloe caused Max to get rewind powers. When Rachel gets emotional enough. She has the power to unleash destructive weather controlling power. The thing is though, it turns out that her father wasn't involved with just some random mistress. More importantly though, we know of an event that is emotionally traumatizing enough for Rachel to unleash this kind of power. Because something unfathomably, fridge horror worse, happens to her than simply witnessing her father cheat. She gets kidnapped, sexually humiliated, drugged, and killed. Like the other victims of Jefferson, that is some dark side of reality shit right there. So it's very appropriate. An innocent girl gets violated tremendously and murdered, but this time, it's one with supernatural power. Hence supernatural consequences. This would mean that to whatever extent Chaos Theory was relevant. It had very little to do with anything Max did. In actuality it was more to hint at a string of consequences brought on by Jefferson and the Prescotts. In fact this was already pretty obvious in the first season, except it makes infinitely more sense now. Just with the first season alone, one was left to think this was some sort of Indian voodoo shit and that Chloe was just some sort of sacrifice to appease the Gods. But now we know, it's because of the original victim central to this story. Rachel Amber. The reason Chloe dying seems to appease the storm is because it results in retributive justice against Rachel's abusers. See another thing this ties in, is the Prescott family's impact on the environment. Something so strongly lathered on in the first season, with no inexplicable explanation when we are otherwise led to believe that the storm is caused by Max specifically. If the Prescott family essentially gets banished from Arcadia Bay right from the beginning. They don't influence the environment in exactly the way Rachel needs to harness the kind of power she does. So even though Rachel may still desire revenge against Arcadia. The forces of nature do not afford her such destruction if the Prescotts are busted early on. It's most likely a combination of her powers, and the forces of nature being contorted enough by the Prescotts polluting the environment, that creates the hurricane. Think about it. We are not even remotely told that simply, Chloe dying is what appeases the storm. Rather specifically what we are really told is that Max opens up certain options by the end of the first season. After finding out everything, she can go back and be a witness to Chloe's murder. Allowing her to bust Nathan Prescott, and Jefferson. If it was the other way around, it doesn't make sense. Because why would Nathan or Jefferson get in trouble at all if Max wasn't there? Nobody would know who killed Chloe, there would be no evidence. As well especially, Jefferson would have never got caught in the slightest. So ultimately, Max essentially strips Rachel of her venom so to speak. By time Nathan and Jefferson face consequences in the timeline where you choose to save Chloe. The chain of events have already led up to the Storm forming. So it can't be stopped. The environment has been polluted, etc. In fact there's no reason to believe that Rachel herself can STOP the storm. What we see with her powers is that she can unleash... chaos. Particularly of the weather variety. But she probably couldn't stop that forest fire if she had wanted to. It was most likely set in stone during the moments when she was being violated by Jefferson. That's when she probably experienced enough trauma for something like that to be set in motion. But after having passed away, she probably can't reverse the trajectory of things herself. That's where Max comes in, because she's a living participant. So she can mitigate Rachel's domino effect. Like a "Shield of Time", Max can simultaneously protect Arcadia Bay from Rachel's wrath, while simultaneously appeasing her by bringing justice to those who wronged her.

Rachel is the Doe. In the final moments of the game. After Rachel’s death, we would see a scene similar to the nightmare scene in episode 5. But it’s basically Rachel relooking over her life and finally passing on. Rachel would pass on as the Spirit Doe, to guide Max and Chloe to the truth. The first official time we see the Doe, we see it in Max’s nightmare. In the nightmare whenever we see it, the storm rages on. The first normal time we see the doe, we see the Doe where we find Rachel. Rachel guides Max multiple times. She doesn’t manifest for Chloe… only Max. Max’s rewind power does not work on the Doe, meaning that it is a spirit. Rachel was able to manifest to Max in a form Max would not find threatening. But however or whyever Rachel chose to manifest as the Doe to Max, what we definitely know is that the Doe was guiding and helping Max - both to lead her and Chloe to her grave, and then afterward in the Nightmare to bring Max to a place where she could escape.   And then, we see Chloe finding Rachel’s remains. Chloe grieving for her lover and best friend, and the Doe looks sad and finally disappears and finds peace.

[ambivalentangst]

The Vampire and Keith’s Lasagna

 After disappearing for a a few weeks, I come back and present to you 2k+ words of cute Klance for Halloween. I've been loving all the creating in the Voltron fandom during October, so here’s my contribution to all that. Enjoy, and have a very spooky remainder of your Halloween!

-

When Keith had decided to go to Allura’s art show, he was not expecting to end the night drunk off his ass or to find a vampire eating leftover lasagna in the back of his car. In his defense, when Lotor asked one to go with him to a party, one did not say no. That was simply not how Altea University or the house of Kappa Kappa Gamma operated, and even if Keith did have the lack of self preservation needed where he would tell Lotor to kindly fling himself into the sun, he wasn’t willing to risk upsetting his friend group. Zethrid by herself was clearly a bodybuilder, and Keith doubted it would even be hard for her to crush his head between her thighs. Ezor at the very least was toned (Pidge had her money on her being an acrobat), Acxa could maim someone with a glare, and according to Allura and reluctantly, Shay, Narti’s wings were sharp enough to kill a man. They sat at the top of the dean’s list along with Lotor, who was Allura’s cousin. He wasn’t a bad guy, necessarily. Keith had a certain degree of respect for anyone who could handle a six pack of beer in an hour without passing out or being hospitalized. He was just, ah, how to put it, intense.

   Lotor ruled campus, which turned out to be a lot more difficult in college than all the movies made it out to be. He somehow managed to be in every necessary club or organization, showing up for just enough meetings to be in without being frowned upon, to where it took unprecedented lack of social prowess to not at least have heard Lotor’s name. He had excellent grades too, which was just unfair even to a prodigy who never studied like Keith. At least he couldn’t be seen partying every night of the weekend, then show up bright eyed and bushy tailed on Monday. So, going back to his night on the town and his first meeting with the pasta fiend. It had all started with Allura’s art show.

   Allura was a goddess in human form, and if anyone wanted to argue that point Keith could just direct them to the fact that she dyed her hair white and her roots were constantly flawless. That, and she could breakdance in six inch heels. Like he was saying, a goddess. Even someone whose fashion sense lay solely in flannels and whatever could hide a solid eight blades on his person at any given time like Keith could recognize that. She also happened to be a gifted artist, who Keith would defend with his dying breath because hello, it was Allura. Her color palettes gave him Jesus, which was pretty tough considering Keith was an atheist and resident cynic. Again, Allura.

   Her latest collection had opening night on Halloween, which fit the darker theme she’d been going for in her latest works beautifully. After a delightful dinner, courtesy of Hunk, they’d gone to the gallery. Lotor and the girls were there too, and Allura was obviously delighted to have them. It was all good, and Keith relished the thought that he’d remembered the insulated lunchbox (with an icepack, naturally) he had waiting in the car, stuffed with a very, very large container of lasagna. When weekly dinners with everyone became a norm, they’d all started to invest in some ways to take home leftovers. After the gallery and meal Keith felt fairly socially exhausted, but Lotor had decided to strike.

   He and his squad of terrifying women trapped him, and with that silver tongue of his suddenly Keith found himself at the biggest party of first semester. Kappa Kappa Gamma’s costume party, which Lotor had deigned to miss the beginning of in favor of his cousin. He was a frat boy, but he at least had some loyalty to family. The only thing topping it throughout the school year was New Year’s, but Keith admittedly never really remembered much of that by the time he woke up the next morning. A literal cocktail of bad decisions followed upon his arrival to the party, including but not limited to a bit of a chugging contest with Matt. He’d showed up along the way with the rest of their friend group because when making bad life choices, might as well get everyone involved in the fun. By the time Keith stumbled out of the hot bed of intoxicating substance and horrible music that made him almost let loose his stomach full of way too many different types of alcohol on Nyma’s shoes, he was thoroughly wasted. For anyone’s information, when he found the vampire, he had not been intending to drive home. He knew better, thank you very much. No, his plan had been to pass out in the backseat of his piece of shit car rather than all too sticky floor of that madhouse because really he would rather not relive that experience. Somewhere after his second line of shots he had scrawled that advice on his hand in what could only be understood by someone equally drunk.

   Instead, he found some asshole eating his lasagna.

   “Man, what the fuck?”

   A head of brown hair slowly swiveled his direction, with pupils blown disturbingly wide in the pools of glowing, electric blue that made up his eyes. Keith stared at him accusingly, and at the marinara dripping down his chin that in the dim lighting could only be discerned from blood due to the flecks of oregano hidden in its midst. White fangs flashed in what little illumination was offered by the street lamps, as the thief held out his hands in what appeared to be an attempt at placating Keith.

   “Listen, I’m really sorry, but we all have to eat, right? And, uh, if you didn’t mention this that’d be great so um if I could just slip past-” Keith crawled forward, shoving a finger into the boy’s chest.

   “You. Are. Eating. My. Lasagna.” This was inexcusable. Keith was angry. Very angry. How dare he? He was very excited about that lasagna for a hungover dinner or lunch tomorrow, it would depend on when his steady stream of vomit would subside. The stranger stared at him, those same startling eyes going from the sad last few bites that remained, and then back to Keith. Damn him, Keith thought. He’d been here awhile, then. A long time, and he’d spent that time eating his lasagna. 

   “I mean, do you want the last couple bites?” Keith snatched the tupperware from him, and the fork he also kept in his very nice lunchbox. He aggressively shoved some of the delicious, cheesy and saucy beauty in food form into his mouth. The stranger sighed, looking sad.

   “You’re not even going to have that in your system for a deserving amount of time. And to think I gave the last of the lasagna to someone so obviously trashed. You reek, by the way.” Keith stuck out his tongue, uncaring of the sauce dribbling down his chin as he did so. Screw the vampire. Screw him and his fiendish, pasta devouring ways. 

   “I am not trashed,” he defended himself. His face lit up as he continued. “You know what? You’re trashed. You’re trashed because you’re trash for stealing my lasagna.” The vampire stared, before laughing.

   “Okay pal.” Keith sat, hugging his now empty bowl to his chest, unaware of the stain slowly seeping into his shirt. The vampire sat, smiling while he observed Keith. Keith was equally tranquil for a few moments, before he reached forward and shoved his hand in Lance’s mouth, prying it open while he let the tupperware fall to the floor of the car.

   The vampire gagged, while Keith pushed his head back to better examine it in the street light.

   “So how’d you get these to look so good?” he muttered, poking with quite literally sticky fingers at the fangs he’d seen earlier. The vampire spat, grabbing his wrist to take his hand from his mouth.

   “Don’t do that!” he whined. “You taste like cheap booze and frat house floor,” he complained. Keith did his best to shove his grubby fingers back in the boy’s mouth. The stranger was indignant, though in Keith’s inebriated state he could not for the life of him fathom why.

   “Hold still,” he grumbled. The stranger yelped as Keith finally managed to worm his way back into his mouth to yank on one of the unnaturally sharp canines it contained. Keith frowned when it remained, and fumbled for the tooth again. The stranger this time grabbed both hands, and held them much tighter with a grip to stop Keith, which was impressive considering Keith had kickboxed for the past five years straight.

   “They didn’t move,” Keith told him. The stranger stared, his blue eyes still glowing.

   “No shit.”

   Keith did not respond to that. He stared at the vampire a little while longer.

   “So why didn’t they move?” The boy firstly whacked him, and secondly crossed his arms.

   “Because they’re real, obviously.” Keith was drunk, and drunk Keith did not care to argue with that, as the stranger wiped drool from his mouth with a grimace. He was also not in the state of mind to be harbor properly dubious thoughts about the boy’s claims.

   “Oh, that’s cool. I thought you were gonna’ say you used superglue or something. So why, exactly, are you eating my lasagna at two in the morning?” Keith had not forgotten just who the culprit was in this case scenario, and his eyes narrowed. He was going to stick his gross hands back in his mouth if he ever even thought about touching his leftovers again. The stranger huffed annoyedly.

   “Because, drunk mullet boy, I am not a heathen. Besides, because I’m only a halfie human food fills me up too, even though blood tastes better. Marinara works because it’s still red, but nothing dies except my diet. Tricks my head, and my stomach. It’s a win-win.” The boy smirked, apparently smug. However, he faltered after a moment, and looked to the side. “Plus this is--er, was--really good lasagna.” Keith raised a hand to smack the stranger, who yelped and threw himself to the floor to dodge.

   “I’m aware,” he seethed, glaring viciously. Lance laughed nervously, and put his hands up defensively.

   “Look, sorry about your pasta. Really, my bad. How about I drive you home to make up for it?” Keith thought about it for a moment. The vampire was offering a deal that sounded very good because when didn’t his bed sound good, but he was also the asshole who ate his very delicious lasagna and Keith just wasn’t sure he could trust someone that would do something like that. In the end, a vague sense of logic that told him when he woke up tomorrow he’d really rather be somewhere with a trashcan won out, and so he handed the vampire his keys.

   “Make it quick,” he grumbled, words slurring together. The vampire grinned.

   “Excellent. I, your humble escort, will have you home in no time at all.” 

   The two of them clambered into their respective seats in the front of the car, and the vampire revved up the engine. Keith, from his position with crossed arms and his head largely buried underneath his sweatshirt, slurred directions out. The vampire hummed as he drove, and as the car puttered politely at a red light the vampire looked to Keith, still with those eyes that glowed in the dark.

   “So, mullet boy, what’s your name?” Keith, who was not sober enough to realize giving personal information out to a stranger was a bad idea, responded with about as much enthusiasm as he was giving directions with.

   “Keith. Don’t call me mullet boy. It’s rude. You’re rude. What’s your name, rude lasagna thief?” The vampire laughed, before curling a lip and snarling a quick stream of profanity at another driver from behind ivory fangs.

   “Lance,” he told him when he settled down again. He hummed quietly, blowing past a stop sign after doing a quick once over for cops. “Gotta’ wonder if you’ll remember that in the morning. Probably not. I know the stench of tequila, and you smell like three nights of bad decisions rolled into one with a dash of bad fashion sense for good luck.” Keith scoffed.

   “I made perfectly good,” a hiccup interrupted him for a moment, “decisions.” Lance didn’t respond to that, and flashed a twenty four karat smile as he pulled into Keith’s parking spot.

   “And we’re here! Come on, Keith. Let’s get you home.” Despite Keith’s complaints as he made him ride piggy back, he got him up the stairs to his apartment and into his bed with a glass of water and a lined trash can nearby. Keith stared blearily at him from his pillow, his vision already blurring with exhaustion.

   “You are a rude perpetrator of pasta debauchery. Chef Boyardee is disappointed in you.” Lance laughed, flashing those sharply filed pearly whites again.

   “Whatever you say, mullet. See you later, Keith. Thanks for dinner!” Keith did not even have time to fire back something to express his indignance at his statement before Lance had disappeared, and he was out like a light.

   The next day was spent nursing an excruciating hangover, and lurking around his apartment in a huddle of blankets and pure hatred. He didn’t remember much from the night before, like the name of the stranger who had brought him back home or where his lasagna went. He was thinking about crafting an official conspiracy theory on it, but he needed Pidge for that and she wasn’t much better off than he was at the moment. Shiro scolded him a little, but nobody in their friend group had made it out of that party alive and well. He lost motivation pretty quickly, and went to go take some Advil. Keith didn’t even have a number in his phone to commemorate the flashes of electric blue eyes that lined his memory. Sad, but the loss of the cute boy that showed up Halloween night was forgotten under the mountain of work that slowly crept up on him again. It was not until several weeks later that he came to mind again, on dinner night at Keith and Shiro’s place. Hunk had just pulled his infamous lasagna from the oven to the mutual delight of their friends, when Keith heard a knock at the door. He sighed, but went to get it since everyone else was already seated. Upon opening the door, however, he was greeted with quite the surprise.

   “Mullet boy!” A boy at the door exclaimed, throwing his arms out wide. Keith stared, a montage of memories forgotten from that night playing behind his eyes. Coupled with the smell of dinner wafting comfortingly from the kitchen, Keith’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

   “You!” he shouted, tackling Lance to the ground in the hallway. There was a scraping of chairs on the floor, as his friends rose to see the source of the commotion. They found Keith sitting on top of a lanky, tan boy, who smiled and laughed.

   “Good to see you too,” he greeted. He waved at the crowd gathered in the doorway. “Hey! I’m Lance. I heard it was lasagna night.” Keith grabbed Lance by the lapels of his shirt, bringing their faces close together.

   “You stole my leftovers.” Lance smiled a little sheepishly, to his credit.

   “Yeah, guilty as charged. It was delicious, and you arrived in time to very angrily eat the last few bites, so I am not a complete monster. Besides, afterwards I drove you home and got you in bed, even though you were really against the whole concept of a piggyback ride. So there. Anyways, can I come in?” Keith stared down at him distrustfully, noting the fine details of Lance’s toothy grin. It didn’t come as a complete surprise, but they’d talk about that later. He reluctantly climbed off of him, offering a hand.

   “Come on, thief.” Lance laughed, and walked inside while waving to Keith’s friends with his free hand.

   “Thanks, mullet.” 

         In the end Keith may have been down some lasagna, but who ever said Halloween or vampires ran smoothly?

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Spidey-Sense

Anon Request: I have an idea for a one shot but I'm not sure if it won't be a bit triggering?? I thought of a prompt where Peter's girlfriend is being sexually objectified at school a lot but she's hiding it from him, until one night when someone rapes her on her way home or something. Once P finds out, he can't help his anger and he tells Karen to activate the killer mode, but she blocks it since she knows it's his anger coming through and he's not quite himself??

WARNINGS: sexual objectification, abusive relationship (physically and emotionally, rape, language

Tags: @bubblyanarocks3, @broken-pieces, @yessy2012, @panic-to-thepilots

High school was shitty and no one knew that better than (Y/N): a quiet and relatively unknown sophomore who desperately wanted to stay under the radar. Her freshman years served as a baseline and in her mind, things could only get better--there wasn’t any lower level she could fall to, especially not after the shit-storm she had already lived through.

Young, eager, and maybe a little too naive, (Y/N) entered into one of the single greatest decisions of her life, which she would come to see as the worst decision she’d ever made. Entering high school she and three of her closest friends decided to try and branch out--join new clubs, talk to new people, get involved in new activities, etc. (Y/N) was tired of being pushed around and told she wasn’t important. More than anything, she long to feel desired. At home and at school she felt like an outcast, s when someone began to take an interest in her, though hesitant, she quickly accepted the attention.

Cue Eric: a kind looking junior with seemingly good intentions who had begun to weave his way into (Y/N)’s heart. She was by no means in love, but she basked in the affection he put upon her. Despite the tentative warning from her friend Peter as he claimed he didn’t want to see her hurt, she pursued the faux attention Eric had lured her with.

For a while, Eric and (Y/N)’s relationship worked well. They were good for one another. Things seemed to be perfect. They were in their own world and were happy being isolated in the confines of their relationship’s newness, but after month three, things began to change. At firs tit was little things like Eric telling he she shouldn’t wear makeup anymore or saying (Y/N)’s wardrobe needed an upgrade--he never specified why, but when he gave her this information, she was wearing a form fitting shirt and he pinched disapprovingly at her love handles despite having them covered by the waistband of her jeans.

Slowly, his controlling nature progressed from trying to dictate her physical appearance to turning possessive. (Y/N) was pulled away from her friends, wasn’t allowed to talk to Ned and could only speak with Michelle on school related matters. Eric’s grip on (Y/N)’s waist became increasingly tight as he ushered her through the hallways, so tight to the point that he left small, fingertip shaped bruises on her skin from time to time. 

Ashamed and afraid, (Y/N) slowly stopped talking to Peter. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right in his warning, but mostly, she didn’t want him to become the target of Eric’s anger and irrationality. Eventually, the long nights Eric and (Y/N) spent on the phone with one another turned from sweet calls of getting to know one another to a ritualistic condemnation of everything (Y/N) had done wrong in their relationship, and whenever she tried to break up, Eric only stated that it wasn’t her place to make that decision.

At one point, (Y/N) didn’t think things could get any worse...she was quickly mistaken. When Eric’s fiends discovered he had been lying to them about his sexual relationship with (Y/N), he pressured her relentlessly, kept her from her friends even more, and completely isolated her.

“What’s the big deal?” he would always ask. “It’s not some magical thing; it’s physical. Nothing more.”

“I just don’t want to. Do I need a reason?” She would reply with a snarky tone of voice.

“This is probably the only time you’d be asked for sex and you’re still saying no,” he complained.

“Because you’re being a dick about it! If I’m going to have sex with someone, it’s going to mean something and not be ‘just physical,’” she’d snap while using air quotes.

“Are you not having sex with me because of that Peter kid? You have it bad for him, don’t you?” Eric would start. “He’s never going to like you! He’s not even your friend anymore, remember? I’m your boyfriend! If anyone is having sex with you, it’s going to be me.”

“This isn’t about him,” (Y/N) would protest. “We’ve only ever been friends.”

“That’s not true and you know it. You want to fuck him. You want to fuck him so badly you won't even have sex with your boyfriend.”

“What,” she’d sass, “are you going to break up with me if I refuse to have sex with you?”

“No,” Eric would reply with a small hint of what he hoped came across as sincerity.

“Then no.”

Despite her strong ability to protest and keep Eric off her back about adding sex to their relationship, he was persistent in getting what he wanted. After having convinced her to going to a party, he had further manipulated (Y/N) into playing a game of strip poker with his friends. She had protested to the point of tears, but Eric was stronger than her. He grabbed her by the sides and dug his fingers into her skin, while growling into her ear that there was nothing to be afraid of except him if she tried to walk away again.

To her dismay, once the group had been stripped down to their undergarments, the game changed. (Y/N) found herself shivering on the living room carpet of a stranger’s house as a bottle neck landed directly on her. Eric, who had spun the bottle, rose to his feet and paced to the closet door where he waited for her to join him. Shaking, (Y/N) made her way toward him and the two walked into the dark closet where she realized she wouldn’t be leaving a virgin regardless of how big of a fight she put up.

For two months after that night, her life was hell. Eric would put her down, belittle her, and make her feel even worse about her life than she already had. Anytime she brought up the courage to break up with him, he would blackmail her into staying with him by threatening to send the compromising nude photos he took of her before forced sex to everyone at school. It wasn’t until summer break that she was free from Eric’s torment. He was going on a tour of college campuses with some friends and didn’t want to be tied down with a girlfriend when he could be chasing college girls.

During that summer, (Y/N) had gone to the only person she still felt moderately normal around, her best friend since the first day of grade school and the only person she could be honest with: Peter Parker. She was still terrified to tell anyone what she’d been through, but she couldn’t open up to her parents; even if they were in town or bothered to come home, she had never had a close enough relationship with them to spill her guts about what had been happening to her for the past year. Additionally, Ned and Michelle were still peeved at her for ditching them and (Y/N) hadn’t really talked to either of them since month four of dating Eric. Peter was all she had left and even then she wasn’t sure if he would be able to listen without throwing it in her face.

She couldn’t get through her story without bawling and Peter, who had always been of a kind nature, looked like he could have killed someone. Every part of what (Y/N) told him set off a whole new level of hatred in Peter and made his blood boil, but what was worst--besides Eric abusing (Y/N) and forcing her into a sexual relationship she didn’t want--was the way he continued to lead (Y/N) to believe Peter would have said some of the horrible things Eric portrayed him as saying.

“You know none of that is true, right?” Peter asked (Y/N) one night long after their first conversation regarding her Freshman year of hell. (Y/N) was curled up in a pile of blankets on Peter’s bed while he tinkered on an old computer hard drive. 

“Part of it must be,” (Y/N) sighed. “I must be a huge idiot to have stayed with him for so long.”

“He hurt you when you tried to end things. He blackmailed you! He violated you and your privacy! You deserve better than some lowlife abusive prick!”

“I don’t deserve to be alive,” she muttered while a tear slid along her cheek.

“Don’t say that,” Peter begged her from across the room. He had begun blowing up the air mattress he had been sleeping on since he convinced Aunt May to let (Y/N) stay with them for the rest of the summer since her parents would be out of the country. “I can’t lose another person I love. I don’t want to add you to that list.”

“You can’t love me Peter; no one can. I was wasted on that asshole,” (Y/N) murmured as Peter spread the fitted sheet along the air mattress.

“That asshole didn’t know what he had,” Peter stated while shuffling toward the bed he had sacrificed for (Y/N) to sleep in. “You did’t deserve that, (Y/N). You deserve to be loved; you deserve to be shown that.”

“It’s sweet that you think that,” she started, “but who could stand to be with someone who would let such horrible things happen to themselves?” Peter crawled onto the bed and curled up beside (Y/N). He slipped his arm around her shoulder blades and she instinctively fell against him. His other arm enveloped her in a tight hug and he slowly pressed his lips against her head and took in the scent of her wet hair. “I do love you, (Y/N),” he whispered. “Please let me show you what you deserve--what you’re truly worth.”

It wasn’t long after that June night that Peter broke the news to Ned an Michelle about (Y/N)’s reason for ‘abandoning’ them the previous school year, and upon realizing the extent of what she had been through, the pair quickly welcomed (Y/N) back with open arms.

When school started again, Peter and (Y/N) had been officially dating for nearly three months, and neither could have ever been happier. There was only a small amount guilt on Peter’s end for not having told (Y/N) about being Spider-Man, but it all would come around in due time. Unfortunately, due time wasn’t exactly the way he had hoped it would happen.

The Stark Internship taken up a lot of Peter’s spare time, and once the harassing notes began appearing in (Y/N)’s locker, she had become jumpy again. Knowing Peter had been stressed about his position with Stark Industries, (Y/N) didn’t want to worry or burden him with what could have been nothing. Instead, she kept her head down and avoided crossing paths with Eric as best as she could.

It wasn’t until (Y/N) was walking away from the band hall late one Friday night after a football game that she realized the imminent danger waiting for her that the notes predated.

“So, quick question,” she heard the all to familiar arrogant voice echo down the empty hallway. “Who’s bigger: me or Parker?” (Y/N) chewed at the inside of her lip and quickened her pace. “C’mon, babe,” he insisted. “He’s smaller, isn’t he? You can be honest about it.”

“Leave me alone,” she stated as she emerged from the building and into the humid darkness of the night.

“You wanted him so bad when we were together; just tell me how he is in the sack...unless you don’t know yet.”

“Fuck off, Eric!” (Y/N) shouted as she made a beeline for the practice football field.

“Oh,” Eric sighed,” of course; stupid me. You haven’t even fucked Parker, have you? It’s not like he’s missing out on much, but hey, at least I was right in saying no one would ever offer to have sex with you.”

“Peter respects me enough not to strip me in front of a bunch of people and take my virginity in a fucking closet. He doesn’t walk all over me, doesn’t make me feel like shit, and--unlike you--he knows how to adequately treat a person rather than pressuring them into shit they’re not ready for! That being said, his cock is massive, especially compared to the thumb between your legs you’ve been trying to pass off as a dick!” (Y/N) had come undone and Eric was vengeful. He lunged forward and put his arms around (Y/N)’s neck. Tackling her to the ground, he pulled her under the bleachers and slapped her across the face.

“I thought I taught you what happened when you start being a bitch,” he growled while shoving his coat off and quickly pulling against the elastic waistband of the shorts (Y/N) wore under her marching band uniform. She writhed against him and screamed for help. “Keep your fucking mouth shut,” Eric stated while taking his hand to her face again. (Y/N) refused to be silences. She screamed and called out for anyone nearby, she fought her attacker as he sat on top of her, crushing her legs and pinning her against the hard, sharp pavement. Her shouts grew louder and her struggle more intense as she felt her shorts hanging around her knees. Eric didn’t even bother with removing her underwear. Rather, he pushed the material aside and thrust himself against her tight, unwelcoming opening, causing a wince and a yelp of pain to escape (Y/N)’s lips.

Each time her crying annoyed him, her screams got louder, or he feared someone would catch him, he’d slap or punch her across the face and jaw. Toward the end, he had gotten fed up with her continued struggle and ended up pulling her shirt over her face and using it as a gag to shut her up.

As (Y/N) writhed in pain and humiliation, hating herself for not being able to break free, she felt the immediate pain between her legs cease and a thick, hot liquid pool along her bare torso. Before she could pull the shirt away from her eyes or wipe her stomach clean, Eric was gone. Rising from the ground, she took off running. Her body was trembling in fear and she didn’t make it very far before the wobbling of her legs caused her to collapse onto the pavement. As she fell, a rock sliced against the palm of her hand and her wrist bent in the opposite direction as she tried to catch herself. After stumbling, she ended up rolling along the hard pavement before coming to a stop and staring at the emptiness around her. Terrified she would never be found, she started yelling again, begging for help and screaming until her voice failed. No one could hear her. 

Blood pooled from her hand and seeped around her fingers as she held her wounded hand while curled up in a ball on the ground, defeated with her voice growing hoarse and fading with each plea for safety.

Across town, Peter felt a sensation he hadn’t experienced before. He was in the process of taking off his Spider-Man suit as his duties for the night were over, when the hairs on his arms began to vibrate and stand on end. “What the hell?” he muttered to himself as he glanced at his arm. Slowly, the hairs began to point toward a specific direction. As his concern grew, he jumped back into the suit and swung toward his high school.

(Y/N) still laid on the ground outside the maintenance building along the practice football and soccer fields. The bleeding hadn’t ceased and she had gone into and come back from two consecutive panic attacks as she replayed the events in her head while simultaneously being paranoid about Eric coming back. She had just pulled herself down from the last panic attack when she saw the blue and red hero rushing toward her.

“Oh shit!” Peter yelled as soon as he recognized the girl’s beaten, bruised, and bloody face.

“Help me!” she cried as she saw Spider-Man getting closer and closer to her. “Please! I need help.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Peter called as he skidded closer to her and crouched down to her side. Instinctively, he tore the mask from his face and his dark eyes flashed down to his girlfriend. “I’m here, I’ve got you now.” Quickly, he scooped her into his arms and stared down at the girl he loved. “No, no, no,” he repeated as he rocked her back and forth. “What happened to you? What did he do?”

“P-Peter?” (Y/N) managed to stutter through her strained vocal chords.

“Oh God,” he gasped while looking down at her. “You’re bleeding!”

“My h-hand,” she stammered while trying to point at her left palm.

“No, (Y/N), you’re....you’re bleeding,” he said while glancing down at the small bloodstain forming along her light grey shorts. Embarrassed, (Y/N) tried to shift her body to keep Peter from staring. “Did...” he didn’t need to finish his sentence before knowing the truth. (Y/N) had broken into tears and curled into Peter’s arms while weakly nodding her head ‘yes.’

“I’m sorry,” she cried against him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t--”

“I know,” he sighed against her hair as he rocked her gently, hoping to calm her and himself down. “Shh, it’s not your fault,” he said while stroking her arms and wrapping her in a protective grasp. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

“D-do you hate me?” she stammered as shock began to set in.

“No of course not,” he stated. “Don’t ever think that! I love you. I’ll always love you.” As he traced small circles on the side of (Y/N)’s arms, he stood up and lifted her with him as Karen, the AI in his suit, directed him to the quickest route to the nearest hospital. Peter pulled his mask back on, kicked up from the ground, and began to swing through the rooftops. “You’ll be okay here,” he said through the mask.

“W-wait!” she yelled after him while trying to run after him only to be whisked away by emergency medical personnel. Her voice was drained out by the vengeance ringing through his ears and the anger sweltering in his heart.

“Karen,” Peter stated as he hurried from the hospital and landing on top of the building adjacent to it.

“Yes Peter?” the AI responded.

“Activate Instant Kill Mode.”

“Are you sure? You told me to forget that mode ever existed,” the computer protested.

“ACTIVATE IT!” Peter demanded--his voice harsh, distant, and all too emotional.

“There’s no coming back from that,” Karen stated as she read Peter’s vital signs. “Think of (Y/N).”

“I’m doing this for (Y/N),” he protested while slamming his fists on the concrete wall beside him.

“But would she want you to turn into something you’re not? Don’t let a decision you made in anger scar you like this. You told me yourself you’re not a killer, Peter. Don’t do this, for (Y/N)’s sake.

“He doesn’t deserve to get away with this!” Peter shouted. “He shouldn’t get to live when what he’s done to her makes her want to die! I’m not going to let him get away with this.”

“And neither will I; we just should do it the right way. He won’t get away with all he’s done to her, but right now she needs you...Peter, not Spider-Man. Go back to her,” Karen prompted before shutting off the computerized systems of Peter’s suit. After tearing off his mask, the tears that threatened to spill earlier now had a place to fall. Hurriedly, he slipped out of the Spider-Man suit and into the spare t-shirt and band shorts he’d found in (Y/N)’s backpack. He hurried back to his girlfriend’s side, planted a kiss on her hear, grasped her hand as she slept, and vowed to be there when she wakes up.

[frostywindmademoan]

A Worthy Adversary

Pt. 7 in a multi chapter OC fic featuring Michael Gray

“She definitely got her licks in.” Arthur commented as he looked at all the hair and tooth. “Look at this, found a ring in the hallway. You’ll never guess what the insignia is.” Tommy held up a golden band. “Who’s is it?” John asked. “Somebody from the Cohen Clan.” Tommy tossed the ring to Michael who caught it and examined the Cohen family chest engraved on it. “Cohen? Like James Cohen, the bloke we offed?” Arthur pieced together.  “Fucking hell. The first bloke she helped us kill.” John realized.

“How the hell did they figure out who she is?” Michael practically growled. “Don’t get mad at us, we only know as much as you do. Now we have to get up off our asses and track the Cohen fucks down.” Tommy stormed out of the house, followed by the rest of the family. In an abandoned warehouse next to a factory Clara came too. She had a chain cuffed to her wrists and the chain was hung on a large industrial hook meant for lifting heavy equipment. Her arms were above her head and just the very tips of her toes could brush the ground. Her shoulders were going to be sore for weeks at best, but most likely they’d be dislocated. Her head pounded and blood dripped down her cheek from the gash on her head that was a result of it being smashed against the mirror. The noise from the factory next door would mask any sounds she made. “Ah, Rosie, you’re back with us.” Clara recognized the man who started to walk towards her. His head was also bleeding from where Clara had ripped a large portion of his hair out. “Who’s Rosie?” She played dumb. “Shut up you little whore!” He slapped her across the face. “I’m Clara! My name is Clara! I’m Clara Brehmen!” She fiend complete innocence and played the part of scared and innocent victim. “Bullshit!” A blow landed on Clara’s cheek. “Please! I’m telling the truth! I don’t know what’s happening!” She summoned crocodile tears. Exterior pain didn’t faze her. Bones can always heal. Clara didn’t care how many blows it’d take, she just had to convince them that she was innocent enough to keep alive. “What’s happening is that we’ve finally caught up to you! You offed our boss, my big brother! He went missing after going home with you.” The man spit at her. “I don’t know who your boss is! I’ve never hurt anyone! Please, I’m just Clara, I’m a nurse!” She pleaded. “You’re lying! Do you know how I know? We’ve been watching you! You’re Michael Gray’s bitch! One of my men recognized him from a scuffle gone south right before James disappeared. My little brother had his throat slit by that monster of yours! He got his little Rosie to help him kill my other brother!” The man punched her in the gut, causing her to wheeze and gasp for breath. “Please, I’m not Rosie! I’ve never killed anyone!” Clara gasped.”Stop lying to me! Now you’re gonna fucking tell me where James’ body is and where I can get my hands on Thomas Shelby!” He screamed at her. “Shelby? The Peaky Blinders boss? This has to do with them?” She acted confused. “So you know them then?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Everyone in Birmingham does. They scare everyone. Nobody goes near them. I’ve never even talked to Tommy myself, I’ve always been told not to.” Clara half lied. It was true that people had told her to not get involved with the Shelbys, but she had obviously ignored the warnings. “Bullshit! You’re in bed with Michael Gray!” Another punch landed on her cheek. Clara didn’t appreciate the probable fracture in her zygomatic bone. “You’re going to give up Thomas Shelby right now, or I’m going to make you tell me!” He bellowed. “I don’t know anything to tell! I don’t know where he is!” She persisted. “Nicky, the blade.” The man held out his hand as a henchmen placed a glistening blade in it. “Give me Thomas Shelby.” He placed the knife under her chin. “I don’t know!” Clara continued to force tears. The man flicked the blade and cut a straight line across the bottom of her chin, causing blood the drip down her neck. She thought of Michael and hated how much he was going to loose it when he realized what was happening. “Are you going to cooperate now?” The man asked. “I told you! I don’t know anything!” Clara insisted. The man looked Clara up and down and had no shame in letting his eyes linger. “I see why Gray is so fond of fucking you. What’s his favorite bit? The tits? The ass? I personally enjoy a nice chest myself. Your tits are some of the best I’ve seen. I’m sure Gray would hate it if anything happened to them.” He gave a sadistic grin. Clara remained silent. He didn’t deserve a response. “Have it your way then.” His grin grew even more sickening. He raised the knife to her chest and sliced two 5 inch curves at the top of her breasts, tracing her cleavage. She thought to herself that this was going to leave an interesting scar. “Now talk!” He yelled at her. “I’ve already told you! I don’t know anymore about the Shelbys than anyone in Birmingham! All I know is they have a shop. I’ve never been in myself but a lot of the factory lads go. I think it’s just a few blocks over. They have a pub too. Everyone at the factory drinks there. I hear they hang around there a lot. That’s all I know!” She divulged very vague information. Clara hoped this would be enough for them to bite on and that they would go out to sweep the streets for the shop and pub. She quite liked her breast and would prefer the damage done to them to be minimal. “If you’re lying, you’re dead.” He warned before rounding up his henchmen to go split up and search the streets. “Alright Peaky boys, the ball’s in your court now.” She sighed, hoping that having the group split up would give the Peaky Blinders an advantage once an attack began.

“We don’t even know where to begin!” Michael exclaimed. “We know they’re based out of Liverpool.” John tried to help. “They can’t take her that far. They must have some place closer.” Michael reasoned. “I agree. Where do we know of a place you can move a girl to unnoticed?” Tommy tried to get their juices flowing. “Plenty of abandoned buildings around Small Heath. Lots of big warehouses around the factory. They could've taken her to the edge of town, away from people.” Finn offered suggestions. “Warehouses will be easily checked first, then houses. Lets split in to 2 groups and start looking. If need be we’ll all get back together to go search out of town. That’ll be a lot of area to cover.” Tommy began to formulate a plan. “I’ll take warehouses.” Michael stated. “Take John and Finn with you. Arthur and I’ll cover the houses.” The group all scattered and started to head to their respective locations. They didn’t get very far before shots started to ring out in the street. The henchmen, Nicky, had found them. The wild west seemed to come to Small Heath. A full on shoot out ensued. The other Cohen crew members converged on the scene to back Nicky up. Michael was overcome with rage. As others took cover and shot around the corners of alleys as a way to somewhat shielding themselves, Michael walked right down the middle of the street with his gun held out before him. “Get the fuck down Michael!” Tommy shouted. Michael ignored him and just kept walking. It seemed that by the grace of God Michael had some protective barrier around him. It was as if his drive to get to Clara made him invincible. Bullet’s whizzed past, close enough that he could hear them cut through the air, but none hit their mark. Michael, however, hit all of his marks. In his intensely focused and fearless state, he easily shot the Cohens. In his murderous stupor he gave the Peaky Blinders a clear advantage. They had clearly won the wild west shoot out. The only Cohen left standing was the middle brother. “Well, well, well. Richard Cohen.” Tommy walked up to the brother with his gun pointed right at his temple. “Where the fuck is Clara?!” Michael grabbed Richard by the collar and pushed him up against the nearest wall. “So the little bitch’s name really is Clara.” He chuckled. Michael slammed his head against the wall, causing fresh blood to spill onto his cheek. “WHERE IS SHE?!” Michael screamed. “A warehouse, by the factory.” Richard was dizzy and light headed and didn’t have the where with all to lie. “Take us.” Tommy pressed the gun to Richard’s head, prompting him to  lead the way. Richard stumbled his way back to the warehouse where Michael frantically slid the door open. “Shit.” Michael gasped when he saw Clara hanging there. “Clara!” He rushed over to her and was consumed with panic as he tried to see if she was alive. He lifted her head and to his overwhelming relief she smiled at him. “Hello Michael.” Her voice was weak, but she was clearly still the same tough as nails little girl. “Oh my God Clara.” He gave a thankful sigh of relief. “Wanna give me a hand?” She looked up at her hanging arms. “Shit, yeah.” Michael gently lifted her up enough to slip the chain off of the hook. Clara groaned as her stiff muscles fell back to her side. The other Shelbys made it to her side and began to fret over her. “Are you alright love?” John gently inspected the gash on her head. “Jesus Christ your chin!” Finn exclaimed. “This is too much blood. We have to get you out of here.” Tommy put a helping arm around her shoulder. “What about my mate over there?” Clara nodded towards Richard, who was sitting on the ground with his head in his hands. “He’s mine.” Michael growled as he set off towards him. “Do you want to know the last words your brother heard before I slit his throat? Just before his skin ripped under my hand I said, ‘You never get to touch my girl again.’” Michael didn’t bother with aiming for the vertebrae. He wanted to feel the blood on him, to feel the skin slice beneath his knife. Michael relished seeing the light leave Richard’s eyes.  “C’mon mate she needs a proper hospital. We can’t patch her up. We’ll pay whoever we need to as much as we need to in order to keep this quiet.” Tommy promised him. “You can’t show up at the hospital in all that blood though mate. We can’t keep that quiet.” Finn put a hand on Michael’s shoulder when he began to lead the way out the door. “I’m not fucking leaving her!” Michael shouted. “He’s right Michael. You’ll be in deep shit showing up there like that.” Clara agreed. Something in her voice convinced him. “Alright, get her there quick.”

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